Reckless Creed (22 page)

OUTSIDE ATLANTA, GEORGIA

I
s it possible this place won't show up on my GPS?” Creed asked.

The last turn had put them on an old two-lane blacktop that seemed to wind and loop with no purpose. They hadn't passed a house or any sign of civilization in over ten miles.

“I couldn't find it on the satellite either,” O'Dell answered from the passenger seat. “The place is supposedly off the grid. But these are the coordinates Agent Alonzo provided.”

Creed shot her a look. “Any chance he got it wrong?”

“He hasn't been wrong yet.”

Creed still wasn't sure how Alonzo had managed to get the license plate number. Maggie had explained about the security cameras next door to the care facility where Carl Shaw lived. On the last day that Dr. Stephen Bishop visited, there had been only one vehicle with a Georgia license plate. Using enhanced technology, Alonzo had been able to pull the number.

The black sedan was registered to the National Bio and Agro-Defense Facility, a sprawling campus outside Atlanta located at the foot of the Smoky Mountains and conveniently hidden in the
forest. It coincidentally worked closely with DARPA and housed Level 4 laboratories. And it also housed agricultural projects. Several scientists at the facility had been instrumental in working with the USDA during the recent bird flu when millions of commercial poultry were infected.

“Was this place ever on your radar?” Creed asked.

“No, it wasn't. There was no evidence that they had Level 4 pathogens here since 2011, so we didn't know about the labs until Ben made some phone calls.”

He knew that Maggie and Platt had worked together for the last twenty-four hours running down information on the facility. Platt had somehow even managed to get them access, gaining security clearance for Creed, Maggie, and Grace.

Platt had wanted to come along. Having him and his credentials would certainly make this visit easier. But Maggie insisted that if Colonel Abraham Hess was involved, they couldn't risk the DARPA director finding out and possibly tipping off Shaw. And Platt's name on the visitors list could actually do just that. There would be many more questions about why the director of USAMRIID would suddenly choose to go to this particular facility.

Instead, Grace would be the focal point. She had an appointment with a scientist at the facility who was working on a device that could duplicate canine scent capabilities. Creed knew there were programs across the country trying to build what they called “an iron nose.” Hannah had received phone calls from several asking for their dogs to participate in the research, but Creed had always declined. He was skeptical. A dog's nose was amazing and complicated. He didn't believe science would ever be able to duplicate it effectively.

Creed glanced in the rearview mirror. Grace was in her usual spot. She was watching between the front seats, staring out the windshield, already anxious to get to work.

Maggie had brought an evidence bag with unwashed personal belongings from Dr. Clare Shaw's North Carolina apartment. The bag had been sealed five months ago and had been sitting on a shelf since then. He knew that enough of the scientist's scent would have been preserved with the belongings, absorbed by the clothing's fabrics. He had asked for at least one pair of well-worn shoes to be included, and if possible a pair of dirty socks.

People often wondered why dogs chewed up their shoes and loved their socks, especially when they left the dogs alone. Sometimes it was just a bored dog, but most of the time what the dog wanted was the scent of the owner—they found comfort in having those items. Also, shoes rarely got laundered. And no matter what Clare Shaw's new disguise was, she probably hadn't changed much about her feet. The scent would be the same.

Their plan was to find the Biosafety Level 4 laboratories and catch Shaw off guard—that is, if she was actually at this facility. Creed was hoping Grace would then be able to identify her no matter what Shaw's new disguise. He had faith the little dog could certainly accomplish the task. However, he'd warned Maggie that Shaw's new identity would include new scents. Some of them would replace old ones. If she was dressing like a man she might also be using more masculine-scented soap, shampoo, deodorant.

But there were other natural scents attributed to each individual, and some of those would be difficult to mask even with new skin and hair care products. Creed knew that a dog could smell fingerprints left on a wall the week before. He had seen Grace
sniff out his footprints on a wood floor after others had walked over his tracks. An average person sheds about thirty to forty thousand skin cells per hour. Though weathered and dry, these still held scent. Scent that Grace could separate and identify. Or at least, Creed hoped she could.

“Up ahead,” Maggie told him as she pointed.

Through the trees Creed could finally see slivers of redbrick buildings.

HARTSFIELD-JACKSON ATLANTA INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT
GEORGIA

T
his was it.
Or so Jason thought as he watched Winnie.

