Warning Shot (Protectors At Heart Book 3)

by Jenna Kernan

  He waited in the silence that followed as she laced her fingers together and leaned forward until her forearms rested on her knees. Then she stared at the fire as it caught. He had time to add both logs to the blaze and return to his seat before she spoke.

  “Yes, I think you deserve that. There was some trouble this summer—July—in the Adirondacks just south of here and in the city of Saratoga Springs.” Her brows went up and she looked to him.

  He nodded. “I know the area.” He’d even gambled at the thoroughbred track a time or two in August.

  “There was a CIA operative there. Apparently, he was collecting intel from a foreign agent on US soil, which breaks about fifty rules that I can think of. Regardless, the meet was made at Fort Ticonderoga and he retrieved a thumb drive full of intelligence. However, they were followed and our man had a difficult time getting the information into the hands of federal operatives. There was a civilian involved. A completely untrained, inexperienced woman, and how she survived I do not know. In any case, the intel leads them to believe there was a small sample of a biohazard, which they recovered. That told us what we were looking for. Unfortunately, the actual sample and the helicopter carrying it were shot down. This material went missing for part of August. Apparently, it was discovered in a downed helicopter by an adventure specialist and a New York City homicide detective, who somehow managed to evade pursuit by foreign agents and successfully brought the intelligence to a state police office outside of Saratoga Springs, New York. The sample went to the CDC in Virginia.”

  The Centers for Disease Control, he knew, took care of all sorts of things, but as the name implied, they all had to do with diseases.

  “Is it a pandemic?”

  Chapter Twelve

  Rylee’s head dropped, and she gave a tired nod. “Yes, a pandemic.”

  Axel suddenly found it hard to breathe as visions of men and women in yellow hazmat suits cropped up in his mind like goldenrod.

  “It’s really bad,” said Rylee. “What we collected were the samples to be used as prototypes for mass production.”

  His throat went tight and his breath caught as he remembered the yellow taped vials and the ones capped with red. “We also recovered an active vaccine.”

  “Vaccine?” asked Axel. That didn’t sound too bad.

  “The sample is a chemical weapon we have been tracking for months. It’s a deadly strain of the flu.”

  “If it is a weapon,” asked Axel, “why bring a vaccine?”

  “They would want their people vaccinated before releasing the virus,” said Rylee.

  “How will it be released?” asked Axel, bracing his hands on his knees as he awaited the answer.

  “We don’t know,” said Rylee. “A subway at rush hour. An outdoor concert. A Renaissance festival. The beach. Anywhere, really, where there is a crowd. It’s airborne and does not die on surfaces. Technically, they could dust it on anything—the railing of a cruise ship, the escalator at a mall, a single suitcase on a baggage carousel at Dulles Airport.”

  A chill went up his back as tiny needles of dread seemed to pierce his skin.

  “This is not the average seasonal flu,” said Rylee. “It’s a whole different animal. A pandemic. Virulent. They compared a possible outbreak to something like the influenza epidemic of 1918, which killed more people than World War I. And it attacked people ages twenty to forty. Not the old or the very young, but healthy adults. It killed fifty million people with a mortality rate of 2.5 percent. The CDC estimates that this strain has a mortality rate of 12.4 percent in unvaccinated populations.”

  Axel felt sick to his stomach. Why hadn’t he helped her from the start?

  “My office has been running different scenarios and possible targets. The intelligence that we received indicates that this virus will be used in a biological attack. Prior to the attack, the intelligence collected indicates that the active virus strains would be delivered across the border. We have been on high alert, trying to discover where the crossing would be made.”

  “And you thought the crossing would be here on my border. And your supervisors thought Buffalo.”

  “Yes, that’s right. We weren’t sure if the biological agent would be coming across in a large container or if the terrorists were planning to incubate the virus here within our borders. We now have our answer. They’re going to manufacture here.”

  Axel placed a hand on her knee. “But you found it. You got the virus before they could turn it over to the manufacturing plant.”

  “Well, that’s partly true. We did get it. But we can say, with fair confidence, that they will try again. This size of a load makes it easy to carry and hard to find. The load will likely not be carried in a tractor trailer, train car or ocean liner, as we theorized. That’s why we’re deploying here. We think they’ll use similar tactics. If they get through, if they put this virus into production, lives will be lost. It would be bad, Axel. Really, really bad.”

  He sat back in the couch, drew his hands together and wrapped them around his body. His quiet little county had become ground zero.

  He thought that he knew this place so well. Now he wondered if he ever knew it at all. His home had become the front line in a war on terror. The truth horrified him. He thought of that virus coming again into his country and getting loose and the lives that would be lost if they did not stop it.

  “Who is behind this?” he asked.

