“Put your belongings on the ground next to you. You will have no need of them.”
There is an instant outcry of protest, and I clutch my purse to my side as my heart pounds in indignation. But then, the door opens and when I look inside, my indignation turns to awe.
CHAPTER TEN
Jack rushed down the aisle at Walgreens, throwing hair dye, scissors, make-up, and some local maps into his basket. He jiggled his keys while the line moved at a snail’s pace. Why were there never enough cashiers? Biting his lip, he tried to stay cool as the elderly woman in front of him fumbled with a stack of coupons. At last, she was done. As she moved away, her foot caught on the rug, and she went tumbling. Jack lunged forward and caught her before she hit the ground.
“Oh my goodness. I don’t know what happened.”
The contents of her purse went flying. He collected them and handed her purse back. “Are you okay?”
“Thank you, dear. I am a little unsteady.”
“Let me help you to your car.” The blood pounded in his ears, but he maintained an air of calm. The poor woman looked like she was in pain. He was worried that she might not be well enough to drive. It took them ten minutes to walk to her car.
“Do you want me to call someone for you? Are you going to be okay driving?”
“I’m fine, dear. Have a sore hip, that’s all. Doctors keep trying to convince me to have it replaced, but I’m no fan of the knife.”
“Are you sure?”
She nodded. “Thanks. I’ll be okay. You’re a kind young man,” she said as she smiled at him. Before taking a seat behind the wheel, she leaned in and opened the center console. “I want you to have this.” It was a Saint Christopher medal on a chain.
He shook his head. “Thank you, but I couldn’t possibly take it.”
She pressed it into his hand. “I won’t take no for an answer. There aren’t too many like you, would stop and help an old lady. Please, he’ll look after you.” She put a hand on his and held his gaze. “Saint Christopher is on your side.”
He doubted that but he closed his hand around it anyway. Seeing the earnest look on her face, he said, “I could use a little help.” He gave her an impulsive hug and waited for her to drive away before running back to the store. The line was five-people deep again. He picked up his basket from the counter, and got back in line. No good deed goes unpunished, he thought.
When he was finally done, he threw his purchases on the passenger seat, put the medal in his jacket pocket, and pulled out his cell phone. Finding the contact, he pushed Send.
“Hello?”
“It’s Jack. I need you to leave Kyle’s truck unlocked with the keys in it. I have to borrow it for a while.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow night. I’ll text you when I’m close. Also, can you get your hands on some progesterone oil?”
“What?”
“It’s a long story. I need fifty milligrams of oil, enough for a couple of weeks. And needles too.”
“Is there something you want to tell me? Are you having some gender confusion?” She laughed.
“Very funny. It’s for a friend. Don’t ask.”
“I’ll see what I can do. And Jack?”
“Yeah?”
“Be careful.”
“Love ya, Sis.” He hung up and drove back to the motel. As he got out of the car, he looked toward their room and cursed. Their door was open. Jack broke into a run towards the room.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
US Senator Brody Hamilton watched from the bed as Rita Avery rose and hurried to the bathroom and the steaming shower. He admired the view as she walked away, the perfectly rounded buttocks with the creamy skin, unblemished except for the tiny scorpion tattoo on her left cheek. He knew she was eager to wash away his touch. He found it amusing—the lengths to which she was willing to sink to achieve her goals. He grudgingly admired her tenacity and determination to become the most admired and sought-after lobbyist in the business. Hamilton knew all about her shabby beginnings, her mother’s insistence that she attend an upscale school, blind to the fact that their trailer park existence made it impossible for Rita to fit in. Yes, he knew all that and more, but not from Rita—Brody never let anyone get close to him without having them thoroughly investigated. No one would have ever suspected she had grown up in poverty. She carried her Birkin bags like badges of honor—a different one for each season. Brody chuckled.
She came out of the bathroom in a beige Chanel suit, ready for their meeting, her Christian Louboutin alligator pumps clicking on the marble floor.
“Thanks for the tumble, darlin.” He liked rubbing it in her face. Hamilton snorted and his naked belly shook with his laughter.
She smiled tightly.
“I’ll go on ahead and meet you at the Blue Duck. Everyone will be there soon.”
He swung his legs over to the side of the bed where they barely reached the carpeted floor. Grabbing his robe, he put it on and stood. He was all business now.
“Go down the back stairs and out the side entrance.”
She nodded and left.
* * *
Hamilton was the last to arrive. Two other men on Rita’s team were seated at the table with her.
Rita pulled out a folder from her brown crocodile briefcase and laid it on the table.
“I want to talk about ingredient labeling. The health nuts are pumping out more propaganda about the vaccines. People are asking for ingredient lists. We want to make the lists unavailable.”
Hamilton raised his eyebrows. “Do you now? And why, pray tell, should I support a bill that would do that?”
“It should be proprietary. Keep other companies from copying our formulas.”
“Don’t people have a right to know what they’re putting in their bodies?” Hamilton asked. He didn’t give a whit about the people’s rights, only that the public believed he did.
