Lauren shook her head in awe. “Everything He told me has come true. Look at you and me. After all these years apart from one another and now together again. Everything He told me has come true. But he never once told me, Teddy, that I would be free from this thorn in my side. I believe He used HIV to bring me closer to Him and you know what? Right now, my fear is that, if I no longer have the virus, I will forget where I came from and lose my relationship with Him.”
As Teddy listened to Lauren, she began wondering if she was being selfish. Lauren had never complained about her status, so why did she want to change something that was obviously not broken? And never once had she asked God if what she, Teddy, wanted for Lauren was His will.
Teddy suddenly realized she was operating outside of God’s will. She had just assumed that providing the antidote to Lauren was part of the overall plan. And now? She wasn’t sure anymore.
“Lauren, please forgive me for even bringing this to you,” Teddy said, clearly remorseful. “I got ahead of myself. And now I know this is not my decision to make. This is a decision that has to be made by you and God. I was wrong for even suggesting you take the antidote. I hope you can forgive me. I just wanted to do something for someone I loved rather than watch someone I love die because of something someone I loved did.”
“Stop Teddy,” Lauren said as she finally began to stand up. “If I had been in your position, I probably would have done the same thing. It wasn’t selfishness that prompted you to act the way you did; it was love. Now I have a lot to think about, so let’s call it a night.”
Teddy was awakened by a familiar sound and a remarkable smell. Lauren was in the kitchen singing and doing that other thing she loved to do: cooking. She was amazed Lauren was up so early, especially considering that by the time they had ended their discussion and headed to bed, the sun had been trying to come up.
“Good morning, pumpkin! How did you sleep? I slept like a baby.”
“I slept okay,” Teddy said as she admired Lauren’s youthfulness. “But I definitely didn’t get the type of sleep you clearly did. So what’s your secret?”
“My faith is my secret. God assured me again last night that He would take care of all my needs and He informed me that I shouldn’t worry. So I did exactly what He said to do: I stopped worrying and accepted that His will would be done. So, to answer your question as to whether I want to take the antidote, I think I will pass. Instead, I choose to wait on God’s deliverance.”
Instead of asking more questions and pondering more deeply the unknown, Teddy simply accepted that everything was in order. Just as she had prayed it would be.
Blake made it back to DC within an hour of dropping Teddy off at the hangar where she had left her GTO. Even though he’d had a wonderful time in Chicago, he wanted to get home. Devon was heavy on his mind and he felt strongly he would find answers in the stack of papers hidden under the floorboards beneath his Moroccan bed.
Thinking about the papers made him anxious. He had always been curious, but at the same time, he had to admit that his reluctance to read his father’s will had been based solely on the fact that he hadn’t been ready for closure. But now things were different. It had been almost nine months since Devon had passed and it was time. The trip to Chicago and spending time with both old and new friends reminded him that his life had been a lie, one he himself couldn’t undo — until now.
Reading through the material, Blake noticed that his father had gone into great detail to ensure that the Laurie name and its heirs were protected. What he didn’t understand was why his father had written the will in such a way that suggested he had expected it to be challenged.
I, Yancy Laurie, legally and in sound mind, having the capacity to think, reason, and understand myself, leave all my fortune to my two sons, Devon Yancy Laurie and Blake Daniel Jones [Mother: Lillian Jones]. If both my sons die, the entire Clydesdale fortune would be transferred to District of Columbia councilmember Guy Ulysses Yeager as the estate’s beneficiary. This provision will stay in effect and cannot be challenged unless, within one [1] year of the will being filed, the remaining heir changes the provision outlined in the stipulation and identifies a new beneficiary for the estate.
At that moment, Blake realized that everything Devon had said was right. Guy Yeager had manipulated his way into his father’s heart, and his father was willing to provide for him if no living heir existed. This new revelation brought clarity. For years, Blake had wondered why his father had sealed his will. At first, he hadn’t really thought too much about it because both he and Devon were well taken care of and as far as the business went, he had authority over everything.
Lying on the bed, Blake couldn’t help but think about the provision his father had made for Yeager. His father had given Yeager the motive he needed to kill him. And if his calculations were correct, Yeager had about three months to pull it off. This was the bait Blake had been looking for. So far he didn’t have anything solid on Yeager regarding Devon’s death, but he knew that Yeager was present when Isabella was murdered.
Blake was determined to destroy Yeager’s life just as Yeager had destroyed the lives of Devon and Isabella. But before he could do anything else, he had to change the provisions in the will and seal it. This way, the only will available publicly would be the one with his father’s original stipulation.
As much as Blake tried, he couldn’t stop thinking about the tactics his father had used in outlining his will. He couldn’t believe Guy Yeager was named so prominently in the document. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that if his father had wanted someone to have something, he would have given it to that person when he was alive. Since he hadn’t, then the provision actually was a warning from his father. His father must have known what Yeager was capable of doing, including hurting Devon and challenging his will for a share of the inheritance.
