Cold Plague

by Daniel Kalla

  “If not for us, then at least for all those people who still might be poisoned by these scum,” he said. “We have to get the word out, Maman.”

  “I know,” Avril said as the tears spilled down her own cheeks again. Despite their grim outlook, she was so happy to have found her son again. And she had never been more proud of him.

  50

  Champsac, France. January 21

  By the time Noah, Duncan, and Elise left Pierre Anou’s home, the dull cloud cover had disappeared in the rapidly fading twilight. The blizzard had let up, but with the break in the snowfall the temperature had plummeted. Noah shivered from more than just the cutting cold as he slipped into the passenger seat of Elise’s car. He stared at his cell phone, which still did not offer a single bar of reception. Before leaving he had tried to call out on Anou’s landline, only to discover it too had been knocked out by the storm. “Damn it!” he muttered under his breath.

  “Bottled bloody water?” Duncan grumbled from the seat behind his. “That’s what humans and cows are dying for?”

  “It is a huge industry,” Elise pointed out, as she pulled back onto the road, its smooth snow blanket cut by only one other set of partially covered tire tracks.

  Noah nodded. “They must have put a fortune into piping that water out of Lake Vishnov.”

  “Who are they?” Elise asked.

  “People who stand to make a killing off the Vishnov water,” Noah said. “We’d better find out who owns the rights to the Lake.”

  “That shouldn’t be too difficult,” Elise said.

  “Be easier if a single fucking phone worked in this country!” Duncan thumped Noah’s headrest.

  Elise looked over to Noah, her face tight with worry. “What about Georges’s glacier sample that contained the prion? That was supposed to have come from the Arctic, not the Antarctic. Could it have been mislabeled?”

  Noah shook his head. “It must have been a fake.”

  “A fake?” Duncan’s voice squeaked. “Staging a mad cow outbreak to cover your tracks makes some demented sense. But what the hell is the point of blaming a cold plague on ice from the Arctic instead of water from the Antarctic?”

  Noah glanced over his shoulder at Duncan. “No one is trying to sell ice from the Arctic.”

  Duncan’s eyes lit with understanding. “Shite,” he murmured. “If Georges Manet, or whoever, knew that we’d stumbled onto his trail, he would look for any plausible way to throw us off, wouldn’t he?”

  Noah sighed. “They probably hoped that the sample would be enough to send us scouring the Canadian Arctic, while they got rich selling water from Vishnov.”

  “But how do you fake a prion-infected glacier?” Elise asked.

  “If it were me,” Noah said, “I would drill holes in the ice, fill them with the contaminated water, and then refreeze.”

  “Wouldn’t they see that in the lab, though?” Elise asked.

  “That hunk of death was tested for organisms in a microbiology lab,” Duncan said. “If it showed up at my lab I couldn’t tell you if it came from the North Pole, the South Pole, or straight out of your bloody gin and tonic!”

  “Duncan’s right,” Noah said. “And someone like Georges Manet could probably doctor the ice to fool even the experts.”

  “We have no proof Georges is still alive,” Elise pointed out.

  “I can think of several million—probably a hundred million—reasons why the bugger might have staged his own death,” Duncan said.

  “No doubt,” Noah said.

  “Christ, they’re going to ship Vishnov’s tainted water all over the world, aren’t they? Haldane, next time we’re in India or Thailand, remind me to take my chances with the tap water,” Duncan quipped, but his tone belied his obvious tension.

  Noah had a vivid mental image of the video footage he had seen of Giselle Tremblay and Philippe Manet. He bristled at the idea of facing countless other slobbering zombielike victims of this prion. “We cannot let the Lake get to the store shelves,” he said, more to himself than to the others.

  Duncan held up his cell phone and shook his head. “Still nothing. Shite!”

  Elise viewed Noah out of the corner of her eye. “Who exactly should we tell? No one local, I trust.”

  “Jean, for starters,” Noah said.

  She nodded. “And I need to tell Javier.”

  “Are you sure you can trust him or the others at the E.U.?”

  She paused a moment. “No,” she admitted. “Do you not have doubts about the people at the WHO?”

  “I have no doubt about Jean.” Noah held her gaze. “Beyond that, I really don’t know whom to trust anymore.”

  The creases in her forehead deepened, but Elise did not otherwise respond to the implied accusation in his tone.

  “I keep thinking about that elegant woman Yvette Pereau saw leaving her barn,” Noah went on. “My gut tells me we’ve already met her.”

  “Sylvie Manet, perhaps?” Elise said. “After all, she gave us the misleading ice sample. And who is more likely to have known what her brother was up to?”

