Pestilence (Jack Randall #2) (16 page)

Kimball thought this over. Could they afford to assume this much? The program had been in operation for many years and this was the closest they had come to being discovered. They had to be careful.

“You’ll be coming back soon?”

“Yes.”

“Come see me when it’s safe to do so. We need to evaluate this threat.”

•      •      •

Jack let himself sink into the soft leather seat of the Gulfstream as they passed over the Mediterranean. Larry summarized what they had found.

“Well, it’s safe to say that he did the bombing. I mean look at what we got here? A map of Dar with the embassy highlighted. This building he has circled has a direct line-of-sight to the impact point. A hand-drawn circuit that matches the wiring we found in the trigger mechanism. We also have the name and address of the driver and all his family members. Something tells me we’ll see some economic improvement in their lives real soon! There’s even some paper here tying him to Kamill Oil. He entered the country on one of their ships. This is the jackpot!”

Smiles were evident on the faces of his team as Jack looked around the cabin. Murphy and Greg were obviously tired from the long and nerve-racking night. Eric flexed his fingers as he had spent the last few hours they were on the ground feeding copies of the documents into the secure fax machine at the embassy. Sydney reviewed the catalog of evidence and double checked that they had not left anything behind. Bradford fingered his copy of the trigger mechanism (he had asked for a personal one) and compared it to the one he had drawn. His face held a look of personal pride as the drawings were virtually identical.

Jack was happy his team had accomplished their goal. He was also personally content as this would help ease the pressure off him due to the outcome of his last assignment. Although it would have been better to capture the target alive, killing a terrorist would not affect his sleep.

He tuned Larry out for a moment and watched Sydney as she read a bloody handwritten message wrapped in plastic. He waited till she looked up and caught her eye. He gave her his questioning look.

She shook her head and Jack read her face. She had no new information on the vials. Of course she hadn’t had much time, so what did he expect? He’d have to wait until they got home.

He listened to Larry as his tone became more joyous with each new finding. He couldn’t tell if he was happy with their success, or just glad to be going home in an air conditioned plane. Maybe it was both. Jack wadded up his fleece jacket and stuck it behind his head. He was soon asleep.

Can oil production satisfy rising demand?
November 24, 2005—USA Today
 

—ELEVEN—

T
he Senator looked up from the file in front of him and saw the room all waiting for him, just as he expected. He leaned back in his chair and removed the reading glasses before carefully folding them and placing them in their case.

“Looks like you had a rather interesting time in Africa, Mr. Randall. I am, however, pleased with the results, as is the President. The intelligence you gathered is being put to good use. I’m afraid I can’t elaborate on that, but let’s just say we’ll be reducing our Tomahawk missile inventory in the near future. I’ll need you to keep that to yourself, of course. The President will announce this from the Oval, I’m sure, as soon as the BDA is available. I understand all the players involved will be getting a nice letter of commendation or something to that effect from their superiors, as well. A job well planned and well executed. Everyone comes home and no banner headlines. Very good.”

“Thank you, sir,” Jack answered.

They all waited again as the senator consulted some notes. He addressed the room without looking up this time.

“Could Mr. Randall and I have the room please? Please stay also, Mr. Deacon.”

Jack shared a look with his boss as the others gathered their papers from the table and filed out past them. The senator watched them go and when the door closed he waved them closer to his end of the table.

“Use your young legs and come down here so this old man doesn’t have to shout.” They moved to oblige him.

“I’m too old to candy coat things, so I’ll just say it. You really pulled yourself back from the edge on this one, Jack. The committee was ready to hang you if you hadn’t. But you probably knew that already.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Smart, smart I like. You may have noticed that we didn’t talk about the drug thing? I’d like you to tell me your version.”

Jack couldn’t help but look at his boss. It was supposed to be between the two of them.

“Don’t blame him. He answers to his boss who answers to me. It’s still a tight circle and I know everyone in it. I think you were right to keep it to yourselves.”

“Sorry, Jack, the director thought it was important enough to brief the senator.”

Jack just nodded a hasty agreement before telling the story of the ambush. He spoke slowly and provided detail when needed. He was careful to separate fact from his own opinions. He also cataloged what evidence they had up to that point.

The senator took it all in with only two interruptions to clarify a point. He now sat back in the chair and crossed his hands over his growing spare tire.

“This Tanzanian major, he’s the only one who heard the man speak before he was killed?”

“Yes, sir, and I believe him. I’d like to point out that he was shot twice in the attack, and performed bravely on our behalf. If you could possibly get someone from State to send a letter to his boss, my team and I would appreciate it.”

“The President is in a letter writing mood. I’m sure it can be arranged. What about these drugs? Were all of them lost?”

“Yes, sir. The charge they used was a big one. What the blast didn’t destroy, the fire did. We really weren’t in a position to try a put it out. There was still some gunfire happening. Luckily it turned out to be one of our guys.”

“Yes, I think my thoughts would have centered on leaving also. Still, good work all around. I’ll have some people look into this drug business and see just what’s going on there.”

“You don’t think the Bureau should investigate it, sir?” Deacon asked.

“I think you have enough on your plate and there are other assets that have more contacts in the area that we can use.” The senator rose to leave and Jack and his boss joined him. “I’ll shoot a memo your way if we find something. I have another meeting, gentlemen, so if you’ll excuse me?”

The senator left the room and was immediately accosted by one of his aides brandishing a cell phone, leaving Jack and Deacon alone in the conference room.

