Smoke Reactivated

by Cherry Laska

  “That sounds like a good way to look at it. Hey, can you hold on a second?”

  “Sure.”

  He came back on the line. “You know, Jess, I’m so happy you shared all this with me. I really like to know what you’re thinking, good and bad. I hope it makes you feel better too.”

  “It does, Joe. Truly.”

  “Director Henley wants me to come to his office. Can I call you later?”

  “Of course. Call me anytime. Luckily, I don’t have to deal with being in the same house as Anderson. He’s back on the road.”

  “Good. I’m glad he’s not around. I want him away from you. Talk to you later.”

  Jessica went back into the waiting room, found a seat, and sent an email to collaborate with Mark. He responded immediately. They divided tasks and agreed to talk later. She continued her research on her iPad. After cross-referencing her list with the chemicals C-FC was producing and all their deadly combinations, she knew there were two awful possibilities. She considered their stability and their half-life and delivery methods. It clicked. “Shit,” Jessica said a little too loudly. This got her nasty looks from the other people in the waiting room. Just then Bridgette came out and misread the fearful look on her mother’s face.

  “What?” she asked. “Is there something wrong with my teeth?” She had assumed the look was a reaction to how her teeth looked. Crap, Jessica thought. Bridgette rushed to the mirror.

  “Oh, no. No, honey. Let me see. They look absolutely incredible.” Scrambling for an excuse, Jessica whispered, “The man next to me farted.”

  Bridgette giggled. “Farts are always funny. They’re especially funny in closed spaces.” She really did look beautiful. Jessica hugged her tightly for as long as the teenager would allow, which was all of about four seconds.

  “Can we go to the mall? We need dresses for graduation, and I want something new to wear this weekend.”

  “Good idea. You can go to the car.” She handed her daughter the keys. “Let me just run to the restroom.” Jessica wanted to call Joe. She needed to share her conclusions. She kept trying, but she couldn’t get through. There wasn’t a strong enough signal in the orthodontist’s restroom. The call kept failing.

  They got to the mall as quickly as Jessica could drive. She aggressively edged out a BMW for a parking spot. The woman shot them the bird and was screaming something. Jessica couldn’t quite make out what the woman was saying, but at that moment, she didn’t care. On another day maybe, but what she had to do was too important. She defused the situation by smiling and mouthing a quick sorry.

  They hustled in the Macy’s entrance at the Mall of Millenia. Jessica had to ditch her daughter so she could call Joe. She had never been on an op with one of her children. It was kind of problematic. As soon as they were in the dress department, she grabbed four gowns in her size. “I’m going to try these on.”

  “Ick,” Bridgette said, eyeing her mother’s selections. “Meet you back at the door in an hour?”

  Normally Jessica would have objected and fought for some precious mother-daughter time, but she was focused on what she had discovered. She smiled, waiving her phone. “Just answer when I call, please.”

  Bridgette nodded and was off. Jessica turned on her heel and followed the salesgirl. She requested the dressing room in the back corner even though all the other dressing rooms were empty. Jessica selected Joe on her phone. Each ring seemed to take an eternity. She got his voicemail.

  “I only have a second,” she explained, speaking quickly. “Sarin. It’s got to be sarin. Everything else is improbable when you look at what Moreau could have given Zircone from C-FC’s stock and what Zircone could safely transport and deploy.” She hung up and tried the team’s suite. No one answered there either. She didn’t know if she should leave a message. She decided to hang up.

  Frustrated and thinking of Zircone using something as awful as sarin she said, “That asshole.”

  “Are you okay in there?” It was the salesgirl. “Can I get you a different size in anything?”

  “I’m fine,”Jessica called through the door. “I just realized these dresses aren’t what I’m looking for. I’ll be right out.” She heard the salesgirl walk away down the hall. She ran a hand through her hair to mess it up slightly and returned the dresses. She traversed the mall without really taking in her surroundings. Her mind was running through scenarios with targets, delivery methods, and fatality rates. She somehow managed to make it to the other end and back, purchases in hand, just in time to meet Bridgette.

