Authors: Lance Horton
Shadow Dragon (22 page)
The Flathead County Library was located in a two-story limestone building on First Avenue East, five blocks north of downtown. Carrie parked in the lot across the street and paused long enough to gather her satchel and purse before she stepped out into the cold again.
As she climbed the steps and entered the library foyer, a rush of warm, musty air smelling of old books washed over Carrie. It was a familiar scent, one she had become accustomed to during years of research. It was comforting, like returning to one’s house after a long vacation. That was how she felt as soon as she walked in. She was in her element. She was home.
She made her way through the library, enjoying the familiar sights and sounds of the place. She checked the signs, and then headed upstairs to the reference section and a cluster of six computers that offered Internet access.
After she called up the browser, she started her search by accessing NorCorp’s site once again. From there, she followed the link to the medical subsidiaries division of the mega-corporation. She scanned the page for a while, highlighting several menus and other links before finding the one that directed her to the GenTech site. On it, the company’s mission statement was displayed with a collage of diverse employee photographs in the background.
The research-and-development page heralded GenTech’s cutting-edge research into drug and gene therapy for the treatment and cure of a number of diseases, including AIDs, cancer, Parkinson’s, and schizophrenia, as well as the prevention of congenital birth defects. At the bottom of the page was a small blurb heralding their pride at being one of the companies selected by the US government to assist in the manufacture of a national supply of anthrax and smallpox vaccines, which immediately caught Carrie’s attention. Smallpox and anthrax were two of the most highly anticipated agents for use in biological weapons. If the company was working with the government on those, it was possible they might be working with other more dangerous biological agents as well. And if they were involved with biological weapons, then might they be researching countermeasures for chemical weapons or even the development of the weapons themselves?
She frowned, looking at the screen and trying to think if there could realistically be any connection between GenTech and the string of murders that had occurred over the last eighteen months. She took a moment and tried to look at the situation from a more objective viewpoint or, more precisely, from Allan Dilbeck’s point of view. He was always good at telling her when he thought she was on to something and when she “had a big bag of horseshit,” as he was so fond of putting it.
She pulled out her notepad and began brainstorming, jotting down little notes about her thoughts, following them wherever they carried her, and trying to shoot holes in her suppositions about where the story was leading.
First, if there had been any chemical or biological weapons on the plane, wouldn’t they have been required to be logged prior to the flight, and wouldn’t they have been housed in some sort of indestructible containers similar to the flight recorder’s black box? There was no mention of any such material or cargo in the flight manifest, and although she had not talked to Jack Kleister again to confirm it, he hadn’t mentioned any ill effects experienced by any of the search-and-rescue or investigation teams.
But supposing there
was
something on the plane that wasn’t listed, was it possible it had survived the initial crash but had been damaged enough that it finally leaked out over time? Even she had to admit that was a stretch. The investigative team had scoured the crash site and would almost certainly have found any such cargo and removed it. Besides, they were dealing with murders, violent, grisly murders and not death from some chemical or biological agent. She could practically hear Allan’s voice in her head: “horseshit.”
She took a deep breath, leaned back and blew it out in frustration, even though her hair was still firmly pulled back in a ponytail. What could have been on that plane that would have caused people to react in such a violent manner? What would drive people to murder? Make them act insane like they were … Charles Manson or something?
And then something Charlie had said last night sprang to mind: “Can you imagine them being able to cure someone like Charles Manson with just a shot?”
GenTech performed research into schizophrenia. What if, instead of a chemical agent like mustard gas or nerve gas, it was something they had developed through their research into schizophrenia, some sort of hallucinogenic agent that caused people to go on murderous rampages? Hadn’t there been one man from Seattle who hadn’t been killed but had run into the forest and been found frozen to death later? What if he was the one who had killed them, not because of any real motive but because of an imaginary one, a hallucination?
Thinking she might be back on track again, Carrie called up WebMD and did a search for “schizophrenia.” “Schizophrenia,” it said, “is a severe and disabling brain disease … a type of illness that causes severe mental disturbances that disrupt normal thought, speech, and behavior.” The article went on to state that, “The first signs of schizophrenia usually appear as shocking or radical changes in behavior … and it is widely believed that neurotransmitters, brain chemicals that allow communication between brain cells, play a role in causing schizophrenia.”
