Imminent Threat
Page 3
“Only medicines in labeled containers of less than two ounces and baby milk will be permitted through security checkpoints,” the woman said. “Homeland Security apologized for the inconvenience this new regulation might cause, a regulation which begins effective today.”
Not only will half the stuff out there not kill you—it won’t even hurt you.
She clicked on her turn signal and waited for the next light to change so she could enter The Goldstein Group. It wasn’t well known to the general public but it was highly regarded in research circles, which led to Watson choosing to work here over a slew of other offers. After her Ph.D. defense of her thesis on HIV and vaccinations, she emerged as one of the nation’s brightest young minds in her field after graduating from the University of Maryland’s acclaimed Institute of Human Virology. She had her pick of research institutes across the country, but she loathed the thought of moving again and relished the idea of staying in the same area and working at The Goldstein Group. It wasn’t what she ever dreamed of when she entered Maryland’s program, but it surpassed her expectations in every way. Cutting edge research, the most up-to-date technology—and the pay? She couldn’t complain about it, though she refused to spend hardly any of her swelling bank account.
A knocking noise in her car’s engine attracted unwanted attention as she threw the gear into park.
“You might want to get that looked at,” Gary Mosley said as she got out of her car. “It won’t be long before you’re stranded along a shoulder in rush-hour traffic.”
“Good morning to you, too, Gary,” she said, ignoring his comment.
“I could take a look at it for you,” he said.
“You’ve got better things to do in your evenings, I’m sure,” she said, stepping out of the car. “Besides, I’d rather buy another used car than sink money into this thing again.” She paused. “I think I’ll just drive it until it dies.”
“Suit yourself. You know how to reach me if you change your mind.”
Watson waited until he turned away until she rolled her eyes and shook her head. If Gary had tried once to put the moves on her, he’d tried a hundred times. He was 45, single, and desperate—two of three major strikes that went against him. Then, when Watson considered the fact that he worked with her, he struck out completely. She concluded long ago that a workplace romance wasn’t anything she desired—no matter how handsome the specimen might be.
Before she’d even put her things down, The Goldstein Group director, Dr. Harrison Franklin, stormed into her office with a folder in his hand.
“Good morning, sir,” she said.
“No time for pleasantries, Dr. Watson,” he said sharply. “I need your help on this antidote. Some other researchers have made progress, but I know you’ll be able to help speed up the process.”
She took the folder from him. “Why the urgency? I haven’t heard of any report about this virus, other than what you’ve told me.”
“Just trust me. It’s coming to the U.S. soon and we need to be ready.”
“And you think I’m the one to do this?”
“It reacts similarly to HIV in the way that it attacks the body’s immune system.” He pointed at the file. “Just read it and tell me what you think. I’ve got some samples that you can begin work on right away.”
“Like that?” she said. “You think I can figure out a vaccine with the snap of my fingers. These things take time.”
“Time isn’t on our side, but you won’t be starting from ground zero. A team of great researchers has been working on this for a while, but they can’t seem to solve it. There’s credible evidence from Homeland Security that the U.S. is going to suffer a biological attack from this virus in the very near future.”
“How near?”
“Days, weeks. We’re not sure. But if we’re not ready when this thing hits the U.S., this virus could turn into a pandemic in a matter of days. Good enough for you?”
She nodded. “I’ll get to work on it right away and see what I can do.”
Once she settled into her chair, she started to read the documents Dr. Franklin handed her. Her eyes widened at the pictures showing how the virus devastated its victims. After she finished reading the report, she started to peck away on her computer. About an hour later, she got up and entered the lab where she greeted Dr. Mosely.
“Has the director got you working on this, too?” he asked.
She nodded but didn’t look up. Instead, she stared at the slide in front of her and carefully carried it to the microscope near her workstation in the lab. She peered through her microscope and gasped at what she saw. “Have you looked at this?” she asked.
Dr. Watson looked up in time to see her associate shove a needle into the arm of a monkey caged in their lab.
“What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing? He’s got me working on a cure, not a vaccine.”
She crept closer as the monkey’s eyes began to bleed. “What did you do?”
“I injected it with the virus.”
The monkey started to spasm and then went into what looked like a seizure.
“Oh my—”
He stepped back and stared at the animal. “I’m told it works much slower on humans than monkeys, but I’d prefer never to find that out myself.”
“You and me both,” Watson said as she scurried back to her desk.
CHAPTER 6
JAMES FLYNN DIDN’T MIND sharing tight spaces, particularly with Kim Gates—though he would’ve preferred other circumstances. Flashing lights and blaring sirens proved to be counterproductive to any kind of romantic notion he had toward her.
“Why are we hiding in the closet again?” Flynn asked. “Don’t we need to get out of here if there’s some kind of nuclear disaster?”
“That sound is a different kind of alarm—one I thought I’d never hear outside of a drill.”
“And what sound is that?”
“The sound of a breach.”
Flynn peeked out of the closet door as scads of researchers hurried toward the exit. “Shouldn’t we be following them?”
