“Sounds great,” Basil replied.
“Good. I can be at your place in less than thirty minutes.”
“Okay, I’ll see you then. Oh, yeah, before I forget: the food better be as good as you say it is or you will have to use your tip to pick up the tab.”
“No problem, boss; I guarantee, it’s the best.”
Basil hung up, pleased with his decision to grab a bite to eat with his new friend. He knew that if his hunch was correct about the FSA and the dead scientists, a simple diversion would allow him to think more clearly. Plus, he really did enjoy David’s company and dinner would allow the two of them to become better acquainted. As a result of all the controversy surrounding his public position on HIV, he had lost many of his close friends and associates. David’s offer of friendship seemed genuine and was welcome.
Dinner at the Moroccan restaurant was exactly what both men needed. The food, the ambiance and the conversation created a union both believed would last.
“Listen, David,” Basil said as he sipped his tea, “I really want to thank you for asking me out tonight for dinner. When I’m working on projects, sometimes I get so consumed in my work that missing a meal becomes common practice.”
“No problem, Basil. Like I said the other night, you helped me without even knowing it. Sometimes I get down and I have to fight just to want to live.”
In a strange way, Basil knew where David was coming from. On several different occasions, he too had wanted to give up, especially after the government had deliberately destroyed his credibility and painted him as a crazy man who had lost his way. He too had contemplated the worst, but instead, he’d fought back. Basil replied, “There was a time in my life when I wanted to give up, too, but I couldn’t. I lost everything simply because I challenged people I worked with and trusted. People I thought were my friends abandoned me.”
David said, “At least you know what happened and why it happened, Basil. You know who they really are and you’re not sitting around wondering. You have to take a look at yourself, too. We think we can build relationships with our colleagues, but we really can’t. We can’t build and develop good relationships with the people we work for or with and that, my friend, sounds like your biggest mistake. And I might add, the cause of your disappointment.”
Basil knew that what David said was not only true but laden with wisdom and understanding. In just a couple of days, he had not only found a friend, but one who had wisdom he was willing to share with him.
“Now that you have me all figured out, David, what about you?” Basil said. “What has you so down?”
“Life, Basil. Life. No matter what, everywhere I go trouble seems to find me. But enough about me; I’m a cabdriver. My life is what it is. Your life, on the other hand, is exciting and honestly, I would rather live vicariously through you right now. So what were you working on today?”
Basil could easily see his friend was struggling with something, but, rather than push the envelope, he decided to respect his wishes and change the subject.
“Nothing really,” he replied. “Just some research for a colleague. Why do you ask?”
“Just curious, that’s all. Sometimes I get bored driving a cab all day so, if you need any help with anything, let me know. I’m pretty good with a computer.”
“Wait a minute,” Basil said jokingly. “Aren’t you the guy that just gave me this philosophical lesson on being friends with people you work with?”
“Yeah, I guess you got a point,” David said, laughing. “Anyway, just know that if you need me for anything, I have other skills. I’m not limited to just driving.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, friend, but on that note, I need to get home. I have a lot of work to do before my trip next Saturday.”
“Okay, no problem.” David lifted his drink, consumed it, and then wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt. “Oh, yeah, if you want, I can take you to the airport next Saturday.”
“Sure,” Basil said, suddenly questioning whether David might be coming on to him. “There’s nothing like free cab service and a good conversation on your way to the airport.”
“I said I’d give you a ride, friend,” David replied with a devilish grin. “I didn’t say anything about it being free.”
Once back in his building, Basil was eager to get to work again. He had enjoyed dinner and was even flattered by the thought that David may have been coming on to him, but that was as far as it went. Basil was many things, but gay was not one of them. He had two failed marriages and was looking forward to his third turn at wedlock and it wasn’t going to be with a man.
Basil started working right where he had left off. While out, he had found himself thinking about the dead scientists and wondering whether there was a connection with the FSA. He knew that two FSA team members had died under questionable circumstances and when he added Isabella to the equation that made three members murdered.
It took all night, but by the time Basil finished putting all the pieces together, he could not believe what he had found. According to his search, every member of the FSA program — except one — had either been murdered or died mysteriously. And all of them had specialized in infectious agents that could be manufactured as biological weapons.
What was even more important was the name of the one surviving member: Lance St. John. Teddy was right. There is a relationship between the FSA, the dead scientists and Lance. All evidence seemed to suggest that not only was Lance the key, but more importantly, he was in danger.
With the new knowledge that every other member of the FSA team was dead, Basil knew he needed more information on the project that Lance and Isabella had worked on. So far, he knew only that a select group of students nationwide had been selected to participate and all had been assigned a senior scientist to work with — except for Lance and Isabella. Their assignment, to deconstruct a biological weapon, was the FSA’s premier research initiative. Lance and Isabella had a separate set of security procedures and guidelines they had to follow and obedience to these rules was routinely monitored.
