“Yes.” Smoothing his rumpled uniform, the colonel cast one last lingering glance at the vase before drifting his attention to her. “Posted mostly to the Middle East and Asia, from what I can gather.”
She had been posted there, not her husband. As part of an international team, she’d searched for biological and chemical weapons. Only later, she had been loaned out to the International Atomic Energy Agency to check for nuclear weapons programs. Her husband Jack had either been watching their son, or guarding her back. “Have you served in those regions?”
“Only in the trenches.” A smirk distorted his moon-pie face. “I couldn’t shake the sand out of my boots long enough to sight-see.”
Right, like she believed the doofus had ever seen combat. Those veterans wore that primal edge like a second skin. Still, she pasted on her smile and felt it settle into place. She hadn’t survived twenty years in the Weapons of Mass Destruction program to be rattled by a lying puke. With her foot, she kicked the chair out a little more than gestured to it with her head. “Desert Storm?”
“Among many others.”
Sure. She’d check his service record, later. Confirm that the man was a snake.
“Colonel Lynch.” The sergeant major came to attention. “The house is secure, Sir.”
The colonel gave a half-assed salute. Skirting the couch, he eyed the family photographs on the wall. He paused and straightened the picture of Sunnie. “And the girl?”
Mavis rubbed the goosebumps from her arms. Sweet Jesus! Her niece had been barely twelve in that picture. Sure she’d started to develop into a woman, but for him to look at her with a flicker of lust… Mavis cleared her throat. She’d have to talk to Miles if he’d made the Colonel her military liason. Her attention flicked to the sergeant major.
The enlisted man nodded slightly as if knowing she was thinking about him. “The girl is wearing headphones and typing on the computer.”
Like a typical teenager. Or so the tone implied. The sergeant major was a good man. Mavis would see that he served as her new liaison.
The colonel removed his hand from the portrait and wiped it on his slacks. “Stand in the hall, this is top secret information, and we can’t have a little kid eavesdropping. She’d probably post it on Facebook, and then there’d be hell to pay.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Post the fact that the Rattling Death might be back? Surely, she couldn’t have heard right. They wouldn’t keep such knowledge to themselves. Had they learned nothing? Bracing her hands on the table, Mavis rose in her seat. “Why would posting a possible outbreak on Facebook be a problem? I can have a press release ready to go in hours.”
Colonel Lynch grabbed the proffered chair, turned it around and straddled it. The smirk nearly swallowed his beady eyes. “The President himself has decided it is in our national interest to suppress the information.”
“Our national interest?” Her knees buckled and her butt hit the chair with a thwack. Unbelievable! Could those idiots in Washington really be such blockheads? “We’ve lost one-hundred-five million people already. If this outbreak is just half as deadly, then more than half of our citizens will die. By reinstating the public gathering ban, we can save lives.”
Shrugging, Colonel Lynch wet his fingers and rubbed at the red stain on his slacks. “Our economy can’t sustain another hit. Already, thousands of companies are teetering on the verge of bankruptcy, and Congress is considering bailing them out. We can’t have a panic and risk weakening the dollar further.”
“I’m talking lives and you’re spouting economics.” Mavis rubbed her face with her palms. Her skin felt hot to the touch, but she boxed up her anger. She would not lose her temper. She would not give the jerkwad the satisfaction. “The American people have a right to know.”
“May I remind you that America is under martial law, Doctor?” He waved his hairy knuckled hand in the air as if the Bill of Rights were a gnat to be swatted. “Breaking your oath is a treasonous offense, punishable by death.”
Son of a bitch! Mavis clutched the bottom of her chair to keep from launching off the seat. “I am well aware of my oath, Colonel Lynch.” To her country and to the Constitution. Nowhere had there been any mention of corporate profits and capitalism at any cost. Nowhere. Still, she was smart enough to recognize the power that came with money.
And a uniform. Especially these days.
Leaning forward in her chair, she looked him in the eye. “Neither the government’s nor the military’s authority is absolute.”
“Is that a threat, Doctor?” His lips curled at the edges.