“What do you suppose that was all about?” Jack asked.

“I’m not sure. He sure steered us away quick.”

“A little too quick if you ask me.”

“You
really
don’t have any of the drugs in question?”

Jack caught the tone of the question. He collected his briefing material and moved toward the exit.

“
I
don’t, sir.”

Deacon smiled as he watched the door swing shut behind Jack.

•      •      •

Heather shivered against the air conditioning as she stepped out of the jet way and into the terminal. As tired as she was from her layover in Madrid and the long flight to Atlanta, she still chose to avoid the moving sidewalks crowded with travelers, and instead opted for a leisurely walk through the terminal. She knew her way by heart from her numerous trips and let the passing throngs of travelers flow around her as she made her way through Customs to the baggage check. Her fellow travelers were there waiting and she gave herself a pat on the back for not rushing as they had. She visited the bathroom as she knew they had even longer to wait and was appalled by her appearance in the mirror. The last few days in the African sun and dirt had been hard on her pale skin, as usual, and she now sported a face with a sunburned nose, tan lower half, and a pale forehead from wearing her hat all day. She made an effort to comb her hair into place with her hands but soon gave up. It was glued to her head on one side from sleeping in her airline seat for most of the flight. She wore no makeup as a personal principle, but admitted that she could use some right now.

She dug in her canvas purse for a hairbrush but soon remembered she had lost it. Stolen most likely by a hotel maid, but that was okay. It was not like it was going to help much anyway. She spotted her cell phone in the bag also, still off from the flight, and decided not to turn it on just yet. No doubt her boss was wondering where she was. There would be a long bath and a cold drink before the phone came on, she decided. A couple more hours wouldn’t kill him. She left the bathroom and walked to the baggage claim to see people snatching bags off the rotating belt. She watched hers go by once from the rear of the crowd and waited until an opening presented itself before approaching. She noticed a young man in a suit coat and jeans waiting as she was and they shared a look recognized by veteran travelers. Some people had patience and some didn’t. She watched her bag make its way around toward her and stole another look at the man. He was kinda cute. And of course she looked her worse. She forced herself to look away and grabbed her bag before it passed her again. She shouldered it and spun on her heel, heading for the tram that would take her to the exit where she would catch a bus to the long term parking lot. She hoped her trusty Nissan was still waiting for her. After stepping out of the terminal she stopped on the curb to wait. Glancing up and down the busy terminal, she caught sight of the cute guy, now wearing sunglasses and looking in her direction. He carried a small carry-on and still wore his coat. Kind of odd, she thought, spring in Atlanta was no time to wear a coat if one could help it. Maybe he was an Air Marshall? She shrugged off the thought as her bus arrived. She waved the driver off as he offered to help her with her bags and recited her parking spot zone from memory.

Fifteen minutes later she was in her Nissan Exterra, which still needed a bath from her latest wilderness excursion. After thumbing on her iPod and pulling up her favorite list, she put the SUV in motion and was soon headed home, relaxing for the first time since she’d left Africa. Traffic was light as it was after rush hour and she made good time, arriving home as the sun began to set. She was lucky enough to find a spot right in front of her building and pulled in quickly to claim it. After unloading her bags, she struggled to pull them up the stairs, the treads of her canvas shoes slipping on the tile floor. Once the door was defeated and she had gained entrance she flopped on the couch and savored the feeling of home. The cold drink came to mind so she forced herself up and to the fridge. Its bare interior greeted her with a minimum of options, but at least there was Coke and ice. A bottle of rum was in the cabinet and she soon had item one on her coming home checklist done. She was about to flop on the couch again when she remembered the car. Had she locked it after she unloaded her bag? She walked to the window as she sipped her drink and parted the curtains in order to see it parked on the curb. She thumbed the remote and was rewarded by the lights flashing back at her.

She was about to turn back away from the window when she saw a dark sedan moving down the street. She watched its approach as the driver leaned out the open window, looking up at the apartments on her side.

It was the cute guy from the airport.

•      •      •

John Kimball compared the reading on the gauge to the paperwork in his gloved hand. The production numbers were only slightly below the predicted output of the bioreactor, and although he was pleased by the accuracy of their prediction, he would still push his people to meet the expected number. He bent over to see the output liquid as it flowed into the collection vessel. The liquid settled in the bottom and had the look and consistency of corn syrup.

“Incredible,” he said to himself inside his space suit. In this one small glass jar was enough highly concentrated agent to change the world. For good or for bad was defined by one’s own personal opinion. That decision was for someone else.

He listened closely to the bioreactor. It seemed to be functioning fine, the quietly running pump gave off a gentle hum. Although no larger than a standard-sized refrigerator, it produced enough agent to meet the ordered production without strain. There were two others exactly like it in the room. Only one ran at any given time due to safety and staffing issues. The bioreactors were the best that man had invented so far. No cost had been spared in their acquisition. Theoretically they could be sterilized and used for beer production if and when that time ever came. John shuddered at the thought. He hoped to see the bioreactors shut down permanently one day, but to get to that point would require that the agent be used. The world was not to that point yet.

John made a few notes before showing the production foreman what he had written. It was easier than shouting though the space suit. The man quickly read the instructions and nodded in agreement.

“How long?” John mouthed silently through his face shield.

“Two days,” the man mouthed back, holding up two triple-gloved fingers to be clear.