Black Harvest (The PROJECT) (24 page)

The second man was as out of place as an elephant in a pigsty, or so Bob told Mae later over supper. The second man had introduced himself as Agent Brown. He didn't say what agency and Bob didn't ask. What difference did it make? Brown wore a black suit, a white shirt and a dark tie. His sunglasses were smoky, almost black. His shoes were shiny black, or had been, before he'd trudged through the fields with Elroy and Wemberly. Now the shine was covered with dust and debris. The debris came from dead, black plants stretching away as far as any of the men could see.

Men in white hazmat suits walked through the field taking samples. Government experts. As if hazmat suits made a damn bit of difference.

"This is awful." Wemberly shook his head.

"Yep." Bob couldn't take his eyes away from the blight. "It's gone way past my property. Showing up miles away from here. Everywhere the wind blows, seems to me."

"And everything is dead?"

"Everything that grows, anyway. Doesn't seem to bother the animals. Doesn't do anything to the feed corn we got stockpiled, or the hay. Just the live crops." His voice was bitter. "I'm finished. All of us around here are."

"Those are experts, Bob. They'll figure this out."

"They will? That going to put food on the table, Jack? Pay my loans?"

"I'll talk to the bank. The government will help."

Bob snorted. "Sure it will. Whyn't you have a nice talk with Agent Brown, here. He's from the government. I gotta feed the pigs."

He jumped down from the truck and stalked toward the barn. Brown watched him go.

"What's his politics?"

Wemberly stared at him. "His politics? What the hell has that got to do with anything? Bob's a farmer, for Christ's sake. He votes for the land."

"This started on his land."

"You think he did this on purpose? Poisoned his land?"

"Maybe not, but someone did. His land and a hundred and thirty thousand acres."

"What?" Jack tried to comprehend the figure. He couldn't get his mind around it.

"A hundred and thirty thousand and spreading. It'll be public by tomorrow. No harm in telling you now."

"You think this is some kind of terrorist thing? Who did you say you worked for?"

"I didn't say. And yes, it could be a terrorist attack. Bio war. Maybe the beginning of something bigger."

"Agent Brown," Jack said, "if that's really your name. Look at that." He swept his arm out at the blackened fields. "It doesn't get bigger than that."

CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

The steps going down into the basement were part of the old house. At the bottom everything turned to new concrete. A lighted corridor ten feet wide and ten feet high ran the length of the house above. The stairs came out by a furnace and utility room set at one end. At the other end of the corridor were two metal doors with view plates. The doors were closed. The view plates were closed. It was cool in the basement.

They moved silent as cats down the corridor and paused. Nick listened. He heard nothing. He signaled. Right door first. He opened it onto an empty room. He took in the cot, the toilet, the camera on the ceiling.

He shook his head at the others. One room left. What if she wasn't in there?

He gestured for the others to stand out of sight and opened the door, pistol ready. He saw Stephanie.

She was strapped naked into a chair. Her eyes were wide. An odd little man stood behind her, holding a syringe filled with a dark fluid next to her throat in one hand. The point of the needle was next to her jugular. Nick could see the vein throbbing. He could smell Stephanie's fear. There was a puddle of liquid under her chair. In his other hand the man held a 9mm pistol aimed at Nick's chest.

"Stop."

Nick froze where he was.

"Put down your weapon."

"Not yet. Who are you?"

"This syringe is filled with an especially nasty poison. There is no antidote. She will die in terrible pain. It takes several minutes. Put down your weapon. I will not ask again."

He leaned close to Stephanie. "Tell him I mean what I say."

"He means it, Nick. He does."

"Okay. I'm putting it down." Nick bent and put the .45 on the floor. He straightened.

"Kick the gun over here. Easy."

The gun rasped across the floor and stopped a foot from the chair.

"What do you want?"

"This is not a discussion. Raise your hands. Move to the side." The little man gestured with his head. He kept the gun pointed at Nick's chest. "That way."

Nick raised his hands and stepped to the side.

"Now tell the others to come inside and put their weapons on the floor."

"Others?"

"Don't play games. I've got nothing to lose. She does. You do. Tell them to come in, one by one. Weapons on the floor and kick them toward me or she dies."

"Korov," Nick called out. "He's got her strapped to a chair and a needle at her neck. He'll kill her. Come in and do as he says."

The man sighed. "The woman too. I know she's there, Carter. Quick."

Knows my name.

Korov came in and then Selena. They put their guns on the floor, kicked them toward the chair and moved over to Nick. In the hall, Lucas waited unseen. He thought about Stephanie. He felt the cool anger descend, the killer angel.

"Now lie down, except the woman."

They lay down. Selena stood waiting, hands raised.

"You. Get on your hands and knees and crawl to the front of the chair."

Selena got down on the floor. The surface was rough against her skin. She focused on Stephanie's eyes as she crawled to the chair, trying to send a message. A subtle change came into Steph's face.

Selena reached the chair.

"Unbuckle the leg straps. If you do anything else, if this one moves, she dies."

