The Mile Marker Murders

by C. W. Saari

  “He said he received a FedEx package this afternoon with a demand note and a vial with an unknown substance in it,” Witt said.

  “Where’s the letter and vial now?”

  “He still has them. He locked them in his safe and called us.”

  “According to Kush, the letter mentioned a ‘biological agent,’” Stu said to Bannister. “Go over to their offices and take Ramirez with you. She’s our microbiologist,” he added for Witt’s education. “Make sure you take at least one other Hazmat trained agent.”

  “I’ll take Ford Campbell,” said Bannister. “Did the letter identify the biological agent?”

  “I don’t think so. Kush didn’t read the letter over the phone.”

  “FBI Headquarters has to be immediately notified of any extortion involving the threat to use a biological agent. I’ll see what the letter says. If there’s a threat, the United States Attorney has to authorize an investigation. And the letter should be sent to the laboratory ASAP.”

  “If the US Attorney gives you the green light, have Ramirez run the vial over to the Centers for Disease Control,” Stu said. “Make sure the CDC is told the vial is part of a criminal investigation and has to be handled properly to preserve prints and other evidence. And interview Robin Mikkonen. Kush said she was the one who opened the package.”

  “If I’m not in the office, reach me on my cell,” Witt said. “I want to be called as soon as you’ve determined what’s going on.”

  “Has the boss been notified? I’m assuming he’s still at Quantico.”

  “No one’s called him yet. I better do that,” Witt said. “Is there anyone else you think needs to be advised?”

  “I’d let our media coordinator know, but tell her this is being tightly held. If CNN gets wind of this, all hell will break loose. I’ll call the security director at the Centers for Disease Control. He can press some buttons with their toxicology division.”

  “I’ll handle the media,” Witt said.

  Peterson looked at Bannister. “I’ll let Kush know you’re coming out.”

  Bannister went back up to the squad area to find Ramirez and Campbell.

  “Mercedes,” Bannister said to Ramirez. “I guess you got an assignment to go with me to Global Waters.”

  “No problem. Stu called from the ASAC’s office and told me and Ford to hang around until you got back.”

  People liked Mercedes. She was single, petite, and tough, with a positive work ethic. She stood five four and was lucky if she weighed a hundred and ten pounds. She wore her dark hair short and curved in at the neck. She didn’t smile much but was thoughtful, bringing in homemade cookies whenever she knew someone had a birthday or Bureau anniversary. She was a no-nonsense person, but could still laugh at her own jokes. She’d worked three years in a Biosafety Level Three laboratory at the Centers for Disease Control prior to becoming an agent. She knew protocols for dealing with unknown substances and had excellent contacts.

  Ford Campbell was standing near Mercedes’s desk. Bannister brought them up to speed.

  “We’ll take three cars. You two might have to run an unknown substance to the CDC.”

  The Pit Crew agreed to follow Bannister to Global Waters. It was rush hour in Atlanta, which started well before 4:00 p.m. and didn’t let up until after 7:00 p.m. The interstate was its normal four-lane parking lot in each direction. Bannister decided to take an alternate route to Global Waters’ offices on Marietta Street. With luck, they’d be at the guard gate in twenty minutes.

  Heading west into the sun, Bannister kept Ramirez in his rear-view mirror as his thoughts drifted to Robin Mikkonen. He’d first met her a year ago when he’d set up an appointment with Adam Kush to discuss a new threat awareness program the Bureau was promoting.

  It was Robin, Kush’s assistant, who had come down to retrieve Bannister from the lobby that day. She was absolutely striking, a statuesque blonde with long, silky hair, and what agents referred to as bedroom blue eyes. She introduced herself and shook his hand firmly. Robin had her own office, which led directly into Kush’s.

