Pestilence (Jack Randall #2) (24 page)

“Hello, ladies,” he greeted Thelma and Louise, his two control monkeys. Although they had never received a shot from him, they had seen him do it to others and were extra wary today, as if the sight of a human in a space suit wasn’t reason enough to be scared. The monkeys sensed the presence of danger and while they did not understand why, they knew it was around them everyday. While he was fond of his two control monkeys, he always regarded them as dangerous just for this reason.

Finished with his morning chores, he returned to the lab and picked up the tray he had brought with him holding the red top vial. After his disappointment in finding anything significant with the yellow top vial he was looking forward to the new puzzle of the red top. Today he would try to crack it.

First things first, he broke the vial down into several smaller samples as he had the first one. He fired up his bio-analyzer, placed a sample on a card and stuck it in the machine. This time he didn’t wait to see what popped up before moving on to prep the rest of the samples. He still had some other trials going on that needed attention, too.

After a couple of hours he broke away from his other research and checked on the machine’s progress. There were multiple readouts on the screen, but the primary was a surprise:

Virus classification

Group: Group V ((-)ssRNA

Order:
Mononegavirales

Family:
Paramyxoviridae

Genus:
Avulavirus

Species:
Newcastle disease virus (NDV)

There were nothing but fragments listed after that. The usual suspects of flu, rhinovirus, TB. He scanned down the readout looking for any anomalies. On the second page he got a surprise. Smallpox. Although it showed up occasionally, it was rare. As long as it was a fragment it was nothing to worry about. He was surprised by the length of the list. It was up to three pages and the machine was still adding to it. He decided to run another sample after this one had played out just to be sure.

He reached up to scratch his nose but caught himself before he smudged his helmet. A glance at the clock told him he had been in the suit for over five hours. It was time for a break. He needed to know more about this Newcastle virus. He dealt primarily with the human infections and if he remembered right, Newcastle infected birds.

He pushed the print key and looked through the glass into the Level 3 lab to make sure the printer was working before heading out to the decontamination shower. He would have to consult an expert. Fortunately he had one.

An hour later he had Lynda sitting across from him in his office with the Terminator looking over her shoulder as she pet Tommi, who had found a warm perch in her lap.

“Newcastle huh? Is it a vaccine?”

“I don’t know yet, I’m still getting more information, but the machine’s chewed on it for a few hours now and that’s the only primary it’s spit out so far.” He didn’t feel it was the time to tell her about all the fragments that were attached. He’d dig into that himself.

“Do you know it?”

“The basics. Care to fill me in?”

“Well, it’s a zoonotic bird disease that affects both domestic and wild species. If it got into the poultry industry it has the potential to wipe it out. There are vaccines already out there, but there’s no cure. Depending on the strain, it has about a 90% or more mortality rate. Fortunately, we don’t have it domestically. Last outbreak was back in ’74, I think. Before my time.”

“Tough bug?”

“Yes, mostly spread through direct contact. High concentrations are found in the droppings of the infected birds. They also have heavy secretions from the nose, mouth and eyes. They track it around, it gets in their feed. Stick an infected bird in a confined space with other birds, like say a commercial chicken farm, and they all have it pretty quick. We try to keep it from coming into the country, but the damn smugglers are gonna get it past us sooner or later.”

“Chicken smugglers?”

“No, silly, Amazon parrots are the main threat. Illegal pet parrots from Latin America are high dollar and we require a lengthy quarantine and testing process. The smugglers do their best to get around it and increase their profit margin. Incubation runs from two to fifteen days. We cage ’em for thirty. Sooner or later some chicken farmer’s gonna buy an illegal parrot for his kid and end the poultry business here in the US for a while.”

“Don’t we vaccinate?”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t always take. Like I said, there are several strains. Some aren’t even lethal, just cause a mild sickness that most people wouldn’t even notice in their flock. Worst thing it can do to humans is cause conjunctivitis.”

“So what’s the best way to go about testing it? How do we know if it’s a vaccine?”

