The Cotten Stone Omnibus: It started with The Grail Conspiracy... (The Cotten Stone Mysteries)

by Lynn Sholes

  The General Secretary rose to his feet. “Dr. Chung means that she has found a way to make our great country one to be reckoned with. We will at last become a world superpower.”

  Moon bowed her head. “Yes, Dear Leader. That is what I meant to say.”

  He gave a quick motion of his hand for her to carry on before taking his seat.

  “A year ago when our courageous navy captured the American research vessel Pitcairn and discovered all on board were dead, it presented quite a quandary. How had this happened? When we reviewed the ship’s log and watched video taken by one of the student passengers, it became clear that the ship had anchored near a small island off our west coast, one where my parents had spent years at the secret Unit 731 facility researching biological warfare for Japan. I thought perhaps there was a connection between their work and the deaths of the ship’s crew, and so I returned to the island with my research team. Protected by our hazardous materials gear we discovered that the laboratory had been abandoned at the end of the war. But I found there were some things left behind, originally hidden but exposed by a recent earthquake. These things included canisters of what was believed to be a rather benign virus, not much more than what causes the common cold. When I returned here to our laboratory, I studied the Unit 731 samples and discovered that this seemingly innocuous virus had mutated over time. In itself, it was still rather harmless, but the mutation was significant for a totally different reason.”

  She watched their young faces as they seemed to hang on each word.

  “You see, comrades, all of us—all humans—have scattered across our DNA the remnants of an ancient retrovirus, one much more virulent than the one found on the Unit 731 island. In essence we are all carrying in the human genome what can be considered as time bombs.”

  The eyes of her audience grew wide in wonder.

  “When a person is infected with the Unit 731 virus found on the island, the body’s immune system immediately attacks it and renders it impotent. In itself, it is no threat. But here is the secret it harbors. When it infects someone, almost instantaneously, before the immune system destroys it, this otherwise benign virus reacts with that ancient retrovirus we all carry in our genes. That prehistoric retrovirus reassembles, mutates, and becomes a hemorrhagic virus killer.”

  Moon paused for dramatic effect as she sipped water from the glass on the podium.

  “Are you following me so far?” She surveyed the pool of nodding heads. “Then I will proceed. Under the code name Black Needles, I spent the last twelve months manipulating and engineering the Unit 731 virus, which I call the T-virus, or trigger virus, so that it will do our bidding. And you are the heroes chosen to deliver it.”

  exhume

  “This is not right, and you know it,” Ellis Sutton said, stabbing the air with his finger in front of Luther’s face. “You’re letting them strangers desecrate our mother’s grave.”

  “Will you just pipe down,” Luther said. “We ain’t got no choice. They come with a court order signed by the judge.”

  “Well, they wouldn’t have no court order if you hadn’t gone and called that New York woman.” Ellis pointed at Cotten standing on the other side of the parlor in Thelma Sutton’s farmhouse.

  Cotten said nothing as she turned to the window looking out over the West Virginia farm. Through the white veil of snow gently falling across the hills, she watched hazmat-suited state police agents moving like ghosts around the newly opened grave. Not long after she arrived, a backhoe had broken through the frozen ground and made a pile of mahogany-colored earth off to the side. The men were in the process of tying heavy straps around the casket to lift it from the hole.

  Cotten had listened to the ongoing exchange between Luther and Ellis for the past half hour. Ellis was a much smaller man than his older brother, and she felt like she was witnessing a modern day version of David and Goliath—Luther planted like a tree trunk growing out of the wooden floor while Ellis circled him.

  Beside her stood the Calhoun County sheriff. Scattered around the room, along with a few other members of the Sutton family, were the county medical examiner, the family pastor, and a local funeral director.

  “And I told you we should of called the mortician when Big Thelma died,” Ellis said to Luther. “They don’t like folks burying bodies in homemade coffins and just anywhere they please.”

  “She said she didn’t want no one seeing her in that condition,” Luther said, his voice bellowing across the room.

  “Yeah, well, tell that to the sheriff,” Ellis said. “Jesus, Luther, what were you thinking?”

  “Ellis Sutton,” the pastor said, “I won’t stand for you taking the name of the Lord in vain.”

  “Sorry, Reverend.” Ellis bowed his head. “I’m just so upset.” He dropped down onto a wooden, ladder-back chair. Talking to the room, he said, “They’re out there digging up our mother. It just makes me sick.”

  “Are they in a lot of trouble?” Cotten quietly asked the sheriff.

  “Probably not.” The sheriff was a tall man in his late forties with premature gray hair. He stood with his hands stuffed inside his parka. “West Virginia state law is largely silent on burials. So not withstanding any local ordinance, you can have yourself laid to rest pretty much anywhere you’d like. They frown upon doing it near a water supply, though. But that’s not the case out here in such a rural setting. I think the younger Sutton just likes to raise a ruckus.” He glanced over his shoulder at the family members. “Burying their mother up there on the hill is the least of the problems here. What we need to know is what killed her.”

