Perimeter

by M. A. Rothman

  “You’re thinking this was someone in the IC? Someone with high-level access?” asked Deputy Director Sheila Franks. She was the number two at the FBI, just behind the director himself. She had a reputation for being brilliant, intense, and no-nonsense.

  Jeff nodded. “It has to be. But it also seems to be a black op. I’ve been searching for whoever’s running it for months, and I’ve hit dead ends at every turn.”

  “Did you check with the Firm?” she asked.

  “British intelligence has nothing on any of this. We’ve collected some data through our leak to INTERPOL, but so far, nothing panned out. Until today. Thanks to the files given to Agent Carrington, we now have a lot more to work with. But I’ll let Carrington take it from here.”

  Jeff sat down, and Nate cleared his throat. He felt the deputy director staring intensely at him.

  He projected the first page of his presentation. “The records on the device have enabled us to assemble a basic history of the operation, which was given a compartment code of DRWN.

  “Project DRWN has been a longstanding effort to investigate how genetic engineering could advance certain combat scenarios. Assets with the appropriate background were placed in biomedical research firms in the hopes of extracting private industry technology to advance our military. AgriMed’s research on evolutionary genetic simulations was among DRWN’s targets—and when DRWN successfully managed to exfiltrate enough data from AgriMed to be able to duplicate that research on their own, that’s when a number of real-world experiments began to come to our attention.

  “Using the appropriated research, research efforts were initiated to genetically engineer canines that could fight alongside soldiers. This phase of the project was canceled due to issues associated with the inability to control the test subjects.

  “The next phase involved advanced research into genetically modifying avian species to create aggressive flocking behaviors and enabling the imprinting of an enemy target for controlled attacks.”

  “Who the hell authorizes this kind of nonsense?” Franks snapped. “Sorry, go on.”

  Nate pressed the space bar and spoke to the bulleted points on the page. “That phase was shut down when an accident occurred.” He pointed up at the screen. “I was personally called in to investigate the aftermath of the avian research. A couple of civilians stumbled upon the remote island where the research was being done. And rather than risk exposure, whoever was running this show simply napalmed the entire island. My investigation of the incident suggested that there may be both CIA as well as German intelligence involved.”

  “Madam Director,” Jeff said, “I should note that we investigated both of those avenues thoroughly. We got nowhere with the CIA—denials across the board. As to German intelligence, I presented a surveillance request to the FISA court, and was denied.”

  Franks nodded. “Understood.” She motioned for Nate to continue.

  He moved to his next slide. “The records indicate that after the avian incident, there were efforts to shut down the entire DRWN project, but by that time it seems that some of those involved had already gone rogue in pursuit of so-called ‘humanitarian’ ends. That is to say, elements of this genetic research made its way into human trials. To make matters worse, the VA was one of the primary domestic avenues for the unauthorized clinical trials.”

  The deputy director closed her eyes and her face reddened a bit. “Go on, Carrington, I’m listening. I’m just trying to imagine what kind of creatures would experiment on our veterans.”

  Nate had wondered the same thing.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Nate advanced the slide. “The human trials were conducted only on terminal patients, and the good news, if there is any, is that some of these experiments may in fact have benefited the trial participants. After that, the trials expanded beyond our borders. We know of three treatment locations in South America and one in London.

  “Unfortunately, it seems that the clinical protocols weren’t as strictly controlled as they should have been. In two locations, one in Nevada and one in Argentina, there were accidents that resulted in the deaths of both humans and livestock. I was called in to both locations, and my team gathered forensic data.

  “To better understand what happened, we then recruited the physician responsible for the initial AgriMed research that had been stolen. He’s helped us to triage what we’re up against. And I’m sorry to say, it’s grim.”

  Nate advanced the slide. The next one featured a photo of the devastation in Buenos Aires. “The medicine in these trials was mixed with ordinary water, and participants drank the medicated water several times a day. In both of the fatal incidents, this treated water was fed to some pregnant animals, evidently because they’d been sick. The animals received no deleterious effects from the medicine, but when they gave birth, their calves were toxic.”

  “Toxic? What do you mean?” Sheila asked. Her lips were pressed together so tightly they looked like two horizontal lines.

  “Well, as soon as they were born, every living thing nearby fell over and died. In Nevada, nearly a hundred head of cattle perished, along with one veterinarian and two first responders. In Argentina, over a dozen men died, along with over a thousand animals. The Argentine Federal Police asked through military back channels for assistance, and an SF team was sent to help with disposal. I lead a small team to do the forensic analysis.”

  Franks clacked her fingernails on the conference room table. “So, if a pregnant cow drinks this water and gives birth to a monster that kills everything around it, what happens if a pregnant woman drinks the same water?”

  “That’s the big concern, ma’am,” Jeff said. “And it’s a real concern we need to follow up on. Thanks to this encrypted drive, Agent Carrington has been able to compile a list of one hundred forty-three patients who have been treated with this medicine. Names and addresses. Forty-five of them are in the US. The rest are in South America or the UK.”

