Capitol Reflections (50 page)
“Hell no. Of the United States. Before this is over, we might have even more information to give him. Let’s head on back to the cabin and see what kind of progress our colleagues are making.”
69
“I just don’t think it’s wise, Eddie,” said Gwen. “We can’t split up.”
“Like I said before,” Karn responded, “no one is going to take a shot at me right now. I’m still too controversial, too high-profile. If anything happens to me, there will be an immediate investigation. I just need to gather some research on genetically modified foods and then make contact with a few friends who are still doing research in that area.”
“But—”
“Besides, I want to visit Jack again and tell him how much progress we’ve made.”
Gwen, who was ready with a dozen reasons why Karn shouldn’t wander off , suddenly dropped her protestations. “You really think you’re safe?”
“Absolutely.”
“All right,” said Gwen, “but be careful. Call Mark’s cell phone when you’re ready and we’ll arrange a rendezvous to bring you back to the cabin. You might lead our pursuers back to the lodge if you come on your own.”
The two parted. Gwen felt uneasy. She didn’t think Mark or Peter would approve, but she had to know how Jack was, and Karn was probably right about not being a target. It was unlikely that anyone would go after him so soon after his public appearance before Henry Broome’s committee and the subsequent talk about food safety on political talk shows.
She got behind the wheel of the Bronco and prayed she’d made the right decision.
Karn entered his apartment and went straight to a file cabinet, removing three manila folders filled with documents. He would take the information and consult with a few colleagues about the d-caffeine. If Ted Gallagher isolated the anticipated isomers from Pequod’s coffee—the mirror image molecules of caffeine—he wanted to know how to approach the problem. Circumstantial evidence indicated the molecule was producing seizures, and yet a mirror image of caffeine was still just caffeine—just like a mirror image of your right hand is still just a hand … until you try to place it in your right glove.
This was precisely the kind of dilemma that worried Karn over the years. On paper, genetically modified foods looked just fine. And they were everywhere. Every supermarket in America, except organic markets, carried genetically modified consumables. Karn knew all the arguments. He knew that every food consumed in America had been genetically modified, not by moving genes around in a laboratory, but by years of breeding and hybridization. But Karn remained skeptical.
And then there was the Chaos Theory to consider. Most people knew of this scientific principle from
Jurassic Park
. The dinosaurs weren’t supposed to mutate and develop the ability to reproduce in the wild—they were originally cloned in a lab from prehistoric drops of blood found in amber—but they had found a way. As a mathematician had said in the film, nature always found a way of achieving its goals, defying the limits man puts on natural processes. People like Henry Broome could ridicule him all they wanted, but Karn felt that sooner or later GMOs might either mutate or, worse yet, find a way to work synergistically with hundreds of chemicals within the human body in unexpected and dangerous ways.
Jurassic Park
. The dinosaurs weren’t supposed to mutate and develop the ability to reproduce in the wild—they were originally cloned in a lab from prehistoric drops of blood found in amber—but they had found a way. As a mathematician had said in the film, nature always found a way of achieving its goals, defying the limits man puts on natural processes. People like Henry Broome could ridicule him all they wanted, but Karn felt that sooner or later GMOs might either mutate or, worse yet, find a way to work synergistically with hundreds of chemicals within the human body in unexpected and dangerous ways.
Karn needed his notes. And to talk with colleagues he could trust.
Outside his condominium, he got into his Prius and started the engine. He headed down Rock Creek Park. Normally he slowed down to enjoy the meandering stream on his right, but today its beauty passed him by. He thought he saw a car coming up behind him once or twice, but every time he slowed down to confirm its presence, to let it pass, it dropped back. Was he being paranoid?
Karn passed the old barn at Tilden Street, recalling the day when CIA operatives openly disassembled the listening post that had been set up there. The agency eavesdropped on the Chinese embassy for thirty years! Even in Washington, things changed.
Karn’s musings brought him around the bend below Porter Street when he heard a loud pop under his hood. He attempted to steer left, but the car went straight. Straight into the creek, over the twelve-foot waterfall, and into the rotor pool at the bottom. As he spun down into the cold, he thought about the half-dozen drowning deaths that happened every summer at that very spot.
70
They were all back at the cabin, except for Eddie Karn. Mark thought that Gwen had made a critical mistake splitting up her team and with every minute that passed, he became more convinced that she’d blundered in the worst way. Was Gwen cracking under the relentless pressure? It was certainly possible, though Mark would not have thought it possible of Gwen.
He bit his tongue and listened to the details of her meeting with the NIH guy, Gallagher. Then he and Rick told the group what they learned from Mickey Spangler—information that, if corroborated, could easily take down Henry Broome.
“As a member of Congress,” Rick said, “I’m not all that concerned about gaining access to the attorney general, but I’d like to get Gallagher’s report first, so I can present everything to him in a nice, neat package. Nailing Broome is sweet under any circumstance, but if we have him linked to other illegal activities, it’ll be icing on the cake.”
“We may not have the luxury of time,” Mark pointed out. “I’m not sure how much longer Spangler can hold on, and I want to keep my promise to the man, regardless of what he’s done.”
Rick nodded in approval. “How long do you think it will take Gallagher to conduct his tests, Gwen?”