  “You’re absolutely correct, Sheriff,” the medical examiner said, standing behind Cotten. “Fortunately, because of the freezing weather, her body should be well preserved. Even without proper embalming, the temperature in the frozen ground would have slowed down decomp. We should have a good chance of determining cause of death.”

  “What about the question of who signed the death certificate?” Cotten asked the sheriff.

  “Under state law,” he said, “only a licensed medical, surgical or osteopathic physician can sign. According to Luther, they had a doctor come out here and complete the death certificate.”

  “That would be the mysterious Asian doctor who has since left the area?” Cotten asked.

  “I’m afraid so,” the sheriff said. “He treated Thelma Sutton while old Doc Benson was away on a two-week trip. The Doc used what’s known as a temporary physician service. They send a licensed doctor to fill in while a local doctor is away so he don’t have to close down and lose business.”

  “Is that a common practice,” Cotten asked.

  “I’ve heard of it,” said the sheriff. “This is a small community with lots of elderly folks. We can’t afford to go without a doctor for two weeks. I can understand Doc Benson using the service.”

  “Does he have records of who the Asian physician was?” she asked.

  “Already checked,” the sheriff said. “The company that sent the temporary physician here said it was the first time they used him and he never reported back after this assignment. He has since disappeared.” He turned to Cotten. “I know, the whole thing stinks to high heaven.”

  She glanced out the window in time to see the backhoe lift the plain pine coffin from the hole and set it down beside the mountain laurel that had also been dug up.

  “Have you ever heard of a death like this before?” Cotten asked the sheriff.

  He shook his head. “Not in these parts. Nothing that comes close to the description of Thelma Sutton.”

  The medical examiner motioned to the activity on the distant hillside. “They’ve got it open.”

  Cotten watched the hazmat-clad agents gather around the open casket. They stood motionless for a while, then one knelt and appeared to study the inside. He turned and looked toward the farmhouse. Then he removed his protective he
adgear and brought his radio to his mouth.

  “What the hell?” the sheriff said. “Why did he take his mask off ?”

  His two-way radio crackled and a metallic voice said, “Come on up.”

  The parlor emptied as everyone headed out the front door and across the snowy field toward the hillside cemetery.

  Cotten walked beside the sheriff. She could see that all the agents had removed their masks. A few had turned and started walking toward the state crime scene forensics truck a few hundred feet away.

  With every step, Cotten felt the familiar pang of dread growing in her gut. The same one that cut into her each time she came in contact with the handiwork of the Fallen.

  The group gathered around the pine coffin and stared inside. Cotten saw delicate snowflakes already collecting on the bare wood bottom of the empty box.

  the swarm

  As a whole, Moon thought, the recruits had digested everything she had told them so far. This was going as well as she had anticipated. She stared out across the hangar at the thousand eager faces as she paused for a sip of water. A hand went up.

  “Yes, comrade.”

  “Will the ancient retrovirus not be difficult to control? Could disease spread even to our own people?”

  “Ahh, a very smart question. This is why you were all handpicked, because of your intellects.”

  A scattering of smiles and applause rippled through the crowd.

  “The beauty of this is that the ancient retrovirus, once reassembled, still has not made the leap which allows it to be passed from human to human. You will be delivering to these specific targets the T-virus that will cause the ancient virus to reassemble and mutate into a killer. Once the targets receive the T-virus, their bodies will attack and destroy it, but not before it causes the ancient virus to reassemble— but they cannot pass on that deadly disease to another human. This keeps our countrymen and friends from falling prey.”

  Moon looked across the room again. “We have satellite medical preparation labs already assembled and in place around the world. You and your teammates will each be provided a passport and proper identification that will allow you to enter and move freely in the country of your assignment. Once at your designated lab, you will begin the process of chemotherapy and radiation. This is necessary so that when you are infected with the T-virus, your natural immune system will not quickly destroy it. Remember that it is a relatively weak virus on its own. And so your bone marrow must be impaired, in fact, eliminated. Once infected, you will only have a few days to reach your targets before the reassembled ancient virus inside you rapidly disables you.”

  She waited to see if there were any negative voices or rumblings of dissent. None came.

  “Also included in the packets you will receive today will be two small containers of pills. The first is blue and holds an exceptionally potent drug that produces an extreme amount of energy. It will help you compensate for the weakness you will experience resulting from the immune system medical procedure. The second is red. Once you have delivered the T-virus to your targets, you are to take the red tablets. This will prevent you from suffering after the reassembled retrovirus attacks your body. It is a painful death, and we do not want any of you in this special group to endure discomfort. Taking the pills will mean that death comes swiftly, peacefully, and painlessly. You, faithful comrades, are giving your lives to preserve our beautiful way of life in Korea. Your families’ hearts will swell with pride. You are the finest of patriots and will be remembered eternally for your sacrifices.”

  She took another drink of water, then said, “One last detail. Once you are on station and ready to go forth to strike your designated targets, you will receive a command to launch. That command is the number 731.”

  Another hand went up.

  “Dr. Chung, how will we deliver the T-virus?”

