Spectrum

by Ethan Cross

  Chapter 77

  Nic awoke instantly to the strong stench of ammonia. He coughed and hacked, his head throbbing at his left temple. He opened his eyes to see Yoshida holding smelling salts under his nose. Trying to move, Nic discovered that he’d been secured to a metal chair with yellow zip-tie restraints. The chair was in the middle of the white lab filled with all the strange machinery. They hadn’t moved him off-site. He wondered how long he’d been out.

  Yoshida smiled and then hit him hard with a right cross. Nic’s vision blurred as the pain exploded across his face. But if there was one thing that Dominic Juliano did exceptionally well, it was taking a punch.

  “I think you’re confused,” he said. “You’re supposed to ask me a question before you hit me.”

  Yoshida ran a hand through his coal-black hair and said, “You think this is a joke?”

  “You see me laughing? I had a friend die today. Not to mention all those sick people who got that way under my watch. I just want to put the people responsible behind bars, and you keep getting in the damn way.”

  Yoshida gave a slow nod and took a deep breath. Then he kicked Nic’s chair over. Nic felt weightless and helpless as he fell back to the cold tile floor. He landed in a pool of blood. Yoshida kicked the chair again, this time knocking Nic on his side and bringing him face to face with one of the dead scientists—a woman, blonde hair, mid-thirties, a little short, a little stocky, dimples in her cheeks, adult braces. She reminded Nic of his third-grade teacher, Mrs. Sharon, and he guessed that she would normally have a kind face and a sparkle in her eyes. He got the strange impression that he would have liked her, that she had been a sweet and caring person. No real reason to think that now with her dead eyes, jaw cocked unnaturally to the side, and blood trickling from her mouth. But he couldn’t help but feel a strange connection to her, like he could just sense that she had been good.

  Yoshida bent down and spoke into Nic’s ear. “You lost a friend today. I lost a whole room full of them. These people worked for me. I was responsible for them. And believe it or not, you’re not the one who should be hunting these guys, and I’m not the one causing problems. You and your friends are meddling in things that are way beyond your pay grade. You were a soldier once. You understand the chain of command. What would happen if the corporals and sergeants decided that they knew better than the generals and just did whatever they wanted?”

  Nic said nothing. He just kept staring at the dead woman.

  “That wasn’t a rhetorical question.”

  “Sit me up, please.”

  “Answer the question.”

  “Without the chain of command, it would be chaos. We’d lose, and a bunch of our troops would be killed. But don’t forget that some of the most decisive and famous victories in military history have been when a group of brave men has been cut off from their command by the enemy. When courageous soldiers can do what they know is right in their hearts, miracles happen.”

  Yoshida pulled him back into a sitting position. “In that scenario, I’d have to be your enemy, but I’m not. You also would have to be cut off from command or under the direction of a hostile faction. You received your orders directly from the deputy director of the FBI. Are you saying that the deputy director has been compromised? Are you accusing her of criminal wrongdoing?”

  Nic said nothing.

  “Your friends escaped out of here with evidence and shot one of my men in the process.”

  “What? They wouldn’t—”

  “Your friend, Dr. Burke, shot him in the thigh. He’s going to be fine, but it could have been much worse. I understand what you lost today, and I understand that you want to keep fighting, but your part is over. The best way you can help now is to tell me everything you know. What did Burke and Carter remove from this room, and where are they taking it?”

  “I have no idea.”

  Yoshida hit him again, harder this time, full body rotation. The blow rocked him back on his heels and nearly toppled him back into the pool of blood.

  Nic spit red onto the floor. “You can hit me all you want, but the answer’s going to be the same. If they took something, it must have been on their way out. I don’t know what it could have been.”

  Yoshida pulled over another chair, the legs scraping against the tile and sending chills down Nic’s spine.

