by Hinze, Vicki
“The germ itself is microencapsulated,” he said. “Once these minute capsules are breached, either through forceful impact or contact with water, the virus will be active and contagious.”
“Do you have to touch something to get it?” an unseen man asked.
“No, you do not,” Justin told him. “The virus can be ingested, breathed or absorbed through the skin. A microcapsule touching wet skin is the fastest way to absorb the infection. It causes the most fatalities because the body has less time to react to protect itself.”
“So if people start to get sick, they should just come to the medical office?” The redhead spoke again.
“No.” Justin cast a covert glance at Maggie and caught her subtle nod to disclose. “There’s no time for that, I’m afraid,” he said. “Once the virus is absorbed, there’s only a two minute window to inject the antidote. After that, it’s too late.”
A solemn hush filled the auditorium.
Maggie looked from face to face. All of the owners appeared to be feeling the full weight of their decision to keep the mall open. The full weight, and the full fear. Seizing the moment, she asked, “Now that you’re more fully informed, would you care to cast a second vote?”
“The vote has been had, Captain. Don’t attempt to intimidate the owners into bending to your will.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Barone,” Maggie said, her voice formal and stiff. “Offering them an opportunity to vote is hardly telling them what to do.”
Barone ignored her and addressed the owners. “You’ll each receive a written list of instructions within the hour. Please comply with all of them as soon as possible and then report your compliance to Security. On behalf of management, I’m asking for complete cooperation with Captain Holt and Dr. Crowe. If this attack should happen here, we will be totally reliant on their skills and expertise to avoid catastrophe. We must help them help us.”
Maggie offered Barone a nod of thanks. Maybe she’d formed a negative opinion about him too soon. He seemed to be coming through for the most part now with his support.
“Also,” Barone added. “Do remember to keep this discussion confidential. Otherwise, we’ll have open stores tomorrow but no shoppers. None of us can afford that. In the morning, of course, you’ll have to tell your employees what to watch for—but please mention nothing before then.”
Barone was accurate on this. Employees would warn family and friends, who’d warn family and friends, and the next thing the owners knew, the mall would be vacant and surrounded by reporters with camera crews. Thomas Kunz would love that. He’d see it as an opportunity to infect the press and the S.A.S.S.
The owners shuffled out of the auditorium, their expressions grim.
Barone spoke to Will Stanton. “I’m going to have to excuse myself to reassure individual owners.” He shifted his gaze to her. “Captain Holt, Will is available for whatever you need.” He shot a warning look at Will. “Remember our limitations.” Barone strode away and was immediately engulfed by worried owners.
Barone’s parting comment to Will alarmed Maggie, and from the troubled look Justin sent her way, it hadn’t sat well with him, either. Maggie turned to face Will. “What did Mr. Barone mean about ‘limitations’?”
Will frowned, pulled Maggie and Justin across the thoroughfare and into a hallway between the security and medical offices. The little alcove had rest rooms on the left and right, and dead-ended at a door marked No Exit—Employees Only.
“I’m not sure what he meant,” Will admitted. “But I take it he hasn’t mentioned anything to you about the Winter Wonderland going on here tomorrow afternoon and night.”
“What exactly is that?” Stones tumbled in Maggie’s stomach.
“The owners have spent a fortune to create a snowfall in the Center Court pit tomorrow for the kids. You know, snowball fights, building snowmen—things people don’t normally get to do in Florida.”
“Oh, man,” Justin said. “That means every kid in five counties will be here.”
“That’s what the owners are hoping.” Will shoved a hand into his pants’ pocket. “The mall has twenty-six A-stores, ones comparable to Macy’s. Eight are located on each level,” he explained. “The rest are smaller B-stores. Specialty shops, restaurants, that kind of thing.”
Maggie nodded. “Right.”
“So, as you’d expect, the A-stores have a big voice in all mall operations.”
“What’s your point, Will?” Maggie nudged him.
