Dark Star (15 page)

“I’m not foolish enough to confirm or deny my
alleged involvement in mass murder.”

“Of course.”

“But what is it that you have that might be
of interest to me?”

“Anthrax.”

The Rooster rolled his eyes. “You and every
other mental deficient on the continent. I expected better from
you, Randolph.”

“Of course, but what separates me from them
is that I actually have it.” He picked up his backpack from the
floor raising it to eye level so the Rooster could see it. “Do you
mind?” The other man shook his head. Nate had been searched
thoroughly when the men picked him up at the private landing strip
not far from the house. The Rooster knew he didn’t have any
weapons. He unzipped a small pocket on the inside of the bag and
removed an aluminum container that looked vaguely like a box of
talcum power. Nate carefully unscrewed the cap and slowly shook a
small glass vial into his hand. He held the vial aloft between his
thumb and forefinger so that the Rooster could see its contents.
Inside the vial was a finely milled bone-white powder. When Nate
shook the vial the powder turned into a cloud of dust inside the
tube, completely disappearing before settling back to the
bottom.

The Rooster resumed his seat before holding
out his hand and Nate placed the vial in it.

“I assume you have Cipro?” he asked with a
grin.

“Of course,” the Rooster said, examining the
bottle as though he were a jeweler with a loupe. He shook the
bottle again, watching the ensuing dust cloud with fixed
fascination.

“I’m sure a man of your experience knows
exactly what you’re looking at. However, I wouldn’t advise opening
that bottle even if you do have antibiotics,” Nate said.

“Oh? And why not?”

“The anthrax is laced with smallpox.”

“What?” The Rooster said dropping the vial on
his desk.

“I’m sure you know the anthrax has been
weaponized -- milled down to a fine enough consistency that with
the right equipment you could easily wipe out a sizable portion of
the population of a large city.”

The Rooster nodded, staring at the vial in
horrified fascination. “You mean to tell me you just walk around
with something like this in your backpack?”

“I’m very cautious. Besides, I’ve been
vaccinated. And I don’t fly commercial. Nobody’s likely to find it,
unless I want them to.”

“Where did you get this? It’s only available
in a few places. This looks like some U.S. government product I saw
a long time ago. Lot’s of people claim to have it, but in twenty
years I’ve never seen it.”

“It
is
U.S. government product,
directly from Ft. Doom. And I can get as much of it as you
need.”

“The profit margin from this is immeasurable.
Everybody wants it.”

“That’s why I have it.”

“So why did you bring it to me?”

“It’s my understanding that you have certain
contacts that will make such a transaction easier and more
profitable. I don’t have those type connections.” Nate shrugged.
“So it’s only reasonable to work with you.”

“How do I know it’s what you’ve told me it
is?”

“I think you’ve probably heard enough about
anthrax to know what you’re looking at. As for the smallpox, well
you’ll need an electron microscope to see that. But if I told you
the truth about the anthrax, why would I lie about the smallpox?
It’s not like you won’t be able to find out. It’s the government’s
nightmare scenario, and it’s what they thought the Anthrax Killer
had done, but either he didn’t have the know-how or the skill to
put the two together.”

The Rooster leaned back in his oversized
leather chair staring at Nate with unblinking clear gray eyes. Then
he steepled his hands in a practiced pose. “This is perfect.
They’ll think they simply have anthrax again, and start dosing
people with Cipro. It will be at least a day before they think to
look for smallpox as well.” He clasped his hands together with a
Scrooge-like glee. Then he sobered. “I’ll have to send it to Sao
Paulo to be sure.” Nate nodded. “How do I know you won’t turn on me
again?”

“Why should I? With you I can make millions
of dollars. I’m much too fond of golden eggs to kill my favorite
goose,” Nate said, confident that the Rooster would believe him.
People like him always assumed that everyone thought the same way
they did. He was a monster who wouldn’t hesitate to slaughter
millions for profit, and, Nate suspected, his own pleasure, so he
had no trouble believing Nate was the same.

