Stillness

by Eldon Farrell

  “When asked to divulge his work on several occasions he refused. Understand this Agent Fine; everything our scientists discover is legally the property of Chimera and Arthur was legally required to disclose his findings.”

  “Why kill him then? Why not take him to court?”

  Cummings looks at her as Caleb answers Lynne’s query for him. “Legal rights are a little hard to enforce when you’re operating outside the law.” Looking squarely at Cummings he adds, “You needed to get a little creative didn’t you General?”

  “We did.” Cummings unapologetically explains his actions. “Arthur insisted that no matter what we did to him he would never relent and share his cure with us.

  “He stated to me personally several times that he did not trust what we would do with both the disease and the cure. As I’ve said, the years softened him.”

  “Or gave him a conscience,” Lynne remarks.

  Ignoring her Cummings continues “He left us with no choice so I ordered his accident. On my orders, Eric Lydekker rigged his lab to expose him to an amount of Y. Isidis bacteria. But he wasn’t supposed to die.

  “Unfortunately Eric failed to correct the amount of exposure for the fact that the bacteria was pure and undiluted by anything. Such a simple mistake looking back on it now,” he shakes his head as if pondering what might have been.

  “Arthur was supposed to have enough time to lead us to where he had stashed his cure. I knew that if he was infected with his plague that he would lead us to it.”

  “But he never got the chance, did he?” Caleb asks.

  “No,” Cummings answers “He didn’t. He sickened far too quickly from such an excessive dose of bacteria. Then he stumbled upon the Sullivan’s. And that unfortunate turn of events led directly to this,” he stabs his finger on the false autopsy report.

  “I’ll never know where Arthur was going that day. He knew that he was sick and without his cure would die, yet he wandered into the woods seemingly to die. At any rate, when he met with the Sullivan’s we knew it was over.

  “My men moved in and took all three into quarantine. Arthur died very quickly. The Sullivan’s lasted three and four days respectively before succumbing. While we gained valuable information from studying the course of their infection, they presented a problem.

  “Questions were going to be asked that we didn’t want to have to answer. That’s the trouble with dead people—somebody always misses them. Fortunately, in this case fortune smiled upon us.”

  “Jacob Castle?” Caleb guesses.

  Slowly Cummings claps his hands gently together as he smirks across the table at Caleb. “Bravo,” he denigrates. “When I took over Chimera I implemented certain measures in the community to ensure that its clandestine nature would be preserved.

  “One of these measures was buying the loyalty of Walt Anjou. The other was buying Jacob Castle. With a guarantee that both the law and local press would follow my orders, Chimera could be assured its secrecy. I have to say, it was wonderful foresight on my part.

  “When Arthur showed up sick in the woods that day Jacob knew something was seriously wrong. Instead of bringing in the paramedics right away he waited to give us enough time to…contain the situation.”

  “Did Jacob and Walt both know the other was on the take?” Caleb asks.

  Shaking his head Cummings answers, “No, neither one knew the other one was, as you put it so eloquently, on the take. Walt only arrived at the scene because the local doctor called him into it.”

  Seamlessly Alex picks up the thread of his narrative again. “It was really too perfect for us when public opinion started to sour on Jacob. I told him to change his story about what he saw in the woods that day knowing that it would further tighten the noose around his neck.

  “I then provided Walt with information about where to find the murder weapon—in Jacob’s home. His forensics found a match between the bullets and the gun and he arrested and charged Jacob with two counts of murder.”

  “So why would Jacob agree to all this?” Caleb asks, “It sounds to me like you were setting him up.”

  Shaking his head Cummings replies “You know better than that Agent Fine. It was actually Walt who was being set up. The evidence I provided him with, while persuasive, was not conclusive.

  “It was only designed to convict Jacob in the court of public opinion so that no one would need to look any further for what happened to the Sullivan’s. It was never enough to have him convicted in a criminal court.

  “The prosecutor had no witnesses to the crime and while they had what they thought was the murder weapon, found in Jacob’s place; they still couldn’t put it in his hands.

  “The case never should’ve been recommended for trial but Walt overplayed his hand in trying to get a conviction. Eventually though, the charges had to be dropped. Jacob was set free by the law and convicted by the public.

  “No one ever looked deeper into the incident—as far as people were concerned the guilty party had already been found.”

  “No one except William Sullivan.”

  “Yes,” Cummings sneers “Quite a thorn he proved to be.”

  “So let’s talk about Markov,” Caleb asks “Was his accident really an accident?”

  “It was.” Cummings pauses for a long breath before elaborating. “Nikolai Markov was Wellesley’s replacement on the Isidis strain. A brilliant mind in his own right, yet he couldn’t unravel the secret that went to the grave with Arthur.”

  “You’re lying,” Lynne accuses drawing a tight glare from Caleb. “He’s lying!” she explains “Nikolai Markov was not a terrorist.”

  “What is a terrorist?” Cummings asks “I never thought of Nikolai as a terrorist any more than I am. He was a scientist with a unique area of specialty that after the Evil Empire fell needed a new place to utilize his skills. We provided him with that.”

  “So why was he found dead in a cave?” Caleb asks.