  While waiting for Kush to get off a conference call, the two had made small talk. Robin was intriguing and easy to be with. Bannister found out that she’d majored in Business and International Studies at Georgia Tech, including a year abroad studying politics in Paris at the Institut de’Etudes Politiques. She was fluent in French and her family’s native language of Finnish. When she said she had always been fascinated by the work of the FBI, Bannister invited her out for coffee the following week. Eventually, he had encouraged her to apply for the Special Agent position. When Robin’s formal FBI application was submitted, Bannister discovered she had a martial arts black belt in TaeKwonDo and had attended Georgia Tech on a scholarship. She’d been notified three weeks ago of her selection to New Agents Training, pending completion of a background investigation.

  Bannister was still thinking about her when he pulled up to the guardhouse of Global Waters, with Ramirez and Campbell behind. He identified himself to the guard who said he had their names, told them where to park, and lifted the gate.

  Ramirez got out of her car, carrying a silver metal case in one hand, a square black evidence suitcase in the other, and a large Bureau-issued purse with two-inch shoulder straps.

  “You look like you’re going away for a week, Mercedes,” said Bannister. “You want me to carry one of your bags?”

  “No, I’ve got it. You told me to bring the whole kit, remember? I can handle this if you’ll get the doors for me.”

  Campbell trailed behind, carrying his notebook and photo bag.

  They walked through a revolving door on the side of the complex toward a round reception console, which also served as a security monitoring station. The lobby was three stories high. One wall had seven-foot sculptured bottles with a cascading water fountain. Their shoes echoed on the black marble floor as they approached the guard and a receptionist seated behind the circular counter. The guard had his back to them, staring at monitors displaying eight changing camera views. The receptionist called Kush’s office and announced an escort would be right down. Bannister hoped it would be Robin.

  His wish materialized a few minutes later when Robin Mikkonen walked confidently into the lobby. She was wearing a beige Prada suit with a white silk blouse. Her two-toned heels automatically drew attention to her long, tanned legs.

  “Hi, Robin. I was hoping you were still working here.”

  “Hello, Mr. Bannister. I’m glad they sent you to handle this.”

  “I’m going to feel uncomfortable unless you call me by my first name,” Bannister said. He introduced Special Agents Ramirez and Campbell.

  Robin proceeded to escort them to Adam Kush’s suite on the executive floor, leading them through a high open archway into the office where Kush was waiting. Kush was a barrel-chested man of medium height. He was bald on top with reddish-brown hair and short, graying sideburns. He favored hound’s-tooth-patterned sport coats, and always looked like the only thing he was missing was a bird-hunting shotgun.

  After introductions, Kush said, “Robin, why don’t you fill them in while I go to my safe and get the package. And by the way, Agent Bannister, I’m not too happy with you for hiring away the best assistant I’ve had in twenty years.”

  Mercedes and Ford looked at each other with furrowed brows. Bannister told them Robin was a Special Agent applicant. With a wave of her hand, Robin directed them into Kush’s conference room, where they took seats at his round table.

  “A FedEx letter was delivered to our offices this afternoon addressed to Mr. Kush,” Robin said. “Our company instituted fairly elaborate security measures before the 1996 Olympics and has continued to update them. We have a separate mail facility next to the employees parking garage. Maybe you saw that small concrete building?”

  “Yes, we parked right next to it,” Bannister said.

  “We have an x-ray machine in there, which detects any abnormalities in items being examined
.” Robin made eye contact with Mercedes and Ford, then continued. “All FedEx, UPS, and snail mail is scanned. Once each piece is scanned, a distinctive red mark is placed on the lower right corner. It’s then sorted and routed to the appropriate corporate division. One of my job functions is to screen Mr. Kush’s mail and eliminate junk mail.”

  “So, you opened the FedEx package?” Bannister asked.

  “I have authority to read any mail addressed to him except for handwritten letters.”

  Adam Kush came out from the back of his office wearing blue latex gloves and carrying a large plastic envelope with two printed sheets inside and a FedEx envelope. He laid the package down on his conference table. They could see the envelope held a two-inch glass vial containing a clear liquid. The vial was sealed with what looked like a glass threaded stopper.