“Yes, but—” She stopped.
“But what?”
“I’d rather just hide in here. No telling what awaits outside this door.”
“I never took you for a fearful woman.”
“My father was killed during a terrorist attack overseas a few years ago. If he had stayed put instead of trying to be a hero, he’d still be with us today.”
“Well, a lot more people are going to die if we don’t get out there and figure out what’s going on.” Flynn pulled the gun out of the holster that wrapped around his back.
“You have a gun?” she said.
“No one frisked me. Besides, I’ve had a difficult time leaving my former CIA life behind. If I can help it, I never venture outside without my piece.”
Her breathing turned short and shallow. “What are you going to do with that thing? Shoot somebody?”
Flynn peered into the hallway through a cracked door. “If I have to, yes.” He paused and turned and looked at her. “Just calm down. Everything’s going to be all right.”
Before she could protest, he flung the door opened and fired at a trio of people toting guns storming down the hall.
“What are you doing?” she squealed.
“Trying to stop some terrorists.”
He slammed the door as he exited the closet and chased after the three people who looked out of place in the research facility. He sprinted down the hallway and slid as he turned to the right. Nothing. Any terrorists had vanished down the hall. He kept running, the burn in his lungs creating a sharp pain in his chest. Flynn ignored it and continued on.
He turned again to the right and caught a glimpse of one of the terrorists. Without hesitating, he hoisted his gun up and opened fire.
Yes!
He hit the trailing man among the trio with a shot to his upper right back. The man crumpled to the ground. Flynn rushed to
ward him but the other two vanished down the hallway.
He stood over the man bleeding out. “What were you doing here?”
The man glared up at Flynn and spit at him.
“I asked you a question,” Flynn said as he jammed his knee into the man’s chest and knelt down close. “What were you doing here?”
The man spit at Flynn again.
Flynn flipped the man over and jammed the barrel of his gun into the man’s back. The man screamed a few distinct phrases Flynn understood.
“Oh, so you’re Russian?” he said. “What brings you to Idaho National Laboratory today?” He paused and added more pressure to his gun. “Or should I squeeze it out of you?”
The man wailed in pain yet refused to answer Flynn.
“Fine. Have it your way.” Flynn grabbed the man’s arm and broke it, eliciting more shrieks of pain. “Like that? Want some more?” He grabbed the man’s other arm.
“Okay, okay. I’ll talk. What do you want to know?”
“That’s more like it,” Flynn said. “So, what are you doing here?”
The man paused and turned up to look at Flynn. “Pissing off an American asshole.”
Flynn shoved his knee into the man’s back again with swift force. More screams.
“I’m not going to ask again.”
“Good,” the man said before he passed out. Blood continued to pool around his limp body.
Flynn rolled the man over and took a picture of him with his cell phone. He texted the image to Todd Osborne, his remaining contact and lone friend at the CIA. Then he called Osborne.
“So, I’m guessing this call has something to do with the picture of the dead man you just sent me,” Osborne said as he answered.
“He’s not dead yet.”
“Just give me a second as I upload this to our database and try to get a hit.”
Flynn glanced around the room but didn’t keep his eyes on the man. Before he knew it, he’d grabbed Flynn’s gun and pulled the trigger, shooting himself in the head.
“What was that?” Osborne asked.
Flynn glanced at the man and shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. We won’t get any answers out of him now. He’s gone.”
Kim slumped to the floor, her back against the hallway wall. She sobbed heavily.
“Let’s get you out of here,” Flynn said. “You don’t need to see this.”
He helped her up and ushered her outside to a golf cart. “Go back to the main building. I’m sure it’ll be safe there. I want to make sure nobody is still inside.”
He went back inside and raced down the hall where the other two people had disappeared. Nothing. INL was under attack—and Flynn was no closer to knowing the answer now than when it all started.
CHAPTER 7
SENATOR THOR STORMED into Senator Ryan’s office. He noticed the elder statesman’s hands shook as he towered over him. Ryan glanced at him before looking back down at his papers.
“Can I help you?” Ryan asked.
“Perhaps you better start by telling me what the hell you think you’re doing in there?” Thor said as he stamped his foot. “Our national security is on the line, something the American people elected us to uphold—and you’re acting like you don’t even care. Are you even aware of the elevated threat level since plutonium was stolen from a lab on American soil earlier today?”
Ryan continued to sift through the papers in front of him, acknowledging his junior counterpart with nothing more than the slight rise of his eyebrows.
“What’s wrong with you?” Thor continued. “Where’s the fire you once had? Where’s the man who fought valiantly for this country and nearly sacrificed his own life to save others? What happened to that guy? Because that’s the guy I wanted to partner with on this committee. When you find him, will you tell him to give me a call?”
Thor spun and strode toward the door. As he put his hand on the knob, Ryan finally spoke.
“Do you want an answer or do you want to just yell at me?”
Thor turned around, walking back to Ryan with measured steps. He put his knuckles on the desk and leaned forward. “Why don’t you stop playing games?”
