Skill Set

by Vernon Rush

  Isaac was familiar with the lay-out of the morgue. The M.E.’s private office was toward the rear of the large autopsy room which was kept at an almost freezing temperature most of the time. There was a bank of closed compartment doors, all gleaming stainless steel, most containing the bodies of victims as yet unidentified or at least not released for burial or cremation. There were four stainless exam tables in front of the compartments, all gleaming with sterile cleanliness, all awaiting their grim duties in the day to come. Isaac covered the room in four strides and shoved open the door to Dr. Everett Mason’s office. He and Foxhound were waiting for him with expectant expressions on their tired faces, and Foxhound in particular seemed to be seriously rankled because of having lost a lot of sleep for this meeting. Isaac noticed he was smoking which he never did anymore unless he was really pissed about something. Neither of the older men seemed to be in a friendly mood.

  “Well?” Foxhound barely moved his lips as he spoke and the escaping blue cigarette smoke arose like large hazy apostrophes, one on each side of his shaggy head.

  “ ‘Well’ is right! Okay. . .I’m positive we’ve got a murder on our hands. . .” Isaac looked from one stony, glaring face to the other.l “I’m not kidding. I regret not thinking of it sooner but I didn’t. . .and no one else did, either.” “You damned well better have good facts to back up your claim…”

  “Yessir, I do. . .now, just hear me out, okay?” Neither of the men moved a muscle. “Emma Soto had plans for several days ahead, including a hair appointment and plane tickets for a weekend at the Grand Bahama Hotel four weeks from now, with reservations for a couple. Did you get that? A couple!”

  Both men blinked in unison. Isaac began to pace the floor, his excitement in Soto’s building.

  “None of us even considered murder. We assumed she off’ed herself and with no concrete reason to do so. This is not acceptable, gentlemen, not at our level.”

  Dr. Mason cleared his throat. “We agree, Rose. Just get on with it and share your evidence with us, please. . .”

  “Right. Okay, listen. Emma Soto had no reason at all to bow out in a hurry. She was in line for a possible bonus for her work during the last crisis with the complaint from the Chinese delegation to the Asian Conference . . .she had plans, gentlemen, plans, which I guarantee you did not include suicide!” Isaac stopped pacing and put his fists on his hips as he faced the men he had to convince of his theory. “It was just too fast, too easy, to assume this was a suicide. We are all guilty, not just the M.E. I want this glass…” he reached into his briefcase and removed a plastic bag, tied closed, in which was suspended the empty water glass found near Emma Soto’s body. “No, I insist this glass be tested for microscopic residue of some kind of deadly poison that is tasteless, colorless, and as potent and fatal as sarin or arsenic! And I have no doubt whatsoever there will be traces of whatever was used to kill Emma Soto. . .” All three men stared at the glass inside the clear plastic bag as Isaac placed it carefully on the desk in front of the M.E. No one said a word for nearly a full minute.

  “Young man, if you are correct, we are headed for a law suit, no doubt about it. . .” Dr. Everett Mason had a sparkling line of perspiration glinting from his forehead and his upper lip. “If you will sign this possible evidence over to me, I’ll get a tech started on this immediately. . .” He stood up and pulled a pad of forms out of the middle drawer of the desk, then filled out the time and date on the top sheet and held it out to Isaac. “Sign and date this and I’ll take it back to the lab myself. . .”

  Isaac signed the form and holding the plastic bag by the top edges above the closing knot, handed it to the M.E. who grabbed it and left the small office as if he were going to put out a fire, which perhaps he was.

  “All right, you’ve made your point, now sit down and wait. . .nothing more can be done until we know something. . .” Foxhound’s tone wasn’t as accusative as it had been.

  Isaac collapsed into the nearest chair and leaned forward his elbows on his knees. He massaged his eyes with his fingers then looked at his superior. “I’m ashamed I didn’t think of this sooner but it never entered my mind. . .just goes to show you, we can’t ever be too thorough or let ourselves get too damned cocky. . .”

  “You are correct about that! Now tell me what you think might be a possibility. . .I have no doubt you have a convincing scenario in that head of yours. . .”

  Isaac looked at his boss a few minutes as if to discern whether or not he was sincere or was still looking for ways to discredit his abrupt, headstrong manner of investigating. He cleared his throat and began speaking. “Um, yessir, I do have sort of an idea. . .no proof, you understand but just an idea. . .He swallowed and took a deep breath before continuing. “I’m sure you are aware Secretary Soto was on the committee to strengthen South Korea’s position in the Asian Conference. . .members of her family still live there and the North Koreans have hated the Soto family and all their close relatives for years. Remember when she visited there four or five years ago and was incommunicado for . . .what?. . .four-five days?”

