by Darrell Bain
“All right, set it up, but make it day after tomorrow. I’ll be tied up with the U.N. tomorrow. Which reminds me—I need to see Emilee Bailey beforehand. Get her over here first thing in the morning.”
Lurline made a note. “Yes, sir. How about the Arab ambassadors. Several of them are demanding to see you.”
“Stall them. The Arabs are no longer a problem, or won’t be shortly. Isn’t that right, General?”
“Yes, sir. Another couple of months and we can move in, assuming we can release some of our troops from street duty. It’s funny,” he mused. “Whatever bug the Jews used, it’s infecting Arab and non-Arab alike. Iran is suffering almost as much as Egypt and Syria, and the farther away from the Middle East, the fewer people are infected.”
“Good. The more of those goddamned fanatics that die, the better I like it. I’ll have some more morbidity figures from the CDC once it’s completely back in our hands, but I was told the last ones I saw aren’t likely to change much. Listen, let’s break this up for now. I’ve got to see the speech writers and get them going, then some of the governors. Damn it, there’s just not enough hours in the day to cover everything.”
“Perhaps Vice President Santes could assume some more duties, sir?” Lurline suggested hopefully.
Anything to bring more rationality into the government.
“I’ll manage,” Marshall said shortly. “Besides, she’s busy with the CDC negotiations right now.”
As if that’s taking up all her time, Lurline thought . He doesn’t want to share power. Except with General Newman, maybe.
* * *
“Damn it, there’s no help for it. I have to get back,” Doug insisted. He had regained consciousness upstairs and was forcefully resisting attempts to treat him. “Just bandage me up good, splint this arm and give me some crutches.” A hell of a negotiator I am, he thought. Damn it, I should have gotten Colonel Christian’s personal phone number. I bet he has his own phone with him. Qualluf probably wouldn’t have believed he was hurt until he saw the bullet holes though, so it probably didn’t matter.
There was a weary nurse standing by the gurney. “Mr. Craddock, you’re in no shape to go anywhere.
Your upper arm is broken and your leg has a bullet hole in it on top of your previous wound.”
“I’m sorry. I’m responsible for every one of our people being held captive. I don’t care how you do it, but get me over there. Send someone with me if you think I’m that bad. And give me a phone number where I can reach Amelia immediately.” He needed to talk to Amelia in more detail as soon as she was out of surgery and able to speak.
* * *
In the end, the medics just gave up. An air cast was put on Doug’s arm to immobilize it, a few stitches were taken to pull his wounds together temporarily and his leg bandaged tightly enough to prevent any more bleeding. All the while it was going on, Doug kept telling them to speed things up. When he left, riding a gurney, the nurse accompanied him. She was carrying pain medicine and another IV bag to use when the one dripping fluids into his good arm was exhausted. He was past his self-imposed time limit by the time the gurney was rolling along the walkway between buildings, but the blacks were becoming accustomed to the white flags by now.
Surprisingly, Fridge was outside to greet him as he returned.
“I heard you caught a ride back, Doug. What in hell you been doing, trying to feed yourself with your left hand again? You know you ain’t got that much coordination.” He eyed the nurse tagging along with him.
“How bad you hurt?”
“I’ll live, but we’ve got more problems than a broken arm or a shot up leg. Let’s go.”
“Yeah, the preacher’s getting impatient. Come on, we’ll go in through the lobby.”
Doug was searching the room the moment the big front doors opened. He didn’t have far to look. June had been alerted by Fridge and was waiting just inside the entrance.
“Doug! Oh, sweetheart, what happened? Are you hurt? Oh God, stupid question,” she added as she leaned her head near his and kissed him.
Doug raised up enough to meet her lips. “I’m fine. Or maybe not so fine, but I can’t take time off to be sick. I’m glad you’re not hurt. I was so worried that…” He saw the untreated wound at the neckline of an overlarge white tee shirt, apparently borrowed from a man. “What happened to you?”
