Risking the World (40 page)

They were interrupted by news that several soldiers had died and she was needed at a family briefing.  Thank God Amy was not among them . . . and color returned to Roscoe's face.  She left him absorbed in his analysis, and went to the briefing room.  If they didn't decipher all of their enemy's riddle soon, this would be the first of many ghastly updates she'd be forced to give, including one where she'd have to face Roscoe about Amy.

***

David came upon Bobby surrounded by equipment, with a plug in his ear and a crowd of officers pressing for his attention.  He muscled them aside and joined the front line with his friend, ready to work this mission as a team.

"Happy to see ya, pal, but ya could' a showed some manners with the CSI folks."

"Right, I might have, but there is something I must do first."

"Yeah, what?"

He yanked Bobby from his seat and bear-hugged him.

"Okay, okay, pal."  A bit nonplussed, Bobby slid free.  "I'm glad you're alive, too, but enough of this touchy-feely stuff.  I've got news.  Two dead guys in a blown up van."

"You've identified the bodies?"

"Still scraping up bits for DNA testing, but we've traced the VIN number and the van belonged to a painting company that just touched up the barracks."

"Might these two have planted Tivaz TB and then blown themselves up?  A perfect way to get rid of the evidence and keep us from questioning them."

"Maybe, maybe not," Bobby shrugged.  "There could' a been more than two, and the others left us with the van and the bodies while they hightailed it outta here.  We got no way of knowing if we're at the end of this . . . and we're out of leads."

Thanks to him.  If he'd learned more from Varat before butchering him they might be better positioned to stop the hawks in Bobby's government, who were ready to launch retaliation on Iran for an attack on U.S. soil.  And if he'd insisted on being present for Messina's interrogation the scientist might be alive to provide Claire with the knowledge she needed to defeat Tivaz TB.  "We must keep at it and hope things do not get worse."

"Sorry, pal.  It gets worse."  Bobby passed him a picture of a man about thirty, fit, with Pakistani features.  "This here's my jogger.  Spotted him tailing me at the Haybrooke, put out the word, and we picked him up in Mayfair an hour ago."

"He's involved with Varat?"

"They know him at that couscous joint of yours.  Looks like we got Varat's London connection."

"Then this is good news, Bobby.  Very good."

Although they stood facing one another, Bobby backed away slightly.  "There's a part of it that you're not gonna like, but ya told me to level with you.  So here goes.  I went behind your back again."

"Sorry?"

"Yep, had a private chat with James after the vaccine plant exploded.  Said I didn't trust Varat to stop at killing Claire, and had him put a detail outside Lizzie's apartment even though I knew you didn't want that.  But that's how we nabbed my jogger."

David closed the gap between himself and Bobby, getting 'in his face' as the Americans called it.

Bobby held his ground.  "Go ahead, deck me if ya gotta.  Won't be the first time."

But it would be the last.  He recaptured his friend in another bear hug.  "You did the right thing.  Thank you Bobby."  They had a long slog ahead of them but they were on the same side, no recriminations ever again, and David wanted Bobby to know it.

***

Despite an aching head and parched throat, Claire answered every question the relatives asked in language as devoid of scientific jargon as she could make it.  A quick study, Dr. Sawyer assumed more and more of the load as the briefing progressed.  And when the questions became repetitious he volunteered to stay behind and reiterate her answers while she went back to the lab.

Roscoe greeted her with a thumbs-up.  "This Tivaz TB is identical to what we saw in Paris."

She was surprised and a little confused.  "Then why isn't our bactericidal nanomolecule working better?"

"Here, take a look."  On screen he highlighted a series of smaller structures.  "Messina coated his Bucky-balls so they'd bind to lung tissue.  My guess is our bactericidal nanomolecule is working, but with heavy duty lung involvement we need to boost the dose."

With nanomolecule material they both knew they didn't have. And even if they could persuade London to release more, it would arrive too late.  "Roscoe, we've already doled out everything we've got."

"Good thing I held some back."

"What?"

"Just in case somebody needed extra.  Got it in my suitcase."

Damn it.  He should've told her.  "How much?"

