“He’s running a fever and needs to go to a hospital at Fairbanks.”
For a split second, Sable was going to ask where their ambulance was, but realized the implications of what had happened. “Listen to me very carefully.”
“But—”
“Shut up.” Sable drew in a full breath and explained the entire situation. “You have to isolate him and Red from any contact and get a doctor immediately. And you’d better warn the doc what he’s likely up against.” Sable paused for a moment. “You need to get everyone they’ve had contact with into the clinic and under isolation.”
“We need to call in the CDC to help.”
“It’d be their death warrant. The Army will move in and take over your village. Can you hold off for a day or two?”
“I won’t guarantee a thing.”
As Sable put down the phone, he realized for the first time in his life he needed a drink.
Masters poked his head through the open door. “I’ve got a live one for you.”
“Who?”
“We got a call from a Major Johnson. He wanted to file a report on a missing person.”
“Let me guess—Dean’s wife is missing.” Sable chastised himself for not following the general the prior afternoon.
“You nailed it.”
“I’ll bet she’s dead.” Sable updated Masters.
Chapter 12
Major Johnson walked into the conference room and up to General Dean. He leaned over Dean’s shoulder and whispered, “Sorry, sir, no news on your wife.”
“They’re working on it?” Dean looked around the room at expectant faces. Soldiers and civilians lined the walls of the command briefing room and every seat was full. Special teams surrounded a long, oaken conference table. They were actively discussing methods for entering the research complex.
“Yes. At first, they weren’t—not until after twenty-four hours.”
“Did you drop the senator’s name?” Dean tried to focus both on the meeting and the major.
“It worked,” Johnson said. “If they find out anything, they’ll let us know.”
“Thank you.” Dean motioned for Johnson to take a seat next to him. “I really appreciate this.”
“No problem, sir.”
“If it weren’t for the emergency here, I’d be out looking myself.”
Dean felt relaxed. The plan for the murder had worked perfectly. It had been simplicity itself. He’d dropped the gun and jewelry in the river and now the evidence was gone. In the early hours of the morning, he’d taken Cindy’s car to North Pole, twenty miles south of Fairbanks, while pulling his Harley on a trailer. Then, on the return trip, he dumped the trailer into the Tanana and later the Harley into the Clearwater.
“We still may have a problem,” Johnson muttered.
“A problem?” Dean looked up, puzzled.
“Kincaid and Nelson aren’t home.”
“Maybe they’re in the lab.” The corner of Dean’s lips turned up slightly at the thought.
“Maybe.”
“Keep looking. Put the DIS on them.” Dean stretched back in his chair. “When you find them, you know what to do.”
Carl Jensen, a scientist from the Dugway team, stood. He looked over the top of his glasses while smoothing back his graying hair. “The way I see it, the fastest way is through the central shaft.” Dean smiled. Jensen was shorter than he was.
“We’ll have to be careful. An environmental access chamber has to be set up no matter which way we go in.” Dean recognized the voice of Dr. Larson, Redstone Arsenal team. He hated tall, lanky men. Larson’s ponytail bobbed from side to side as he looked around the room.
As Dean shifted uncomfortably in his seat, he winced. He’d walked over ten miles home. During the last three hours he hadn’t nodded off, but he was close to it. If they didn’t call a break soon, he would.
“A given. Once inside, we must shut the laser cannons down.”
“My team’ll disarm the lasers after yours makes sure there’s no contamination,” Phil Caldwell said. Dean made note—Caldwell—Dugway—‘CD’—an all-around Compact Dipshit.
“It may take a day, maybe two.” Jensen hunched forward. “There has to be a faster way. There may be people alive down there.”
“Right.” Dean took a sip of cold, stagnant coffee. “You’ll have to rush it.”
“We can’t.” Caldwell folded his arms. “I could lose men.”
“A chance we take in this line of work.” Jensen said.
“Can you cut through the main door?” Larson asked.
