He pointed the vehicle south, floored the gas pedal, and smoked the asphalt with a sixty-foot smear of rubber.
Monday, November 19, 2001, 6:45 A.M. EST
Park Medical Building, Manhattan
Boris threw the photos down on Yuri’s desk. “He turned up at Seneca last night, presumably to find out what you have been doing there. Know him?”
Yuri’s chest felt like a toothpaste tube squeezed until empty. “Of course I know him. Terry Ryder! He’s the bioweapons expert for the Department of Defense. Is this about anthrax--”
“He broke into the lab, spent an hour there, then left.”
Now Yuri’s chest felt like an empty toothpaste tube being squeezed for a last bit more. “But if anybody’s clever enough to see through a lie, it’s Terry Ryder--”
“Relax!”
Yuri stiffened. Nothing tensed him up more than being told to relax. People used the word to put him on edge. “You don’t understand--”
“I said, relax. It is not about anthrax. And if he knew anything at all, every one of us would already be in jail.”
“So why’d he go there?”
“His people watch you, the same way they watch me. That means, for now, we shut down the operation.”
Yuri felt the tightness release. “You mean we stop? It’s over?”
“Oh, no, Yuri. It is never over, even if we try to quit.”
“But--”
“Did I mention what our clients are capable of doing to make us play along?”
Three weeks later, Wednesday, December 19, 2001, 5:05 P.M. IPT
Makaha Beach, Northwest of Waianae Mountain Range, Oahu
Wearing fins and mask, Terry Ryder plunged into the curling base of a ten-foot wave and propelled himself under its surge, surfacing far enough out from shore to be past the break line. He continued to swim away from the churning surf, settling into an easy rhythm, his powerful stroke enhancing the sense of speed as his body sliced through the gentle rise of the swells, then accelerated down their backs.
He set course for a spot he knew well a few hundred yards from the beach, the repetitive motion of his legs and arms relaxing him to his core.
He arrived at the place, and waited.
Soon a silver flash twice his length sped under him, more light than form in the deep blue water. In its wake he felt the enormous strength of its body.
An instant later a half dozen others joined the first, and he was surrounded by swirling, playful bottlenose dolphins, creatures named for their tapered snouts.
One broke surface, and they eyed each other in Terry’s natural medium of air.
It bowed its glistening gray head and spooned water at him with its long nose, inviting him to dive down to its natural world.
Terry took a breath and, weighted with a lead belt for neutral buoyancy, descended twenty feet headfirst, body straight as a blade, with minimal effort.
His playmates followed, whirling around him like a live merry-go-round, shrouding him in a whirlpool of bubbles, their current beginning to spin him in circles as if he were caught in a tornado.
He started to laugh, making bubbles of his own, and enjoyed the ride. He’d trained himself to be comfortable for up to three minutes at a time in a single submersion. Free diving they called it. Was it ever. He never used tanks anymore if he could help it. Just did it like his friends here.
The rotations slowed, and he saw them looking at him, as if concerned he might stay down too long.
Of course that was his attributing these magnificent animals with human traits, and the scientific half of his brain dismissed that as nonsense.
Except they seemed so amazingly empathic.
Not to worry them, he kicked for the surface.
Once more they started to frolic, splashing around him, rolling on their backs like big puppy dogs and letting him rub their tummies.
The image of fangs leaping out of a dark forest broke the mood.
Immediately the dolphins shot away, as if even remembered fear were a warning signal that they could sense.
He swam back to shore filled with a vague yearning, almost envy for the mix of freedom and companionship that those creatures took for granted. They enjoyed it as their due--a matter of course. Didn’t complicate it all up. A lot wiser than most humans, he thought.
When he reached the beach and retrieved a gym bag of towels, his cell phone was ringing.
“Terry, it’s me,” that familiar, coarse voice said. “I’ve got good news for a change.”
