Fatal Serum

by Sam Black

  I tried to get up once again, but felt too dizzy. Shaking my head didn’t help, so I laid back down on the hard bed without any pillow. I felt cold and began to shake feverishly. My teeth chattered. I passed out.

  I awoke again and felt like, maybe, I was normal. I sat up and swung my feet onto the floor and screamed, “Jennifer, where are you?” I still didn’t hear my voice. I waited for a response, but none came, so I got up and moved slowly, holding my arms out in front of me until my fingers touched a wall. Possibly, a wall of rough cement, but not sure. I turned right and moved slowly, until my fingers touched another wall. I found the corner and traced along the other wall with my fingers, stopping at an indentation. It was a door, a steel door without a handle or knob. “JENNIFER” I shouted at the door. I pounded on the door and screamed, or I thought I had screamed. I know I had pounded because my hand hurt. I moved further along the wall until I came to another corner. It was all uneven cement. I moved further until I ran into the bed, a single bunk. I ran my fingers everywhere on the wall until I came to another wall. I continued running my fingers on this wall, until I found an opening. It was a small opening about six inches square. I stuck my arm into the hole and felt air flowing. I took some deep breaths before I screamed at the top of my lungs, “HELP! HELP!” I still couldn’t hear my voice.

  I located the bed, sat down and began to pray. I prayed like I had never prayed before. I waited for an instant reply from God. Nothing happened. I began to cry hysterically, or at least I thought I cried, but I didn’t hear any sound. I became sleepy, lying down on the hard cot. My eyes shut without me closing them. I was asleep, I guess.

  Chapter 45

  A PRAYER IS ANSWERED

  I awakened to a noise of metal against metal. “I can hear!” I whispered. Someone tried to open my door. Startled, I quickly flung my feet off the bed and walked toward the door. As I reached the door, it flew open, sending a bright beam of light into my room, blinding me. “I can see. I’m not blind.” I whispered. I tried opening my eyes again, shading them with my left hand, leaving my right hand ready for defense, if needed.

  A man’s gruff voice rebounded off the walls into my brain telling me he spoke English, but with an accent. “Here is your breakfast.” He handed me a small, tin tray with a tin bowl of cooked rice, without any spoon. He appeared to be an average-sized man.

  “Where am I? Where is Jennifer? I want to talk to an attorney.” The door slammed shut before I got the last word out of my mouth. I walked slowly back to my bed in the dark and sat down. I smelled the rice and ate some by dishing it out with my fingers. Realizing the rice was cold made things even worse. I ate it, but needed water.

  I laid on my bed thinking, until the noise came again at the door. It seemed like hours had passed, but it was probably only an hour or so. I jumped up quickly, or as quickly as I could, without having had any water and a minimal amount of food. A man flung open the door. Only this time, he grabbed my left arm with a strong grip and led me out of my dungeon. My eyes tried to adjust to the glare of sunlight. We made it to the outside, the air being a whole lot better than it had been inside my cement room. I stumbled beside the man who walked at a fast pace. Sand and rock were everywhere. There were a few small buildings and other objects, like tents, scattered around. It looked like large mountains off in a distance, but the sun’s glare blinded my vision. The temperature was cool.

  We entered a building a couple of city blocks from where I had been held. I looked around to try and spot anything familiar. Nothing did, but I now believed I was in a foreign country, definitely not New Zealand.

  Chapter 46

  MEETING WITH THE ENEMY

  Having been shoved down in a wooden chair about ten feet inside the entrance of a small building, I saw Arabic writing on the wall. At least, I thought it to be Arabic writing. I shook my head in disbelief. Was I ever in New Zealand with Jennifer? Was I captured by State Troopers in Illinois, or were they just disguised as Illinois State Patrolmen? The New Zealand part was a dream, a dream which never happened. So confused, I wanted to scream. “Jennifer” I whispered with my eyes closed. Before I opened them, another man, with darker skin than mine, led me briskly down the hall to another room. The door opened and then closed after we entered. In front of me sat four men behind a large wooden table, all dressed in some kind of military clothing. There were three men with machine guns, with one man standing on each side of the table and another one by the left wall.

