The Galilee Falls Trilogy (Book 3): Fall of Heroes (29 page)

“Oh. Hello, Captain O’Hara. Glad to have you…on board. How are you all feeling?”

“
We’re
fine. Jem’s losing his ability to fly and obviously his regen capabilities has failed. It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours.”

“We may have a lead though,” Harry adds.

“You were in the billionaire business world a hell of a lot longer than me. Have you ever heard of Biodyne Sciences or The Motoneslly Group?”

“Biodyne, yeah. I used to play golf with their CEO Randall Fujicawa. He wouldn’t take part in this. He’s a money man. No vison for something like this.”

“And The Motoneslly Group?”

“Vaguely familiar. Can’t place it though,” Justin says.

“Says here they bought Biodyne three years ago,” Harry says.

“About the same time Biodyne began the serum,” I point out.

“Sounds promising,” Justin says.

“We also need to get in touch with any doctor who can reverse this adenovirus. That should be our top priority. Anti-viral drugs, gene therapy, vaccines, all of the above.”

“A priority, yes,” Justin says. “A top priority, no. Locating the culprits of this nightmare is priorities one to ten. We need to find them before they release this thing worldwide. We find them, we probably find the information needed to beat this thing.”

“Jem’s going downhill fast. As soon as they realize he’s symptomatic, they’re shipping him off to isolation.”

“Jo, maybe that’s for the best. They can treat him or at least his symptoms,” Justin says. “Ryder went into full organ failure. Dialysis can keep his kidneys going, a respirator his lungs.”

“It’s not going to come to that,” I snap. “He’s going to be
fine
, just like the rest of us.”

“Of course he is,” Harry says.

“I already have calls and emails into seven doctors, the ones at the forefront of research about the uber-gene, about rebuilding the gene.”

“Are our doctors on the list?” Justin asks.

“Yeah. Of course. They are the—”

“Joanna, they’re suspects. You’re asking our suspects for help?” Justin snaps.

When he puts it like that…I somehow maintain my poker face. “I’m not.”

“You do realize you’re tipping our hat? Letting them know we’re onto them? Potentially supplying them with information about our investigation?”

“Chances are they already know,” I point out. “If the people can erase an entire car from government systems, they’re bound to have their tentacles in the Health Department like we do.”

“It’s an unnecessary risk, Jo. We—”

“It is not an unnecessary risk.
We need a cure
.”

“Not if it means jeopardizing the case as a whole,” Justin says. “You’re losing your objectivity and—”

“Fuck you!”

“I know you’re worried about Jem, I am too, but—”

“Of course I’m worried about him! I’m not a fucking mindless automaton like you’ve become, asshole. You forget your soul when you came back from the fucking dead? Do you feel anything anymore?”

“Of course I do!” he roars. “I’m trying not to lose my goddamn mind here!
He’s
not the only one infected, Jo.
You’re
not the only one who has to stand by helpless as someone they love faces a slow, painful death. You do not have a monopoly on abject terror and love. So don’t you dare say I don’t care or I don’t have feelings.
Don’t you fucking dare.
There is
nothing
I won’t do to protect and save you, including kicking your ass when you’re being a moron. And quite frankly I’m getting tired of having to prove myself over and over again. You are going to have to trust me, Joanna. We need all our resources, all of them including you, on finding the people who crafted this virus because not only is it our best chance at finding a cure, but God knows what their next step is, when they plan to implement it. If they haven’t already.” He brushes aside a tear. “So if I can put aside my personal feelings for the greater good, you damn well can too. Because where the hell do you think I learned it from?”

I stare at Justin’s face, his wet eyes, suddenly I feel like the biggest, most selfish asshole in the world. I have to look away, but get no comfort from Harry. His mouth is set straight, trying and failing to hide his disapproval. Fuck. “He’s right,” Harry says.

I know. I know he’s right, I just really,
really
don’t want to accept it. “Fine. So.” I square my shoulders to regain some dignity. “The Motoneslly Group. We’ll let the others continue on the doctor list, but we’ll run down the group.”

“Agreed,” Harry says.

