by C. Martens
“Flynn said there was another plague, Bull. He told me. I don’t think I mentioned it to you, Bull. I don’t think I told you. There’s another plague, Bull.”
Bull backed away, his hand extended with the palm toward Ann, a gesture meant to convey that she should stay where she was.
“I’ll be back, Ann. We have to draw some blood.”
He closed the door and locked it as he backed out of the room.
Chapter 7
The harbor, crowded as usual, stacked ships in queues awaiting their turn at the docks. Using his charisma on the captain over the last week, the new hand, AKA Andy McGee, manipulated his way off the time-worn container ship. There was little use for him in docking anyway, and once the ship was positioned and lines made fast, the crew would be released to the charms of the city. Most would never get past the harbor bars and brothels. Other than a strong drink and a warm moment, they had little interest in the Port of Los Angeles.
A small boat pulled up below the bow. Rather than lowering the gangway stairs, Andy threw a knotted line over the side and descended quickly, his light bag across his back. His girlfriend, seen as often as possible in the long distance relationship, would be waiting at the landing. Andy could not wait to see her, to hold her. He wondered if his new circumstances, time to spend with her, would change her feelings. There was also the likelihood that they would face danger. She would be carrying a loaded weapon for him, and she had already packed her bags. They would not be going back to her apartment. It was officially abandoned.
Standing on the dock, framed by Andy’s truck behind her, Chloe waved like a wild woman. She bounced up and down with the enthusiasm of a free spirit. It was one of the things that had attracted Andy to her when they met. She was unencumbered by any worries of what others thought of her. She was genuine.
One of Andy’s close friends had asked him once, “Do you ever get tired of the Chloeisms?” Andy knew what he meant. The unrestrained feminine enthusiasms sometimes embarrassed even him. He learned early on in their lengthy relationship that he had a choice - try to damp down the exuberance of her personality or embrace the differences in how they reacted to the world. Andy valued Chloe the way she was, for what had attracted him in their first moments, especially her effervescence.
Embracing passionately, they greeted each other. That was the other reason that Andy was immediately attracted. When Chloe kissed him, she used her whole body.
The two made an attractive couple. Andy, at six feet even, was tall enough to tuck Chloe’s five foot four under his arm. The security man’s dark blonde hair and piercing blue eyes were eclipsed by the strawberry blonde and chameleon green eyes of his sweetheart. Her light freckles capped her attractiveness like whipped cream on a warm berry pie.
It was time for business, though. Expecting retribution from his former employers, Andy knew the truck would become the focus of a probe. He kept it in a locked storage facility while away, but considering the resources of the Royal Family, he electronically scanned the immediate area surrounding the truck for devices. The search was rewarded. He found the tracker attached inside the rear bumper. Now, he thought, what to do about it…
There was some traffic around the dock. Another pick-up, a delivery vehicle being unloaded, sat a short distance away giving Andy an idea. He detached the electronic spy as Chloe watched with eyes wide, and ambled casually down the quay. Seeming to pass by the other truck, he quickly bent down and inserted the unit underneath while the driver was walking away from his rig, arms full. Maintaining the façade of nonchalance, Andy passed by and entered the convenience store accepting the deliveries. He returned with two cold sodas almost immediately. It was time to make tracks.
Within fifteen minutes of them leaving the harbor, a dark sedan that had been delayed by road construction found the delivery truck speeding down the freeway toward the next delivery location. The occupants, three hired thugs, knew immediately that the tracker had been displaced, and they were being led astray. They made contact with their boss and communicated the situation, received instructions, and followed the truck until it stopped. Then they retrieved the device and returned. Until they received further instructions, they were out of the loop. For now, the predators would have to be patient.
Andy felt at ease back in Los Angeles. The conversation, updating him on anything in Chloe’s life of importance, and the comfortable bulk of the big truck embraced him with familiarity. He would get in touch with Jimmy soon but for the moment was more concerned with hiding his trail. He used an expensive dealer option and an even more expensive aftermarket add-on that was highly illegal. Twisting two hidden dials, he changed the truck’s color to a lighter shade and electronically switched the license plates as they passed through a back alley. That was all he could do for the present. Changing the shell on the back might be a good idea but would have to wait. His main concern was his arm, now, and his other implant. He did not trust that the Arabs had left them completely untouched. A man he knew close by would check them out. If Andy paid him enough, he might even keep Andy’s location to himself. The stash of cash and the alternate identities and bank cards that Chloe had brought with the truck were going to come in handy.
Soon the truck entered an upscale residential community. Accessed by a code number changed hourly, the security gate opened. The truck slowed as the auto-drive kicked in. There would be no speeding on these streets. Almost immediately Andy pulled the truck into a community center parking area. He would walk from here.
“Okay, Chloe, drive out of here and down to that Thai restaurant on the corner we passed. I shouldn’t be long. I’ll call and tell you what to order when I’m walking back. You did get that burner phone in the fake account, right?”
“Of course, babe.” Chloe handed a slip of paper to Andy.
He glanced down. The phone number etched itself into his memory.
