Footsteps came from the hall, then a jingling of keys, and the door opened. A man entered and closed the door behind him. The kitchen light illuminated Jesse McNally, a full bearded man with brown shaggy hair. He was dressed in his work uniform.
“Hello, Jesse.”
Jesse let out a startled sound and stared at the silenced Beretta in the Farmer’s right hand.
“Relax,” the Farmer said. He motioned with the pistol. “Sit down.”
Shaking, Jesse followed his instructions.
“You’d think you’d be a little calmer, seeing as how you deal with the world’s most dangerous people every day.”
Jesse’s eyes darted in utter confusion at the items arranged neatly on the small, round kitchen table. First was a bunch of strips of plaster gauze, cut into different-sized pieces. Next was a jar of Vaseline, a bag of craft plaster, an electric hair clipper, different sized paint brushes, wood glue, superglue, a piece of sandpaper, a can of air duster, and a roll of duct tape.
“What are you going to do to me?”
The Farmer grabbed the roll of tape and said, “Country boy’s number one survival tool.”
With his gun tucked in his blue jeans, the Farmer stood behind Jesse and ran a loop of tape across his chest and around the back of the chair, completing the circle back at his chest. He ran the circle two times.
“I’m a good person. I don’t mistreat prisoners,” Jesse said in a panicked voice.
“How tall are you?”
“What?”
“About five ten?” The Farmer made an X with the tape at the location of the man’s heart. He then pulled out a map from his back pocket and unfolded it on the table. It was a diagram of the ADX Max Prison campus. “Tell me everything.” He pointed to the map.
“What…?”
“Tell me everything.”
Jesse shook his head slowly. “If it’s smuggling you’re looking at, I can tell you it’s impossible for guards to sneak drugs into ADX. They even have sniffer dogs outside the bathroom stalls!”
“I’m not interested in drugs. I want to know your entire routine, especially in the D-Unit.” The Farmer bent over, closing the distance. “Give me that, and I’ll leave you in peace.”
After about twenty minutes, Jesse had told the man everything about his routine, and had even confirmed Gracie Green’s cell block and the interval of the guards.
“Now for your payment,” the Farmer said, as he pulled out the note that Jaco had given him. It was the note Bic had left on the dead terrorist hanging from the ceiling fan at the farmhouse in South Dakota.
“Can you read this for me, Jesse?”
“Yeah, what does it mean?”
“What’s it say?”
Confused, terrified, he said, “It’s pork chop eatin’ time…” Jesse looked up from the note to see the silenced pistol staring at him.
32
The Farmer grabbed some paper towels and wiped his face clean of Jesse McNally’s blood, which had spattered from the wound directly in the center of the X on his chest. He then picked up a dry wash rag, tore it in half, and stuffed it down into Jesse’s mouth. With the head tilted back, he applied the superglue to Jesse’s teeth to bind his lower and upper jaw together permanently, then wrapped a swath of duct tape from below the lower jaw around to the top of the head and back again so it all could set.
He looked at his stash of materials and frowned. No hair dryer. Why was there always some mundane little detail to be dealt with? He went into the bathroom and rifled through the drawers until he found one.
Back in the kitchen, he taped Jesse’s head to the broomstick to hold it up. He removed Jesse’s eyebrows, beard and sideburns with the clippers, then applied a thin layer of Vaseline to the smooth face.
He stepped back to admire his work thus far. It was time for phase two.
He grabbed a mixing bowl from the kitchen cupboard and filled it with warm water. He picked up a piece of plaster gauze and dipped it into the water. After letting the excess water drip off, he applied the first strip of plaster to Jesse’s face, then re-wet his index finger and smoothed out the surface of the plaster gauze. He methodically repeated the process until he had covered Jesse’s entire face, then used the blow-dryer to speed up the drying time.