Justin sniffles. “Agreed.” He turns away from me and the camera. “I’ll take their other subsidiaries. See if any have any connections to creating and spreading a virus. Harry, stay on Biodyne. The executives, the doctors past and present.”

“I’ll look into who owns and runs the group,” I say. “Stand-by the computer in case we need to talk.”

“Fine. Good luck.”

Justin ends the chat and I can breathe again.

“You okay?” Harry asks me.

“I’m fine,” I say.

“He—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I snap.

“Tough. That bastard steamrolled through my life too, remember? I’ve watched someone I cared about disintegrate twice because of him. When you felt compelled to take over his vigilante duties, I covered for you to the point I could lose my job. So I’m going to say this and you are damn well going to listen.” He pauses. “I hate what he did to you. I do. He could have handled the entire mess a lot better. But watching him, listening to him just now, there is not a doubt what he did, he did from the farthest reaches of his heart. He didn’t know he would survive that fall but he took the chance regardless. His life, his friends, his work, he gave up everything for you, Jo.
For you
.” He looks away from me. “I know how hard it is to forgive a betrayal. It took…strength I didn’t think I had to forgive you and move on from what you did to me. But I did, and I did for one reason: me. I learned to separate the betrayal from the person. Because I wanted you in my life.

“The one wrong doesn’t wipe away the rest. That man you just spoke to is still the man who talked you off that bridge. Who looked out for you, who protected you, who loved you when no one else did. And he’s still doing it.” Harry looks back at me, eyes cold as icicles. “I forgave you, Jo, and I’ve never regretted it. I’m asking you to do the same. Not for him. Not for me. But for yourself.”

“Why does everyone keep lecturing me?”

“Because for a smart woman…you’re acting like a fool. It’s hard to watch.” He turns back to the terminal. “Plus, I’m going to be a father. Need to get some practice in.”

“You’re gonna be an amazing father, Harry,” I whisper.

“Let’s hope I get a chance to prove you right. Get to work, Fallon.”

With a nod, I turn back to my terminal. The Motoneslly Group. You better be behind this. You better be easy to find. You better have a fucking serum or antivirus ready and waiting. For once, just once, let something be easy. Uncomplicated. Black and white. Let the path be clear in both vision and of obstacle. I need it. I damn well deserve it. Everything else is so damn tangled. One moment I think the path on the left is best only to discover I should have followed my instinct to go right. My pigheadedness could actually allow me the turnaround back this time. I just need strength and time.

I begin with a simple Noogle search since I know fuck all about where else to start. Their web site pops up first. All very generic with words like “excellence,” “synergy,” and “innovation” in every blurb. They’ve been around about fifteen years. Nothing about their board, holdings, or executives. They appear to be just a finance company. Oh, now based in the Cayman Islands. Imagine that. Based out of the one country that refuses to acknowledge all warrants and investigations. The Group has shell corporation written over them. The next few searches provide about as much information. A mention in
Fortune
as part of a list of the rise of investment firms ten years ago, an article about the buying and selling of Arcadia Motors by the group, and the group donating computers to schools in New Urbana, Independence, and Jericho seven years ago. Noogle claims there are only fifty entries in the whole of the internet related to the Group and none of those besides the website are from the past seven years. That’s almost impossible if they’re still conducting business. Unless they hired a hacker to erase all traces. I have heard that’s possible. Costly and complicated but possible. So much for easy.

Okay, there must have been some government oversight when they bought Biodyne. When Goliath purchased Blackwater they—
Blackwater.
Wait. I think…they were working on a genetic something and close to a breakthrough. It was the one division that showed any progress. Maybe…okay, all of ten minutes in and I’m breaking our agreement. Fuck it. I Noogle Blackwater. The website is as generic as Motoneslly’s. Nothing on the specifics of the research or how close they were to completion, but I jot down the name of the lead researcher, Dr. Vikander Sharpesh. I scroll to the other search results, most about the Goliath purchase and society gossip about Bennett and I. I click to the second page and the top result catches my eyes. An article about Goliath shutting down Blackwater dated two weeks ago. Surprising but not shocking. Conglomerates often buy struggling companies for relatively cheap—five hundred million dollars for a biotech is damn cheap—only to break it apart and sell the patents and offices to other companies like junking a car. Pendergast tries not to be so cold-blooded but that’s why I’m only worth seven billion and Bennett’s worth forty-five. I still take a few minutes to write Dr. Sharpesh an email about the gene therapy project. No one ever refuses Captain Moonlight.

