by C. G. Cooper
“Can I join you? My treat. I’m finally getting my appetite back.”
Brad did his best to look his friend in the eye and smile. “Mind if I take a rain check? I’ve gotta run home and clean up the place before Viv gets back,” said Brad.
His boss chuckled and waved goodbye as Brad rushed to leave, feeling another vomit attack coming.
By the time he pulled into his garage, his stomach and heartbeat had settled. While the events of the morning hadn’t been pleasant, at least the drama with Hunter was over. Sure they were friends, but he’d been in one helluva spot. Brad felt lucky that the two Feds hadn’t taken his securities license, or worse, thrown him in federal prison. He knew what could happen to bankers who knowingly dealt with fugitives, and it was never pretty. There’d been a handful of acquaintances who’d shared that fate in the wake of the Wall Street debacle not a decade earlier.
No, it was better that it was over. He’d move on and Hunter would have to take care of himself. Hell, the guy came from money. He had to have more somewhere. Sure, the millions Brad had transferred to the account that Cromwell guy gave him would hurt, but Hunter was a smart guy, a doctor no less.
That’s what Brad told himself as he entered his house, desperately needing a second shower, his body sticky with sweat and piss. He was so consumed with his thoughts that he didn’t notice the shadow descend like a wraith, a strong arm wrapping around Brad’s neck, muscles clamping down on his windpipe.
Malik Vespers didn’t let go, not through the thrashing or the release of Brad’s bowels. One minute, then two. Once he was sure Brad was dead, Vespers dragged the body to the tan microsuede couch, propping Brad up in the corner. A moment later he was back with a half-smoked cigar, its end still burning, and two liquor bottles, one a bottle of Bacardi 151 and the other a bottle of Everclear grain alcohol.
Vespers placed the cigar in Brad’s left hand and poured the equivalent of a couple shots down the cadaver’s throat. Then, after making sure the cigar was still lit and had already burned a portion of skin on Brad’s hand, Vespers poured a liberal amount of both bottles over the body and onto the couch and floor. With a lighter, he lit the flammable liquids and stepped back as the blue flames took, quickly engulfing Brad and the couch.
Normally Vespers would have worried about the trace evidence, but an advance team had already disabled the smoke detectors in the home, simply taking out the batteries. It was common for lazy homeowners to pull out a battery from a beeping alarm and forget to replace it. By the time the fire department arrived, Brad and his living room would be charred to a crisp.
Happy with his handiwork, Malik Vespers exited through the back door, walked around the house, and entered the waiting black tinted SUV.
“Done?” asked Col. Cromwell from the back seat.
Vespers nodded, once again happy that he could please his master.
Chapter 11
Charlottesville, Virginia
7:20pm, April 5th
The War Room hummed with activity. Cal’s men had separated into groups, happy to be working on something, even if it did sound crazy. Luckily, they’d installed upgraded central air ducts in the workspace or else it might’ve been stifling.
Cal and Daniel were sitting beside Jonas and Neil, who’d been swapping tech lingo for the past four hours, trying to come up with some way to find out who or what administered the supposed cancer cure. One of the first places they’d looked was the suppliers for the IV liquids and medications, but that turned out to be a dead end. Only a handful of the hospitals used the same suppliers and the likelihood of a major drug corporation randomly, yet not so randomly, dispersing the drugs was unlikely.
Neil’s software was in the process of filtering through thousands of hours of video feed, trying to get a hit. Nothing yet.
“Come on, guys, there has to be some way we can figure out who is doing this,” said Cal, feeling worthless as he looked on.
“I think it’s just gonna take time,” said Neil.
“For all we know they’ve come and gone, already on their way out of Charlottesville,” said Cal.
Jonas shook his head. “Unlikely. According to the timelines I’ve built, I think we have a day or two until our window. Neil’s right. Just give it some time.”
