Silent Creed (18 page)

Washington, D.C.

T
hey’re ready for your testimony, Mr. Sadowski.”

Frankie hadn’t gotten any sleep last night. Too many strange sounds outside his hotel room door. That, and his concern that he wasn’t sure he could trust anyone. He regretted bringing Susan with him.

The strobe lights blinded him. If the clerk hadn’t guided him to his seat he might not have been able to find his way. Already he was perspiring and his pulse raced.

Senator Quincy asked him some basic questions. Then he went into a lecture about Project 112 and Project SHAD. He kept saying that he wanted Frankie and the others to understand what these projects were according to the Department of Defense.

“These series of tests were conducted between 1962 and 1974 by the Department of Defense. During these projects, the Department of Defense has admitted a number of weapons containing chemical and biological agents were tested. It is believed that some of these chemical and biological agents included VX nerve gas, Sarin nerve gas, and E. coli.”

The senator was reading from what was obviously an extensive document. Frankie could see him flipping pages.

“The purpose of these tests, according to the Department of Defense, was to identify the United States’ vulnerabilities to attacks with chemical and biological warfare agents. They had hoped to use these tests and their results to develop procedures to respond to such attacks. They sought to find out how chemical and biological agents behaved under different climatic, environmental, and other conditions.

“During a variety of these tests, a chemical or simulant of a chemical was sprayed from military jets. In the case of Project SHAD, the chemical was sprayed over a ship. Sailors were trained how to decontaminate a ship after a test and how to conduct air samplings.

“In some cases the chemicals were sprayed over a particular area and drift tests were conducted. One such test”—Senator Quincy pushed his glasses up before continuing—“was Project SHAD’s Shady Grove. Tests took place at Eglin Air Force Base in Florida outside Pensacola. It’s my understanding that this is one of the tests that you believe you were exposed to, Mr. Sadowski, allegedly without your consent or knowledge of what the test involved. Is that correct, Mr. Sadowski?”

“It wasn’t just without my consent or knowledge of what the test involved. I simply didn’t even know I was part of any test at the time. We were never told.”

“What did you think you were taking air samples for if it wasn’t a test?”

“I never took air samples. But I was stationed at the base when Shady Grove took place.”

“How do you know that if you didn’t even know what Shady Grove was at the time?”

Frankie wiped at his forehead. He had expected this to be tough but he hadn’t expect it to be an interrogation.

“I only know about Shady Grove now, after reading about it.”

The room buzzed as if he’d been caught misspeaking. But it was the truth. Frankie and his friends only learned recently about the tests and what they were called.

“Senator Quincy.” It was Senator Delanor who spoke now. “We know the facts of these tests. None of the dates are in question. We also know Mr. Sadowski’s service record.”

Frankie thought Senator Delanor looked tired. Even the carefully applied makeup couldn’t hide the swelling under her eyes.

She continued, “We gave Dr. Hess plenty of uninterrupted time to speak yesterday. Surely we can afford the same courtesy to Mr. Sadowski. Can we please hear his story? He’s been waiting a long time to share it with us. And I, for one, am very interested in hearing it.”

“Very well,” Senator Quincy said.

Frankie hesitated, but then he told them. He talked about what he remembered of the jet flying overhead. Of the problem he’d had breathing almost immediately. He told them about the reunion and all the ailments, the surgeries, the cancers, and about Gus. And before he finished he decided to tell them about his own cancer.

Haywood County, North Carolina

O
’Dell looked at Creed, but she could tell from the pained look in his eyes that he wouldn’t or couldn’t tell her. She looked at Logan.

“This has nothing to do with you,” Logan told her. “Can we please get to work? Note that I’m using ‘please,’ and I’m not a man who uses that word.”

Logan stomped off, yanking his cell phone from a jacket pocket.

When she looked at Creed he was tightening straps on Bolo’s vest and finishing his preparations. He didn’t glance up when he said, “It’s not mine to tell.”

“Right. It’s classified.” She was getting tired of the secrecy. Ben hadn’t had anything to tell her, either.

“I didn’t say it was classified.” He snapped the leash on and stood. “Why are you here?”

The question surprised her. Maybe even more so because she didn’t have a clear answer.

“I’m beginning to wonder that myself.”

He stared at her, waiting for a better explanation. When he realized he wouldn’t get one, he turned away. The gesture felt like he had slammed a door in her face.

