We All Fall Down mk-4

by Michael Harvey

  “How much more?”

  “Ellen’s still working on the blood. But people are getting scared.”

  “Where’s Danielson?”

  “That’s what we’d like you to find out.”

  “Who’s ‘we’?”

  “Ellen and me. And the mayor.”

  “The mayor. Of course, the mayor.”

  “We spoke an hour ago. He’s concerned, Michael.”

  “I bet he is. Danielson put you all in the subway yesterday morning, and now he’s disappeared. You’re worried he set you up.”

  “You were there as well.”

  “You gonna push on me now?”

  Molly’s eyes ran away and hid. She twisted her hands in a bunch.

  “Why don’t I just leave town?” I said. “Let you track him down yourself?”

  “Ellen said… ”

  “What did Ellen say?”

  “We can’t just leave.”

  “Why not?”

  “First off, as of this morning we’re no longer in charge. In fact, we feel like prisoners in our own lab.”

  “Have you tried to leave?”

  “I get the feeling it would be better if we didn’t. Especially Ellen.”

  “Why did you bring me in?”

  “Ellen wanted one of us to have a face-to-face with you.”

  “See if I was worth trusting?”

  “Homeland was going to pick you up anyway. They want to control everything until they’re ready to go public.”

  “Yeah, well, now I’m stuck here.”

  “Not necessarily.”

  A radio squawked in the hall, followed by the low murmur of voices.

  “Come on.” Molly walked me into a smaller prep area and pointed to a door. “That’s a fire exit. If you go down two floors, it lets you out into a paper-processing plant.”

  “The envelope factory?”

  “Yes.” She held up a couple of keys. “One of these should get you into their facility. They have an internal loading dock on the ground floor.”

  “When are they going public on the release?”

  “I don’t know. Like I said, things are starting to escalate. One of us will call when we get a chance.”

  The sounds from the hall were closer now.

  “Get going.”

  I moved toward the fire exit just as the handle turned and the door opened. A compact man with hair the color of burnt straw stood in the stairwell. He wore a suit made of brown tweed and talked into a Bluetooth mike slung around his ear.

  “I got them. Meet you downstairs.”

  He walked us back into the main lab and pointed toward the corridor. “Molly, why don’t you give us a minute?”

  She left without a look back. The small man pulled out a couple of chairs. We both sat.

  “And you are?” I said.

  “James Doll, Homeland Security.”

  Doll had a face worthy of his name. Eyes like glass, rouged cheeks, and a shiny round chin. His features were screwed on tight to his face, and I swore his lips moved only when he blinked.

  “Where’s Danielson?” I said.

  Doll stood up. He wore shoes with wooden soles that clicked on the lab’s floor when he walked. Doll stopped in front of a monitor with a screen saver of Magilla Gorilla on a tricycle. He studied Magilla for a moment and, apparently, got all he could out of it. Then he turned back to me.

  “I’ve heard about you, Mr. Kelly.”

  “Where’s Danielson?”

  “Funny. That’s what we want to ask you.”

  “You have some sort of pathogen release in the city.”

  “We’re aware of the situation.”

  “Then you’re aware that what you do in the next hour or so will determine whether a lot of people die. Or just a few.”

  “A task force has already been assembled and is discussing options.”

  “I need to talk to them.”

  Doll raised his right eyebrow and leaked out a smile. “Not a chance.”

  “I can help you.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t think the release had anything to do with Danielson.”

  “No?”

  “I think he got played.”

  “By whom?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  “And you want us to let you run around and dig up all the answers?”

  Doll waited. I didn’t say a word.

  “I know. Sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it?” Doll sat down again and patted a small yellow mustache smooth. “Our priority, Mr. Kelly, is twofold. Identify the pathogen, if there is one. And contain it. Dr. Brazile and her people will focus on the first task. It’s my job to take care of the second.”

  “How?”

