Next Exit, Quarter Mile

Home > Other > Next Exit, Quarter Mile > Page 35
Next Exit, Quarter Mile Page 35

by CW Browning


  “See? That’s why I didn't want you going alone!” he exclaimed. “What happened?”

  “Lina sent me out the bedroom window with John's laptop and she stayed behind to handle it,” Stephanie answered.

  Blake groaned.

  “Where's the body?”

  Stephanie smacked him in the chest, stifling a laugh.

  “There isn't one! She doesn't kill everyone she meets,” she protested. “Actually, she didn't say what she did with him,” she added thoughtfully.

  “Uh-huh, because she dropped him in a landfill somewhere. Who was it?”

  “Dominic.”

  Stephanie watched the smile disappear from his face.

  “What?!”

  “Lina thinks he was looking for the same thing we were, information.”

  “Good Lord, this is getting out of control,” Blake muttered, running a hand through his hair. “If he's doing his own dirty work now, this cannot be good.”

  “It gets better,” Stephanie told him and he looked at her apprehensively.

  “What?”

  “After we left, someone torched John's house,” she said grimly. “I got a call about an hour later. They didn't get the fire out until early this morning. His place is gone.”

  Blake stared at her for a beat, then cursed under his breath.

  “And everything in it,” he stated. “All you had time to grab was his laptop?”

  “Yes, but Lina thinks it's all we need.”

  “She's got it?” he asked. At her nod, he sighed heavily. “That's it then. We'll have to wait for John to come down from the drugs before we find out what the hell he was doing.”

  “You don't think she'll find something?” Stephanie asked, glancing at him.

  He shrugged.

  “I know I only keep half my notes on my laptop,” he answered. “I have external drives with the rest.”

  “You don't know John,” she informed him with a chuckle. “He never backed anything up in his life. I'm sure Lina will find something.”

  “What a mess.” Blake stood up restlessly and looked down at her. He reached out his hand. “Come on. I need to walk.”

  Stephanie took his hand and allowed him to pull her up, grabbing her purse as she stood.

  “She said she was going through his laptop this afternoon, so as soon as I hear something, I'll let you know,” she assured him, falling into step beside him as he set off on the path that circled the lake.

  “Why does she have it again?” he asked, glancing down at her in time to see her flush faintly. He raised an eyebrow. “Come on. Spit it out. What aren't you telling me?”

  “Nothing,” Stephanie lied again, resisting the urge to cross her fingers behind her back. “She's...better equipped to break into a laptop, that's all.”

  Blake stared at her for a beat, then turned his eyes to the path ahead of them. They walked in silence for a few minutes and Stephanie was just breathing a silent sigh of relief when he spoke.

  “You're a bad liar, Agent Walker.”

  Stephanie opened her mouth to protest, but his next words stopped her.

  “I have to go back to DC. I'm meeting Michael for dinner,” he told her. “After that, I'm going home, having a hot shower and going to sleep. When I get up, I'm coming right back here. That means you have until about ten o'clock tomorrow morning to decide whether or not you're going to tell me what the hell is going on.”

  “Blake, I...”

  He stopped and turned to her, laying a finger across her lips. His brown eyes were surprisingly understanding, but his lips were drawn into a grim line.

  “I know the Black Widow is your friend. Mike trusts her, and that's good enough for me,” he said gently. “But I have a case to solve and, unfortunately, it looks like whatever chaos you have brewing up here is irrevocably connected to mine. We're going to have to work together and share information. So you tell Viper that at ten o'clock tomorrow morning, I'm getting read into everything.”

  “Why are you assuming this is all her instigation?” Stephanie demanded, brushing his hand away from her face when he was finished speaking.

  “Isn't it?”

  “Actually, no,” she informed him defiantly. “I do know something I'm not telling you, but it isn't because of her. I'm trying to protect you.”

  Blake blinked.

  “Excuse me?”