He pursed his lips, debating on what to say and, for the sake of his job, what he should leave unsaid. “Right after Mr. Barone got the first call on this situation, he set up a meeting with the twenty-six. He forgot to mention it to you. That took place at seven o’clock this morning. They agreed to extra security, provided it is requested, discreet and in no way interferes with shoppers. But they flat refused to have medical staff inside the building, with the exception of Dr. Crowe. That would be a signal something was wrong that the shoppers couldn’t miss. They’d be afraid and leave, taking their money with them.”
“You can’t be serious, Will.” Justin rounded on her. “Two minutes is all we have, Maggie. I can’t inject—”
She lifted a hand, half surprised he’d used her first name but fully grasping his objection. Her own mirrored it. “We’ll work around it.” One bump at a time.
“Sorry to say I’m very serious, Dr. Crowe.” Will looked even more worried than he had before the meeting. “Mr. Barone will never do anything the twenty-six don’t want done. No way.”
“We’ll work around it,” Maggie said again, fighting an internal war. The owners grasped that they could be playing Russian roulette with shoppers’ lives and their own, but they couldn’t close their stores forever on a maybe, especially without a Homeland Security advisory ordering, or even recommending, they close.
She made a mental note to have Darcy petition again to get a shutdown order issued. And then outrage flooded Maggie. Outrage that the owners would jeopardize other people’s lives for their own money. Wasn’t that what Kunz was doing that everyone found so vehemently objectionable?
Her cell phone rang. Maggie stepped away and answered it. “Holt.”
“We’ve got another wrinkle.” Colonel Drake sighed. “From five to nine on Christmas Eve, you’re going to have two groups of significant interest in the mall.”
Terrific. What else? “Who?”
“For one, Special Forces members and their families.”
“Oh, no.” Kunz would love that. Freaking love that.
“I’m afraid so.” The Colonel paused. “The mall is staying open later because the store owners are creating a Winter Wonderland in their honor. Well, theirs and the local Special Olympians.”
“Oh, God, no. I just found out about the Winter Wonderland but I didn’t know about the guests.” Maggie’s heart skipped then thudded and her muscles clenched. To GRID, the Olympians would merely be collateral damage. Targeting and killing Special Forces members—the same Special Forces that dogged GRID members and activities worldwide—would be payback. “Did you make an appeal to their commander?”
“General Foster, yes,” she said. “He won’t budge on a potential attack, even if it’s a credible one.”
Maggie frowned, stared at the No Exit sign on the door at the end of the hall. “Neither will the store owners. They voted to stay open.”
“Well, unlike the store owners, if needed, these guys will back us up.”
“Well, there is that.” Unfortunately the Special Forces members would feel they had reputations to protect—as well as their families—and under no circumstances would they back down to GRID. Not on a known attack, much less on a potential one. “How did you know about them and the Olympians?” Maggie asked. “Did Darcy get in an intel update?”
“No, Maggie.” Colonel Drake’s voice held dread. “I read it in the newspaper.”
And yet another hit. They were coming so fast and furious this situation should qualify as a slugfes
t. “In the newspaper?” So Kunz likely had read it, too. “Have Darcy add this new information and appeal to headquarters for a shutdown order.”
“Will do. But don’t expect much.”
“I don’t.” HQ would likely see Special Forces being on-site as a plus, an enhanced shot at capturing Kunz. “But I want the request on record.”
“Excellent move.”
“Thanks, Colonel.”
Justin smiled at Maggie for no apparent reason, and in a foul mood, she lifted her chin in his general direction and ended the call.
After updating Justin and Will, Maggie needed a minute to assimilate the new wrinkle. “Excuse me,” she told Justin and Will. “I’ll be right back.” She took refuge in the women’s rest room on the left off the little alcove.
How in hell was she going to pull off a successful defense of this place? Stepping over to the sink, she washed her hands with scalding hot water and looked into her own eyes in the mirror. She had reluctant retailers in the largest mall in the south, an unknown number of potential GRID attackers cutting loose a lethal virus on Special Forces, their families and Special Olympians and, no doubt their families, and the general public.