After the plaster mask had dried, he carefully peeled it off in one piece, then held the cast up to the kitchen light to make sure there were no holes. He smiled at his work. Satisfied, he put the mask nose-down into a small basket he’d stuffed with towels and cloth so it wouldn’t crack.
Phase three.
He used a paintbrush to put a coat of Vaseline to the inside of the mask. Next, he mixed a bag of powdered craft plaster with water, then poured the liquid plaster into the mask until the face was full. Carefully he tapped the edges of the mask to rid the thing of air bubbles.
He looked at his watch, then walked into Jesse McNally’s den and flicked on the TV.
There was a two-hour block of Judge Judy episodes on channel thirty-six. He grabbed a beer from Jesse’s fridge and made himself comfortable in front of the TV.
Two hours later, the fast-drying plaster had solidified. He removed the inner mask from the plaster cast by inching it off piece by piece. Once the mask was removed, he took the cast and put it next to Jesse’s face.
He smiled.
He picked up the clay-sculpting tool and fine-tuned some details around the eyes, nose and mouth. Next was a thorough—albeit delicate—buffing with a piece of sandpaper. He blew away the dust with a can of air duster, then painted wood glue onto the surface to seal it.
Phase four.
Still in the box was a quart bottle of Monster Mask Latex RD-07, the most important ingredient.
He tapped the layer of wood glue to test for dryness, then applied a very thin layer of Vaseline. Using a paintbrush, he applied the latex over the cast in perfect proportions.
When he was done, he looked at the mask, then at the corpse of Jesse McNally.
“You’ll be doing the unthinkable tomorrow, my friend,” he said, then pulled a couple dark colored strands of braided hair from his box to see which one color matched the best to Jesse’s beard shavings on the floor.
33
Mack knelt next to Caroline’s bed, holding her left hand in both of his. She hadn’t regained consciousness since he’d gotten back. He knew he had promised Caroline he’d stay safe for Sam, but it was clear now that if he did what he wanted to do—needed to do—they could both end up dead by the end of the week, leaving Sam an orphan. He looked at the clock. It was midnight. He shook his head.
Mack leaned in, tears in his eyes. “You’ll never guess what I got myself into,” he whispered, holding her hand tight.
There was a sudden noise as the blood pressure cuff automatically tightened around Caroline’s arm. Mack looked up at her vitals on the monitor. They were still strong, but this was also a reminder she was near the end.
“I can’t go through this life without you,” he said, then looked over at the two empty pill bottles he had taken from Diana’s, which he had placed on her nightstand. “I know there’s a cure now, but I… I really messed up, baby. You know what really sucks? If it was you visiting Diana instead of me? You would have gotten them right off. I just know you would have found a way.” He fought back a break in his voice. “I need my partner back.”
Mack closed his eyes in frustration. “I screwed the pooch another way, baby. I let her get killed. I know, I shouldn’t do that to myself. In reality, if she would’ve just told me what was happening, if she’d just come with me, she would still be alive. But I did find this…” He pulled the safe deposit key from his pocket. “I found this in her luggage. What do you think? My gut tells me it’s something important.”
He gently ran his finger across her forehead and pushed her hair back. “Tell me what to do, Caroline. You know, the doctor said you probably won’t regain consciousness, but he doesn’t know how s
trong you are. Wake up… so you can tell me to get my head out of my ass…” His voice broke off.
He stayed by her side for the next couple of hours. He was just about to doze off, his chin about to hit his head, when something made him look up.
It couldn’t be.
Her eyes were slits, and she was smiling.
“Hey,” he said, taking her hand.
“Hey,” she rasped weakly.
“How’s it going?” His own voice was barely more than a whisper.
“Mack, remember our wedding night?”
“Of course.”
“I never told you this, but that night, I knew we were creating a baby, I don’t know how I knew it, I just did.”
He smiled through his tears. “That was the most amazing night of my life.”
“Mine too.” She tried to laugh. “Actually, I think I got pregnant the month before.”
“Yeah, the math didn’t add up, but I wasn’t gonna argue with you.”