  49

  JESSICA HAD JUST FINISHED GRILLING dinner when her phone rang. She hoped it was Joe calling her back. Nope. Crap. The number came up as Whitley Global Investments. She answered reluctantly.

  “Hello, Mrs. Whitley. This is Erin Stetson. I work for Ms. Crawford.” Jessica squinted her eyes and shook her head slightly. She hadn’t heard the name before, but then again Anderson didn’t tell her anything. “Ms. Crawford assigned me to work on the Miami gala. I have a few questions as well as a few instructions for you.”

  “Go ahead,” Jessica answered impassively, but Erin had barely slowed down for her reply.

  “Ms. Crawford had me send everything to your Gmail account. Please review what I sent and get back to me by tomorrow, so I can share your recommendations with Ms. Crawford.”

  Jessica laughed and thought, A deadline. How nice. In the past, Anderson had always impressed his clients by saying his wife planned the galas and parties. Now he’d reduced her role to making recommendations from a list to his mistress’s assistant, but it wasn’t this girl’s fault. “I’ll email everything back to you as soon as I’m finished. Have a good night.”

  Jessica enjoyed a quick dinner with her kids before they were off to their rooms to do homework. It was early, but she wanted to climb in bed with her laptop and deal with whatever Erin had sent her. At nine thirty Jessica said good night to her kids, turned out all the lights around the house, locked all the doors, set the alarm, and went to her room.

  She was reviewing the gala party options when she got a FaceTime call from Joe. Thank goodness. She needed to talk to him about the chemicals. She did a quick assessment of her situation: the kids’ bedrooms were on the opposite end of the house, her door was shut, and she looked presentable. She clicked on the button to accept the call. She could see from what was behind him that he was in his home office.

  He looked stressed. After quick hellos, he said, “It’s been a crazy day, and it only got worse after getting your message. I think you’re right. Marshall is still running tests. Alejandro and Mark are working their contacts connected to some of the possible organizations that could be tied to this asshole Zircone. I don’t like having to wait to react, but we don’t have any moves. We’ll have to wait until something breaks.”

  “As you know, patience isn’t my best virtue.”

  “Mine either.” Joe looked down, ran a hand through his hair. When he looked up, his face muscles were relaxed and his eyes had that look of mischief. “So, we’ll keep working and when we aren’t, we’ll have to distract ourselves. You know, the op isn’t the only reason I called you,” he said, sending her a look that gave her a rush of heat.

  “Oh?” Jessica smiled, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes. “Are you flirting with me, RO-me-o?”

  “I am. A little.” He laughed. “Besides, the kids are studying and there you are, all alone, looking so adorable.” His voice trailed off.

  “How do you know that? Do you have cameras in my house? Are you having me watched?” Is he spying on me? She knew he had a network of people he could use, and the CIA had an array of advanced surveillance electronics.

  He gave her a big wide smile showing her his perfect teeth and his irresistible dimples. He looked down at his phone. When he looked up, he looked irritated. “I can’t even believe this. What timing. I have to go. I’d say I’d call you back, but I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

  Jessica waved her fingers a
t the camera. “Bye.”

  “Bye, gorgeous.”

  The conversation gave her pause. Joe had been so much warmer and the interaction felt so right, but why the hot and cold? She forced herself to concentrate and finish the party plans. There were some tough choices to make, like gold shimmer versus gold matte. Should the appetizer menu focus on Asian Nuevo, Cuban, or Surf and Turf? She typed a quick note detailing the reason behind some of her choices and sent it all off to Erin.

  Jessica thought about being around Anderson and his new “love” in Miami. Just thinking about the three of them being in the same room together made her feel ill. Pretending everything was fine would not be fun.

  She switched gears and started banging away on the keyboard trying to gather and document as much information on sarin as possible. She brushed up on its history and its use as a chemical weapon. As scary as it was, she needed to know it.