“Okay, I’ve got it. I’ll call soon.” He crumpled the paper and placed it in the truck’s compacter throat. “Remember, it’ll be a new number, so answer it.”
Lumbering out of the parking lot, the truck disappeared around the corner. Andy waited until it did before he was comfortable moving toward his goal. There was no reason to compromise either Chloe or his clandestine associate with any knowledge of the direction he took.
As the pleasant neighborhood unfolded beneath his feet, Andy drew a relaxed breath. Getting some physical activity felt good, and it was even good to be out of a job. He enjoyed the activities of the attractive surroundings - new vehicles as they hummed past with garage doors opening automatically for them, the mechanical gardeners mowing or tilling the flower beds, the delivery drone whizzing over his head with its small cargo. Andy even saw a couple of kids on bikes with a parent trailing them. He was happy to see that the security measures were working.
The check on his appliances took less time than Andy expected. The man was a genius in all things tech. He not only investigated for bugs, recorders, and even lethal additions, he also changed the communication capabilities so that Andy could use the devices without being recognized or traced. Andy paid him well and was happy to do so.
The Pad Thai was delicious.
§
The FBI office hummed with an unusual intensity. After it was discovered that the personnel were exposed to an unknown disease, a plague intended to kill them and be spread around the world, the CDC and the FBI combined in their resolve to deal with the problem. Government agencies rarely worked well together, but with the added reinforcement of the infection being present within the office, the employees got serious.
The source of contagion was confirmed to be Ann Callagory. She had met a flight in order to transfer a prisoner to another agency’s care. The prisoner and she, and another agent from the San Diego office, had waited in a secluded area until the prisoner was transferred into the control of military personnel. Somewhere along the line they had each picked up a bottle of water from a kiosk. The kiosk was now shut down and cust
omers being traced. The prisoner and the people that picked him up, as well as any that had come in contact with them, were confined. Similarly, the San Diego agent and his contacts were in quarantine. Of the three hundred eighteen people working in the building during the time that Ann was out sick and since returning, forty-two tested positive. They were now living in the FBI offices, sleeping on portable cots and isolated from everyone else, contained in a section that was cordoned off. All of them were over their illness quickly and remained symptom free. Civilian visitors were being traced and contained as necessary. The lab in the basement had more victims than the upper floors. Ann had spent more time there than anywhere except her personal office. The receptionist was identified as infected, as well as her boyfriend who was quarantined in a CDC facility. The muscular head scientist and most of his team were in quarantine. Only two of the lab techs tested negative and were given mandatory vacation. So the lab became a containment area.
Everyone within the building had a high level of confidence for success and was working on some facet of the problem. The CDC assured everyone involved that the situation was under control and that the gene sequencing would lead to a cure soon. The old days were over, and the speeds of disease-inhibiting agents being cultivated were exponentially accelerated. Even the testing processes would be done in house and under the purview of a combined team of CDC and FDA scientists. There seemed to be little to worry about. They were in time.
Feeling the slight vibration behind his ear, Jimmy Flynn touched his implanted communicator. He was beginning to feel uncomfortable, maybe a case of cabin fever, during his isolation in quarantine. His cold had been slight, not more than a runny nose and fevered eyes, and had passed in two days. But the powers that be had diagnosed him as containing the plague. So even though he felt great, they insisted that he stay in house until a treatment surfaced. The call from Andy was a welcome break from the routine.
He did not recognize the number and thought it strange because it came in on his personal line.
“Flynn, here. Who am I speaking to?” He knew he sounded grumpy.
Andy was not put off at all. “Hey, Cowboy, you sound like you could use a laugh.”
“Gawd, buddy, it’s about time you got in touch.” Recognizing the voice, Jim felt some welcome relief. He had questions. Andy using his nickname from his old stomping grounds in South Dakota made him smile. He wondered if he would ever get back to play Texas Hold’um at The 10.
“Yeah, yeah…I know I’ve been out of the loop, but that’s what you get when there are people after your skin. You know that. I found a bug on my truck, and I had to put some distance between me and them. So… you got the package?”
Jimmy related the pertinent details of the arrival and testing, knowing that it would go no further. Then…“You were right about two plagues, Andy. We’d just gotten the results back on the one you sent us when we found someone infected with the other one, right here in the office. Christ, Buddy, it was my boss.”
Andy hesitated on the other end as he took it in. “You okay, Cowboy?”
“Ohhh, not so good, really. I’ve got it. It didn’t hit hard, and I feel just fine, but I tested positive. Me and a few dozen others. They say I’m still contagious. Apparently that’s part of how it’s planned to work. You stay contagious. But they also say they have a handle on a cure.”
Silence on the other end. Jim let Andy think.
“Crap, Jimmy, I’m sorry. Really… What can I do? Do you need anything?”
“Sure, a fifth of good Irish whiskey and a date with North West. Can you fix that up for me?”
They both laughed. Jim thought Andy laughed a little too hard.
“Listen, Andy, seriously, there’s something you can do for me. I need to ask you some questions.”
