“The vaccine…” She gulped not once, but twice. “I think they already have one.”
Devlin rolled his eyes. “Okay, now I’m ready to check her credentials.”
But, yet again, Jennifer rose to the rescue by providing visual aids. This new map showed the original spread of the plague, but it centered on areas untouched by the incredibly high death count.
“It has long been a subject of debate on how these isolated population pockets survived the plague, virtually unscathed.”
MacVetti’s cheeks billowed. He was beyond pissed. “Not so much debate as a conclusion that they carried a gene that conferred natural resistance.”
Jennifer didn’t need prompting. Her assistant was already bringing up a second map that showed a slightly different spread of the plague. The isolated pockets weren’t as crisp, and there, many more small enclaves of survivors.
Amanda used a laser pointer to highlight the new clusters of survivors. “These other pockets are areas of residence of direct, full-blooded relatives of those who survived.” Devlin tried to interrupt, but she talked right over him. “Which was determined through tracking of church records, inheritance documents, and lordship titles.”
She nodded to her assistant, who brought up a wholly different map. This one showed a schematic of an area in Southeast Asia. Quickly, an unidentified disease coursed over the continent, leaving behind small pockets of survivors, much like the plague map.
“Out of all the documented epidemics, this cholera outbreak is the only one whose pattern is at all similar to the Black Plague ‘islands’ of survival.”
MacVetti sighed. “Like I said, genetic resistance.”
Amanda shook her head with authority. “This isn’t the fourteenth-century outbreak of influenza. It’s the 1970 pandemic.” She zoomed in on the pockets of survival. “These ‘islands’ represent areas with heavy Western influences—and medical workers who were vaccinated.”
Now MacVetti’s bluster wasn’t anger. It was confusion. “But for the plague… There’s no way…Vaccination theory didn’t even come into play for another… Another…”
“Four hundred years,” Henderson finished for him.
Shrugging, Amanda switched to the plague map. “Nevertheless, my theory is that a terrorist organization that far predates the Islamic extremists has vaccinated carriers spreading the disease across the world.”
The entire room quieted as a new map showed the potential spread of the disease with the planet’s current population. Soon, the screen just glowed a bright red.
* * *
Lino pretended to stumble and right himself on the overhead compartment. The pilot had turned off the “Fasten Seat Belt” sign, and Lino had taken the opportunity to make sure that his mission was successful. Certainly, seeding the railing and passengers behind him in line had gone according to plan, but he had not gotten this assignment at such a young and tender age because he only did an adequate job.
His superiors knew that he would go to any lengths to see that this disease spread among the heathens. The unworthy. So he dragged his slightly moist hand along the overhead compartment. Anyone he missed earlier would certainly need to touch the lever to get his or her bags out at the end of the flight. The people would unwittingly contaminate themselves.
That was the simple beauty of their plan. The unenlightened masses were such sheep. They grazed the same pasture. They followed along in a single line. They could so easily be led to the slaughterhouse.
Finally, the earth would be cleansed of the undeserving.
Lino finished his journey to the forward bathroom and entered, being particularly careful to lock the door. No one needed to see what he did next. With skill approaching art, Lino meticulously took a hidden blade from his metal belt buckle and carved into his skin his most recent success. He let the blood drain into the sink, as he made absolutely certain the symbols were perfect in all ways.
That was the way of the Hidden Hand, after all.
CHAPTER 6
Special Agent Zachary Hunt’s Home
10:32 p.m., MST
Zach pulled into his driveway, still talking on his cell. He might have left work physically, but mentally? Mentally, he was still all over the case.
“That’s what you said last time, Warp.”
“But we’re super-sure that we can locate her the next time she calls.”
Entering the house, Zach turned on the hallway light and started sorting the mail. “We’ll see.”
“You’ll see! We’ve got taps on your home phone, your cell, and all three phones at the Starbucks…”
While Warp rambled on, Zach carefully removed any item of mail with Julia Levie’s name on it and set it inside a box. A box filled with the remains of their relationship. A rose lamp and some designer plates. Oh, sorry, flatware. Did he feel a twinge of sadness as he surveyed the small box that contained the fragments of an old life?
Nah.
“All the lines at your gym,” Warp babbled on. “The grocery store near work and …”
Only half listening to Warp’s mind-numbingly thorough list of possible contact points, Zach climbed down the stairs to the basement. After a night like tonight, he definitely needed to hit the stationary bike. Quickly, he pulled off his work clothes and changed into shorts and running shoes as Warp tried to break the record for the longest sentence uttered without taking a breath.
“Oh, oh, and the Blockbuster around the corner. Even that little video store where you get—”
“I got it,” Zach interrupted. Where did Warp find all his information? “You’ve got all the bases covered.”
Warp sounded ever so confident. “She can’t get in contact with you without us knowing about it.”
Zach climbed onto his exercise bike. “Good to know.”
Before Warp could launch into another diatribe about the reams of code he had written to track her down, Zach turned off his cell phone. Not just hung up the call, but physically turned off the phone. He didn’t want to think about work anymore. He was home, and months ago, he had taken a vow to lead a more balanced life, which meant leaving work at work—at least while he was down here.
