The Galilee Falls Trilogy (Book 3): Fall of Heroes (35 page)

With the new SIM card downloading, I return to the safe. Please let this work. Her birthday? Nope. Birthday in reverse? No. Death date? No. Fuck. Death day in reverse? The light turns green. Goddamn, I’m good. And my reward is a thick stack of papers and another laptop. Jackpot.

As the second computer downloads, I snap pictures of all the papers with my cell phone. A lot of it’s medical and business crap I don’t take time to comprehend. There are so many pages it takes ten minutes to finish. The second laptop download takes the same amount of time. The monster doesn’t move. I may actually get away clean. All that remains is to bug his room phone, the room itself, put a tracer/wire in his cell, and pat myself on the back. One hour and I have all his secrets. Mata Hari had nothing on me.

I pack up my purloined Intel and gadgets before scribbling a note for my slumbering psychopath. “
Thanks. XOXO Jo
.” I place it on the nightstand and slip the SIM card back in his pocket. Like nothing happened. Not wanting to press my suddenly amazing luck, I tip toe out of the room, gently shutting the door. God willing that’s the last time I’ll ever see that fucker until the trial. “Knight, I’m clear. Meet me in the lobby.”

“Copy.”

When the elevator doors close, I finally let out the breath I’ve been holding the past hour and a half. I love the rare times a plan goes off without a hitch. They are few and too fucking far between. When the elevator door opens, Justin stands in front of me, sighing himself when he sets eyes on me. “Mission accomplished, rich boy.”

We both smile at one another. “Excellent work, Guardian. Never doubted you.”

“Liar,” I say as I start walking to the lobby. “But onto Phase Two, which hopefully requires a lot less saliva.”

“Phase Two?”

“The phase where you drop me off at the hospital to cash in some brownie points before sending this data to our minions to analyze. Top priority. I have the distinct sense things are about to go downhill from here, rich boy. I’m taking advantage of the eye of the shit storm.”

“Always the pessimist, Jo.”

“If you aren’t a pessimist in this world, my friend, then you haven’t been paying attention.”

He chuckles. “Then why fight at all?”

“For those rare moments when I’m wrong.”

*

Thank God the HEPA mask and plastic glasses hide most of my face because I can’t fully contain my horror when I set eyes on my once mighty fiancée. It could be the overhead UV lights or all the tubes and machines attached to him, but though it’s only been a little over half a day since I last saw him, Jem’s deterioration terrifies me. He’s always been thin but now he’s almost emaciated. His skin has a yellowish tint and the dark circles under his eyes and in the hollows of his cheeks are black as coal. Hours. It’s only been
hours
.

“Jem?”

“Joanna?” he croaks before coughing. That wet hack he endures almost brings tears to my eyes. I shut them down. I shut all emotion down and close an iron door on it. He needs me strong. Fierce. Capable. I rush over to the water pitcher beside him and pour. He takes the water which thank God helps. “Th-Thank you.”

I pull up a chair to his bedside. “Are they treating you for that?”

He nods yes. “I’m going for a procedure to aspirate my lungs in an hour. It will drain the fluid and mucous that keeps building up.”

My fear momentarily crashes against the iron. “I’m sorry.”

“I’ll be able to breathe, that’s all that matters.” He reaches for my gloved hand, and we lock our fingers together. God I wish I could touch him. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Danforth and Dr. Westfield took my threat about pulling funding seriously. Cut some red tape for me.”

“Bullied your way in, huh?”

“I’d burn this place down if that’s what it took.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” he says, squeezing my hand again with the strength of a newborn.

“They don’t know that. I’m only a puppy dog around you, my love.” I pause. “Besides, you won’t be in here much longer.”

“What do you mean?”

I wish he could see me smile behind the mask. “We got him.”

“Him?”

“The mastermind. Better, we’re zeroing in on a cure. A Dr. Sharpesh has developed an adenovirus that kills adenoviruses. He just landed in town. He’s on his way to the command center now to kill this fucker.”

“That’s…amazing. Who-Who—”

“Bennett Stone.”

Jem stares at me, bloody eyes zeroing in on my own. “Really?”

“Really. You were right about him. He’s…” I shiver. “He’s gonna pay for what he’s done to you. To us.”

“Just be careful. Don’t do anything crazy.”