  “One—possibly both—of her brothers died of the wee monster,” Duncan said. “Hard to imagine she could be involved in that.”

  Noah nodded. “Geneviève Allaire would know her way around a barn better than Sylvie.”

  “True,” Elise said.

  Noah could no longer contain his gnawing suspicions. “Elise, if they engineered that ice sample to throw us off their trail, then they must have known we were getting close.”

  Elise’s shoulders rose and dipped. “I imagine Detective Avars told them. We know she’s been lying to us.”

  Noah gritted his teeth. “So how did we ever end up dealing with the one cop who is neck deep in all of this?”

  “How do you know she’s the only corrupt officer?” Elise said. “Maybe her boss is involved, too.”

  “Or maybe she knew we were coming,” Noah said.

  Elise’s head spun to face Noah. Her lip curled. “And you think I am the one telling them?” she said barely above a whisper.

  “I know that you can look very elegant.”

  Her lip trembled. “You bastard,” she growled and then turned her gaze back to the road.

  “I am sorry, Elise.” His tone had softened, but he didn’t change tacks. “It’s just that they always seem to know where we are and what we’re up to.”

  Before Elise could respond, Duncan leaned forward and tapped them on the shoulder. “Like now!” he said, and pointed urgently at the back window.

  Noah and Elise turned in unison to see a pair of xenon headlights bearing down on them. “Move it!” he barked.

  Elise punched the accelerator and the tires spun. The engine whined. She eased off, and the tires bit into the snow and launched the BMW along the white highway. Gripping the armrest, Noah watched over his shoulder as the trailing car gained on them.

  Elise sped into the upcoming bend in the road. The car drifted to the right, but made the corner. Noah squeezed the armrest even tighter. Though Elise was an able chauffeur, he had no idea whether she could outrace someone on a dark snowy highway. Nor was he totally convinced that she even wanted to. But he was only a passenger now, and that sudden helplessness bothered him more than the inherent danger.

  As soon as the front end of the car straightened, Elise floored the gas pedal. The engine hummed louder. The power poles passed with steadily increasing frequency. They raced up a long hill toward a curve in the highway. Heart in his throat, Noah recalled their ride on their way to Anou’s house through the same snaking section of canyon road. The route had rocks on one side and steep drop-offs on the other. “Elise, the canyon ahead—”

  “I know,” she said with surprising calm.

  Elise eased off the accelerator only slightly as she entered the winding section. With disregard for the possibility of traffic coming from the other direction, she slid and zigzagged the car across the road. As if glued to their tail, the xenon lights stuck
close behind, disappearing only for moments around the sharpest turns.

  Elise slowed to round a curve, but the car still drifted into the inner lane. Noah felt a bump and then his door touched the rock wall with a grating metal kiss before slipping free. The car slid to the left, and for a breathless moment Noah wondered if they were going to plummet into the canyon. As they neared the edge, the tires caught and Elise managed to pull out of the slide.

  “Too close!” Duncan said hoarsely.

  The mistake cost Elise speed, and the bluish high beams flooded through the rear window. Elise punched the gas pedal again, and the engine whined in response. But before they gained much speed they were rammed from behind. Noah’s head was jolted forward and his upper and lower teeth bit hard against each other.

  The car drifted again toward the rocks. “Merde!” Elise whispered as she fought the steering wheel to straighten out without overcorrecting.

  Noah suddenly saw the dark side of the hill close up again. He shrank away from the window, expecting an impact, but just before his door reached it, Elise pulled free of the drift and steered the car back to the center of the road.

  The high beams still flooded the interior and the vehicle slammed into them again. The impact propelled the car forward. Noah looked ahead in horror to see a tight curve approaching and realized they were heading for the drop-off. Out of reflex he braced his hand against the dashboard.

  Elise turned hard on the steering wheel and the car fishtailed. Just before they reached the edge of the cliff, she steered into the turn and somehow the BMW stuck to the road.

  “No more,” Elise vowed aloud, gripping the steering wheel as though she were trying to rip it free of the dashboard. Though the bright lights were bearing down again, Elise managed to weave the car slightly from side to side, making it a more elusive target. But each time she dodged to the right or left, the car came precariously close to the road’s edge—rock on one side, drop-off on the other. Temples drumming, Noah realized that they would die instantly if another car happened to materialize coming from the opposite direction.

  Elise accelerated steadily as they left the canyon and the highway’s curves began to level out. She drove with renewed recklessness, and the car flew down the snowy road. Despite the speed, she put little distance between their car and the blue lights.

