by Cassie Cole
Aina looked at me. “Nothing,” she said sweetly. “We intend for you to live long enough to return to the United States, so you can tell your meddling government the futility of interfering in Spanish business. Phillip, give her some water. She looks thirsty.”
The man in the spectacles handed Phillip a bottle of water. He took it with suspicious care and then walked over to me.
I was thirsty. My mouth was dry and my tongue felt swollen. I was eager for a drink.
Yersinia pestis.
I remembered where I knew that name. It was a facultative anaerobic organism, which meant it was able to grow with or without the presence of oxygen. The bacterium was rod-shaped, something I knew because I’d studied it in textbooks. Everyone in microbiology studied yersinia pestis, both because of what it was and its footprint on human history.
It was the bacterium which caused the black death. The plague.
Phillip unscrewed the cap to the water bottle and raised it to my lips. The water looked cloudy behind the plastic. I waited until it was about to touch my mouth, then I jerked my head one way, then the other, head-butting it out of his hand.
The water bottle spilled its contents across the floor. Phillip growled and slapped me, spreading fire across my cheek.
“The plague!” I shouted. “You’re giving everyone bubonic plague!”
Aina laughed. “The bubonic plague is transferred in the blood stream. This is septicemic plague, more suited for water droplets. And you wanted us to believe you were a microbiologist!”
I realized where we were: in one of the many pumping stations carrying water throughout the city. They were going to contaminate the drinking water.
And there were hundreds of misting fans in the festival, spraying everyone with water to keep cool.
Aina barked an order in Spanish, then the older man connected a tube to the end of one of the metal tanks on the ground. Aina connected the other end to a feeding valve into one of the water flows, then twisted the valve open. The water flowing through the glass cross-section turned cloudy.
“Phillip,” Aina said, in English for my benefit, “test the water levels when the tanks are empty. Then force some of the water down this bitch’s throat.” She smiled her sweet smile at me again, dark eyes shining with glory. “I will be back for you soon. We will take you somewhere safe to allow the plague to cook inside your body. Spreading and festering. When we return you to the CIA, your hands and feet will be black with necrosis.”
She laughed and left with the older man.
47
Karen
I sat in my chair and watched as the tank of bacteria was emptied into the Madrid water supply. When the pressure dial reached zero and Phillip began testing the water, I slumped my head in defeat.
Historically, the septicemic plague spread from moisture in the air from coughing and sneezing. Water misters would accomplish it far more effectively, and on a larger scale. The first symptom, fever, would come within two or three days of exposure. Headaches, too. Like a typical cold or a really bad allergic reaction.
Nausea and weakness would follow on the fourth day. By then most people would assume they had the flu. Some would start taking over-the-counter medicine like NyQuil, which would not help. In fact, the acetaminophen in Nyquil would probably accelerate the disease since it caused vasodilation.
Day five would be the worst. That’s when the disease would spread to the lymph nodes, causing immense swelling in the arm pits, groin, and neck. Necrosis on the fingers and toes would also begin. By then, people would really know something was wrong.
Treatment of the plague was trivial in modern times. It was a bacterium, which meant a regimen of antibiotics would completely wipe out the disease if caught early. But by the time people knew something was seriously wrong, the required treatment would be more intense and less effective. If untreated for several days, the mortality rate would be upwards of 40%.
I’d learned all of this years ago in biology class, when its only relevance to my life was an appearance on a midterm exam.
Three million people lived in Madrid. That would means tens of thousands dead. Maybe more, depending on how quickly it spread before disease centers realized what was happening. The first few days were always crucial.
And I was tied to a chair, unable to do anything to stop it.
Phillip took a sample of the water, looked at it under a microscope, and then clapped his hands with excitement. “This is good,” he announced to me, his audience of one. “You should be excited, Karen! You are witnessing history.”
I was too ashamed to meet his gaze.
He went to my bag of belongings and started rummaging through. He held up a pair of my panties, shimmied his narrow hips, and tossed them aside. Then he pulled out my cell phone.
“Here we are.” He began clicking through it, then gave me a pout. “Karen. You deleted my phone number! Such a rude thing to do. Typical American. This is okay, though. Do you know why?”
When I didn’t answer, he procured a pair of tweezers from his pocket.
“My number was not the reason for touching your phone that night.” He stuck the tweezers into the charging port on the bottom of the phone, giving it a little yank. He tossed my phone to the ground and held the tweezers out for me to see: a tiny microchip, maybe half the size of my pinky nail.
“You have been more helpful than you will ever know, Karen! Following you around has revealed much information for us, yes?”
A tracking device. He must have slipped it into my charging port when he put his number in my phone at the club. That’s why my phone hasn’t been charging properly. That’s how the CLF knew the location of the cafe command center, and Jack’s safe house on the other end of the tunnel, and our hideout at Sofia’s palace, and the resort on Mallorca.
All of it was my fault.
My vision shimmered, so I closed my eyes so he could not see my tears.
