“Unit? As in Steve?” Disbelief filled her voice, and it raised an octave higher than normal.
“Yes. ZEBRA has been laundering money for NWP. We want to know why.”
Anger quickly replaced disbelief. “And you think I can tell you?”
“Two of your team members from Africa are dead, and you’re being framed for the supposed release of a biological weapon. Yeah, I think you can tell us.”
Cassidy sat, finding it difficult to process everything. She bent her head and rubbed at the sudden throbbing in her temple. Her voice was low, barely audible. “Who?”
Jake frowned and tilted his head. “Excuse me?”
Staring into his face, she spoke louder. “Who is dead?”
“The bodies of your two geologists were found in Port Harcourt a few days ago.”
Cassidy closed her eyes, her body tingling as if she’d run into a wall of needles. Charles and David. Gone. She stood, rubbing her arms up and down in an attempt to recirculate blood, which felt thick and coagulated within her veins.
The fax machine beeped, and she wandered over to review the sheet it spit out, her mind trying to wrap around the information from Jake. Sitting on the edge of a floral wing chair, Cassidy read the fax for a second time. “I know where we’re going next,” she said to no one in particular.
“Where’s that?” Jake stepped up beside her, too close again.
“Montana. Apparently a subsidiary of NWP owns a piece of property there.”
Steve entered the room and handed Cassidy another stack of papers. She shuffled through them quickly. They were press cuttings of the charges filed against her. Rage built quickly and almost exploded in a scream as she flipped to the last page. Instead, Cassidy inhaled several deep breaths and handed the sheet to Jake. “This is bogus. A total setup. This has NWP’s handiwork written all over it.”
Jake nodded. “I agree.”
She needed to focus on the virus and ignore what the false charges meant to her career. Cassidy lifted her head and signaled to Steve with her hand. “Where do we stand with the CDC?”
“Their team isn’t fully together yet. They’ve set up camp just beyond the RV and are attempting to isolate and diagnose the genetic composition of the parvo virus you extracted from the wolves. They’ve received notice of additional human contamination.”
Cassidy’s eyes widened as her mind digested the ramifications of Steve’s words. The CDC and ZEBRA often worked assignments simultaneously. Their relationship was one of trust and respect, facilitating the ease of transferring responsibilities. “How will we be kept apprised as the situation escalates?”
“Colonel Price has a pipeline direct to the CDC. As far as they’re concerned, you’re the only suspect and the balance of our pod are still good guys.”
Cassidy smirked, digging out the emotional shield of sarcasm. “Great. I’ve always wanted to be a wanted woman.”
Jake snorted and whispered beneath his breath. “All you had to do was ask me.”
The fax beeped again and another sheet spit out. Jake picked this one up and read its contents before passing it to her. “This isn’t good.”
Their fingers touched briefly. She swallowed, ignoring the tingle. “What?” Cassidy read the document. “That’s impossible.” She raised her head and gazed at him. His eyes clouded with concern.
He shrugged. “I know, but they’ve run the test three times.”
“What’s going on?” Steve asked.
She turned toward him and handed over the document. “Apparently the dead woman was also infected with the same mutated parvo virus as our wolves.” Cassidy’s mind began to tick off solutions as to how this could possibly happen. “I thought that media stuff linking the death of that woman to the wolves was nothing more than a fabricated tie-in to trump up more charges against me.”
Steve paced in a tight circle. “Parvo isn’t transferable to humans, is it?”
Cassidy shook her head. “No. Fifth Disease is the human version of parvo, and it’s relatively harmless.” Standing, she followed him and paced in her own tight circle.
Jake furrowed his brow. “That woman had a rash on her upper chest. Isn’t that indicative of Fifth Disease?”
Cassidy stopped mid-stride. She felt nauseated. “We’re not talking parvo or Fifth Disease. This virus is a blend of the two of them with an added ability to mutate the thickness of blood.” Glancing at Jake, she noted her own fear mirrored in his face. “This is more than a wolf version of the bird flu and definitely supports a bioterrorism theory.”
