by CW Browning
“Bingo.”
Blake was silent while he finished his beer and then he went back to his stool again.
“You realize he could have infected most of the President's entourage?” he asked softly. “Hell, he could have infected most of the cabinet and press!”
“Oh, I know,” Michael agreed soberly. He set his empty bottle on the table. “Trust me, we dodged a bullet on this one, and it was only thanks to Viper.”
“So, now what?” Blake asked after a minute. “Where do we stand now?”
“I'm still trying to find those travelers, and she's dealing with the bombs,” Michael answered. “You're trying to find the drivers and now you know what you're dealing with, and Dr. Krupp is trying to determine just what, exactly, we're dealing with inside the weapon.”
“And we have no idea where the bombs are being assembled or where they're going to be placed?”
“None.”
“It's impossible!” Blake exclaimed. “We're trying to find invisible targets!”
“I know. That's what I told Viper,” Michael agreed glumly.
“And what did she say?”
“Welcome to her world.”
Blake let out a short bark of laughter and Michael grinned reluctantly.
“She's got a point,” Blake admitted. “This is business as usual for her.”
“Tell me about Jersey,” Michael said, standing up and stretching. “What's going on there?”
“Nothing compared to what you just told me,” Blake replied. “Stephanie is helping track down the drivers as best as she can. I think she knows about the bombs,” he added thoughtfully. “She's keeping something from me, something she said could end my career. I'm meeting her for breakfast tomorrow.”
“That's it?” Michael asked incredulously. “That's all you've got?”
“Well, nothing can follow your lead-in,” Blake protested. “It sure does fill in a lot of holes, though. Now I know what they're moving and why. We caught one of the Cartel members and he dropped a name up in Jersey, Dominic DiBarcoli. He runs the drivers out of Atlantic City.”
“I know that name,” Michael said with a frown. “Why do I know that name?”
“He owns the raceway up there,” Blake said helpfully.
“No. I don't know it from New Jersey,” Michael murmured, shaking his head. “I don't know. It'll come to me. So where did that lead you?”
“I spent last night in Atlantic City, doing some leg-work,” Blake told him. “I'm going back up tomorrow. I'll visit Dominic and see what I can shake loose. That is, if he's still alive.”
“Why wouldn't he be?” Michael asked, raising an eyebrow.
Blake reached into the pizza box and pulled out another slice.
“Because your girlfriend introduced herself to him.”
“Come again?”
“Stephanie and your Black Widow went to John's condo last night to look for any notes he might have made about what he was on to,” Blake explained before taking a large bite of pizza.
“Did they find anything?”
“His laptop,” Blake answered, swallowing. “Apparently, that's all they had time to get before Dominic showed up. Your girlfriend took care of him while Stephanie ran away with the laptop.”
Michael's lips twitched.
“Of course she did,” he murmured.
“Don't laugh yet,” Blake told him. “Someone torched the place a few minutes after they all left.”
“WHAT!?” Michael roared.
Blake nodded, satisfied that he'd been the one to ruffle Michael's calm this time.
“Whatever John discovered, it was worth burning half the building to the ground,” he said. “Someone doesn't want something to be found.”
“And John?” Michael demanded.
“Stephanie said this morning he was doing well,” Blake assured him. “I hope he pulls through. She'll be devastated if he doesn't make it.”
Michael's brows furrowed into a frown. Stephanie would be devastated, but how would Lina react? She was holding her emotions on a very tight reign, he had seen that when they met this morning. Would she be devastated? Something told him she would use fury to mask any emotion she might feel if her old flame died.
“Dominic wouldn't set fire to the place before he had a chance to search it,” Blake continued, unaware of his friend's thoughts. “Knowing your girlfriend, she didn't leave him capable of returning before it went up in flames. So who else would want what John found to stay hidden?”
Michael looked up and their eyes met.
“That's a great question,” Michael murmured.
Before Blake could respond, Michael's cell phone began ringing stridently. He frowned and dug it out of his pocket, glancing at the screen. His eyebrows snapped together at the name on the caller ID.
“Hello?”
“Did you find your doctor?” Viper asked, getting straight to the point.
“No, he wasn't home,” Michael said. “Why?”
“I have Dr. Krupp,” she informed him.
“What?!”
“I had no choice. I went to see him and while I was there, they came for him.”
“Who came for him?” Michael demanded, standing up abruptly.
“I don't know,” Alina answered grimly, “but I'm going to find out. They came in heavy.”
“They were armed?!” Michael exclaimed. “Where are you now?”
“Getting him somewhere safe,” she replied obscurely. “If they want him, they'll have to come through me.”
Michael started to respond, but then he realized she was speaking for anyone who may be listening to the conversation. His puzzled frown turned into a grudging grin. She was using him to send a message to the enemy.
“What can I do?” he asked instead.
“Find your doctor,” Viper told him shortly. “If he's still alive, keep him that way.”
She disconnected and Michael lowered the phone slowly, his mind spinning.
“What's going on?” Blake asked, eyeing him with misgiving. “Who was that?”
“Viper,” Michael replied slowly. “She went to see Dr. Krupp and while she was there, someone came for him.”
