Protocol 1337 (12 page)

I grab my tray then proceed down the line. I load up on eggs and sausage. I opt for some hash browns then a little fresh fruit. When I get to the end of the line, I see a young lady tending to the beverages. “You know the reason they call it instant coffee?” I ask.

“No, I don’t... Why?” She asks.

“Once you taste it, you know in an instant it's not coffee.” I reply. She bursts into laughter, and I thank her for the coffee. I sit down at the farthest edge of the table and eat my breakfast in peace. It was surprisingly filling but not what I wanted. I need to get busy and it's off to the lab.

The elevator doors open and I proceed towards the lab. I am intercepted by MP's and directed to a holding room. Upon entering the room, I see Cox. I rush over to him to figure out what is going on. “Hey, doc, what's going on here?” I ask.

“Well, from what I understand, there has been a death. Apparently one of the cleaning staff decided to end her own life. She chose a room directly across from the lab and we are not allowed in until the investigation is over.” Cox is interrupted by a MP entering the room.

“Sorry to keep you boys waiting. I am Captain Hayes. We have been processing the scene for a few hours now. You will be allowed back to work soon. The guys are rapping everything up as we speak.” Another MP knocks on the glass window and gives him a nod. He leaves the room promptly. Cox leans back in his chair, resting his head against the wall.

“That’s just great doc! I didn’t sleep at all last night. The garbage I just ate isn’t sitting well with me and now there’s a dead body across the hall.” I say. Cox motions to me to be quiet and instructs me to take a seat next to him. I walk over and sit next to him. I can hear faint talking of the MP's outside the room. I place my ear against the wall to hear the conversation a little better.

“We just finished interviewing the night guard, sir. His story so far checks out. He claims that a little after midnight he went for lunch break while the cleaning lady was working. We got her employment records right here. She is one of Trixie's outreach cases. Name is Rosaline Verdes, known around the base as Rosa for short.” The detective says.

“Why wasn’t Rosa on break as well, detective?” Captain Hayes asks.

“She was known to never take a break, sir. She even ate while she cleaned. The work ethic of the woman is definitely not in question. Everyone we have interviewed so far says the same thing. It's almost as if this job meant more to her than her own life.” The detective replies.

“So what did the guard say happened next?” Captain Hayes asks.

“He claims he heard some strange thumping sounds and went to investigate. He went inside the room and that’s when she attempted to attack him. He fled the room shutting the door behind him. He held the door shut as she repeatedly smashed her head against the reinforced glass. She lost consciousness and he ran to call for back up. Once his partner arrived, they went back to the room. They didn’t see her, went inside to search for her, and found the blood trail. It led them to a closed closet door. His partner immediately called for medical help and the other guard opened the door. She was sitting on the floor in a large pool of blood with a box cutter next to her.” The detective explains.

“Did they mention anything about the message written in blood at her feet?” The captain asks.

“Yes, they both said it was there when they found her. We did a background check on both of them. No associations with known racial hate groups. One of them is married to a black woman so it's my belief that this wasn’t a hate crime. I would say it's a clear case of being at the wrong spot at the wrong time.” The detective says.

“Yeah, unlucky isn’t even the word for it. The message in itself makes me lean towards suicide. What exactly does FINALLY FREE mean? Why would someone write that out in their own blood? Unless, of course, she had something in her past that was haunting her. If it was bad enough, then certainly death would be liberating. How about the rape kit results?” Captain Hayes asks.

“Negative sir. She was fully clothed to start with, and no signs of moving the body. Vaginal swabs showed no signs of semen or blood. Nothing was found under her fingernails as well, sir, not even a broken nail.” The detective says.

“There is no motive, no real evidence, and no signs of foul play. I think we can file this as a simple case of suicide. Let the guards go, and tell those two monkeys they can get back to work. In the meantime, I will debrief the general with the results of our investigation. Seal off the scene, call Stearnfeld, and let him clean up this mess.” Captain Hayes says.