As he warmed up his legs in first gear, Zach put in his iPod earbuds. Van Halen cued up. Perfect.
“Hey, sexy,” a voice purred in his earbuds.
“Hey there, yourself,” Zach responded.
* * *
Sinking lower in the bubbles, Ronnie leaned against the porcelain tub. Clandestine phone calls with Zach. So secret that not even Quirk knew about them.
“I was afraid you were going to miss our time window,” she said to cover her almost teenage awkwardness. They weren’t even in the same room, and still she felt so very flustered.
“Yeah, sorry I’m late,” Zach said. “I had a tough day at work. But you knew that already, didn’t you?”
She chuckled. “Tell me about it.”
“So what was with the hang-up? Got tired of waiting for me?”
Even though the iPod was voice only, Ronnie could almost see the corners of his eyes crinkle as he gave a sly grin. Or at least that’s what she imagined he was doing, and it worked for her. “Nah. Quirk caught me.”
The statement wasn’t exactly a lie. Quirk had hung up on her. It just wasn’t exactly the truth regarding the near-critical meltdown they’d had. Could he tell the difference yet?
“So, were we as close as Warp thought to shutting you down, or were you just throwing him a bone?”
Guess not. Which gave her leeway to embellish even more. “I’m generous that way.”
She took a tip of her merlot. Could the night end any more perfectly?
“You realize, of course, that you can’t run forever?” Zach asked.
Oh, how she wished she had a video feed. “It’s so cute, the way you try to talk me into turning myself in.”
“I’m serious,” he said, and he sounded it. “How can you live like this?”
“What?” I’m in a penthou
se suite.” Another embellishment. Who would pay bucko bucks for an overpriced room when you had a country of your very own to buy? Besides, this room wasn’t half bad. It was clean and had a standalone bathtub. What more could a girl on a budget ask for?
“Yeah, but you’re paying for it with someone else’s money,” Zach shot back.
“Hey!” That hurt. Who was he to get up into her grill like that? “I didn’t spend tens of millions of dollars to develop a point-to-point ultra-low frequency communications device that also serves as a bug detector and plays music, to have you proselytize.”
“Then maybe you should explain to me why you did spend the money.”
Hello? This was not how the fantasy was supposed to play out.
“You know, I’ve turned to the dark side. I’ve embraced the criminal life. I don’t need to explain why I’m flaunting regulations and protocol.” She was going to stop, but she was on a roll even Quirk would be proud of. “Maybe you should step up to the plate and say why you haven’t reported our communications to your superiors.” Coming down the mountain even more righteously, she asked, “Why have you continued to engage in illegal correspondence with a wanted felon? And don’t give me that bull answer about how you are trying to get me to see the evil of my ways.”
Ronnie wasn’t sure that she was really done, but she was definitely out of breath. That had been quite the rant. She even felt a little light-headed. What exactly could he say to all of that? What did she want him to say? She waited for his response, and then waited some more.
* * *
Zach’s legs quit pedaling. Damn, he wanted to be mad at her. He would have loved to just kick sand right back at the unrepentant felon, but Ronnie had a point. What in the hell was he doing? Did he really want her to come in from the cold? Wasn’t it pretty apparent after the first month of this off-the-books relationship that she would never give herself up? Then what was he doing, still talking to her? What had he gotten himself into? How could he respond to her questions when he couldn’t even answer them himself?
As the moments dragged on, the only thing filling this most uncomfortable silence was the music. Thank God it was still playing, or he might actually have to respond to her unanswerable questions.
“Please tell me that isn’t Van Halen playing,” she teased.
Zach couldn’t help but chuckle. Classic Ronnie. She could ride a five-minute anger tidal wave, then hop off and playfully splash you with water. He took the opposite approach. He liked to chew his cud. Hash something over and over again. That was something else she had taught him. Let it go.
“Van Halen?” Zach replied. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”
While she launched into another rant, Ronnie’s voice was more playful. “Okay, I spend hours downloading music and risk incarceration to bring you cutting-edge boot-legs, and you’re listening to Van Halen? Sammy Hagar’s Van Halen?”
“Yep, and proud of it,” he confirmed, grinning.
“I didn’t even load that song into memory, and I certainly didn’t put it into your playlists.”
Zach’s face relaxed into a true smile. This was why he was still talking to her, and he had to admit that it had nothing to do with convincing her to come clean. “I know you are the über-hacker, but I know my way around a mouse.”
“And you choose to display that talent by adding Hagar to the mix?”
He played right along. “Yep, and proud of it.”
The sound of her laughter filled his ears. Would it sound as sweet in person? “You really need to get out more. And, hey, are you still going to your cousin’s bachelor party in Ciudad Juarez?”
Another classic Ronnie move. Conversation jump. Sometimes he needed a diagram to remind him of the fifteen different threads they were following. He’d given up trying to keep their conversations linear. Where Ronnie led, you just followed. Even if you didn’t necessarily want to.
“Yep, and not proud of it.”
“I thought you didn’t want to schlep all the way across the border?” Ronnie asked.