"I'll give it to Amy until she responds, and afterwards –"

"I can't let you do that."

"If it wasn't for me, there wouldn't be any nanomolecule at all."

Now it was his idea, not hers, but that wasn't the point. She couldn't let this happen.

"You can't stop me, Claire."

"You're right.  I can't.  But Amy can."  She laid her hands on his shoulders and compelled him to meet her eyes by force of will.  "You heard her.  She wants you to save everyone."

"She's my sister, Claire," he protested.

"All the more reason to do what she wants."

"But if she dies –"

"There's a good chance she'll live.  Amy was one of the last to become symptomatic, so Tivaz TB isn't entrenched yet, and she's getting treatment to boost her immune response."

"But there's no guarantee she'll live without my extra stuff."

"And there's no guarantee she won't hate you if you give her preferential treatment and she lives but the others die."

"You can't really believe that."

"I believe we have to accept Amy's choice.  And have faith in the bactericidal nanomolecule we've created."  They had no other option.  "C'mon, let's get your suitcase.  We're gonna rip the guts out of Tivaz TB."

She watched the monitors with Roscoe as his entire extra stash was divided into equal doses, and said a quick prayer while the soldiers were injected.  If Amy died because she didn't get the lion's share, how could she face Roscoe?  The attending physicians moved quickly from bed to bed, in spite of their encumbering suits, and when they came to Amy she sat up to salute Roscoe.

At that, her brother assumed a parody of a fencing position and shouted, "Omar Messina, can you hear me at the gates of Hell?  I take your challenge. 
En garde!
"

"Roscoe, the fight's just begun."  He had a long wait before he knew if the dose Amy received was sufficient.  "Settle down."

"No way, Claire.  The battle's on, and you gotta have confidence."

She was glad to see the old Roscoe but couldn't help keeping her fingers crossed.

The hourly lab tests eventually began to show the tide turning for some of the soldiers.  Amy was holding her own, but Claire would feel a lot better if they had more of the bactericidal nanomolecule to give out.  The speed with which Tivaz TB overwhelmed the body was still a fresh wound and she thought about Leila, Sandra, and the innocent kids in Paris.  To give into cautious optimism rattled her.  So when David arrived and shook her hand to compliment her she winced, even as she warmed to his touch.  Maybe she was just too exhausted to put her faith in positive lab results.

"Congratulations on decoding Messina's new trick.  You and Roscoe have my sincere respect and admiration."

"Our success means my sister will live."

"Let's not jump the gun, Roscoe," she warned.

"Claire should get a Nobel Prize," Roscoe said.

"No doubt prizes will come to both of you," David encouraged.

She wanted the soldiers to live, not prizes.

"Maybe so, but you've already won the real prize, Ruskin.  Claire's heart."

If only she felt as definite about her feelings as Roscoe imagined.  "The real prize would be getting more bactericidal material for these soldiers."

"But you are," David said.

"Huh?"

"Did they not inform you?  On information gained from a suspect apprehended in London, we're reasonably certain no other bases will be attacked and Dr. Strong was able to ship an exceptionally large amount of material some hours ago.  London production apparently exceeded expectations, something about Roscoe's assembly idea and doubling time."

Roscoe hugged her and howled, "I have a good feeling, O fearless leader."

Chapter 51

Claire tore open the envelope, extracted the folded letter, and placed it on her desk.  Her hands were too cold and shaky to flatten it, and she rubbed them together for warmth and courage.  A challenging science career was her dream and she'd pinned her hopes on the news contained in this letter, but if success was hers, with it came personal decisions.  She took one last deep breath, smoothed out and read the single sheet of paper that would clarify her future.

A few minutes later Roscoe appeared magically at her office door with two cups of coffee, as he'd done so often during their battle against Tivaz TB. "Hey, Claire." 

"All packed?" she asked.

"I am, and off at the crack of dawn tomorrow morning," he replied.  "Christmas in Chicago, with the whole family."

"Amy's well enough to travel?"

"Yes, she'll be there."

"Great.  Tell her I said 'hi' and enjoy yourself.  You deserve it.  As for me, take a look at this."  She waved the letter she'd read so short a time ago.