“Me? Crazy? Perish the thought,” I quip. I press our hands to the only part of me exposed, my cheekbone. “What about Austen Castle?”

“What about it?” he rasps.

“Where we’ll get married. We didn’t talk about it the first time around, but I know you. You want a big to-do. White gown, flowers, chocolate fountain. After this I think you’ve earned a damn chocolate fountain, no?”

“I do love chocolate,” he whispers.

“Then I think Austen Castle is perfect, no? We had our first semi-date there. Remember? The labyrinth?”

“How could I forget? I fell in love with you in that labyrinth,” he whispers.

“‘No matter how many twists, how many turns, as long as you solider through as long as you don’t give into despair, you’ll always reach your destination.’ You taught me that.”

“I think the Castle is perfect,” he whispers. “I can’t wait to—” he coughs.

And coughs. And coughs until he cannot breathe. Until his face becomes red. He can’t breathe. Shit. I pour more water but now he’s doubled over, hacking out green then red tinged mucous on the floor. Oh, God. The nurses and doctor are stuck in the UV compartment for a minute, a minute where all I can do is pat his back and tell him everything will be all right even though he’s not getting air. For every ten seconds he takes one shallow breath, only to expel that hard won gasp with more agony. Oh, God. Oh, God. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so helpless in my life. When the staff finally hurry into the room, he hasn’t taken a breath in thirty seconds and the blood he’s coughing up spreads like ink spots on the sheets. I back away in horror as the doctor and nurses take over, lowering the gurney while a nurse wheels over a machine. “Ms. Fallon, leave now!” the doctor orders. Jem grips the bed as they stick a tube down his throat and vacuum out his lungs. I have to turn away before the iron inside shatters, and I lose my fucking mind. “Now, Miss Fallon!”

I’m walking away without realizing it. I’m ripping off my mask as the UV lights kill the virus on me so I can breathe after this deed is done. He’ll be fine. They’ll fix him. This is the best hospital in the country. He’ll be fine.
He’ll be fine.
When the airtight door finally opens onto the next room, I rip off all my protective gear and step into the hallway. I have to sit down and put my head between my legs to stave off another panic attack. He was fine hours ago. “He’ll be fine, he’ll be fine,” I keep repeating in time to my jittering leg. I can’t sit for too long. When I’m sure I’m not going to pass out, I begin pacing the hall. He’ll be fine. He will. When I hear the door swish open about five minutes later and the doctors and nurse step out, I run toward them. “Is he okay? Is he—”

“We drained the fluid, but we’re pushing up the surgery.”

“Okay. Good. Great.”

“Ms. Fallon, this surgery is merely a stop-gap. Dr. Ambrose’s lung, kidney, and liver functions are deteriorating at an alarming rate. Dialysis may be required and—”

“Listen, I’m going to assume you know what he is and what his body is normally capable of. Right now there is a team working on an experimental cure, a virus that will attack and destroy the one inside him. We just need
time
. Do you understand, doctor? I have his power of attorney. You have my permission to do anything, and I mean
anything
to keep him alive. And you will do just that or I will make it my life’s mission to have your license to practice revoked. You won’t be able to sell tongue depressors.”

“There’s no need for threats,” the doctor snaps.

“I’m not threatening, I’m
promising
. Now, can I see him?”

“No. He’s getting prepped for transport to surgery. He shouldn’t be talking anyway. You never should have gone in there in the first place. We have rules for a reason. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a patient to attend to.”

The doctor spins around and starts back to the ward. Okay, that was stupid of me. I shouldn’t have lost my temper and threatened him. Now he may never let me in again. Hell, maybe I shouldn’t go in. I made everything worse. What can I do? I have to…I fall back into a chair and use all my willpower to stop the tears. The iron trap’s cracked. Some tears stream out, and I wipe them away. I will not crumble. I will not shatter. So I get up and walk away. I’m no good here. I’ll fall apart again if I stay. I locate a nurse, tell him to call me the moment Jem’s out of surgery, and run out of this wretched hospital as if it were about to explode. Again.

To clear my head and work off the tension, I walk the ten blocks back to the penthouse. A bad idea. Every other person coughs. I cringe each time. From now on Justin isn’t leaving the penthouse again without a HEPA mask on. None of them should. I’m not even sure I should return home in case my clothes or something infect my friend. Hell, a large part of me just wants to run away. Hop on a plane and ride out the apocalypse on a beach alone with a bottle of Jack. I don’t want this responsibility. Because if we fail…I’ll never be able to live with myself. I won’t want to live period.

