Bannerman's Ghosts

by John R. Maxim

  Bourne pointed to two of the other containers. “There’s Winfield and Kruger. I forget which is where. These were sent by your friend, Martin Kessler.”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  “These three, between them, did everything I’m blamed for. These three and, of course, Chester Lilly. Revive him, if you can, and ask him this question. ‘Did Artemus Bourne have any knowledge whatever of some testing they’d been doing in Angola?’

  He stepped to Bobik’s head and rolled it over with his shoe. “See that carving on his forehead? It spells the name Sara. Ask Lilly whether I had any foreknowledge of that woman’s existence before this showed up here.”

  “I’m inclined to believe you,” said Bannerman.

  “Those four are your culprits, Mr. Bannerman, not I. Take their heads back to Westport. Mount them on pikes. Then turn your attention to your friend, Martin Kessler. He is the butcher, not I.”

  “Do you blame him?”

  “Not for these three beheadings. I don’t blame him in the slightest. I condemn his assumption that I am to blame. You are looking at an open declaration of war against a man who was totally ignorant of his grievance. So, what does one do in the face of such a threat? Does one escalate the violence or does one try to reason? But to reason, one needs to be holding some cards. I went after Stride. Wouldn’t you in my place? You’ve been doing the same thing for years.”

  “Taking hostages?”

  “No, you use your wandering ghosts. Shall I assume that they now guard my gates? I’d always thought they were a myth, a clever bluff on your part. They are said to be all over, always ready to strike, should anyone in authority be emboldened to attack you. In effect, you hold them hostage, do you not?”

  Waldo didn’t seem to be paying much attention. Not to Bourne or Bobik’s head or to the containers. He seemed to be more interested in the vault’s configuration. He was at a metal box, about two feet square, that had several instruments on it.

  He asked Bourne, “What’s this panel?”

  “Those are temperature controls. Which reminds me, these vaccines mustn’t thaw.”

  Waldo asked, “But why here? I mean, why not outside?”

  “How should I know?” said Bourne. “I didn’t design it.”

  He said to Bannerman, “These containers are starting to sweat. If you’re going to examine them, please do so quickly. This much temperature change isn’t good for them.”

  Waldo said to Bannerman, “This box is a dummy.”

  Bannerman looked up. “What else is it?”

  “I don’t know. One second.” Waldo felt around its edges. He found a release. The panel swung out. He told Bannerman, “It’s a safe. Not a Mosler, however. This one’s typical hardware store crap.”

  Bannerman said to Bourne, “Please open it for us.”

  “I don’t know the combination. Cecil Winfield installed it. I don’t even know what he kept in it.”

  “Why then were you trying to get us out of here just now?”

  “This looks easy,” said Waldo. “Five minutes.”

  FORTY TWO

  Aisha and Elizabeth had walked almost aimlessly, each of them lost in quite different emotions. They made two stops. One was at the helicopter. Howard Leland’s pilot was anxious to depart and, with luck, to resume the secretary’s flight schedule without his absence attracting too much notice. Elizabeth told the pilot that it shouldn’t be long now. She told the pilot that Nadia was dead. They’d be bringing her body back to Bridgeport.

  The pilot had asked her, “What about Bourne?”

  “Mr. Bourne will be staying,” she told him.

  The pilot had said, “Yeah, but…there’s staying and there’s staying.”

  “I’ll be seeing Mr. Bourne before we leave.”

  The other stop was at one of the Jeeps. Aisha had seen the dog in the back. It wasn’t moving and its mouth was hanging open. The man with the rifle said that she needn’t worry. He said, “Bring your hand to his nose. He can smell you.” She did and the dog did react, but just barely. It licked its lips once. It made the sound of a sigh.

  The man said to Elizabeth, “You won’t remember me, Miss Stride. Chamonix. Harry’s place. We only spoke once or twice.”

  “I wasn’t very sociable then.”