“Uh, General, it’s not a secure line--”
“Forget it. I’m calling to report a negative, so there’s nothing to keep secret.” His words slurred a little. He must be in a great mood. Unlike most people, that was the only time he ever allowed himself more than one drink. The man never touched alcohol at all when he was miserable.
“If you say so, General.”
“You’re to be congratulated, son.”
“Pardon.”
“Whatever Bori and Yuri were up to, you shut them down. Bori and Yuri! Hell, it sounds like some damn puppet show, doesn’t it?”
“What about Bori and Yuri?”
“On thing’s for certain. Yuri Raskin has definitely changed his habits,” the general continued. “He’s become a regular homebody, staying put in Manhattan, going to work, visiting his ex-wife and kid. No more trips to Watertown and Carol McIsaac, nor to any other women at pharmaceutical labs. He’s become so routine, even the Federal Bureau of Incompetence can keep track of him. The only other female he continues to see a lot of is Tania Yurskovitch, but just in his office. So your visit to Seneca Pharmaceuticals definitely made him pull in his horns.”
Terry had half expected as much. “What about the other labs? Did they have that program to visualize molecules.”
“You were right about that. But they rated it more as a novelty, something to impress their clients. Even staff at the mother ship in Alberta where they developed the thing admitted that its current applications are pretty limited.”
Bori didn’t sound like the kind of businessman whose clients would be impressed by a novelty. “So why would an arms dealer be interested? Nothing else in the place would have been useful to him.”
“Beats me. But if Yuri did steal anything from them, they don’t know it’s gone.”
“Carol McIsaac doesn’t know that I was in the place, so that’s not very reassuring.”
“Well, Yuri’s out of business, whatever he was up to, and Bori seems to be lying low as well. Of course we’ll still keep an eye on them.”
Of course.
“So Merry Christmas, Ryder. I just thought you deserved to know there’s one less problem in the world for you to worry about.”
“Maybe,” Terry said. His sense of foreboding always grew strongest when people reassured him things were better.
“And by the way, every one of those dames wanted to know when Yuri would be coming back. The guy must be a real lady pleaser.”
Terry thought of Anna.
Not all ladies.
Chapter 8
Three months later, Thursday, March 7, 2002, 4:35 P.M. IPT
Kailua Beach, Oahu, Hawaii
Dr. Anna Katasova pulled up from her run along the ocean’s edge and flopped to the ground. Daily workouts from age eight had left her with a lean body that craved she drive it to the edge of its endurance as much as it demanded oxygen.
She closed her eyes, leaned back on a small bank of sand that high tide had carved from the beach, and luxuriated in the heat.
Like a cat on a sill, Yuri had once described her love of the sun.
Its warmth seeped into her face, cast a yellow hue that penetrated the blackness behind her lids, even pierced the dark core of her Russian soul, an entity bred to endure a landscape of gloom, ice, and fear. Life was good again. Her nightmares about Yuri during the anthrax scare had proved baseless, no FBI came to her door, and the letter attacks stopped. She loathed having allowed herself to regres
s into that frightened Anna Katasova she’d left behind in Sverdlovsk, escaping her homeland in spirit as well as body, never to be snatched back.
Her talks to the medical faculty had gone well. Upsurge of Emergent Diseases in Asia, read the program. Despite the dryness of the title, doctors, residents, and students were on the edge of their seats. “Imagine you face the appearance of a lethal mystery syndrome,” she began her presentation. “Patients appear in your ERs and quickly die, all apparently suffering from the same infection, but your pathologists can’t identify the agent.” Then, with all the suspense and horror of a well-told thriller, she proceeded to describe how microbes could jump the species barrier and move from infecting animals to killing humans. Her audience expressed their appreciation by thronging around the podium when she’d finished and peppering her with eager questions. If the moderator hadn’t intervened, she’d be there still.
A shadow crossed the dark haze behind her eyes.
