Dark Cure: A Covid Thriller (Dark Plague Book 1)

by Bradley West

  chapter thirty-two

  TARGET ACQUISITION

  Tuesday, July 14: Kentfield and Oakland, California, morning

  Sal downloaded the architects’ schematics from a 2008 school renovation project, printed it out and emailed himself the files. He noted the nearest police station was about a mile away and wondered if anyone was still on duty.

  By eight a.m., Sal had laid out his first wilted kale and sundried tomato frittata garnished with thyme from the garden and a second batch firming up in the oven. While Tina introduced herself and Carla caught up with Barb and Greg, Sal checked his inbox. Yesterday, Travis had mustered the strength to email Arkar, repeating Sal’s offer of safe passage and a new life in Canada. Sal replied and reconfirmed that message, though he hadn’t the foggiest idea how that would work in practice. Melvin touched base to report that Robert and Tien were quick studies with small-arms dry firing drills. What could they do to help from South San Francisco? Sal reiterated that the top priority was the retrieval of Jaime’s truck in the Mission, with the next stop Oakland before they departed for good. For now, rest and pack up all the food and survival supplies Melvin owned: they’d be moving back into the city only after dark.

  As for Sal’s other messages, a Dr. Holland at Lawrence Livermore Laboratories had left a voicemail warning that severe federal penalties applied to those who harbored or abetted fugitives. That one he deleted without a second thought. On the good news front, the two million dollars in a cash home equity loan awaited collection at Wells Fargo’s local branch.

  A peek into the convalescents’ rooms showed that Greg was awake while Pat slept under Barb’s drowsy eye. Jaime helped Greg walk with crutches, and Sal gathered the group in the TV room where Ryder lay in bed. “We have lots to do and not much time. It’s no longer safe for anyone in the Bay Area, even here in Marin. The battle that we saw on the bridge last night is just the beginning. People who have run out of food and fuel have fled Covid to scavenge in wealthier neighborhoods.

  “Meanwhile, Carla told us that the Federal Government believes the virus fatality rate could be ninety-nine percent. Her team and she were held hostage to work on the vaccine that my old company developed, and a separate experimental treatment which uses survivors’ plasma and antibodies. The details sound like Nazi death camp medical experiments. Carla and Tina have two colleagues hidden in South San Francisco at the home of a new ally, Melvin Robinson. Their fourth colleague, Flora, was murdered last night. Melvin, Robert and Tien will collect the truck full of lab equipment and meet us on the road.”

  “That bastard cracked Mom’s skull,” Barb said. “How can you call him an ally?”

  “I know how it sounds, but Sal’s right,” Jaime said. “Melvin’s on our side. You have to trust us on this.” Barb looked at Jaime with fury and retreated out of sight.

  “Two hours ago, I found an address on a piece of paper mixed in with the personal effects of Travis’ murdered friend, Maung,” Sal continued. “It’s a receipt for food delivered to a high school in Oakland. It’s a longshot, but the kidnappers may have stolen food from the school or could even be hiding there. With all that we have going on, there’s no one to spare. I’ll check it out, and if I see something, I’ll call you. Until I can confirm Steph and Tyson are there, it’s not worth the time and risk to send anyone else.”

  “That receipt could have come from anywhere,” Jaime said. “Call the Oakland police and have them look.”

  “I’m not sure there will be anyone at the station, and if so, whether they have men to spare,” Sal said. “Remember, Burns’ people have explosives. I can see an exhausted officer hit a boobytrap tripwire or otherwise get Steph and Tyson killed. Once anyone approaches that school, the kidnappers will move, and we’ll lose our last chance to find them. But there may be another way.”

  “If there’s any chance that Stephanie and Tyson are there, we have to go,” Greg said from his perch at the end of Travis’ sofa bed. “My leg feels better. I can drive and stand guard.”

  “My fever broke overnight, thanks to Tina,” Travis said. “I want in.”

  “You’re so weak you couldn’t pee just now without my help,” Carla said. “You aren’t going anywhere.”

  “I pretended because I was lonely and wanted attention.”

  “If I wanted to handle button mushrooms, Whole Foods has a better selection,” she retorted. Several in the audience laughed for the first time in a long while.