  He said, “Kessler made up for it. Glad to hear he’s alive. And I’m glad to see the girl not much worse for wear.” He lowered his voice. “Does Bourne still have his hands?”

  “I’ll be seeing him shortly,” said Elizabeth.

  Aisha had heard. She said, “Walk with me.”

  She’d already told Elizabeth that she’d known she was coming. She told her of her dream in which her mother had stayed with her. She’d told her in response to Elizabeth saying what a very brave girl she had been.

  “I was never awake long enough to be scared. I didn’t do anything brave.”

  She would miss Nadia. She would especially miss Jasmine. But her mother had promised to look after them. Jasmine had never met her mother before, but she noticed the resemblance right away. Only then did Jasmine realize that she might be dead. She was looking around. It was not what she’d expected. She’d said to Nadia, “We’re in deep shit.” But her mother calmed them both and told them to stay close.

  “They couldn’t see me, though. That’s the only sad thing. But my mother says they will after they’ve settled in. She’ll try to bring them the next time she comes.”

  Elizabeth listened. She was letting her talk. Aisha knew that she thought it was only a dream.

  Elizabeth might have said, “Aisha, honey, here’s what happened. You were drugged and you were floating in and out of being conscious. You heard them talking in the van. You heard one say he killed Jasmine. Later on, you heard them say that Nadia had died. You might not remember, but it stayed in your brain. That explains how they could show up dead in a dream that you were already having of your mother.”

  But Elizabeth didn’t say that. She said, “I’m glad you got to see them,” even though she didn’t believe it.

  Aisha had told her about the other two men. The blond one, Chester, called them Toomey and Kuntz. They were dead now. The blond one had killed them. This wasn’t exactly part of the dream, but she was pretty sure that it happened.

  Elizabeth might have said, “Same thing. You were drugged. You heard them climb out and you heard two loud noises. After that, there was only the one they called Chester. Your brain told you that those noises were shots. They were probably just dropped off somewhere.”

  But she didn’t say that either. She seemed to know better.

  Aisha had told her that her mother found Martin, or at least she knew that he was coming as well. And that he was thinking of her. And he was thinking of Elizabeth. And that he was coming from Africa.

  Elizabeth might have said, “You thought we were coming because you wanted us to come. You knew that we both would be worried about you.”

  She didn’t. Or she started to. She stopped walking. She said “Hold it.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Martin Kessler is coming and I knew that. How did you?”

  “I told you,” said Aisha. “My mom said so.”

  “Your mother told you that he was coming from Africa? The same woman who couldn’t find him for two years?”

  “Oh, wait. That was Artemus. The man in the bathrobe.”

  Elizabeth seemed relieved. Perhaps a little disappointed.

  Rats, thought Aisha. Now she’ll never believe it. But this wasn’t why she had wanted to keep walking after seeing that man in the Jeep.

  “Elizabeth,” she said, “I don’t want you to kill him.”

  Elizabeth looked away. She said nothing.

  “Nadia and Jasmine are okay. They really are. And if I’m wrong, which I’m not, that won’t bring them back.”

  “You’re enough of a reason,” said Elizabeth.

  “No, I’m a reason for you not to do it. I don’t want to think of you that way. An
d I watched Mr. Bannerman. Even he knew you shouldn’t.”

  “Aisha…Paul Bannerman has his own agenda. I don’t think that saving my soul made the list.”

  “Nobody’s talking about saving your soul. And nobody expects you to stop being you. Elizabeth, I know that you would kill to protect me. But you mustn’t kill just because I got a black eye. I need to know that about you.”

  “Aisha…honey…what do you want from me?” It was all that Elizabeth could think of to say .

  “I don’t want you to kill him, or cut him, or anything. I don’t want you to even go back in that house. I want us to go and wait for Martin to come and then I want us to go home.”

  “What, the three of us?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s a pretty thought, Aisha. But I won’t have a home. And Martin isn’t staying. I don’t think he wants to.”

  “Do you want him to stay?”

  “It’s not up to me.”