Without further guidance from the president, and because they were still getting their own assets in place, there wasn’t much Cal could do. He looked at Daniel who, as usual, sat placidly, digesting everything around him.
“You have any ideas?”
Daniel took a moment before answering. “Let’s do it the old-fashioned way.”
“And what’s that?” asked Cal.
“Let’s set up surveillance in the most likely spots around the hospital and see what happens.”
“But we don’t even know who we’re looking for.”
Daniel shrugged. “We might get lucky.”
Cal didn’t like it. They could have men on the ground for days without anything to show. The more he thought about it, the more he wished he hadn’t let Jonas convince him to undertake the investigation. Before he could voice his thoughts, MSgt Trent walked over with Gaucho.
“I’ll volunteer for the first watch,” said Trent.
“Me too, boss,” said Gaucho.
Cal looked up at his men, then around the room at the others who’d stopped what they were working on to see what their leader would say. The Marine shook his head, but smiled.
“Okay. Gaucho, you and your boys take the lead on this one. Plug us in wherever you need.”
“You got it.”
Gaucho and Trent moved to rejoin the rest of the troops, who were already grouping their chairs into the middle of the room. Cal couldn’t believe how excited they were about a boring surveillance mission until he realized that these men, these warriors, were accustomed to action. They’d lived and breathed combat and covert operations for years. Now they were stuck in some fixer-upper, waiting for him to come up with something to do.
Daniel must have read his mind because he nodded to Cal with that all-knowing grin.
Cal laughed and pointed at his friend. “Keep it up, Snake Eyes. You won’t be smiling ten hours into the stakeout.”
+++
En route to Reagan National
8:05pm, April 5th
Col. Cromwell and Malik Vespers were the only passengers on the Gulfstream V. The crew had been asked to stay out of the main cabin for the duration of the flight. There was work to do, and despite the crew’s security clearance, Col. Cromwell did not want to be overheard.
To ensure complete privacy, Malik Vespers stood next to the front hatch leading to the cockpit where the flight staff was. Cromwell sat at the rear of the aircraft staring into the wall mounted screen, earbuds in place. He watched the shadowy figures of the other callers, wondering why the rest of the men chose to be cloaked in supposed secrecy even though each member of the elite group knew the others. They’d been arguing for the better part of an hour, round and round the powerful figures went trying to insert their opinions.
“Gentlemen,” said Cromwell. The arguing continued. “Gentlemen.” More forcefully.
It was Senator Mac Thompson who finally noticed Cromwell’s voice. A bell sounded, it’s ringing stopping the heated back and forth.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I think Colonel Cromwell has something to say,” announced Sen. Thompson.
“I think Colonel Cromwell has said quite enough for today, Mac,” said a shadow-cloaked figure who was obviously massively overweight. Cromwell knew the man and hated him. The CEO of Hampstead Healthcare had never hidden his contempt for the soldier either, trying more than once over the past years to have Cromwell replaced by someone of his own choosing. Not that it bothered Cromwell. He knew he was one of a kind, a man who would do what others wouldn’t. What was still surprising to Cromwell was that Waldo Erickson, the CEO in question, couldn’t see how similar he was to the military veteran. Ruthless.
“Let’s see what he has to say. Colonel?”
said Sen. Thompson.
“Thank you, Senator. As I explained at the beginning of our call, I believe the situation is contained. If we—”
“Contained?” blasted Erickson, his ample chin visibly jiggling despite the darkness doing its best to cover him. “You’ve failed, Cromwell. Doctor Price should be dead by now and his files recovered. Please explain to me once again why we should listen to any more of your bullshit excuses.”
Cromwell was used to Erickson’s bellowing. He didn’t take the bait. “As I’ve told you before, we believe the best course of action is to take Doctor Price back under our control and allow him to assist us in our ongoing efforts.”
“Because that worked so well before?” snarled Erickson.
