Special Forces Rendezvous (12 page)

For one brief second he looked startled, but then he offered another shrug accompanied by a careless chuckle. “I’m not that good of an actor, Doc.”

Yes, you are.

For the first time since they’d met, Julia glimpsed a chink in his laidback armor. It was a facade. A pretense. Sebastian Stone was hiding a whole lot of pain inside that big, powerful body of his.

“Why did you enlist in the army?” she heard herself ask.

He looked surprised by the swift change of subject. “For the same reason you became a doctor—to follow in my dad’s footsteps and make him proud.”

“That’s not the only reason I went into medicine. I also wanted to save lives, to make a difference.”

“So did I.” A faraway note entered his deep voice. “And I wanted to be a hero. Just once, I wanted to feel like I had something worthwhile to offer people.”

An internal alarm dinged in her head. “What made you think you didn’t?”

His expression instantly grew shuttered. “I just never felt very heroic growing up. My dad, he died a hero. Died serving his country. He was a hero in the military community, well-liked, respected. You should have seen the people who showed up for his funeral—he had friends in high places, that’s for sure.”

“Aside from being a hero, what was he like?”

“Strict. Cold at times. Demanded excellence. No tolerance for error. If you didn’t do something right the first time, he got pissed, which was ironic because one of his favorite phrases was ‘practice makes perfect’ yet requiring practice implies that you
won’t
knock a task out of the park the very first try. So then why get mad when he takes me shooting for the first time and I can’t hit the damn target right away?” Sebastian shook his head, mystified. “The man was hard to understand sometimes.”

“Parents usually are.” Julia sighed. “I still don’t get my mother, and I’ve had thirty years to try and figure her out.”

Much to her disappointment, the conversation came to an end when Sebastian’s phone rang. That he put the call on speakerphone spoke volumes about his trust in her, and warmth suffused Julia’s body.

“What’s up, Tate?” Sebastian asked without delay.

“Are you near a TV?”

“Yeah, and I think I know what you’re going to say. We already saw it on CNN. They’re blaming the fire on the rebels, just like we—”

“This isn’t about the fire,” Tate interrupted. “Turn on the television. Any frickin’ channel. Call me back after.”

Julia and Sebastian exchanged baffled looks. An eddy of uneasiness swirled in her belly as Sebastian grabbed the remote and pointed it at the TV. The screen came to life a moment later, and like Tate had said, it didn’t matter which channel they chose—seemed like every regularly scheduled program had been preempted for this late-breaking live coverage.

The aerial shot showed unfamiliar streets littered with dozens of ambulances, police cruisers and fire trucks, but it wasn’t until Julia glimpsed a van bearing the logo of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention that she truly understood what had happened. People in full hazmat suits swarmed the area, while the journalist reporting from a helicopter hypothesized about what was occurring down below.

At the bottom of the screen, a stream of text moved in a horizontal scroll. With wide eyes, Julia read the words as they flashed by, unable to believe what she was reading.

More than seven hundred dead. Outbreak in Dixie, New York. Small town’s entire population discovered dead mere hours ago.

Gaping, she turned to Sebastian. “Oh, my God. Are you seeing this?”

He looked as nauseous as she felt. “I’m seeing it.” Then he changed the channel, seeking out more details.

Dixie was a tiny town in upstate New York with a population of eleven hundred citizens. Seven hundred or so of those citizens were now dead—some had been discovered in their homes, some had suffered seizures and collapses outside or in public, some had managed to get to a hospital before succumbing to their illness. The whole town had been quarantined, and it seemed like every agency known to man had sent agents to Dixie.

“At the moment, we have no idea whether this disease is contagious or if it is airborne,” a male reporter said urgently. “As you can see, protective gear is being utilized, which indicates that whatever killed the citizens of Dixie can potentially spread through the air.” The Asian man suddenly touched his earpiece. “Wait a minute, folks, we’re receiving an update. Thirty-eight more deaths have been reported. And at current count, there are one hundred and sixty-four people presently
un
affected by the illness.”

The shot cut back to the studio, where a pair of concerned-looking anchors sat behind a bright blue desk. “Bill, can you tell us anything more about this disease?”

“We don’t know much else, Marie. Attempts have been made to contact the CDC, as well as the World Health Organization, but they haven’t released any more details.”