She printed out the article and then did a search for “chemical weapons.” There were hundreds of sites that contained information on the topic. After she scanned the summaries, she selected several and began reading. She read several that didn’t contain anything of much interest before she came across a site that purported to list all of the known chemical weapons from various countries around the world and their effects. She called up the site and began skimming through the list. As she read, she became appalled at the various horrific methods mankind had come up with to kill one another. There were agents, such as Sarin, Tabun, and Soman, which were powerful nerve gases that caused wildly thrashing, choking deaths. Then there was a section dealing with what were called glycollates, including agents with names like BZ, Agent 15, and Agent 16X. It went on to mention that there was little public knowledge regarding the agents, except for a reference to a statement made to the House of Commons by the British secretary of state regarding the existence of Agent 15 in Iraq’s arsenals prior to the start of the Iraq War. Even less was known regarding the mysterious Agent 16X other than unconfirmed rumors from unnamed sources in the intelligence community that it was an extremely powerful hallucinogenic agent that caused extremely violent and unpredictably aggressive reactions in subjects.
Another article she read was one in which declassified Pentagon reports confirmed that the United States had secretly tested chemical and biological weapons during the 1960s and ’70s. The tests involved releasing deadly nerve agents in Alaska and Hawaii as a part of Project 112, a military program to test chemical and biological weapons and defenses against them. In one incident in the Utah desert, the military was forced to reimburse ranchers and agreed to stop open-air testing of agents after some 6,400 sheep died when nerve gas drifted away from the test range.
Immediately, Carrie thought about the Salt Lick and the missing goats, but then another thought came to her. All the information she had seen indicated that the original flight plan of the plane had been from Baltimore to Seattle. But what if its final destination wasn’t Seattle? What if its final destination had been Alaska or Hawaii? In the article she had just read, the United States admitted to having tested chemical weapons in Alaska and Hawaii in the ’70s, so it was obvious they had a facility there then. And if that was the case then, why not now? So the question now became more shocking: What would happen if a plane carrying something like Agent 16X crashed into the mountains of Montana?
Now that she seemed to have more possible evidence to back up her theory, she desperately wanted to talk to Jack Kleister again, not only to ask about the investigators but also to inquire if the flight plan filed had included a second leg to Alaska or Hawaii. Even though she wasn’t too worried about eavesdroppers, she preferred to do it somewhere private, so she logged off the computer, gathered up her things, and made her way back to her truck.
She started up the Hummer and turned the heater on high to cut through the chill in the cabin. Then she pulled out her cell phone and dialed the number for the NTSB.
The same stern-sounding receptionist as before answered. She must have recognized Carrie’s voice, for when Carrie asked for Jack Kleister, she was put through without having to explain who she was or what she wanted.
She didn’t have as much luck with Mr. Kleister, however. After the line rang several times, his voice mail picked up. Disappointed, she left him a message requesting that he call her back on her cell phone at his earliest convenience.
Even without confirmation from the NTSB, Carrie felt she had at least enough circumstantial evidence to warrant further investigation. And that was exactly what she intended to see happen.
When they arrived at the police station, the sheriff and Deputy Johnson were already there, going over last night’s reports and assigning the most recent leads to the deputies for follow-up.
“Boy,” Clayton said when he saw the box of donuts in Lewis’s hand. “Krispy Kreme
and
store-bought coffee. You feds really know how to do it up right.”
While the deputy helped himself to breakfast, Lewis asked if anything had turned up. The sheriff answered with a disappointed frown and a shake of his head as he handed a stack of paperwork to Lewis.
Marasco arrived after eight only to report there still had been no sightings of Tucker or the couple by the border patrol.
Several hours later, they were still struggling to come up with a plausible explanation for the disappearances when Lydia interrupted them to inform Kyle that Carrie Daniels was there to see him.
Marasco looked up, his eyebrow arched, a smug grin on his face. Kyle frowned back at him. He knew what Marasco was thinking, but he was wrong. Kyle had no idea why she would be back, unless it was to ask for the return of her grandparents’ computer again. She
was
a reporter. She probably intended to check on it every day until she got what she wanted.
