The Virus

by Janelle Diller

  “Good morning. I need to speak with Frank.”

  “Frank?” There was a pause on the other end and then a muted conversation away from the phone.

  “I’m sorry. Frank is no longer available at this number.”

  This wasn’t an acceptable answer. “I have an emergency. One like he had.” I had no idea to whom I was talking. Did Phil Generett just buy coffee there once a day? Did someone there actually know him and his story? I couldn’t keep the panic out of my voice. “Please. You have to get hold of him somehow.”

  Again, there was a muffled side conversation and then a woman came to the phone. “I’m sorry. Frank is no longer available at this number.”

  A switch in people told me that it was either a no-nonsense manager who had to handle an annoying caller or the someone at Starbucks who knew Phil Generett. I banked on the latter.

  “Please help me. This is Maggie Rider. My husband is Eddy Rider, who built the smallpoxscare.com website.” The words rushed out so fast I wasn’t sure she could understand me. In a minute, I’d start crying, and then for sure she wouldn’t be able to. I talked faster. “I have someone here whose wife was taken by DHS. He’s going to turn us over to DHS because he believes they’ll free his wife. We have to talk to Frank. Maybe then he’ll understand that DHS is lying to him.”

  There was only silence on the other end. On our end, Pete rearranged the gun in his hand and kept glancing out the window. Did we have five minutes before DHS arrived? Three?

  “Please.”

  Finally, the voice on the other end said, “Put him on. I can tell him about my cousin.”

  I handed the phone to Pete, who said nothing. While he listened, I pulled off the last of the duck tape around Eddy’s wrists and we both worked at the tape at his ankles. Pete feebly waved the gun at us once, but I knew he’d never shoot us. The second he was free, Eddy shut down his computers and frantically gathered up papers and his few clothes, pitching the things into bags. Pete ignored him.

  Eddy threw me a wild look. “We’ve got to get out of here!”

  I tossed him the keys to Kai’s Toyota, probably the least likely vehicle for DHS to recognize or trace.

  Pete sagged to the bed and put down the gun. He still didn’t talk. The tears came too fast. Finally, he handed the phone back to me and buried his face in his hands. “She wants to talk to you,” he whispered.

  “Yes?” I said to the person on the other end of the line.

  “Thank you for what you’ve done, for posting the spreadsheet to the website.” The voice choked with tears.

  “The rest is coming within days. I have to go.”

  “I know. Good luck.”

  I hung up without a goodbye and then took the biggest chance of my life. “Are you coming with us, Pete?”

  He looked up at me. His body shuddered in another sob. “You’d still let me?”

  “Do you believe what that woman told you?”

  “I do. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  “Maggie, come on!” Eddy grabbed my hand and yanked me out towards the car. “You have to drive. We have to get out of here!”

  “Come on,” I called back to Pete. “This is your chance to redeem yourself.”

  He stumbled to the car and dove into the back seat.

  “Get down,” Eddy told Pete and ducked down himself. “They won’t be looking for a single woman who looks like Meg Ryan.”

  I tousled his surfer-dude hair and laughed. God, I’d missed this man.

  I pulled out of the parking lot as a nondescript tan sedan turned in. It wasn’t Mario Seneca, but the two men had that DHS look: cold and too smart for words.

  “Don’t draw attention to the car, Maggie. Drive slowly and carefully,” I said, apparently—and unfortunately—out loud.

  Eddy looked up at me from the floor. He cocked a skeptical eyebrow, “Is that strategy new? Maybe it’ll work for you.”

  I did the hair-tousling thing again.

  From the backseat, Pete kept moaning over and over, “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I was so stupid.”

  “It’s okay, man,” Eddy finally told him. “The grief made you berserk.”

  I didn’t know at that moment if Eddy and I could ever truly forgive him, but I didn’t think about it. We had much bigger things to worry about.

  The sobbing eventually slowed, then stopped and was replaced by soft, rattling snores. By then Eddy was sitting up like a real passenger, and we headed toward Highway 1 and the coast.