Julia’s entire body felt numb. Cold. Winded. More than seven hundred people dead. Just like those lab mice.

“We have to turn ourselves in,” she blurted out.

Sebastian’s head jerked over in shock. “What are you talking about, Doc?”

“They don’t know anything about this virus, Sebastian. But
we
do. We know exactly what it does, exactly how it’s transmitted. We have to contact the CDC, just like Frank said.”

Indecision flickered in his gray eyes. “We need to think about this. We can’t just—”

The blond news anchor on the screen interrupted Sebastian. “There has been a new development!” she announced. “A terrorist group has just taken responsibility for the death toll in Dixie, New York! This is a terrorist attack! I repeat, the unprecedented events we have been reporting on for the last hour is a result of a
terrorist attack.
”

Chapter 11

J
ulia’s mouth fell open. After one speechless moment, she grabbed the remote from Sebastian’s hand and turned up the volume.

“The network just received a video from the United Liberty Fighters, a revolutionary group based in the South American island nation of San Marquez,” the blond reporter continued. “Just minutes ago, this network as well as several others received a video from what is believed to be a militant faction of the ULF. They claim to have splintered from their counterparts and are taking full responsibility for the deaths in Dixie, New York.”

“What the
hell
is going on?” Sebastian burst out, raking a hand through his hair. “How did any member of the freaking ULF get their hands on this virus?”

Julia had no answer for that. She was glued to the screen, growing more and more alarmed by the second.

“The tape is currently being edited by our producers, as it contains content that may not be suitable for all audiences,” the anchor was saying.

Sebastian quickly changed the channel, flipping until he found a network that was speedier with the airing of that tape. A man’s fuming, red face filled the screen, his swarthy skin tone hinting at South American descent. He was ranting and raving, spittle flying into the lens as he spoke so fast that it was hard to keep up. A minute in, the anchors identified him as Raoul Escobar, the unofficial leader of the splinter group. His anti-American spiel lasted for several minutes before he finally got to the heart of the matter.

“We know what you’ve been doing in our country and we do not approve of your unspeakable treatment of our people.” Escobar’s accented voice trembled with fury. “You enjoy killing our people with your disease? We will take that disease and kill
your
people with it.”

Horror smashed into Julia’s chest like a baseball bat.

“Christ,” Sebastian muttered. “They know the virus was engineered in the States.”

“And now they’re using it against us,” she breathed.

Shock, fear and terror vied for her attention, each one coursing through her bloodstream until her entire body felt weak and her head grew foggy. The television continued to blare out bits and pieces of the terrorist tape, while updates buzzed along the bottom of the screen.

“We do not ask for much,” Escobar was saying, bitterness oozing from his tone. “Our fellow soldiers have been attempting to achieve this for many years, but we are not pleased with Luego’s slow-moving efforts. We have decided to speed up the process.”

Julia grew sick to her stomach as she waited for Escobar to go on, but the terrorist leader had decided to pause for dramatic effect. His bushy black mustache twitched as a frown pinched his lips, and those dark furious eyes continued to blaze.

“Your little town of Dixie was a warning shot,” he announced. A despicable smirk lifted his mouth. “Your government wiped out two of our villages. We were generous—we wiped out only
one
of yours. Now it is time to show your gratitude.”

He went quiet again, making Julia want to hit something. “Come on, you psycho, tell us what you want,” she snapped.

Escobar cleared his throat. The quality of the digital tape was surprisingly excellent, showing every hard line in his angular face as he revealed his intentions.

“We have one demand: remove all American influence from our country—social, economic, military,
all influences.
Remove your troops from our capital city of Merido and its surrounding areas, as well as the doctors and aid workers who take it upon themselves to poison our people. Our nation does not want your interference. We do not welcome
any
foreign interference. All foreign-born citizens will be expelled from San Marquez when we come to power. Our nation will be purified, once and for all.”

Julia’s jaw dropped. The whole purification speech sounded a lot like the mentality of Nazi Germany, bringing another rush of horror to her body.

“Holy hell, these people are
nuts,
” she said.

Sebastian’s features hardened. “Not nuts. Just extreme nationalists with unrealistic expectations.”

Unrealistic proved to be prophetic when Escobar fixed a deadly look at the lens and said, “You have one week to remove your presence from our country.”