As he began to put all the pieces together, Basil jumped up from his computer and began to pace. Things were finally making better sense. He was sure he was on to something. He just wished he had someone he could talk to, to confirm his thinking. He was now convinced the FSA program was a cover-up and the biological deconstruction initiative was the main reason for the FSA program. The evidence suggested that the other groups had just been used to cover up the fact that the military was creating biological weapons. To cover their tracks, the military used the world’s brightest young scientists to do their work. But why? The military could and had before, created biological weapons themselves, so what made this weapon so different?
Basil continued his research as he pondered the big question of why students had been selected to do something that in his opinion, the military could easily have done itself. He remembered Teddy saying that Isabella and Lance had been charged with developing a mock biological weapon that could be easily released without detection, but that could be tracked through biological fluids once the host entered the body and could be transferred to another host. Just the computerized simulation of the rate of transfer from host to host would be noteworthy. So where was their analysis?
As much as Basil loved the idea of finding all he could on the work Isabella and Lance had created, he knew it would be futile unless he had inside help. The deeper he probed, the program itself seemed virtu-ally to disappear and that was difficult to do once something had been posted on the internet.
Plus, Basil was tired and he knew he needed to sleep. With the exception of dinner with David, he had worked basically nonstop researching Teddy’s theory since he had left Teddy at the library. Not to mention the fact that he hadn’t done any of his own work. In one month, he was scheduled to speak in New York at the National Dissident Meeting, a gathering he had helped to organize. Any other time he would have been on the phone talking to the meeting coordinat
ors, asking how many attendees had registered, questioning whether the group was meeting its hotel responsibility and determining how many workshops had been finalized. Anything and everything from the smallest detail to the largest plan would have had his involvement. But, since his commitment to Teddy, his work had taken a backseat.
ACT II
THE REVEAL
To make (previously unknown or secret information) known to others.
Chapter 10
LAUREN DROPPED TEDDY off at Midway Airport with about two hours to spare; long enough to check her bags and her firearm with the Office of Law Enforcement/Federal Air Marshal Service. In her usual manner, she headed to her gate, picked up a newspaper and found something to snack on for her two-hour trip.
Since she traveled back and forth often between Chicago and DC, she recognized familiar faces and they recognized her as well. The Chicago-to-DC passenger manifest was always filled with notables. Illinois was well represented in DC and often you would see someone from the House or the Senate en route. However, Teddy’s favorite passenger was Rev. Hershel Wiley. She loved it when he was on her flight. He was a direct descendant from the civil rights movement, a man of great power and worldwide influence and revered in many circles, even when his views were not always popular.
Teddy had learned to tell before the plane even taxied to her gate if Wiley was flying. No matter where he went, he traveled with a small entourage. Most of the men in his retinue got their status simply by be-ing with him. After all, he was the alpha male, make no mistake about it. But, anyone who traveled with him brought something of value to the table, even if it was as simple as being his personal assistant. And the women. Although he did not travel often with women, those who did travel with him were the best and the brightest, smart, articulate powerhouses, capable of competing with anyone.
Regardless of what people thought about the Reverend Wiley, he was a gifted man. His intellectual dexterity was far more advanced than most and his ability to extrapolate all possibilities was extraordinary. It was no wonder he was a threat to some and an ally to others.
Based on what she now saw of the landscape, Teddy knew her flight to DC would not be as quiet and uneventful as she had hoped. Reverend Wiley was clearly flying and she was more than certain they would be engaged in a conversation the entire time.
“Good evening, everyone. Southwest Flight 5683 to Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport in Washington DC is ready to board. If you are flying first class or have small children or need assistance, you can begin to board now. Thank you for flying Southwest.”
Once on board Teddy briefly spoke to the passenger sitting next to her. They had seen each other before on several occasions. Finally settled in, Teddy quietly shut her eyes and asked God to bless the flight and each person on board. As she leaned her head against the window, she could feel His presence. Life felt good and she wanted to savor it.
As usual, when Reverend Wiley boarded the plane, he was the last to get on and also as usual, his mere presence held up a flight’s departure.
“Excuse me, sir,” Wiley said to the man sitting next to Teddy as he leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Teddy, Teddy, Teddy! I didn’t know you were on this flight. No one said anything to me. So it looks like someone is going to be fired,” he said, laughing.
“Reverend Wiley,” the flight attendant said as she tapped his arm, “I hate to interrupt your conversation, but it’s time for you to take your seat.”
“Yes, of course,” he said, sporting his signature smile. “Sir, would you mind if we switch seats?” Wiley said to Teddy’s seatmate. “I have the aisle seat directly across from you, but I would love to sit next to my beautiful friend.”
“No problem,” the man said with a smile.
“Thank you,” Wiley said, as Teddy gave the man a smile of gratitude.
“I’m so glad to see you.” Wiley reached over and grabbed Teddy’s hand. “I have been thinking about you lately.”
