Authors: Lance Horton
Shadow Dragon (25 page)
Maryland
Nathaniel Brockemeyer marched down the long mahogany and marble corridor with the steady stride and stone facade of a soldier on parade. Only the slight limp and lack of a uniform gave away the fact that he wasn’t. He opened the thick oak doors into the plush reception area and slowed just enough for Linda to inform him that the general had no visitors and was expecting him.
There was a sucking sound as the doors to the general’s office swung inward, breaking the soundproof seal on the room. The general didn’t look up from the stack of papers neatly arranged before him until Nathan had come to full attention before the desk. Neither of the men wore uniforms anymore, which might have made the formality of their behavior seem unnecessary, perhaps even pathetic to some. But to Nathan, it was a sign of mutual respect they shared for each other, even if their country had decided not to show them any of its own.
Both of them had been released from duty after the War in Iraq, the general because of his age and Nathan because he was seen as damaged goods. He had blown out his knee jumping from a rooftop in Bagdad, and it had never fully recovered. Still worse, there had been allegations of inappropriate behavior involving female prisoners in Iraq. The army had taken the easy way out, using his injury as an excuse to discharge him without having to prove anything regarding the sexual misconduct. The general had not had any difficulty finding a respectable position almost immediately, whereas Nathan, saddled with a bum knee and rumors of impropriety, had struggled to survive. In fact, had it not been for the general calling and offering him a job as an industrial security specialist, Nathan knew there was a good chance he might have followed a path of destruction similar to that of other disillusioned soldiers with nowhere else to go.
As it was, Nathan had been saved, and in an ironic twist of fate, he had even been given a chance to serve his country again, albeit in a much more covert role. He had tremendous respect and admiration for General Colquitt, who, in his eyes, had saved his life. So it was no wonder that he was willing to do anything the general asked of him without questioning.
After a few moments, the general took off his reading glasses and looked up. “Any problems with Dr. Bennett this morning?” he asked.
“No, sir,” Nathan replied. “He seemed a little nervous about the deployment from the Hawk, but during the briefing, he seemed excited about their prospects.”
“Good.” The general nodded. “I have another mission for you. I received a call from our informant yesterday. It seems that reporter is beginning to dig in places she shouldn’t. And this morning, I was notified that our intranet was breached overnight. Some very sensitive data was downloaded. The perpetrator, it seems, was quite talented. He did an admirable job of covering his tracks, but fortunately for us, we managed to track him back to the source.”
The general handed him a piece of paper with a name and address.
Nathan looked at the information, carefully memorizing it as he had been trained, and then handed it back to General Colquitt to be shredded and incinerated. Nothing that might link them to the infiltrator was to leave the office.
“A private plane is waiting for you at the airport,” the general said. “Once you have finished there, report back to me through the usual method for additional instructions.”
“Understood,” Nathan replied.
“Very well,” the general said. “You are dismissed.”
Even though it was not necessary, Nathan saluted the general and then turned and marched from the room, silently repeating Charlie Wiesman’s name and address over and over in his head.
Montana
Kyle listened as the sheriff gave them a rundown of the leads that had come in overnight. They had been doing it long enough that it had almost become routine, but today, there was something different about the sheriff. His normally clear, gray eyes now seemed dull and flat, with dark circles beneath them as if he hadn’t slept well. The deep timbre of his voice seemed tempered with uncertainty, as if something had shaken him.
Perhaps their failure to resolve the case was finally taking its toll. It was something Kyle was well acquainted with—the gnawing guilt that slowly ate away at him with every passing day. Kyle could imagine how much worse it must have been for the sheriff. This was his jurisdiction, and it was his job to protect the people within it.
After he watched and listened to him a while longer, Kyle decided that George Greyhawk had taken on the appearance of a man haunted by something. It was an unpleasant realization. Kyle found it disturbing that the seemingly rock-solid sheriff might be starting to crumble. It reminded Kyle of other glimpses he had caught in which the sheriff’s persona had seemed to suddenly shift right in front of him, as if he had become someone else entirely. He had seen it happen outside the Joneses’ cabin when the sheriff said he sensed something wrong with the forest and then again outside of Tucker’s cabin after his disappearance.