“Alright, I just wanted you to know I’ll be here waiting for you.”
“I love you.”
She smiled as she closed her eyes.
Twenty minutes later, Mack was startled by his phone. It was Tom Walton from Langley. Mack stepped out of the room to answer it.
“Find anything?”
“Couple of things,” said Tom. “Diana Graham was flying to Chicago, then the next day to Houston. There’s a Dr. Klein at M.D. Anderson hospital. I had a look at his calendar. She had an appointment with him at 2 PM. But Mack, Dr. Klein was killed in a hit and run accident yesterday.”
“Jeez, that’s convenient. Any idea why she was going to Chicago?”
“Not yet.”
“Did she make any calls to Chicago?” Mack asked.
“Pulling up her records now. Yes, here’s one, it’s the number to the First National Bank of Chicago.”
“Hmm, ok—wait a minute…” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the key. “Hey, quick question, does she have a safe deposit box there?”
“It’ll take a second to get into the bank’s records,” Tom said as Mack heard the pounding of the keyboard through the phone. “Nope. Nothing.”
“Crap.”
“Hang on. Looks like her daughter does.”
“Anna?”
“Yes sir. Box 1026.”
Mack smiled as he verified the number on the key. “Nice work, Tom. I think I already have the key.”
“It’s a two-key box, so you’ll need a second key to get in.”
Mack’s shoulders slumped. “If Anna had her key on her in the explosion, there’s no way I’m going to find it.”
“Well, if Diana was going there, she must have had it or at least knew where to find it.”
“Good point. Thanks, Tom, I owe you big time.”
“That’s an understatement,” the other man said cheerfully.
Mack hung up the phone, then crawled into the hospital bed with Caroline.
“Taking a little trip tomorrow, baby,” he whispered, and kissed her head. “Wanna come with?”
His mind wouldn’t allow him any thoughts of finality. He slept next to his wife.
34
“Unacceptable,” Peter Rains growled as Jaco entered the private room at a Chinese restaurant in the RiNo district in Denver. The hipster wave of new residents avoided the old business like this one in favor of artisanal, locally sourced, hand crafted vegan restaurants, and the two men had the place to themselves. The staff were used to giving their patronage a lot of privacy, and getting overly large tips in return.
“Nice to see you too, Peter.”
“Cut the crap, Jaco. First you blow up half of Chicago, then you turn Iowa into a war zone!” Rains slammed his fist on the table. “I’ve got 12 men buried in a cornfield in pieces! The only person you’ve managed not to kill is the one person you were supposed to!”
“You should have seen that hillbilly,” Jaco said with a chuckle. “He killed five of your guys with a farm tractor.”
Rains glared at him. “You’re kidding me.”
He glared back, “It’s not good manners to change the terms of a contract.”
“I can’t believe it,” said Rains, shaking his head at the table. “You sent those men after the Farmer to be killed so you didn’t have to pay them, you sick, greedy devil?”
“Says the guy who’s going to wipe the cure for cancer off the face of the earth. What’s the old saying? Kill one man and you are a murderer. Kill millions and you’re a conqueror. Just who are you conquering Rains? The feeble?”
Rains looked up, hatred in his eyes. “Listen here, you didn’t deliver, you’re not getting a red cent until the job is done.”
“The million I asked for was for expenses.”
“No money until the job is done, and it better be quick, I’m hearing from the intelligence community that China’s caught wind of this. The only thing worse than her company finding a cure would be if the—” He looked around, then lowered his voice. “—if the Chinese get a hold of it.”
“I’m going to need a chopper with a .50-cal.”
Rains ground his teeth as he stared into Jaco’s eyes. “What in the world do you need a chopper for?”
Jaco leaned forward. “The Farmer is going to break her out to the perimeter. Once he gets into the open with her, a chopper with a gunner will swoop in and grab them. Then the Farmer and the pilot will parachute out of the bloody thing just before it crashes into the side of a mountain.” He brushed his hands together. “Oh, I’ll need two parachutes too.”
