A short ride later, the elevator opened up into a modern-looking foyer, complete with a bored-looking receptionist.
Marshall signed himself and Mary into the systems, and told Kate to take a seat.
“We’ll be as quick as we can,” he said. He glanced at her arm. “How you holding up?”
“I’ll live,” said Kate, wincing slightly as she sat down on one of the padded chairs. A television had been bolted to one of the walls playing a local news report – some kind of economics feature. Kate gazed up at the screen. “I’ll just sit here and learn about exchange rates.”
“We’ll come get you soon,” said Mary. She turned to Marshall. “Lead the way.”
The special agent took Mary through a set of double doors, swiping his pass on the card reader mounted to the frame. They walked down a few empty corridors, and then took a right turn to hit the conference rooms.
Director Ward was waiting for them.
“Sir, good to see you,” Marshall said, shaking Ward’s outstretched hand. “We were worried about you for a moment there.”
The director smiled. “Takes more than a country hike to keep me down.” He gestured toward one of the empty rooms. “Through here, please. I want a full report.”
Marshall and Mary followed him through. They waited for Ward to take a seat at the long table, then sat down opposite. Ward leaned forward, palms down on the wood.
“So,” he said. “Start from the beginning. What happened after you got Leopold out of the country?”
Marshall and Mary took it in turns to brief the director. Mary was surprised how easy the words flowed, as though they were speaking in sync. Ward remained impassive throughout, only nodding along as they talked. When Marshall had finished describing the situation at the warehouse, Ward finally spoke.
He said, “And you’re sure Blake has something to do this?”
“I don’t work with coincidences, sir,” said Marshall. “We linked Blake to the Chemworks takeover and we linked the warehouse in New Jersey to Chemworks. We have a source inside the WHO. She confirmed it. She took us there.”
Ward glanced at Mary. “And this would be your sister?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Are her sources reliable?”
Mary nodded. “Whatever people say about Kate, she’s good at her job. She took CDC intel and ran down the leads herself. I’d stake my career on it, sir.”
Ward smiled grimly. “You might have to, Jordan.” He looked back at Marshall. “So, if you’re taking the lead on this, it looks like we’re going to have to explain how you two escaped the blast at Leopold’s apartment.”
Mary nodded. “I have contacts at the press. We can make sure something leaks.”
“The story’s been front page news since it happened,” said Ward. “People are uneasy. They assume it’s a terrorist attack.”
“They’d be right.”
“And what about Leopold? He could be an asset. He’s no good to us halfway around the world.”
Mary took a deep breath. “He’s out of our sphere of control,” she said. “I don’t doubt that his access to Blake Investments’ records could point us in the right direction, but we can’t get hold of him securely. It’s too risky. If his father knows he’s alive, he’ll see us coming a mile away.”
“He’s already seen you coming,” said Ward. “In case you forgot about New Jersey.”
Mary grimaced. “How could I forget? I’ve nearly been blown up twice this week already. It’s not something you forget, believe me.” She paused. “But Blake won’t know who was at the warehouse, and he’ll assume we didn’t find anything. He doesn’t know about the connections we found through the CDC and he doesn’t know about Kate. Chances are, he’ll assume we know nothing. That gives us an advantage.”
“Not much of an advantage.”
“We need anything we can get.”
Ward sighed. “Did you manage to retrieve anything from the computer? Anything at all?”
“I’ll need a secure workstation,” said Marshall. “I was in the process of transferring files when we had to cut the visit short. I might have picked up something useful.”
Ward stood up and headed for the door. “I’ve got a laptop you can use. It’s hooked up to the encrypted network.” He waved them forward. “Come with me. I want to see what this bastard is up to.”
***
Ward had appropriated a slim MacBook Pro from one of the special agents in charge and had cleared himself a small work area in one of the meeting rooms. The space was already piled high with old case files, sheets of paper littering the desk and floor. The director had clearly been busy since his arrival.
“Coleman wasn’t too happy, believe me,” said Ward, booting up the silver laptop. “I had to threaten to take over his office just to get this damn computer off him.” He chuckled. “Poor bastard looked like he was about to have a fit.”
“Allow me, sir.” Marshall took control of the keys and logged into the FBI portal. A few keystrokes later, he had located the email. “Only a few megabytes made it through,” he said. “But there’s several dozen files, so we might get lucky.”
“Pull them up on the screen,” said Ward, leaning in close.
Marshall opened up a PDF document. “More CAD drawings and spec sheets,” he said.
“Can you figure out what they’re for?” asked Mary.
“Definitely not the same drawings we saw at the warehouse. Some kind of wiring diagram, but it’s not for an ECU. At least, not the kind we’re used to seeing.”
“Then what?”
He scrolled down a little further. The next page was all text – a series of complex-looking equations that Mary didn’t understand.
Marshall exhaled deeply. “Damn.”
“What’s the problem?”
“This is a little beyond me.” He turned to Ward. “Sir, I recommend we send this for analysis. I can’t be of much help here.”