“Something like this would probably take a week. My impression of Gallagher is that he’s the kind of person who gets things done, though. He may have some preliminary info in a day or two. He’s apparently got awfully good teams under him. Isolating an isomer from a racemic mixture isn’t all that difficult, but figuring out how the isomer—our d-caffeine—acts on nerve receptor cells is a different story.”
“Let’s hunker down and rest,” advised Peter. “We could use it. And unscrambling Jamie’s password is turning out to be a bit more time-consuming than I expected. I failed to factor in that he could use the symbols above the top row of letters on the keyboard—dollar signs, ampersands, that sort of thing. That means there are thirteen extra variables to consider in my binary program.”
They all agreed to get some rest. As he lay in the dark—they’d decided to use flashlights rather than turning on lamps—Mark thought about where this story was going. He’d never been involved in toppling a dirty national leader before. Another item to mark off his Woodward and Bernstein checklist. It still wasn’t that multipart investigative piece on the plight of the tamarin, but it was pretty sweet.
Assuming the story got out, of course. After everything they’d been through, it was crazy to think they were home free even with so much damning information available.
Mark thought again about Eddie Karn. Was he okay? He hadn’t called his cell, which was worrisome. Even if something slowed down his return to the cabin, he should have checked in.
It took a few more minutes for Mark to relax enough to succumb to fatigue.
The helicopters arrived an hour later.
“Everyone up!” Peter shouted.
Everyone stumbled into the main room, bumping into things in the dark.
“What’s going on?” asked Mark.
“We have company,” said Peter. “A chopper buzzed the cabin earlier today while Jan and I were working. Three are swarming now at very low altitude. Looks like the bastards have found us once again.”
“What do we do?” asked Jan.
“There’s no way out except by road,” Gwen said. “We can’t outrun helicopters, for God’s sake. We’re finished.”
“Maybe not,” said Rick as the vibration from the rotor blades grew louder and louder. A chopper was obviously directly overhead, with two others cruising in nearby airspace. “There’s a barn about a mile from here. Straight down a very narrow path that begins next to the fence out back.”
“Just a barn?” asked Mark, raising his voice to be heard over the din of the copters.
A spotlight from above played across the window.
“Don’t know. Maybe a farmhouse nearby, maybe not. I don’t know these woods as well as Alex.”
“We don’t stand a chance,” cried Mark. “We can either bolt to a barn or the road. What’s the difference?”
The spotlight penetrated deeper into the room, causing everyone within to huddle together in a corner. A glass windowpane cracked from the intensity of the vibrations.
“The difference,” said Rick, “is that they’ll chase any vehicle that heads for the highway.”
“A decoy?” said Mark. “You?”
“Yes. I’m the most logical one. As a U.S. Representative, they’ll be forced to take extra care with me.”
“Agreed,” said Peter.
“No way!” cried Gwen. “We stick to—”
“He’s right,” said Mark, “and we don’t have much time. There may already be people on the ground coming for us.”
Rick moved toward the door. “I’m going to get in the Quest and back up so that the rear hatch is right next to the door. Somebody open it and then slam it shut after thirty seconds. Let ’em think we’re all trying to escape.”
He opened the door of the cabin and ran ten paces to the van. The spotlight picked up his form immediately.
“Stop where you are!” ordered a harsh voice through a loudspeaker attached to one of the hovering craft.
Rick started the engine and backed up. Mark opened the hatch as instructed and then closed it. Rick lurched forward and then peeled out down the dirt lane, heading for the highway.
Peter already had Jamie’s PC in his arms. “Grab the cords, connectors, and disks!” he ordered Jan.
Mark had remained by the door, gazing into the sky. After a full minute had passed, he turned to the others. “I think they’re buying it. The two other choppers are following the first. They’re fanning out on both sides of the van—I think that’s so they won’t lose sight of it under all those overhanging limbs. Now’s our chance!”
The four hurried to the Bronco and Mark took the driver’s seat.
“Hold on, everybody!” he said, and guided the Ford onto a path clearly not made for vehicles. It was barely wide enough to allow passage, and branches scraped at the side panels and windows. When they were traveling in what he thought was a straight line, he shut off the headlights.
“Any sign of the helicopters?” asked Mark.
“No,” Gwen shot back.
The Ford crawled forward, the undergrowth clawing at the battered SUV.
“Wait a second,” said Jan, “one of them is returning.”
Gwen turned around and looked out the rear window. “It’s hovering over the cabin.”
“Hope they don’t have heat-seeking detectors,” said Peter.
Mark kept the vehicle moving straight ahead. “We’ve got good cover,” he said, “but I might end up running us into a tree.”
“The chopper’s moving off,” Gwen said excitedly. “Headed back toward the main highway.”
Mark turned on the running lights every few yards, shutting them off again when he knew what was ahead.
“There!” exclaimed Gwen, pointing. “I think I see something.”
Other books
Just a Kiss in the Moonlight: Georgia Moon Romance Book 2 by Cindy Roland Anderson
The Hour of The Donkey by Anthony Price
GRINGA by Eve Rabi
Ally Hughes Has Sex Sometimes by Jules Moulin
Darklight by Lesley Livingston
Gray Back Bad Bear (Gray Back Bears Book 1) by T. S. Joyce
The Octagonal Raven by L. E. Modesitt
The Curvy Girl Next Door: A BBW Romance by Leila Lacey
The Case of the Missing Dinosaur Egg by Martha Freeman
A Very Mystic Christmas (The Mystic Wolves) by Belinda Boring