She had minimal intelligence, minimal and reluctant cooperation with mall management—Barone was good for lip service and Will Stanton was hamstrung—and minimal medical backup. Local authorities couldn’t be activated and called up unless Homeland Security issued an authorization, and by the time it did, the assist would be too late to be of help.
If GRID did attack and release the virus at Santa Bella, there was no way Justin Crowe could be on all three levels, vaccinating everyone within two minutes. Special Forces were medically field trained and could assist with that, but even with their assistance, the person-to-person ratio was too low to be successful with a two-minute-injection window. And the antidote hadn’t yet been field tested, which meant there could be a significant number and types of unexpected reactions to it.
Feeling overwhelmed, Maggie gave herself a mental shake, dried her hands, then walked back out into the narrow hallway. Justin stood waiting for her, and if the worry lining his face accurately indicated his mind-set, he’d been doing the same analysis as she and had come to the same grim conclusion.
Their mission odds were a shade shy of impossible.
“Maggie?”
“Yes, Justin.” The next thirty-six hours were going to be too intense to stand on formality.
“In your personal opinion, based on all your experience, what are the odds GRID will attack this mall?”
Maggie leaned her shoulder against the creamy wall. “Based on all we know, without Special Forces being present here, I’d have put the odds at about fifty-fifty.” She paused, looked down at her feet, then went on, dreading the words to soon leave her mouth. “With Special Forces being on-site tomorrow, I believe Thomas Kunz and GRID will find the temptation to attack Santa Bella irresistible.”
Chapter 3
Santa Bella had been designed in quadrants.
The northwest quadrant was dedicated to women, the southwest to kids. Men’s stores, Jeweler’s Row and specialty shops from around the world were situated north of the administration wing in the northeast quadrant. Restaurants surrounded Center Court, where events were held. There was a stage with heavy red-velvet curtains and a deep marble pit, where the snow would be located. Knowing this much was fine for general purposes, but to do her job successfully, Maggie needed specific details. She looked across the waist-high counter at the front of the security office to Will Stanton. “I’m going to need a copy of the facility’s floor plan as quickly as you can get it to me. All three levels.”
“Yes, ma’am, Captain Holt.”
“Maggie.” She smiled at him. “Otherwise, we’re going to be tripping over tongues by this time tomorrow.”
“Maggie,” Will said with a nod. “Is there anything else you need from me right now?”
“No. I know you’re eager to get that listing of items to the store owners.” The sooner, the better for her, as well.
“Yes, ma’am.” He shoved a gold pen into his shirt pocket. It glimmered in the light.
“Thank you.” She stepped back from the counter. “We,” she said, meaning she and Justin, “are going to walk the facility. Afterward, we’ll likely have more recommendations to add.”
“We’ll plan on distributing a supplemental list, then. Doing two will allow the owners to get going on some of the recommendations now.” He nodded at Justin, then turned to his office staff of three women and two men seated at their desks. “Move on it,” he told them, then looked back at Maggie. “The twenty-six agreed to extra security, Maggie—if you ask for it. Overtime is authorized and backup guards are on call.”
Maggie didn’t miss his point. “I’m asking, Will.”
Relief lashed across his face. “You got it. We have thirty men trained for inside, an additional twenty for the north and south parking garages and the open parking in between. How many do you want activated?”
“I’m assuming the mall will be open all night, setting up for this Winter Wonderland. Is that right?”
“Yes, ma’am. It’ll take them at least nine hours to prepare the pit and set everything up. Harry and Phil Jensen, the owners, will have the crew start at midnight.”
“Then activate all the guards,” Maggie said, making the call. “Start them at midnight and carry them through until we know we’re on the other side of this tomorrow night.” Maggie hitched her purse strap on her shoulder. “We’re also going to need personnel records on Harry and Phil, information on their company, and background data on the snow crew.”