  Franks slammed her fist on the table and shook her head. “This is a fucking nightmare. I’ll talk to the director, but this’ll probably have to get the president’s attention.” She turned to Jeff and said, “We may end up having to quarantine US citizens as well as foreign nationals for something the IC is responsible for. Look into procedures. And expand that list to families, at a minimum. Just in case someone else in the household infected themselves with this so-called ‘medicine.’”

  “Understood, ma’am,” Jeff said. “My team will plan out the logistics. We’ll be ready to roll on your word.”

  Sheila Franks shook her head as she rose and moved to the door. “This will certainly not be on my word or the director’s word. If this shit goes down, it’s the president’s call. We clear?”

  “Crystal, ma’am.”

  As the meeting broke up, Nate pulled Jeff aside. “This is going to get ugly, isn’t it?”

  “More than you realize. I didn’t have a chance to grab you before the meeting, but I did some cross-checking on that patient list. A good half dozen of them have been killed by poison in the last few months.”

  “Germans?” Nate asked.

  “That’s what I need you to find out.”

  ###

  Megan was washing the dishes when a knock sounded on the door.

  “I got it,” Frank called from the living room.

  She finished washing the pot she had in her hands, then turned off the faucet and went to see who had arrived. What she found was two men from the sheriff’s office in her living room, along with two men in FBI windbreakers.

  Frank put his arms up as one of the officers removed the gun from his holster.

  “Frank,” she said, panicked, “what’s going on?”

  “It’s nothing, honey.” Frank’s voice was calm. “It’s something about the VA cancer treatment is all.”

  “Did you tell them that that damned box was stolen?” Megan’s heart thudded loudly in her chest.

  “Honey, I don�
�t think it’s about that.”

  One of the FBI agents ran an instrument across Frank’s forehead. “One hundred and one point five.” He then walked over to Megan. “Mrs. O’Reilly, we need to take your temperature as well. Don’t worry, this is just routine.” Without waiting for her to give permission, he ran the smooth instrument across her forehead. “Ninety-eight point six.”

  Megan walked over to Frank and held his arm. She didn’t like this one bit. “Why are you taking our temperature? What’s going on?”

  The other FBI agent gave her a business card. “Mr. and Mrs. O’Reilly, we have orders to take in for observation any patients from the clinical trial Mr. O’Reilly participated in.”

  Megan’s breath caught in her chest.

  Frank rubbed her back reassuringly. “I’m assuming this is an overnight thing?”

  “Yes, sir. You should pack a suitcase. We’ll be taking you to an observation facility not far away.”

  “But Frank—”

  “Shh, it’s okay, honey. Can you help me with the suitcase?”

  Megan turned to the agents. “How many days should he pack for?”

  The agents glanced at each other. “Three days for now. We’re not yet exactly sure.”

  “And if he needs more clothes, I’ll be able to visit him?” Megan asked.

  “Ma’am, I’m sorry to say I don’t know at this time. We just found out about this a few hours ago. Please call me tomorrow at the number on the card I gave you. I should know more by then.”

  Frank motioned her toward their bedroom. “Honey, let’s just get this over with.”

  Megan studied his face. He was worried, but trying not to let her know. She pulled him down for a quick kiss. “You’re fine, and when you get back, I’ll make you something special.”

  Frank kissed her on the top of her head, like he always did when he was trying to make her feel better.

  Pulling him by his arm, Megan led him to the back bedroom and said, “Let’s get you packed.”

  She couldn’t help but notice how one of the FBI agents followed them down the hallway and quietly observed as she helped pack Frank’s suitcase.

  ###

  As the other students in the Blommer Science Library began to file toward the exit, Kathy put her laptop in her backpack, slung it over her shoulder, and followed them down the stairs. It was eight p.m., and she’d been studying for almost the entire day.

  Just as she exited the building, two people in FBI windbreakers stepped in her path. “Katherine O’Reilly?”

  “Yes?” She paused and suddenly recognized the agents who’d months ago stopped her outside her dorm. “Agents Carrington and Ragheb? Is there something you need?”

  Carrington motioned toward the building Kathy had just left. “Mind if we go inside? It would be better if we talk in private.”

  “Sure.” Kathy swiped her badge at the entrance to the Reiss Science Building and led the agents to an open room. As she took a seat, she noticed the two agents looked uncomfortable.

  Agent Carrington began. “We’re here because… well, we need to take your temperature.”

  Kathy shrugged. “Okay… I guess I don’t mind that.”

  Ragheb swiped her forehead with a digital thermometer. “One hundred and one point four.”

  “Crap,” muttered Carrington.

  Kathy didn’t like the sound of that. “You don’t have to worry about me. I know I’ve got a fever, but I feel fine. What is this about?”

  Agent Carrington sat across from her. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and spoke calmly. “This is about the treatment your father had at the VA. There have been some concerns about anyone who may have been exposed to that treatment. I’m afraid we need to ask you to go under observation.”

  “But I wasn’t given any treatment,” Kathy said. “Just my dad.”

  “One of the signs of exposure is a low-grade fever. At any point did you perhaps inadvertently drink some of your father’s medicine? It would be an easy mistake since it looks just like water.”