  “Mr. Sam Abbott, come in and have a seat. We need to talk to you,” the oldest of the four said. He spoke very good English. He probably had received his education in a US College. After being slammed down hard by my escort, I sat there in my red jump suit, with no shoes on my feet.

  “What is going on? Where am I? I want a pair of shoes.” My eyes switched from one man to the other three, waiting for answers. They all stared back at me with half-smiles. They were all Arabs, I thought. The word, “terrorist,” lay in my mouth, along with Taliban and Al-Queda.

  “Mr. Abbott, you were kidnapped in Illinois by the Russians. Then, you were captured by us.” They all laughed at me.

  “Who are you? What did you do with my wife?”

  “Shut up, Mr. Abbott. You speak when we ask you to speak.”

  “Did your government kill all of my employees and my wife?” I asked, with pain in my heart.

  “Shut up, Mr. Abbott.” The same man spoke again.

  Another Arab man spoke, with a smile, “Your CIA killed all your employees and your wife and tried to kill you, but you were very lucky. The gas they used kills everyone but the smallest number of the population. You will, however, become sick and have tremendous headaches from your exposure. You will have nightmares, with sweats. They will come and go. Eventually, they will go away for good, but this will take weeks. You are very lucky to be alive.”

  “Why did the CIA kill my employees and my wife?” I trembled.

  “Mr. Abbott, GREED is a very big word in your country and has gotten your government and most of its people in a great deal of trouble. Once your news media finds out members of the CIA did the killing, they will panic. The CIA acted on orders given by a prominent US Senator. Several of your largest drug companies’ executives were involved, along with a large law firm in New York City. They already have been captured by your FBI for the deaths of all your employees, including your brother and your wife. Your country will fold up like an accordion. Your stock market will collapse within a week; your banks will fail within a month; and your companies will fold before year’s end.” He chuckled as if he couldn’t wait to see the things he told me really happen.

  I couldn’t speak. I managed to get “water” out and was brought a cold glass of it. I gulped it down, not knowing what I was drinking, and asked for more, being very dehydrated. After the third glass of water, I spoke up. “Who’s behind all this? Who’s the main man?”

  “A very popular US Senator from the State of Mississippi, Senator Sterling Shear, is your money man and the brains behind the whole plan. He is worth millions and was paid a billion from three of your top drug companies to collapse your company.”

  “My God, why didn’t the drug companies just buy me out? Why kill all of them? My wife, Jennifer, didn’t have to die. They knocked all her teeth out and cut off her fingers and toes and dumped her in a lake.” I threw up the water I had just drunk.

  The liquid from my stomach was quickly removed from the floor by one of the Arabic men outside the door, who was summoned by one of the four who sat at the table. “Mr. Abbott, your serum is very important to us. It is worth billions to us.”

  “How did you learn about the CIA being involved? They have such tight security and everything is classified.”

  “We have informants everywhere—the same as your government, or the same as Russia. The Russians can’t keep their mouths shut when they’ve drunk too much vodka. The US can be bought. We, however, use a drug, a very intense truth serum, which gets us all the info we
need. We are the only people with such a powerful truth serum. We knew about the priest in Chicago and every move you made since you left your compound in Georgia. So did the Russians. We knew about the tunnels under your compound before your CIA did. We were going to take over your compound, ourselves, but let your CIA guys do it, which left us out of the picture. We captured one of the CIA guys and he told us everything. The truth serum really does work.” He chuckled and the others followed suit.

  “When did you take me away from the Russians?”

  “Ten miles down the road from where you were stopped. We saw the whole thing play out via a sophisticated satellite system only known to us.”

  “Who are you?”