  CHAPTER

  50

  WE ATE A LATE LUNCH AT MOSS BEACH DISTILLERY, which sat above crashing waves and under ash colored troubled skies. Pete’s short nap revived him enough to keep from crying while we ate, so we were all thankful for small things.

  “I don’t know how I can ever make this up to you,” Pete said for the fiftieth time. He’d finally stopped repeating how sorry he was but only after Eddy threatened to put him on a bus back to Colorado.

  Eddy and I looked at each other again. “Well,” Eddy began.

  “There is one thing you could do to prove you’re sorry,”

  I finished.

  “Anything. I’ll do anything for you.”

  “How safe are those health cards?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Does DHS have the numbers of the cards?”

  He thought for a minute. “They could get the numbers if they went in and catalogued what was missing from Tina’s stock. I took ten out randomly like you told me. I just made sure they each had a different terminal number.”

  “So do you think they did?”

  “They’re very arrogant. I think it’s possible that they didn’t bother,” Pete said.

  “But they’ll be doing it now,” I said, confirming what we all feared.

  “We don’t have much time,” Eddy said. We looked at each other again, and I gave him a small nod. “Here’s the deal. We need ten people to go through airport security. Ten people who will use the health cards from Tina’s office.”

  “The risk is huge,” I said.

  “They have the system ready to track individuals by GPS. According to the memos, they’ll turn it on in a matter of days,” Eddy said.

  “Even without the GPS system, though, security may flag the numbers on the cards. We won’t know until we go through,” I said.

  “Will you carry one of the cards? Will you go through security with it?” Eddy asked.

  Pete looked old and tired, his body worn. He rubbed the gray stubble on his face. “I will,” he said. “I’ll carry the first one.”

  Eddy and Pete drank more beer while I made phone calls. The sky opened up about mid-afternoon and drenched the beach and rocks that tumbled down to the water. Under other circumstances, the old rumrunner hideaway would have been a romantic spot to wile away such a stormy afternoon. As it was, the gloom at our little table matched the dark skies. Even when the sun broke out late afternoon, turning the boulders into giant sparkling ornaments, the mood didn’t lift inside.

  We could have sung funeral dirges as we drove down to Palo Alto, but Eddy and Pete were, frankly, too sloshed to carry a tune. I told them they’d better nap. But Eddy told me he needed to keep an eye out for mailboxes that might leap into the road, which I considered an unfair reference to a previous unfortunate incident.

  We were just testy and it would only get worse.

  Since it was nearly six, the traffic all headed against us, and we made good time, arriving at Stepan’s apartment just after six thirty. I parked two buildings away and we split up in order to arrive at Stepan’s from three different directions, although the truth was that if the DHS knew enough to watch Stepan’s apartment, we were long past doomed.

  Jola and Anna were already there. An opened vodka bottle, ten shot glasses, and a box of tissues cluttered the coffee table in front of them. We all introduced ourselves, whispering condolences and trying to make sense of the randomness of our connections. Stepan seemed sweeter and more humble on
his own turf. He’d fixed a plate of salmon canapés, crackers, and cheese. Anna had brought two tins of Russian caviar, which Stepan opened and scooped into small crystal bowls.

  I’d never figured him to be the crystal bowl type.

  It seemed like a celebration—or a funeral. We wouldn’t know for a few more hours.

  Michael and Kai showed up about seven o’clock, arriving five minutes apart.

  We made introductions around again. Eddy only introduced Pete as Tina Bastante’s husband and the purveyor of the health cards. He didn’t reveal the Pete we’d discovered this morning because it wasn’t necessary. He’d made his choices. He regretted them. He was grateful for a chance to do penance.

  “Should we begin?” Michael asked me. “Do you think anyone else will show?” The question of who would have to go through security twice if no one else came remained unspoken.

  “Let’s give it a few more minutes. The rain probably made traffic worse.”

  We tried to make small talk, but given the diverse motives that had brought us together, it wasn’t easy. The rain started up again outside and rattled against the window. The longer we waited, the more anxiety filled the room. At seven thirty, I told Michael to start. I didn’t think we were going to get the help we needed.