“Is that you, Ryder?” she said, not bothering to look, but the pit of her stomach tightened.
“At your service, Anna. You were a star today.”
“I saw you in the crowd. Figured it was a prelude to a visit. You got your boss with you?”
“No.”
She opened her eyelids and peered through them the way she would stare down a gun sight. His tall frame looked as skinny as she remembered, maybe even a few pounds lighter, although his muscular build filled out the cream-colored sports jacket and charcoal dress shirt, open at the neck, that he wore. His tanned face had acquired a few more creases and appeared a little thinner under his curly black hair. What shocked her were his eyes. Normally as bright as sapphires, they barely qualified as washed-out-denim set in circles as dark as bruises. He’d obviously been losing sleep about something. But with his steady gaze and six-foot stature, he still possessed the aura of a person used to taking charge, the kind of guy people instinctively looked to in a tight spot. As usual he had a computer bag slung over his shoulder. He kept that damn thing at his side as if it were the proverbial black box to launch World War III. “You’re all dressed up. Got a hot dinner date?” she said.
“Would you go if I asked?”
“I’d rather eat with Jabba the Hutt.” She got to her feet, and caught the glance he gave her legs as she brushed the sand off them. His interest left her cold. “How did you find me?”
“From the organizers of the conference--”
“No you didn’t. They had my telephone numbers, not the condo address. Kyra’s here--” She stopped herself, in no mood to discuss family matters with Terry Ryder. She’d arranged the condominium herself at the last minute to accommodate having had to bring Kyra along. Yuri had refused to mind her, even tried to persuade Anna to cancel her China trip, then taken off again, probably on one of his screw-a-thons. What a time to stop his stay-at-home streak.
“Kyra’s here?” Ryder’s face brightened. “Where?”
“Off with her nanny seeing dolphins. Now, listen--”
“I could take her swimming with bottlenose dolphins. She must be what, six? And going to be tall, I bet, like her mother.”
Anna went up on her toes. “Just don’t, Terry. I know the psych-op’s routine. Get a parent talking about his or her child, and you’re in, right? Well forget it. Now please leave. Whatever you want, I’m not interested and don’t appreciate you or the general’s friends tracking me--”
“I need your help, Anna, about a situation in China. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here. Neither would you.”
That tore it. She arched her back, and stepped up to within inches of his chest. “My help? The days of me helping you are over, you son of a bitch.”
He didn’t respond. Just stared at her with that smoky gaze of his that suggested so much yet gave away nothing.
It made her even more furious. “And what do you mean, ‘Neiszer would you’?” Blowing her th instantly warned her to control her temper. “Are you saying what I think you are?” she asked, pointedly correcting the error.
He shrugged. “I suggested, and the university jumped at the idea of inviting you. Believe me, you’re not a hard sell. And since you already had the engagement in China--”
“You fixed that as well?”
“Of course not.”
She went an inch higher on her toes. “Get out of my sight.”
“Please, Anna, I didn’t mean to pull an ambush, but--”
She pirouetted away from him and strode across the sand toward a thick border of fleshy vegetation that ringed her rented house. Kyra had already spent several happy hours chasing the small lizards, or geckos, that lived there. Anna pictured setting the lot of them on Ryder as he followed close on her heels.
“A Chinese doctor, one of my former students, got word to me about a cluster of bizarre pneumonia cases. They’re near the southern city of Guangzhou in Guangdong province.” He spoke softly, but his urgency carried above the sound of surf as if his mouth were at her ear. “She says the local health authorities are covering them up.”
Despite her being furious at him, those particular words set off alarm bells in her head. The region he mentioned had long been overpopulated with humans and animals living cheek-by-jowl, their excrement infesting the local water tables, the land a soup of contaminated mud. Epidemiologists called it the Bermuda Triangle for emergent diseases, which was why her China trip included a visit there. So if ever there were a combination of buzzwords to push her buttons, “bizarre pneumonias, Guangdong province, and cover-up” would top the list. But then he’d know that, the bastard. “Yeah, right, Terry,” she said, never breaking stride.
