“Do you know the other night I woke up and could almost feel her hand in mine? Honest to God, I could feel her pinky finger wrapped around mine, the way she used to do when we’d walk together.”
Shaking his head, he looks over at Scott saying, “It’s so unfair. Someone should pay for what’s happened.”
“It’s no one’s fault though Guy.”
“What if it was?” He looks her right in the eye asking, “What if it was someone’s fault?”
“Guy, what are you saying?” she asks with concern evident in her voice.
Slipping his hand inside his jacket he fingers the edge of the letter sized envelope that he’s carrying. He wants to pull it out and show it to Jaime. He wants to scream to the whole world what he found out.
Taking his hand away though, he doesn’t just yet.
“You seem angry Guy.”
“Aren’t you? Don’t I have the right to be angry?”
“Of course,” Jaime begins “But too much anger is unhealthy Guy. I know how much you miss Dom. She was my best friend and I miss her too. But thinking that her death is someone’s fault is…dangerous.”
Touching the envelope again, Guy stops when the curtain slides along its rail.
“Will,” Jaime rises and hugs him in greeting.
“How’s he doing?”
She simply shakes her head turning away, unable to say the words again that Scott is getting worse.
Rising Guy says to Jaime, “I should go.”
“But you just got here.”
“Please Guy,” Will says, “Don’t leave on my account. I know that you and I might have problems but I’m just here for Scott, just like you.”
The once upon a time friends silently stare at each other in the tight quarters of the room until Jaime speaks up, “Will’s not the bad guy here Guy. He’s trying to make things right, can’t you give him a chance?”
“I heard about your girlfriend,” Will offers, “I’m sorry.”
Guy turns from him to her and as tears crest over his eye sockets he slowly sits back down in his chair. Burying his face in his palms he breathes out raggedly as he tries to contain his emotions.
“Guy?” Jaime takes a concerned step towards him.
“I’m all right,” he says bringing the envelope out of his jacket. Holding it in his hands he feels the weight of what he’s about to do. Looking up at Will he offers the envelope to him.
“What’s this?”
“We’ve had our differences Will.” Guy sniffs away tears as he explains, “The way you left…I saw what it did to Scotty and Jaime.”
“And you,” Jaime interrupts.
“And me,” Guy admits, “It hurt us all but for some reason I’m the only one who’s never found the time to understand why you left and forgive you for it. I should’ve.”
“Forget about it Guy. I should’ve called you guys too and I didn’t, I-I…”
“That envelope,” Guy points at it “Contains a lot of what you’ve been searching for all these years. It’s got blueprints for the construction of some sort of laboratory, financial records that show my father receiving payoffs, and transcripts of conversations he had with those who knew…”
He chokes up for a moment before finishing “Those who knew that this outbreak could happen. My father knew that people would die and did nothing to stop it. And now Dom…and maybe Scotty will…
“I need you to make him pay for that Will. I’m just not strong enough to do it myself. Tell me that you’ll do it Will.”
Holding the envelope out in front of him, Will struggles to understand what he’s just been given. “Did…was your father involved in what happened to my parents?”
Lowering his gaze Gaetano’s shoulders slump as he admits, “He was involved. I found names in the file of people my father suspected were behind what happened to your parents Will. I don’t think he ever met them—everything seems to have been anonymous—but my father’s a cop and cops have suspicions. I think he knew who was behind everything and kept that file as leverage against them.”
Looking across the bed at the shocked expression on Jaime’s face, Gaetano solemnly shakes his head apologizing, “I’m sorry Will for what my father did to your family. He tore your family apart.”
Turning his head, Guy looks up at Will adding, “I think it’s only poetic that you do the same to him now.”
His hands shaking as he holds onto the envelope, Will looks at his friends while clearly struggling with what to do now.
For so long now this is all I’ve dreamt about. I hold in my hands the means to find justice for my parents. I can bring all the bastards responsible down. But if I do, it will cost Guy his family.
He’ll come to know the feeling that I’ve known all these years—that gnawing emptiness that I’ve spent years cursing.
How can I do that to a friend?
“Guy, I can’t…”
Guy rises and places his hand on Will’s shoulder. Looking to Jaime he smiles and says to him, “Yes you can. I want you to because I can’t. I hate him for what he’s done Will, but he’s still my father and I just can’t bring myself to turn him in.
“But you can—you must. He has to pay for the lives that he’s ruined. Look at Scotty, he deserves justice.”
Will closes his eyes. When he opens them again a fire is engulfing his normally subdued gray hue.
JUSTICE!
Josh Fisher stands at the head of the table in full command of the room.
His pale blue eyes sweep the room with the precision of an eagle. His fiery red hair curls around his ears framing the bridge of freckles that runs across his nose. He may look like an innocent boy, but at 34 years old, all those that know him know that he’s anything but.
Dressed in his usual charcoal grey suit, tan shirt, and blue tie, he counteracts his youthful looks with an air of seriousness. Moving to his chair he surveys the room once more.