“If you give me a sample, I can run an Enzyme Linked Immunosorbant Assay and a PCR. That’ll narrow it down. I can give you some birds to test from my department. You have a space to keep them?”

“I have some room in my monkey cage in Bio-4. Will they be okay together?”

“Should be, so long as they aren’t in contact. I’d just keep a distance between them. Newcastle doesn’t have a thing for monkeys.” She paused while Tommi stretched out and rolled over in her lap. “She’s gaining weight already. She looks good. How you two getting along?”

“She likes to sleep on my head.”

“Just keep shooing her away, she’ll get the idea.”

“I hope she gets it soon.”

Lynda laughed and scooped up the kitten as she stood. She deposited it in his lap before she turned to leave.

“I’ve got a meeting. Call me if you need anything else. I’ll send over the birds this afternoon.”

“Okay, thanks for the help.”

He thought about the incubation period as Tommi chewed on his knuckle. Two to fifteen days. He would inject the birds as soon as they arrived. He didn’t want to wait too long to see what he had.

•      •      •

Jack relaxed as he worked the clutch and wheel with practiced hands. He was currently heading east on the Blue Star Highway and for once traffic was in his favor. The Corvette responded to his every wish as he threaded his way through trucks and slower traffic. He glanced across the divider at the rush hour traffic moving into DC and smiled.

His car was his sanctuary and he had indulged himself when ordering it. While he certainly could have afforded any of the exotic sports cars available these days, he had never been one to flaunt his wealth. The Corvette had every option offered, along with a few after-market improvements as well, all in a package that appeared to match any other model on the road. It was what car buffs called a “sleeper,” a car that looked normal on the outside, but once past the skin was anything but.

So whenever Jack could, he drove. At the speed he wanted, with the radio tuned to the music he enjoyed. And while he had a Bluetooth headset handy, it rarely left the cup holder. It seemed to him that the faster he went, the more relaxed he became, and outside disturbances were not welcome.

So while he had cursed himself for his error last night, he found himself enjoying the results at the moment. He and Debra had spent the weekend at the beach house on the Delaware shore. He had, of course, brought some work along, despite the looks his wife gave him. Part of which was a computer disc he had mistakenly left behind when they’d departed the previous evening. It was both current to his embassy report as well as somewhat secret, so he had been forced to call Larry to provide some cover for him while he ran to the beach to retrieve it.

But it gave him time to think. As he slowed for a construction zone he thought about the phone call he had gotten from Sydney. The professor was confused as to what the vial contained. He said it was the flu vaccine plus something else. Jack had done his best to follow Sydney’s explanation about DNA and virus strands, but had quickly gotten lost. She had the head for that he never would, so he just followed along until she ran out of steam. While she seemed to be excited about the mystery of the vial’s contents, he’d had to prod her back to the original question.

Why would someone be willing to risk their life and be willing to kill others for the vials? Despite the professor’s findings, they still didn’t know. Maybe the red top vial would have some answers. He hoped so.

As he rounded a truck he reached up to adjust the visor as the sun was creeping higher. The man had said another week, so they would just have to wait. But right now he had plenty of pavement for him and his car to play. Jack slipped on his sunglasses and pressed down on the accelerator. The Corvette responded with a throaty roar.

•      •      •

Jack kept the car at barely above idle speed as he crept down the crushed shell street to the beach house. The shells were rough on the car’s paint. He automatically took note of his neighbors’ places as he passed. It was something they all did for each other as they were all part-time residents. Surprisingly, his neighbors had a van parked in the driveway. As he moved the Corvette closer he read “Bob’s Heating and Air” on the side. There was nobody visible in the cab. The door to the house was closed as well as the garage door. Funny, the Johnsons usually weren’t back for another week or two. Should he stop and check it out? No, he had to get the disc and get back, maybe on his way out.

Jack exited the car, leaving the door hanging open. He only planned on grabbing the disc and leaving.

He fumbled with the door code before throwing it open and striding for the bedroom. He found the disc on the dresser next to the DVD they had watched while it was raining. This time he checked the labels, it would be pretty bad to turn in an Adam Sandler movie rather than the FBI report he was putting together. He grabbed the right one and moved back into the hallway.