  “My father was six years old in 1942 when Roosevelt signed Executive Order 9066. He was an American citizen, born on US soil,” Yoshida said. “But like more than 110,000 others of Japanese descent, he was taken from his home in California and shipped off to an internment camp in Arkansas. Now, the American camps didn’t have gas chambers or mass graves, but they were prisons nonetheless. My family lost everything and had to start from scratch once they were finally released from the camp. Point is that my father never trusted the government after that. He raised me to be the same way. He always said that the idea of America being the land of the free is a great thing, but there’s one flaw … It’s run by people. And people are flawed, power hungry, selfish, and full of prejudice.”

  Nic said nothing.

  Yoshida continued, “I joined the CIA to change some of that. To help this country know who the real enemies are. Because the funny thing about the internment camps was that during the entire war, only ten people were convicted of spying for Japan, and they were all Caucasian. My team, the ones lying in pools of their own blood and feces all around you, were helping America to know the real enemy and keep this nation great. But now, the technology they developed could end up in the hands of our enemies. I’ll be damned if I let that happen.”

  “Then you shouldn’t be wasting your time here with me,” Nic said. “You should be out chasing the real enemy.”

  “This could get much more unpleasant for you. Have you ever been waterboarded, Officer Juliano?”

  “No, but it’s definitely on my bucket list.”

  “People who haven’t experienced it don’t think it’s that bad. Just a towel and a little water, right? But there’s a primitive instinct of panic that kicks in when that water is sucked up your nose and you know that you’re drowning. Your lungs are on fire. Even though you may know that the interrogator isn’t trying to kill you, it feels like you’re going to die. Your mind throws out all rational thought until all that remains is the panic and the need for air.”

  Nic said, “You can bust out all your toys. I can’t tell you what I don’t know.”

  Yoshida shook his head and curled his lip in disgust. Turning to one of his subordinates, he said, “Take our guest out the back and then cleanse the site.”

  Chapter 78

  Burke reluctantly asked Carter to captain the Firebird, so that he could work on the trip back from Alannon’s lair. He wanted to know more about Agent Yoshida, and if the hard drives didn’t pan out, they needed to be generating other leads. His first thought on how to do both was to hack into the CIA.

  His first step was to find a directory listing and isolate the secretary of some mid-level CIA contractor with a certain amount of power and access, but not enough to be on full alert. All he needed was a foot in the door, and he could handle the rest. He checked a few sources on the Dark Web. Run off a group of privately owned and operated servers located in countries with non-existent internet laws who were not exactly friendly to the US, sites on the Dark Web catered to all manner of illegal and illicit desires, everything from child and murder pornography to the sale and distribution of weapons of mass destruction. It was also a good place for hackers (which was an inaccurate term that Burke hated using but was already so pervasive in the culture that there was no point in correcting everyone) to share scripts and exploits.

  Within two minutes, he had found the phone directory for a CIA subcontractor in Langley, Virginia, and the direct line for one of the many secretaries. Then he looked the woman up online, but she didn’t appear to have any presence. He could have dug deeper, but deciding to go for lower-hanging fruit, he grabbed a different name from the li
st. A quick search revealed that Marjorie Connell did have a Facebook page as well as a Snapchat and Instagram. Scrolling them all, he learned every piece of info he needed.

  Carter, who was thankfully doing a nice job with the Firebird, driving the speed limit and using his lanes and signals properly, said, “What are you doing over there?”

  “I figured it’s time we learn a few things about our friend, Agent Yoshida.”

  “And how are … Never mind, I don’t want to know.”

  Burke pulled out his cell phone and dialed Marjorie’s direct line. She answered with a chipper, “Amy Wong’s office. How can I be of assistance today?”

  She had a sweet Southern drawl to her voice, so Burke made an on-the-fly decision and answered back in a Southern accent of his own, “Howdy, darling, this is Dewayne Campbell over in IT. I was down your way a while back running new fiber optic lines, chatted you up for a bit. How is Isaac doing? You had mentioned that he was going to state for discus or shot put, I can’t remember which.”

  “Shot put. He got second place. We’re real proud of him.”