The FBI director nodded. “I know someone we can use. I have a team trying to figure out what Blake stole from the servers during his escape. I pulled some of the old case files, too. Some of them mention one or more of Blake’s old identities. I’ve read through them, and there’s something about them that just doesn’t make sense. I can’t put my finger on it.” He paused. “We’ll know more when the analysis team gets done. Call me paranoid, but I don’t think the list of aliases is all he took from our databases.”
“Sir?”
“They left me alive, Marshall. I was a loose end and they let me live.” He stared at the text on the screen. “That means I’m still useful to them. There’s something we’re missing and I’m supposed to find it.”
Mary gritted her teeth and resisted the urge to swear out loud. “This is all a game to him, isn’t it?”
“A game we’re losing,” said Ward, nodding. “They expect me to find something. A trail of bread crumbs. They want me to figure out what they’re planning. So I can appreciate the stakes.”
“You sound very sure, sir,” said Marshall.
“It’s what I’d do,” said Ward. “I’d want the enemy playing catch-up. That way, they wouldn’t see me coming until it’s too late.” He closed the laptop lid. “But we’re not going to let that happen. We’re going to figure out what this son of a bitch is doing, and we’re going to get to him first. And we’re going to make him pay.”
Chapter 47
MARY HAD LEFT Marshall with Director Ward and flagged down a cab outside the FBI building with Kate in tow. A few minutes of uncomfortable silence later the driver dropped them off at Mary’s apartment in West Village. The neighborhood felt a little quieter than usual.
Mary ushered her sister up the stairs to her sixth-floor apartment, unlocked the door, and stepped inside. She drew a deep breath, tiredness seeping over her as the familiar warmth of home set in. She resisted the urge to flop down on the bed and fall asleep.
“So, what’s the plan, sis?” Kate absentmindedly opened the refrigerator and
peered inside. She sounded a little spaced out.
“The plan is for you to get some rest while Marshall and I follow up on some leads.”
“You want me to sit here while you have all the fun?”
Mary nodded. “You don’t sound too good.”
“Hey, we all got a knock to the head. I don’t see you making a big deal out of it.”
“I’ll get a checkup when this is all over. But you’re a civilian. They won’t let you have access to any of the FBI intel. It’s been difficult enough for Ward to get me in the room. So, you might as well stay here and try to recover. You’ve got a messed-up arm, and who knows how much blood loss.”
Kate reached up and touched the gash on her cheek. “It’s just a scratch.”
“All the same, there’s nothing more you can do except try to get the CDC to step up their game. Maybe they can help us figure out what was in those explosives. Whatever those chemicals were, they weren’t released into the air after the place went up in smoke. So they probably burned up during the blast. We need to understand what we’re dealing with.”
Kate looked like she was going to argue, but apparently decided otherwise. She took the carton of milk out of the fridge and took a swig.
“Ugh, get a glass,” said Mary. “You always used to do that.”
“Yeah, and it always bugged you.” Kate grinned. “Well, seeing as I’m going to be stuck here for a while, I’d better make myself at home.”
“Sure, go ahead.”
Kate took the carton of milk and headed for the sofa. She slumped down onto the cushions and found the TV remote under a pile of clean laundry.
“The maid not working this week?” she said, turning on the television.
“Very funny.” Mary left the tiny kitchen and settled down on the sofa next to her sister. “Listen, about earlier…” she trailed off.
Kate sighed and changed the channel. “Forget it,” she said. “Nearly getting blown up makes everyone a little edgy.”
“No, I’m serious. I know we haven’t talked much since… well, not in a long time.”
Kate hit the mute button. “I know, sis. And I don’t blame you.”
“I just… I don’t understand why you weren’t there. We needed you. Mom and I both needed you.”
“I know.”
Silence.
Mary shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “I just need to know why.”
“You will. But it’s not for me to tell you,” Kate said. “I think you need to have a conversation with mom.” She picked up the remote, pointed it at the television, and turned the sound back on.
Mary sighed. She knew the conversation was over. Standing up, she left her sister watching the local news station and headed for the bathroom, their conversation nagging in the back of her mind.
She instinctively looked around for her phone before remembering she needed to find a replacement. She swore under her breath and resolved to call her mother the first chance she got. Something about Kate’s explanation didn’t feel right.
Talk to mom? What’s she hiding?
Mary shook the thoughts away. She had more important things to focus on right now. Her mind drifted to Marshall and she glanced at her reflection in the mirror. Staring back at her, Mary saw a stranger with tangled hair, mottled bruises over her shoulders and neck, and dark circles under her eyes. She splashed some water on her face and ran a brush through the knots. The effect was negligible.
Swearing again, Mary gave up and decided to take a shower.
***
The hot water and change of clothes helped, and Mary emerged from her bedroom half an hour later feeling like she had just woken up from eight hours’ sleep. Her mind felt clearer, sharper.
Kate lay sprawled out on the sofa, unmoving. The news report had finished, and the TV had switched to some daytime soap opera Mary didn’t recognize. She peered over the back of the couch. Kate snored gently, still fast asleep.