  Sal reasserted command. “Before we hear more about Travis’ mushroom, I found something on the dark web. One of the online drug markets has an advertisement for a Covid-20 treatment and Fraser Burns appears in two recorded clips that showed him infected and then cured. The videos confirm Melvin Robinson’s explanation for why they targeted Stephanie: They’ll use her blood and maybe Tyson’s as the sources of their treatment. I replied anonymously and offered double—two hundred thousand dollars’ worth of Bitcoin—for a single dose, but only if it’s delivered today. I claimed to be able to obtain military clearance to land my private jet at any airfield in the U.S. and asked for pickup instructions and transfer details.”

  “We don’t have a plane or airport clearance,” Jaime said. “What’s the angle?”

  “I’ll deposit Bitcoin to their account, and they’ll name a nearby airfield for the pickup, so there’s no need to charter a plane. Instead, we can send a person they don’t know to collect the dose. We’ll have other people stake out the airport and follow the kidnappers back to their base. That’s a surer path to Steph and Tyson, but only if Burns responds that they can do it today.”

  “Why today?” Greg asked. “Tomorrow should be soon enough.”

  “My strong assumption is that law and order has collapsed. We have a half a million-dollar RV that is ready for pickup at lunchtime and another one under negotiation. By this time tomorrow we might not be able to protect our lives or property. The mob or even our neighbors will fight us for resources: It’s life and death.”

  “It’s not that bad,” Jaime said. “I have a half-dozen long guns and thousands of rounds of ammo in your garage. Me and Travis can hold off anyone coming up that road.”

  “Until night and then what?” Sal replied. “But let’s not split hairs: I agree that we need you both here. Remember that you are the chief logistics officer of our caravan and those chores take money and time. Greg, after we wrap up, I need you to write up a temporary power of attorney that allows Barb to pick up two million dollars of cash held in my name at Wells Fargo in Corte Madera. Jaime should ride shotgun until the money’s in our hands. Then we need to spend as much of it as we can on vehicles, food, fuel, and other supplies.”

  “Sal, you stay here and handle that,” Jaime said. “Travis can protect the house. Let me check out the high school or the airfield. I can handle whatever happens a lot better than you.”

  “I appreciate your offer, but you’ll be more valuable to the family if you help lead them into Canada. We can’t afford to lose any of the rest of you. It’s my fault that Steph and Tyson are captives, and it’s my responsibility to free them. I’ll call for backup when I locate them and that’s final.”

  “And what if you don’t find them?” Carla asked. “We won’t leave without you.”

  “I’ll keep looking. Burns is greedy and will surely agree to sell a dose for double the asking price. I’ll track them down, and we’ll catch up to the convoy. After all, I know where we’re headed: I’m the one who bought Thunderdome in the first place.”

  “A suicide mission to rescue Steph and Tyson accomplishes nothing,” said Barb, who had been eavesdropping from the living room. “It’s just selfish self-pity. If we really want Steph and Tyson back, then everyone must be involved.”

  A chorus of approvals drowned out Sal’s objections. The front doorbell rang and killed the conversation. Jaime reached into his holster and stood in the entryway while Sal readied to open the door on his signal. From the front bedroom window came Barb’s voice: “It’s
a bunch of Asians led by a man with a machine gun.”

  “That’ll be Arkar,” Travis said from the sofa bed. “Don’t shoot him, for fuck’s sake.”

  Arkar handed Sal a plastic bag full of cellphone fragments and said, “Five in here. Travis said you have extras?”

  Sal walked their new guests around to the rear deck and through the decontamination and hygiene routines. Tina took swabs and ran the Covid tests. Sal talked them through the family sanitation protocol and handed out new masks. Tina gave the all-clear in twenty minutes, and they welcomed the six Burmese Americans inside for a third frittata made with cubed onions and potatoes, and the last of their eggs.

  Arkar introduced his wife Zarni and son Yonten, and Maung’s family to the Maggio clan. They’d set out last night and taken a long route on surface roads. Maung’s widow, Chesa, had driven while Arkar rode shotgun. The police presence was negligible, but there were pockets of armed men looking to seize vehicles. He had to shoot aggressors twice and had drawn inaccurate fire several times. Carla and Travis’ bags were strapped to the roof of Arkar’s Telluride and both families were eager to help in any way possible.