  “First, a toast,” Stepan said solemnly. He poured ten shot glasses to the brim with vodka. We each took one, the two full ones left on the table an uneasy reminder that this very dangerous plan would be even more dangerous now.

  “To freedom,” Stepan said.

  “To individual freedom,” Jola said.

  “To individual and corporate freedom,” I said.

  “To back doors everywhere,” Eddy finished.

  We clinked glasses, said “Cheers” in our five languages, and tossed back the vodka in unison. It burned all the way down and then began to add heat in my stomach.

  The doorbell rang. We all jumped. Stepan went to the door and looked out the peephole. He unchained and unlocked the door.

  Phil Generett and, I presumed, his niece Lisa shook the rain off their jackets and stepped inside. I could have burst into tears at that moment. I would have blamed the vodka.

  Once again, we made the introductions around, this time with hugs, handshakes, and fresh Kleenexes. Phil and Lisa toasted us with the two remaining vodka glasses. And then we were able to get down to business.

  “I have made the fix in the software,” Stepan began. “And I have programmed the health cards to match the ten new people. The information on the health cards is the same on each one, even the DNA. I swipe a friend’s health card and copy the information. If you get caught, this will be a grave problem. But I did not have time to make them each different.”

  “If they work,” Eddy said, “only the number and your picture will show up at airport security.”

  “Yes,” Stepan said. “It is the last thing I must do. I must take your pictures to add to the health card and to make the new driver's license.”

  “Driver's license?” Kai asked.

  Jola nodded. “They’re asking for two picture IDs, your health card and one other one.”

  “Where did you come up with those?” Pete asked.

  Stepan smiled and shrugged his shoulder. He was clearly proud of what he’d done. “Is easy for Russian.” He winked at Anna. “You are all now from the Great State of Wisconsin, the illegal state license du jour.”

  “I’ve always wanted to go there,” Eddy said. “And now I’m from there.”

  “It is very important that you do not mix up the vaccination capsules. The correct one must go with the correct card. Otherwise,” he wagged a finger at us, “they will grab you the instant you walk through the metal detector.”

  “But we don’t need to have the capsule implanted, do we?” Michael asked.

  “No. Is simple. Detector cannot tell if RFID is under the skin or just under the shirt. We will tape them to inside of arm. The RFID detector will read it.”

  No one needed to be reminded that if we were caught, an RFID taped to one’s arm was the only clue even a sleepy TSA agent needed to recognize a con game.

  One by one, we went into the tiny second bedroom, which was Stepan’s office. He took our pictures with his digital camera, entered the obvious height and weight information, and switched out a few digits on the social security number. While Stepan worked, Michael got on Stepan’s computer and booked a full-fare round trip ticket to Milwaukee, Wisconsin, through Zaan’s web travel system, which automatically charged the ticket to the Zaan account. Early in the morning, he would print off the e-ticket, and then cancel the ticket an hour or so later. Nothing would get charged to the Zaan account. No red flags would pop up.

  Stepan would scan the e-ticket into his computer, change it ten times to match the names on the health cards, and we would have our paperwork to get through security. The e-tickets would be useless beyond security. But it didn’t matter since once we went through security we could turn around and walk right back out again. We had only a single goal: to swipe our cards into the system.

  Well, two goals: not to get arrested being the second one.

  CHAPTER

  51

  WE FINISHED AROUND MIDNIGHT with a final vodka toast and then dispersed. Only Stepan stayed in his own place. Pete slept on Stepan’s couch. Anna and Jola crashed at the house of a friend of Anna’s. Michael knew someone from Zaan at whose house he and Kai could spend the night. Phil and his niece headed for Sunnyvale to find a cheap motel, and Eddy and I found a funky little motel in Mountain View.

  It was the first night we’d spent together since I’d left Colorado Springs a week earlier. Since then, the world had unraveled. The night would have been sweeter if so many “what ifs” hadn’t joined us in bed, not the least of which was “what if this is our last night we’ll ever spend together.”