  “Oh, of course it is, Elizabeth. It was always up to you. And my mom, by the way, maybe didn’t mention Africa, but she did say that he’d been far away. Elizabeth, look at me. How did she know that?”

  “Aisha, I have no idea.”

  “She knew because you told her. Now did you, or not?”

  “No, of course not,” said Elizabeth. “How could I?”

  “She said you were dreaming. Did you dream of her, or not.”

  “Aisha, I had a whole jumble of dreams. About you, about Martin, all random, no context. In fact, you weren’t even you anymore. You were older, grown up, your hair was much longer…”

  “Don’t stop. Keep remembering. What did you say to me?”

  “That…Martin was coming.”

  “Did I ask you where he’d been?”

  “I said that he’d been…I didn’t say far away…I said that he’d gone as far from me as he could.”

  “And you say I was older? A little older than you?”

  “Aisha, you shouldn’t make too much of dreams.”

  “You were talking to my mother. Get used to it.”

  Bannerman had timed Waldo. It took him longer. Eight minutes. Bourne was forced to stand watching. He’d started perspiring. The freezer’s temperature had risen no higher than forty, yet Artemus Bourne was perspiring. Even so, Bourne had made no real effort to leave, as he would have if a trap had been rigged.

  Waldo was less certain. He proceeded with care. He listened when the last of the tumblers fell away for the sound of a switch being thrown. There was nothing. He opened the door no more than an inch. He used a penlight to look for connections that normally should not have belonged there.

  He said, “Think it’s clear.” He opened the door slowly. He was startled by an unexpected movement.

  “What is it?” asked Bannerman.

  “Some of this stuff looks alive.”

  Bannerman moved forward. He saw vials in racks. There were ten padded racks, four vials in each. All their contents were pinkish in color. The vials in each rack were wrapped with colored bands. The color for each rack was different.

  Most different of all was the nearest of the racks. It held not four vials, but three. The three that remained seemed almost excited, as if at the prospect of being released. Their contents were a powder so exquisitely fine that they almost seemed to have no substance at all. At the edges, the powder would erupt in small streams that seemed to be trying to reach the vial’s seal. The streams would cling for a moment and then they’d recede, leaving room for others to try. The colored band on those vials was yellow.

  Bannerman said to Bourne, “Tell me what these are, please.”

  “Never seen them before. Those are Winfield’s.”

  “They have yellow bands like the one on the freighter.”

  “I wouldn’t know. I had no part in that.”

  Bannerman asked him, “Why only three? Is one missing? Has one been sent elsewhere?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Not to Westport, by chance. No, of course. You wouldn’t know.” Bannerman said to Waldo, “Toss me one of those vials.”

  Waldo reached; he removed one; he turned to face Bannerman; he started an underhand toss.

  “No, no,” shouted Bourne. “I mean…not knowing what’s in them…”

  Bannerman turned to Molly. “Have you finished with Nadia?”

  “Best I could. She’s ready when we are.”

  Bannerman said to Billy, “Will you lift her off that cot? Bring Mr. Bourne with you. Put him on that cot. And see that he’s strapped down securely.”

  “About time.”

  “Just a moment,’ said Bourne. “You will do no such thing.”

  “I’ll be with you, Mr. Bourne, in a very few minutes. I need to make a phone call. Excuse me.”

  He’d asked Molly to come with him while he made his call. He said, “Molly, I know that this is driving you crazy.”

  “It was, but you were right. You and John could have done it. John and I have had this discussion.”

  “And?”

  “I’m not being so professional. And I’m a woman. I don’t react well to men who hurt women. Left to me or Elizabeth, Bourne would have been dead long before he opened that vault.”

  “Yes, I know that.”

  “You’re still calling it, Paul, but when this over…Never mind. This isn’t the time.”

  “Molly, if you’re saying that you want someone else…”

  She squinted. “What?”

  “Then you’ll have it,” he told her. “I’ll step down in a heartbeat.”

