by Hinze, Vicki
Justin Crowe frowned. “What if one of the other targets Intel identified is attacked? Will this S.A.S.S. unit then stand down?”
“No.” Colonel Drake sent him a regretful look. “We can’t assume Kunz and GRID intends to attack only one target. He could launch simultaneous strikes at all identified targets.”
“Or none of them,” Maggie said.
“Or none of them,” Colonel Drake agreed. “Which is why we must be on-site and prepared to intervene if Santa Bella comes under biological attack.”
Kate laced her hands atop the table. “At what point do we activate the locals?”
“Eminent threat stage.”
Everyone groaned. That was far too late for any type coordination and effective response.
“Sorry—” Colonel Drake raised a hand “—agree or disagree, with multiple potential targets and no hard intel pointing in our direction, that’s the best we can do.” She let her gaze glide down the table. “Maggie, you’re primary.”
“But, Colonel,” Kate called, no doubt to oppose Maggie being given primary rather than Kate, who also had bio-expertise and was senior in experience. “I—”
“Yes, Kate?” There was steel in Colonel Drake’s eyes, and if Kate was half as smart as her dossier and records stated, she’d shut up now.
Evidently she noted it. “I, um, will be happy to provide backup, ma’am.”
Naturally she wouldn’t object this one time when Maggie wouldn’t mind. The last person in the world Maggie wanted to work closely with was Dr. Justin Crowe. He was too disturbing. Kunz had infiltrated high-level government positions before. Crowe could be a body double. If not, then his history still proved he couldn’t be trusted, and she just didn’t need the challenge of a disturbing man who could be a double and couldn’t be trusted added to the mountain of other challenges on this mission.
“Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind,” the colonel said. “Dr. Crowe will assist Maggie, of course, having developed the antidote.”
“Meaning no disrespect—” Maggie looked at Crowe but spoke to Colonel Drake “—but has Dr. Crowe’s DNA been cleared as authentic?”
“I’m not a body double, Captain Holt.”
“Glad to hear it, Doctor.” Maggie looked to the colonel for verification. “Colonel?”
“Dr. Crowe has been cleared, Maggie,” the colonel said, and sounded oddly pleased that the question had been asked. “Now, there’s a meeting set up for you two with Santa Bella management.” She flipped through her notes then went on. “Daniel Barone is in charge—Mall Administrator. He’s your point of contact, though you’ll actually work more closely with Will Stanton, Chief of Security. Maggie, you and Dr. Crowe meet with them and the store owners in an hour. Do what you can to get them to voluntarily close the mall.”
“And if they refuse?” Lost revenue would play a huge part in their decision, and only someone who’d flunked Business 101 wouldn’t acknowledge it.
“If they refuse, and they likely will, then draft a defensive plan and implement it. The entire unit is at your disposal for whatever you need. You’ve got my full support to act at will.”
Maggie nodded, accepting the mission.
Colonel Drake slowly looked from person to person around the table. “This incident is now officially an active S.A.S.S. mission, Priority Code Three.”
Around the table, all the operatives responded, “So acknowledged.” Maggie added her voice—and so, surprisingly, did Dr. Crowe.
The status gave Maggie a lot of leeway and she feared like hell she was going to need it. “Darcy, review all employee files for any three-month absences. Flag new employees, too. Anyone hired within the last six months.”
Darcy looked up at her. “Anything else?”
“Yes, please,” Maggie said, letting her gaze slide to Justin. “I want a full report on Dr. Crowe for the last six months. Projects he’s worked on, trips he’s taken, the works. I’ll also need a similar report on Barone, the mall administrator, and on the head of mall security. I want to know his credentials, as well.”
“You got it.”
“Dismissed.” Colonel Drake stood.
Maggie looked across the table at Crowe. “Let’s move, Doctor. We have less than twenty-four hours.”
“Dr. Crowe,” Colonel Drake said, a warning bite in her tone. “Should this crisis arise, please remember that it is not a handy field test for your antidote. If you must administer it, please do so judiciously.”
