Authors: Linda Wells
The drive seemed to take forever, but he finally made it to the Bayside Retreat entrance. Normally he would just key in the security code, and the gate would rise. Instead, he was being questioned by a Maryland State Trooper asking for his identification.
“What the fuck,” he thought as he pulled out his military ID.
“Good evening, sir. What is your business here, Colonel?” asked the state trooper.
“I am here to visit a friend, officer. What’s going on?” asked Max.
He is alarm bells were going off, big time, and he was getting impatient, as well.
“I am not free to say. What is your business here, sir?” the officer repeated.
Max tried to relax and smiled, “My girl, she lives just a few blocks down from here, 62 Sandpiper.”
The officer studied Max, his high-ranking Army uniform, and said, “One moment, Colonel.”
The trooper pulled out his radio and spoke for a few moments. “Yes, ma’am,” was all Max heard.
“You may proceed,” and he raised the gate, knowing what was ahead for this guy.
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M
ax couldn’t get near Suzy’s condo. He parked as close as possible and then ran to the edge of the cordoned off area. He was stopped by a muscular guy, dressed in a dark suit, wearing an earpiece, and obviously carrying.
“What’s going on? My girlfriend lives in this building,” Max said loudly, and was struggling with the big guy, trying to see over the flashing lights and people, many in uniform, some on cell phones. Suzy’s condo was brightly lit, and he could see the open garage door.
“My name is Agent Walker, FBI. What is your name, sir?” asked the big guy.
“Colonel Max Graham.”
“Some ID, please,” requested the agent.
He was inspecting the military ID while Max continued to look at the activity near the building.
“Hold on, Colonel. Let me contact the agents in charge of this investigation.”
Max backed down, hands on his hips, impatient to understand what was happening.
“What’s taking so long?” he thought.
“Sir, Agents Reed and Strickland would like to talk with you. Just follow me,” he requested.
Max followed closely behind Walker, heading toward the condominium.
“Thanks, Walker,” said George.
They introduced themselves to Max. “I’m FBI Special Agent Reed and this is my partner, Agent Strickland.” They shook hands.
Max said, in a commanding voice, “What’s happening here? I would like to see Dr. Chen, Agent Reed.”
She responded, “Let’s go to the police van. It’s a bit more private, and we can talk,” she directed.
Max followed her, stepping into the white unit. Mark remained silent but accompanied them into the van.
George said, “Let’s sit down here at the table.
“There was a small built-in table with bench seats on either side to the right of the door. Max sat on one side, and George and Mark slid into the seat opposite him.
“Colonel Graham, please tell me about your relationship with Dr. Chen,” she asked.
Max was glancing around, noticing others working at computer monitors, but he couldn’t quite stay focused. He felt confused and uncertain of what was going on.
“Look, I will tell you all I know, but I need to see Dr. Chen and know that she is all right. I have been trying to talk to her for most of the day and could only speak with her briefly. I understand about the investigation and the need for security, but she and I are,” and he hesitated, “involved, on a very personal basis. Do you understand?” he asked, intensely. “Tell me what’s going on. Now!”
George touched his arm gently and said, “Colonel Graham, Dr. Chen has been shot by an unknown assailant and is dead.”
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A
nnie had bathed the boys, dressed them in their jammies, and then they curled up on the sofa in the TV room, watching a video. It had been fun having the sandwiches and potato chips although they missed their mom. But Annie was nice, and they loved being with her.
It was around 9:00 p.m. when Mike began the drive to Baltimore. He wanted to get to Maggie as soon as possible. He couldn’t wait any longer. He had called the evening shift nurse, saying he was coming, and asked about Maggie’s status. The nurse, Jeff, said she was holding her own, but her prognosis was uncertain. He told Mike that he would be able to look at Maggie through a glass partition and talk to her through an intercom but that was all. Mike didn’t care. He had to be with his wife.
Dwight, from crew dispatch, had called earlier that evening, totally distraught. But somehow, he managed to get the words out. Terry had died that evening, and Mike had broken down. How could this nightmare be happening?
His eyes were still puffy from crying, but Mike focused on the drive. It had been easy to find the hospital. He parked near the emergency entrance, where one of the clerks directed him to ICU. Maggie was in an isolation unit on the same floor. After thanking the clerk, Mike hurried down the hall.