  “We’ve already identified sections of the West Side and Oak Park. People will be told to stay in their homes. Target areas will be isolated until the threat is brought under control.”

  “Quarantine?”

  Doll smiled. His teeth matched the mustache. “I like to think of it as a really bad snow emergency. As for you, quarantine is the perfect way to describe what we have planned… ”

  A woman’s scream, thin and high, tore through the corridors. It was a sound I’d heard before-broken, ragged nails of sorrow, digging furrows in flesh, willing anything to make it not so. Footsteps hammered down the corridor outside the lab. Doll hesitated for a moment, then ran toward the pain. Like most humans, he just couldn’t resist. I took out the key Molly had given me and headed in the opposite direction. Toward the fire exit, the stairs, and the streets.

  CHAPTER 25

  “Homeland wants to lock me up.”

  I was sitting in a sandwich shop two blocks from my apartment. The waitress brought me a coffee. I poured in some cream and sugar. Rachel Swenson built her wall of silence at the other end of the line.

  “Did you hear me, Rach?”

  “I heard you. They must have a good reason.”

  “I need you to do something. Actually, it’s a couple of things. You’re gonna need to do them right now. And you’re gonna need to pack a bag.”

  I took a sip of coffee and winced at what was pouring out of the receiver. When she’d finished, I told Rachel my plan.

  A little over an hour later, I parked on my street in a car I’d grabbed from a Rent-A-Wreck on Irving Park. The rain had stopped as quickly as it started. The promise of more hung heavy in the air. Up the block, a couple of federal agents sat in front of my building in a black sedan. Subtle fellas, these guys.

  One of them had just returned from a snack run to Potbelly’s Subs when Rachel’s Audi pulled to the curb. I wasn’t sure if they didn’t know who she was or just hadn’t seen a woman in a while, but there were a lot of napkins and wax paper flying as she stepped out of her car. Rachel took her time, letting herself into my building with her set of keys. My guys were on their cell phones now, shaking their heads and talking to their pals downtown. At worst, they’d take a picture and download it to someone who would recognize Rachel as my friend and, more important, as a sitting federal judge. The phone buzzed on the seat next to me. Rachel’s number flashed on the screen.

  “I’m inside.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Pup’s happy to see me.”

  “Great.”

  “Anything else you need?”

  “Just what I told you.”

  “I’m not leaving town, Michael.”

  “If you wait even another hour, it might not be so easy.”

  “What is this about?”

  “You probably have a pretty good idea.”

  No response.

  “Do you trust me, Rach?”

  “Yes.”

  “Get Mags and get out of the city.”

  “I saw the car out front.”

  “There’s another guy in the alley watching my back door.”

  “Are they waiting for you?”

  “Yes. I don’t think they’ll bother you-at least not right now. If they do, just tell them we
arranged last week for you to pick up the dog.”

  “And I don’t know where you are?”

  “You won’t. Now go. And take care of the pup.”

  Rachel cut the line. She wasn’t happy, but I didn’t really give a damn. Getting her out of town might be overkill. I didn’t give a damn about that either. A minute later, the judge walked out of my building, Maggie on a leash and wagging her tail. I watched the feds. They watched Rachel but sat tight. She got in her car and left. I pulled around the block and parked. I slipped on a Cubs hat I’d bought at a Walgreens and got out.

  My building is a classic Chicago six-flat, with a single entrance and three units running off either side of the center staircase. The back of the building has two sets of stairs. The one on the north services my apartment and dumps out into the alley that was currently inhabited by a fed eating a sub in his car. The other empties onto a quiet Lakeview street called Cornelia Avenue.

  I walked down Cornelia, pushed open a black iron gate, and took a look. From where I stood, the guy in the alley couldn’t see me. Halfway up the stairs, he wouldn’t miss me. If he was paying attention, that is. I didn’t have time to think about any of that, which is sometimes a good thing. I pulled the hat down low, hiked up the stairs and found the key my neighbor kept to his apartment under a smiling stone Buddha. Then I opened his back door and stepped inside.