“One
week?
” Julia exclaimed. “That’s impossible. They can’t possibly hope to remove all traces of America from the economy. Our countries are heavily involved in trade.”

“As a sign of acceptance to this agreement, you have seventy-two hours to remove your military forces from San Marquez,” Escobar finished. “If you do not, we will release the Meridian virus into the water supply of a major U.S. city.”

“Meridian virus?” she echoed. “Isn’t that what the general in Esperanza called it, too?”

“I guess it does have a nice ring to it,” Sebastian said sarcastically. “But whatever they’re calling it, they just informed the CDC that the virus is waterborne.”

On the TV, Escobar was replaced by the open-mouthed, pale face of the sole male news anchor, who attempted to recap everything they’d just seen on the tape. But the man could barely contain the quaver of panic in his voice, and soon after, the screen cut to the live coverage still occurring in Dixie.

When Sebastian’s phone rang again, Julia actually welcomed the distraction. She felt as if she’d just ridden a roller coaster for the past twenty minutes. Her brain felt battered and bruised from all the information that had been fed into it, and she couldn’t control the shaking of her hands. A major U.S. city. These people were willing to kill thousands and thousands of people, millions even, to get their demands met.

“Did you see all that?” Tate’s voice barked out of the phone speaker.

Sebastian muted the TV. “Yep. I guess Luego wasn’t cutting it in the eyes of his followers.” There was scorn in his voice when he said the name of the ULF leader. “And as if one rebel group wasn’t enough, now the ULF has split into two. Rebels and terrorists.”

“My question is, how the hell did Escobar and his group get their hands on the virus?” Tate demanded. “Project Aries was hush-hush.”

“Whoever’s in charge had to have informed someone in the San Marquez administration,” Julia spoke up. “That was a joint task force in Esperanza, which means that at least some people in San Marquez know about the project.”

“Yeah, but I can’t imagine the U.S. giving anyone else the virus,” Sebastian said slowly. “They didn’t recruit any San Marquez scientists to run the tests. They sent Richard Harrison, an American, to oversee the project.”

Tate concurred. “Stone’s right, there’s no way they’re placing a deadly biological agent in the hands of anyone who could use it against them. They may be testing it on foreign soil, but make no mistake, they consider this an American weapon.”

“So then how did Escobar get the virus?” Sebastian repeated.

“Best bet? Someone involved in the project sold out his country.”

Julia’s eyebrows shot up. “You think one of the scientists who worked on Project Aries sold the virus to terrorists?”

“Scientist, military member, politician—it could be anyone who has knowledge of Project Aries. But Eva’s focusing on scientists first. She’s still digging into Harrison’s background and trying to find more details about his lab, which we believe engineered the thing. I’ll keep you posted on what she finds.”

“In the meantime, we need to contact the CDC, or someone in the government,” Julia said firmly.

There was a short silence on the other end of the line. “Seb?” Tate finally said.

“She’s right. We can’t just sit on what we know. A terrorist group has its hands on a biological weapon, Captain. At the moment, we’re probably the only people other than the scientists who created the virus who know a damn thing about it.”

“Frank has two days’ worth of research logs,” Julia said. “He has video of the lab mice’s reaction to the virus, observations, notes—all this needs to go to the CDC. They need to know what they’re dealing with, and the second they have a sample in their hands, they can start working on a potential antidote.”

Tate’s low curse emerged from the speaker. “You’re right. It needs to be done.” A pause. “How’re you going to do this, Sergeant? We still have that list of army names we came up with, the one of officers we might be able to trust.”

Sebastian leaned back in his chair and absently rubbed the stubble coating his jaw. “I don’t know. I’d like to stay away from the usual military channels. But there might be someone at the Department of Defense that I can contact. A friend of my father.” He released a breath. “It would help if I knew what our status is in the military community—are we considered deserters? Are they saying we’re dead?”

“No clue. Eva can’t access our files. They’re beyond classified. Look, I trust your gut, so whoever you decide to take this to, I’ll back you on it.”

After they hung up with Tate, Sebastian rose from his chair, walked over to Julia and helped her to her feet. “C’mere,” he said gruffly.

The next thing she knew, she was enveloped in his strong embrace. His arms came around her waist, sliding up the bumps of her spine and stroking the center of her back.