“Of course,” he said, not taking offense. He slid back his chair. “I’ll do my best to assist with the store owners, too, Colonel. If they understand the results of exposure, surely they’ll cooperate.”
“Maybe,” she said, though it was evident she thought their odds would leave space on a pinhead.
When Maggie and he left the conference room and entered the hallway, she spared him a glance. “I trust you’ll also do your best to not get in my way.”
“Your way?” The soft curve in his lips flattened into a firm line. “No problem,” he said. “But do clip your claws, Captain. Otherwise, they’re damned sure to get in your way.”
“I beg your pardon?” She stepped into the elevator. He followed and she pushed the button to take them up.
“Look, Captain Holt,” he said. “I overheard enough of your chat earlier to realize how you feel about men and why, but I haven’t done a thing to you, and until I do, I think it’s fair to insist you keep your bias to yourself. If Kunz attacks, our preparation will be critical. That warrants our total focus, and frankly, I don’t need the distraction of your attitude.”
“My attitude, Dr. Crowe, is precisely what it should be.” She pulled her teeth back from her lips and lifted her Jeep keys. “Are you riding with me or following?”
“Riding,” he said, though it was clear he’d sooner face the tortures of hell. “We’re waiting for Captain Cross to bring a remote unit so I can get in and out of here on my own.”
“Fine.” She walked to the Jeep and unlocked the doors. “Then get in and buckle up.”
Maggie and Justin entered Santa Bella Mall through the main entrance, then looped around Rothschild’s, cutting between it and Macy’s, to enter the mall’s administration wing. Only one door stood open along the corridor. Customer Service. People working inside were hustling. On the other doors hung discreet signs for Security and Medical Services, and tucked in the corner was Maintenance. At the far end of the hallway, positioned dead-center was the mall’s administration office.
Justin opened that door and Maggie walked through. A man nearly as tall as Justin stood waiting for them in the middle of the luxurious office, talking softly to a petite woman seated at a tidy desk. Impeccably dressed in a discreet gray suit, he glanced into a mirror hanging above a table. On it sat a large vase of sweet-smelling fresh flowers. Not a single, perfectly groomed brown hair on the man’s head dared to be out of place.
He smiled, his teeth gleaming white and perfect. “You must be Captain Holt—” he extended his hand, then turned to Justin “—and Dr. Crowe.” They shook. “Welcome. I am Daniel Barone, Santa Bella’s administrator.”
“Mr. Barone,” Maggie said, half expecting him to pull out a snowy-white hanky and wipe his hand.
He turned to the woman at her desk. “This is my assistant, Linda Diel.”
Maggie and Justin said hello, and Barone looked at his watch. “Excellent,” he said, shifting his gaze to the door. “You’re right on time.”
As if on cue, a second man appeared in the doorway. This one looked like an all-American mutt in his mid-forties with silvering blond hair. He wore a security uniform. His facial features were blunt and his eyes held a healthy amount of concern. Maggie innately reacted much more positively toward him than to Barone.
“Will, come in.” Barone turned to Maggie. “This is Will Stanton, my chief of security. Will, may I introduce Captain Holt and Dr. Crowe.”
Will extended his beefy hand, shook warmly. “I wish I could say I’m gl
ad to meet you, but under the circumstances…”
“I understand completely,” Maggie said, sensing an earnest quality in Will Stanton that enormously appealed to her. Her father had that same steadfastness, and she had mistakenly assumed all men did—at least until Jack had proved otherwise.
Barone covertly checked his watch again. “Are the owners ready, Will?”
“Yes, sir. There’s a rep from each of our 520 stores.”
“I told you owners were to attend this meeting,” Barone said, his tone sharp.
“Only three have sent their assistants. Unavoidable, they said.”
Barone grimaced. “Well, if that’s the best you can do.”
“It is.” Will lifted his chin.