“Her name’s Wey Chen. She’s twenty-seven, her husband’s in jail for crimes against the state, which means he spoke out against the jailing of dissidents, and she’s raising an infant daughter on her own. Scared, alone, and in a state where whistle-blowers can get a bullet to the back of the head--sound familiar?”
She wheeled about to face him. “You louse. This is all about more spook stuff.”
“No! No spook stuff, I promise--”
“Damn it, Terry, wasn’t once enough for you? Whatever it is you want, I won’t do it, you hear? Not now, not ever. Or would you and the general still rather that I be dead.” She’d gotten all her ths right with a vengeance.
He stiffened. “The general’s got absolutely no involvement with this. I’m here because, in her message, Wey Chen mentioned your pending visit to Guangdong province, having seen it listed in the CDC bulletin. She asked if I’d ever heard of you, and if so, were you trustworthy.”
“She’s asking you if I’m trustworthy? That’s a laugh and a half.” Some remote region of her brain vaguely registered that a New York street idiom had just flown out of her mouth. They always did when she got mad. After a decade in the US, they'd become her vocabulary of combat. “Do you have her address? I’ll set her straight that you’re the one she should worry about being trustworthy. And why would she even think you knew me?”
Terry grinned. “Maybe she just assumed that I moved in the same elite circles as someone with your high international stature. Call it misplaced student worship, attributing an undeserved level of fame to a former professor.”
“Very funny.”
The smile vanished. “There’s a less amusing scenario. Chinese intelligence might have been sophisticated enough to find out that you and I worked together as agents. Her masters could even have ordered that she write the letter, counting on me to pass on a heads-up that would tweak your interest. That way you’d be more likely to take the bait when she approached you--”
“Whoa, Ryder, there you go again, paranoia plus--”
“Oh, really? She seems to be testing the waters to arrange a rendezvous. Suppose she’s sincere. Any attempt by her to pass you information that backs up her claims would be precisely the kind of exchange that authorities will be watching for. And if it’s a setup, she’ll make sure they see you receive it--”
“Would you listen to yours
elf? Why the hell would she or anyone in China try to set me up?”
“I don’t know.”
“Maybe that’s because there is no reason, just like there’s no setup.”
“I advise you to reconsider the Guangdong part of your itinerary.”
“Cancel Guangdong! No way, Ryder! And who do you think you are, telling me how to run my professional life? I’m one of the few World Health officials from outside the country ever invited to inspect the area--”
“You still don’t see that the timing’s all too fishy?”
“Timing?”
“Yeah. You being invited when so many others have been refused entry, especially at the height of some mysterious outbreak that Beijing would hardly want made public.”
“I see that you’re trying to scare me out of going to Guangdong.”
“Damn it, Anna, all I want is to make sure you know what to guard against--”
“Like you did in Gabon?”
Terry’s pale eyes blazed azure blue. “That was a mistake--”
“Why haven’t you questioned Wey Chen about all this?” Anna had cut him off before he could say anything more about that part of her life. She’d spent enough time--one year, eight months, but who’s counting--squeezing the memories of it out of her head and didn’t want them brought back. Definitely water over sze bridge.
He studied her, as if weighing whether to press the matter, then gave a short sigh.
He would let it drop. She felt relieved, but at the same time was oddly disappointed.
“I can’t get word back to Wey Chen without putting her at risk, in case she is on the up and up,” he said. “You better than anyone know how it is.”
That part he’d gotten right. Simply getting a letter from a Western scientist had elicited a visit from the KGB back in Russia. All communists were control freaks, and it wouldn’t be any different in China. “All said and done, Terry, the one I don’t trust is still you. This feels too much like one of your games where nobody else knows what’s really at stake, and all the other players are twelve moves behind. Sound familiar?”
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