“What do you mean, someone came for him?” Blake repeated. “What the hell does that mean?”
“They were armed and not friendly,” Michael told him. “That's all she said.”
Blake stared at him, his lips pressed together grimly.
“You mean, someone sent a... a.... hit team?!” he finally got out.
“It sounds like it,” Michael nodded, bemused. “She's got him safe for now. She wants me to find Patrick.”
“Hell, Mike, if they found Krupp, then they found Patrick!” Blake exclaimed, the pizza and beer forgotten.
“Yeah,” Michael agreed, turning toward the door, “and they won't wait to see what he knows.”
Alina hung up with Michael and set the phone on the small vanity in the bathroom. The soothing hum of the jet engines was constant and she sighed, allowing herself to begin to relax. The flight through the streets toward the promised Charger had been hair-raising, to say the least. Each time she thought they were ahead of their pursuers, she caught sound of them one or two backyards away. When she finally spotted the Charger, Viper wasted no time getting Dr. Krupp into it and getting them the hell out of there. She called ahead to the airport as she drove, ordering the small, private jet that brought her to be fueled and ready for take-off. They were in the air forty minutes later.
She glanced in the mirror and grimaced before turning her attention to her arm. It was throbbing with dull pain and Viper shook her head. Hawk would have a fit if he knew she'd been shot again while he was gone. This happened the last time he left her alone for a couple days in New Jersey. It was becoming an unpleasant trend.
While she and Dr. Krupp were running through backyards, she managed to snag a pillowcase off a drying line to wrap around her arm in a make-shift bandage to stop the bleeding. With Krupp's help, she tied
a tight knot that held fast. Now, it was time to see the damage. With another sigh, Alina began untying the knot in the fabric, reflecting on the multitude of benefits of keeping a private transportation company on her list of assets. The thought of doing this on-board a commercial flight made her shudder.
The knot came free and she let the blood-stained pillowcase fall into the sink. The sleeve of her jacket was ripped where the bullet had torn through and blood soaked the fabric all down her arm, plastering it to her skin. Alina shrugged her right arm out of its sleeve and then grimaced as she gingerly peeled the jacket away from the wound on her left arm. She was wearing a black tank-top under the jacket and for that, she was thankful. The less layers to remove from the wound, the better off she would be. The jacket joined the pillowcase in the sink and Alina pursed her lips, staring down at her bicep. Blood had started to congeal around the wound, but now it was seeping sluggishly.
She reached for one of the thick, paper hand cloths stacked neatly in a basket on the vanity and ran it under some water from the tap. She was gently cleaning around the wound so she could get a better look at it when there was a knock on the door.
“Ms. Woods?” Dr. Krupp called. “Are you alright?”
“Fine!” she called over her shoulder.
“I am a doctor,” he reminded her. “I can look at it for you.”
“You have a PhD in biochemical engineering,” Alina retorted. “Hardly emergency care training.”
“True, but it's another pair of hands,” he offered.
Alina sighed and dropped the paper towel into the sink.
“I'll come get you if I need you,” she promised.
Now that the area around the wound was clean, Alina held her arm up and turned it so she could get a good look at the damage. As she twisted the bicep, pain shot down her arm and fresh blood surged out of the wound, but she ignored both. After a minute of close examination, she breathed a sigh of relief. There were two holes. The bullet caught the outer flesh, entering the back of her arm and exiting out the front side. She didn't have to go digging for a bullet.
Alina reached for another paper towel and cleaned off the fresh blood before turning to open the cabinet under the vanity. She pulled out a first aid box and flipped it open. Five minutes later, her arm was cleaned and bandaged. Gathering all the debris from the sink, she stuffed it into a plastic bag and left the bathroom, carrying the bag with her.
“How is it?” Dr. Krupp asked, looking up as she walked into the cabin where he was sitting in a recliner, sipping club soda.
“Just a scratch,” she told him, dropping the bag of blood-stained trash into the corner near the door. “It's fine.”
“Where are we going?”
“Right now we're heading to Philadelphia,” Alina said, sinking into the opposite recliner. She reached for the unopened bottle of water set out on the side table for her, alongside a rocks glass. The steward had flown with her before and remembered her preferences. He also knew to keep himself scarce unless she called for him. “That is subject to change, however.”
“Ms. Woods.... what happened back there?” Krupp asked, leaning forward. “I don't understand.”
“Those men were sent to silence you,” she told him bluntly, pouring water into the glass. “You discovered their dirty little secret.”
“Did you know that was going to happen?” he demanded. “Is that why you came?”
“No.” Alina shook her head before draining the glass of water. She promptly refilled it. “I thought someone would come for you, but not quite that quickly. I was planning on inviting you to come with me, not pushing you out a window.”
He let out a short, strangled laugh.
“Come with you where?” he asked.
“That's what I'm waiting to find out,” she replied, glancing at her watch.
She sent Charlie an encrypted message through the new phone as they were boarding. Until she heard back from him, Viper honestly didn't know what to do with the doctor. She could put him in a safe house in Philadelphia, but even that was risky, not to mention unproductive. They needed him to finish his testing so they knew exactly what they were dealing with, and he couldn't do that in a luxury apartment in Old City.