  Foxhound nodded in agreement, leaning forward slightly, as if to hear better. “Yes, that was when she admitted she had been under the radar visiting a terminally ill cousin, the daughter of her deceased brother. . .in a village outside of Pyongyang…”

  “You are correct, sir. But we never asked for proof that her destination was, in fact, Pyongyang, did we?”

  “And just what are you implying?”

  “ Not implying, sir. Stating a fact. Yes, she went to Pyongyang but then took a night flight on Air Koryo north to Vladivostok with a quick overnight to Moscow then a hop to Tianjin and Beijing then back to Pyongyang for another quiet day and evening and then back to the states the next day. Her official itinerary initialed by herself before and after as well as by her adjutant and secretarial assistant who accompanied her, verifies all of the destinations with the exception of those in North Korea, Russia and China. Red China. Don’t forget, she was one of very few with an up-to-date knowledge of lots of Top Secret information such as where every rocket silo was located, where the other ammunition stores were hidden, how to access the below-ground bunker in Colorado where the indispensable government personnel would be hidden in the event of an attack, and what the oral command was to initial the launching of the final flight of the squadron carrying ten atomic bombs. She also knew where these bombers were hangared and how long it would take them to be airborne. She was scrupulously careful with a story of an unexpected storm over the mountains blowing her flight over North Korea off course and causing their electrical system aboard the plane to be inoperative. Which was a lot of bull shit. . .if you’ll excuse me, sir.”

  Foxhound nodded in assent; his cigarette had gone out between his fingers, but he didn’t seem to notice. He motioned for Isaac to continue.

  “Yes, sir, thank you, sir. It was during this ‘short honeymoon’ our Defense Secretary crammed for a final exam, so to speak. The Russian and Chinese highest-ranking linguists and foreign information specialists were waiting for her with concentrated computer files of questions for her to answer in code, immediately or later if she could memorize the material, and her heavy infusion of knowledge in both Russian, Chinese, and Korean stood her in good stead. She was the only high-ranking American with fluency in all three languages plus English and who also had a working knowledge of sensitive information including the maximum distance our striking power could reach. In return , they promised her the world’s best cancer specialists to care for her niece beginning immediately, plus a huge monetary bonus deposited into an off-shores account under an assumed name only she would know. They let her accompany her bed-ridden niece along with her adjutant and secretary and two male nurses trained in the latest cancer therapies to go along and she and this cortege were escorted by plainclothesmen and two uniformed policemen - North Koreans - to the research hospital in Vladivostok. Once her niece was ensconced in a private suite, our gullible De
fense Secretary was whisked away on the rest of the scheduled journey, deliberately and elaborately staged to distract her from her niece who was mercifully and immediately killed with the same undetectable poison that recently killed Emma Soto herself. She had begun to grow suspicious and her niece still hadn’t returned her calls, so she had decided she had been duped and was planning on telling us about the whole thing, trying to make amends and salvage as much as she could of her reputation. But, as you have guessed by this time, they couldn’t afford to trust her anymore, so they eliminated her as well. I suspect the poison used was similar to the nerve gas, sarin, or to arsenic, which is tasteless and colorless and only 2/10s of a milligram, administered in water, is enough to be deadly in a matter of minutes. I’m sure Dr. Mason will find what I suspect was the culprit. . .”

  “Someone mention my name?” Dr. Everett Mason reappeared in the anteroom from the lab where he had taken the tumbler. He sat down where he had been earlier and crossed his legs. “No, don’t look at me so expectantly. These things take time and we won’t know a damned thing for several hours. . .”

  “I was just telling Foxhound. . .”

  “Yes, I got the gist of it, there at the end. You may be correct, young man…we’ll know soon enough…”

  Foxhound stood up and sighed . “Okay, there’s nothing more we can do right now, but wait. I, for one, would like some bacon and eggs. If you two would like to join me, fine. If not, fine. I’ll meet you back here in an hour. . .”

  CHAPTER

  14

  The three gentlemen talked softly among themselves as they made their way into the elevator, then through the lobby and out the heavy front doors into the eerie pre-dawn morning. The sound of their shoes on the terrazzo hall floors then on the concrete walk outside was strangely noticeable with no other pedestrians around. They turned to the right when they reached the street and walked about half a block to the bright neon sign announcing an all-night diner.

  “This is my favorite breakfast place, my friends. . .” The M.E. held the door for the other two men. “Otto is the cook, and the owner. . .and I might add he makes a mean waffle.”

