Hybrid (37 page)

“Don’t worry Rachel, or whatever your name is. It’s just a harmless little cocktail we give to the animals when they get too excited. Just a little Fentanyl, a little Pentobarb, and a few other mild sedatives. It shouldn’t hurt you too bad. How do you feel?”

Despite his even tone, Martin was in a controlled rage. He couldn’t get at Jeser, but he certainly could take care of their spy. The military and FBI would treat her with kid gloves, and she would tell them nothing, safe in the knowledge that American law would prevent them from doing anything more uncomfortable than talking to her sternly.

Rachel’s head dropped, and she stopped straining against the handcuffs. For a moment, everyone thought that Martin had killed her. Then she gasped loudly, and her head came up. “My nose itches,” she mumbled.

“A common side effect of the narcotic,” Martin said and looked up to find that Adam Sabritas had joined the crowd of onlookers.

Adam’s hair was a mess, and he obviously hadn’t showered in days. He started to wave a sheet of paper at Martin, but then stopped when he saw Rachel.

Nathan turned to Martha as Rachel’s head lolled again. “See if you can find a cardiac monitor. I don’t want her to die on us.”

“I’m not sure you should be doing this,” Martha whispered quietly.

“I’m not going to let millions of people die when she has answers in her head. Her civil rights are not more important than their lives. You know no one else will do this, no one else can do this.” It was a singular moment of opportunity, and he would not look back on this moment with regret for not having done all he could.

Martha nodded and weaved her way through the growing crowd. Adam took the opportunity to move in closer.

“Dr. Martin,” he whispered, despite the fact that everyone could hear him. “I want to show you something.” But it was obviously not the right time. “I suppose it can wait.”

Rachel looked up and then around the room. A pale Larry Strickland had worked his way forward, and Rachel’s hypnotic eyes fell upon him.

“Do you want to tell him what we did on his desk?” Rachel spoke slowly and softly, each word understandable, but slurred.

Larry looked up at Martin, his face burning with humiliation and embarrassment.

“It was just—”

Martin waved him off and lifted Rachel’s chin. “I don’t care how many people you seduced, or where you seduced them. I want to know your name.”

“Maria. I am Maria Belsky.” She tried to lift her head proudly, but the wobble ruined the effect. “I am from Bosnia. You remember Bosnia.” She could barely form the words.

“Who sent you here?” Martin shook her arm to rouse her. “Somebody get me some Narcan and Romazicon.” He needed to reverse some of the sedative effect. A syringe was passed up the crowd to him, and he injected a quarter of the clear fluid into her shoulder. Cardiac and respiratory monitors were wheeled in, and Martha attached the leads to the young woman’s chest.

It took a couple of minutes, then her eyes opened widely, and for a second, she looked frightened and confused. “You can’t do this to me.” She was more awake but still drugged.

“Who sent you, Maria?” Martin’s voice was softer, more inviting.

It took her half a minute to respond. “Doesn’t matter if you know.” The words were still slow and slurred, but her eyes were open. “Dr. Avanti sent me. It was all his idea. He made the virus,” she whispered.

“Who did Dr. Avanti work for?” Martin continued with his soothing tone. Her eyelids began to flutter again; the shortacting Narcan was beginning to wear off, and she was about to sink back into the depths of unconsciousness.

“He never really knew, but I did,” she smiled crookedly. “It took me five years to work it out.” Her head dropped again.

Nathan looked up, and it was Martha who tripped to it first. “Maria, honey,” she said in a sweet southern drawl, “can you tell me who you work for?”

Maria tried to smile again, but the muscles in her face weren’t working well. “Lots of people. Dr. Martin is one of them.”

“And then there’s Dr. Avanti,” Martha said, and Maria nodded. “Do you work for anyone else?”

Her conscious mind tried to resist, but the drugs had put most of it to sleep, and her unconscious mind felt compelled to answer. Besides, it was fun to tell secrets, especially ones that showed how clever you’d been. “The First Directorate.”

Everyone in the room blinked except Martha. “
Mokete
bol nonfat mehr?
” she said, and everyone in the room blinked again.

“
Da, bol robopute ha pycckom rebike xopowo
.” Maria seemed to be more comfortable with Russian.

“
Caenante bol pabotaete ara Sluzhba Vnoshney Razvedki?
” Martha seemed just as comfortable.

“
Da, b teyehne debrtn net
.”

“Okay, Martha, what’s she saying?” Martin whispered in her ear.

“She’s a spy, a Russian spy.”

“Why are you here? You should be miles from here.” Amanda asked the approaching Oliver, and looked accusingly at Linda. They had moved to the relative calm of the ICU waiting room. Amanda had repeated her story to the FBI, and they had started the process of shutting down the Web site. She still had a needle in her arm as the second of two bags filled with her blood.

“We heard what happened on the radio,” Oliver said sheepishly. Amanda looked at Lisa questioningly. “It’s not her fault; I made her do it.” Oliver’s meaning was clear.

“Sorry about the jaw,” Amanda said to the priest after a second. “I’m too tired to look; can you tell where he’s gone?”