“Explain,” he said.
She walked over to the coffee table and pulled over a pad of paper. Drawing a stick figure of a man and a dog she penciled in a vertical line beneath the human body. “Although both versions of parvo require dividing cells to reproduce, when Fifth Disease attacks a human body it latches onto cells found in your skin or bone marrow. There are specific proteins on the surface of the virus that determine what it can attack.”
Cassidy flipped the sheet of paper around so that everyone had a clear vision of the diagram. “Now, parvo attacks here.” She drew a circle around the intestinal tract zone of the stick dog. “As well as the animal’s immune system.” Sitting back and thinking, Cassidy chewed on her lower lip. “In other words, parvo goes after immune and intestinal systems and Fifth Disease targets areas making red blood cells.”
“This ability of the virus to attack both human and canine cells couldn’t have happened naturally?” Jake asked, staring at her sheet of paper.
Cassidy shook her head. “No way. This is laboratory-induced mutation. These two viruses are as different as night and day. They couldn’t mutate into one without help.”
“Dehydration, intestinal damage, and rashes can be explained as symptoms of either parvo or Fifth Disease, but what about the blood?”
Fear of the unknown knotted Cassidy’s stomach. “I don’t know, Jake. I honestly don’t know.”
CHAPTER 24
BALANCING A BAG OF GROCERIES ON HIS KNEE, EDWARD UN-locked his hotel room door. He shuffled inside, ready to settle on the bed and catch up on world news. His shoes discarded and clothes loosened, he scooted onto the mattress and aimed the remote at the TV.
It felt like weeks rather than a day since his altercation with Jason. He reached onto the table beside the bed and pulled his laptop close, flipping the lid open. Edward verified the phone line hadn’t loosened then clicked onto the Internet. With a few keystrokes he reassured himself that his flight to Richmond was still on schedule for first thing in the morning.
Glancing at the television set, he felt his stomach flip over at the familiar scene. A young newscaster with slicked-back hair and high-heeled shoes stood in front of Old Faithful, a gathering of people behind her waving at the camera. The geyser erupted and she smiled into the lens, beginning her report.
Edward stared at the screen, ignoring the pain that squeezed his chest. His ears buzzed, the noise blocking the sound of the television set. All his carefully laid plans disintegrated into a pile of worthless schedules and intent. Smashing his fist into the bag of chips, he fought against the urge to weep.
He glanced at the television set and turned the volume up a notch. They were giving a brief bio on the zoologist they insisted released a biological weapon into Yellowstone. Edward reached for a notepad and jotted down her name. There must be a damn good reason Dr. Cassidy Lowell suddenly became the perpetrator of CPV-19, and he was going to figure it out.
“Cassidy Lowell,” he said, tapping the computer screen, “you will be my bargaining chip.”
Nick Fowler approached the cottage, glancing around for any signs of life. He snatched a crumpled piece of note paper from his back pocket and verified he had the right address. It didn’t make sense.
He’d imagined Edward Fiske’s laboratory would be housed in a large facility. But what stood before him was nothing more than a disheveled cottage surrounded by small, decaying buildings. The grass surrounding the ext
erior of the house was overgrown and tangled with weeds, sprouting a foot high against the edge of the front porch. He slowly turned in a circle and examined the layout of the land. A wide stretch of rough cut lawn, brown and crisp from lack of rain, spread to the left of the house and slanted downward disappearing behind a small slope.
The only thing that sparkled and shined was the lazy bend of the Yellowstone River. It glittered against the back of the house like a twinkling jewel. The air smelled fresh and clean except for the faint tinge of smoke from the mountains, an unfamiliar scent to a man who’d spent the better part of his younger years neck high in ’Nam marshes that seethed with rats, snakes, and the devil-only-knew what else beneath its bloody water.
Bodies, swollen and mangled, were the fragrance Nick preferred. To hell with nature and cleanliness.
Where the fuck was Jason?
Nick impatiently stomped around the cottage, peering in windows and banging on doors.