God, could the man be any denser? “It’s a prophecy, Colonel. People are going to see their loved ones die from the Rattling Death while the government remains mum. There will be panic in the streets. The American people will turn on the soldiers—your men.” As if the man cared about anyone but himself. “Just as they did in Seattle.”
The name fell like a hand grenade between them—the Fort Sumter of the new millennium. Americans had risen like a giant from a coma. They’d stormed bunkers holding politicians and the rich safe from the infection. They’d overrun ships and submarines taking control and obliterating the strongholds barred to them. The city had literally burned to the ground. Thousands dead, everyone homeless.
And all because a medical supply ship had been delayed due to a storm.
An accident.
If the people learned the government deliberately kept silent…
“Seattle was the Navy’s mistake.”
God, he was such an idiot! Mavis smacked her forehead. What kind of angel protection racket did stupid people have that allowed them to survive?
“But that is academic at the moment, Doctor.” He paused as if he’d made a great joke with his word play. “No one in the U.S. has died since the last case nearly two months ago.”
“Eight weeks, Colonel.” Long enough for a virus to mutate.
He tugged on the face mask hanging around his neck. “So far the cases have been contained in Asia, and the government wants to keep it that way.”
Like that was possible. Heaven help anyone on that task force. “What does the government want me to do?”
Setting the metal briefcase on the ground, Colonel Lynch leaned back in his chair, laced his fingers behind his head, and rested his left ankle on his right knee. “If you’ll pack your things, I’ll let Surgeon General Arnez explain everything.”
Mavis blinked. Miles Arnez knew her better than to think she’d leave her house. That’s why he’d sent the silver case. Her silver case. “Excuse me?”
“Of course.” The colonel nodded dismissively and his attention wandered back to the fake Ming vase. “I’ll just wait here while you pack. Let the sergeant major know if you need anything.”
She released her chair and shook the feeling into her fingers. “No, Colonel. You’ve misunderstood me.” Not for the first time, and unlikely the last either. “I am not leaving.”
“Mrs. Spanner—”
“Doctor Spanner.”
“Doctor,” Colonel Lynch lowered his arms. “The government requires we get you to Gamma Base to begin your work.”
She pushed out of her chair. The wooden legs scraped the tile as it moved backward. “Bologna!”
One end of his unibrow formed a hook over his beady eyes. “Excuse me?”
Officious ass! Anger flamed through her body, and she jerked her hands away from the table least it start smoking. Did he really think she’d been intimidated by a cocked eyebrow? She’d faced down jack-booted thugs with machine guns, wide-eyed rebels with machetes, and religious fanatics with stones.
“I am not accompanying you anywhere, Colonel.” She set her hands on her hips. To steady the trembling vibrating through her, she dug her fingers into her soft belly. “That case you’re caressing is an encrypted computer with biomatrix protection. I believe it is meant for me.” She thumped on her chest, felt the thud down to her toes. “Arnez knows I only work from my house.”
“I have my orders, Doctor.” He shifted his feet until they pinched the briefcases. “And they clearly state that I am to evac you to Gamma Base.”
And pigs pooped silk! She’d bet her entire life savings, the jerkwad wanted the computer for his personal use. No doubt the puke would sell the information it contained or use it to save his worthless hide. Mavis crossed her arms and glared down at him. “Let me see your orders, Colonel.”
He crossed his arms and thrust his jaw forward. “I don’t have them on me, Doctor.”
Because, they didn’t order her to accompany him. “Then I’m not leaving.”
“Are you refusing to follow a direct order?” He rose from his seat; his hand fell to his side. Fortunately, he hadn’t worn his side arm.
Not that a gun would have changed her mind. With the crisis over, her connection to the Surgeon General was more powerful than his gun and, if he pissed her off, more detrimental to his career. “You are not my superior officer, Colonel. So unless you can provide those orders, I am not under any obligation to do as you say.”
His face flushed an unflattering shade of red. “Sergeant Major!”
The soldier rounded the corner, before the great room stopped ringing with the colonel’s bellow. “Sir!”