  Kathy flashed back to that afternoon when she’d downed a glass of water that was supposed to be for her father. “I… might have, purely by accident. Wait—did you talk to my father about this? Are you observing him too? And what does that mean, observation? I already have plane tickets to go back to Nevada in two days when spring break starts.”

  “Kathy, I know this comes as an unwelcome surprise.” Carrington’s voice was calm, soothing. “We have a place set up where both you and your father can be observed. You’ll be together. We just want to keep an eye on your health.”

  Kathy sensed that she wasn’t being given a choice. “So… what do we do? Can I pack?”

  Agent Ragheb smiled. “Of course. I’ll go with you to your dorm while Agent Carrington gathers up the car.”

  Kathy stood and suddenly had an uneasy feeling in her stomach. She didn’t understand what was happening. Was something wrong with her? With her father?

  “Agent Ragheb, are you guys on the level?” Her voice cracked and she blinked away the unbidden tears.

  Ragheb came over and gave her a hug. “You’ll be fine, I promise. It’s just a precaution.”

  But deep down inside, Kathy knew it was much more than a precaution.

  ###

  Nate woke to the ringing of his phone. He grabbed it from the nightstand. “Carrington.”

  It was Jeff. “Nate, the shit’s hit the fan. I need you to roust Dr. Gutierrez.”

  “Jeff, what are you talking about? Is this about the letter you received? What’s going on?”

  “No, totally different. There’s a rural hospital in West Virginia—actually, I’ll just read off the report exactly as it came in from the McDowell County Sheriff’s Office.

  “911 emergency dispatch received a call from the Welch Community Hospital. Six dead, one physician, three nurses, and two other individuals. Sheriff’s office sent three patrol vehicles to investigate and confirm. Report of newborn infant in the operating room, alive, but two first responders are believed to be dead of unknown causes.

  “FBI agents out of Beckley responded to the reported emergency alert, and emergency transport was arranged for the newborn to the NIH’s level-4 biocontainment unit in Bethesda.

  “Final report lists seven adult males deceased, one adult female deceased. All bodies are in quarantine at the NIH’s main campus, along with the newborn.”

  Jeff paused. “Do you want to hear the kicker?”

  Nate’s insides felt hollow as he robotically said, “Sure, why the hell not.”

  “One of the dead guys was on our list. He was treated for cancer at the VA in Martinsburg, West Virginia. They were scheduled to pick him up for quarantine tomorrow.”

  “So that’s it then. It’s out there. It’s already out of our control.”

  “Let’s not jump to conclusions. We’ll see. Get Gutierrez. I’ll continue to make sure we get all the people on the list gathered up, but I need you to work with the doctor to figure out what to do with them once we have them.”

  Nate glanced at the clock on his nightstand and groaned. It was 3:30 a.m. “I’ll get right on it.”

  “Keep me posted.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  As the first sign of light peeked through the window of his concrete-walled room, Frank blinked. He was worried about Megan, but couldn’t even talk to her. The military personnel who manned the observation center claimed that there were no phones here. That struck him as total hogwash. Like calling this place a “center.” Frank recognized a military prison camp when he saw one. Swinging his legs off the cot, he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and studied his surroundings.

  His room was an eight-by-ten room with bare concrete walls. The only items of furniture were a cot and a trunk into which he’d poured the contents of his suitcase. They’d claimed all of his other personal items, like the pocketknife he always carried, and a guard had even
taken his suitcase off to some offsite storage.

  At least they hadn’t locked him in this tiny cell. Yet.

  Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he levered himself up out of his cot and left his room. The exit from the barracks-like building was down a nondescript hallway, past a dozen closed doors. Outside, the lingering smell of ash drifted in the air. That, along with the burnt appearance of the rocky soil, told Frank there must have been a fire here recently.

  He headed for the latrine, which was just a row of port-a-potties near the fence line. The fence itself was twelve feet tall with barbed wire all along the top.

  Yep, this definitely wasn’t a clinical “observation center.”

  Opening the door to the nearest toilet, which was thankfully well-maintained, Frank knew one thing for certain.

  This was a prison.

  ###

  When Kathy landed in Vegas, an FBI agent met her at the gate and escorted her to the pickup area.

  “Don’t we need to go to baggage claim?” Kathy asked. “I have a suitcase with all my stuff.”

  The man’s eyes remained hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses, and his face was expressionless. “We’ll take care of your bag, ma’am. It’s been marked and will be with the first set of bags off the plane, and someone will put it on the bus before we go.”

  They waited for “the bus” just outside the main terminal at McCarran airport. She stood with the agent never more than six feet away from her and she couldn’t help but feel anxious. As she stood in the hot, dry air, she tried calling home, but couldn’t get a signal. That worried her—though it was probably nothing.

  A bus pulled up in front of them, and the agent said, “This’ll be for you.” It had no markings, the windows were all blacked out, and the license plate was government-issued. None of which eased her worries.

  The door opened, and the agent ushered her aboard. Goose bumps rose on her skin as the cool of the air conditioning greeted her. A handful of other people were already aboard, and Kathy sensed a general feeling of bewilderment among them.