“That’s an excellent response,” Maggie said. “Anything under twenty percent is considered amazingly good.”
“Thanks, Captain.”
“Very well.” Diffused, Barone looked from Will to Maggie and softened his gaze. “The auditorium is this way.” He motioned to the southeast corner of the facility. “Let’s not keep the owners waiting. Time is money.”
Justin rolled his eyes heavenward, and whether she trusted him or not, Maggie couldn’t help but agree with him. Barone was going to be an insincere pain in the backside.
When they walked through the back of the auditorium to the stage, Maggie heard the owners grumbling and speculating. Barone hadn’t given them a clue about the reason for the meeting. Nor had he told them what they could be facing. She held off a sigh by the skin of her teeth. Why wasn’t she surprised that he would leave the dirty work of explaining to her?
Barone introduced Maggie and Justin to the owners, and then Maggie succinctly laid out the challenge, including the fact that Santa Bella was but one of several potential targets.
The auditorium went silent. Tension escalated. Maggie could almost feel the owners’ stomachs dropping. She spoke candidly, omitting any reference to S.A.S.S., GRID or Thomas Kunz, of course, and then turned over the mike to Dr. Crowe to explain the virus and its impact in layman’s terms.
He gave them the basics, then opened the floor for what Maggie feared would be hours of questions.
Left of center and three rows from the front, a sleek woman stood up. “Cassy Brown, Celebrity.” She identified herself and then her store. “What are you asking us to do, Dr. Crowe?”
Justin turned to Maggie, lifted a hand. “I’ll trust Captain Holt to answer that.”
Maggie stepped up to the mike. “We’re asking you to close your stores for the day.”
The grumbling grew deafening—and overwhelmingly negative.
“George Halstead. Halstead’s, Jewelry Row.” A balding man stood and shouted to be heard over the din. “Captain, I’m afraid I didn’t hear you correctly. You’re asking us to close our stores on one of our busiest days of the year based solely on threat of an attack that might or might not happen, and if it happens, might or might not happen here?”
One bump at a time. “That is correct. Yes, sir,” Maggie said. “The threat is considered credible at the highest levels. You must understand, Mr. Halstead, that the only way we can say there will absolutely be an attack is after there is one.”
A stout redhead shot out of her chair. “Forget it,” she shouted. “I do a fourth of my annual business on Christmas Eve. Closing would put me out of business—and I’m not the only one.”
Others stood and agreed. Far too many for Maggie to delude herself into thinking she could turn them around. “I understand the challenges. But you’ve been apprised of the lethal impact of this virus. If it is turned loose, you must understand your customers won’t be shopping Christmas Eve or any other day. They’ll be dead. So will you.” She paused, let the finality of that reality sink in. “I understand your challenges, I do, but the risk to human life is—”
“Is Homeland Security telling us to close?” the same redhead asked, interrupting.
Maggie hesitated. “No,” she confessed. “Due to the multiplicity of potential targets, it isn’t. Not yet, anyway. But—”
“Then forget it,” the redhead interrupted again. “I’m not losing my business because these crazy bastards might hit us. Everyone in the country has been expecting to get attacked ever since 9/11. So far as I’m concerned, this day is no different than any of the rest.”
Maggie waited for the initial roar of agreeing voices to fade. “This threat is different. It’s much more dangerous. We’re convinced that there will be an attack.”
“Yeah, but you’re only sixty-five percent sure it’ll be here,” Halstead from Jewelry Row said. “We can’t close down every single day out of fear.”
He had a point, and Maggie agreed. They couldn’t close indefinitely or with every potential threat, but this threat was more solid. “You’re making a huge mistake. Past experience with this specific attacker proves he will do anything to achieve his objectives. Anything. To anyone.”
“We’ve seen dozens of suicide bombers on the news. They’re all nuts.”
“Call a vote.” The first woman who’d stood, Cassy Brown, said. “Simple majority rules.”