  “Regardless, you may not drink vodka ever again, Mz M,” Eddy said. “It makes you weepy.”

  I couldn’t argue that because I was looking around for a tissue to blow my nose with. Once I collected myself, I recited the litany that looped in my head. “What if they have the numbers flagged? What if Stepan didn’t get the cards coded right? What if one of us gets pulled aside for an extra search?”

  “Then we’ll be caught and arrested,” Eddy said simply. “There are an endless number of things that can go wrong, Maggie. And the one that does is one we haven’t even thought of.” He wove his fingers through mine and kissed me on the forehead. “We just have to have faith.”

  “Tell me again why you’re waiting to post the rest of Phil Generett’s stuff. Isn’t that our insurance?”

  He sighed, but he didn’t sound upset. “You know what posting that Excel spreadsheet did. Within hours, our pictures were plastered everywhere. What would they do if we let all that other information loose? They’d shut down the state looking for us. Security would be even tougher than it is already, and we’d miss this chance to sabotage the database.” He squeezed my hand. “This is the right order.”

  We made love that night with the passion of the first time and the comfort and familiarity of the thousandth time. The words stayed unspoken that it could be our last time.

  We lay wrapped in each other’s arms, unwilling to let sleep take these last hours away from us that were truly ours. We didn’t talk for a long time, and I thought he was asleep until he said, “I love you, Maggie. No matter what happens, I’ll always have you in my heart.”

  I nestled myself into him and wiped my tears. “I love you, too, Eddio. More than life itself.”

  He kissed the back of my head.

  CHAPTER

  52

  SOBER, SUBDUED, AND SILENT, we gathered again the next morning at six. Michael had already printed off his boarding pass and Stepan had scanned it into his computer. Now they fiddled with it, changing names and seat assignments. While they worked, the rest of us drummed our fingers. Anna stepped outside and smoked a cigarette two different times.

 
Our flight was scheduled for a 10:17 departure, so we plotted our times, staggering our passage through security and allowing two hours to go through the security checkpoint. With the fifty minutes we needed to allow for the drive to the airport, park, and get to the checkpoint, we didn’t have a lot of time to kill.

  Michael got online one last time and canceled the trip, effectively erasing the connecting thread among us.

  Stepan finally handed out the e-tickets, which looked like the real thing to my practiced eye. We taped the vaccination capsules to the inside of our arms. Kai stepped into the bathroom and threw up one last time. And we were ready to go.

  Ready is always a relative term.

  Eddy and I drove Kai’s car. We held hands most of the way and didn’t talk. There wasn’t much to talk about unless he let me recite my litany one more time, which he’d made clear was the one thing I was not allowed to do.

  The security line snaked back at least two hundred feet, winding back towards the ticket counters that had their own winding lines of people checking in with bags to check. The two lines appeared to merge at one spot and then divide again. Whatever the confusion, I would have bet my house that tourists were the problem. They had no idea how to stay alert. My heart sank when I realized part of the mess was because the TSA pre-check line didn’t exist anymore. If I’d been traveling for real, I would have burst into tears.

  Pete got in line. Ideally, the line would have been short enough for him to make it all the way through security before the rest of us got in line. If he got pulled out because his card didn’t work or he triggered suspicion, how much more suspicious would it look for nine people in line behind him to leave? But we didn’t have the luxury of waiting.

  In that awful moment I realized we should have spread out over several airports or at least booked flights on different airlines and stood in line at different terminals. We could have had some kind of a cell phone signal if one of us got stuck.

  What else had we missed?

  Lisa, Phil Generett’s niece, got in line five minutes later and Phil five minutes after that. Jola followed, then Stepan, Anna, Kai, and Michael. By the time I got in line, Pete still had at least another thirty feet to go before the first TSA agent swiped his health card and checked his credentials. In between the first checkpoint and the checkpoint at the metal detector, the airport had set up a maze, which gave the illusion that the line moved faster, but it still took at least twenty minutes to move from point A to point B. I said a silent prayer of thanks that this would be the last airport line I’d ever have to stand in again. I tried not to think about how that was a mixed blessing.