The walk does bring my tension level down enough I’m no longer trembling, at least from the adrenaline. I am frozen to the core. Justin sits in the living room, phone to his ear when I enter. Hard at work. “…someone’s breaking the encryptions now. When he’s done, I’ll parse sections out. There’s so much data already. You just handle what I sent. We’re looking for a facility west of Galilee and any medical data on the virus itself. That’s the priority. Contact us if you find anything. Bye.” He turns to me. “Hi. How is he?”

“Coughing up blood and in surgery.”

“Fuck.”

I join him on the couch. “Tell me you have good news.”

“The second SIM card and laptop are both encrypted. We have people on it, but it may take a few hours. I’m organizing packets of data for the others to review of what we do have. Good news is Lionheart checked in. The Sharpesh family is settling into the safe house and the doctor has joined the research team at Our Lady. Olympia’s guarding him.”

“Bennett’s gonna hear about that soon. When he wakes.”

“Still asleep. His hotel phone rang a few times and he didn’t answer.”

“Did you gain access to the hotel’s phone system?”

“I did. And I’ve already checked both incoming and outgoing. Two numbers, both unlisted, but one is local. That number’s billing address is the Motoneslly office in New Urbana.”

“So a dead end.”

“Not entirely,” Justin says with a grin. “I did find the cell tower the second call came from.” He pulls up a map of Poplarville, the suburb west of Galilee, with a gray circle covering a ten mile radius. “I’d bet my life our lab is somewhere in that circle.”

We kind of are. “We can’t narrow it down?”

“No. Sorry.”

“No, this is good. We cross-reference this area with the shipping forms and what we got from the unencrypted Stone files.”

“Judging from this map, half the area is residential with strip malls, a quarter warehouses, and a quarter undeveloped.”

“They’d want privacy so residential, even a shutdown strip mall, is out. Cuts it in half.”

“I could run that in an hour. I’ll suit up”

As he rises from the couch, I say, “Wear the HEPA mask. Don’t take any chances.”

“Yes, Aunt Lucy.”

“Bite me, rich boy.”

His chuckle carries on as he walks to the hallway. And I’ll be here with the paperwork. He absolutely has the better job. I barely have time to retrieve the printed photos from my phone from the printer when he returns in gray sweats that cover the majority of his white and black costume. “I’ve linked my comms to the computer. The list of emails is up already and the packets assembled. There’s only a few more to send.”

“I can handle it.”

He picks up the HEPA mask on the coffee table. “No doubt about that. Be back in an hour and a half.”

“Be careful,” I call as he leaves.

I fall back on the couch and sigh. We’ve gone from the whole world to five square miles. Almost worth having that asshole’s tongue down my throat. First, I send out the remainder of the packets to the supers before digging into the data myself. Anything with medical jargon I forward to Dr. Sharpesh. I’m not smart enough to know what’s important. The rest mostly consists of spread sheets. I quit my job to avoid having to stare at these things and here I am being bored to death again. At least now I’m suffering for something more important than a bottom line.

So far he’s spent thirty billion on this project yet recouped half that with Motoneslly and Goliath selling the companies they no longer needed. Blackwater alone netted fifty million. That’ll buy a lot of mercenaries. The prison break mercs probably came from another company bought and sold, Red Reaver Enterprises, an elite mercenary company in England. Sold six months ago. Probably at least sixteen employees short. Motoneslly loved buying and selling biotechs as well. Seven in total. My guess they’d buy up the company for their research, and when they got the needed information, they sold. You build one part here, another somewhere else, soon enough you’ve got yourself an atomic bomb with no one the wiser.

“Guardian, copy,” Justin says over my headset.

“Guardian here.”

“One possible. 17654 Feige Ave. Seeing a lot of security.”

“Stand by.” I plug in the address. “Owned by Carl Slater Holdings. Name’s not familiar. Stand by.” A few minutes later, “Not on the spreadsheets. Slater is a developer in Poplarville. I’m staring at a pic of him winning an award from the Chamber of Commerce. Stone wouldn’t rent.”