Nefarious (The Blackwell Files Book 1) (13 page)

Fourteen Months Later

CHAPTER 35

Alpharetta, Georgia

Alton sat in his office at Kruptos Inc., a tech company specializing in electronic communication encryption and security. When his Army career had ended over a year ago, he had sought to employ his cryptographic skills in a civilian role. His unique qualifications and hands-on experience had landed him a managerial job at Kruptos, a firm many considered to be the leader of the telecom security industry. Alton enjoyed his new job more than he had expected but missed the field work and challenge of his Army career. And he missed the friendships.

He had suffered greatly after leaving Kabul, even more than he had expected. However, the knowledge of following the proper course of action respecting Mallory had steeled his resolve. While he still communicated regularly with his distant friends, he had never revealed to Mallory the full extent of his feelings for her. Over time, those feelings had begun to cut a little less sharply, yet he had never found it in his heart to form a new attachment, nor could he imagine wanting to do so.

After studying the phone for a few minutes, he called the FBI offices in Washington, DC.

“Forensic Accounting, this is Agent Wilson.”

“Mallory, it’s Alton. How are you?”

“Alton—hey, buddy!” she exclaimed. “I was beginning to think you had forgotten me.”

“Never,” he said, laughing. “Hey, how’s the new job working out? Do you still like it?”

“Yeah, so far, so good. It’s only been what, half a year? But so far it’s cool. No more chasing down minor paperwork infractions here. Any time a white-collar investigation reaches the FBI, it’s serious, just the way I like it.”

“So that’s how an Army accountant ends up qualifying for the FBI?”

“That’s right, so you better not cheat on your taxes, or I’ll be after you,” she teased. “Seriously, it’s fascinating work. My job—pursuing finance and accounting crimes—is essentially the same as the one I had in the Army, but the perpetrators are generally smarter. One thing that never changes, though, is the trail that’s inevitably left behind. Even paper money flows through financial institutions at some point.”

“It sounds like you’re flourishing. I’m happy for you.” He
was
happy for her, genuinely. So why did he feel a strange sense of loss at the ease with which she moved on?

“Thanks, Alton. Say, do you stay in touch with anyone back in C
2
or your first unit?”

“Yeah. I talk with David Dunlow pretty often. He’s still working for the Secret Service, up in your neck of the woods….Yes, he still calls me ‘Al,’ the wanker. And I keep in touch with Fahima. Do you remember how she and David were going to get married in Kabul? That’s changed. Fahima’s dad died just last month, and she doesn’t have any other family there. So, now she’s going to try to get her US visa so she and David can marry here in the states. Jacob, David’s dad, is too old to travel there, so if Fahima can come here, Jacob and you and I could all attend the wedding.”

“Oh—I’d love that!” chimed in Mallory.

Alton continued to ponder Mallory’s original question. “Let’s see…I helped Zach Lambert, a sergeant from the Seventy-Sixth, land a job here at Kruptos. He and I worked together on the mobcom van for over a year. He’s good at his job but has had a few rough spots readjusting to civilian life. On a brighter note, I still e-mail Mastana every week or so. She’s a star student—not that I’m surprised. Those folks and you are the only people I’ve kept up with.”

He was silent for a moment. “I was wondering….that is, I was thinking about coming up to the DC area on the twenty-fifth, maybe stay for a few days. Would you like to get together if I do?”

“Sure,” she said initially, but then continued. “Dang, I just remembered…I promised my mom I would visit her that weekend for her birthday. I’ll be in Charlotte until that Monday night.”

“Maybe next time, then,” said Alton, as cheerfully as he could.

“Definitely. I’ve only seen you once since I’ve been state-side. That’s not enough.”

They spoke a while longer and promised to stay in touch.

After the call, Alton slowly replaced the phone in its cradle and stared at the ceiling, thinking of Mallory. He was still surprised at the abrupt end of her Army enlistment. In Afghanistan, she had stated on many occasions her intention to make a career of the military. However, rather than renewing her contract last year, she had inexplicably let it expire and returned to the US. When Alton had asked her about it, she had laughed it off.

“Plans change, you know?” she had said.