Rita smiled. “Well, of course we’d label the main ingredients, especially those that are a potential allergen, like eggs. What we don’t want to have to specify are the metals included.”
Hamilton took a sip of his Johnny Walker Blue, licked his lips, and then took another long swallow. “Metals?”
“Aluminum, formaldehyde, mercury, silicon, polysorbate-80—they’ve been in there forever without hurting anyone, but people may opt-out if they see all the ingredients.”
“Can’t blame them,” Hamilton said. Let her work for it.
One of the men jumped in. “Look, these are preservatives and bonding agents that are necessary to make the vaccines shelf stable. Sometimes there is a small downside to accomplishing a greater good. We don’t want children not to receive lifesaving vaccines because their tree-hugging parents are freaking out over a few metals.”
Hamilton, his eyes mere slits, leaned in close and spoke so softly that everyone else had to lean in to hear him.
“Don’t give me that true believer crap. You don’t want to lose any money by people opting out, pure and simple. And you don’t want to invest any money into replacing those so-called bonding agents with something safer. Let’s not kid each other here.” He leaned back in his seat and looked at Rita.
Rita sat up straighter and looked at Hamilton with what he had come to recognize as her “let me stroke your ego so you don’t notice I’m full of crap” look. He indulged her.
“Thoughts, Miss Avery?”
“Well, Senator, I respect your devotion to your constituents and your desire to look out for their best interests. They are indeed lucky to have someone like you representing them. Now I respectfully point out that there is no proof that these metals are dangerous, and to try and replace them with something that is only presumed to be safer would cost the company millions in research, development and implementation. They would then have to pass those costs on to the consumer, thus making these vaccines unavailable to a large portion of the population who can’t afford them. Additionally, my c
ompany would have to cut back on the vaccines they donate to third world countries. So, in effect, instead of helping people by changing these bonding agents, we would be causing great harm to many children.”
Hamilton stroked his chin, pretending to digest this last bit of baloney. After a few more moments, he said, “Well, my dear, as my grandpappy would say, your tongue is more silver than a tree full of tinsel. How are you going to position this?”
“We’ll list the organic materials and then we will put a statement like, ‘Could include a combination of minerals all within U.S. defined safety standards.’”
Hamilton’s belly shook as he began to laugh. “Minerals. I love it. Honey, as my grandma used to say, you could sell ice to an Eskimo. I think I may have a solution that will suit all our needs.”
The three of them leaned forward like little birdies waiting for their mama to give them a worm.
“You know that my vaccine bill was unexpectedly scuttled and I have to go back to the drawing board and make some revisions before we submit it again. What say I add your little secret-ingredient list law to it? In the meantime, I need you to start lobbying my colleagues to support the bill. Wine and dine ’em. Tell ’em stories of dead babies who could have been saved if only they’d gotten the RSV treatment. I want a lot of people on it.”
Rita smiled. “Of course, Senator. Consider it done.”
Hamilton had been in Washington forever. The Senate’s long-time majority whip, he held a seat on the most important Congressional committees and had the ear of the President. His hillbilly colloquialisms belied a mind sharper than a grizzly’s claws. There was nothing he enjoyed more than the look of shock on the face of some poor fool who had fallen for the faux southern charm and failed to recognize the power he wielded—which is why he was furious that Phillips had scuttled the Vaccinate All Children Act. Did the fool really think he could stop them? What had gotten into Phillips anyway? One minute he had been completely on board, the next he’d killed the very bill he’d sponsored. Well, he’d gotten what he deserved.
Hamilton got up from the table without another word. On the way to his office, he pulled out his iPhone and opened the Twitter app.
No child should die of a preventable illness. Support the Vaccinate All Children Act #VACA
CHAPTER TWELVE
Damon’s phone flashed, and he saw the tweet from Brody Hamilton. Picking up the phone he dialed Catherine Knight.
“Good afternoon Mr. Crosse.” Her Texan accent was strong.
“I want you to put out stories on why the Vaccinate All Children Act is important. Find pictures, children who’ve suffered from RSV, parents who’ve lost children to it—flood all the outlets.”
“I’m on it.”
“I want print and broadcast too.”
“Done.”
He ended the call.
“Come, Peritas.” He held out a dog biscuit.
The Great Pyrenees accepted the treat and then nuzzled his hand.
“Good boy. Down.” The dog took his place next to his master’s feet just as there was a knock at the door. Peritas growled deep in his throat and sprang up.
“Down.” The dog obeyed immediately. “Come in.”
Jonas escorted a woman in and seated her.
“Evelyn, I appreciate your making the long drive.”
“Of course, sir. I know how important this is to you.”
He drummed his fingers on the mahogany desk. “You heard from her?”
“Yes. She called Warwick. She’s with Jack Logan. She told him that Malcolm had sent Jack to help her.”
Damon’s jaw clenched. How had he missed this?
“I’d have thought that Malcolm’s pride would have prevented him from going to Logan. Do you have any idea why he changed his vote at the last minute?” If anyone understood Malcolm’s psyche, it was Evelyn. Until she’d married Taylor’s father, Warwick, she’d lived on campus, and been his most valued psychologist; she could detect a vulnerability long before it became a liability. No one advanced in the programs here without her approval. Her consulting services still served Damon well.
