Closure (Jack Randall) (59 page)

Jack paused to let his comment sink in.

“You’ve all been chosen for your expertise in your field, your experience, and your ability to operate on no sleep.” Jack got a courtesy laugh, even though they all knew he wasn’t kidding. “You’ll need all of it in the coming days. I’ve asked a few of you to intro yourselves and cover some key points, so let’s get started. Syd?”

Sydney rose from her seat against the wall where she had been scanning some documents. She walked to the front as Jack retreated to a corner where he could watch her speak and observe those listening.

“Hello, my name is Agent Sydney Lewis and I head the forensics team. I’m here to give you an idea of what type of environment we’ll be going into medically. A brief is being prepared covering all the other basics and will be available for the plane ride. I’m giving you this in person because it’s important. West Africa is one of the most dangerous places on earth for disease. This doesn’t mean you
may
be exposed, it guarantees it. Typhoid, leprosy, yellow fever, blackwater fever, cholera, tuberculosis, amoebic dysentery, tick borne fever, malaria, bilharzia, elephantitis, ancylostomiasis, Marburg, Ebola, and AIDS just scratch the surface of what can be acquired in Tanzania.”

A hand shot up and Sydney waved it down.

“Yes, you will all be inoculated, several times.” She paused to break open a medical kit in front of her on the table. She noted that she had everyone’s undivided attention. She held items up as she lectured.

“Halazone tablets. They counteract all the bugs in the water, most of them anyway. Mefloquine. Anti-malarial tablets. You’ll start them tonight and continue them for two weeks after we return. Don’t forget them. It’s the first thing you’ll get. The rest of these items are antibiotics. We can’t trust the local stuff. Tetenus toxoid injections. You’ll get a booster before we leave also. Snakebite kit. I’ll have anti-venom with me. Remember, of the thirty-three types of snake in east Africa, thirty of them are poisonous.”

“How do we tell them apart?” someone asked.

“With a ratio like that, I suggest you avoid them all,” she answered. “The hospitals over there have limited resources, and we’ll be working in a hostile environment. Be careful when you’re climbing around the embassy. Cuts and broken bones can turn to gangrene or sepsis quickly in that climate. If you end up bleeding and need a transfusion, well, you figure it out. I’m told an air ambulance will be on call, but that takes time. My point is, be careful. You don’t want to get sick or injured over there.” She reached inside her shirt and pulled out a chain with two tags hanging from it. “Dog tags. Everyone will be issued two pair. Wear them at all times. No exceptions. Something happens, they may just save you. Any questions?” She scanned the room. No hands. She turned to see Jack stepping forward.

“Take it to heart, people. The hospital is overwhelmed. If you get sick or injured that’s one less of you on the team, and we need everybody for this one. Our security on this investigation will be run by Agent Greg Whitcomb. Greg comes to us from the Hostage Rescue Team and he will be second in command. What he says goes.” He nodded to Greg who took Sydney’s place in front of the room and proceeded to outline the threats they faced and the procedures they would all follow.

Jack looked from face to face as Greg gave them the bad news. A few frowns, but no one looked like they were having second thoughts.

“A lot of strange faces, Jack,” Sydney whispered from her place next to him.

“Yeah, but we need them.”

“You pick them?” she asked.

“Most. Some were added by the Director.”

“On whose order?”

“Exactly. I didn’t really have a choice. But most of them make sense.”

“And those who don’t?”

“I’ll keep an eye on them,” Jack replied.

They watched Greg give his talk for a few minutes and Jack scanned the new faces in the group. The strangers among them were sitting quietly and taking in the lecture. He reviewed the files he had briefly read on each as he thought about Sydney’s question.

An attractive young woman sat in the front row, actually taking notes. She wore short dark hair that was simply brushed. No highlights or stylish cut. Subtle makeup. She possessed the healthy figure of one who was no stranger to hard physical labor. Intelligent eyes sat behind wire-rimmed glasses. Her name was Heather Sachs, and she was from the Center for Disease Control in Atlanta. Although only twenty-eight, she held dual degrees in Microbiology and Genetics from Duke University. Her attachment to the group was due to her being one of the United States Government liaisons to the disease fighting groups in Tanzania. She coordinated with the CDC, WHO, Red Cross, Doctors without Borders, and all the other groups attempting to fight the diseases plaguing the area. Although a civilian, she had numerous contacts, and some pull with the military, and seemed to be respected by her peers. Several glowing letters were included in the file, and she had spent considerable time in the field, mostly east Africa. The embassy had been one of the hubs of the disease fighting effort, and she was hitching along to salvage what supplies could be saved from the building and adjacent warehouse. Jack was not quite sure as to why she had been included in his group as she offered no real skills pertaining to the investigation. Other than taking the place of someone else, he hadn’t seen any harm in her going either. Attempting to cut her was not worth the fight, so he had simply kept her without question. Jack had watched her during Sydney’s lecture and waited for her to interrupt. But she had simply listened politely and not offered her expert opinion. Jack took her in now as she listened. She caught his gaze and returned it with a nod before returning her eyes and attention back to Greg.

Jack moved his gaze to the back row and found the figure of Dennis Murphy of the Central Intelligence Agency. Tall, mid 40s, red hair, and Irish through and through. He also had an impressive file and Jack had tried to absorb more than the highlights, but had been pressed for time. His job description was that of an analyst. One who took the raw data gathered in the field and figured out what it all meant. He had been at the Africa desk for several years, and although the file claimed he’d had no military experience, Jack didn’t believe it. He had watched the man enter the room and climb the stairs to the top row before selecting his seat. Something an operative did out of habit—his back to the wall and everyone in view. He also had the build of someone who had carried heavy loads at one time. Military people ran a lot. They also had strong backs from long marches with heavy rucksacks. Mr. Murphy had the telltale signs of well developed calves and lower back muscles. Either he had an out-of-proportion workout regimen, or he had spent some time in the trenches. Jack suspected that the file was a phony, or at least a half-truth. Murphy was along to coordinate between the CIA and the investigation team, following up on anything they found and getting it to people who could do something about it. Jack wasn’t wild about his presence, but he understood the need. Nevertheless, he would keep a careful eye on Mr. Murphy.

Jack moved his gaze to a man in the second row, an FBI man by the name of Bradford Williams. An explosives expert, complete with a missing finger. A former US Navy Seal, he had transferred to the FBI after ten years with the teams. Jack was impressed with his record. Combat tours on three continents, some nice letters from the admirals that steered the navy, and one from the King of Saudi Arabia that was heavily blacked out. Somehow he had found time to complete a Masters degree in electrical engineering, and so far had worked with HRT and other departments of the FBI on other bombings ranging from abortion clinics to the Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City. His purpose on the team was self explanatory and Jack was happy to have him.

The others were familiar faces, some of them picked by Sydney from her team, three of Greg’s shooters, a documents analyst, and some communications people. All in all, a good team. Jack would see what they were made of quickly. They were all about to be thrown into the deep end.

Pestilence
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