“Been tried. Each door is reinforced. It’ll take four to six hours for each one,” Caldwell said.
The conversation went back and forth until they agreed to use the central shaft. Then it shifted to repairing the main frame. Dean tuned in and out while rehearsing what to say to the troopers.
“Why are we working blind?” Caldwell asked. “We need to know the chemicals and agents your people were using.”
“You shouldn’t worry. During shutdown, the computer extracted any lethal chemicals and decontaminated the lower levels.” Johnson examined his nails and blew on them.
“But if we run into—”
“You don’t have the need to know.” Dean folded his hands in front of him.
The dialogue moved on to types of equipment, supplies, and appropriate time lines for each stage.
Dean stood, and under his breath, said, “You have the helm.” With that, he turned on his heel and left the room.
As Dean stopped at the post commander’s office, he gave the secretary the once over. He tried not to let his eyes linger too long. That way she couldn’t file sexual harassment charges. She was a shapely brunette with chocolate eyes. He felt his mouth water. “Any messages?” Her nametag read “Janet Day.”
“The state troopers want to meet with you.” She flashed him a smile. “They’ve found your wife’s car in North Pole, twenty miles south of Fairbanks.”
Taking the note from her hand, Dean thanked her and walked out.
Chapter 13
Another dead end.
Sable hung up the phone, ending his conference with the Anchorage Detachment. He mulled over the facts in the Dean case. He had to cover all the angles even though he suspected Dean was involved in his wife’s disappearance. There was something he had to remember. A sharp rap on the door pulled him from his thoughts. “Enter.”
Sergeant Thomas poked his head around the door. “Got an update.”
“Sure, have a seat.” Sable stretched in his chair. He had to get out of the office. It was Sunday, for Christ’s sake—he needed to be home with his family. “Has Dean filed a missing persons report?”
“Like you predicted.” Sergeant Thomas hunched forward. “He seemed so worried.”
“How’s the stakeout?”
“Look’s like all hell’s breaking loose at the post.”
“As we expected.”
“Trucks, choppers, you name it.”
“Have we found where he dumped Cindy?”
“Nope.”
“He put the car close to Fairbanks.” Sable doodled on the desk calendar.
“How do you figure?” Thomas placed his hands on his knees.
“He’s looking for a patsy.”
“Who?”
“Best guess says it’s Judge Blackston.”
“Does Blackston know?”
“I doubt it.”
“Well, are you going to tell him?”
“No, and don’t you,” Sable said. “Let him panic. He deserves it.”
Thomas unfolded himself. “Anything you need before I leave?”
“Tell Dean I’ll see him tomorrow afternoon,” Sable said. “Then go home.”
“You too,” Thomas said. “Enjoy your family before it’s too late. Don’t wind up like me—facing retirement alone.”
“Thanks.” Sable pushed away from the desk and stood.
Thomas limped to the door, placed his hand on the kno
b, then, turning, said, “By the way, the families of the scientists are causing quite a ruckus at the post.”
“Yeah?”
“They’re picketing and have a bunch of film crews camped outside the main gate.”
“Good for them.” Sable smiled and casually waved a salute. Thomas was right. He was spending too much time at the office.
* * * *
When Sable arrived home, he carefully opened and closed the door. Not even a squeak. He’d oiled the hinges days ago. She wouldn’t catch him this time. He slipped off his shoes.
“Is that you, hon?” Amy called from the kitchen.
“Sure is.” Sable walked to his gun case and ran his hand over the smooth mahogany. “How do you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Know when I’m home.” Sable locked his revolver up.
“It’s a sixth sense. Much like yours”
Sable slipped into the kitchen and up behind his wife. He folded her into his arms, leaned over her shoulder, and gently kissed her neck. “I’m supposed to be the one with the ESP,” he whispered in a low, throaty voice.
“Then why didn’t you know we’re going to have visitors?” She put down the knife she’d been using to cut the vegetables, turned to him, and sought his lips.