Ryan glanced back down at his papers and remained quiet.
“So, I guess you can’t give me an answer, can you?”
Ryan slammed his fists on his desk and stood up. “You know what the problem is with all these younger generations? You all think the world owes you something. Entitled little punks today think we need to give them high-paying jobs for brainless work. Corporate entities believe they deserve to be handed interest free money so people don’t lose their jobs—and they don’t lose their precious retirement pensions. And you? You think you deserve an answer for how I acted in a meeting today. The only difference between you and all the other entitled snots out there is that you actually are entitled, pretending like you’re serving the people when you’re only serving yourself.” He paused. “I doubt you even know—or care—about how people out there feel today. You have no idea of the struggles people in this country went through to gain the enormous freedoms we have today. You have no idea of the struggles some people still face on a daily basis. I bet you’ve never even served in your life, except maybe scooping beans on a plate in a soup kitchen for a photo op.”
Ryan sat down and mopped his brow with a handkerchief.
Thor smiled. “There’s that fire—but it still doesn’t explain why you’re working against me on getting our defense department properly funded.”
“We are engaged in a game, Senator Thor. And if you intend to win, you must never tip your hand too early.”
“And what exactly is in our hand?”
Ryan shook his head. “I’m not sure what’s in your hand, but I know what’s in mine—and I’m going to win.” He stopped and took a deep breath. “We’re going to win. America is going to win.”
“Win what, sir?”
“The war on terror.”
“There is no war on terror, but there is a war on terrorists and the real live missiles those lunatics will be hurling toward us if we don’t stop them.”
Ryan sniffled and stared past Thor in the direction of the office’s lone window. “I suggest you stand down, Senator Thor. This isn’t a battle you’re going to win—not in a committee meeting or in a court of public opinion. I have a plan and just because I haven’t made you privy to it, doesn’t mean we’re on opposing sides.”
“Then I suggest you fill me in.”
“I suggest you get control of your righteous indignation and be a good team player. Who knows what might happen to you if you continue to row against our team.”
“Are you threatening me?”
Ryan let out a hearty laugh. “I might be old—and partially deaf—but I’m very well connected. And I can assure you that you don’t want to cross me.”
Thor’s eyes narrowed as he pursed his lips. He walked around to the back side of Ryan’s desk and leaned over him. “Watch your step old man,” he said, kicking Ryan’s cane to the floor. “Your time to pass might come sooner than you’d like.”
CHAPTER 8
THERE WAS NO EASY WAY out of the Idaho wilderness for Svetlana and her team. The I-84 route ran east and west and was the major thoroughfare through the state. But the element of surprise was on her side, as the law enforcement forces that would be pursuing her would have no idea where she was headed.
Straight north was Canada, a seven-hour drive if they cut through Montana. The Oregon coast was a twelve-hour drive west, the Utah desert a four-hour trek. And while they were all good places to disappear, they weren’t optimal locations for getting plutonium out of the country—that designation rested with the Idaho port city of Lewiston, a destination not likely to be searched.
“Did you see that guy flip into the air?” Vladimir asked. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Niko shook his head. “A new experience for me.”
Svetlana smiled as she adjusted her rearview mirror and press
ed harder on the gas. They needed to hurry up and make it to the next town so they could ditch Harold’s truck and get a different ride.
After nearly an hour of hard driving, Svetlana slowed down as they approached the small farming community of Carey. She instructed Valdimir and Niko to keep a low profile, as attracting any attention in such a small town might alert law enforcement of their location. She parked the truck behind a Family Dollar store and got out. She left Vladimir and Niko in the truck while she walked down the street about a block away in search of a new vehicle. It didn’t take long before she found an unlocked truck parked along a side street with the keys in the ignition. She jumped in and turned the ignition as the truck roared to life. After revving the engine several times, she waited to see if anyone came out after her. Nothing. She turned the truck around and picked up her two team members.
“Did you get the bolt cutters?” she asked.
Vladimir nodded and threw the tool into the back of the pickup.
“Good work,” she said as they headed back toward the main route.
They soon veered off onto a dirt road that headed northwest across the state. They bumped along for a little over an hour before a shirtless man laboring under the burden of a backpack flagged them down in the middle of the road.
He motioned for Svetlana to roll down her window.
“Mighty nice of you to stop,” he said as he leaned on the door. “Where are you folks headed? Portland? Seattle?”
Svetlana eyed him cautiously but said nothing.
“Well, aren’t you folks gonna say something?”
“We’re going to Lewiston,” Vladimir said.
Svetlana reached across and punched him in the chest.
“I detect a different kind of accent there. Where are you guys from? Minnesota? Wisconsin?”
“We’re from shut-the-hell-up,” Svetlana said.
The hitchhiker put his hands in the air in surrender. “No need to get ugly—I’ll just wait for the next truck to come along.”
“No need for you to know where we’re going either,” she said before raising her gun and putting a bullet in his forehead. The man slumped to the ground.