Her nose was in the air and her breathing was getting more and more rapid. She strained at the end of the leash. She had led him across the aisle to the boarding gate they were supposed to check out next. But the crowd was thick here. It was obviously a larger plane with many more passengers than their last several searches. They couldn't just walk up and down through the seated and standing passengers. In some places they couldn't get through at all.

A few people saw Winnie's vest with
WORKING DOG
on the side, and they helped make a path for her and Jason. Others ignored them. He had to ask them to please move. Not an ideal situation. He wasn't supposed to draw attention to himself or to his dog. It pissed him off when people wouldn't move for Winnie, but then they'd glance at his empty shirtsleeve and move back. He didn't care if they were being polite or if they were disgusted, he just didn't want to be treated any differently.

To make things more complicated, Winnie was still paying way
too much attention to the little boy. The kid now wrestled with his mother, who was trying to keep him from running toward Winnie. At one point the young mother asked Jason if her son could pet the dog. He shook his head and pointed to Winnie's vest. Under the word
WORKING DOG
it read in smaller letters
DO NOT PET
.

Jason still couldn't figure out who Winnie was zeroing in on. The dog slowed at times, even stopping once in front of a group of teenagers. He had already activated the phone app and signaled that he might have a virus carrier. He didn't care if Winnie ended up with a false alert. He wanted DHS here. He'd let them decide what to do with the person, if and when the dog lay down at someone's feet.

She kept circling back to the little boy. What was it about little kids? Had the dog been taken away from one who was important to her? Maybe she hadn't seen too many before and they fascinated her. Or was it that this boy made so much noise? Whatever the reason, Jason started to get impatient.

He tried to shut out all the noises and concentrate only on Winnie. He needed to calm himself, to slow down his own breathing so that the dog didn't smell his anxiety. She had already looked up at him twice with her head cocked to the side as if asking if he was okay. Once again, he forced himself to remember all the things Creed had taught him.

His phone started to vibrate. Jason ordered Winnie to sit so he could hold her leash and answer the phone.

“This is Charlie,” Wurth said. “I'm headed your way. Just wanted to warn you. Keep your distance from the target. Hannah and Tillie tracked one about twenty minutes ago and the girl
freaked and tried to get away. Started shoving and punching passengers around her.”

“Son of a bitch,” Jason muttered.

“I'll see you in five.”

Wurth ended the call before Jason could tell him that he hadn't located the carrier yet. Or if there even was one. Winnie stared hard at the little boy and the whole time her nose was working the air.

Then Jason saw the guy.

He was standing behind the little boy and the mother. The man was pretending to not be interested in Winnie, and yet he was watching her every move from beneath the brim of his ball cap. From twenty feet away, Jason could see that the man was sweating . . . a lot.

J
ason took Winnie around to the far side of the row of filled seats. It was difficult to navigate over waiting passengers' feet and their luggage sprawled between the rows. He wanted to come at the man from a different angle just to make sure this was Winnie's target.

He saw the emblem on the man's ball cap, and at first Jason thought he'd misjudged the guy. The black cap had
22KILL
embroidered in red on the crown. The
22KILL
represented the twenty-two veterans who were killed by suicide every day on a yearly average.

That's how they worded it: “killed by suicide” not “committed suicide.” The idea being that many of these veterans would not have chosen suicide if they had not been suffering from PTSD or other mental and physical disorders caused by their service. The organization hoped to raise awareness to the epidemic.

Jason knew all this because Tony had talked about joining. Now he glanced at the man's right hand and he could see the black
band—the honor ring—that members wore symbolically on their trigger finger. It was meant to be a silent salute to all vets.

Maybe the guy had been watching Jason, not Winnie. If he was a veteran, Jason's amputated arm might have brought back memories of his own combat service.

Jason was just about to dismiss him and start examining the surrounding passengers, but then Winnie began shoving her way through the maze of luggage. Jason gave her a longer lead so he could stay back. From his position, the man in the black ball cap would be able to see Jason through the crowd, but he couldn't see Winnie down below, hidden by legs and bags and seats.

For a second or two even Jason couldn't see the dog, but he held the retractable leash tight then felt it stop before it reached its limit.

Winnie had stopped.

Jason felt a kick of panic in his gut. He tried to see her through the crowded mass. There was no way he could just reel the dog back. He glanced over heads and around bodies. Another dozen seconds went by and now Jason couldn't see the man in the black ball cap.