“Go for it, friend. I’m giving you my full attention, and I have nowhere I need to be. What’s up?”
The two friends spoke for the next forty minutes. The time spent was serious. It could be nothing else.
§
Now that the initial anger had passed, Ann was contending with guilt. Intellectually, she knew there was no fault on her part, but passing a terminal disease to people she worked with, more importantly cared for, was difficult to get past. The CDC had contracted for some counseling, but of the three people she had met, two were idiots that could not see past their own agenda. The other seemed to empathize, but the FBI woman still lacked trust in the whole psychobabble process. Keeping busy was her way of coping. The counseling only made it worse, so in the short term she was avoiding it as much as she could.
When infected civilians started showing up, she volunteered to go under cover in order to gather information. But still, that did not keep her busy enough, so during daylight hours she disappeared from the civilian containment area.
Her particular area of expertise, finding people, was in demand. Although Ann would have enjoyed being in motion, she was very effective at tracking people by their electronic trails. So far, the office seemed to be ahead of the local infection.
Some disturbing news from other areas around the world was beginning to show up, however, particularly in undeveloped locales where tourism was significant. Presently both diseases were running neck and neck in their frequency, with pockets of one or the other that seemed to dominate. That was to be expected according to the models and charts the CDC was supplying.
What was scary was that the larger cities had more control over the infection rate than the rural communities. There were already two small agricultural areas in the United States that were under complete isolation orders. Newell, South Dakota, and Decatur, Arkansas, had been shut down with people confined to their homes. Scarier yet, the sentries were made up of National Guard troops that had tested positive, and they were surrounded by an outer cordon with orders to shoot to kill.
Still, everyone was encouraged by successes. Los Angeles was not the only area that was winning. San Diego, working in concert with the Los Angeles office, was pulling ahead. Portland and Seattle were containing the rate of spread, although the numbers were not declining yet. Salt Lake City was a bright spot with what seemed to be full containment, and Denver was close behind. Moving east, the numbers were proportional with the west. Canada was having similar success, as well as failure.
Considering all of this information as it came in, Ann was determined to contribute. Soon there would be a vaccine, pill, or other form of treatment. She believed that. They just had to stay ahead.
§
The War Room was being utilized every minute of the day. The White House had been under full lockdown so many times in the recent past that this threat was not even considered unusual. Strategists mulled over the details and wrote reports to be passed up to people who had little time to read them. Communication lines were established with scientists at all the pharmaceutical companies and their ancillary supports. While there was an odor of urgency that permeated the activities, there was also an air of confidence.
There were priorities that had to be put aside for the moment. The upcoming Mars Mission, so expensive and so imminent, was put on hold. Some of the technologies of that mission were utilized within the closed environment of the White House. Synthetic steak was easy to grow in the basement laboratories, and people were already tired of the artificial food and of being cooped up. Many of the people involved with the mission were now isolated inside the containment perimeter, and they were able to envision how the astronauts would feel on their long journey. They erroneously discussed that the mission might become a priority. If the plagues got the upper hand, the thirty two people on board would possibly be the best hope for humanity. Those in the know, however, had the numbers on a worst case scenario. There would be survivors in numbers large enough to repopulate and maintain a society. Still, the possibility of a doomsday scenario was discussed, and female members of the space contingent were allowed priority positions on one of the pending crew lists.
An overly intelligent
systems analyst on the night shift was the first to notice an anomaly in the plagues. He took the numbers that he had been working with in his spare time to break the boredom to a friend, another overly bright geek. They argued about the computations, the method of acquiring the data, and the results for three days before they approached their supervisor. The supervisor liked to think he hated these young kids because of their digital tattoos and their grotesque appearance due to the current self-mutilation fad, but he really hated them because he feared that they were smarter than him. He listened impatiently to the two kids, thinking more about how they were overly excited than about what they were saying and eventually told them to write it up and submit it for review. That should kill their enthusiasm was his last thought about their findings as they left his cubicle, and he went back to the mundane tasks he was assigned. But the two young men were charged up now.
Feeding off of each other’s energy, they did something an older and wiser employee would never have considered. They bypassed the chain of command. It was easy to access anyone they wished. The lunchroom was used by everyone. A man and woman sitting at a table to the side of the entry, against the far wall from the cafeteria-style counter, became the target of their attentions. That area of the common room was used by the elite and powerful, and the two young men had to make an effort to cross the invisible line that drew the boundary. Both carried unbound papers in quantities that were difficult to control. Just as they made to sit uninvited at the table, one dropped several. The other managed to get the words out that held the attention of the two senior heads of department.
“We think there’s a third plague.”
Chapter 8
Within a week the Danites were comfortable with the results of their investigation. Information they received verified there was a true threat, but they had not waited that long to act. Immediately on hearing Orem’s findings and speculations, they had implemented a procedure intended to protect the Salt Lake Valley as much as possible without calling attention to their methods. Using strategies cultivated to supply information to The Church without identifying the source, they stayed hidden from their own religious leaders. The Church, through the state government, had algorithms for finding people, depending on what kind of criteria they used in their search.