“Karen! Do not be sad.” Phillip knelt by the running tunnel of water and splashed some out in my direction. “You are thirsty, yes? It will be easy. I do not want to force it down your throat, but I will if I have to. Aina says you must choke on it for it to be truly effective. To get the disease in the lungs, yes?”
“Go to hell,” I said.
He made a clicking noise with his tongue. “You should be happier. Your America was founded on breaking away from an imperialist nation. Catalonia wants the same! This will be a tremendous blow against imperialism.”
“There are children in the festival,” I said, disgust in my voice. “You’re murdering them all!”
“If you desire an omelet, eggs must be broken.”
“That’s a terrible cliche.”
He waggled his palm in the air. “Cliches are cliches because they are accurate.”
“Or because you’re too stupid to think of an original explanation for killing children.”
He glowered at me. “You are not as pretty as I thought when I saw you in the club. You should smile more.”
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “So it was all a setup? You weren’t drugging me in the club to take advantage of me… You did it because you thought I was CIA?”
“But of course.”
“I still don’t understand. Why did you think I was CIA?”
“Two Americans were seen leaving the naval base,” Phillip explained. We believed they were meeting with an operative in the club. It was the only explanation for them to break cover and go out in public in the middle of the night.”
I laughed bitterly. The real explanation was that they were horny and bored. Life was stupid sometimes.
Phillip clapped his hands together. “And we were right, of course! Tracking you is my way to move up in the organization. My opinion matters now. I am consulted on things.” He puffed out his chest.
“Congratulations on the promotion.”
“And now I am given the delicious task of you.” He pulled out a small spray bottle and filled it with t
ainted water. “I will take you to one of our safe houses. You will cook in a basement for a week until you are black and sick as a dog. Then we will release you, so that your government can see what happens to those who interfere with Catalan independence.”
He twisted the cap on the spray bottle, then pulled on a medical mask over his mouth and nose. He gave the bottle two test squirts. It sprayed water mist into the air.
“Time for your medicine,” he said through the mask.
As he approached me, several things ran through my head. Guilt for causing all of this, and sorrow for not being able to stop it. Helplessness at knowing Logan, Cairo, and Hunter weren’t going to barge through the door and rescue me. Anger at myself for being so stupid.
But one thought ran through my head strongest of all. It was the same thought I had when he’d thrown me out the window and I thought I was falling to my death.
I’m not ready to die.
Phillip stopped in front of me and aimed the spray bottle. I planted my feet and launched forward, lunging with my knee, striking him as hard as I could in the crotch. The spray bottle went flying in one direction, and Phillip stumbled to the ground in the other.
Chair still tied behind me, I scrambled over to the bag. My gun was still inside. My hands were tied behind the chair, but if I could crouch above the bag and somehow grab the gun…
Phillip groaned and lurched to his feet, one hand clutching his groin. “You will die for that, puta,” he growled.
My fingers touched cold metal inside the bag. I pulled but dropped it again. Phillip realized what I was doing and rushed toward me, but he was careless as he stepped through the water he had splashed earlier, and his foot flew out beneath him, throwing him sideways…
He fell into the tunnel of water. The current rapidly carried him away, one futile hand reaching out for something to grasp. Then he was gone, carried away into the water turbine room and certain death.
I never even heard him scream. He never had a chance to. The only sound was the soft hum of machinery and the gargle of the water flow.
My chest heaved like I’d run a marathon. I took a moment to collect myself.
The first thing I needed to do was get rid of the chair tied behind me. The ropes around my wrist were too tight. The chair was wood. In a spurt of energy, I ran at the nearest wall, twisting at the last moment to smash the chair into the concrete.
Wood cracked and splinters flew. I screamed as pain shot through my hand and wrist. The pain was so intense I dropped to my knees and almost vomited. Great. My hand was now injured, and possibly broken.
But the chair was breaking apart behind me.
Slowly, I maneuvered the chair and my aching hand until pieces of the wood fell away from the restraints. With the wood gone, the rope was loose enough for me to slip my hands free.
There were two doors into this service room. I used my good hand to test one—locked. I found the other the same. The only other exit was the way Phillip had taken. And unlike the chair, there was no way I could smash open the door.
Now what do I do?
48
Logan
“Fuck!” I said from the front seat of the car.
“Fuck,” Hunter agreed in the back while loading his rifle. We had our full equipment with us, now.
Cairo said nothing as he drove the car around the city, honking at the people in the way.
Everything we’d done was a mistake. I saw that clearly, now. We shouldn’t have brought her under our wing. After Cairo and Hunter got seen at the club, we should have sent the information up the chain of command instead of trying to cover it up.
Karen was just an innocent college girl having fun. And now she might die.
No. I couldn’t accept that. Not while there was still a chance.
Cairo sped down a side street, then reached another blocked-off area for the festival. “Come on!” I shouted, reaching over to wail on the horn. The police manning the roadblock only stared at us like we were the idiots.
“Not that I disagree with what we’re doing,” Cairo said quietly, “but what about our orders?”
“Fuck our orders,” I growled. “We’re useless while patrolling around. We’re getting Karen back.”