The Rooster smiled, showing a set of overly
whitened teeth. Everything about the man was just
too
immaculate. Nate wondered if he was subconsciously trying to
compensate for the filth that lay beneath the well-groomed
exterior.

“I like you Nate Randolph. I do believe we
can make lots of money together, but there’s one thing.”

“And what might that be?”

“Your wardrobe is appalling. Do you just put
on whatever you find on the floor? I simply can’t have an associate
who dresses as though he were in the cast of
Les
Miserables
.”

Nate laughed. “Nobody’s had a problem with it
before, but I will try to do better. Now if you don’t mind, is
there someplace I can wash up and maybe take a nap? The trip down
kicked my ass.”

“How remiss of me; it’s almost noon and I
haven’t offered you any refreshment. Of course, there was no point
to it when I’d planned to kill you. I’ve never been a wasteful man,
but now, well, everything is changed. It’s almost lunchtime. I’ll
have Rodrigo escort you to your room. If you’re hungry after you
freshen up come back down for a meal. If not, I’ll see you at
dinner.”

* * * * *

Nate splashed cold water on his face again
and again, then stood staring into the bathroom mirror too caught
up in thought to reach for a towel. How was he going to get out of
this house before the Rooster discovered that there was no anthrax
in that vial? It would take a while, the harmless bacteria was a
close relative of anthrax and was used in government experiments
because it resembled the deadly spores so closely. A skilled
technician looking through a microscope would immediately know the
difference. He’d claimed that there was smallpox as well simply to
buy himself some time, just in case the Rooster had a microscopist
here on site. It would take an electron microscope to check for the
smallpox virus, and no one in his right mind would open that vial
outside a Level 4 lab. Nate was more than a bit annoyed that he’d
had to relinquish his sample, getting his hands on the stuff had
all but taken an act of Congress.

Since they’d closed down Ft. Detrick more
than thirty years ago the government was leery of having even a
hint of biological weapons associated with it. Of course, only a
fool believed that the U.S. had totally washed its hands of the
program. With all the biological weaponry being created around the
world, it wouldn’t make sense to have no means of retaliation.
Meanwhile he was still trapped here. He estimated that it would
take at least a couple of days, even for a man with the Rooster’s
contacts to get a definitive answer, and with any luck he’d be long
gone by then. And getting out wasn’t enough; he had to kill the
bastard, too.

They’d taken all his weapons when they picked
him up at the Rooster’s private landing strip. He was prepared for
that, and as always he concealed his favorite weapons -- knives and
explosives -- so inconspicuously no one suspected just how lethal
he could be. The search had been rather pedestrian and Nate knew he
could’ve hidden even more contraband. Apparently finding good
henchmen wasn’t as easy as it had been in the past. The narco-trade
probably paid better and was considerably less risky. Nate wondered
if the Rooster knew just how vulnerable he, the Rooster, was.
Realizing that he was dripping water all over his shirt, Nate
finally reached for a towel and rubbed his face in a brisk motion.
He returned the towel to its rack and stood staring at the mirror
with unseeing eyes as he tried to formulate a strategy. Having
developed several and tossed them aside, he finally went back to
the simplest and most dangerous one. His mind at ease now that he’d
developed a plan, he lay down on the large bed to take a quick
nap.

In the hour just before dawn, a specter
drifted down the hall with such stealth that it didn’t even disturb
the dust on the floor. Nate, dressed in dark camouflage, his face
painted in mottled tones to blend in with the shadows inside the
house carefully darted down the dimly lit corridor from his
bedroom. The layout of the sprawling rambler was very conducive to
his plans. The Rooster’s bedroom was on the other side of the
house, and there was a back staircase leading down to the kitchen
and then to the basement. He’d reconnoitered the area earlier when
he went down to the kitchen for a snack. The Rooster had
established a very secure perimeter with the latest technology
around his house, but there was no electronic security inside, only
bodyguards. As long as he was careful, and he was always careful,
Nate had the run of the house. Making it to the basement by way of
the backstairs, he used a penlight to assess the structure of the
house. It wouldn’t be his easiest job, but it was certainly well
within his skill set.