He got to the unit and was directed to a waiting room, where there were several others sitting quietly, hoping for those few moments when they could see their loved ones. A TV set was on in the corner of the room. The news reporter was talking about the growing fears of a dangerous pandemic.
Finally, after about thirty minutes, Jeff called for Mike and led him to a small private room with a large glass window. Mike listened as Jeff explained which bed Maggie was in. All Mike could see was a large clear canopy around her bed, and tubes and monitors everywhere. But he could see a blurred image of her face, looking as though she was in a deep sleep, her body very still. There was a phone on a table beside the window.
Jeff said, “I’ll go in and place the phone next to Maggie’s ear, and you can talk to her. Dial zero-six and we will be connected. It’ll take me a few minutes to get my mask and hood on.”
Mike nodded. “Okay.” A few minutes later, he saw Jeff enter the unit and go into the canopy. Mike dialed the number.
Jeff picked up and said, “Go ahead.” Then he placed the phone near Maggie’s ear.
Mike began talking to her, very softly, saying, “Maggie, it’s Mike, I love you, sweetheart. Don’t worry. The boys send hugs and kisses. You will be home soon. I am going to spoil you. And the boys will love their new brother or sister, our baby, Maggie.”
He just kept talking to her, telling her everything she needed to hear.
Jeff turned around and spoke into the phone, “Her eyes are open, Mike. Your girl is a fighter.”
Then Jeff hurried off to report to the doctor and get further instructions. Mike had tears running down his face, as he stood, head bowed in quiet prayer.
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L
ater that evening, Mark and George were driving to their Baltimore hotel, talking about the case, needing to decompress from the trying day. They had much work ahead, putting together the various pieces of this still unfolding crisis. The presumed vials of the H5N1 vaccine were at the CDC, and the Edgewood Facility was under heavy guard. Much of the evidence continued to implicate Adams and Chen. Chen’s murder further complicated the investigation. It had been difficult telling Max about Suzy. The man had maintained self-control but was clearly devastated. George realized at that moment that no one is promised tomorrow.
Mark appeared deep in thought and then asked, “How about a late dinner?”
Hesitating, Georgiana looked up from her notes at Mark. He was staring at the road ahead, hands gripping the steering wheel, waiting for her answer.
“I have wanted you to ask me that for a long time,” she said, reaching over and touching his hand.
He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her palm tenderly.
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H
e smiled to himself. How well things were going. The deadly pandemic and the resulting panic had been achieved. Many had died, and more deaths would follow. He delighted in watching the American economy go into free fall, giving him great advantage, knowing his holdings would grab investments at the low and gain huge profits. The American recession would last many years, and what was once a super power would be no longer.
Damn. Too bad Suzy had to be disposed of. She had fit so perfectly into his scheme. She would have been a great sexual toy aside from being ornamental. He enjoyed games so much. But she was bright and had done her job well, and she did get what she wanted. He had managed to arrange with his Chinese “friends” to release her sexy little twin sister. Wasn’t that enough? And he had to protect himself and those who were loyal employees, so to speak. It had been easy to find mercenaries, as well. He chuckled out loud and walked to the large window of his office, overlooking the Thames. There were still some loose ends, but his Organization was well equipped to deal with them at the proper time.
As a respected international industrialist, he could move many pawns around without suspicion. The money took well-planned circuitous routes and never could any links to him be found. His support of the jihadist group was untraceable. They needed him. They got what they wanted, to destroy the filthy, stupid American pigs, and he would continue to amass a fortune from the failing American economy. Greed was the motive, but the chase was the pleasure.
He glanced at his Breitling, realizing he must hurry. He had a luncheon appointment with the Chinese ambassador. He must not be rude to someone who had done him such a great favor. They were meeting at the Chinese embassy, and he looked forward to many of the specialty Chinese dishes, especially the delicious pork and rice, spring rolls, and dumplings. He had epicurean tastes in all things. He was certain there would be some beautiful Chinese women there, eager for his attention. Exotic desserts were always the finishing touch to a gourmet meal, providing the most delicious of all pleasures.
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R
aised in the south, Linda Wells attended the University of South Florida and went on to become a flight attendant for a major airline.
Dead Love
, her debut novel, fits into her favorite genre of mystery thrillers. Wells and her husband live in Columbus, Ohio, and she is currently working on her new novel.