  “I have no clue what that is,” Kush said, pointing to the vial.

  Wearing the cloth gloves Ramirez had given him, Bannister slid the FedEx envelope out of the plastic sleeve and examined the outside. “Robin, do you recognize the sender’s address?”

  “I think the name’s a fake. Joe Kammel. But the address is for the Ralston and Evans law firm at One Peachtree Center in Atlanta.”

  “We don’t have any business account with that firm,” Kush added.

  The letter was typed in large print on two plain white pages. Bannister read the first sheet aloud:

  Various Global Waters products have been treated with a biological agent. The vial attached is proof of our capabilities. Unless our demand is met, altered products will be placed by our operatives in open display cases in two cities on November 19. One city is in the United States; the other is an international capital. We demand five million in US one hundred dollar bills. If you agree to our terms, place a classified advertisement in the November 8 Atlanta Journal-Constitution. Ad should appear in personals section and state: Your offer has been accepted. Include a contact number. This contact number must be a 404 exchange number, which we will call between 1:00 p.m.–2:00 p.m. on Thursday, November 12.

  He then read the second page:

  Put the money inside a canvas bag. Place the canvas bag inside a large, black trash bag tied with a red pull-tie. The bag will be delivered by one of your employees driving a white Global Waters panel truck. The truck will be directed to a specific site where your driver will receive instructions. The truck must be ready to leave Global headquarters at 1:00 p.m. EST, Thursday, November 12. Driver should have a cell phone to communicate with you. Do not follow the truck. Your driver will not be hurt if you follow directions. Do not notify the police or other authorities. Do not place any tracking device or dye pack inside the bag. We have countermeasures equipment. If a tracking device is located, we will execute our plan. If payment as instructed is not received, we will execute our plan. Failure to follow our instructions will result in messages being sent to both The New York Times and The Washington Post with the following statement: Certain Global Waters products have been treated with a biological agent and placed on food shelves in specific United States and foreign cities. Your failure will require us to demonstrate the full extent of our capabilities during the New Year’s Day celebrations.

  “You read this letter?” Bannister asked Robin.

  “Yes. It’s serious, isn’t it?”

  “Sure looks that way. You took the right steps. Anyone else know about this?”

  Robin looked at Adam Kush, who said, “I advised the company president and our general counsel. I told them I was contacting the FBI. Our president called an emergency meeting for 7:30 a.m. tomorrow. I have to call him as soon as we know what’s in the vial. I think he’ll follow whatever the Bureau recommends.”

  “Did you handle the letter?” Bannister asked.

  “I used gloves. Robin’s prints should be on it. You have her prints on file, right?”

  Bannister nodded.

  Mercedes and Bannister asked Robin a few more questions. Agent Campbell then took photographs of the FedEx envelope and its contents. He carefully set the vial on a black card along with a six-inch ruler and took several photos of it. Campbell then placed the FedEx envelope and the printed pages in separate plastic evidence envelopes. Bannister had him accompany Kush to a copy machine where Campbell made photocopies of the now-sealed items. Mercedes enclosed the vial in a tamper-proof biological hazard container.

  “Mercedes, I’m going to interview Mr. Kush,” said Bannister. “While I’m doing that, I want you and Ford to take the vial to the CDC. Let our office know your route and give them time checks. I’d like you to stay there until the substance is identified and call me immediately, regardless of the hour. Ford, once the CDC has the vial, go back to the office with the film and get six sets of prints developed. In the meantime, we’ll work off the photocopies.”

  As Mercedes and Ford collected their gear, Robin called the lobby and walked with them to the elevators. Bannister returned to Kush’s office. Kush motioned him to one of the two black leather recliners facing a large picture window with a view of the downtown Atlanta skyline. Kush took off his jacket and walked over to the door, reaching behind it to retrieve a wooden hanger. He hung up his coat and walked back to the other chair. Bannister watched his heavy body slowly settle between the arms of the chair.