“I’m on it.” Will looked over at the woman seated at the first desk and began reeling off orders.
Maggie glanced at Justin. Often lab rats got in the field and froze, but he stood quietly and calmly watching Will. Intense, but in control. So far, so good. “Ready?”
He nodded. “What exactly are we looking for?”
“Two things,” she said softly. “Vulnerabilities and familiarity.”
He pulled a pad and pen out of his briefcase. “I’ll take notes.”
“Thanks.” That surprised her, though it shouldn’t have. Of course he would feel more comfortable doing something familiar, having a tool natural to him in his hand. “Working with Darcy has spoiled me,” Maggie said for no particular reason. “No notes necessary.”
“Guess I’m a poor substitute for someone with her memory skills.”
And just how did he know about Darcy’s special skills? Maggie didn’t ask but lifted a questioning brow.
“Colonel Drake explained her gifts.”
“In that case, aren’t we all poor substitutes for her?” Darcy remembered everything and associated values based on educated judgment and years of experience as a top-notch operative. That was hard to beat. But equally important to Maggie, she trusted Darcy. Still, not wanting a war with Justin, Maggie toned down her response. “So far, your assistance has been helpful,” she said, and meant it. “You have a calm manner, Justin. It went over well with the store owners.”
They turned the corner and he looked into the window at Macy’s. Giant red and gold shiny balls hung from green banners. “I’m really not the devil incarnate, Maggie.”
“I never said you were.” She stopped, looked down the length of the thoroughfare. Center Court’s stage and pit were to her right; specialty stores, to the left. She paused, mentally moving down the corridor and counting receptacles. “First on the list for Will is to have all the trash receptacles removed.”
Justin scrawled it down, his pen scratching on the page. “It’s going to get really messy in here.”
“No doubt it will, but trash cans are easy targets and impossible to protect, which means they have to go.” She walked on, sniffing intently.
After about three minutes, Justin’s curiosity got the better of him. “What are you doing?”
“Smelling. The mall is using aromatherapy to
influence shoppers’ buying tendencies and to create positive subliminal messages to shoppers about being in the facility,” she said, flipping a finger toward his notepad. “Add a cease-and-desist to Will’s list.” Fragrance easily masked biological contaminates. “Also, make a note that we need to address aromatherapy with the individual owners.” She waited, but he didn’t write anything. She lifted a questioning eyebrow.
“Both are already on the list,” he said matter-of-factly. “Picked up on them immediately, and noted them.”
“Really?” she asked, suitably impressed.
“The mall thoroughfares and corridors smell like Christmas pine, and nearly every store has its own specific scent—coffee, lemon, fresh air, and even salt water, though I won’t hazard a guess as to why.”
“Fishing,” Maggie said. “It’s huge here.”
“Ah, of course.” Justin nodded. “All are distinct, though some of the scents are subtle. Others are blatant.” He grunted. “I wonder how many times people come here and never notice that?”
“A lot, I imagine,” Maggie said. “Few outside the field think in terms of fragrance masking bio-contaminates.” She paused and checked the center rounds. About eight feet in diameter, they were raised beds, home to potted plants and huge palms. “All of these rounds need to be netted.” They formed a line down the center of the common areas throughout all three levels.
Justin blinked hard, scribbled that down. “I missed that, damn it. It’d be ridiculously easy to drop in a vial.”
They walked on, through Center Court. On the far end, near the escalator and stairs, the stage stood empty. The heavy red-velvet drapes were tied to its white-column sides with thick gold ropes. “We’ll need to blockade that space under the platform.” Anything could be hidden under it. She looked down the wide marble steps to the pit that would be filled with snow. About three feet deep, it was roughly the size of a basketball court.
A ruckus erupted just outside the Tot Shop. Will Stanton surfaced right in the middle of it, planting himself between two shouting men. “Just calm down,” Will said, his voice carrying over to Maggie.