  “That’s excellent. My boy’s too young to be competitive yet, and with that surgery, well, you know the one I told you about, I’m not sure if sports will be in his future.”

  He let some silence hang on the line, let the guilt set in. She would ask herself: How could she not remember such details about this faceless coworker who remembered her so vividly? A good person like Marjorie—who Burke knew was always so positive online, had a long list of friends, and was active in the PTA and volunteered at soup kitchens—would hate herself for not recalling a coworker with whom she had shared such an intimate discussion.

  “Right. Right … I guess you … just have to pray it works out as it’s supposed to, Dewayne.”

  “I hear you, darling. Just tough sometimes. But anyway, I won’t take up much of your time. I’m calling because we think that your user account may have been compromised.”

  “Oh my, has someone—”

  “Nah, we caught it early. But I’m going to need you to verify some info for me.”

  Burke proceeded to name off a long list of information he had learned from online data mining—her address, home phone number, email address, mother’s maiden name, emergency contact info (which he assumed to be her husband), the name of her family doctor (which he had learned from her Facebook page), and a few other details to put her at ease, not enough to make her bored or frustrated but just the right amount of information to reassure her that he was exactly who he claimed to be.

  “Okay, Marjorie, all that info appears to be intact. Can you verify your username for me?”

  “Sure. It’s marjorie.connell.lva.”

  “Okay, great. And your password is #Potpourri8791?”

  “No, that’s not right.”

  “Oh my, well looks like they changed that. Can you give me your proper password, the one you had before, so I can reset that back for you?”

  “Sure, it’s IsaacAndStan#20011979.”

  “That’s a great password Marjorie. Resetting that now. I’m also going to send you a link to a small program that will run a check on your computer to make sure that you don’t have some kind of infection or backdoor Trojan on your actual system. All you have to do is click the link, and it will run the scan in the background and send me the results. And be warned, it may get caught in a SPAM folder or you may get a virus warning or something. Don’t worry about that. It’s just that some of these systems work a bit too good, if you know what I mean. That’s where it comes down to trusting the source. So since it’s from me, you don’t need to worry about all that, I’m shooting that out to you now, and I’d really appreciate you running that as soon as humanly possible. If you can do that for me, I’d be mighty grateful. I’ll keep you updated if we find anything else out about the compromise.”

  “Okay, thank you so much for catching this problem.”

  “Hey, that’s my job. Thank you for being a big help and taking time out of your schedule to correct it. You’d be surprised how many people get upset when you ask them to do some simple security things like this.”

  “It’s not a problem for me. But I don’t know much more than Microsoft Word and Facebook. So it’s almost exciting.” She laughed to herself.

  “I hear you. And that’s all you need as long as you have guys like me looking out for you. You have a great day, darling, and tell Isaac that I said ‘congratulations’.”

  “Will do, and same to you.”

  Burke ended the call and sent a spoofed email that appeared to come from an internal CIA address. Within a few moments, he would have backdoor access to Marjorie’s computer, bypassing the firewalls, and coupled with her username and password, he should be able to learn a great deal about their friend, Agent Yoshida. If they needed highly sensitive and classified files, that would take a lot more work and pose more risk of detection, but Marjorie’s access and some educated guesswork should fill in a lot of the puzzle pieces.

  He turned to Carter. The older man’s brow was furrowed, and his lips tight, showing off age lines in both. Analyzing Carter’s nonverbal communication, Burke could tell that Carter was upset or worried about something. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Nothing, kid. Sometimes, you just scare the crap out of me.”

  Burke considered that and couldn’t decide if it was meant to be a compliment or a derogatory statement, and he was too afraid to ask for clarification.

  Chapter 79

  By the time they reached the shopping center and had parked near the entrance to the makeshift quarantine area, Burke had learned the basics about Agent Yoshida. As Carter shut off the engine, Burke said, “Yoshida isn’t a field agent. He supervises several projects for the CIA’s Directorate of Science and Technology.”