“Visitors?” He ran his fingers through her lush, blonde hair while gazing into her forget-me-not blue eyes. As Sable pressed her to him, he felt her sensual warmth.
“They wore suits and said they’d be back.”
He kissed her deeply, held the embrace, ran his hands over her body, and then slowly drew back. “Government?”
“Yeah, and they didn’t look too happy.”
“They never do.”
“Said they’d return. Something about an unauthorized access.”
“So—” Sable kissed her forehead. “What’s for dinner?”
“It’s your turn to cook.”
“Sunday—sorry, I forgot.” Sable headed to the refrigerator. “It’s this case.”
“Have you found the body yet?”
“No,” Sable said. “Steaks or stir fry?”
“Stir fry.”
“Sounds good.” Sable pulled a package of frozen vegetables from the freezer and a steak from the refrigerator.
“Why don’t you use your mumbo jumbo stuff?” Amy diced a carrot.
“With the steak?”
“No, your ESP.”
“I wish you wouldn’t call it mumbo jumbo. And it’s not predictable.” He sprayed the pan with a light cooking oil.
“It’s a—joke,” she said. “I know it’s not mumbo jumbo.”
As he turned on the burner, the doorbell rang. Sable switched off the stove. “I’ll get it; it’s probably for me.”
When Sable opened the door, he saw two men in dark blue suits. “May I help you?”
The tallest was lanky and had dull brown eyes. The other, who had hungry killer eyes, spoke, his voice harsh and guttural. “Are you Corporal Robert Sable?”
“Yes, and you—?”
“I’m Defense Investigative Service Agent Sam Chapman.” He flashed his identification. “And this is agent Don Strickland.”
“What is this concerning?”
“Do you know a William Ray Kincaid?”
“Yes I do. So?”
“And a Leonard Nelson?”
“So?”
“They passed top secret information to you.” Chapman stepped through the door and Sable blocked him. “Which you gave to Charlotte Aston.” Strickland’s hand moved to his belt.
“I don’t know what you’re getting at.” Sable evaluated the situation. He slipped back slightly into a modified karate stance.
“I don’t care if you are a State Trooper.” Chapman hit Sable’s chest with his index finger. “I don’t take crap from anyone.”
“Don’t.” Sable’s voice became deadly.
Chapman thudded Sable’s chest with his finger again. “I’m coming—”
Sable grabbed the finger and a crack echoed. He spun, threw Chapman to the porch floor, and tapped him on the jaw. As Sable looked over his shoulder, he saw Strickland draw his gun. He slid backward and drove his elbow into the man’s midriff, hit him with a back fist, and threw Strickland over his hip. Strickland fell in a jumble of arms and legs.
Sable cautiously approached the man but found him unconscious.
Amy rushed to the door. “What the—”
“Call Masters and tell him I’ve arrested two thugs for breaking and entering.” Sable stripped the agents of their guns. He felt the weight of Chapman’s .357. As he examined it, he noticed a dried fleck of blood on the muzzle. An image flashed across his mind. Conner was dead. “Tell him to take his time. I have a few questions for these two.”
“I’ll finish dinner.” Amy started to turn, but stopped. “Do our guests need any refreshments?”
“No. Don’t bother us for a while.”
Sable sat in his easy chair and watched his prisoners. Mr. Ugly was the first to return to consciousness. He groaned and found himself cuffed, hands behind his back. “What the hell?”
“Don’t cuss in my house.” Sable placed his hand on the guns lying on his lap.
“You don’t realize who you’re messing with—”
“Yes, yes. I know you’re big, bad federal agents, but you’re also a murderer.”
Chapman’s face screwed up into a snarl. “You’re insane. I killed no one.”
“You killed Agent Darin Conner.”
“Prove it.”
“The blood splatter on your gun is an excellent start. DNA tests don’t lie.”
Chapman didn’t even blink as he hunched forward. “Go screw yourself.”
“You got a warrant?”
“No. I have a federal badge,” Chapman said. “I have the full backing of the U.S. government.”