  Six more souls to save weighed on Sal’s mind. The group’s determination to recover Steph and Tyson was uplifting, but didn’t change the urgent need to act. He and Jaime walked into the TV room to talk with Travis and Carla.

  “We need everyone to be on the road by sundown today,” Sal began. “That part’s non-negotiable. I’m open to anything else you three might suggest.”

  * * * * *

  Fraser Burns knew what the end felt like because Covid-20 promised certain death. Whatever relief that baby’s blood had supplied had worn off. He had an intense fever along with the dry cough, and bed-sweats and delirium had plagued him all night. Lindy’s murder had haunted his dreams as the Benz rolled into the ravine time and time again. Awaking early, he’d gulped a half-gallon of water and taken painkillers. But those just staved off the inevitable unless he received a purer version of the Dark Cure than that newborn’s raw blood. All the while, Katerina and Muller were conniving to cut him out of his share and leave him to die.

  Burns checked the dark web and saw an incredible offer of two hundred thousand dollars of Bitcoin for one dose, deliverable today. That posed a problem because Burns had already sold three nonexistent vials to other buyers for fifty thousand each. Damn, he was tired, but that offer didn’t ring true. Every other correspondent wanted two things: proof of efficacy and a lower price. “Double Lucky” wanted a dosage today and offered twice the asking price, no questions asked. A check online confirmed that U.S. airspace was closed to all non-military aircraft, so the buyer’s claim that he had landing permission was unlikely to be true . . . unless Double Lucky was the government. In that case, anyone who showed up at the airfield would be arrested by the FBI . . . which might be a way to rid himself of Muller. Hmm.

  Yet something else in the message was peculiar. He navigated back to Tox and took a second look. There were two grammatical errors, the confusion of “their” for “they’re” plus the insertion of a space before a colon. The U.S. government had plenty of people who could make those mistakes, but for the past three years he’d seen them every month in Sal Maggio’s internal reports. Sal Maggio was Double Lucky. Sal cared little for the cure, but he’d pay up to be able to snatch or follow anyone who showed up at a Bay Area airport.

  Though he couldn’t be sure, he could find out in a hurry. Burns lurched out of the lounge and shuffled down the darkened hallway to the other break room where that twisted pair had their love nest. He passed Horne, who was limping in the other direction, phone flashlight bobbing in an exaggerated motion as he labored against the pain of his crushed testicle. “Have you seen Katerina?” Burns asked the cripple.

  “Yeah, she’s in the science lab.” A minute later, a more mobile Shuckies quickly confirmed Katerina’s location and darted past, giving Burns a wide berth as the Englishman coughed into his mask and steadied himself against a bank of lockers.

  Katerina arranged equipment while the baby waved his arms and legs from a towel on top of a lab bench. She looked up as Burns stumbled through the doorway. “Get the fuck out of here! You’ll contaminate the lab. This is a sterile environment.”

  Burns took a step back into the hallway. “We need to talk. I will give you all my dark web information, but only once I receive an injection of the purified antibodies you’re synthesizing. I’ve relapsed and need the full cure, not just raw blood.”

  “I’m two days away from anything usable. What if you don’t last that long?”

  “Then you’ll have to start the sales campaign over with bad reviews as the stiffed buyers won’t be happy. I’ll lie down and rest. When I wake up, I want to move into Stephanie’s room as she’s the only immune adult. Let her keep me alive until you have the plasma treatment.”

  “Why would she agree?”

  “Because I’ll bring her the baby. As long as she cares for me, the baby can stay in her room.” Burns coughed hard again and his head felt like it would cleave in two.

  “I’ll discuss it with Rolf. While you’re still able, you’d better write down whatever we need to sell the treatment and access our funds.”

  “I’ve already loaded it all onto an encrypted thumb drive. All you need is the password which I’ve not written down.” Burns walked next door where he found the door to Stephanie’s classroom locked. He turned around and passed the science lab as Katerina came to the doorway. “You picked the wrong side,” is all he said before she shut the door with a bang.