  “That makes sense. He was probably in charge of whatever those scientists were cooking up,” Carter said. “Anything else that can help us?”

  “Not really. Most of his files are classified to the point that I can’t get at them without a lot more work and risking detection of the intrusion. I just got the basics. Engineering degree from UC Berkeley. Recruited by the CIA at age twenty-four. His home address is in Virginia. He’s divorced with two kids, thirteen and seventeen.”

  “That’s not much. Definitely not worth the illegal actions it took to acquire,” Carter said, judgment in his eyes.

  Burke kept his mouth shut, and they made their way into the makeshift triage unit, which had become a lot more sophisticated since last they saw it. It appeared that personnel from the United States Army Medical Research Institute of Infectious Diseases had arrived and taken control of the victims and their care. The Walmart garden center had now become a mass of interconnected bubbles, air locks, and medical equipment. Workers were walking in and out of the isolation chambers wearing yellow protective suits complete with their own oxygen supplies, the suits covering every inch of skin in order to avoid any contamination. It was a scary scene, the kind that brought to mind global pandemics and science fiction movies where the dead didn’t stay dead.

  Burke spotted Bristol and Deputy Chief Edgar speaking to one of the men in the yellow protective suits, his mask and headgear pulled back, and pointed the group out to Carter. Joining the three, who were deep in discussion, Carter said, “So what have we missed?”

  “Where have you been?” Bristol asked. “And where’s Nic?”

  “Long story. Let’s just say that we’ve been butting heads with the CIA,” He paused, wondering whether he should tell her about Nic’s heroic act but decided to dodge her question. “How are the hostages doing?”

  Bristol lowered her eyes, and Edgar said, “Carter, this is Lt. Col. Dangbar from USAMRID.”

  Carter shook the newcomer’s hand and introduced Dr. Burke. Then Dangbar said, “We don’t expect these men and women to last through the night. Whatever it was that has infected them is a very nasty designer bug. It’s not airborne or contagious by touch or contact
. Likely spread from fluid transfer.”

  “Have you seen anything like it before?”

  “Not me personally, but it seems to be based on Bolivian hemorrhagic fever, and that’s one of many diseases that our government and the Soviets experimented with. We’ve heard rumors about Biopreparat and that they made it much further in their research than their US counterparts. We’ve investigated a lot of claims that their actual files were stolen and sold off, but this may be the first concrete evidence, if we could link it back to the Soviet biological weapons program.”

  “Is there any kind of cure or way to help these people?”

  “Some vaccines exist for Argentine hemorrhagic fever, which is a close cousin. But neither is approved by the FDA or available in the United States. We’re trying to get our hands on some of those vaccines, but I don’t think it will arrive in time to help. Plus, with the altered and weaponized nature of this pathogen, we have no idea whether any current treatments would even make a dent. The incubation period and aggressiveness of this pathogen is scary fast. Most viruses like this, you’re talking seven to ten days before they start showing late-stage symptoms or are at risk of death. This is only a small fraction of that time.”

  “If they designed such a weapon, wouldn’t they also design a vaccine or remedy along with it?”

  “Sometimes, but not always. I guess there’s always hope of that, if we could catch the ones responsible.”

  “So who could have had access to something like this, and if it’s not contagious, what purpose does it serve?”

  Dangbar was a short black man with a thin mustache and a commanding voice. He rubbed his fingers down the mustache to his chin as he considered that. “Access, I have no idea. Terrorist cells all over the world are in the market for designer pathogens like this. They can do more damage with an outbreak than they can with a suicide vest. But my guess as to how it was designed to be used as a weapon, and this is purely speculation, is that you put a drop of this pathogen into a water supply for a city or building or village or whatever. The replication rate of the virus is incredible, and while similar viruses often need an animal host to spread, this one seems to thrive in water alone. A single drop into a water tower would spread throughout the entire water supply within a matter of hours, maybe even minutes.”