With a weary sigh, Kyle rose and went up front to tell her it was out of his control and he had no idea when she might be able to get it back.
When he got there, he found her standing at the counter with a black leather satchel in her hands. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail again, and she still wasn’t wearing any makeup. He noticed the light sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose. But there was something about her that looked different today. Instead of the sad, depressed girl he had seen before, she had a determined look about her. Instead of brief, sideways glances, she looked directly at him. Her dark brown eyes shone with an intensity he hadn’t seen before.
“I have something to show you,” she said, a hint of anxiety in her voice. “I would have just called, but I didn’t think it would make sense unless I showed you. Is there somewhere we can go?”
“Sure,” Kyle said as he pulled open the swinging door at the end of the counter. He led her into the interview room and shut the door behind them. When he turned back around, she already had her satchel open, pulling out pages of computer printouts with notes scribbled on them and all around the margins.
“I know this may sound crazy, but please just hear me out.”
“All right,” Kyle said, curious.
She went on to explain to him that she had decided to do some investigating of her grandparents’ murders on her own and how she had begun by reviewing all of the newspaper articles over the last couple of years that involved murdered or missing people in and around Kalispell. Then she told him about the three men killed in a plane crash.
At first, Kyle had listened out of respect but with no real interest. She hadn’t told him anything they didn’t already know, and he could see no reason to consider the deaths of three men in a plane crash as relevant. But he felt that her staying busy researching was probably serving as a therapeutic release for her, allowing her to gradually come to grips with the loss of her grandparents, and he didn’t want to do anything to dissuade her as long as she didn’t carry it too far.
She showed him the article she had printed out about the disappearance of the goats from the Salt Lick and related to him her reading about the missing newlyweds and how it had triggered a memory of that story. She pulled out a map on which she had marked all of the locations of the murders and spread it out before Kyle. He leaned over and looked at it as she pointed out the proximity of all the locations.
Again, it wasn’t anything they hadn’t already noticed themselves, and she was missing the location of Tucker’s cabin, which also fell within the perimeter of the other sites. But as she continued, he began to listen more intently. What her map included that they hadn’t considered was the teenage boy who had vanished from the Diamond R ranch and the location of the plane crash. She told him that all of the murders and disappearances had occurred within the last eighteen months after the plane crash and that there had not been any other similar deaths in the vicinity for four years prior to that.
Kyle sat there a moment, unsure what to say or do. Could it be that she had actually stumbled across something they had missed? Perhaps it was possible, because none of the projected profiles they had received from Quantico had included anything about the plane crash. But it was also just as likely that she was making things fit into a certain pattern because she so desperately wanted to find one.
“Miss Daniels—”
“The company that owned the plane is NorCorp,” she hurried on, pulling more papers out to show him. “The passenger worked for a subsidiary called GenTech. It’s a pharmaceutical company that does chemical and biological research into hundreds of diseases, including schizophrenia. There’s also information in there regarding their development of vaccines for the government in case of chemical warfare. The question is … what if the plane that crashed—”
“Miss Daniels,” he interrupted.
“Carrie,” she said, looking at him imploringly, as if she sensed that she was about to be dismissed without any further consideration.
“Carrie,” he said gently. “Leave the information with me. I’ll make sure that it’s followed up on.”
She stopped and nodded and then began to gather up the stack of papers. “These are yours to keep,” she said. “I’ve already made copies of everything.” Then she looked at him as she handed him the papers. “Just please don’t let this get swept under the rug. Innocent people are being killed, and we deserve to know why.”
“Trust me. We all want this to be over,” he said. “I promise you this information will be followed up on, even if I have to do it myself.”
Carrie continued to look at him, as if trying to judge whether or not to trust him. Kyle locked eyes with her and held his there, unflinching. Then, as if their gaze had continued for too long, she quickly looked down. After she grabbed her satchel, she paused just long enough to say, “Thank you,” before she hastily left the room.
For several moments afterward, Kyle just sat there, looking at her notes and wondering about what had just happened.