  Sarin was invented as a pesticide in Germany in 1938. It was a colorless, odorless, tasteless liquid, and a fastacting, potent nerve agent. Sarin could be generated easily at the site of an attack by mixing its component chemicals. It was highly volatile, meaning that it quickly evaporated from a liquid into a vapor. Sarin had been classified as a weapon of mass destruction by the UN. Sarin and other nerve agents are believed to have been used during the Iran-Iraq War in the ’80s and by a doomsday cult in Japan in ’94 and ’95. The death toll would have been much worse if they had known what they were doing.

  Jessica’s concentration was broken by a text from Donna.

  Hope your week is going well. Hoping we are still on for the Flower Show tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at 8.

  Jessica laughed at the craziness of it. Her mind went from gala planning to Joe to the gala again to chemical weapons to flowers at Disney’s Epcot. She sent a reply and went back to the task of reviewing the deadly chemical.

  Sarin poisoning occurs through contact with the skin, ingestion, or inhalation of the vapor. Exposure to large doses results in respiratory failure that leads to loss of consciousness, convulsions, paralysis, and death. Recovery from mild exposure is possible with treatment, but the antidotes available have to be used quickly. Survival after severe exposure is unlikely.

  Jessica made a note to make sure everyone on the team started carrying the antidote. She contemplated recommending they alert the CDC and the FBI offices in major cities and concluded that wasn’t the right move since antidote supplies weren’t adequate. Plus, an information leak would lead to panic and risk Zircone releasing the chemicals before they could find him.

  She attached the file and securely emailed it to Joe. She wanted to run some of her concerns by him and sent them in a text message. She turned everything off, switched her phone to silent, and settled in. She heard her phone buzz.

  Just left my meeting. I agree we need to keep the suspicion of sarin quiet. We need to catch this guy. Good work.

  Thanks. Really need sleep. Talk to you tomorrow?

  Sounds good. What PJ choice are you wearing?

  Jessica giggled. She happened to have on a red silk slip.

  You’ll have to wonder, or you can see for yourself—just check those hidden cameras. Sweet dreams.

  Damn! If only there actually were cameras in place. Nite, dream girl.

  With a smile on her face, she put her phone down, did the roll, and drifted off.

  50

  ORLANDO, FLORIDA

  DONNA WOULD BE PICKING UP Jessica in a few minutes. Jessica liked to be the driver and usually was, but Donna’s husband was an executive at Disney, so their cars had football shaped stickers that allowed them certain privileges. One day Jessica had asked her friend what that meant exactly. Donna had said that if the car was parked anywhere on Disney’s vast property, they’d put cones around it and leave it alone. Not that she’d ever do anything like that, but it was still great to be ushered through rows and rows of parked cars all the way to the front of the lot, and not have to ride the tram or try to remember what row they left the car in.

  Jessica and her wonderful cleaning woman, Nadia, were discussing some special projects when the doorbell chimed. Jessica started to leave but stopped, sensing there was something Nadia wanted to say. She was terrified Nadia had finally had it with cleaning up after her two smelly boys and very messy girl. “What’s wrong?”

  “No, no. I have small problem,” Nadia replied in her thick Russian accent. “Immigration lawyer tells me, they not winning my case. I’m afraid they make us all leave. This is only home my Georgie and my Rosie have ever known.”

  “Pardon me?” This was the first Jessica had heard that Nadia had immigration troubles. She had been with Jessica for six years. She trusted Nadia completely. No one had ever rivaled her standards and thoroughness. Jessica would be devastated if she lost the help, but even more than that, she cared deeply about Nadia. “Don’t move. Wait right here.”

  Jessica hurried to the front door and asked Donna to give her a minute.

  “Sure, I have a call I need to make. Come out to the car when you’re ready.”