She had talked to Assistant Director Kunze before they left the gymnasium, filling him in on what Dr. Gunther had discovered and what she had said. Then she waited for his response and instructions. In the past her boss had no qualms about sending her into dangerous situations, once even sending her literally into a hurricane. But that morning he had sounded concerned.

She was used to politics coloring his judgment. He tended to be swayed easily by certain administration officials and several senators, Senator Ellie Delanor being one of them. Usually he was willing to protect those in powerful positions, so she was surprised when AD Kunze said, “I don’t like this. Those congressional hearings are going on right now.”

That’s what she was thinking, too, but neither of them would say it out loud over a phone. Someone wanted to control the investigation of these murders. Was Ben a part of that or was he being used, too?

Kunze told her to watch her back. Said he’d ask some questions of his own and let her know what he found out.

In the meantime she wasn’t sure whom she could trust. She told Logan about the gunshot wound that she and Dr. Gunther had discovered last night. Mostly she wanted to watch his response and hopefully learn something from it. He seemed more upset about them breaking into the temporary morgue than he was about the condition of the body.

“Protecting those bodies is my responsibility. You two had no business being there without me.”

“How did you intend for Dr. Gunther to do her job if you didn’t give her access to the victims?”

“She should have waited until someone with authority could be there with her.”

“I was there with her,” O’Dell had told him.

He didn’t say a word, but the look he gave her told her what she and Kunze suspected. Ben had asked her to go down and take a look because they needed someone discreet whom they could trust. But what they really wanted was someone who would keep all of this quiet, at least until the hearings were finished.

Seems the only ones down here she could trust were Ryder Creed and his dogs.

O’Dell noticed that Bolo’s nose was already working as soon as Creed led the big dog off the ledge and onto what looked like an empty riverbed. An empty riverbed that had been cut and carved out by the violent rush of floodwaters. It was still slick with patches of water. Creed was keeping the leash short and tight, letting Bolo lead him while trying to guide the dog around the debris. She imagined the dog would leap and rush if left on his own.

They had been at it for less than twenty minutes when a boom came from uphill. O’Dell felt the vibration under her feet. It sounded like an explosion. She looked for smoke, trying to see beyond the trees. Creed was hurrying her way, yelling something she couldn’t hear. He’d dropped Bolo’s leash and was gesturing for the dog to run.

She turned to find Logan and saw him farther up in the riverbed. His back was to her, phone still pressed to the side of his face.

“Run!” She heard Creed now. She thought he was yelling at Bolo but now he meant her, too. His face twisted in panic. He was slipping on the silt, backtracking. Bolo had fallen and Creed was pulling the big dog up. They were still in the middle of the riverbed.

O’Dell ran toward them even as Creed waved her in the other direction. But she dug her feet into a patch of grass on the ledge, trying to decide the best way to help them. If Creed could carry Bolo to the ledge, she could pull them up over the wet, slick riverbank.

A second boom. Closer.

This time she realized what had happened. It wasn’t an explosion. The barriers uphill had given way. A roar followed, and she could already see the wall of water coming down on them.

A
t first Creed thought it was another slide. He dropped Bolo’s leash and ordered the dog to run. But silt made it impossible. The dog’s legs twisted over each other and he stumbled. Creed stopped, wishing he could scoop the dog up under his arm.

“Settle, boy,” he told him as he lifted all eighty-five pounds into his arms.

Maggie was waiting for them at the ledge even though he had yelled for her to run. He still had five feet to go when the water hit. It knocked Bolo out of his arms and upended Creed. He tried to keep his feet together. Tried to stay on his back as the gushing water swept him up. But not far. The wave slammed him into one of the concrete boulders and Creed grabbed on.

“Bolo!” he yelled, but the thunderous roar filled his ears.

Creed climbed on top of the boulder, finding an edge and grabbing tight. It was like watching rapids rumble by. He searched for Bolo. Panic clawed at him when he saw no sign of the dog. Then he looked for Maggie and couldn’t see her.

A knot of branches punched into him, almost toppling him over the concrete. He kicked and sent it rolling on. Waves splashed over him and more debris threatened to shove him off. When the roar settled down he pulled himself higher, stopping when the pain stabbed in his chest.

“Creed!”