  She seemed shocked. “Are you nuts? You think that’s what I want? If anyone is going to step down, it will be me.”

  “Um…help me with a reason. Because you let this thing get to you?”

  “No, because I’ve got to get some kind of a life. Everybody seems to have one but me.”

  He asked, “Is that it? That’s why you’ve been…”

  “A nag.”

  “Asking questions isn’t nagging. Impatience isn’t nagging. Molly, how can I help you? Name anything.”

  “Not now.”

  “Then starting tomorrow, we’ll make it a project. We’ll make this priority one.”

  “A project? Don’t you dare. You’ll do what? Call a meeting?”

  He said, “Well, no. That’s not exactly…”

  “A group conference on how to get Molly laid? Don’t you know a damned thing about women?”

  “Revelations…occasionally come out of the blue.”

  “Make your call.”

  “Stay with me.”

  “Make your call.”

  He had reached Greta Kirch at the number she’d given him. A cell phone. She was probably at home. He had placed the call from the wine cellar proper where Bourne’s struggles, howls of outrage, would not be a distraction. He told her of the drugs that were en route to the freighter. He read to her from the slip on which Bourne had written. She asked him to repeat it, more slowly.

  She understood. She said, “Yes. We are testing something like it. That drug is cidofovir, but substantially improved. The lipids are fats. You need fats for a pill. Otherwise it must be taken intravenously.”

  “Will it work?”

  “It should. It works by preventing replication of the virus if taken before the first symptoms appear. Once the symptoms are pronounced, there is no hope.”

  “It will have been four days. Will that be soon enough?”

  “This begins to get close, but most likely. Also tell them to drink all the water they can. That drug is not so good for the kidneys.”

  “Will the Red Cross know that?”

  “Assuredly, yes.”

  “Then let’s leave that to them. I won’t burden you by telling you where I am, or my intentions, but I do want to tell you what I’ve found.”

  He described what he’d discovered in Bourne’s freezer and his safe. He described the dancing powder in detail.

  She said, “Same as the ship. It must be Marbu
rg with smallpox. And I am no fool. You are with Bourne at his home?”

  “I will ask you to keep that thought to yourself until…”

  “I cannot. This man keeps a private supply? And of chimeras? Many? And he keeps them at his home? I have told you of the need for bio-containment. An accident would be catastrophic.”

  “How quickly would it spread it if were released?”

  “How quickly? With the speed of the wind.”

  “And if there were no wind. No movement of air?”

  “The speed of…I don’t know…tobacco smoke, perhaps. The speed at which it rises from an ashtray.”

  “And the symptoms?” asked Bannerman. “Please describe them in detail.”

  “Mr. Bannerman…with respect, I must terminate this discussion. I must notify the authorities at once.”

  “Which authorities?”

  “The FBI, the CDC and of course the military.”

  “Well, they can arrive and find Briarwood in flames, or you can give me one hour’s grace and you’ll find it all here for the taking.”

  “All of it? You’ll keep none of it?”

  “Not a molecule. I promise. Nor will there be a need for extraordinary measures. Just walk down to his basement and start gathering.”

  “His vault is open?”

  “We’ll close it,” said Bannerman, “but it won’t be locked. It’s also a freezer. Must it not be kept cold?”

  “Absolutely, The colder, the safer.”

  “Now describe the symptoms, beginning to end.”

  She did. He listened. He thanked her.

  He asked, “Will you accompany the authorities you send?”

  “If permitted. It is not up to me.”

  He said, “I want you to come. I want you to coordinate. Tell them that I said, without you, the house burns.”

  She was silent for a moment. “Sir, why do you do this?”

  “I will tell you, Doctor Kirch, but later,” said Bannerman. “I will call you in an hour at the most.”

  He broke the connection. Molly Farrell had heard most of it. She said to him, “No movement of air?”

  “Let’s wrap up here.”

  She said, “I think I see what you have in mind. And now you’re going to say you need to do this alone. Are you trying to get yourself killed?”