Carrie’s comments regarding chemical or biological agents triggering hallucinogenic schizophrenia suddenly came to mind, and while Kyle wanted to dismiss it as ridiculous, a part of him couldn’t help but wonder if that might be the cause for the sheriff’s odd behavior. What if the flurry of murders was being caused by a biological phenomenon that was beginning to affect the entire population of the Flathead Valley like the flu or something, only instead of feeling achy and running a fever, you gradually became delusional to the point of murder?
Kyle’s thoughts on the matter were cut short as the telephone intercom beeped. It was the overnight operator informing them that SAC Geddes was holding.
Lewis punched up the call on the speakerphone. “Morning, JoAnne. You guys come up with anything?”
“Nothing to get your hopes up over,” she replied. Her raspy voice sounded even harsher than usual over the speakerphone. “On first pass, GenTech appears to be clean, at least on the surface. Since they’re involved in the manufacture of vaccines for chemical and bioweapons, they’re subject to intense screening and monitoring procedures for how the stuff is handled. It’s all thoroughly documented. They’ve even hired a retired four-star general to help ensure their compliance with the military’s requirements. But we’re just getting started. There could still be a big ugly hidden in their closet, and if so, we’ll find it.”
“What about the plane crash?” Lewis asked. “Is it possible that there was something hazardous onboard?”
“Don’t know about that yet,” said Geddes. “Apparently, there’s still an ongoing civil suit between GenTech and the families of the victims. Needless to say, GenTech’s officials are all being tight-lipped about it. They referred us to their lawyers. The NTSB’s official report on the incident didn’t tell us anything either. We’ve requested copies of all the NTSB’s investigation records. I’ll forward a copy of everything to you as soon as we receive them. And make sure Ms. Daniels knows she’s not to print a word of this until we clear it first. Tell her we’ll give her first shot at anything we come up with before releasing it to the press.”
Lewis looked at Kyle, who nodded and said, “I’ll call her.”
“I’ve got the lab in DC going back through all the evidence sent to them to see if they can find any traces of foreign agents in the blood samples,” Geddes continued. “The guys in the lab want you to contact the people in charge of Hungry Horse Reservoir to get copies of their water quality analysis for the last twenty-four months to see if something might have contaminated the water supply. Same for the Montana Fish, Wildlife & Parks.
“What about the guy who had the heart attack in the forest?” Lewis asked. “Larry—”
“Henderson,” Kyle finished for him. Even Lewis wasn’t his normally sharp self this morning.
“Yeah, Henderson,” Lewis said. “Have they checked to see if he might have been affected by anything?”
“They’re working on it. There wasn’t anything that came up in his original autopsy,” Geddes replied. “They ran a toxicology, but it came up negative for any of the usual drugs. The lab’s going to run more tests on his samples to see if they find anything that fits with this new information. Anything new on your end?”
“Not yet,” Lewis said.
“All right, keep me posted.”
“Will do.”
Denver
Charlie’s stomach growled. He hadn’t eaten since … he couldn’t remember when exactly, sometime late last night when he had gone to the all-night burger joint a few blocks away. He looked at the clock in the corner of the screen and was glad to see it was after 11:15, which meant he could order take-out.
He pulled open a drawer to his right and shuffled through the collection of colored menus until he decided he was in the mood for Chinese. He had yet to have Chinese during the marathon, and it was less likely to make him sleepy than pizza was. He called in his order for Kung-Pao chicken with fried rice and then offered the driver an extra five-dollar tip on top if he would stop at the 7-Eleven a few blocks away and pick up a couple of Red Bulls on the way.
He was still sitting in front of the computer, copying the data to the second flash drive when the doorbell rang. He jumped up and hurried to the door, anxiously grabbing the sack with the cardboard cartons of food and the Red Bulls from the startled Middle Eastern deliveryman. The Red Bulls were even cold. Awesome! He hated it when they brought the warm ones. Red Bull over ice just wasn’t right.
After paying, he slammed the door and checked on the computer. The hard drive’s led was still blinking as the data was transferred.