Alton turned his thoughts to his previous visit with Mallory, two months ago. He could never be sure whether she had truly enjoyed it or had simply endured it for the sake of a disabled ex-comrade. She had encouraged him to come again, though, so he saw no harm in acceding to her request. However, he tempered any unwarranted speculation his mind was inclined to create with the recollection of the magnetic effect Mallory always seemed to exert on the male gender. She was never flirtatious. Rather, she possessed a natural warmth that just seemed to attract people, most of whom did not have a limp.

CHAPTER 36

Research Triangle Park, North Carolina

The telephone rang with a low, pulsating tone, as if underwater.

“Briggsfield Pharmaceuticals, this is Jeffrey Finch,” answered the office’s occupant.

“Mr. Finch,” said the caller, “I’d like to talk with you about the clinical trials your company is currently conducting on a new rabies vaccine.”

“Wait—who is this?”

“For the moment, I can’t reveal my identity, but I will send you my credentials within the next forty-eight hours. Rest assured that I operate at a level of government high enough to significantly influence the outcome of your drug’s development and potential approval, either for the better or for the worse.”

“I see. So, exactly why are you calling?” asked Finch, glancing at his office door to ensure no one had entered.

“Come now, Mr. Finch, I think you know why. Given your occupation, surely you’re aware that the CDC routinely screens for disease trends that fall outside normal parameters. It’s their standard protocol for early detection of outbreaks of communicable diseases.”

“Fascinating. But why are you calling me with this information?”

“Imagine how surprised the CDC analysts were when they recently saw not just a spike in hemophilia but also a blip in heart attacks and strokes. They used hospital records and federal agency reporting to triangulate in on the points of origin. Would you care to guess what they found?”

There was nothing but silence on the line. Finch wasn’t going to do the man’s job for him.

“The illnesses were centered in two geographic areas,” continued the caller, “one about twenty miles east of Durham, North Carolina, the other thirty miles north of Dahlonega, Georgia. Coincidentally, your company has facilities near both of these sites. Briggsfield produces and tests new drugs—chemicals—at both of these sites. Do I have to connect the rest of the dots for you?”

“There have been a few regrettable accidents, but no fatalities,” conceded Finch. “I don’t think there’s cause for alarm.”

“Do you think the media would share that perspective?”

“What do you want?” asked Finch through tight lips.

“The same thing you do,” reassured the caller. “Your government would like you to develop a rabies vaccine that can be disbursed via an aerosol spray, ideally from a low-flying aircraft. It must have high efficacy, or it’s of no use to us.”

“Why the cloak and dagger, then?” asked Finch. “Assuming it passes the clinical trials, why not just buy it when it comes on the market?”

“Mr. Finch, now you have penetrated to the heart of the matter…”

CHAPTER 37

Alpharetta, Georgia

“Hey, Captain, do you have a minute?”

“Sure, Sergeant Lambert,” replied Alton. “Come on in. What’s up?”

Zach Lambert entered Alton’s Kruptos office. When they were alone, Lambert and Alton naturally reverted to their former military titles. Lambert was a short, stocky redhead whose easygoing demeanor often led new acquaintances to underestimate the expertise and passion he brought to his work.

“I’m going camping this weekend. You interested in going?”

“Thanks, Lambert, but I can’t. I asked the Jana project team to come in this weekend. I can’t ask them to report to the office but go AWOL myself. But tell me, where are you headed?”

“A little north of Dahlonega. You know Chuck, the guy in the cubicle next to me? He told me about a place off the map, just woods and a stream. ‘Very calm,’ he says. The weather’s nice this time of year, too. It’ll be a hell of a lot more comfortable than Gazib.” For a moment, he gazed at the ceiling with a distant expression. “Sometimes it’s good to have peace and quiet, you know? No noises, just you and nature. It’s like the peace on the outside helps you feel more peaceful on the inside. You know what I mean?”

“Yes, I understand. I feel the same way,” replied Alton.

“Gail didn’t understand that. I think there were a lot of things she didn’t understand about me when I came home. Hell, most of the issues we had came down to me being a different guy from the person I was when I was deployed a few years ago. I know I can’t get her back, but I don’t want to be the ‘GI Joe’ version of me for the rest of my life, either. I want to be the real me, you know?—the guy I was before I was deployed. I’m proud of my service, but I don’t want the Army to be the only thing that defines who I am as a man. Somehow, I find my real self when I’m in the woods, you know?”

“Yeah, Sergeant Lambert, I know what you mean. I think it will be good for you, even if it’s a solo trip.”