“Not exactly. I know he’s pretty far from here. He started out going south, but then he stopped. I thought he was trying to get out of the state, but now I’m not so sure. Are you all right?”

“I will be; just a little down after our encounter.” An idea had been forming in her mind, and she tried to appraise the priest’s inner strength. “Father, do you remember yesterday’s lesson. Can you find and focus on a single mind among many?”

Lisa piped in. “He certainly focused in on my mind.”

“But you were sitting right next to him,” she turned to her mother-in-law. “Can you do it on a stranger, in a crowd? I don’t mean someone like Reisch; can you do it on someone who is unaware?”

“I can see where you’re going with this, Amanda,” Patton said.

“I think so; how is that going to help us find Reisch?” Oliver asked.

Amanda quickly explained what she had learned from Reisch. “There are eleven people out there, and each one is as dangerous as Reisch. I’m guessing that they have to be in or near major population centers—certainly New York, L.A., and Chicago.”

Oliver looked dubious. ”There are millions of people in those places. How do I find just one mind?”

“It’s not as farfetched as it seems. That one mind will have unique characteristics—excitement, fear, a sense of purpose and finality. It will be a singular pattern. You should be able to sense it and then home in.”

“A psychic bloodhound,” Greg said.

“Well, I can try,” Oliver said, a singular pattern of fear and excitement filling his mind.

“At least it will keep you out of my way,” Amanda smiled.

“Pick a place,” Patton said getting to his feet.

“New York?” Oliver said. “I’ve never been there and I’m sure it would be a target they would want to hit.” Oliver looked around the room for consensus.

“As good a place as any,” Patton said and practically lifted the priest to his feet. “At least we’ll be doing something.” Patton’s gaze fell on Amanda. “I’m still responsible for you. Are you going to behave?”

“As soon as I recover, I’m going after him. I will do what I have to do.” Amanda was getting tired of saying that to people. “But I have to do it alone.” She looked in turn at Lisa, Greg, and finally Oliver.”

“Fair enough,” Patton said, guiding Oliver to the door.

“You’re taking him now?” Greg asked. “It might be helpful if I went with him.” He quickly looked at his wife.

Patton looked at Oliver and then Amanda.

“I feel like a piece of meat,” Oliver quipped.

“Well, we’ll meet you downstairs,” Patton said and walked out of the waiting room. After a moment’s hesitation, Oliver followed.

“As soon as this is done, I was thinking about going home and taking a nap. I’m in no shape to do this again.” She said to her in-laws.

“I can drive her,” Lisa said. “Go, do your job,” she said to Greg. He kissed them both and followed after them.

“What’s it like, knowing what everyone around you is thinking?” Patton asked Oliver as they waited for the elevator.

“I haven’t been doing it for very long, but usually it’s rather sad,” Oliver said, hitting the down button for the elevator.

Patton looked at him with a frown.

“Most people scurry around, wrapped up in selfish and superficial concerns. They’re so involved with the trivial aspects of life that they never really learn what’s important to them.”

“Jesus Christ,” Patton said without thinking. “How depressing.”

Oliver shook his head. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. Once you break through that superficial layer, you realize that most people are just like you. We all are driven by the same needs, we all want the same things, and we all are plagued by the same insecurities. All the same basic programs have been written into our souls, and that’s what connects us.”

Oliver’s voice trailed away as a young couple approached. The woman was carrying a new baby and was engrossed in his smiles and cooing. The young man shuffled behind them; an aura of blackness enveloped him. Even Patton could feel the cloud of malignancy that surrounded him.

The elevator door opened, and Patton stopped his appraisal of the young man long enough to squeeze into the car behind him. The door closed, and Oliver shifted closer to the two parents, pushing Patton’s stomach up against the polished stainless steel. Patton grunted and looked down at the priest and found him staring intently at the couple. For a moment, he thought he was about to bless the baby, but then the elevator dinged and the door slid open. Patton took three large steps and waited for Oliver. The priest caught up to him and paused. “Wait here for just a moment, Rodney,” he whispered as the young parents walked toward the lobby doors.

The young man stumbled a little, and then he let out a scream that filled the two-story atrium. He grabbed his head and fell to his knees, cries of pain echoing off the glass. The new mother was startled at first. She tried to bend down to her husband, but he was thrashing so wildly he threatened her baby. Then she started to scream for help, and the baby began to cry. Patton leapt forward and gently brushed her aside. He took hold of the smaller man’s shoulders and eased him to the floor. His screams were reduced to intermittent yelps that were almost as bad as the blood-curdling yells; his wife and child were crying so loudly that Patton wanted to be anywhere other than between them.

A few moments later, a nurse and two white-coated older men arrived and took over. Patton backed away as rapidly as the growing crowd would let him and just stared as they attended to the stricken young man. He found Oliver comforting the young mother; he had guided her away from the commotion and was practically whispering in her ear. The baby had quieted, but Mom continued to cry. She began to respond to what the priest was telling her, nodding her head. Patton didn’t think it was wise to intrude, so he waited as more help arrived, some of which was directed to the woman.