Time for a bathroom break
, he thought. Leaving his lunch on the table, he had just starting down the hall when the doorbell rang again.
Must have forgotten the fortune cookies or something
, he thought as he went back to the door. But when he opened the door, it wasn’t the deliveryman. Instead, a large, hulking man with short-cropped, reddish blonde hair was standing there. He held a small silver aerosol can in front of his face. Charlie had just enough time to notice that it looked like a can of mace or pepper spray before the mist hit him in the face. Only it didn’t burn his eyes or nose at all. It just made everything go instantly black.
*
The darkness faded slowly, gradually shifting to a blurry gray before coalescing into the speckled white of the ceiling. He had the bed-spins, as if he had been up all night drinking, but he didn’t remember any of it. Charlie’s head lolled to the right. He looked for the clock beside the bed, but it wasn’t there. Instead, he saw a long, low brown table with his gaming magazines and a couple of oddly shaped white things with neon green in the middle of them. They looked scary but strangely familiar. Then it came to him—
Xbox controllers
. That’s what they were.
On the coffee table
,
but
why is the coffee table in the bedroom
? Then he noticed the entertainment center beyond and realized he wasn’t in his bedroom. He was on the couch. He must have stayed up too long and crashed on the couch.
He tried to sit up to shake the cobwebs from his head, but his body didn’t respond. It was as if all his limbs had turned to jelly. A warm, floating feeling suffused his body, radiating from the inside out, but something wasn’t right. Nothing moved.
The only true discomfort came from his right arm. He looked down, struggling to focus through the kaleidoscopic haze until the three arms slowly merged into one. There was an ugly red spot and small trail of dried blood in the crook of his arm.
There was a noise behind him. He tried to turn his head enough to see into the dining area, and in the process, he wound up falling off the couch. He landed with a
thud
, but he didn’t feel a thing. Except floaty. And warm. He felt warm and floaty.
As he lay with his face against the carpet, he giggled as he realized that this was what the world looked like from a roach’s point of view. He could see just enough to notice a man sitting at the computer.
His
computer. And he was doing something to it. Charlie stopped giggling.
The man ejected a CD from the drive. He must have been loading something onto his computer. Something about it seemed wrong, but his thoughts were all muzzy, as if his head were full of warm molasses, and he couldn’t seem to remember why.
The man picked up the flash drives from the table, dropped them into his pocket, and then walked over to Charlie. Squatting down in front of him, he held up the CD. Incredibly bright, silver-white light reflected into Charlie’s eyes. He squeezed them shut, but the light kept bouncing around inside his head like a disco ball in a spotlight.
A steady tapping on his forehead caused him to open his eyes. Had he passed out? The man rapped the disk against his head a few more times. “Who are you working for?”
Working for? Couldn’t the idiot see he wasn’t working? He was lying on the floor. He giggled at his cleverness and then realized he was drooling onto the carpet. Oh, well, he’d just make a little lake for the roaches. He giggled some more.
“Who are you working for?” the man asked again.
His tongue was thick, and the words came out slurred like after he went to the dentist. “Ithss for Caireee.”
“Who else knows about this?”
“No uhn, jus Caireee.”
The guy held up a slip of pink paper. “Is this where she’s staying?”
Charlie tried to focus. His eyes burned from the sweat seeping into them. With great effort, he managed to make the swirling colors slow enough to make out the FedEx receipt from when he shipped Carrie’s laptop. “Caireee,” he mumbled pleasantly. She was going to be so happy when he told her what he had found. He should call her. But he felt so sloshy, like he was getting seasick. Maybe the man with the silver disc would help him.
But the man didn’t seem interested in helping him at all. He just pulled out his cell phone and began punching in a long string of numbers. Maybe he was calling 911.
“I’m done here,” he said. “Yes, sir, I’m on my way there next.”
The man flipped his phone shut. Without another look in Charlie’s direction, he walked out the front door and closed it behind him. It was then that the sickening realization of what had happened finally dawned on Charlie.
He puked as a massive black wave came crashing over him, washing away the light.