“You want me to finish my work on the virus, don't you?” he asked, almost as if he had read her mind.
She smiled faintly.
“Yes.”
“You're not with the Secret Service, are you?”
“No.”
“I didn't think so.”
Dr. Krupp sat back and rubbed his eyes behind his glasses.
“What about Patrick?” he asked suddenly, dropping his hand and looking at her. “Is he OK?”
Alina looked at him in silence for a moment before setting her glass down.
“He's missing,” she told him quietly. “Michael O'Reilly is trying to locate him now.”
“Oh my God,” Dr. Krupp moaned, dropping his head into his hands.
Alina stood up and stretched, testing the mobility of her injured arm. It hurt like hell, but she had movement. She'd take it.
“I have faith in Michael,” she told him, dropping a hand on his shoulder briefly. “If Dr. Traeborne is out there, he'll find him.”
Dr. Krupp nodded and took a deep, shuddering breath, sitting back in the chair.
“Thank you for getting me away,” he said, his face suddenly tired and drawn. “If you hadn't been there...”
Alina nodded brusquely and turned away just as the phone in her pocket began vibrating. She pulled it out and swiped the screen, holding it up to her ear.
“Yes?”
“Where are you now?” Charlie asked briskly.
“Somewhere over Pennsylvania,” she answered, walking away from Dr. Krupp and toward the front of the cabin.
“You got him away clean?”
“Define clean,” Viper said dryly. “We lost them, but I left a body behind.”
“Anything else?”
“He has a lab at his house, out back. That's where he was doing his testing,” she added in a low voice. She reached the door to the short corridor that led to the bathroom and went through, closing it behind herself. “The antidote is still there.”
“Tell me what you know so far,” Charlie instructed.
Viper briefly explained how Dr. Krupp thought the virus worked and when she was finished, Charlie was silent for a long moment.
“And the other one? Sgt Curtis?” he finally asked.
“In a hospital at Quantico with flu-like symptoms,” she told him grimly. “If he infected himself, everyone who has had contact with him may now be infected. With your permission, I want to terminate him before it spreads any further.”
Charlie was quiet again. Viper moved her injured arm while she waited, keeping it loose. When Charlie finally spoke, there was a thread of iron in his voice and Viper unconsciously shivered.
“No. I'll take care of Curtis,” he told her. “I'm sending you coordinates to give the pilot. When you land, a car will be waiting on the runway. Put Dr. Krupp in it and get back on the plane. I'll take care of the doctor.”
“You...you're taking him?” she asked, shocked out of her legendary calm.
“We need him to continue his testing,” Charlie said. “I'll take it from here. Go home and wait for me to contact you.”
“You gave me three days to find out what they were planning, and I did,” Viper reminded him, a sharp note in her voice. “The longer we wait, the more those travelers can get done.”
“I haven't forgotten,” he replied. “You'll get your green light.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
“This is it?” Blake asked, looking out the passenger’s window as Michael rolled to a stop outside the house.
“Yep.” Michael turned off the engine and opened his door. “Still no car in the drive.”
“He has a garage,” Blake pointed out, getting out of the truck. “Maybe he parks it inside. Not everyone turns their garage into a wood shop.”
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Michael locked the truck and joined Blake on the sidewalk. Patrick’s house was dark, void of lights or movement. Coming on for ten o'clock, the neighborhood was settled in for the night. Street lights glowed brightly against the darkness and every other house on the street had lights shining in the windows.
“Not looking promising,” Blake said as they started up the driveway.
“This is how it was this afternoon,” Michael answered.
Blake went up to the garage door and peered through the window.
“Car's there,” he announced, turning away. “So he's home.”
Michael nodded and they walked along the path to the front door. The curtains were still drawn across the front windows and the letter box next to the door was open, full of the day’s mail. Michael stepped onto the porch and rang the bell. They heard it echo through the house in the quiet night. There was no movement from within, and after waiting for a full minute, Michael pressed it again. Blake frowned and stepped back to look up to the second level. Not a flicker of light was visible.
“What do you think?” he asked.
Michael shook his head, his forehead creased into a worried frown.
“I don't like it.”
He reached out and tested the door. It was locked tight. Stepping forward, he peered through the windows flanking the front door just as he had earlier in the afternoon. This time, he couldn't see much of anything in the darkness.
“We could try around back?” Blake suggested.
“I did that earlier,” Michael said, turning to walk back along the front pathway, “but let's try again.”
They went through the gate to the backyard, latching it behind them, and moved through the darkness to the back of the house. Once they stepped onto the patio, motion lights flashed on, illuminating the area. Everything was just as it had been this afternoon, neat and orderly, and silent.
“Nice grill,” Blake commented, glancing at the stainless steel grill. “I need a new one.”
“So buy one,” Michael said, moving up to the sliding doors and peering inside.
“I haven't been home to use it,” he replied, moving to stand next to Michael. “This case has had me away from home more than I'm there. If I don't wrap it up soon, Buddy's going to revolt.”