Steph sat rigid in the chair. Selena undid the straps, one by one. "Now the arms. Right one first. Be very careful."

Selena unbuckled the straps. Stephanie sat still.

"Very good. Now back away and lie down with the others."

"You can't kill us all."

He laughed. "I can certainly kill your friend here. You too. Back away and lie down."

Selena crawled backwards and lay down on the floor.

"Stand up," he said to Stephanie. "Be careful. The needle could slip."

He moved behind her as she stood, keeping his pistol trained on the others. They watched from the floor. His left arm pressed against her, keeping her tight against him. Through his pants she felt his erection against her naked buttocks.

His breath was hot in her ear. "We're going to back out the door and lock your friends inside. Be careful. We'll continue our session somewhere else. It's gotten crowded in here, don't you think?"

In the hall, Lucas waited. One chance.

As they backed into the hall Lucas pulled the hand with the needle away from Stephanie's neck and twisted the gun away. Stephanie broke free. Lucas kept his grip on the man's hand and drove the needle down, deep into the side of her captor's leg. He felt the needle strike bone. He pushed the plunger in all the way.

The man screamed and fell to the floor. The others came out of the cell. Selena went to Stephanie. Nick handed Selena his jacket. She draped it around Stephanie's body and put her arms around her.

"It's okay, Steph. You're all right now. You're safe."

Steph began sobbing on Selena's shoulder.

On the floor, the little man writhed and shrieked. Froth and spittle foamed from his mouth. His eyes were wide, terrified. His body went into terrible spasms on the floor. He became rigid, then arched backward in an impossible curve. Nick heard bones snapping. He gave a final scream of unbearable agony and died.

Lucas looked down at the body. 

"Asshole," he said.

Then he went to Stephanie and held her close.

CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

Lucas and Stephanie lay on her bed, face to face in each other's arms. He felt her warm breath on his shoulder, the pulse of her life beating against him. Lucas stroked her hair. It was damp from the long shower she'd taken when they'd gotten to her apartment. She hadn't talked since they'd left the safe house. It was beginning to worry him. He held her and tried to surround her with calm, with safety.

Lucas knew what it was like to be tortured. He still bore the scars. The anticipation was almost as bad as the actual act. Knowing you were helpless. Knowing you were at the mercy of a psychopath.

Lucas was no choir boy. He'd grown up in the ghetto. He'd been an agent for a long time. He'd done and seen his share of things no one should have to endure in the name of duty or expediency or survival. But he had never resorted to inflicting excruciating pain to gain intelligence. Torture disgusted him. He thought of Wendell Lodge and what had happened to Stephanie and for the first time felt the kind of hatred that would inflict pain for its own sake. He imagined Lodge helpless before him. Maybe strapped naked on a hard chair, in a cold room where knives gleamed under harsh light.

Steph stirred.

"I didn't tell him. But I would have. Whatever he wanted."

"Sshh. I know. You did good. It's all right now."

"His eyes. He had awful eyes. He liked what he was doing."

"They always do. But he won't hurt you or anyone else again."

"How did you find me?"

"Nick called me. They found your purse in the garage, they knew you'd been taken. It had to be Lodge, they said. That house was the best bet."

"What if you'd been wrong?"

"I wasn't, that's what matters."

"The drug he gave me. It was awful. He told me it would wear off and I should think about it. He told me he was coming back."

"Yeah, they like to do that, people like him."

"He was getting ready to start again when the shooting began upstairs. That's when he put that poison in the syringe. He told me what it would do. In detail." She shuddered. "Then he just waited for you to find us."

Lucas stoked her hair.

"I love you."

"I love you, too, Steph."

"What are you going to do about Lodge?"

"I don't know."

CHAPTER SIXTY

James Rice thought there were times when being President was the worst job anyone could imagine. Like now. He sat alone in the Oval Office, at the power center of the world. Outside the White House the city got ready for another evening. The folder on his desk contained the reports on Nebraska. The analysis was grim. The damage was spreading at an alarming pace, a vast, diseased sore oozing in the heart of America. 

Two hours earlier he'd had a meeting with the experts and the Joint Chiefs and the Secretary of Agriculture. The Pentagon thought it could be a terrorist attack. The Generals were arguing about what to do, how to respond. The stress level within the administration and the Pentagon was rising. Rice had boosted the alert status to DEFCON3. He hadn't revealed Lodge's involvement. It was a hell of a mess.

Harker had briefed him about Texas. She would take care of Dansinger. Rice had to take care of the country. The experts agreed that only one solution was available.

Fire.

The crop virus was airborne and as yet, unstoppable. He had to do something and he had to do it soon. Rice let out a long breath. His actions were going to cost him the election. But this went beyond politics. It was why Truman had that famous sign on his desk about where the buck stopped. Decisive action was needed now.

He'd thought about calling in the Speaker and the Majority Leader and decided against it. They'd balk. If Congress got involved, if he allowed politics to dictate action, the delay would doom America's crops. It could not be allowed to happen. It was his job to make sure it didn't happen, whatever the personal cost.