“It’s all right, this man here saved me from anything bad.”
“June, baby, we’re going to have to talk later. I’ve got a situation waiting that may be the most important thing in the world right now. Fridge? Can she come?”
Fridge shook his head. “Not a good idea. Mrs. Craddock, I’m sorry, but you’ll have to wait here.”
“Fridge, thank you for taking care of her, but I think she could join us. She may know something that has a bearing on the information I’m going to give you.”
“How so?”
Doug hadn’t wanted to bring her into the danger of the negotiations, nor let Taylor know his wife was anywhere close, but this was bigger than both of them.
“June’s been acting as administrative assistant to the CDC Director. I’ll tell you more inside. It’s not good, but maybe we can make something out of it.”
“All right,” Fridge conceded. He was getting impatient with the preacher himself.
Fridge escorted Doug back to the same room he had left an eternity ago, it seemed like. June and the nurse, one on each side, accompanied him, with Fridge leading the way.
“Who these bitches?” Qualluf demanded as Fridge began moving chairs aside to make room for the medical cart.
“Good God, what happened to you?” Colonel Christian asked, fearful that the fragile truce had somehow been broken.
“I’ll get into it with all of you in minute.” He turned to his nurse. “Ma’am if you would, give me an injection of pain medicine, but only half a dose. Then you’ll have to leave us alone for a little while. You can wait out in the lobby.” Doug knew he had to have something to alleviate his pain, but wasn’t going to take enough to muddle his senses.
“Your pain medicine is in the I.V. All I can do is speed the drip up a little.” She adjusted the flow, then said,” I have to stay with you to monitor your vital signs,” Doug was insistent that she go, but she left only after he told her June was a nurse. What he had on his mind was too vital to get out in casual conversation. Not before he had a chance to use it. Once the nurse closed the door on them, he got down to business.
“Have you two made any progress while I was gone?” Doug looked at Christian, then Taylor. Taylor glowered and didn’t answer. The colonel shook his head. “Only so far as allowing me to send my aide back to tell my deputy that I’m in no danger here, and to respect the truce.”
Doug spotted a carafe that was an addition to the room. “Is that coffee?” he asked, pointing with his good arm. “If it is, I need some to help keep me awake long enough to get through what I need to tell you.”
June brought the coffee to Doug without asking permission. Qualluf stared balefully at her, but said nothing. Despite himself, he was curious over how Doug had gotten his wounds and what he was up to now.
June helped him to raise the upper portion of his body enough to gulp some of the hot coffee and make good eye contact with the others, then he began. “Mr. Taylor, I may owe you an apology,” he said, then waited on the reaction. It wasn’t exactly what he would have hoped for, but given the man’s fixation on mistreatment of blacks from the age of exploration until now, he wasn’t surprised.
“Huh! Every motherfucking white in America and Europe owe us an apology. Damn little good that do now.”
“I told you before, I’m not responsible for anyone else’s actions, only my own and the men I command. If it makes you feel any better, I’ve never agreed with the way blacks have been treated, but that’s neither here nor there. What I wanted to apologize for is that I found out I might have been wrong. There is a possibility you may have been right about the governme
nt being involved with instigating the Harcourt virus. Or some people in government, at least.”
“Doug, no!” June exclaimed. “Our government couldn’t have done this!”
Doug was watching Fridge’s reaction rather than Qualluf’s. He sensed that he was going to have to depend on his old friend to hold things together until he had a better grasp of exactly what had actually happened with Johannsen. And he needed the Colonel, too.
Qualluf stood up. “Just like I said. We can’t trust any of you sorry motherfuckers. That’s it, conference over.” He started toward the door.
“Fridge, stop him. There’s more!” Doug winced as he tried reflexively to reach his arm out to stop him—the wrong arm.
Fridge was nearer the door than Qualluf. He moved in front of it. “Preacher, let’s hear it all before we decide anything. Go ahead, Doug. I hope you got more than this, though.”