For some reason he glanced into the guestroom as he turned the corner. Something caught his eye. There was a boot print on the carpet. He tried to recall if they had entered the room over the weekend but he knew he hadn’t. It was definitely a man’s boot, much too big to be his wife’s. The room had been cleaned and the carpet vacuumed on the previous weekend and the telltale lines of the vacuum were still in the carpet. It was as if someone had stepped in and then back out. One print.

Jack’s instincts flared. He reached for his Browning before he realized it was in the center console of the Corvette. It became a pain in the ribs on long drives. His backup was at the office. But Jack was a Boy Scout once—he was prepared.

He stepped out into the hallway and silently opened a linen closet. Reaching around in back of a stack of sheets he pulled out a loaded Glock 17 along with an extra clip. Tucking the clip in his belt, he returned to the bedroom and cleared it. Picking up the bedside phone he dialed 911 and stuffed the receiver under the pillow before it made noise in the quiet house. He repeated the clearing process on the guest room before returning to the hallway and moving back toward the living area. Pausing at the end of the hallway, he used the reflections off the pictures on the walls and windows to examine the room. He saw nothing.

That left the kitchen, the office, a small sitting room and the garage. There was also a laundry room small enough to hide one person. He decided to go through the kitchen. As he advanced, the sound of the Corvette’s engine running helped silence his approach, as did the black athletic shoes he now wore every day. The shoes had gotten a few looks from his coworkers, but after running through the snow-covered streets of DC on his last mission he had vowed to never wear office shoes again. Goodwill had some very good contributions that month.

He ducked low to see under the hanging pots and pans. The kitchen was clear. He now had to move down a small hallway past the laundry room to get to the garage. There was no other way.

•      •      •

Pure frickin’ luck, the thief was thinking to himself. He had just happened to step into the guestroom when he saw the Corvette ease down the street. He had quickly left the room and made for the door, but it was already too late. He remembered the laundry room and quickly hid behind its bi-fold doors. He forced himself to stay calm and breathe easy. Jack wasn’t here to do laundry. Since he was without a team this time, he had replaced everything as he went, so there shouldn’t be anything out of place for him to notice. He heard the
tisk-tisk
of a warning in his earbud mic. Kinda late, but the man was in the back of the van and probably didn’t see Jack approach until it was too late. He strained to hear anything as he looked through the gaps in the louvered door. He would just watch for Jack to leave and then complete the job. He just hoped that whatever it was Jack was after, it wasn’t his favorite shirt.

That wish died as he saw Jack move around the corner with a gun in his hand.

•      •      •

The driver cursed when he saw the car pull past the van. He kept still so Jack would not see any movement from the back as he passed. He was clearly eyeballing the van though. He hissed a warning to the man inside and then slowly moved to the driver’s seat and adjusted the power mirror so he could see the front door of the beach house. If his guy came out quick he would be ready. If Jack came out, well, he had a clipboard to hide behind when he passed. He reached out and started the van.

•      •      •

Jack’s concentration was broken only for an instant when he glanced in the direction of the sound of the van starting, but that was all it took. The door to the laundry room he had been approaching flew out at him, followed by a masked man. Jack managed to avoid the elbow coming at his head, but caught the knee squarely in his gut, knocking the wind from him and planting him on the floor. He rolled toward the garage once and managed to catch a glimpse of the man rounding the corner into the kitchen, heading for the front door. Jack aimed but held his fire when he saw no weapon in the man’s hand. Grunting against the pain he rose and forced himself to follow. By the time he made the front door he had his wind back and was pissed. He paused on the porch to see the man running toward the van parked next door. He leveled the gun and was rewarded with a round tearing into the frame of the deck in front of him from the driver of the van. He dropped and rolled to the left before rising and pumping two rounds back in return. They impacted the side of the van as it fishtailed in the crushed shell street, its engine roaring as the driver stomped the accelerator.