  They were the only customers at that hour, perhaps the first for the day, and all three ordered waffles with bacon and nodded “yes” to the question of whether or not they wanted coffee while they waited. Foxhound glanced sideways at his best agent, Isaac Rose, who was slumped over and had grown unexpectedly quiet.

  “What’s got your tongue, Rose? I didn’t see any cats around here. . .”

  “It’s nothing, sir, nothing. Probably just the aftermath of a lot of tension and the suspense of waiting. . .”

  “I’ll buy that. . .” The M.E., on the right-hand stool, nodded solemnly. “I get that disease waiting for every autopsy result. . .you get used to it, after a while. Sort of. Then an important case pops up and everything gets iffy again.”

  Otto served their waffles and bacon and all three realized they were ravenous. The tension of the past few hours had awakened their forgotten appetites. Nobody said much after that, other than asking for more coffee, and it wasn’t long before they were relaxed and chipper, more like their real selves again.

  Foxhound glanced at his watch. “I think the lab work on that glass might be just about done by now. . .so let’s get back to it and hope for a solution. . .”

  By the time the trio got back to the M.E.’s office, one of the technicians was awaiting their return, holding a manila folder. He handed it to Dr. Mason then quietly left them to their devices and returned to the lab.

  Isaac waited quietly, his hands folded on the desk top, watching the faces of the two older men as they concentrated on the details of the toxicology report. Finally, the M.E. looked up, his expression serious.

  “It looks like your hunches and suspicions were right on, Mister Rose. . .This report leaves no doubt that the contents of this glass held enough Ricin to equal the killing power of a pair of cobras. Ricin comes from the castor bean and is colorless, tasteless, odorless, and as lethal as the worst kind of poisons. There is no cure and there is no way to trace it. We did find one smeared thumb print and it looks like it came from a digit larger than that of Emma Soto’s would be. We’re still working on refining that print so we might have something to go on but it’s not going to be easy. I’m very sorry, Isaac. . .we should’ve caught this earlier but there simply were no clues that we knew about. Now we have to notify the CIA and the FBI and get all the sensitive information obliterated ASAP and changed. That, in itself, is going to be a gigantic task. . .”

  Foxhound cleared his throat and looked at Isaac over the rims of his glasses, his eyes piercing the space between the two men. “And how would you like to manage the clean-up crews, Mister Rose, or should I say, ‘Chaos’?”

  Isaac’s mouth fell open and he was so startled he couldn’t speak. “Ah. . .sir?”

  “You heard me. . .you missed this once, then you kicked over the biggest clue, then you stirred us up instead of pretending you didn’t know we had been buffaloed again…so I think you deserve to run the show and clean it up. . .for a reasonable compensation, of course!”

  Isaac tried to swallow and couldn’t work up enough saliva to make his mouth work.

  “Well? What do you think, Isaac? Are you man enough to drive this ship? After all, it would take me at least a week to brief someone new and you already know it all. . .so it’s your baby, if you want it.”

  Dr. Mason looked from one to the other, an almost-smile playing around his bristly whiskers. “Yes, sir…I mean, hell yes, sir! I can do this! Thank you, thank you! I’ll get those bastards and faster than you could possibly imagine…” Isaac stood up so abruptly, he knocked his chair over backward and didn’t seem to notice. He grinned from ear to ear and kept shaking the hands of the M.E. and his unit boss, Foxhound. “Uh. .I’ve got things to do, so if you gentlemen will excuse me?”

  Without waiting for an answer, Isaac Rose left the quiet building moving in a slow run, his mind bursting with details he needed to remember and contacts he wanted to renew and others he needed to make. The killers were as good as caught, as far as he was concerned. Months later he did what he was sent out to do, he strategized a clever plan , catching them totally off guard, destroying their very existence and operation, to there demise and his rise of prominence in the secret organization , Isaac had finally Rose.

  THE END

  Isaac Rose will be back

  Acknowledgments

  I would like to express my gratitude to the many people who saw me through this book; to all those who provided support, talked things over, read, wrote, offered comments, allowed me to quote their remarks and assisted in the editing, proofreading.

  About the Author

  A new indie, strong-willed author with a passion for telling a good story, I like to bring life to each of my characters. My stories are fun, exciting, and unique.

  I'm a veteran who is a native Washingtonian, now residing in southwest Florida, with a passion for storytelling. I love to keep my readers enthralled in my stories.

  You might ask, Where do you get your inspiration from?

  "People relaxing and enjoying one of my books, whether it's on a bus, plane, train, vacation time, or in the comforts of their home in their leisure time," Vernon says.

  I invite you to get a copy of my books and allow my stories to captivate your imagination and take you on an unforgettable journey.