After coming to terms with his father’s true intentions, Blake knew he had to protect the Laurie name by any means necessary. He realized he couldn’t guarantee that he wouldn’t be killed, but he knew exactly how to assure that his family’s legacy would be protected.
ACT III
THE RELEASE
To allow (information) to be generally available
Chapter 21
FOR THE PAST week, Basil had been on campus preparing for the release of the final DaKira Paper and the accompanying press conference. He’d spent his entire time working to ensure that everything went as planned, including spending an exorbitant amount of time training and educating Reverend Wiley on the conspiracy and their findings.
It was extremely important to make sure Wiley was credible and in this case, a subject matter expert. To do that, he had to be trained about viruses and how a virus could be turned into a biological weapon. Wiley was well versed on the sociopolitical and economic ramifications, but it was just as important for him to know the scientific intricacies as well.
What Wiley had going for him was the fact that he had been a Rhodes Scholar, so the education process wasn’t difficult. In fact, much to Basil’s surprise, once Wiley understood the mechanics of the virus and its ability under the right circumstances to change its DNA structure, he was able to communicate the technical aspects in lay terms using the simplest analogies to explain the most profound scientific anomalies.
The news surrounding the DaKira Papers had garnered worldwide attention and there was great anticipation surrounding the third and final paper. The first had outlined the conspiracy and the second had suggested the weapon was the catalyst for the emergence of the gay community as a super-minority. Now, everybody waited with bated breath for the final document to be published.
This one would be more scientific; it would deconstruct the weapon as well as introduce the antidote and its properties, and the results of the testing. The first paper had indicated that human subjects were being used to test the effectiveness of the antidote, and many wanted to know whether it worked, especially in light of the fact that the
United States had taken a very unusual position. Instead of the usual industry leaders weighing in on the papers and their impact, the US had aroused the attention of the world media because of the person selected to represent the government’s position.
It was widely believed that once the papers were evaluated, experts in the field would argue against the findings outlined by the papers’ mysterious author. But, instead of experts from the government’s leading agencies, a virtual unknown in the AIDS community — Dr. Charles A. Brubaker — was taking the lead and responding to the accusations outlined in the papers. He had become the nation’s dissenting voice. To further add suspicion about the government’s denouncing the authenticity of the paper’s thesis, Dr. Brubaker refuted the allegation in one email simply by stating:
The assertions made by the mysterious writer outlining such a sinister plan lead me to believe that the writer obviously suffers from fictional delusions and is a creative writer at best. But there is no evidence to support his/her assertions.
Dr. Brubaker’s message created a panic and drew attention from the world’s very vocal gay community, the one community that would suffer the most backlash if it were found to be true that AIDS was in fact, a biological weapon created in order to bring about a new world order.
Along with everyone else, the gay community expected the usual suspects would respond to the allegations. When that didn’t happen, some in the gay community began to blog about the papers, asking whether AIDS had indeed been part of a government conspiracy. Having all the typical industry experts shut out of the debate only made matters worse. Now, all attention was on Dr. Charles Brubaker.
Basil had written the first two papers in hopes that the gay community would do what they did so well. To finish the job, he also knew he would need help. So, by emphasizing that an unintended consequence had created a super-minority, the one community that would want to prove the conspiracy was not true would dig in and not let it go.
The plan had worked. Basil had been right. Before you knew it, a second-year journalism student from MIT had hacked into the military’s central intelligence database and discovered answers to the two questions everyone had: what was the government hiding and who was Dr. Charles A. Brubaker?
What she found had made the DaKira Papers come alive.
The truth was that Brubaker had a vested interest. He was the ranking member of the Special Virus Initiative and as the ranking member, he did not want the public to think that HIV was a biological weapon or that the US government operated a Special Virus Initiative funded by the military with the capability of doing exactly what the DaKira Papers had insinuated.
Once the story broke, everything was fair game and each and every day more stories surfaced. As with dominoes, each story lent more credence to the accusations presented in the DaKira Papers. Soon major networks were discussing the Future Scientists of America program and the unusual deaths associated with those linked to the program. Even stories about Basil and the dissident movement were resurfacing.
But much of the focus was on Brubaker and how he was arguing that the DaKira Papers were nothing more than an elaborate fictional war game. Some talking heads accused Brubaker of creating a diversion. They claimed the DaKira Papers had to be true because of the tactical position Brubaker had taken; it was clearly evident that his main goal was to divert attention from the truth. Some reporters even speculated that if Brubaker was as intimately involved as it appeared, he also had to be responsible for having all the evidence associated with the FSA program destroyed. And if that were true, it was also plausible that he had sanctioned, or knew who sanctioned, the murders of Dr. Isabella Cardosa and the other scientists in the program.