  My neighbor was a Kenyon music grad, soon-to-be rock star, and current bike messenger named Mikey Sanders. I’d knocked on his door one day because I thought he was doing strange things to his cat. Mikey explained that was music I was hearing. Then he offered me a beer and introduced me to Andrew Bird’s Bowl of Fire. Today, the apartment was quiet. The cat drifted out of the shadows and rubbed against my ankles. I crept down a short hallway to Mikey’s front door and looked through the peephole at an empty stairwell. I cracked the door, sneaked across the stairwell, and let myself into my apartment. The only sound came from a clock ticking in the kitchen. I stayed close to the wall and away from the front windows until I got to the back of the apartment. Here the shades were pulled tight; the room, dark. I took out a small flashlight, sat down at my desk, and reached for a bottom drawer full of papers. I’d gotten the thing halfway open when I felt the blade at my throat and a voice I didn’t expect sitting just inside my ear.

  CHAPTER 26

  “You got a nice dog, Kelly.”

  Danielson kept the knife tight against my skin as he took a seat and switched on the desk lamp.

  “How’d you get into my apartment?” I said.

  “I almost grabbed your girlfriend. Thought she was you, but the perfume gave it away. You gonna be quiet?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “They still out there?”

  “Sure.”

  Before I could move, a gun had replaced the blade in his hands. It was black, with a black suppressor attached.

  “You don’t look so good, Danielson.”

  His skin looked stretched under the pale light. His hair was heavy with grease, and his eyes were a little too bright for their own good.

  “What’s going on out there?” he said.

  “What do you know?”

  “Give me your gun.”

  I pulled my piece off my hip. Danielson took it and got up from his chair.

  “Keep your hands on the desk.”

  I did. The Homeland Security agent drifted into the shadows and returned a moment later.

  “I’ve been keeping up to date.” Danielson put his laptop down between us. Then he pulled out a set of cuffs. “I can’t work this and keep an eye on you.”

  I held out my hands. Danielson cuffed me and pocketed the keys. “I got most of the stuff they’ve been streaming to DC about the release.”

  “They haven’t shut you out yet?”

  Danielson sharpened his cheekbones into a grin, teeth shining like a couple rows of tombstones. “I put a keystroke device on one of their laptops. Access codes change every hour, but this program sweeps them up automatically, so I’m always in the loop.”

  “Good for you. What happened yesterday?”

  Danielson cocked his head and stopped typing. “So you don’t think I intentionally released a bioweapon into the subway?”

  “You’re not very bright, and you’re a patriot. That’s a dangerous enough combination.”

  “Fuck you, Kelly.”

  “What happened?”

  Danielson was reading a screen of text and whistled. “Going all-out.”

  “Who?”

  “Who do you think? They just put up an internal map of potential quarantine zones. Gonna separate Oak Park from the West Side. Protect the white folks. Smart.” Danielson turned the laptop around so I could see. “They won’t go public until the troops are in place.”

  “Troops?”

  “National Guard. Sprinkled in with Chicago’s finest. They’re all gonna be dressed up in NBC suits so it won’t make a damn bit of difference.”

  He flipped the screen around again and continued scrolling through pages of text. “Gonna call it ‘convenience sheltering.’ Got a nice ring to it, no? But the real question is why.”

  “You said it yourself. There’s been a release.”

  “Yes, but if it’s anthrax, there’s no real danger of person-to-person transmission.” Danielson snapped his laptop shut. “So why not just evacuate? Why the quarantine?”

  “I want to know about the subway.”

  Danielson checked his watch and picked up his gun. “You’re right. We don’t have a lot of time.”

  I wondered for a moment if he wasn’t just going to put a bullet in me and be done with it. Instead, he kept on talking.

  “You already know about Katherine Lawson. For the record, that was a sanctioned thing. She knew about the lightbulbs being lifted from Detrick. Was snooping around the subway trying to find them. I tried to warn her off.”