“I do.” Doug sipped more of the coffee. He could feel the effects of the pain killer lessening his hurt, but it was also making him groggy. “June, stop the pain medicine. I have to stay awake.”
Qualluf moved back to his chair, knowing he had reacted too quickly. What else did this man know?
How had he been hurt? How could he be used? Was there maybe a cure after all? Better to wait and see.
After Qualluf had reseated himself, Doug continued, encouraged by June’s hand slipping into his after he downed the last of the coffee. “Let me tell you what happened when I went back to talk to Amelia. She told me that some CIA agents had brought in that crazy scientist, Johannsen, who created the Harcourt virus. He arrived right before the airport was closed, so Amelia and her scientific staff haven’t finished questioning him about whether he knows how to stop the virus or not. About the time Amelia was giving me this information, she had to be taken to surgery to repair internal injuries as a result of the beating she got while here. If it hadn’t been for that I might have had more for you.”
Doug saw that Qualluf’s perpetual glare faded from his face for once, telling him plainer than words who had been responsible for Amelia’s torment. He thought the man might even have been in on it, but he didn’t want to know. It would only prejudice him in the hours to come.
“We want that man,” Qualluf said.
Doug had been hoping for that reaction. “I may give him to you, but not before we drag every bit of what he knows about the Harcourt virus out of him. He suggested there was evidence of his contacts in government in some papers he told me about. That was after I rescued him from what I think were government agents intent on silencing him. That’s how I got hurt.” He tapped the air cast on his arm to emphasize the point. “Now here’s what I want us to do.” He explained his ideas as clearly as he could.
He had been thinking furiously ever since learning of Johannsen’s presence and the possibility of government involvement.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
“So here’s how I see it,” Doug finished up. “I want some scientists and other experts to examine the documents that Johannsen told me where to find before we say anything. Colonel Christian and some of his men will go get them first and bring them back here in order to keep anyone else in the government from stopping publication if they prove to be true. Same for the possibilities of a vaccine or a cure. We want to get that out, too, but I see no sense in giving people false hope before we’re sure, and frankly, I don’t think the black and Hispanic communities would believe us without proof. And last, I want the people here released, with Mr. Taylor sending scientific representatives of his choice into the CDC to monitor the work there. Mr. Taylor, you can either go into the CDC or go with Colonel Christian to secure the documents or send your representatives to each place and stay here with your people; it’s your choice.” He looked at the others, trying to gauge everyone’s reactions, then added, “Whatever we do, we don’t want either the government or the military, other than the colonel here, to get wind of what we’re up to until we can publish our findings on the net in a believable manner. So far as I know, it’s only Edgar Tomin who’s involved in this mess, but there may be others. In fact, there’s almost certain to be others and we want to get them, too.”
Fridge blew out a breath of air. “Doug, you never did do things small. This is a lot to take in all at once.”
“I know. And it may not be all, yet. I forgot to tell you, that I left word for Amelia to call me as soon as she’s out of surgery and awake. There was something else she was trying to tell me before she passed out. She’ll probably be in surgery, then recovery for a few more hours. Johannsen is in surgery, too—and as much as I hate the man, I hope he survives long enough to question him some more.” He felt his eyelids dragging. “In the meantime, I’ve got to rest for a while if you want me to carry on.”
Fridge nodded. “He’s right, Preacher. If there’s a chance for our people, we got to go along with him.”
Qualluf looked as if he had a bad case of indigestion. “How do we know he’s telling the truth? Maybe he’s just trying to get those CDC people free.”
Incongruously, Fridge laughed out loud. Even Doug peered at him curiously, wondering what was funny.
“Preacher, do you really think Doug would have shot his arm practically off and put another bullet in his leg just to try fooling you? Or let you know his wife is here? Or that Johannsen is just one building over?
Uh uh. He’s telling the truth. We’re going to go along with him.”
“Since when did you take command?” Qualluf said.