Upstream he finally saw Maggie. She was on her feet and keeping to the ledge. She had something over her shoulder. He wiped the water off his face to see better and his hand came back streaked with blood. He searched over the riverbank downstream.

Still no sign of Bolo and nausea kicked in his gut.

He should have held on. He imagined the dog’s crumpled body battered against one of the concrete rocks and he felt his hands slip. He wanted to let go and join him.

“Creed!”

Maggie was parallel to him now, ten feet away on the bank. So close and yet too far to stretch out and touch him.

She had rope coiled around her shoulder and she was unwinding it. In seconds she had one end tied around a tree trunk.

Creed laid his cheek against the cold rock. His arms ached. The water was slowing but was still too fast for him to stand and hold his balance. He closed his eyes, suddenly sick to his stomach. He’d never lost a dog. Hannah said it would eventually happen and he’d never be ready for it and she was right. His feet had slid into the cold water, weighing him down, allowing the current to pull at him. And still he hugged the concrete and kept his eyes closed.

“Creed! I need you to catch this.”

He wanted her to go away. Leave him. At least for a while.

“I’ll get to you next, Bolo. Just hang on.”

Creed’s eyes flew open. What did she just say? He stretched up on exhausted elbows. Maggie was looking at him, holding the knotted end of the rope, ready to toss it to him. When she saw the question on his face she pointed upstream. He had only looked downstream.

There in the middle of the rushing water was Bolo, standing with all four big paws clinging to the flat top of another concrete boulder.

O
nce he had the rope, Creed tried to make his way through the water. He attempted to stand and twice the water knocked him off his feet. If he hadn’t clung to the rope he would have been riding downstream, his body pummeled against the debris like an arcade pinball.

It seemed to take forever to get to the edge of the water. He could hear Maggie encouraging him in between telling Bolo what a good boy he was and to stay put for just a little bit longer.

Every time Creed heard her say something to the big dog he wanted to smile.

Finally he felt Maggie grabbing the collar of his jacket. She pulled as his feet found traction in the slimy mud of the bank. He rolled onto his side, trying to catch his breath. Trying to tamp down the pain in his chest.

He felt Maggie’s fingers on his face and opened his eyes. She was kneeling beside him, caressing his cheek, her hand palming his chin, her thumb running over his lips.

“I was afraid I lost you,” she said in almost a whisper. And then, as if an alarm went off, she pulled him up to a sitting position. “I need you to help me get Bolo. Do you think you can do that?”

She started to help him get to his feet, but he waved her off. His knees were wobbly. When he stood up straight he winced against the pain in his chest. He waited for it to recede. It didn’t. Maggie’s hand was on his arm again.

“Maybe you can just tell me what to do,” she said.

She gathered up the rope, but Creed was looking at the ground for sturdy branches. He glanced up at Bolo. He could finally see him without any obstructions. The dog noticed and started to wag.

“Just stay, Bolo. Don’t move,” he told him in a calm voice.

The dog tucked his tail again, adjusted his feet, and eased his body down. Creed had trained his disaster dogs to navigate floodwaters and climb atop rubble exactly like the concrete boulder. He knew the dog would be okay. He had no idea how he was going to get him from there to here. Maggie must have sensed his doubt. She was back in front of him.

“I can get him,” she said. “But you need to tell me how to do that.”

“You can’t carry him. He’s eighty-five pounds.”

She glanced back as if reassessing. Her eyes came back to his. “You barely made it out of the water. You won’t be able to carry him, either. It’s going to be harder if I have to pull you both out.”

“Where’s Logan?” He didn’t care before, but now that the man might actually be able to help, he looked for him.

“Knocked his head. He’s out cold. I pulled him under the tent when I went searching for the rope.”

Creed was slow to respond.

“Ryder! You’re gonna need to let me do this.”

He knew she was right. He could barely hear over the banging in his head and in his chest. Still, he didn’t like it.

“Can Bolo swim?”

“He’s a great swimmer, but the water’s too fast.”

“I can tie the rope around my waist. I can hold on to him. Let him dog-paddle while I guide him.”

“The water’s muddy. There’s debris you can’t even see.”

“He’s not going to be able to stand there much longer. You’ve got to let me at least try.”

She grabbed his arm. Waited for his eyes. He could see that what she was about to ask of him was something she knew was precious and rare.

“Ryder, you’re going to need to trust me.”