  Jessica ran back to Nadia who looked nervous. “How long has this been going on? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Two years and a half,” she answered, looking away to avoid eye contact. “I thought things would be okay. I’m sorry, Jessica. I don’t mean to worry you.”It drove Anderson insane that Jessica had anyone who spent a lot of time in their home providing services call her by her first name. She didn’t care. She wouldn’t have been able to stand it if she felt like those people were mere employees.

  “Nadia,” she said, patting her shoulder. “Text me all the information about your case. Include the case number, your lawyer’s name, and anything else you can think of. Do it right away, please. Before you do anything else. I’m going to have some friends look into it.”

  She was referring to Joe and her new friends at the CIA. Sure she had friends who were lawyers and this might be a little abuse of power, but Nadia’s help was crucial for Jessica to be able to travel for her new work. She thought surely the CIA would have some influence with the INS. They were all supposed to be a cooperative alphabet soup, right? All the agencies were one big happy family working for the same side and all that stuff.

  Nadia thanked her and gave her a giant bear hug. The Russian woman was seriously strong. Jessica grabbed her purse and headed for the door.

  Donna drove the few miles to the Disney property. It was amazing how close their homes were to all the parks. In fact, one of the roller coasters at Universal Studios was across the street from the local high school. You could hear the screams of the scared riders all over the school campus. The area where they lived wasn’t touristy itself, but if they ventured out fifteen minutes in any direction they’d hit people who were there to enjoy the magic, rides, adventures, shows, animals, and sunshine. Jessica, her kids, and her friends rarely went to the parks anymore. But the Flower and Garden Show and the Food and Wine Festival were two events Jessica and Donna never missed.

  Donna glanced over. “I’m glad we can go today. The show has been going on for several weeks. I think the timing is perfect for everything to be at peak bloom, not to mention I can definitely use a day to myself,” she said laughing. “It’s been one thing after another lately.”

  The Flower Show at Epcot was beautiful. Going with Donna made it interesting. She knew so much about plants and flowers—their names, histories, what they needed to thrive. Disney employs some of the world’s best botanists, horticulturists, arborists, landscape architects, garden designers, turf grass specialists, and gardeners, putting their creative power to work. They utilized every part of a vast variety of plants—seeds, pods, wood, dirt, grass, and flowers—to make all the characters and other fun objects come to life. Over 500,000 plants, trees, and shrubs as well as thirty-two million blooms are grown for the festival.

  As they walked around the World Showcase, Jessica found she was more aware of her surroundings and people’s movements than she had be
en a week ago. Years away from the operative world had made her complacent and vulnerable, not that her world had been one of danger. She felt she’d been walking around with blinders. Today she saw and evaluated everything as safe, a potential threat, a weapon, or a possible path of egress. Most people never thought about things in this way. They were happily oblivious, and most of the time, they were fine.

  While Donna was in line purchasing some perfume in the Land of France, Jessica felt her phone vibrate. It was a message from Alejandro.

  Marshall identified the background in the picture from Moreau’s apartment. It’s a place in Cuba. Also checked the footage from Montecristo’s. Several Cubans who specialize in “transportation” to the U.S. were drinking with Moreau a few days before his arrest. Looking into it. Think this is a trail to follow.

  Jessica checked Donna’s location. She’d made it up to the register and was paying. Jessica worked her thumbs quickly.

  My friend works for Customs. I’ll reach out to him. Sarin would be fairly easy to smuggle in without anyone noticing.

  Just at that moment, Jessica got the text she’d been expecting from Nadia with her case information. Jessica quickly hit forward and typed in Joe’s number.

  If you can, please help with this. I’d greatly appreciate it. I’ll explain later.

  “Everything all right?” Donna had walked up while Jessica was texting.

  “Sort of,”she said, putting her phone back in her purse. “Nadia has immigration issues, and I was just forwarding her information to my friend who’s a lawyer. It would be terrible if America deported a good, hard-working, family person like Nadia while we allowed other questionable, law-breaking foreigners to stay and continue their criminal activities.” Jessica knew her friend was passionate about politics and immigration laws and would engage in a great conversation. It was an opportunity for an effective redirection of attention.