  “Security cameras show him leaving the facility through an emergency exit after he accidentally exposed himself to Yersinia isidis. Protocol dictated that he go into quarantine, why he didn’t I can’t say.”

  “I can.”

  Both Cummings and Caleb look at Lynne as she explains, “He told my father once that he would never spend another day in quarantine. Years ago he had a brush with Ebola virus that put him in lockdown for weeks.

  “He told my father that he would rather die than spend time waiting around a sterilized room waiting to die again.”

  “Well there you have it then,” Cummings continues “I had our security search for him but they failed to find him in time. When I said that Markov smuggled a biological agent out of Chimera, it wasn’t entirely a lie.”

  “If I recall,” Caleb says, “You said Kazim El Said helped him. That would be the security you just said was looking for him, right?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “Let’s back up a bit,” Caleb asks, “The FBI found a hard drive on Markov’s computer that was planted there. Who planted it?”

  “I ordered Kazim to swap the hard drives to cover any connection between Markov and Chimera.”

  “And he gained entry to the apartment by using Lance Covington as cover, right?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “So at that time, if I’m right, you were interested in damage control. But you also saw an opportunity to remove that thorn from your side.”

  Cummings nods his agreement. “I implicated Sullivan with Markov for the same reason I implicated Jacob so many years earlier. William was already in custody and had been snooping around our trail for too long.”

  “You thought the FBI would focus on Sullivan and therefore wouldn’t find Chimera.”

  “Exactly.”

  “And when that didn’t work, you changed tactics.”

  “Fortune again smiled upon me.” Cummings looks askance at Lynne saying, “When the CDC dropped that little bombshell about the flu vaccinations I immediately ordered Jacob to pr
int it.”

  “You used it to deflect attention away from Chimera and the real source of the outbreak.”

  “You started a riot that killed and injured people,” Lynne can barely spit the words out.

  “And when that didn’t work…” Caleb leads him along.

  “I did what any General would do!” he snaps “I began to close ranks around my army. Thanks to Tesla’s whispering to Kazim he became suspect in his loyalty. So I served him up to the FBI as the terrorist responsible for the outbreak.

  “I ordered Lydekker to find and silence Sullivan for good knowing already that he’d find him with Jacob. I told Jacob to take out Lydekker after Eric threatened to break ranks.”

  Cummings face flushes from anger as he continues “I had Walt abduct Kazim from custody under the deception that I wanted to talk to the traitor.”

  With a snort he laughs, “The idiot actually thought he had a chance to stay on my good graces after he had kept that file on our dealings and then allowed it to end up in Sullivan’s hands.

  “A call to the police,” he smirks at Caleb “And with the help of the FBI I had Lance Covington next to Walt and Kazim in perfect position to take them both out. If he had done his job…” he leaves the implication unsaid as he sits back in his chair.

  “Thank you for your cooperation General.”

  Cummings smiles and begins laughing softly under his breath. The sound is mocking in its tone. “Something funny General?”

  “Please tell me you’re not that naïve Agent Fine. Tell me you don’t think anything I’ve said here today will make a bit of difference.”

  “Are you delusional?” Caleb begins ticking the points off on his fingertips. “We have a trail of evidence a mile long tying you to conspiracy, obstruction of justice, murder, attempted murder, and if the Attorney General so wishes further charges for the release of your little unauthorized science experiment.”

  Cummings continues to laugh scornfully, completely unfazed by the list of charges.

  “Oh you like that?” Caleb says, “I’m just getting started here. Your boy Castle has already cut a deal to turn on you.”

  Caleb points an accusing finger across the table at him. “He’ll swear to what you’ve already confessed to here today; that you gave the order to have your top lieutenants killed. Lance Covington couldn’t wait to sign his deal to testify against you too.

  “We’ve got your confession, motive, and witnesses. You’re guilty General; it’s over.”

  Playing with the lapels of his jacket he replies “By the standards of any court in this country I’m guilty as sin so it’s lucky for me that this will never see the inside of a courtroom.

  “I will not spend one day in prison. Do you remember what I told you when we started Agent Fine? I told you I had nothing to fear. Your evidence may implicate me in many heinous crimes to which I have readily confessed, but it is all meaningless.

  “Did you two really think that Chimera was my responsibility alone? That the United States Army would allow me to be prosecuted and reveal all their secrets? You couldn’t possibly be that simple. You had to know that powerful people—people above your pay grades—would not allow their dirty laundry to be hung out to dry.”

  Shaking his head he continues “Like I said before, I like you Agent Fine. It’s too bad that things ended up this way because you did some real good work here. You both did.

  “But you’re just on the wrong side. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that in these types of confrontations someone has to win…and someone has to lose. And like you said; it’s over.”

  Taking the cue Caleb motions towards the mirror and moments later a guard appears to escort Cummings from the room.

  When he’s left, Caleb stands up and turns around to face Lynne. Leaning on the table he looks tired and almost defeated.

  “You don’t believe him do you?” Lynne asks, “You don’t think he can actually get away with this?”