“I admit that we missed the warning signs prior to Price’s departure, but I did offer my resignation at the time, and if I remember correctly, my retention was almost unanimous.”
Erickson chuckled, the only dissenting vote at the time. “If you couldn’t control him a year ago, what makes you think you can do it now?”
Cromwell smiled. “I’ll soon have all the incentive he’ll need.”
Chapter 12
Charlottesville, Virginia
6:27am, April 6th
Cal yawned between sips of coffee. It had been long night and another early wake-up. He’d relieved a grinning MSgt Trent, who seemed no worse off after his six hour shift in the hospital waiting room. It had been less than thirty minutes and already Cal was regretting his decision to agree to the stakeout.
Daniel sat a row away, reading a magazine, seemingly entranced by whatever lay within its pages. Cal knew better. The sniper was always vigilant. Daniel saw everything.
Cal scanned the patients, family and staff who filtered in and out of the muted waiting room outside the entrance of one of the five patient care units Jonas picked as likely ingress routes.
Gradually, Cal found his gaze pulled back to the nurse manning the secure door, turning away visitors with the efficiency of a drill instructor. Her countenance was always kind, but her body language assured no argument. She knew her job well.
It made Cal think.
How would I get in there?
The post-9/11 world included all sorts of heightened security, oftentimes making criminal acts less likely, but sometimes making it easier, as corporations and even government agencies relied too heavily on technology. Although Cal loved technology that could enhance his operational efforts, he’d never once considered it a valid alternative to a warrior with a weapon in his hand, or even a veteran nurse manning a door.
Human nature allowed for errors. That fact had been repeated countless times over the centuries. Sleeping sentries. Sloppy police work. Subpar attention to detail.
Human error. Human error. For some reason the words replayed over and over in Cal’s head. He couldn’t shake it. Like a resilient pit bull, the thought clung to his subconscious with stubborn urgency.
Then the original question pierced through the haze. How would I get in there?
The answer came a moment later. Cal sat up a little straighter, suddenly wide awake.
I’d have to be a doctor.
Cal pulled out his phone and texted Neil. Focus your video scans on anyone dressed as a doctor.
Neil replied a moment later with a curt, Done. At least the tidbit might narrow down the search. Cal settled in once again, this time taking care to look at every man and woman dressed in scrubs or a lab coat.
+++
Dr. Price didn’t like cutting corners, but this time would have to be the exception. Unable to get access to the bulk of his remaining funds, he’d decided to speed up his timeline. Where usually he would’ve taken a day or two to case a new hospital, this go-around he’d have to administer the dosage on the first day. It was either that or he’d have to find a park to sleep in.
Walking out of the lobby of the Red Roof Inn, a cup of stale coffee in his right hand, a soggy danish in his left, Hunter Price made his way through the throng of young adults moving in the opposite direction. He looked like one of them. Young. In shape. Slightly harried.
Walking at a brisk pace, he crossed the familiar intersection and followed old memories to his destination. He’d dated a girl who’d been an intern there before. The occasional weekend romp hadn’t lasted though, his hectic work schedule always a strain. She’d married some lawyer in Fairfax, or was it Alexandria?
It didn’t matter. Never one with enough time to have a family, or at least that’s what he’d told himself as he traveled from hotspot to hotspot, Hunter Price wondered what it would be like to settle down, and whether he’d live long enough to have the chance.
Seeing his final stop up ahead, Dr. Price picked up his pace, grasping one of the straps on his backpack a little tighter. His nerves were shot, and he tried to glance around casually, knowing that he must look like a mess. But that was okay. Part of him knew that he’d fit right in. There was no shortage of stressed med-students in and around the hospital. In fact, two stepped up beside him as he got closer to the Emergency Room door. They looked worse than he did, faces sagging, dark bags under their eyes, both carrying the biggest cup of Starbuck’s coffee money could buy.
Price paused as if he’d stepped on something, letting the two students go ahead. He fell in behind them, mimicking their bedraggled shuffle.