  * * * * *

  Muller was already in a foul mood when he stomped toward the lab with a thermos of coffee and buttered bagels for his latest infatuation and business partner. Where did Horne get off trying to sever their blood bag’s big toes? And who were Shuckies and Katerina to threaten to kill Bomber without prior permission? If this operation succeeded, it would be because of strong leadership. He swallowed his ire as he entered the room: No way he’d get more action tonight if he pissed Katerina off.

  She looked up and said, “We have problems. Shut the door and sit down.”

  Muller carried the tray to the other end of the room where they could speak over the squalling infant. “I already heard from Horne and Shuckies. That’s unacceptable and—”

  “Forget them. Shuckies is sweet on the woman and will protect her. Horne is a liability, but I promised him and Shuckies each five percent of profits and bought the peace.”

  “You did what?”

  “Relax, anyone dumb enough to accept a profit interest in a dark web deal is someone we’ll never have to pay in full. The bigger issue is that Burns has relapsed, and he wants the first dose as his price for handing over the sales and banking information. I told him it would take two days to derive the first batch, but in truth I could have it ready by tomorrow afternoon if I start straight off with the mother’s blood. He’s also suggested that we use our captive as his nurse and wants to move into her room along with her baby. She’s immune and so long as we guard them both I don’t see the harm, but he’s up to no good.”

  Muller let it all soak in and took a swig of coffee. “I was up late last night and hacked Burns’ Wi-Fi links to the dark web. Unfortunately, I couldn’t discover his passwords, but I found our advertisement on Pirate Bay. I’ll install a keylogger on his laptop later today, and that will give us the passwords. Once we have those, bye-bye, Burns.”

  Katerina’s eyes sparkled as she gazed at Muller. “That makes it a fifty-fifty split. Rolf, we could have some wild times with a hundred million each. But first, clear that breakfast tray and don’t you ever walk uninvited into this lab again. I need to dump that fucking newborn with its mother, disinfect the room again, and start the centrifuges with the scarecrow’s blood and hope nothing goes wrong.”

  * * * * *

  The four leaders spent twenty minutes outlining their action plans. Travis would be responsible for homeland security, assisted by
Greg. He would set up his command post from a sofa parked on the front portico. With one of Jaime’s sniper rifles at his side and an elevated field of fire, unwanted visitors would receive a long range welcome. Carla would search for vaccine ingredients and mastermind the vehicle packing, with Chesa as forewoman overseeing the Burmese youths. Tina would tend to the wounded and make an inventory of medical supplies. Jaime and Barb would pack for Greg, Steph and themselves and collect the bulk food order. They would deal with police via the Detective Cruz letter, payoffs, or force of arms.

  Sal now had Arkar at his side, a development that gave him hope he might yet see Stephanie again and survive the day. Travis had provided a thumbnail sketch of the 5'4" forty-something’s professional resume. He’d started in Burma’s regular army and graduated to the commandos, where he’d served with distinction. Some years ago, as a reward for gallantry in battle against Karen rebels, a general in the junta thought he would be the right sort of chap to look after the ruling clique’s northern California relatives and properties. Travis had met Maung and Arkar back in 2016 and told Sal that he’d never served with finer soldiers, “Pretty much a cross between Gurkhas and Rangers, and when I started Ride Out Security, they were my first two hires.” Travis’ endorsement plus their stellar performance at Niven Park was more than enough to earn Sal’s confidence.

  Before he left, Sal checked his Tox messages encrypted within Tor. “LifeSaver” had replied, but what he wrote was a shock. I know who you are. I will tell you where to find them, but in return I must receive Jacobs’ vaccine. Once that happens, I will release mother and child and disappear. Do you agree to my terms? F. Sal typed his response: Provide proof of life for both and tell me how many gunmen there are and where their deployed, and you have a deal.

  Sal walked out into the living room. “Fraser Burns reached out and he will tell us where Stephanie and Tyson are in return for the last of the vaccine. I said he had a deal, subject to proof of life. Be ready to drive north for good within two hours of whenever we pick up the motorhome this afternoon.”