With Brubaker exposed, buzz around the DaKira Papers and its authors was on the lips of every major network personality. This was the water cooler topic. The fact that Dr. Brubaker had been implicated as a possible originator of the conspiracy and the person likely responsible for the deaths of several known scientists, only made the anticipated release of the third paper more intriguing.
As Basil prepared to leave the Center for Biomedical Detection, he couldn’t help but think that his own personal nightmare would soon be over and he would finally be vindicated. He knew there was enough evidence to prove that AIDS was a diabolical plan and that he and his colleagues had discovered an antidote that would destroy the virus — a scientific discovery that would inevitably lead to a Nobel Prize. But what pleased him more was the fact that his research would no longer have to hide behind his “DaKira” pseudonym, a wish fulfillment long overdue.
As Basil headed down the steps of the Center, he thought he heard someone call out his name. At first, he paid no attention; after all, he was exhausted. He had spent the last week working overtime just to make sure everything would go as planned and he was finally done. Soon he would be home in his condo overlooking Lake Michigan, a place he had not seen much of since his return from the East Coast.
With the Hyde Park bus running even later than usual, Basil decided he would walk to 63rd Street and catch the train to Roosevelt, something he didn’t often do. But, whenever he did, he was reminded that he lived in one of the most segregated cities in America. There was no doubt that when he got on the Green Line on 63rd, the majority of the people riding would be Black. But, by the time he reached downtown, the demographics, like the scenery, would change.
But before he even left the campus, someone called his name again. “Dr. Rhodes, Dr. Rhodes! Over here! It’s me, David.”
“I hear you, David,” Basil said. “I just can’t see you. Where are you?”
“Over here to your left.”
Finally, Basil saw his old friend sitting in his taxi, leaning out the window.
“Hey, friend!” Basil said, walking in the direction of David’s voice. “This is perfect timing. I was heading home for the day. Did you just drop someone off? Is that why you’re here?”
“No, I had to see you,” David replied. “I have a message for you.”
“A message for me?” Basil said. “From whom and how did you know I would be here?”
“Your admirer told me,” David said.
“My admirer?” Basil said. “Who might that be?”
As Basil approached the cab, he saw movement in the backseat and then a long black object appearing. Realizing it was a silencer on a handgun, Basil looked quickly at David and then turned and started to run back toward the Center. As he ran, Basil felt hunted. But even more importantly, he was shocked that the person hunting him had been given refuge by the cabdriver he had once befriended.
The first shot missed, but Basil knew that if he didn’t get inside the building, he wouldn’t be so lucky the next time. He was right — the second shot hit his leg. By the time he fell to the ground, everybody nearby knew what was going on and acted accordingly. By now, people were screaming and running everywhere. The sound of sirens was getting louder, but from where Basil stood, they seemed far away. As had happened too many times before, a sniper was on a college campus and everybody knew it. Everyone was shouting and running for cover.
Despite the blood rolling down his pant leg, Basil managed to get up and start running again. As he did, he could see the campus police entering the grounds and then, one by one, fall. The hunter shot with precision and now the carnage was visual. Basil knew his pursuer was playing with him. This time, the hunter hit his shoulder and it was clear: whoever wanted him dead also wanted to enjoy the hunt.
As Basil pulled himself up again, the whistle of another shot was released, this time hitting his other shoulder. Soon, his other leg. Basil had been rendered helpless, wounded in every appendage. It was over and he knew it. The only thing left for him to do was surrender. He had watched Teddy pray every night and at times, he had thought that praying was like comfort food — it only worked for the moment. But, as Basil contemplated his own mortality, God and prayer were no longer foreign to him.
As the shooter approached Basil, now
lying helplessly on the cobblestone steps, it was eerily silent.
“You!” Basil said barely able to move. “So you’re responsible for stifling the truth and killing everybody who tries to tell the truth. Well, my truth won’t be stifled. You can kill me, but the world will know the truth.”
“Funny. That’s what they all said, Dr. Rhodes,” said the man. “As you can see, the truth still remains elusive. No one with the truth lives to tell it. So what good is the truth if you are dead?”
Basil began to laugh at the man who had seized the power to end his life. He knew the final paper had already been released. His only regret as he continued to laugh in the man’s face was that he couldn’t warn Teddy. He couldn’t tell her that the assailant standing over him … the man about to take his life … the hit man commissioned to stop the truth from being told and most likely, the man who had slit Isabella’s throat and killed Kennedy … was Eli Edelstein, Blake Jones’s business partner.
The death of Dr. Basil Rhodes hit the news like a viral infection, especially because he had personally notified the world press of his imminent death at the same time he was being attacked by his killer.
When Teddy and Basil had decided to doctor up the antidote papers to prevent their research from falling into the wrong hands, they had also agreed to make sure the DaKira Papers were protected, too. The two of them knew once the papers were released, whoever was after the antidote would stop at nothing to get it.
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