"You got it, didn't you?"

"Yes.  You're looking at the new director of Sandra's lab, and the project grant has been doubled."

"Fantastic.  I know that's what you wanted, even though you had your pick of offers."

"Sandra and Francine were doing important work here, and I've learned so much about vaccines from Tivaz TB.  I want to take their lung cancer vaccine over the finish line."

"And don't forget that your government boyfriend lives in London."

She smiled at him.  "True, but it doesn't mean you and I aren't great together too.  Roscoe, I'm sorry things didn't work out for us personally."

"So am I, Claire.  Guess it wasn't meant to be." He cleared his throat.  "Anyway, Ruskin's a good guy and loves the heck out of you.  He'll take care of you."

He would if she could trust him enough to let him.  Time would tell.

"And if he doesn't treat you right," Roscoe made like Frankenstein and twisted his hands in monster guise, "have I got a bug to sic on him."

One thing you could say for Roscoe, he kept things interesting.

"Remember, I'll always be there for you.  Your bench rat, loyal friend, and whatever else you need from me, Claire.  I mean that."

"I know just where to find you, Mr. Lab Director."

"Going to be lonely at the top."

"You'll do fine, and if you ever want to talk something through, I'm only a phone call away."

"You'll visit me in Boston when you come to see your Aunt Carrie?"

"Of course."

"Anyway, we'll be together when we get that big prize for our amazing Tivaz TB cocktail.  How do you think they'll list our names? Alphabetical?  Ashe and Smartz.  Or, Smartz and Ashe?"

"Smartz and Ashe sounds too much like smart ass."

He grinned.  "If the shoe fits, wear it."

"We have to win the prize first."

She felt David's presence before she saw him in the doorway.  He smiled at them, and as the men shook hands she told him, "Roscoe's going back to the States tomorrow morning."

"Claire's going to miss you," he said.

The remark showed he did understand her, and reconfirmed she had to give it a go with him.  They were soul mates as much as she and Roscoe were teammates.

"She's going to have her hands full here," Roscoe said.

David looked at her and she held up the letter again, beaming without reservation in the presence of the two men she cared most about in the world.

"Wonderful news, darling.  Wonderful."

"She's a great team leader.  She'll run this lab like a pro.  She's the best."

"She is."  He came over and shook her hand.  "Congratulations, Dr. Ashe."

"Go ahead and kiss her, you fool."  Roscoe waved goodbye.  "I'm out of here, boys and girls."

And yet she knew he'd always be in her life after the intensity of these last few weeks, as would David, who kissed her thoroughly once Roscoe cleared the door.

"Are new lab directors allowed to take a few hours off?" he asked.

"What did you have in mind?"

He nuzzled her ear.  "Unfortunately, not what you think.  Can you come to the club for my final match in the racquets tournament?"

"You're playing?"

"I am.  Currently the score is one-all.  I forfeited the last match, but turns out my competitor did as well.  Thus we meet in a rematch.  Come join me?"

"David, you're still recuperating from your wounds and on antibiotics."

"Right.  So I trust you cheering me on will make the difference."

"But I have to pick up the soup tureen today before the shop closes."

He winked.  "I collected it earlier and had Jim deliver it to Thorn Hall.  I did not wish Mother to stress over a damn soup tureen."

"It's not a damn soup tureen."

"Right.  It is a damn fine soup tureen and my hope is that one day, if you're willing to take a risk on me, it will be yours.  And you, my love, deserve a flawless set."

-The End-

About the Author

Dorian Paul can be found relishing New England beach walks in all kinds of weather . . . and in favorite cities like New York, London, and Baden-Baden.  Of course, that's only when a new story isn't budding in the brain.  But fiction writing isn't a singular zone of interest!  Science is a life-long career and passion with entrepreneurial endeavors in the small business realm peopled by smart and committed like-minded souls.  Fortunately, such services have always been in demand by biotech and pharmaceutical companies, and anyone else equally absorbed in communicating the brave new world of science and technology to others.  Hope
Risking the World
opened up a bit of that for you.  For more information go to
www.dorianpaul.com.