Examining the fuse box and the wiring for the
external security, he realized that making a backdoor out of the
house would be difficult, but not impossible. He shook his head
over the arrogance of someone in the Rooster’s position building a
house with a walk out basement. Apparently the man was confident
that his security guards could prevent anyone from escaping.
Clearly he had been reading too much of his own press. As he
studied the wiring for the security system, Nate wished he’d
brought Deringer with him. The man specialized in this type of
thing. In nothing less than the blink of an eye, Deringer could
rewire the whole system and have it playing the “Hallelujah
Chorus.”

Thinking about his friend brought Tonya to
mind and he took a moment to savor the memories of the last few
days they’d had together. It was all too easy to drift away into
memories of her silky skin and seductive smile. He forced himself
to focus on the control panel and with more luck than skill he
managed to dismantle the alarm to the basement door without
triggering the whole system.

Afterwards, he quickly unwound the detonator
cord he’d wrapped around his ankles and removed a box of cigars
from his backpack. He field-stripped the cigars to reveal the long,
cylindrical blasting caps which were essential to his bomb-making
plans. He pocketed the shredded tobacco so as to leave no trace of
his activities in the area. The plastic explosive he’d concealed in
the strap of his backpack was next. Funny how people always
searched his backpack so carefully, but never examined the strap.
Fortunately Semtex was quite pliable and easily hidden. After
laying his materiel out on the basement floor, he quickly assembled
all the bombs he’d need to bring the building down. Using his
carefully disguised tools, he began planting explosives throughout
the basement. Sweat dripped off his forehead as he focused with
intense concentration on undermining the structure of the house. He
had no intention of leaving so much as a timber standing. Nearly an
hour later, he fastened the last wire and looked around the room to
ensure there was no trace of his activities, then slipped back up
the stairs.

* * * * *

“If I were any more bored I’d set my hair on
fire.”

“That’s a rather drastic solution to a
short-term problem,” Deringer said.

Tonya flopped down on the sofa. Nate had only
been gone for a couple of days and she was slowly losing her mind
from anxiety. Not knowing what was happening to him was maddening,
and nothing could distract her from the endless fear. Deringer was
seated in the big recliner Nate usually sat in. He was
reading...Was that one of her books? She always felt a bit proud
when she realized someone was reading something she’d written.

“How are you liking the story?
Smothered
is probably my favorite thus far.”

“Pretty good,” he said.

“What do you think of the plot? Have you
figured out who did it yet?” Nothing irked her more than people
figuring out who did it before the end of the story.

“No, and I never will if you keep
chattering.”

“Sorry. How do you survive here? No phone. No
cable. No internet. I’m about to lose my mind.”

“All those services leave footprints. We’ve
got lots of books and movies.”

She was too restless to read. Focusing was
impossible when all she could think about was the danger Nate was
in. “I know why you don’t have them, but I’m not in the mood for a
movie. I need to know what’s going on. What’s happening to
Nate?”

“You want to know the unknowable.”

“Have you done this type of thing
before?”

Deringer shrugged, a wary look in his silvery
gray eyes.

“Oh come on, Nate already told me what you
guys do,” she said.

He pinched the bridge of his nose as though
suffering from a headache. “Yeah, I’ve done this before.”

“So how does it work?” she persisted.

“Each one is different.”

“Do you ever speak more than five words?” she
asked.

“Not if I can help it, no. There you go, that
was seven whole words,” he said.

“If you don’t tell me what I want to know
I’ll sneak into your room in the middle of the night and cut your
hair off.”

“Damn, that’s cold,” he said with a chuckle.
“And after I brought jelly beans for your evil ass too. Look it’s a
simple plan. Nate’s finally been called to meet the Rooster. He’s
going to get in, then blow him to hell if he can.”

“He’s already told me that. Are they going to
just let him walk in there with weapons?”