  “Taliban”

  “What happened to Jo? Jo, the lady I was with in the Honda?” I wanted to use Cheryl’s fictitious name. My throat felt parched, again.

  “She is okay. She is not far from here. We will let her go as soon as we get the ransom for your serum.” He gave me a wide grin, showing stained teeth from cigarettes, I guessed.

  “What about my identification, credit card, driver’s license, and my clothes?”

  “We have all of it, but you won’t need it. We will give you new clothes and shoes after we receive the money for your serum.” Smiling, he showed his stained teeth, again.

  “I want to see Jo.”

  “Not at this time, Mr. Abbott.

  “Who’s going to pay the ransom for me?”

  “I don’t know yet. We have several countries wanting you: Russia, China, the US, India, and even Iran is showing some interest.”

  “Where am I?”

  “We will tell you when your ransom is paid.” The four men rose and marched, single file, out of the room through a back door.

  Chapter 47

  FBI OFFICE—WASHINGTON D.C.

  Jim Kelly sat in his office staring out the window into the dark clouds, looking for answers to the directive he had been given by the President. He picked up the phone and called Jim Brewer’s office. The phone rang three times before Brewer picked up on his restricted cell phone. His caller ID alerted him as to who was calling. “Brewer here, what do you need Jim?”

  “Jim, I need to talk to you about what the President had to say today,” Kelly said, tapping his fingers on his desk.

  “You call it, Jim; name the place and the time and I will be there.”

  “We have a secure conference room over here. How about in two hours at my office.”

  “I’ll be there.” Brewer wanted to hang them all out to dry. Was it worth the risk of his kids not having the money to attend college? The risk of his wife, of after twenty five years, not being able to spend the money she was used to? The risk of being hung out to dry and, maybe, having trouble getting a job as a cop in a small city out in Wyoming?

  Chapter 48

  BREWER AND KELLY MEETING

  Brewer arrived ten minutes early; Jim was waiting for him. They both wanted justice. They went into the secured room on Pennsylvania Ave. and closed the door. Knowing they had the meat cleaver in their hands, it was now up to them to use it and bring Washington DC to its knees. They were aware of the corruption which ran rampant in DC and filtered into the States, cities and all the way down to the small towns in America. It had to stop: NOW.

  “Screw these bastards. They have to be tried and put away forever. We need to clean this filth up in Washington. This is only the beginning. I couldn’t sleep knowing what I know and this SOB Shear runs off to some sandy beach with a billion dollars. He has the President in the palm of his hands, along with many other crooked political leaders,” Kelly began. He stared at Brewer, hoping his response would be the same.

  “It makes me sick to think my own men were involved in this. I just found out an hour ago that Shear and his rotten son and his buddies in the CIA have been involved for many years in a drug trafficking scheme with the cartels in Columbia. Jim, it is a billion dollar business run by Shear and they have been running it right under my nose. They’re the same members of the CIA who attacked SAWWS Inc.”

  “I want to expose this to the media ASAP, Jim.” Kelly spoke firmly.

  “I’m with you 100%,” Brewer replied. A flash of his family’s needs traveled through his head like a hot air balloon.

  “I believe we need to break this to the Washington Post immediately,” Kelly said. “It’s okay by me. What about Abbott? Where’s Abbott and what happens to him?” Brewer asked.

  “The Russians captured him in Illinois, along with the lady who supposedly killed Woody Saunders down in Georgia. We are trying to locate them as we speak,” Kelly responded.

  “Are you kidding me? Abbott’s been running with Saunders’ killer?” Brewer stood.

  “The Russians wanted Abbott to give them SAWWS Inc.’s serum recipe. Abbott’s been running with the Saunders killer since he left Georgia. We believe he picked her up along the way. We can’t find any association between them prior to Abbott’s disappearance. We have positive proof Saunders’ car sat in the massage lady’s driveway. The car had been removed by a tow truck, but his body lay in her house, which doesn’t make any sense. Why not leave both car and body, or remove both? She might have killed him in self defense. Her customers have testified he had stalked her in the past.”