  “The CIA operative who had secured the intel called the group Siming’s Army. Simings are creatures or deities, perhaps, from Chinese mythology. They are referred to as Masters of Fate, and Judges of Life, and as worms—The Three Worms, I believe. These deities are said to enter the body at birth. They are supposed to mark an individual’s good and bad actions on earth and use that information to calculate a person’s life span. Each worm rules a different body system—mind, body, heart. When your time is up, one of the worms attacks.”

  “Well, that’s terrifying.”

  “So is this group. Because we had never heard of them before, their motives are murky.”

  “What do they want?”

  “We believe that they think that the US has committed evil on the earth and Siming’s Army will exact revenge. Judge us for our actions. We hypothesize that they will attack our heart, mind and body, metaphorically.”

  “What’s the heart?”

  “We don’t know. Our children. Our citizens. New York City. Congress. The Mall of America. We just don’t know.”

  “The mind?”

  “Electrical grid. Internet. The federal government. Again, open to debate.”

  “This pandemic is the attack of only one of the Masters of Fate. The one on our body?”

  “That’s right. We believe the virus is the attack meant for that system.”

  Meaning there were two others, heart and mind, still out there.

  “What do we do now?” he asked.

  “Go through our suspects again. Find who is helping the motorcycle gang with this cargo.”

  “You can cross off the Kowa,” he said. “At least that’s my belief based on their willingness to turn this over to us.”

  He glanced to her and she nodded. “I agree.”

  “So, who’s on your short list?”

  “We are fairly certain that the North Country Riders are involved with the transporting of either foreign nationals, the virus or possibly both. We don’t think they’re working alone because they don’t have the compound or any sort of home base to secure the virus. Also, they have no banking system. Our people can’t follow their money because they don’t seem to handle any.”

  “They transport weed. I know they get paid,” said Axel.

  “Cash, it seems. So who are their bankers?” Rylee blew out a breath in a long audible sigh. “It’s my supervisor’s opinion that they would be working with someone like the Mondellos.
”

  “The moonshiners?”

  “Well, they have a home base and they’re well protected. They are an established farm with trusts and way more money than they should have, though we have yet to track it all down. Their money operation was described to me as complicated and sophisticated.”

  “And they have border perimeter security and boats to cross the St. Lawrence into Canada,” said Axel. “But to attack their own country?”

  “They’re high on our list.”

  “What about the survival group? Coopersmith has a compound, as well. And he’s not only fortified but heavily armed. And they believe that the end of the world is coming. They’d survive a pandemic. I’m certain.”

  “Yes, they are also contenders. They might have given us the drone as a way of removing suspicion.”

  “So you are surveilling both groups?”

  “Yes.”

  And he had been annoyed that he had had to pull her butt out of trouble both times. He should have been helping her. Should have known that there was a credible threat. She wouldn’t be here, otherwise.

  “I’m sorry, Rylee. I should’ve been more help. I should have trusted that you had good instincts and good information.”

  She twisted in her seat so that she was facing him. Her smile was sad and her eyes luminous. He thought of their kiss and wished he could kiss her again.

  “Is this a fresh start?” she asked.

  “I think so. I’d like it to be.”

  She reached out and took his hand. He stroked the back of hers with his thumb.

  “And you’re willing to work with me?” she asked.

  “I’ll do everything I can to help you.”

  “Wonderful. One of the groups we are now targeting is the Congregation of Eternal Wisdom. You’re familiar?”

  Despite the warmth of the room, a chill rolled up Axel’s spine and into his chest until his heart iced over. He drew back, leaning against the armrest.

  Was he familiar? He was. But he did not want to be the one to bring Rylee to them.

  She went on. “They have nonprofit status and are not required to do an annual report. Every nonprofit exempt from income taxes, must file an annual return, except churches.”

  “What?”

  “It’s true. Fraud within churches is a major problem, as is mismanagement and money laundering. Very tough to prosecute with the separation of church and state. Most goes unreported. We believe that little of the money collected by this organization from members’ estates, donations, retreats and sale of religious products is being used for the congregation’s preservation. Numbers don’t add up. That means they have established a banking system. They could be the bankers for whatever group is assisting Siming’s Army.”

  “They could launder money collected by the ones paid to carry the load?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “That outfit is dangerous. They’re especially dangerous to women. You should not be the one to go there. Send some of your men.”

  She cocked her head as if something now interested her. “You are the second one who’s told me that this outfit is dangerous for women. The first was my colleague with DHS. What exactly is going on out there?”

  Axel sat back and rested his head on the sofa. He stared up at the ceiling. He didn’t remember when he started talking, but he did. He told her what he knew of the cult. He went on and on, but he left out one important detail. One piece of information that he knew would send her out of his house and break their new collaboration. He just did not have the courage to tell her that he’d been born and raised inside the order of the Congregation of Eternal Wisdom.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Rylee waited as Trace contemplated her question. She knew about the cult. She had even been out there to speak to their leader, Reverend Wayne. From what she could see, the residents there were of an extreme belief but did seem to be content and grounded. They lived communally and from a quick overview, she believed they had adopted some of the tenets from Buddhism, Taoism, and perhaps the old Shaker communities that use to thrive in upstate New York at the turn of the last century, until their tenet toward celibacy brought the group to the obvious end. In this community, both men and women were covered up. All seemed happy. And committed to preparing themselves for what they saw as the upcoming end of humanity’s time on earth.