“Fucking right, LC!” Hunter said, smacking me hard on the shoulder.
I looked at the tracker on my phone. “She’s not far now. We’ll go the rest of the way on foot.”
We climbed out of the car with our rifles held at the ready. The police tensed until I showed them our credentials, then they allowed us to pass into the festival.
We drew the eyes of every festival patron as we walked down the street. A gap in the crowd opened for us, a spectacle as exciting as any of the bouncing puppets or masks. We passed under a misting fan, which left droplets on the side of my face and neck. I kept a quick pace, moving forward while doing my best to look around.
She might be a trap. The CLF might have nabbed her so we would have to come right to them, and they were waiting.
I didn’t care. I would die to get Karen back if need be.
And as I looked at Hunter and Cairo at my side, determination shining in their eyes, I knew they would too.
The blinking dot on my tracking app grew larger. “There,” I pointed at a building. “She’s there.”
“The restaurant?” Cairo asked. “Or the apartments above?”
“We’ll have to find out.”
I switched the safety off my assault rifle as we neared. If I were the CLF, I’d be in the apartments above, giving me a vantage down on everyone. The square here was wide; a few gunmen in those windows could kill 200 people in only a few seconds. I kept my eyes glued to the window on the left, which was open. Was that a figure inside, veiled in shadow? Watching the crowd below?
My phone chirped. I looked at it and stopped.
“Wait.”
The others froze. “What’s up, LC?”
“She’s not in that building. She’s here. In the middle of the square.”
It didn’t make any sense—and then it did. They must have discovered the tracker while moving her, and had ditched it along the way. I scanned the ground for the necklace. If it turned out they had ditched it, and we didn’t know where Karen was…
But we didn’t find the necklace. And her location hadn’t moved at all. She was right here. I scanned the crowd. Cairo did the same.
“Hey LC?” Hunter said. He tapped his foot.
He was standing on a metal manhole. He looked a question at me.
“Do it,” I said, going on a hunch.
The crowd watched curiously as we removed the manhole cover and then climbed down into the sewer. Ignoring the awful smell, we followed a tunnel for 50 feet, then turned left and climbed down another ladder to a service tunnel. We followed Karen’s blinking dot until we came to a door. I tested it—locked.
I held up three fingers, then two, then one.
I kicked open the door and ran inside while the others covered me. My gun scanned the small space. There was only one person inside.
Karen.
She aimed a P226 pistol in her left hand and fired. The concussion of the shot in the confined spaces made my ears ring, but I ignored it and snatched the gun from her hand. She trembled, then smiled.
“Logan!”
She threw her arms around me, letting out a whimper before cradling her right hand. Then she bent back over the row of computer equipment as if we were already forgotten.
“Karen? What are you doing here?” Cairo asked.
“Did you come here on your own?” I asked. “We thought the CLF…”
“They did,” she interrupted. “They kidnapped me. They’re contaminating the Madrid water supply with yersinia pestis. The plague.”
“What the fuck, dude!” Hunter shouted.
“It’s especially effective when airborne,” she explained while typing at a computer with one hand. The other hand was swollen. “The misting fans up in the festival will be extremely e
ffective in spreading the disease.”
“Oh fuck!” Hunter dropped his rifle and began wiping his face. “I walked through like every fucking misting fan up there! It’s all over me!”
“Calm down,” Karen said. “I’m working on it.”
“You just told me I’ve got the plague!” he shouted, stripping his clothes. “Do I need to burn this stuff? Should I try to make myself vomit?”
I’d walked through some misting fans as well, but I was thinking of the larger-scale issues with what she had said. “We need to call for a full evacuation of the festival.”
Cairo squeezed Karen’s shoulder. She smiled at him. “If word gets out, it’ll cause a stampede,” he said. “Hundreds will die.”
“And how many will die if we don’t evacuate?” I asked.
“I said I’m working on it,” Karen said.
“It’s not our call,” I said, pulling out my walkie talkie. “Right now we report to the chief of police. I’ll send the info up the chain and let them decide how best to handle it.”
Karen whirled away from the computer. “Would you please listen to me? I said I’m working on a solution.”
“For real?” Hunter asked.
“The plague is a simple bacterium. It can be killed in individual cases with simple antibiotics, but in the water source we have a more elegant solution…”
Still cradling her right hand, Karen used an eyedropper to add three drops of liquid into a glass beaker. Then she stirred it together, used a clean eyedropper to take a sample, and added it to a slide next to one of the microscopes on the table.
“Fluoride,” she said proudly. “Fluoride is already added to Spanish drinking water. An initial shock of fluoride, then a lower dose, should do the trick. Only a few parts per million difference, but that’s enough to kill the bacterium.” She gestured at the microscope as if that held all the evidence she needed.
“There won’t be any weird side effects?” I asked.
“The people of Madrid will have very clean teeth for the next few days.”
“Oh man. The conspiracy theorists are really going to go nuts if they find out about this.” Hunter wiped his forehead. “So is that all I need to be safe? Like, I can eat some toothpaste or something?”