  “How did the Russians know of Abbott’s whereabouts when they captured him in Illinois?”

  “Informants, we think, but we aren’t sure yet. It is also possible they used satellites to track him.”

  “How did you know the Russians captured Abbott and the lady who supposedly killed Saunders?”

  “We used Russian informants.”

  “Woody Saunders’ case is out of my responsibility, but I sure will try and help you find closure.”

  Kelly dialed Harold Reynolds, an old friend from college, at his office at the Washington Post. Kelly had always promised Reynolds a worthy topic, but never could due to security issues. Not this time. They had proof.

  Reynolds walked into FBI headquarters within half an hour. Reynolds happened to be in the proximity, but dropped what he’d been working on and came directly to see his old friend.

  Kelly’s cell phone rang right after Reynolds sat down with them. “This is Jim Kelly” The pain on Kelly’s face grew seconds after he spoke. Kelly set his phone down slowly, staring at the table top. The Taliban has Abbott and wants twenty billion for him in cash. China and Russia will match it, but the Taliban wants China and Russia out of the picture. Without the serum, Russia and China will collapse from two life-threatening disease epidemics. SAWWS Inc.’s serum would prevent the deaths from these two diseases.”

  “Wow!” Reynolds said, writing on his note pad.

  “Can our government raise this kind of money?” Brewer asked, knowing the US never pays ransom.

  “Don’t print this in the Post, Harold.”

  “I won’t print it. Just let me know what, where, and when on Abbott.”

  “I will, Harold.”

  Kelly and Brewer turned over all the information they had on SAWWS Inc. to Reynolds, to be printed by the Post. Reynolds promised not to publish anything without Brewer and Kelly reviewing it beforehand.

  Chapter 49

  BREAKING NEWS

  The Washington Post broke the story, leaving out the ransom information, in the Thursday morning early edition. The President was informed about the story five minutes after he had sat down at his desk in the oval office; the time, 8:18 am. His press secretary, a guy in his late thirties named Wesley Roberts, spit out the words in a trembling voice, as he clutched the Washington Post tightly in his right hand. He waved the paper as he spoke. Roberts paused to catch his breath. He waited less than five seconds before the President, with eyes peering like an owl seeking its prey, tried to speak. His lips moved, but no sound came out of his mouth.

  Finally, the President spoke. “Wha-what the hell happened? How did this get out to the damn media?” The President’s face turned red; he jumped out of his chair, searchi
ng for an answer as to who had leaked this info.

  “Sir, Mr. President.” The President turned quickly and stared at his press secretary. “Kelly and Brewer informed Reynolds at the Post. They told him everything, naming names, including who were arrested. They indicated the investigation of many more political leaders, including you, Mr. President, will begin immediately.” His voice trailed off on the last words, as his eyes fell to the floor.

  The President stared at Roberts with rage building throughout his whole body. “Kelly and Brewer are finished. Those SOBs shouldn’t have done this. WHY? I told them this could not be leaked to the damn press.” Thoughts of past sexual encounters buzzed through his head one last time. The President moved slowly and fell into his chair. He now looked pale, turning from red-faced to ashen-faced. “I don’t feel good. That bastard Shear!” These were to be the last words spoken by the President. The President clutched his chest and died instantly in the same chair where, previously, Brandi had serviced him on numerous occasions. The President never read a word of the Post article.

  Wesley Roberts panicked and screamed, “HELP! HELP!” Within seconds, three members of the President’s secret service, who were positioned outside the oval office, arrived on the scene. McMullen, the senior agent, asked, “What’s the matter with the President?”

  “He just collapsed. He clutched his chest. Oh, My God!” Roberts said, placing his hand over his mouth. Roberts stood paralyzed as he watched the secret service men tend to the President.

  Agent Jenkins administered CPR immediately, with no response. Olson, the third secret service agent, called dispatch to have the President rushed to Walter Reed Hospital.