  Running his hands through his short hair Caleb answers “I don’t know…maybe.” With a suddenly exhausted sigh he adds, “It’s not my department. I just catch the bad guys and leave the prosecuting to someone else.

  “I’ll tell you this though, if they let him go and he steps out of line again, I’ll be right there to bring him back in again.”

  “Isn’t that kind of pointless? Bringing him in if he’s just going to squirm loose again?” Lynne asks as she crosses the room to stand next to him.

  With a coy grin Caleb admits “I’d rather not think about it.” Putting an arm around her shoulders he says, “You never did tell me yesterday how you knew why Arthur was killed.”

  “What do you say I do better than that?” She smiles playfully at him. “What do you say I show you? Come with me, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

  Chapter 53

  Stillness, Iowa

  Shadows lengthen across the front yards of Cobblestone Place; the freshly fallen snow reflecting the slanting rays of sunlight that peak through the overcast of clouds at the close of another day.

  Stepping out of his cruiser Clark Starling pulls the brim of his hat down against the bite of the cold air. Yellow crime scene tape, snapping and twisting in the wind, surrounds the front porch of the Mayor’s residence.

  Ducking beneath it, he enters the home.

  The interior is eerie, lit only by portable battery powered lights that send dark shadows snaking across the floor.

  In the living room he sees Shane Owens hunched over a waste paper basket. He’s as white as a sheet. “Jeez Owens,” he jokes “You’re having a rough couple of days.”

  In response Owens briefly glances at him before blanching further and depositing more of his lunch in the basket.

  “Deputy,” looking to the top of the stairs Clark sees the lanky silhouette of the chief medical examiner. “We’re up here.”

  With a last look in at Shane, he turns away and climbs the steps to the second floor avoiding the marked blood evidence along the way. “Hyman,” he says extending his hand in greeting “Good to see you again.”

  Dr. Hyman Allen examines the offered hand with a reproachful stare before accepting it and pointing out “You’re not wearing gloves. I hope you didn’t touch anything.”

  Flinching like a school child who’s been called to account by their teacher, Clark stumbles over an apology while quickly snapping a pair of latex gloves over his hands.

  “What’s that smell?” he asks as they walk down the corridor.

  “Blood and vomit.” Hyman squints at Clark over half-moon reading glasses perched on the end of his pointed nose, “Have you eaten?”

  Clark can deduce from his tone that the correct response is no and so quickly shakes his head.

  “Yes well,” Hyman mutters “We’ll see. I just hope you have a better hold on your stomach than your counterpart downstairs.” Hooking his thumb towards an open door he adds, “In here.”

  Stepping into the room is like entering a charnel house. The smell, strong in the hallway, is absolutely overpowering in the room. It seeps inside his nose and crawls down his throat to meet the bile that’s rising from his gut.

  Hastily clamping a hand over his mouth he closes his eyes to the hideous sight of Donald Lincoln. Bending over he tries to slow his breathing—to regain his composure.

  Even with his eyes tightly shut he still sees the eviscerated body tied to a chair in the center of the room. Gagging he can feel vomit running through his fingers and down his chin before dripping to the floor.

  Get a hold of yourself. The words are spoken inside his head yet he hears them in Hyman’s commanding voice. Straightening up he can feel his disapproving gaze burning into his back.

  Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand he slowly turns around to face the carnage again. Unable to keep the quiver from his voice he asks, “Who found him like this?”

  “His daughter,” Hyman replies all business.

  “Jaime saw him like this?”

  “Yes
I’m afraid she did. Poor thing is quite shaken up too.”

  I can imagine.

  “Though,” Hyman adds “I understand that she was able to hang onto her lunch.”

  Doing his best to ignore the slight Clark asks, “Do you have any idea when this happened?”

  “She reported finding him this morning. Said that she hadn’t heard from him for a couple of days; he wasn’t returning her phone calls so she came over to check.

  “Even considering the cold temperature in here, I’d say his degree of decomp places his death somewhere in the last twenty-four hours.”

  Knowing that he’s going to hate the answer Clark asks the question anyway. “What happened to him?”

  Kneeling down beside the body despite the protestations of his aging joints, Hyman details his examination.

  “Most likely scenario has his attacker starting with his feet and moving his way up the body to the coup de grace. See here,” he points to the bloody mush where his toes should be.

  “Each toe individually smashed to no more than pulp. We found a blood stained hammer earlier—you get the picture.”

  Clark nods weakly that he does.

  “Going further,” Hyman continues “All along his legs and arms we find these slashes. Some are from a serrated blade and some are from a straight blade. A hunting knife with both a serrated and straight edge was found on his desk. Whoever did this, they made no attempt to clean up after themselves.

  “From the bleed pattern we know that Donald was still alive when these cuts were made. The thing is none of them are deep enough or placed correctly to cause him to die from them. This was simply a way to torture him.”

  “Jesus.”

  Hyman ignores the curse adding “We can say that he was alive, but as to how lucid he was, we don’t know yet.”

  “Will you know?”

  “The post might provide more details as to the timing of his injuries; could lead us to determine how mentally alert he was. My initial opinion though is that after only a few whacks with the hammer he would’ve passed out from the pain.”