“I didn’t. But I will if I have to.”
Doug noticed that both men had dropped almost all of the black vernacular.
Qualluf stared at his military commander and slowly nodded. “I’ll pick the best men available to go into the CDC along with the people we’ve been holding here. And I’ll send some more men with the colonel to be sure we see everything if he finds any papers in Charleston. Then as soon as I quiet the people on the lines down, I’ll be over at the CDC myself. I want to be present when Johannsen is questioned.”
“Done,” Doug agreed, then expounded on his last thought, which had depended on everything else to come off right before it would be possible. “And one last thing. After we all agree on where we go from here, I’m going to call the Vice President back, but I’m not going to tell her yet about the possibility of Tomlin’s involvement. I’m afraid it might leak. But once we know, I want to see if the three of us can get a joint national broadcast audience after we release the data to the net.”
“That might—hell, it probably will—get me a court martial,” Colonel Christian said, “but assuming all this stuff is true, I’ll do it. Goddamn, I should have gone into business with my Dad, like he wanted me to.
Not that business is going to be very good for a long time to come, but it would sure as hell be safer!”
Doug called Teresa and told her to allow the armed blacks to enter the CDC and accompany anyone they wanted to as part of the bargain he had struck. Then he made that call to Santes.
* * *
Vice President Santes was alarmed at first that it was Doug Craddock’s wife calling her, but only momentarily. June quickly explained part of what Doug had done and that the pain killing drugs had finally put him to sleep in the midst of dialing her number.
“So the hostages have been released and a truce is in place for the time being?”
“Yes, Mrs. Vice President, but there’s more he needs to do, and I think he’s the only one who can make everyone work together. But please, don’t let any of this get out yet. There’s other parts of the overall problem he hasn’t got settled yet, particularly what else Johannsen knows, and he still needs some time with Amel—the CDC Director when she gets out of surgery.” June still didn’t have any idea of what else Amelia might know. Whatever it was, if anything, she hadn’t told either her or Doug before the attack happened. Either she had reason to keep silent or events had overtaken her before she could speak and she had been scared to confide it to anyon
e while being held captive. And it might very well be nothing, as Doug had suggested. As if there wasn’t enough already.
“Alright. Give everyone there my thanks for working with me. I’ll tell the president the hostages have been released and we have a temporary truce but that we need more time to work out details.”
“Thank you ma’am. We should know more in another day or so. I’ll tell Doug to call you as soon as he’s awake again. But he has to go into surgery soon himself.”
“I see. That was a heroic thing he did, just to hear about it. Good bye now. Have someone call me back every six or eight hours to keep me informed.”
“Yes ma’am, I will.”
June thumbed the phone off, wondering at the way events shaped a person’s life. Just a few short weeks ago she never could have imagined that she would not only be married again, but that she and her husband would be talking to the Vice President of the United States over one of her private lines!
It was dark as the former hostages made their way back to the science building, accompanied by the men and women selected by Qualluf to go with them. June wanted nothing more than get under a shower and into clean clothes, but she forced herself to ignore her bodily needs for the time being. It had suddenly occurred to her that not only had she been talking to the Vice President, but that she and Doug were temporarily in charge of CDC operations. Or she and Teresa until Doug was back on his feet. It was a humbling thought, and a frightening one at the same time.
“We should dress his wounds,” Doug’s nurse said. “All the doctor did was put in a couple of quick stitches to hold the wounds closed and load him up on antibiotics and pain killer. He’s going to need surgery, too.”
How to tell a nurse that sometimes what seemed urgent to a medical person had to take a back seat to considerations much more important. June wanted to take care of Doug, but she knew he had to have some rest, too. She wondered… maybe his surgery could be done under a local anesthetic so he wouldn’t be incapacitated for a long period like a general anesthetic would do. “He needs to rest more than anything. And then he has to either stay awake or be capable of being woken up. Would you please go talk to the doctor who treated him first and see if the work he needs could be done under a local?”