Maggie didn’t like it, but it was more than she had expected. “Fine. Vote. But there is a provision I’ll be adding.”
The auditorium again went quiet. “If you vote to open the mall on Christmas Eve, then each owner must be on-site from the time your store opens until it closes. You will not risk the lives of your employees—” she shot a look at Barone “—and protect your own by not being here. I will be all over this mall, from long before it opens until long after it closes, and I’m telling you now, when I come into your store, you’ll either be there or I’ll close it down.”
“Can she do that?” an unseen woman yelled toward Barone.
He stood, feet apart, his arms folded in front of him, and shrugged to let the owners know his hands were tied on the matter. “She can.” He solemnly nodded. “So can I, though I would never do so without a majority vote. I believe everyone should have a voice, and that voice should be heard.”
Spoken like a true bull-shitting politician, Maggie thought. Shifting responsibility to the owners. Very like Kunz, in that. Suspicious, she looked over at Barone and wondered if he was a Kunz double. “I not only can, I will.” Maggie absorbed the gasps, shocked stares, dragging jaws and outrage aimed in her direction. “Now go ahead, cast your votes.”
It took thirty minutes, but the final tally was 501 to 19 in favor of staying open.
Justin conceded, sent Maggie a defeated look laced with sympathy and worry.
“Okay, then,” Maggie said, unwilling to waste energy on regret. Facts were facts, and the sooner they were accepted, the sooner everyone moved on to working within the allotted framework toward protection. “Being open, there are preparations to make and not a lot of time to make them.”
Daniel Barone interrupted with a raised index finger. “Captain Holt, I won’t have a large number of security forces cut loose in this facility. That would certainly unnerve shoppers. Our primary responsibility is to make them comfortable.”
So the idiot would have them dead? That was some kind of whacked logic he’d embraced. No doubt, inspired by numbers. Sales. Bottom lines.
“My primary responsibility is to keep them alive.” She swallowed a grimace. “We will need some things done to better our odds of protecting everyone.”
“Like what?” the redhead said. “We can’t do much. We’re swamped already, Captain.”
“You’ll have make time for these things. Mr. Stanton from Security will send out a list.”
Justin stepped in. “An example of what we’re asking is to remove all aerosol cans from your shelves. That’s not optional,” Justin said. “The most effective means of spreading the virus is through an aerosol spray. We can’t risk your cans being confused with the terrorists’ cans. See what I mean?”
“So what?” a man sitting beside the redhead said. “We consider any spray can the virus?”
“Onc
e you clear your shelves, yes. That’s it exactly,” Justin said.
“That’s unreasonable,” the man said. “I own a hair salon.”
Justin’s jaw firmed. “Do you see any other option? Do you have another fail-proof way to differentiate the cans? Because if you’re not a hundred percent accurate, everyone in this room and everyone in the mall could be dead in twenty-four hours.”
Gasps and silence covered a long, still moment, then the redhead spoke up. “It’s your job to protect us, damn it. You do your job.”
Maggie stepped in. “We’re trying to, but you refused our best advice, which was to close the mall. So it’s an unreasonable expectation for you to believe we’re capable of being everywhere at once—particularly when extra security forces are being denied us. We’ll do all we can, of course. But you must also do your part. That’s the bottom line, and all the complaining in the world won’t change it.”
The starch went out of the protest, and the owners fell silent. “All aerosols will be removed from store shelves,” she reminded him of his place before the interruption. “Continue, please, Dr. Crowe.”
Justin went on, and Maggie looked out into the crowd. The owners were paying close attention now, their body language intense and rapt, but they weren’t panicked. Justin was doing a good job of empowering them with essential information. But because their panic had been postponed, they could listen.
From experience, Maggie expected that when the store owners left the auditorium and they had to start making the calls on what constituted a threat and what was innocent typical behavior, the panic would return. The fear of being wrong would bring back panic with a vengeance.
Justin talked on, gave them more information to expand their comfort zones and to give them a clearer understanding to help them better assess threats.