On his left General Alex Cummings is sitting ramrod straight in his chair. The man is easily in his mid-fifties with silvery gray hair cut immaculately close to his scalp. His square jaw is set defiantly as he casts a glare across the table towards Lynne Bosworth.
He’s dressed in a dark green suit coat replete with gold buttons and several medals pinned above his left breast.
The man’s physical presence alone makes Josh uneasy which is not an easy thing to do.
Beside him the County Health Department Director, Dr. Danny Gordon sits impatiently rapping his fingers on top of the table’s surface. Across from him Dr. Henry Abbot is sitting beside Dr. Bosworth.
Josh has already noticed the way he looks at Lynne every so often—he’s clearly quite taken with her and feeling the pair of eyes behind him, Josh knows that he’s not the only one.
In the corner behind him, Special Agent Caleb Fine is observing the meeting. With good reason, Josh knows, it feels like he’s looking over his shoulder.
Two monitors are set up at the far end of the table conferencing in Dr. Chris Rahlings from Bethesda and Dr.’s Roger Whittaker and Wendy Rojas from Atlanta.
As all eyes settle on him he brings the meeting to order. “Thank you all for attending this emergency meeting. Since it was called by the esteemed General Cummings, I turn the proceedings over to him at this time.”
Setting his cap on the table Alex Cummings clears his throat before beginning. His voice is powerful, reaching into the ears of everyone in the room and demanding their full attention.
“I have made a terrible discovery,” he declares without a hint of remorse “I was not at liberty to disclose this information earlier, but as the situation now warrants it I shall explain.
“USAMRIID has funded an off-the-books laboratory for a number of years now. The facility was given the codename Chimera and has been dedicated to defensive work on the world’s most lethal biological agents. As per Dr. Whittaker’s request, I looked into our employees and found a serious security breach at this facility.
“Chimera is
located a mile beneath the Agri-Chem factory here in Stillness. It appears that with the help of our Chief of Security Kazim El Said, Nikolai Markov smuggled a biological agent out of the facility.
“Subsequent checks into El Said’s past have unearthed previously unknown links to terrorist organizations. His whereabouts at the present are unknown.”
Stunned silence descends on the room until Lynne speaks up breaking it. “What agent was released?”
His sharp eyes leveling on her he answers, “It’s called Yersinia isidis, a particularly nasty bug that came out of the east after the fall of the Soviet Empire.”
“You altered the plague?” Wendy asks accusingly.
“The Soviets altered the plague,” Cummings clarifies “As I said; Chimera is dedicated to defensive work only.”
“How was it altered?”
Addressing Roger’s query Cummings calmly states “They began with an already virulent strain of marmot plague—Markov’s specialty—and began tinkering with its genome. Before the Empire fell they managed to find a way to insert a lambda bacteriophage that carried a gene that would cause an autoimmune response in people.”
The light clicks on at that moment for Lynne and she sees everything that she missed so clearly. With razor sharp clarity she puts the pieces of the puzzle together.
“The clean flu shots and the inability for the antibiotics to work despite what the lab tests showed are both explained by an autoimmune reaction.”
“How’s that?” Caleb asks.
“When you get a flu shot, you’re being injected with a crippled virus that is designed to stimulate an immune reaction so that if you happen across the live virus, your immune system will recognize it and you won’t get sick.
“This is why some people report getting sick after receiving the shot. They think they have the flu, but it’s actually just their own immune systems reaction that makes them feel sick. In this case, those who were unlucky enough to have gotten a shot and then come across this plague were doomed. With an already revved up immune system, the autoimmune reaction would be worse. While those who didn’t get the shot, or who were recovering from a prior infection, would have weaker immune reactions that they could survive.
“Giving antibiotics either way would clear the plague bacteria, but the bacteriophage that was causing the autoimmune reaction is a virus and would escape the antibiotics.”
“The Soviets were exceedingly clever,” Cummings comments drawing an angry stare from Lynne.
“You knew from the start what we were facing and kept quiet while people were dying.”
“It was classified a national security secret, my hands were tied. At any rate we’ve never been able to isolate a cure for this strain so we wouldn’t have been much help anyway.”
Henry puts his hand on her arm as Lynne starts to rise from her seat. He can see the hatred in her face as he feels the tension in her arm.
Seeing Josh watching her, she shakes off Henry’s hand and settles back in her chair.
“Not to sound racist or anything,” Danny Gordon asks, “But why was a Muslim in charge of your security at this time in history?”
“Kazim is an American who passed our rigorous security checks before being hired.”
“Obviously not rigorous enough,” Caleb says stepping forward placing his hands on the table across from Cummings. “When was the last time you heard from him?”
“About three days ago. He disappeared after he found out I was investigating our employees.”
“And you waited until now to come forward giving him a three day head start.”
“Agent Fine,” Josh says quietly “This man is a four star General with the United States Army. I would hope you’re not accusing him of any impropriety at this point.”