“Pack a bag for Mrs. Spanner. She will be returning to base with us.”
The soldier looked from his CO to her then back again. His lips compressed and color glowed on his cheeks.
So he was on her side. Good to know, but it would be career suicide for him to disobey a direct order. Mavis nodded once. He should obey his CO, at least until other orders came from a higher authority. Keeping the colonel in her sight, she sidled toward the cordless phone.
“Did I stutter, Sergeant Major?” Colonel Lynch’s face contorted—slitted eyes, white-rimmed mouth, and florid complexion.
“No, Sir.” The soldier’s expression drained of all emotion. “Where might I find such a bag?”
“Use a garbage bag for all I care.” The CO stamped his foot.
Mavis picked up the phone. Her fingers were steady as she speed-dialed Miles Arnez, the Surgeon General. The computer generated voice asked how it could direct her call. She punched in the extension of her former boss, then her access code to his private line. The phone rang once, then twice.
Colonel Lynch scooped up the computer case and clutched it to his chest. “Calling 9-1-1 won’t help you, doctor. I’m the authority in Phoenix.”
But not absolute authority. The military reported to a civilian leader, and, thanks to an executive order, that person was the Surgeon General. Behind her, cabinet drawers opened and closed as the sergeant major looked for the required bag. Mavis focused on the ringing. Three. Come on, Miles. Pick up the phone. A click sounded after the fourth ring. She better not get voicemail.
“Mavis?” Miles Arnez sighed into the phone. Amusement and exasperation added dimension to his gravelly voice. “Why are you calling? Isn’t the laptop working?”
Gotcha! Mavis grinned at the lying puke. Your ass is so toasted. Miles hated petty tyrants almost as much as she did. He’d shot the last one point-blank and had to leave the WMD program. Nice to know he’d landed on his feet. And that he hadn’t forgotten her. “Colonel Lynch refuses to give me the computer, Miles. He says he’ll shoot me, unless I accompany him to Gamma Base.”
“I did not.” The officer clutched the laptop tighter. Hatred blazed in his eyes.
She matched his wrath. He would have drawn on her, if he’d been wearing a side arm like regulations required. And, she had no doubt that he would have shot her by now. But she lived her life in facts and probabilities, not what if fairytales. Still, she’d made an enemy, but it would have happened sooner or later. She had morals to guide her and he used his greed and penis as a compass.
Miles chuckled then cleared his throat. “Put me on speaker.”
“Certainly.” Mavis set the phone on the counter and pressed the speaker button on the headset. “Ready when you are, Sir.”
Nothing wrong with buttering up the boss. She clasped her hands behind her back. Besides the Surgeon General had earned her respect.
“Colonel Lynch,” Miles’s bark sounded tinny, “just what were your instructions regarding Dr. Spanner?”
“We were to secure the target and escort her to Gamma Base.” The officer lurched forward, toward the phone.
She moved it out of his reach, so he couldn’t pick it up and receive his dressing down privately. The drawers had stopped opening and closing. Either the sergeant major had found her supply of kitchen garbage bags, or he was listening to the rebuke. She’d bet the latter.
“Funny, Colonel,” Miles drawled. Lynch swayed to the softness of the Surgeon General’s voice. Mavis bit her lip. Her friend hadn’t lost that snake charmer tone. “You know, I’m reading your orders now and they said to confirm Dr. Spanner’s identity then hand over the laptop. You do still have the laptop, don’t you?”
Lynch’s left eye twitched. Strangling the handle, he looked at her neck before dropping the case to his side. For a moment, she thought he’d lie. “Yes, Sir.”
“Good.” Still using his snake charmer’s voice, Miles spoke softly. “Now, have you confirmed Doctor Spanner’s identity?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m going to make this very simple, Colonel. Hand the laptop to the good doctor.” Steel girded Miles’s order.
Like a robot, the officer raised the laptop in her direction.
Shaking her head, Mavis popped open the lid of Clorox wipes and tugged two out. “Just put it on the table.”
Metal scraped wood as he dropped it onto the teak dining room table.