  “What I know could end both our careers,” Stephanie said, lowering her voice slightly. “I don't have a choice, but you do. I'm not dragging you down with me.”

  “Don't I have a say in that?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

  Stephanie stared up at him. She wanted to tell him about the bombs and what Matt shared with her. She desperately wanted his input, but if Rob ever found out, Blake's career would be over as well.

  “I have to think about this,” she decided after a long moment.

  He nodded.

  “You do that,” he agreed. He started to walk, but stopped and turned to her again. “Steph, the last thing you need to worry about is me. I'll take care of myself. You've warned me. That was fair and I appreciate it, but my position won't change. I need to know what you know.”

  Stephanie studied him thoughtfully. He was willing to jump into this mess without knowing how far it went. She could read it in his eyes. He was a stubborn man who had his teeth into something, and he wasn't about to let it go. Stephanie could respect that, and she nodded.

  “Ok,” she murmured. “Ten o'clock it is. You can take me to breakfast.”

  Blake grinned.

  “Deal.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Alina stepped out of the way and watched as two nurses rolled a sedated patient by on a gurney. She had come at the height of visiting hours and the wide hallway was bustling with activity. Between the medical professionals hurrying from patient to patient and the visitors wandering around, looking for their loved ones, the ICU floor felt more like the center of a very busy subway station. This suited her perfectly. The less people likely to notice her, the better. Once the gurney passed, Alina continued down the wide hallway, her movements controlled and precise.

  A doctor came towards her, moving as quickly and precisely as she was herself, and Alina lifted her eyes briefly. Something in his gait and the way he held his shoulders caught her attention. It seemed almost...familiar. As he passed, she glanced from under her eyelashes into his face, catching the hint of cologne as their arms nearly brushed. His face was vaguely familiar, in the way that a perfect stranger had the tendency to remind you of someone you knew well. Viper strode on, but glanced back over her shoulder a few seconds later, her lips pursed thoughtfully. The doctor was about to round the corner, but as she looked, his head lifted and turned. Their eyes met briefly across the distance. Her heart skipped a beat and the hair on her neck prickled in unmistakable warning. Viper sucked in her breath and turned her head, striding along without another look back. A moment later, she came to another corner and rounded it, resisting the almost uncontrollable urge to turn and look again.

  All hell was breaking loose in the next hallway. A red light above a doorway was flashing silently and nurses rushed toward the room in a controlled state of panic. Alina's step checked and she watched as two nurses disappeared through the door and another ran to the opposite end of the hallway, heading for a crash cart positioned outside one of the rooms.

  “Someone page the doctor!”

  “Where's that crash cart?!” A more authoritative voice yelled, echoing out of the room and into the hallway.

  Alina glanced at the room that was the epicenter of all the commotion. Her lips tightened and she hesitated briefly before slipping into the room closest to her. Thankfully, it was unoccupied and she watched the action from inside the door. People scattered out of the way as the crash cart was wheeled rapidly down the hall and into the room as another nurse came running.

  Alina stared at the door of John's room, the red flashing light acting like a beacon in the chaos, her hear
t pounding. What the hell happened? Clearly he was in cardiac arrest, but why? How?

  Viper's eyes suddenly narrowed as her mind clamored to process everything it was seeing. Something was bothering her. Something wasn't right. The obvious answer was the flashing red light and flurry of activity inside the room across the hall, but Viper knew that wasn't the culprit. It was something else. It was the faint smell of cologne in the air. It was the pristine white coat, possessing two creased lines as if it just came out of a bag.

  The doctor!

  Her heart slammed against her chest, then fell into a steady rhythm as Viper slipped out of the empty room and turned to leave the commotion behind her. She moved quickly, staying close to the wall and trying to be as unobtrusive as possible.

  “Stand clear!”

  The command echoed in Viper's ears as she rounded the corner and the commotion behind her disappeared from sight. She fought the urge to turn back, instead focusing on putting one foot in front of the other and making her way down the hall, toward the stairwell in the next corridor. Another doctor came out of a door and ran past her, heading toward John's room. Absurdly, she noted that his coat was wrinkled and worn, and there was even an ink stain on the pocket.