+++
Cal watched as a group of overworked med students entered, each showing their ID badges to the nurse working the door. He could tell that she recognized most of them, nodding and smiling politely. Cal wondered whether she felt any love for her future superiors at all.
Three groups in, one of the soon-to-be-doctors actually got stopped by the gatekeeper. Cal couldn’t hear what she was saying, but the guy looked embarrassed, patting his pockets and finally whipping his backpack around to see if he’d somehow stowed the key there.
A moment later, the relieved looking student pulled out his ID and was buzzed through by the nurse as she cast a wary eye as he went.
Five minutes later, Cal’s phone buzzed and he took it out of his pocket, examining the text from Neil. Keep an eye out for this guy. Fits the timeline.
There was a set of three grainy photos. Cal had found the best way to look at pictures that had less than adequate resolution was to almost look through them, let them blur so you got more of feel for the shape of the faces rather than any specific details. He did this with the images Neil had sent and alarm bells instantly went off in his head. He’d seen that face before, Cal was sure of it.
Where?
Cal closed his eyes, tilting his head back as he processed the endless stream of people coming through the waiting area. Then it hit him. The guy who couldn’t find his ID.
Coughing in his hand to get Daniel’s attention, he motioned to the corner table that held a collection of old magazines. Daniel nodded and followed him over.
Cal handed his phone to the sniper who, unsurprisingly said a second later, “The guy with the backpack who couldn’t find his badge.”
Nodding, Cal ran through their options. They were already spread thin, their small teams watching over five locations. He was taking a chance if he called everyone in, especially if it was just a coincidence. Sixteen guys descending on an unarmed civilian in broad daylight wasn’t the best of ideas.
“You stay here. If the guy comes out, follow him and let me know where you’re headed. I’ll go to the rear exit we picked and tell the guys that just got off watch to head this way. Should give us good coverage.”
Daniel nodded and took his seat. He knew what to do.
Working from memory, Cal made his way out of the building and toward the rear exit that did not allow reentry. It was the most likely escape route, and there he would wait.
+++
Dr. Price’s heart felt like a heavy metal drummer was pounding away at it after snorting a few lines of coke. How could he have been so stupid? He’d swiped the ID badge the night before from a med student at The Biltmo
re Grill who’d had more than his share of whiskey and had roughly the same features as Price. But to forget to put it on? He was beyond blessed that the nurse at the door hadn’t looked closer at the picture or else he would’ve had a helluva situation to deal with.
Ten minutes later, his drug administered, Dr. Price made his way through the winding corridors to the back exit, shedding his layers of scrubs along the way. He exhaled in relief as he pushed through the door and stepped outside.
Chapter 13
Charlottesville, Virginia
7:39am, April 6th
Cal took a seat on one of the many pre-Civil War era stone walls lining greenways across campus. The spot gave him a good vantage point of two rear hospital exits. Behind one sat two janitors who’d propped the one-way door open with a brick. They sat chatting and smoking lazily, in no rush to get anywhere.
His senses tingling, Cal watched the steady stream of people walking by. Students. The odd professor. A tourist or three. A perfect place to get lost in a crowd.
Cal had his Springfield XD .45 tucked in his waistband, ready for use. He doubted he’d have any need for it, but that, along with the double edged knife tucked in a wrist holster on his left arm, kept him prepared at all times.
There shouldn’t be any need for force. Hell, Cal and his band of warriors still didn’t have a clue what they were dealing with, just a hunch from Jonas.
Without anything left do but wait, Cal did just that.
+++
Now donning a faded blue Virginia cap he’d purchased with the last cash in his pocket, Price scanned the area from under the bill. Comfortable in his pair of running pants and a well-worn white T-shirt, he took off down the sidewalk, fading into the stream of travelers.
+++
Cal watched the man in the blue ball cap and white T-shirt exit the building. That’s the same guy.