“What’s this?” she murmured as she buried her face in the crook of his neck. She breathed in the woodsy scent of him, wondering why he always managed to smell so great.

“You were paler than snow,” he answered. “You looked scared, and I figured you might need a hug.”

Despite the fact that she was still reeling with shock, she laughed softly and looped her arms around his broad shoulders. “I don’t think a hug is going to erase this panicky feeling, but it does help.”

“Good.” He brushed his lips over hers, just a soft, reassuring kiss before he released her and plopped down on the bed.

She sat next to him and reached for his hand. “So who’s this man you think we can trust?”

“Brent Davidson. Last time I spoke to him, he was working in the deputy secretary’s office as some sort of liaison. He’s pretty high up on the DoD ladder.”

“Wow. Your father really did have friends in high places. Were he and Davidson close?”

Sebastian nodded, carelessly rubbing the center of her palm. The calluses on the pads of his fingers tickled her flesh. “They were very close. Brent and his wife would come over for dinner once a month, and he and my dad went on yearly hunting trips.”

“Did you and your mother keep in touch with him after your dad died?”

“We did. Even kept up the monthly dinners. But Mom died about five years after Dad, and once I enlisted, I didn’t see as much of Brent anymore. We had lunch whenever I was in town, and I know he kept tabs on me when I was in the army. If there’s anyone I’d trust in the government, it’s him.”

“Then we go to him,” Julia said simply.

She scooted closer and rested her head on his shoulder. Without hesitation, he slung his arm around her and brought her closer. They sat there in silence for several minutes, while the news reports ran over and over again in Julia’s head. One thousand people dead. More deaths to come if the terrorists’ demands weren’t met.

The memory of those body bags in Esperanza crossed her mind, making her shiver. What if the virus really
was
released in a major city? How many body bags would be required this time?

“It’s a nine- or ten-hour drive to Virginia.” Sebastian’s voice interrupted her grisly thoughts. “If we leave now, we’ll get there around ten tonight. I’ll contact Brent once we’re there.”

“Shouldn’t we contact him before we commit to a nine-hour drive?” she pointed out. “What if he’s on vacation or something?”

Sebastian responded with a firm shake of the head. “I don’t want to give him any time to put together a team or—”

“A team?”

“To apprehend us. We don’t know how my former commander explained away our absence. When three black ops soldiers go AWOL, there’s bound to be some fallout. If Commander Hahn declared us traitors, Brent won’t be very happy to see me.” Sebastian shrugged. “If he’s on vacation, we pick someone else at the DoD we might be able to trust.”

“Makes sense.”

Hopping to his feet, he took a purposeful step toward the duffel bag across the room. “Gather your gear, Doc. It’s time to hit the road.”

* * *

As they neared the seven-hour mark of their drive, it occurred to Sebastian that this was the most time he’d spent with one woman in years. The realization was so startling that he took his eyes off the windshield to swivel his head at Julia, who was eating a bag of potato chips in the passenger seat.

“What?” she said when she caught him staring. “Do I have crumbs all over my face or something?”

“Nope. I’m just glad to see your appetite has returned,” he said lightly.

Shifting his gaze back to the road, he tried not to dwell on the confusing emotions fluttering through him, but it was impossible not to. He really was happy that her appetite had returned. And he was happy that her cheeks had regained their rosy color again. Happy that the fear and worry had left her eyes.

Above all, he was happy that she was sitting here beside him. He wouldn’t have wanted to be in this car with anyone else, and that startled him more than anything.

He liked Julia Davenport. He liked her a helluva lot, and even more, he wanted to know everything about her. What she did in her spare time, her favorite food, what kind of music she preferred. He wanted to hear about her travels and the patients she’d treated over the years and the places she still wanted to visit.

And not only did he like her, but he
worried
about her. He consistently found himself wanting to make sure she was okay. That she was well-fed. That she had enough to drink. That she wasn’t too tired.

What the hell was up with that? He wasn’t that guy anymore, the one who worried about the people in his life, the one who tried to protect the people he loved. Nowadays, he didn’t love
anyone.
It was the only way to ensure nobody else got hurt.

“You’re being scarily quiet.” Julia’s voice held a note of intrigue. “What’s on your mind, Stone?”