Schooling her features not to smile, she strode across the room and swiped the cloths over the case. She really should behave. Really, but the lying puke deserved a comeuppance. “You’re a brave man to touch the case, Colonel.”
His eyes narrowed.
She dragged the wipe over the square black fingerprint readers near the combination lock. One day, she’d be punished for what she was about to do. Then again, maybe not. Either way, she’d sleep soundly tonight.
“This just came from US Army Medical Research Institute of Infectious Diseases.” She sucked on her bottom lip. Partly in fear. Sweet Jesus, if the LCD reader couldn’t read her fingerprints, the C4 lining the case would be tripped. “God knows, AMRIID deals with the really nasty bugs. And they love to hitchhike on metal.”
Colonel Lynch dashed for the kitchen sink and slapped on the tap. “Son of a bitch!”
He pumped a pile of soap into his palm and began scrubbing his hands under the steaming water.
Behind him, the sergeant major’s shoulders shook and his face turned bright red.
Mavis turned her back on them so neither could see her smile. Serves you right, you prick.
Coughing came out the speaker before Miles cleared his throat. “You’re such a pain in the ass, Mavis. When will you learn to play nicely with others?”
She finished cleaning the case, crumpled up the wipe and chucked it into the basket. “I’ll put it on my bucket list.”
“Christ, Mavis.” Miles growled. “If what we’re seeing is any indication, you might have to enroll in finishing school tomorrow.”
Her heart mule-kicked in her chest and her mouth went dry. She pressed her thumbs to the LCD readers before spinning the lock to her numbered code. “That bad?”
“Seventy percent mortality. Seventy.” Miles hissed. “But we’re not sure if it’s just the disease or a culmination of unsanitary conditions, tainted water, lack of food and no medicine.”
The case’s locks popped like a shot. Hooking her ankle around a chair leg, she dragged it closer and collapsed onto it. “Seventy percent? Are you sure?”
There had to be a mistake. There had to be. Blocking out the soldiers, she lifted the lid.
“No, that’s where you come in.” She could almost see him chewing on the earpiece of his reading glasses. “Run
the numbers with your modeling program.”
After removing the solar cells and satellite hook-up, she powered up the computer then drummed her fingers on the table. Why did the blasted thing have to take so long? “Is the most recent data on the hard drive?”
“No, but it’s on its way by military courier.” A chair creaked over the phone. “ETA is midnight, local time.”
Courier? She leaned forward and stared in the camera lens dead center of the laptop’s screen. She forced her eye to remain open as the green beam scanned her iris. The light snapped off and time ticked down as the computer calculated the patterns and compared them to her identification pattern. “Why use a courier? Why not just email me the updates?”
“The damned Chinese have hacked the Pentagon’s computers again. Most systems are off-line so they don’t know that our eyes in the sky are monitoring them and their burning fields.” Miles chuffed. “Everything will be couriered to you just like in Iran.”
Mavis fingered the ridge of scar tissue running under her jaw. She hoped this assignment turned out better than the Iranian one had. The Windows icon fluttered across the screen before disappearing. From the corner of her eye, she watched the officer. No way would she let the malevolent Kewpie doll get his grubby mitts on her data. “Who will deliver it? Colonel Lynch’s duties are too important for him to act as a courier every day.”
Miles grunted. “Colonel, who is your driver?”
The officer’s jaw worked as if he’d been chewing on a large beetle. “Sergeant Major David Dawson, sir.”
“Well, Sergeant Major David Dawson, you’ve just been drafted as Dr. Spanner’s personal courier.”
Mavis nodded at the soldier. David Dawson. It was a good name, strong and true.
“Now see here.” Colonel Lynch glared at the phone. “We’re still disposing of bodies and…”
“You’ll have the Sergeant Major’s new orders by the time you return to base, Colonel.” Miles bit off, his irritation snapped through the line. “Dawson, you and only you are to touch that package. Keeping that information flowing may be the most important duty you’ll ever have.”
Redaction: Extinction Level Event (Part I) Page 8