“Oh, yeah? Then something must be wrong with my services because I haven’t had any calls from you, Rev.”
Wiley couldn’t help himself. Once he realized Teddy was pulling his leg, he let out a laugh that roared through first class.
“You are so much like your mother,” he said, “especially when she tries to be funny.”
Now they both laughed boldly. It appeared no one minded.
“So, Teddy, how have you been? Are you involved in the Whitherspoon investigation?”
“Yes, I am,” she said quietly.
“I thought so,” Wiley said. “I’ve been thinking about the case myself and truth be told, I think his death is linked to all the other high-ranking murders, including that of my friend Commerce Secretary Rachel McClendon.”
Teddy looked at him intently as he continued. “At first, I didn’t think anything of it. You know, when God determines it’s time for you to come home, He doesn’t concern himself with how you depart. He’s only concerned with your soul. However, when Whitherspoon was murdered, I started to get this nagging feeling there was a connection.”
“Why is that, Rev?”
“Well, the last time I saw Whitherspoon — it had been a few months earlier, in Rachel’s office — they were discussing the rate of HIV disease in the District. I didn’t think too much about it until Rachel was found dead. They said it was a car accident but I don’t believe it. All I could think about was that I had seen her with Whitherspoon before her death and then, before I could wrap my arms around her death, Whitherspoon was murdered. So, is it true? Was it an execution-style hit?”
To prevent the conversation from going viral, Teddy had to move Wiley in another direction, at least while they were in the air.
“Excuse me, Reverend,” Teddy said. “I don’t mean to cut you off, but I’m not feeling well and I need to go to the bathroom.”
“Yes, of course,” he said as he unbuckled his seat belt and stood. “Are you all right? Should I ask for some assistance?”
“No, I’m fine.” Acting had never been her forte, but she played this role exceptionally well. By now, the other passengers had taken notice. “Believe it or not, Rev, as much as I fly, I still get motion sickness.”
After about twenty minutes in the washroom, including several inquiries from the flight attendant, Teddy emerged. Now with only forty minutes of flight time left, she could easily pretend she needed to be still for the remainder. This would force Wiley to end his in-flight theoretical analysis, at least until they landed.
After retrieving her weapon and getting outside the airport, Teddy felt at ease. No longer needing to avoid the conversation, Teddy now pressed the issue. “How long will you be in the District, Rev?”
“I’m here until Friday evening. Then I head back to Chicago for the Saturday Morning Roundtable. Why do you ask?”
“I have some pressing business that I need to attend to but if I get a chance, I want to talk to you again before you leave. I think there might be some merit in your analysis, but I need to check some things out first to make sure.”
Wiley’s facial expression showed that Teddy had piqued his curiosity.
“But, Reverend, you have to sit still. Let me finish my investigation and I’ll call you. And try not to share your theory with others. If there’s any merit to your premise — which there might be — you should be the one who publicly breaks the story and have the facts to back it up.”
Teddy said just enough to ensure he would keep quiet. She knew Wiley well enough to know that he liked breaking stories. She also knew that if she could keep him quiet, she could use him down the road when it was time to go public. With a conspiracy this sinister, this story would need several faces to ensure that it didn’t get buried once the truth was told. When he had the facts, Wiley would not only give the story strength, momentum and credibility, but he would also inadvertently help flush out all those involved.
“My dear Ms. Teddy,” Wiley said, while motioning his entourage to go on ahead of him,
“I have no problem waiting on your direction and I can assure you that you are the only one I have shared my thoughts with. Whatever you need me to do, know that I will. Rachel and Clarence were my friends and neither one of them deserved to die the way they did. So just keep me posted.”
“Great, Rev.” Teddy stood on her toes to hug the giant who stood in front of her.
“Can I give you a ride somewhere, Teddy?”
“No, Rev, but thanks anyway.”
“Okay,” he said as he hailed her a cab. It took Teddy less than forty minutes to arrive at her downtown condo. Even though she had spent the last six years in Chicago, she still loved DC and spent at least one weekend a month there. She had watched it expand from a small city to a growing metropolis.
Even with all the thoughts going through her head, as she reached her floor, she immediately noticed that something seemed different. Her floor had been accessed.
The Stratton Building had twenty-four luxury condos, two on each floor. Her only neighbor, an archaeologist, was off somewhere working on one of his excavations and was scheduled to be gone at least six months; and Claire had moved to Europe. So why had her floor been accessed? Or had it? Could she be mistaken? After all, she was tired and a little on edge and the inner peace and comfort she had experienced in Chicago seemed to be dissipating.
With weapon drawn, Teddy turned the key to her outer door and entered her foyer. Once inside, she noticed that the door leading into the living area was open. Cautiously, she moved to open the door wider. And there he was — a man’s silhouette in front of her picture window.
Velvet Mafia Page 21