Back to work. I access the FDIC and Tax Services databases. Finally. The FDIC have a file on Motoneslly. Offices in New Urbana and Independence. I write down those addresses so the super away team can check them out. Hopefully they’ll get the CEO Peter Miller and CFO Victoria Lancaster to break down and confess everything within five minutes. There are several other names of employees in the reports, and all the companies they’ve bought and sold, in this country at least. There aren’t many companies, only six in fifteen years. Per the current tax records the only other holdings besides Biodyne are Boar’s Head Airline, a small fleet specializing in crop dusters and private planes based out of Jericho purchased two months ago, and something called Health Medical Inc. headquartered in India but with distribution centers all over the country. Justin’s on those. I’ve got Peter Miller and Victoria Lancaster, and the seven other people who received W-2s from Motoneslly. Nine people to run a billion dollar investment fund. No way. I send both Justin and the Federal Health Department emails, asking the latter to investigate both offices.

Miller and Lancaster are mine.

Of course after an hour of searching, I uncover about as much about them as Noogle did on the Group. Peter Miller is a sixty-year-old resident of Independence, born and I assume raised. Victoria has the same address, though she’s a decade younger than him. Their work history begins before I was born. I write down every company they’re linked to, all five, but there’s a gap of ten years from when they worked at Schafer Technology to forming the Group. No job, no taxes paid, then they have billions to start buying and selling companies? On paper they’re model citizens: quietly donating to charities, no arrests, no investigations, not even parking tickets. Probably because I can’t find a car registered to either of them. Even stranger for people with worldwide investments, and being based in the Caymans, neither has a passport. Yeah, these people only exist in data banks. That’s the trouble with modern technology, we trust computers too much. If the computer says it’s true or exists we just accept it and move on. “Motherfucking fuck,” I mutter as I toss my pen down.

“Take it you’re having as much luck as I am,” Harry says.

“We’re chasing ghosts. A mirage. A damn well built mirage I can’t find my way out of. I wasted…” I shut my mouth to stop the litany of bile I want to spew out in frustration. “I’m fucking useless.”

“I think we should take a breather,” Harry suggests as he rises. “We should put up an appearance upstairs anyway. See if there’s any news.”

“I’ll just send the new information to Justin and be right up.”

He squeezes my knotted shoulder as he passes to the ramp. I open the email and quickly type up all I learned, and send it to Justin. My minions can bust down doors and scare the shit out of the seven underlings in the offices. Hopefully
they
exist.

My personal email proves far more interesting. Two from Bennett, both with pleas to call and let him know what’s happening, but none from the Blackwater doctor yet. Bastard. Maybe Bennett can help. Apply some pressure. Technically
he
owns the research now. I pick up the phone and dial. A large part of me hopes he doesn’t answer. No such luck.

“Bennett Stone,” my friend says.

“Hi. It’s Jo.”

“Oh, thank Christ,” he says after breathing a literal sigh of relief. “I’ve been sitting here worried fucking sick all day. Every time my damn phone rang my heart leapt into my throat thinking it was news about you. Ar-Are you okay? How do you feel?”

“Well, the only sickness I have right now is cabin fever. I am infected, but they keep telling us their tests indicate we’re just in for the flu. Those of us without the uber-gene anyway. That’s why I’m calling.”

“Here I was hoping for phone sex,” he quips.

“I’m sure you can find someone in town to scratch that particular itch.”

“But you have the best claws, kitten. I still have the welts to prove it.”

And
this
is why I dreaded talking to him. Because I have to lead him on. Life and death makes a person throw out all their scruples. “Well, with your help maybe I can get out of here and add to your collection.”

“Believe me, gorgeous, I haven’t been idle. Every favor, every string at my fingertips has been plucked and called in.
You
are going to be fine. I can all but guarantee it.”