He stepped onto the rickety front porch and called Jason’s name. No answer. He turned the knob on the door and entered the small house. He didn’t bother absorbing his surroundings; he didn’t care. A few paces later, he was in the center of a tiny kitchen with blue and gold wallpaper and yellowed linoleum.
He swore, did an about face, and strode back to the front porch. Squinting against the sun, Nick noted a small brick building and log cabin off to the left. He crossed the grass and made his way through a patch of trees until he stood before the brick structure. It was about five feet in height and had a two-foot metal door.
Opening the door, Nick peered inside. There was nothing but a large pile of ashes. Must be some sort of incinerator. He slammed the door shut and leaned against the structure. Where the hell was the lab tech?
Nick bent down to pluck a blade of sweet grass from the ground. Focusing his eyes on an irregular pattern on the lawn, he crouched and ruffled the spiky leaves. There were patches and large blotches of crusted brown material splattered in a haphazard fashion.
Blood from the good doctor.
Here was the proof the tech at least completed his assignment before performing his vanishing act. Standing, he sighed and scanned his surroundings. Heading toward the dilapidated log cabin, Nick cursed in annoyance.
Fucking amateurs.
He pushed open the door and entered the log cabin. A light shone brightly from an opening in the floor. Nick pulled his gun from its halter and approached the hole cautiously, calling Jason’s name. All he heard in return was the echo of his own voice.
The dank smell of the upper room tickled his nose, and he muffled a sneeze. He tested the metal stairs for soundness, then climbed down into the lighted room below.
“Well, I’ll be damned.” Nick spun in a circle, absorbing the laboratory. He moved along the counters, opening and shutting drawers and cabinets. The place was spotless. He couldn’t find any evidence of the CPV-19 production. Nothing.
Climbing back up the stairs, Nick made his way outside and down the path to the incinerator. He glanced toward the river, noting a trail of broken grass. Something metal flickered in the sunlight. Walking over, he bent and picked up a cell phone. With a flip of his wrist it opened and displayed a number.
“Fuck.”
It was the same number he’d been calling all morning. Jason’s number.
He opened his own phone and dialed. Shaking his head, he flung Jason’s phone into the air. This assignment couldn’t get any more screwed.
“Yes?” Cole answered.
Nick took a quick breath. “There’s been a complication.”
“Like what?”
“There’s no one here at the lab. I found dried blood and signs of a body being dragged to the river. The lab assistant’s cell phone has been discarded on that same path. The lab is spotless. Shit. There’s no sign of life whatsoever or of CPV-19.” He waited and prayed none of this would be blamed on him.
“That is a bit of a complication. Do you think Fiske is still alive?”
“His car isn’t here, and Jason’s is. So, yeah, I think Fiske is among the walking.”
There was silence. “The lab assistant isn’t smart enough to double cross us. Let’s assume that the good doctor turned the tables on his demise and is on the run. I’ll track him from here. I want you to destroy everything there.”
Nick frowned. “Why? No one knows this place exists.”
“And I want to keep it that way. Make sure there’s absolutely no evidence of that underground laboratory left behind.”
Nick blew out a mouthful of air. “That’s no easy feat.”
“That’s why we pay you the big bucks.”
Fucking jerk. He flipped the phone shut and went to scrutinize the laboratory. How the hell was he going to destroy it? He sniffed and smelled the smoke from forest fires too far away to do any damage. A thought crossed his mind and his lips curled upward. He’d been trained to use his surroundings as a weapon, and that’s exactly what he intended on doing now.
Beauty.
It abounded in the endless flowing waters of Yellowstone River. Sun glittered in fairy wings of diamonds upon its surface, causing an unexpected pang of longing within Cassidy. She craved a lazy day by the river and the security of her mother’s voice.
Jake stepped into her line of vision, another beautiful sight. He spoke rapidly into his cell phone. His eyes roamed everywhere, searching for danger. They rested a beat too long on her, and her pulse did an invisible Irish jig.
Cassidy wanted to snap her blinders back in place. She desired to return to a life that revolved solely around work and held her heart and emotions at arm’s length.