Zach sighed. Not the subject that he wanted to spend their precious minutes on, but he knew that she was like a dog with a bone, so he answered, “I don’t, but I missed Skip’s last one, so—”
“Last one?” Ronnie interrupted. “He’s been married before?”
“Oh, he’s been married five times and has seven kids.” Then, pausing for the perfect comic moment—something else he had also learned from Ronnie—Zach finished with, “All with different mothers.”
“And you think our relationship dynamic is weird?” Ronnie joked.
“Maybe there’s hope for us yet,” Zach quickly added, regretted it, and then didn’t.
Had he really just spoken such a truth so casually? When he started to speak, the words had been a joke. A play on words. The sentiment was anything but a laughing matter. Was there any hope, any hope at all, for them? And why wasn’t she saying anything? Why was there silence again? God, was one of them going to have the guts to actually speak what had been unspoken for months? Did he have the guts to?
“You know, Ronnie,” Zach started awkwardly, “I was thinking…”
What was he thinking, though? He had decided to go to his cousin’s party for another reason. And it had nothing to do with familial obligation, but could he bring himself to tell her?
He started again. “Maybe. Maybe we…Or you could…” Oh, Jesus, this wasn’t going well. Another do-over. Stick to the facts, and maybe, just maybe he could get a sentence out. “You know, the bachelor party is outside the U.S., and I was thinking that maybe we could—”
“Zach, who are you talking to?” A voice came from across the room.
No, it couldn’t be. It was Julia. In the room. With Ronnie on the line.
Oh crap, crap, crap!
As his former fiancée walked toward him, Zach fumbled with the iPod, disconnecting the line. Ronnie did not need to hear this.
* * *
What in the hell was going on? Zach might have thought he turned off the transceiver, but he was horribly mistaken. She could hear each and every painful word.
His words came through crystal clear. “Julia? What? How? Where?”
“I still have keys, Zachary.”
Shit. Julia sounded as freaking beautiful as her picture. His ex-fiancée had given up a modeling career to work with the homeless. Bitch.
“But why?” he asked.
“You made it pretty clear that you wanted me to come by tonight to pick up my mail?”
Damn! Why in the hell hadn’t she installed video surveillance in Zach’s basement? She needed to see his face. She needed to see his reaction. Really, she just needed to be there.
“And back to my question,” Julia said. “Who were you talking to? And when did you convert the basement into a gym? I’ve only been gone a few weeks.”
“A few weeks?” Ronnie squeaked. What the hell?
“Let’s not do this again, okay?” Zach mumbled.
“Who were you talking to, Zach? Or would you rather I tell Grant that you’ve been secluding yourself in the basement, talking to no one in particular?”
Ronnie could tell that hit a nerve with Zach. His words came out far tighter. “Julia, that threat is beneath you…Come on.”
Each of his ex-fiancée’s words were punctuated with determination. “Who were you talking to?”
Ronnie strained to hear. Was that silence, or was Zach whispering? Had they moved outside the iPod’s range?
Finally, a sigh. “Myself,” Zach said. “I was…Working on…”
How was he going to get out of this one? Zach couldn’t exactly tell the truth, here or ever, about them.
“I was working on…self-affirmations.”
“Self-affirmations?” Ronnie’s words echoed Julia’s.
“Self-affirmations?” Julia demanded.
“Yeah, the ones my therapist gave me.”
Even through the tinny connection, Ronnie could hear Julia’s anger.
&nb
sp; “Therapist? You, all-knowing, emotionally so well equipped that he refused for a year to go see someone even after I begged him, is now going to a therapist?”
Ronnie could hear that Zach’s back was up. “Yeah, the one you recommended. Dr. Webster.”
“Dr. Webster?” Julia sure could sound bitter when she wanted to. “Really? Zach, just admit you aren’t—”
“Hey, you can call his office and check. Tuesday afternoons, 3:00 p.m.”
Julia sounded as surprised as Ronnie by the news.
“You, you went into therapy?” All the bitterness left Julia’s voice. “You went for us?”
Leaning forward in the bath, Ronnie held her breath. What was his answer going to be? But instead of Zach’s voice, she was greeted by a harsh disconnect sound.
“No!” Ronnie yelled as she desperately tried to reestablish the signal. Well? Did you? Did you go into therapy for Julia?
But, no luck. The line was dead.
* * *
How much had Ronnie heard? Zach’s mind desperately tried to backtrack the last few minutes’ exchange. His heart sank. What must she be thinking?
“Well?” Julia asked. A mixture of fear, tenderness, and hope on her face. “Did you do it for us?”
Grinding his teeth, Zach realized that he owed his ex-fiancée the truth. Well, at least as much of the truth that didn’t land him in a federal penitentiary. “No, I did it for me.”
But he still saw in her face a glimmer of hope. A hope that, if he looked hard enough inside himself, he had perhaps encouraged. Lord knew that they’d done this song and dance often enough in the early days of their breakup.
Zach leveled his gaze at her. She needed to know that he meant each and every word. She had to hear him this time.
“It’s over, Julia. I’m sorry, but you know it’s been over for a lot longer than a few weeks.”
Encrypted: An Action-Packed Techno-Thriller Page 7