Rains stared at Jaco for a moment, then huffed and pulled out his phone.
The server came over.
“I hear you make a mean Mai-Tai,” said Jaco.
“Best in Denver,” she said with a smile.
“Uh huh. In that case, make it a vodka tonic. No lime.”
Rains hung up his call and waited for the server to depart. “The chopper’s on its way. Don’t mess this up.”
Jaco stood to leave. “Ok, I got work to do. Cancel my drink. Or have it yourself. I don’t care. Oh, and I’m just warning you, within an hour after that chopper crashes, those fat, greasy asses you work for better send me the rest of my money or they’re going to have a big problem.”
Rains rolled his eyes. “Just kill her before she gets hold of someone she can get on her side.”
Jaco cracked his neck to the right. “She’ll be gone by the end of today— just make sure my money’s there.”
“Have you ever not gotten paid?” Rains called after him.
Jaco turned and thought for a moment. “No,” he said finally. “Let’s keep it that way.”
35
Gracie lay asleep in her cell, until a man entered her room and hovered over her for a moment. Feeling his presence, Gracie opened her eyes.
“What are you doing here?” she said.
Agent Quinn motioned for her to be quiet as he knelt by her side. “Do you trust me?”
Gracie lost herself in his eyes. It felt right. She wrapped her hand around the back of his neck. He didn’t resist, and she pulled him down to her.
Their lips locked together perfectly, as his warm hands pulled up her shirt…
The outer prison door loudly clicked open, waking her from the dream. She sat up, completely mortified when she saw Agent Quinn walk in. She couldn’t even look him in the eyes.
Quinn picked up on it. “Everything okay?”
“Did you get my thumb drives?” she said blearily.
Quinn shook his head. “Chicago was a bust.”
“What do you mean?”
“The drives were gone. Someone else found them first. We did find some traces of tape residue and damaged paint where you said they’d be.”
She stared at him in disbelief. “Gone?”
“Is there anywhere else you might have kept any proof of your work?”
Deflated, Gracie said, “N
o. I don’t think so.” For the first time she started to feel like this was real, and there was no going back. No way out.
“Gracie, I need you to think.” Quinn hesitated, but then said, “A lot’s at stake here.”
“You think I don’t know that?” she responded, a bit too loudly. She passed her hands over her face and said, “Maybe one of my employees kept something. They weren’t supposed to, but maybe.”
“Who would be the most likely?” Quinn asked.
“Steve and Alice were rule-followers—it would be highly unlikely that they went against my wishes. But Anna thought I was being too paranoid about not keeping our data backed up on the cloud.”
“So, ok, where do you think Anna would have kept it?”
“I don’t know. She was kind of a pack rat. Maybe in her apartment? I’m not sure.” Gracie looked down. “Her mother’s been in the final stages of colorectal cancer for months, holding on, waiting to be the first to be in the human trials when the FDA approved the drugs. By the time I get this all straightened out, if I ever do, she’ll probably be gone.”
“Did Anna have any siblings, or a boyfriend?”
“She had one sister and they didn’t get along at all. She never dated—she was too busy with her work.”
“I’m going back to Chicago, Gracie. Make sure not to trust anyone until I can make sense of what’s happening here.”
Gracie nodded. Even though so much was at stake, she couldn’t help but remember her dream. For all she knew, this would be the last time she would see Quinn.
“Hang in there,” Quinn said, then stood.
As he walked toward the door of the cell, the guard opened the door to let him out.
“Thanks, guy,” Quinn said, then stopped to take a second look at one of them. “You okay, pal?”
“Got a bit of a cold,” the bearded guard replied, tilting his head down, shielding much of his face from Quinn’s view. “Don’t get too close.”
“Feel better,” Quinn looked at the man’s badge, “McNally.” He walked off without taking a second look.
The Cure Page 10