“Sure, Captain. Well, maybe next time.”

“You bet. Hey, take some pictures.”

CHAPTER 38

Outside Cohutta National Forest, Northern Georgia

The next day, Lambert departed for the north Georgia mountains. After parking at the prescribed mile marker, he strapped on his pack and carefully picked his way through the woods, constantly referring to the campsite’s GPS coordinates and to his compass for the heading needed to take him there. Eventually, he arrived at the desired spot and was delighted to find it as tranquil as he had hoped. There were no trails or indications of people. The site’s peaceful solitude offered relief to the troubles that can fill a man’s mind.

After pitching his tent, Lambert constructed a fire pit, cooked his dinner over the resulting campfire, ate, and crawled into his tent for the night. The quiet calls of nocturnal frogs and crickets lulled him to sleep.

In the early morning hours, Lambert opened his eyes with a start, unsure of what exactly had awoken him. Then he heard the second boom, a low sound that reverberated for a quarter-minute. He crawled out of the tent to see if he could spot the source of the noise. It was nighttime, but the landscape was well-illuminated with a nearly full moon. Adrenalin heightened his senses; he was aware of the wind blowing restlessly through the trees and the grass rustling. Then he saw faint lights in the distance, and heard even fainter voices. He began walking towards the lights, but within two minutes encountered a ten-foot-high fence capped with rolls of razor wire. The words “private reserve” were printed on a metallic sign that was fastened to the fence.

Lambert shook his head in surprise. He hadn’t expected to run into concertina wire in such an isolated spot.

“I feel like I’m back in friggin’ Gazib,” he mumbled to himself.

Lambert was still intrigued, but since his progress was halted, he didn’t expect to discover much more about the strange activities. As he stood facing the fence, a third boom sounded from much closer, and the entire area reverberated for half a minute. As the noise died down, other strange sounds moved closer, and Lambert witnessed an odd procession of men and equipment emerge from heavy undergrowth only a few dozen yards away. Those in the procession behind the fence were close enough for Lambert to observe them clearly, although they didn’t appear to notice him.

Their machinery roared to life with a rush, and the shock wave it created pushed Lambert backwards with such force that he landed on his back, stunned. He began to stand, but a wave of lightheadedness engulfed him, causing him to fall heavily on his side. As his vision darkened, he heard more noises from beyond the fence but could not resist an inexorable slide into unconsciousness.

CHAPTER 39

Durham, North Carolina

In the dim light of the Blue Devil Tavern, the two occupants of the back table blended into the shadows so well that they were scarcely discernible. One of them wore a cowboy hat and a polo shirt emblazoned with a “Briggsfield” logo. The other wore dark sunglasses.

“I don’t like the idea of meeting in person,” said Polo.

“I like the idea of communicating remotely even less,” said Sunglasses. “Security is tantamount. We don’t have to worry about a bugged call or intercepted e-mail if we don’t use those means of communication.”

“So why did you want to meet?”

“I had the impression you’re having second thoughts about this project.”

“Well, yes, I am reluctant,” said Polo. “We’ve already had some people get sick. Considering Rabinil is administered as an airborne mist, it’s likely that people will continue to come in contact with it. I don’t want anyone else to become ill during the testing.”

“I understand your concern,” said Sunglasses, “but I think the answer lies in employing better protective measures during the testing, not scrapping the project.”

“Even if we use ‘better protective measures’ now, what good are they if the finished product is hazardous to humans, one of the primary target populations for this vaccine?”

“We know we need to change the formula. That’s the point of the development process, right? You systematically test drug combinations that should
theoretically
get the job done and see which ones actually work out in the field with a minimum of side effects. You focus on keeping the good immunological properties while minimizing the unwanted side effects.”

Sunglasses could see that Polo was beginning to accede, so he pressed his case. “You only have to keep the testers protected until the new, better formula is developed. Don’t give up now. Remember why you’re pursuing this vaccine in the first place.”

“Okay,” conceded Polo. “We’ll stay the course.”

“Good. One last thing: if news of these employee ‘accidents’ leaks to the press, which is possible, Briggsfield will need to be ready with a plausible explanation.”

“If the news does leak out, the press won’t be talking to me. But I can see to it that the public relations team is ready with an appropriate explanation, just in case.”