Quietly, Mary rummaged through her bedroom drawers and found an old blanket. She returned to the living room and draped it over her sister. Returning to the kitchen, Mary checked the cupboards for her spare cell phone and found the old blocky handset next to a bag of dried pasta. She checked the phone for charge and was pleasantly surprised to see at least a few hours’ worth of battery life left.
God bless old technology.
Mary scribbled a quick note giving Kate her phone number and stuck it to the fridge. Leaving her set of spare keys on the countertop, she grabbed a jacket, crept quietly out the door and headed downstairs, eager to get back to Marshall for an update on the case.
Mary smiled. For some reason, her arm wasn’t hurting quite so much anymore.
Chapter 48
HAWKES STOOD OUTSIDE the Roosevelt Island Tram Station on the corner of East 60th and Second Avenue. Ahead, the Queensboro Bridge sprawled out into the distance, out across the East River toward Queens. The traffic sat nose to tail, as usual. Foot traffic was dense, pedestrians weaving in and out of stationary cars as they waited at the lights. Everyone kept their heads down, or, if they were behind the wheel, stayed focused on the car in front.
Hiding in plain sight.
Hawkes caught sight of Grayson up ahead, near to where the Queensboro Bridge began its slow, sloping ascent. He wore a black rucksack slung over his shoulder. A cordoned-off area stood to the side, where a team of city contractors appeared to be working on some underground pipes. Grayson nodded at Hawkes and disappeared behind the barriers.
The colonel glanced around, checking for any signs he was being watched, before breaking into a fast walk and crossing the street. He caught up with Grayson near the bridge underpass, and the two men took refuge behind the thick concrete piers, obscured from view.
Grayson knelt down and laid the rucksack on the ground. He unzipped it, and fished out one of the devices they had shipped in from Queens. Or maybe Brooklyn. They all looked the same.
He checked the wiring for damage. Like the others, this unit had two transparent tubes holding a different-colored liquid in each. One red, one green - Isopropyl Aminoethylmethyl Phosphonite and a simple Sulfur suspension. The liquids were dyed, of course. Hawkes figured either to make it easier to identify the separate compounds, or, more likely, for aesthetic effect. In the center of the mass of wires, a metal tube housed the explosives.
Once the device was armed, the two liquids would mix, isomerizing the usually harmless chemicals. The resulting compound, a deadly variation of VX gas, would be released into the atmosphere.
The effects would be catastrophic. Less than one milligram of the toxin coming into contact with human skin would be enough to kill. Heavier than air, the gas would stay low for maximum effect.
With at least three hundred devices clustered in strategic points of the city, the resulting devastation would essentially cut off any escape, the low-lying clouds of gas preventing anyone from getting off Manhattan Island.
Following the dispersal of the modified VX into the target areas, the devices were primed to detonate. Nothing too powerful, but enough noise and destruction to keep the HAZMAT and bomb disposal teams on their toes.
“First unit primed and ready,” said Grayson. “This should take care of the bridge. Once the first casualties go down, the NYPD will close off the road.”
Hawkes nodded. “One down, two hundred ninety-nine to go. If the men are in place, get back to the truck and start on the rest. And keep moving – I don’t want us getting any parking tickets.”
“Yes, sir. Remote sequence is set up. We just need to get the other units in place.” He stood up.
“Keep low and slow, soldier,” said Hawkes. “We’ve got until the morning to get everything in place. Make every minute count and do it right.”
“Yes, sir.” Grayson zipped up the black rucksack and slung it over his shoulder.
“Move out,” said Hawkes. “And stay frosty. In less than twenty-four hours, this will all be over.”
Grayson nodded. The two me
n split up and headed back to the tram station, disappearing into the crowds.
Chapter 49
MARY CHECKED HER brick of a phone for the fifth time in as many minutes. No calls. Which meant either Kate was still fast asleep, or just not speaking to her. Neither explanation would have been a surprise. Mary had taken a cab back to the FBI field office, and, after a heated discussion with the security guard, had managed to get Marshall to come down and let her through.
He had taken her back up to the twenty-third floor, and now he, Mary, and Director Ward were poring over the results from the Jersey P.D. forensics preliminary field report, huddled around Ward’s desk.
“I had to pull a few strings to get this fast tracked,” said Ward, hooking his borrowed MacBook up to the office projector. A blown-up image of the report jumped onto the six-foot canvas screen on the far wall. “So, let’s hope there’s something useful in here.”
Mary glanced at the projected image. “How much could they have found so soon?”
“The CSI team have some initial theories,” Ward said. “Based on the information you gave us, I told them what to look for. This is all pending the usual lab tests, of course. But it might shed some light.”
Marshall shuffled uncomfortably in his chair. “Okay, do we know what we’re dealing with here?”
“Like I said, we’ve got some theories,” said Ward. “I described the explosives to the Jersey field team. Told them we might be dealing with some kind of chemical weapon. They did some initial scans at the scene and found Sulphur dioxide and sodium hydroxide residue in the atmosphere and on the surfaces.”
“Which means?”
Fallen: A Leopold Blake Thriller (A Private Investigator Series of Crime and Suspense Thrillers Book 5) Page 18