“Then you’re under arrest for breaking and entering.”
“Yeah, right. Dean’ll take care of you.”
“My sergeant’s on the way to collect you.”
Chapman tried to stand. “You and your family will regret this.”
“I think not.” Sable picked up a tape recorder from beside his chair, flamboyantly snapped it off. “Now sit.”
Chapman fell on the couch.
“King, come here.” Sable stood.
A huge, black and tan German Shepard trotted in, his tongue lolling from the side of his mouth.
“Eat them if they move,” Sable said. “I’m going to dinner.”
As Sable passed the dog, King growled and grinned to show off his sharp, white fangs.
Chapter 14
After packing his family off to a safe location, Sable headed to Fairbanks to see Judge Blackston. Of course, he could’ve let troopers from the Fairbanks detachment do the questioning, but he liked to be up close with a suspect. When he was five miles from town, his cell phone rang, pulling him from his thoughts. It was Jon.
“So everything’s okay?” Sable cradled the phone to his ear and doodled on a pad of paper. In the back of his mind, he knew there was a way to find Cindy Dean’s body. He tried to reach out with his ESP but it failed. His ESP was fading each year, and it seemed it was almost gone.
“Except for the virus.” Jon’s voice seemed strained. “We’re not sure if it’s contagious.”
“So the message is, don’t visit soon.”
“You got it.” Jon paused. “Did you know Red left two hours ago?”
“No. Why didn’t you try to stop him?”
“He needed his heart medicine.”
Sable cursed under his breath.
“Did you say something?”
“No.” Sable hunched forward over the wheel. “He didn’t take his own car?”
“No, Lee’s old beater. Remember, Bill’s Blazer broke down.”
“Not good. I hope he heads straight back and doesn’t dawdle at the house. It could be under surveillance.” He should visit Kanashig soon even if it required a protective suit. “If
he doesn’t make it back this afternoon, let me know.”
The progress was slow. Sable needed ammunition against Blackston before they met. He had been checking hotels and motels starting in Northpole. Since Cindy had her own credit cards, the company sent the lists of their uses for the last year, but there wasn’t a single hit on any of the hotels or motels. The Judge had been paying for the room. Outside town, he stopped at the Castle Lodge. As he entered, he surveyed the office. Behind the desk sat a dull-eyed youth, half asleep, watching the TV.
At the sight of Sable’s uniform, the boy swung around, tried to wake himself up and pretended to be attentive. “Can I help you, officer?”
“Sure.” Sable slid three photographs across the counter: one was of Cindy Dean, one of General Dean, and the last Carl Blackston.
The young man studied the pictures carefully and then shoved them back. His nametag identified him as Jeremy. “Sorry. I don’t recognize any of these people.”
Sable caught the subtle muscle twitch in the boy’s cheek and leaned over the counter threateningly. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Jeremy’s hands shook.
“How’d you like to go down to the detachment and answer some questions?”
“If I say anything, I could lose my job.”
Sable lean closer, pushed the photographs back across the desk and said, “We’ll keep this between us.”
Jeremy cleared his voice and separated out Cindy and the judge’s pictures. “This is Mr. and Mrs. Dawson. The other guy, I’ve never seen.”
“Thanks,” Sable said and continued his trip to Blackston’s.
The judge’s neighborhood was the high society district of Fairbanks off Chancellor Street. As Sable passed the houses, some with columns, others with security fences and high brick walls, he felt outclassed. These homes definitely eclipsed his log cabin on the Clearwater. Pulling up in front of a large, white house with blue trim, Sable checked the address and then headed for the door. Numerous flowers ranging from violets and pansies to pink carnations lined the walkway. When Sable hit the doorbell, it chimed a melody from Strauss.
A tall man with gray hair highlighting his temples, wearing a burgundy leisure jacket stretched taut by his shoulders, answered the door. He scrutinized Sable. “Corporal, I only handle warrants at my office.”
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