“There can only be one reason, sir.”
“And that is?” He was losing patience now.
She pulled her phone out of her purse and laid it on his desk. “I cloned Warwick’s phone and recorded the conversation.”
Damon listened to the call with no change in expression until Taylor mentioned Jeremy. His fist came down hard on the table.
“Jeremy got to Malcolm?”
“It appears so, sir. Jeremy must be angry enough to try and sabotage your work.”
“That phone call led my men right to her. Logan left her alone. She will arrive shortly. For the sake of the baby, I want her to feel safe, especially after what she’s been through. That’s why I summoned you. She’ll feel less threatened if she sees you.” He stroked the dog’s massive white head as he spoke. The thick fur felt good on his hands, and he relaxed.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Taylor was gone. He saw the laptop sitting on the bed and grabbed it before he flew out of the room. He ran around to the side of the motel. She was being pulled into the back of a brown Dodge, a snarling Beau still on his leash, clutched in her hand.
“Stop!” He flew towards them.
Dropping the computer, he pulled out his SIG and aimed at the right front tire, shot, then did the same to the left.
The driver scrambled out of the car.
“What the—”
“Drop your weapon,” Jack yelled.
The man didn’t move.
Gun pointed at the man’s head, Jack spoke again. “Do it.”
The man reached in his pocket and slowly pulled his gun out and threw it to the ground.
“Kick it away from you.”
The man complied.
Jack bent forward to retrieve it, keeping the gun trained on the man, and his gaze level. “Now get back in the car and no one gets hurt.”
The man put his hands up and backed away.
Taylor’s face was white as she ran towards Jack.
“Grab the computer, and get in the car.”
They tore out of the parking lot as a black SUV rounded the corner and started gaining on them. Jack floored it, navigating around traffic like a race car driver, and sailed up on the ramp to the highway. His eyes darted to the rear-view mirror. The SUV was still behind them.
Jack jerked the wheel all the way to the left. The tires squealed as they did a 180 and headed in to incoming traffic. Horns blared as cars swerved to avoid colliding head-on with them.
“What are you doing?” Taylor screamed.
Jack expertly wove in and out of approaching traffic, swerved onto the shoulder, and turned the car around.
“Saving our lives!” he yelled above the din of screeching tires and screaming horns. In the rearview mirror, he watched as two cars collided trying to get out of the path of the SUV that was racing to catch up with them.
“Hold on.” He pushed the gas to the floor and changed lanes, clipping the back of the car next to him. They were on top of an overpass now. He had to get rid of them. He swerved again, until they were in the left-hand lane, against the low jersey wall. He slowed enough for the SUV to catch up. Taylor was ashen, gripping the sides of the seat. When the SUV was two cars back, he tapped the brakes a few times quickly. The car behind them slammed on his brakes, causing a chain reaction behind him. The SUV was sandwiched between a truck and a four-door sedan. Jack veered to the right again and sped up until the crash was no longer visible in the mirror.
“You okay?” He looked at Taylor.
She shook her head. “I’ll let you know when I can feel my face again. What was that? Where did you learn to drive like that?” Her voice was shaking.
“I took one of those evasive driving courses a few years back. Long story.”
“I guess you passed with flying colors.”
Afte
r another ten minutes of checking his rearview, Jack was satisfied that they were in the clear. “We should be in Boston in a couple hours. We’ll switch cars then keep going.”
He needed time to think. How had they found them so soon?
“Did that guy come to the door?”
“No. I was walking Beau, and he just pulled up and grabbed me.”
“I don’t understand how they knew where we were.”
Her hand flew to her mouth. “I think I know.”
“What?”
“I used my cell phone to call my father.”
He felt the blood rush to his face. “Oh, Taylor, I told you not to call anyone.”
“I had to let him know I was okay. Besides, we were using your computer; it didn’t occur to me that these people were that sophisticated.”
He took a deep breath. “I installed a VPN, a virtual private network. No one can track it. I didn’t know what we’d be dealing with so I took precautions. You need to take the SIM card out of your phone and give it to me.”
“Seriously?”
“Oh right.” He grinned. “I supposed you haven’t become any more tech savvy?”
“Ha-ha.”
He pulled off at the next exit, and removed the card from her phone, and threw it away while she used the bathroom. The last light was fading from the sky as they got back on the road.
“Just who are we up against?” Taylor asked, frustration in her voice.
“Were you able to find out anything more about the bill?” Jack asked.
“It looks pretty innocuous. It was just about adding RSV to the list of illnesses receiving federal assistance for vaccines—a good thing.”
“Tell me more about RSV.”
“Well, it’s a respiratory illness that preemies are especially vulnerable to. I have a friend who had twins and one of hers wound up in the hospital for a month. The treatment is expensive, and the preventive vaccine costs hundreds of dollars even after insurance.”
The Veritas Deception Page 4