But that choice was no longer hers. Instead, a kaleidoscope of longing for a life she’d never attain threatened her normal stoic resolve.
Jake approached, studying his compass and consulting the sunlight and lay of the land. “We have about a one-mile hike to reach the edge of NWP’s holdings.”
“I think I can handle that.”
“We’ll be there before the sun sets.”
Cassidy picked up a canvas backpack that rested at her feet. “What’s Steve doing?” Disappointment and an edge of uncertainty still rankled her after watching Steve fly off into the distance. His affiliation with Black Stripe grated and irritated what she’d considered the most solid relationship she’d ever been a part of.
“I’ve sent him to confiscate the transport plane and brief the rest of the pod.”
She studied his face. Her trust still less than comfortable. “You’re pretty confident he won’t be arrested.”
“Sunshine, he’ll never be seen.” Jake headed toward the riverbank. “Time to find a piece of the puzzle.”
Cassidy followed his path. She had to admit she liked him, definitely too much for her own comfort. Somewhere in the past two days he’d found a way past her carefully placed emotional barriers and snuck in, rooting himself firmly beneath her skin. Beneath his brash and cocky persona, Jake was smart, funny, and intuitive … a dangerous composition of qualities that enticed Cassidy.
But he’d deceived her. “Thank God I didn’t sleep with him.”
Jake turned around, slowing his pace and walking backwards. “Excuse me?”
Cassidy blushed and shook her head. “Talking to myself again, Captain.”
He narrowed his eyes at her use of his military rank title, then spun on his heels and resumed their previous pace. Cassidy grinned. She’d irritate him. Good. They moved quietly, settling into a comfortable silence. The sun filtered through the trees on their right, burning the top of her head.
Jake paused, checked the compass, and dropped his backpack on the ground. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. His T-shirt was soaked in sweat, the heat of the afternoon making conditions uncomfortable. Cassidy averted her eyes and attempted to ignore how his muscles rippled beneath the clinging cotton. “We’re almost there. Just around that bend is the edge of the homestead.”
“This could be a wild goose chase.”
She sighed and tried to balance her emotions. “I mean, what do we honestly expect to find?” Cassidy wanted answers, but it felt as if they were simply chasing a whisper of hope.
Jake squeezed her shoulder and offered her a lopsided grin. “A miracle?”
She rolled her eyes, stretched, and inhaled. The scent of cool water drifted off the river. “Let’s make our way around that bend, then.” Ahead of them was a small bank of thick grass that swept around a cut in the river.
They moved forward and rounded the bend; before them lay a large clearing with an old farmhouse to the left and a number of dilapidated outbuildings toward the edge of the woods. Cassidy squinted and touched Jake’s shoulder. She pointed toward the side of one of the outbuildings. A shadow moved.
Nick Fowler crouched behind the cabin and watched Jake Anderson jog around the bend. A thin line of sweat dripped down his cheek, and he wiped it on the edge of his shirt. The afternoon had been long and arduous, and the appearance of Anderson and Blondie complicated an already unbalanced agenda. First Fiske’s vanishing act and now this surprise visit. The day continued to spiral down into another level of hell.
He flipped open his phone and called Cole. “They’re here.”
“Who?”
“Anderson and that girl.”
Silence. Nick tapped his foot and twisted a small wire between his forefinger and thumb. He could hear a scratching noise through the line and figured Cole was scribbling as he threaded this recent intrusion through his mind. “They can be eliminated.”
He lifted his hands toward the sky, then clasped them together. “You sure?”
“Yes. The media’s been alerted and her reputation sullied. At this stage of the game, anything she might submit to OPEC would be disregarded as petty.”
Nick cursed himself for possibly ruining his chances at playing but decided he’d rather be upfront than face the repercussions later. “I haven’t found that geological survey you wanted.”
“Don’t snuff before you have it; is that clear?” A deep rumble of laughter filtered through Nick’s phone. “Once that’s done, shut the bitch up and get back here.”
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