  The reverend had left her to speak to the two social strata of men distinguishable by whether they grew facial hair. And to the women, who did not seem subjugated or threatened. She could see the children but had not spoken to them. Her observation was that they were on the thin side but there were no visible indications that they were not well cared for and developing normally.

  “Is there something going on out there, Axel, that you want me to be aware of?” asked Rylee.

  Trace scrubbed his hand over his mouth and then turned to face her. The fire had taken the chill from the air, leaving her with a pleasant lethargy brought on by a sudden pause in the frantic preparations and debriefing that had been the last two days.

  “People up here give them a wide berth,” he said. “We know that the folks who come from all over to join them are very committed to their beliefs that the end of the world is near. The reverend, however, seems more committed to being certain that the newest members of his flock are stripped of all personal possessions and assets upon joining. The reverend seizes these for the betterment of his congregation. I have been in contact with the IRS about this but, as he is a nonprofit and a church, investigating him is tricky. A cursory look came back with nothing suspicious.”

  “I can ask some friends at the Treasury to have another look,” said Rylee. “But if they already came back with nothing... Why are you so certain something illicit is happening out there?”

  “A feeling that I have. A bad feeling.”

  The silence settled over them like a warm blanket. She was growing comfortable with him. There was no pressure to fill the warm dry air with useless prattle. She watched a log roll in the flame, sending a shower of sparks below the grate. The embers glowed orange and gradually faded to gray. She loved the smell of wood smoke. Somehow, in her traveling from place to place, it had always been a comfort. Their home in Germany had had a fireplace and she used to beg her parents to light the fire. They did very occasionally, as her mother did not trust that the chimney had been correctly cleaned.

  She caught him staring at her, seeing a different kind of fire in his eyes. The need he stirred in her had gained in strength. What at first had been an annoyance and a distraction, had gathered into an internal storm that was getting out of her control.

  She glanced back to the flames. She had told him everything and that felt good. Instead of making her anxious, the information felt like what she should have offered at the start—a collaboration with local law enforcement. If she weren’t so suspicious of everyone, she would have done this earlier.

  He was a decorated officer with an exemplary military record. True, he had been in the US Army, but she wasn’t going to hold that against him. She wasn’t like her dad, seeing one branch of the military as superior to the rest. And he had come home and gotten his education, without the help of family to do that, applying for aid and to colleges. Getting that first job right here in Kinsley’s police force and then being elected by the county at such a young age. Clearly, his community had faith in him. Unless those same citizens on his watch list had made sure that he was elected.

  Her smile waned but she pushed back the doubts.

  No, there was no evidence or even speculation to that effect. It was only her problems with trust that made her so reluctant to believe in him.

  Trust. And that was the trouble. Or at least what the counselor at school had suggested to her. The free mental health service offered through the health and wellness center at her college. The mental health professional who had advis
ed she come weekly and proposed to her that her tendency to avoid relationships might be due to her experience of losing any friends due to the frequent moves. And that her difficulty forming an attachment with a partner might be due to her father’s emotional distance and physical absence.

  You don’t trust men to stick around, she had said.

  Yet, this man had stuck around in his county despite having no family here. Parents listed as unknown on official records. Sheriff Rogers’s report listed him as abandoned. Yet Axel said his dad was still around. Had his father abandoned him or was he unable to care for his child? It was also possible that his father had been deemed unfit as a parent, but then there would be a record. The entire thing was mysterious. In any case, how complicated must his feelings for his father be?

  That blank spot in his past troubled her. Where had he been before his appearance in official reports? The records yielded nothing. Where had he been for thirteen years?

  “Would you like something other than coffee? I have beer and white wine.”

  “You don’t seem like a wine guy.”

  “Former girlfriend,” he admitted.

  Red flags popped up before her like traffic cones in a construction area.

  “Should have improved with age, because she left it over two years ago.”

  “Anyone since?”

  “No one serious. I’m not in a relationship, Rylee, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “I’m not.” But of course, she was, and the reason she cared if he were available made her ears buzz and her stomach ache with dread because it meant that she was considering one—a relationship—with Sheriff Axel Trace. Not him, she told herself.

  “So, wine?”

  “No, not her wine. I’ll have a beer.”

  He chuckled and stood, removing the barely touched coffee and heading out. With both hands full, he could do nothing about the low-slung sweatpants and Rylee nearly fell off the couch staring at the dimples at his lower back and the tempting curve of his butt.