  Alina tried not to consider the fact that around 500 volts of electricity were being systematically sent through John's chest cavity and into his heart in an effort to restart it. He was being jumped like a car battery, something he would have appreciated if he was conscious enough to realize it. Her mouth tightened and she rounded the corner, the stairwell in view.

  The doctor who Viper was sure wasn't a doctor would have taken the stairs.

  A second later, she slipped silently into the stairwell and paused, listening. He had a head start. Her odds of catching up to him were slim, but Viper knew she had to try. There was no sound from above or below her to indicate which direction to go. She chose to descend, following the quickest route out of this wing of the hospital. She had entered this way earlier, and she was betting that her mark had exited the same way.

  All thoughts of John were pushed aside as she ran silently down the stairs, her gaze focused. Their eyes had met and she saw his face again, startling in its clarity. Who was he? He seemed familiar, but was it because she had seen him before? Or had her subconscious simply picked up on his illegitimate coat before her mind processed it?

  His eyes....

  Viper hit the ground floor at a run.

  His eyes had bored into hers. He knew her. That was why her instincts had screamed in warning. There was recognition in those dark eyes.

  Viper flew through the door into the wide, ground floor corridor. People milled around, moving toward the elevators on the one end and going in and out of the little gift shop on the other. About twenty people were in the immediate area, but none were her mysterious doctor.

  “Damn!”

  Pressing her lips together grimly, Viper turned and headed away from the elevators, toward the exit doors. Her gaze fell on a stainless steel trash can in the corner of the hallway before the entrance and she paused. A scrap of white was just visible, shoved into the can hastily. As she passed, Viper plucked out the pristine white lab coat, never breaking stride as she continued through the entranceway and out the automatic doors.

  A couple stood a few feet from the road, smoking, while a nurse hurried along the sidewalk, heading in to start her shift. Further down, along the front of the building, a couple of security guards walked along, talking quietly as they made their way around the exterior of the hospital. Traffic flowed by on the road and a group of people stood on this side of the road, waiting for the pedestrian crossing to clear enough for them to cross to the parking lot on the other side. Viper turned her attention toward the parking garage. Several people were walking to and from the parking garage, but none of them were him.

  He was gone.

  Viper's fist closed around the white fabric in her hand. She turned toward the parking garage, the only trace of the mysterious stranger in her hand. It wasn't much, but it was all she had to find him.

  Michael glanced at his watch and drummed his fingers on the dark wood. He was seated in his usual booth, behind the bar, and he glanced over to the bartender. Danny was wiping down after a departing customer when he caught Michael's glance.

  “How's the bookcase coming?” he called.

  Michael grinned.

  “Slowly,” he replied. “Work keeps interrupting. How's the boat?”

  “The same,” Danny answered with a grin. “Not enough time to do everything.”

  “That's the truth.”

  The heavy wooden door opened then and Michael looked past the bar to the sunlight streaming into the darker interior. His boss stepped out of the stream of sunlight and the door swung closed behind him, shutting out the bright afternoon. Michael raised a hand to wave and Chris spotted him, moving to the back of the bar with a quick glance around. A moment later, he was sliding into the booth across from Michael.

  “So, this is the infamous Irish bar,” he said, looking around.

  “This is it,” Michael agreed with a quick grin. “Thanks for meeting me here.”

  “You didn't really leave me much choice, did you?” Chris said. “Your text was all very cloak-and-dagger. Lucky for you, I haven't eaten lunch yet.”

  As if on cue, a waitress walked up to the table with a friendly smile. They both ordered sodas and Chris reached for the menu.

  “What's good here?” he asked.

  “Everything, but the Guinness burger is outstanding,” Michael told him.

  Chris glanced over the menu, then shrugged and put it back.