“Are you sure, sir? Stearnfeld is the nation's premiere crime scene clean-up crew. Once they are done, there won't be a chance to come back to gather any evidence. Their motto is once and done, and their work is second to none. We can't come back from that, sir.” The detective asks.

“Do I need to draw it out in crayon, detective? I gave you an order. Call Stearnfeld; end of discussion.” Captain Hayes shouts.

The door opens and the detective steps inside. He explains to us that we are free to go about our usual work. Cox and I waste no time in exiting our prison. We dart across the hall to his lab. Once inside, he slams the door. Cox seems very uneasy and paces about the room.

“Doc, you are making me nervous! Please explain to me what the hell is going on here?” I demand.

“It isn’t what is going on, it's more about what has happened here. This is beyond me, and my gut feeling tells me this is really bad.” Cox explains.

“Are you insane? Some Mexican chic just iced herself in a room next to us. I guess I can cross off Witness a crime scene off my bucket list! So, what's next, doc? We going to kidnap some hookers, murder them, and dump the bodies in a creek? You know, since it's so boring around here and all.” I scream.

“I think it is worse than that, Haus. I might have been a little sloppy cleaning up in here last night. There is a slight chance that some stray droplets of blood might have been on the counter.” Cox exhales slowly.

“What do you mean a slight chance? You're saying you think she is infected with the alien bug!” I yell.

“Keep your voice down, Haus. Look at the behavior of this woman? Seems normal one day then, just like that, she kills herself. You know what is the best practice to stop the spread of germs? Yes! Washing your hands, and when do you usually do it? Right before you sit down to eat a meal. In the case of our migrant friend over there, she easily could have been snacking on something. Then she set it on the counter did some more cleaning. After she is done, picks up the food, and finishes eating.” Cox explains.

“You know, doc, if there is ever a time to not drop the ball, this is one of them. We have to do something about this right now. You have to tell the General you cloned the virus and you think she became the first victim,” I say.

“That’s not possible, Haus. What makes you think the General will understand about me withholding information from him? That would cost me my career, my reputation, everything I ever worked so hard to attain. Besides, we don’t know if she was even infected. You heard the MP, they think she was severely depressed and it was a clear case of suicide.” Cox says sternly.

“Doc, don’t even walk down that road. Who is the security expert here, you or me? I was in Operation Thunderclap, and I can tell you from experience, trying to cover this up is not going to end well. Now is not the time to save your own skin. You want to go down in history and that’s fine with me. Right now, you have a choice... The good news is both of them involve you going down in history. You can make a decision right now that could potentially affect seven billion human beings and the very life they live. Option one: You can try to save your own ass and be known as the man who finally destroyed mankind. Option two: You can tell the general everything and hope to god we can stop this thing right now. If you need any more convincing, there is option three.” I say.

Cox stands silently in front of me. I can see the beads of sweat welling up on his forehead. He is frantically searching his brain for a possible solution.

“What is option three?” Cox asks.

“There isn’t a third... I was hoping you would choose the first two. Since you opted out, we are going with the back-up plan.” I reply.

“What is the back-up plan, Haus?” Cox says.

“I don’t have one, I was hoping that you would have a change of heart and not call my bluff. So, I am officially out of ideas here.” I say.

“I think that we need to learn more about this outreach program that Trixie has. It is our best bet at finding an answer to this mess.” Cox replies.

My stomach turns at the thought of going to see Trixie, but the gravity of the situation keeps me in check. We head out of the lab and soon arrive at her office. I think maybe we should knock, but Cox just bursts into her office. Trixie looks up from her laptop and gives me a seductive smile. “What can I help you with, gentlemen?” She asks.

“Oh, really? I suppose you think there was some foul play involved? Let me tell you something soldier. A woman with her past would have welcomed to leave this world. Whether it was by nature's own course or by her own means, doesn’t matter.” Trixie snaps back.