  “Another smart national hero,” she said. “And the answer to that question is the amazing beauty of our Black Needles project. Unlike the crude, barbaric suicide bombers who blow themselves up in the market places and mosques of the world, you are the next generation of avengers. For you will carry within your body the breath of death. Your weapon cannot be detected or identified, for it is invisible. Those around you will see only a man or woman sitting in a church or riding in a bus or traveling on an airplane, shopping in a mall, or attending a sporting event. Just another face in a faceless crowd. And with something as innocent as your breathing or simply by a cough or sneeze, you will strike out and wreak havoc upon our enemies. Then you will casually walk away from your targets, leaving them totally unaware that you have just dealt them a fatal blow. Once our enemies learn of the terrible plague cast upon them, they will be afraid to leave their homes, go to their jobs, or send their children to school. We will hold the world to our terms. You are about to become the most powerful and deadly force on the face of the earth. And for that, I salute you.”

  This time, not only did the hangar erupt with a thunderous roar, but the General Secretary and his delegation stood and applauded as well.

  Once the reaction died down, Moon turned to face the General Secretary. “Dear Leader would also like to express his gratefulness by rewarding each of your families with a monetary remuneration of one thousand won.”

  A collective “Ahh,” sounded in the room. Moon knew they would be pleased. The average income was sixty won per month, so one thousand won was more than any would earn in a year.

  She scanned the audience. “Are there any questions?” When no one spoke, she said, “Then we will begin the final processing. Please stay seated until your name is called. You will then join your team and be given a brief orientation along with your packets and information about your final destination and approximate launch windows.”

  The room broke into yet another mighty wave of applause. Moon went to stand beside the General Secretary. As they watched the reaction from the Black Needles recruits, he leaned in and whispered to her, “They are like swarming bees destined to die once they sting.”

  dead end

  “I’m really sorry, Luther,” the sheriff said. “There’s just not much else we can do right now. If and when we locate your mother’s body, we’ll perform an autopsy and hopefully figure out what killed her.”

  “I know you done your best,” Luther said.

  “Good God Almighty,” Ellis said. “Who’d-a-gone and taken Momma?”

  Cotten glanced at the sheriff. He shrugged and shook his head.

  “Why would somebody go and do that?” Luther said.

  The sheriff ran his hand over the top of his head, then replaced his cap. “Was she buried with any heirlooms, valuables, jewelry?”

  “We put her in her blue dress,” Ellis said, glancing at the pastor. “Her Sunday best. She liked that one.”

  “Big Thelma didn’t have no fancy jewelry,” Luther said. “Only them cultured pearls she got to wear when she married our daddy, Hubert. But I don’t believe they was worth much.”

  “I just want Momma back in her final place beside daddy,” Ellis said. “It don’t make no sense. If there’s some scumbag who wanted our momma’s pearls, why didn’t he just take them and leave Big Thelma to rest in peace?”

  No body, no evidence, Cotten thought.

  Luther stared in the distance, his expression showing that he was deep in thought. He turned back to the pile of dirt beside the grave and blinked. “I planted that mountain laurel the same day we buried her.” He tipped his head toward the dug-up shrub. A melancholy smile emerged on his face. “It was her favorite. Blooms so pretty—I thought she’d like that. In the spring I was gonna plant a sugar maple. Give her some shade, you know. Me and the rest of the family come out here about once a week or so, and I haven’t noticed any dirt piles or anything that would make me think somebody had been fooling with her grave. And nobody else has said nothing. Whoever did it would have had to dig
up that laurel. I’d have noticed. So I figure it had to be right after we put her in the ground, before the soil settled.” His eyebrows arched, and the corners of his mouth turned down. “Could have been somebody from church. Nobody else would know about them pearls.”

  “But Luther, they ain’t worth shit—sorry, pastor,” Ellis said.

  “Somebody must have thought different,” Luther said.

  Ellis kicked the ice-crusted ground. “Son-of-a-b. Anybody that needs a couple of bucks that bad—”

  Luther looked at Cotten. “So I guess we won’t be finding out if Big Thelma died of the same disease as that New York City fella you told us about?”

  “Doesn’t look that way,” Cotten said. “Sorry your family has gone through all this.”

  Luther gave her an appreciative nod.

  “I’d have to agree with Ms. Stone,” the sheriff said. “All we have is the description of your mother’s symptoms. But the state police plan to get the forensic boys to do a complete analysis of the coffin for any evidence. And we’ll start an investigation into the disappearance of the body.”

  “Let’s hope it was just for the pearls,” Cotten said to the sheriff as they shook hands.

  ___

  Cotten checked the speedometer as she drove down Interstate 79. The light traffic let her keep the cruise control on eighty. She could easily make her 2:30 flight out of Yeager. As soon as they discovered that Big Thelma Sutton wasn’t in her grave, Cotten had switched her flight back to New York, changing it instead to Atlanta.

  She probed the center console for her cell, found it, snapped it open and said, “Ted, work.” In an instant she heard the tones of the phone dialing Ted Casselman at SNN headquarters. She only had a few of her contacts programmed for voice recognition, numbers that she called often, especially when on the road. Great feature.