THE NATIONAL BIO AND AGRO-DEFENSE FACILITY
GEORGIA

O
'Dell and Creed had gotten through the security checkpoint. They were on the visitors list just as Platt had promised. O'Dell tried to shake the heated argument the two of them had about whether Platt should come along. She knew he just wanted to help, but his name on a visitors list would have drawn too much attention. The truth was Platt still trusted Colonel Hess even after what happened in North Carolina. And because of that, O'Dell didn't trust Platt's judgment when it came to Hess.

The guard didn't even seem interested in Grace or their reason to be here. When Creed asked directions to the scientist they were meeting, the guard circled the building on a map of the campus and handed it to Creed.

Because the man was so lax, O'Dell decided to risk pushing the envelope and asked, “I'd like to drop by and say hello to an old friend who just started here. Can you tell us which building Dr. Stephen Bishop works in?”

He stared at her. Then he picked up a small spiral-bound book and started flipping through it. The whole time O'Dell was
holding her breath. What if he was looking up Bishop's phone number instead of the building? What if he picked up his phone and called?

She saw Creed give her a sideways glance like he was looking for direction because she had gone off script. She noticed that his right hand gripped the gearshift as if ready to shove it into reverse if necessary. O'Dell could even see Grace impatiently shuffling her front paws. And suddenly she started to inch her hand inside her jacket, fingering her weapon where it was tucked into her shoulder holster.

The guard put his hand out to Creed, surprising both of them.

“The map,” he said when Creed didn't understand. “I'll circle Dr. Bishop's building. That one's easy to find. It's right next door to the aviary.”

Neither of them said a word until Creed parked in a shaded space in the corner of the lot, far away from the only security camera.

“Did that just seem too easy?” Creed asked.

“Maybe a bit reckless,” O'Dell admitted. “But I don't think we have very much time. If and when the dogs catch the first virus carriers, their watchers will be alerting Shaw about what's happening at the airport. And if she gets spooked she'll disappear again. I've been looking for her for over five months. I don't want to lose her.”

O'Dell looked over her shoulder at Grace and said to the dog, “Let's go find her, Grace.”

HARTSFIELD-JACKSON ATLANTA INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT
GEORGIA

W
here's the target?” someone whispered next to Jason, startling him.

It was Charlie Wurth.

Jason was trying to figure out a way to get to Winnie without pushing and shoving. His heart pounded out the seconds. That Wurth was here beside him was not a relief. He wanted to get his dog. That he could no longer see the man in the black cap made Jason's gut twist into a knot.

“He was on the other side of this row of seats. I think Winnie stopped in front of him. You said I shouldn't approach. You said I needed to keep my distance.”

He held up his end of the retractable leash. He clutched the case, holding it tight, when suddenly he felt the tension slack. Then came the dreaded sound of the retractable leash whizzing back through the legs of passengers, snagging temporarily on a luggage strap before it clamored noisily back into the plastic case still clutched in Jason's hand.

Someone had unclipped it from Winnie's collar.

“Son of a bitch,” Jason said.

Wurth did a double take at the case, and then his eyes followed where the cord had come from. Suddenly the calm, cool deputy director started grabbing shoulders and pushing open a path into the crowd. He flashed a badge when a couple of men shoved back at him. They immediately held up their hands and stood back. Jason followed, sick to his stomach that he had put his dog in jeopardy. What the hell had happened?

Wurth continued to wave his badge, and now he was yelling for passengers to move. People started getting out of the way of the crazy black man waving something in the air. Then they parted enough for Jason to see Winnie. She was lying on the floor, between two rows of seats. The man with the black ball cap kneeled beside her with his hands on her neck. Jason rushed him but Wurth held him back.

The man looked up at Wurth and Jason. This close it was easy to see that his eyes were watery and his cheeks hollow. He was drenched in sweat. But now Jason could see that the man wasn't hurting Winnie. He was petting her with both hands, over and over again.

“She's such a good dog,” the man told them. “She reminds me of my Abby.” Then he wiped at his runny nose and said, “I can't do this. I can't get on that plane. I'm just feeling so sick. I just wanna go home to my dog.”

Wurth had his cell phone to his ear even as he said to the man, “Don't worry, buddy. You just stay put. We're going to take care of you. We'll get you back home to your dog.”