“It does matter! More than you could ever know.” I reply.

“Excuse me, soldier? I will remind you that you are speaking to your superior officer, and you might want to word things differently next time. My outreach program is designed to help women who never had a chance to start with. I offer women with little or no education an opportunity to be self-sufficient. More often than I would like to admit, they are victims of sexual abuse. More disturbing and even more common place, they are victims of physical abuse. Sure, the jobs I place them in aren’t the highest paying, but they can at least support themselves and find some sense of normalcy. The next time you want to call me out about one of my employees, maybe you should read the file.” Trixie slides a folder across her desk to Haus.

I open the folder and see a clearly well-worn photograph of Rosa. She appears much younger, and it's obvious that the photo was taken using very outdated equipment. Had I not known better, I would have guessed the photo to be taken during the 50's. I flip through the pages of Rosa's file. One of three children, two brothers, and the only girl in the house. Her mother died giving birth to her and stated that her father molested her as early as age six.

Father sells her to a drug cartel at age nine because she couldn’t work for a living like her brothers. At age 11, she was sent to work as a sex slave at a border town brothel. She was assaulted, violently, many times with one event leading to her left ear being cut off. At age 16, she tried to run away but was unsuccessful. In order to prevent any further escape, they forced her to inject heroine. Soon, she became an addict, and as her addiction grew, she no longer wanted to leave.

At age 19, she was sent to deal with a wealthy client, and had earned a reputation of being willing to do anything. Once she arrived, the client was very upset. He had specifically asked for a clean girl and it was obvious by her track marks that she was far from clean. The client saw something in her and arranged to purchase her outright. He took her back to the states and sent her to a fancy rehab. After several failed trips to rehab, her wealthy sponsor threw her into the street.

“A good friend of mine called me one day. He is a social worker in Texas. They found her in the middle of the desert suffering from dehydration and malnutrition. They estimated she hadn’t eaten in two weeks, and, at best, two days without water. She was recovering in the hospital when he called, and he told me she was a perfect candidate for me. Once I heard her story, it made perfect sense to me. I brought her on board and she has been a model worker since. Once we got her on drugs to deal with her mental illness, she turned ship very quickly.” Trixie says.

“That is a very tragic story commander, but I believe her to be infected with a deadly virus. The same virus I was working to clone. She was in the area that she could easily become infected, and I can't help but shake this feeling that her death wasn’t a suicide.” Cox says.

“Are you blind, doctor? She was a severely disturbed woman and suicide was well within her range of normal. Besides, you still haven’t been able to clone the virus yet. So, why would you be so concerned about infection? Unless you are hiding something from me, doctor?” Trixie asks.

“I am not hiding anything, but I still want to get samples of her blood for testing.” Cox demands.

“It's not gonna happen doctor... She hasn’t refilled her prescriptions in over a month, and it's very clear to everyone but you that she committed suicide. I realize that all of this has set you two on edge. Why don’t you take the day off to get your ducks in a row. See you tomorrow boys.” Trixie's tone of voice changes from kind to angry.

“Commander, I need samples of that woman’s blood!” Cox demands.

“GO HOME! I won't say it again, and if I need to emphasize it any further... Consider that a direct order, and get the hell out of my office!” Trixie yells. I grab Cox's arm and force him out the door. Cox is red in the face and beyond angry. I continue to keep a firm grip on his wrist as I march us to the parking lot. We arrive at his parking space and Cox turns on me.

“What was that, captain do good? You preach to me about doing the right thing and then you help the evil bitch by escorting me out of her office! You owe me an explanation Haus, and I want it now!” Cox demands.

“I wasn’t helping her... I was helping you. She is fully convinced that she committed suicide and nothing you were going to say would change her mind. I got you out of there because you were one step away from indicting yourself. If I would have given you thirty more seconds, you would have said that you cloned the virus, and both of us would be screwed.” I explain.