  “So Adam, what’s your take on this?” Bannister asked.

  “I’m worried. I think there’s something in that vial.”

  “I agree. I’ll feel better once it’s identified.”

  “I was working here in security twenty-something years ago when Tylenol capsules laced with cyanide killed seven people in Chicago. The killer was never caught. After that episode, I looked to see if we had a product tampering plan at Global.” Kush raised his eyebrows and let out a deep sigh. “We didn’t. I set one up, and every couple of years I dust it off and bring it up to date. I never thought we’d have to use it.”

  “Can you keep a lid on things until we know what we’re dealing with?”

  “I hope so. We don’t want this leaking out. I don’t know who’s behind it. We could be facing a crackpot, disgruntled employee, terrorists, or maybe even a competitor. I know we can’t ignore it. Our written policy, the one I developed, is to involve the FBI. That’s why I called you guys.”

  “That was a good decision, even if the letter said not to notify the authorities. How’s Global’s financial health?”

  “Excellent. We bottle and sell just one product, and that’s water. That’s all we’re about. We currently market twelve different brands, and last year we sold twenty million cases in the United States and seventeen other countries. Our profits have increased annually for the past seven years.”

  “I didn’t realize you were that successful.”

  “A lot of people don’t. I think it’s because we don’t spend the big bucks on television advertising like the soft drink giants. Speaking of soft drinks, want one?”

  “No thanks.”

  Kush walked over to his walnut credenza. He opened up a small refrigerator and popped the lid on a diet Coke. “Because of our success, Nestle Waters and two other companies are maneuvering for a hostile takeover bid. We have a significant cash surplus, and our board of directors has been pressing us to expand into sports drinks. One thing we can’t afford right now is any kind of scandal.”

  “Do you have any thoughts about who might be behind this?”

  “No, but somebody did their homework.” Pointing his finger at Bannister for emphasis, Kush said, “It could be someone on the inside.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “My address on the FedEx envelope said ‘Drawer 1734.’ That’s for internal routing. Outside people could get the P.O. box number from the Internet, but not the number 1734. What’s your read?”

  “I don’t have enough information yet, but I tend to agree with you. Someone has gone to a great deal of effort and planning. If there’s a poison or biological agent in that vial, then we’re dealing with extremely dange
rous people. I say ‘people’ because if we’re to believe the threat, the worst-case scenario calls for simultaneous placement of your doctored products in the United States, and abroad. There’s a possibility the subjects may have law enforcement or military experience. You noticed they used the terms ‘tracking device,’ ‘dye pack,’ and ‘countermeasures capability.’”

  Kush nodded.

  “No one besides your company president and corporate attorney know about this, right?”

  “Right. Our president and general counsel both said their number-one concern is public safety. Naturally, they want to avoid bad publicity. You remember what happened to Coca Cola in Belgium in 1999?”

  Bannister shook his head.

  “In June of 1999, over a hundred Belgian students at several schools got sick. They had all consumed at least one Coke product, and the public was quick to point a finger at Coca Cola. This happened at the same time there was a dioxin scare in Europe, and a sort of psychological hysteria swept Belgium and France. Coca Cola finally located some transport pallets, which had been sprayed with a fungicide that might have washed onto some of the cans and caused some of the illness. But they never did figure out how all the students got sick.” Kush pointed out his window to a beige fourteen-story complex about five blocks away. “That’s Coke’s international headquarters. In any event, no one died or got seriously ill, but Coke ended up spending over $300 million recalling products—and Coke’s image was tarnished for a while.”

  “What you’re saying is that Global’s executives are concerned with damage control, right?”

  “Correct. In the morning I’ll brief them on what we know and recommend an action plan. A lot will depend on what the Bureau finds out tonight and what you want us to do.”

  “At least whoever sent the letter has given us some time. Have you recently fired anybody who might want to get back at you?”