  “Then you popped her twice in the head with a twenty-two.”

  “Me? No. Like I said, it came from Washington.”

  “Then what?”

  “I knew both bulbs were harmless. Had rock-solid confirmation on that.”

  “Tell that to the corpses they’re collecting down at Cook County.”

  “The bulbs were harmless, Kelly. After Lawson, Washington ordered me to pull them out of the subway and turn them over to Brazile’s lab for disposal.”

  “So?”

  “So I got cute. Went off the playbook and sat on things for a couple of weeks.”

  “And Brazile went along.”

  “She trusted me.”

  “Her mistake. What were you waiting on?”

  “I fucked up.”

  “How?”

  “I had a line on some bad guys. A possible sleeper cell in Chicago, looking to buy materials.”

  “For an attack?”

  Danielson shrugged. “It was sketchy. Bio, maybe chemical. Maybe a load of bullshit. Anyway, we leaked information about Lawson’s death. Let them believe the bulbs were alive and still in place underground. Be just the thing guys like that cream over. I figured I’d give it a week or two, see if they made some inquiries. The home run would have been if they took a shot at the subway themselves.”

  “And you were certain the bulbs were harmless?”

  “Before I set up the sting, I went down into the subway myself.” Danielson gestured back into the shadows. “Detrick gave us an ultraviolet light. When you hit the bulbs with it, there’s an ID marker that glows. Took me maybe an hour to find both bulbs. I pulled one and gave it to CDA for testing. Left the other one where it was.”

  “And?”

  “Stuff was irradiated. Harmless. Hundred percent.”

  I sat back in my chair and thought things through. Maybe Danielson was lying, but I couldn’t figure why. Or why he was in my apartment in the first place.

  “If the bulbs are a red herring, what’s really going on?”

  “Now you’re asking the right questions.” Danielson wav
ed the barrel of his gun in my face and belched lightly. I got the first whiff of what might have been gin. “What really happened? If you know the game, it’s simple.”

  “And you know the game?”

  “Not well enough, apparently. The bad guys must have gotten wind of my little sting and turned it around. Used the lightbulbs as cover to release their own pathogen. Only they were using the real thing.”

  “You think it was the guys you targeted in the sting?”

  “Not likely.”

  “How do you know?”

  Danielson cracked his teeth together in a second graveyard grin. “Fourth one told me.”

  “The fourth one?”

  “Tracked them down around five this morning. Fourth watched the first three die. After that he told me everything I wanted to know.”

  “Then joined his buddies in Nirvana?”

  “No one’s crying. Fact is, they had nothing to do with this. Of course, there are plenty of other assholes out there.”

  “Why use the lightbulbs as a cover? And if it was a terrorist group, why haven’t they gone public? Taken all the credit. Made some demands or something.”

  Danielson shook his head at yet another stupid question. “Whoever decides to use a bioweapon isn’t likely to go public. Too much heat from their own people. In fact, they’ll run from it.”

  “Then what’s the point?”

  “Blackmail. Today’s textbook. Limited release. Maybe five hundred, a thousand people dead in Chicago. We shake our fists, bomb the shit out of a few more countries, and erect memorials. The world feels our pain, but mostly worries who’s next. Meanwhile, the terrorists stay quiet. Somewhere down the road, they tap us on the shoulder. Tell us they got another load of something and are gonna use it. Chicago again. New York, LA. We believe they’ll use it because the fuckers already have. So we cave. Pandora goes back in her box. Bad guys get what they want. And no one in DC has to look bad. That’s how bioweapons really work. At least, the politics of it.”

  “So this is the first shot?”

  “Could be.”

  “And what are we supposed to do?”

  “You and me?” Danielson looked around the room in case I might have been referring to someone else.

  “Yes, Danielson. What do we do?”

  “We die, Kelly. Like everybody else. Only quicker.”