“Not at this point,” Caleb locks eyes with Cummings and finds absolutely no regret in his cold steel blues. “I’ve got to get this information to my colleagues with the FBI. We need to find El Said before this gets any worse.”
“I’m coming with you,” Lynne says standing up. The room’s reaction is obvious surprise at her saying this.
“What business do you have in that?” Josh points out, “You belong here Lynne.”
“You’re in charge now Josh, you belong here. You handle it.”
As they leave the room to gaping stares, Lynne catches the conspiratorial smiles from Roger and Wendy and smiles herself.
Chapter 43
Des Moines, Iowa
This is all my fault.
Seeing Victoria lying in a hospital bed unconscious with her neck and head immobilized, Alex can’t help but thinking it.
If I had been with her this wouldn’t have happened. God Victoria, what were you doing out on that road anyway?
Were you following me?
“Alex?”
Jumping at the sound of his name being called, he turns away from his wife and sees Clark Starling standing in the doorway.
The Deputy is wearing his usual uniform of grey slacks with a light brown shirt, though like most people Alex’s gaze fixes on the sidearm that he wears on his right hip.
“I realize that this is a bad time Alex,” Clark says stepping forward “But I need to ask you a few questions, if that’s all right?”
“It’s fine,” Alex answers “But not here. Outside okay?”
Alex kisses Victoria gently on the forehead then follows Clark outside her room. “What can I do for you Deputy?”
“The night of your wife’s accident,” Clark brushes a lock of his hair away from his eyes asking “Where were you?”
Scratching his head Alex pretends to think about it for a moment while diverting his gaze from Clark’s questioning stare.
“I-I…I was out.”
“Where?”
“Just around, nowhere special.”
“Was anyone with you?”
Pressing his lips together Alex furrows his brow for a moment before answering “No, I was alone.”
Making note of it on his pad Clark asks, “Do you know why Victoria was out on that road by herself so late at night?”
Shaking his head Alex mouths no.
“While you were out that night did you happen to be anywhere near where your wife went off the road?”
“Why are you asking me that Clark?”
Clark smiles his best comforting smile, nonchalantly saying, “Just routine.”
“No, I wasn’t in the area.”
“What type of car do you drive Alex?”
Alex takes a step back. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Just routine,” Clark answers, “I can always run your registration to get it Alex, but I’d prefer to hear it from you.”
“A Lexus 300.”
“What color is it?”
Rubbing his mouth Alex says, “Enough Clark, what aren’t you telling me?”
“What color is it?” Clark repeats the question.
“Black.”
Clark flips his notepad shut exhaling a deep breath. “We found evidence that your wife may not have had an accident Alex.”
“What do you mean?”
“Silver paint chips were found on the rear passenger side of her car indicating that she might have been run off the road.”
Hand going to his chest, Alex leans back against the wall behind him. “Are you sure?”
“Unless you can tell me otherwise. Did you notice any silver paint on her car prior to that night?”
Still shocked by the implications of what he’s hearing Alex simply shakes his head.
“Then I would say your wife didn’t have an accident.” Looking him straight in the eye he asks, “Are you sure you were alone at the time?”
His eyes widening with comprehension Alex stammers, “Wh-what, you think I did this?”
“I have to consider it Alex. I’ve spoken to some of your neighbors and they say that you’ve been having arguments lately. They say that you’ve been coming home late a lot of nights.”
/> Feeling his throat constricting he hollers, “What of it? I drive a black Lexus. Where would I get a silver car from?”
Clark shakes his head. “I don’t know. What type of car does your mistress drive?”
He goes weak in the knees as the air in the hall seems to dissipate in an instant. My God, what does he know? How can he know?
“You don’t look well Alex,” Clark asks, “You okay?”
Composing himself, Alex forces his voice to remain steady as he replies “No, I’m not okay. My wife is fighting for her life and I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Just deductive reasoning. A man starts to spend long nights away from his wife, there’s usually another woman involved.
“I’m giving you the chance to come clean now Alex because I really don’t think you did this to Victoria. But I know you’re lying to me and if you don’t start telling me the truth soon you’re going to force me to dig into your life to find it.
“If you’re having an affair, I’ll find out about it. Do you know what it will look like if I do—it will look like motive. Things will go a lot easier for you if you tell me the truth now.”
“There’s nothing to tell,” Alex straightens up saying, “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get back to my wife.”
Once in the room he closes the door and leaning back against it has only one thought screaming through his head—‘What type of car does your mistress drive?’—A silver Buick.
Donald.
Stillness, Iowa
“Do you remember my dream? I think I’ve figured out the ending.”
Sitting in the parking lot behind the police station, Caleb Fine looks over at Lynne in the passenger seat. Raising his eyebrows he waits for her to explain.
“Four stars,” she begins “I don’t think it has anything to do with The Sound or Jacob. I think its Cummings. In my dream Sullivan told me to ‘dig for the truth’ and Cummings has been lying to us since the word go.”
“There’s no doubt that he’s kept vital information to himself, but he’s come clean now.”
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