  “You come here enough. You should know,” he said. “I'll try it. So, why the slinking around back alleys?”

  Michael raised an eyebrow and looked across the table at his boss, his lips twitching.

  “I don't know what you've been up to, but I haven't been in any alleys,” he replied with a chuckle before sobering. “Someone is watching us.”

  “Is that a fact?” Chris asked, crooking an eyebrow.

  The waitress returned with their sodas and Michael ordered for them both. She jotted down their order and he waited until she disappeared behind the swinging door to the kitchen before returning his gaze to Chris.

  “Yes, that's a fact,” he told him. “I've had a tail all day.”

  Chris stared at him, all amusement wiped from his face.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” Michael lowered his voice and leaned forward. “After I talked to you on the phone yesterday, I drove out to see that biochemical engineer, Dr. Krupp. He's a piece of work, but he was full of information. This is a lot worse than we originally thought.”

  “How much worse than an Ebola outbreak can it get?” Chris demanded, his own voice low.

  “He's doing the testing now, but he said if what Patrick told him is true, it could be a worse strain than what they've seen so far.” Michael paused to sip his soda. “Now for the worst part. Remember those three men from Mexico?” At Chris's nod, he continued, “They've crossed the Mississippi, heading East. CBP is trying to track them, but right now they're at large. They could be anywhere.”

  “And we definitely think they're the ones behind all this?” Chris asked.

  Michael hesitated, then sighed.

  “I think so, but my source is not confirming,” he said.

  “The rogue agent?” Chris sat back and shook his head. “Typical. That agency is as close as clams when it comes to information. What do we know for certain?”

  “The hospitals are stockpiling antidotes for anthrax that Dr. Traeborn, Patrick, believes is really an antidote for an advanced form of Ebola. Bombs are being moved up and down the coast. Three men traveling under Turkish passports went through Mexico, crossed into the country without going through border customs, and crossed the Mississippi. We can safely assume they're terrorists due to The Black Widow's interest. We know that I am being watched, and we can also very safely assu
me that your office is bugged.”

  “Wait, what?!” Chris exclaimed.

  Michael shrugged.

  “I know I'm not bugged, but someone started following me after I talked to you on the phone yesterday.”

  “Well hell, Mike, you could have told me sooner!”

  “I didn't think of it until this morning when it was pointed out to me,” Michael admitted.

  Chris stared at him and ran a hand through his hair before leaning forward again.

  “Your text is making sense now,” he muttered. “OK. What else are we assuming?”

  “That Sgt Curtis does not have the flu,” Michael said promptly.

  Chris stared hard at him, then sat back as the waitress came into view with a tray piled high with their burgers and fries. They were both silent as she set out the food and Michael nodded with a smile of thanks before she left. Once she was gone, Chris sat forward again.

  “You think he infected himself with Ebola?” he demanded in a low voice. “Why?”

  “Who was he supposed to meet?” Michael countered just as quietly.

  “Holy...” Chris sat back, stunned. “Mike, this is just unbelievable. You think he was going to infect the President of the United States with this mutated virus?”

  “Not just the President, but most of the White House staff,” Michael answered grimly. “Think about it. If he succeeded in infecting the President, most of the White House would be at risk as well.”

  Chris shook his head, still dumbfounded.

  “I just can't seem to wrap my head around this.”

  “It's hard,” Michael agreed, reaching for his burger. “I'm having a hard time believing it myself. In fact, until I hear from Dr. Krupp confirming how he thinks the virus will work, I'm not sure if I totally buy it.”

  “He thinks he can figure out how the virus works?” Chris demanded incredulously. “From just the antidote?”

  “He's a genius,” Michael said with a shrug. “Who am I to argue with one of them?”

  Chris shook his head again and reached for his own burger, taking a big bite and chewing thoughtfully.

  “I still don't understand. If they want to start some kind of Ebola outbreak, why stock the hospitals with an antidote?” he asked after a few moments. “It makes no sense.”

 

‹ Prev