  Noah looked over his shoulder to see the xenon lights sliding to their left and realized the other car was going to try to run them off the road from the inside lane. Elise noticed, too. She turned the steering wheel. The car glided to the left, cutting off the path. Undeterred, the pursuing car aimed for the right side. Their BMW skated across to block that maneuver. For the next five hundred meters, the trailing car competed for an inside track as if the two vehicles were locked in some kind of nightmarish snowbound Formula One race, but Elise managed to protect her flanks.

  Blocking another advance, Elise wove to her right. Noah could see that she went too far, even before the other car slipped in alongside her. She reacted immediately. Leaning into her turn, she yanked the steering wheel and the car cut wildly to the left.

  The back left fender of their car ground against the front right fender of the other for a long moment. Elise let go of the accelerator as the BMW swerved wildly. The back end fishtailed and the car slid off the edge of the road with a hard bump. Noah lifted out of his seat before the seat belt yanked him back down.

  The car finally came to a stop in a farmer’s field. He looked over to the others. “Everyone okay?”

  “Better than that son of a bitch!” Duncan thumbed at the rear window.

  Noah saw that the blue headlights of the car were much further behind them and pointed off in another direction. It took a moment to grasp that the car was lying on its side.

  Elise did not say a word. She pressed down on the pedal and the car’s engine groaned in response, but then began cutting through the thick snow toward the road. With another heavy bump, they climbed back on the highway and raced away from the upended car behind them.

  “I’ll say this, the French just aren’t as welcoming as they used to be.” Duncan chuckled as he reached forward and patted Elise on the shoulder. “Not bad, Mlle. Renard. Not bad at all.”

  Noah looked down at the cell phone that he had been squeezing as though his life depended on it. He saw two signal bars. “Hey!” he said, elated. “My phone has reception again.”

  As Elise headed into the next turn, Noah pressed the speed-dial button on his phone and the list popped up on the screen. He reached for the DIAL button, but he froze in the sudden shower of light.

  The high beams coming directly for them were less blue than the previous set but blindingly intense. Elise slammed on the brakes, but the car skidded violently. Noah dropped his phone at the same moment that the car slid into a full tailspin. As if caught in a tornado, Noah felt himself being hurled around inside the car. His ear slammed against the window, and he heard a pop followed by a louder smash. Then there was a shower of glass.

  Finally, the car came to a stop perched with its front end dangling off the side of the road. Covered with glass and with his right ear ringing, Noah glanced over to Elise and then Duncan. Both appeared stunned. For a moment, he thought Duncan must be in shock. His friend stared right past him with jaw hanging open. Then Noah looked out the broken window and saw the woman standing beside the car.

  Her gun was pointing directly at his chest.

  51

  Lac Noir, France. January 21

  Wrestling with the padded restraint around her wrists, Avril began to feel a little movement and realized that she had worked more of her left palm through the binding. Encouraged, she wriggled harder, oblivious to the pins and needles from the diminished blood flow.

  Suddenly, the cellar door scraped loudly against the stone floor. Avril stopped moving. She watched as three more hooded people were shoved roughly into the room. Behind the big Russian pushing them, she caught a glimpse of Simon Valmont where he stood in the hallway with a lit cigarette dangling from his lips. He held her gaze for a fraction of a second and then turned away.

  The Russian yanked the hoods off the new prisoners and then stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Before the masks even came off, Avril recognized Noah Haldane and his two colleagues. With their hands also tied behind their backs, all three squinted in the poor light trying to gain their bearings. As Noah’s eyes fell on Avril, his face flushed with accusation. But his scowl smoothed as the implication of the scene began to register.

  “Please accept my apology, Dr. Haldane,” Avril said, as she rose awkwardly to her feet. “I should have warned you somehow.”

  Frédéric’s head swiveled to look up at her, bewildered.

  “My son, Frédéric,” she said to Noah.

  Noah nodded slowly. “They were blackmailing you?”

  “Yes.”

  “How could you have risked telling us?” Noah said sympathetically.

  Avril took small comfort from his understanding tone. She looked down at her son. “Frédéric, these are Ms. Renard, Dr. McLeod, and Dr. Haldane.” Then she switched to French even though her son spoke English. “They are the international investigators.”

  Frédéric mustered a smile of greeting and his swollen lip cracked in the center.

  Duncan kneeled forward to study Frédéric’s beaten face with concern. “Are you all right, son?” he asked.

  “They’re just bruises.” Frédéric struggled to his feet, looking very wobbly once upright. Avril leaned closer, trying to support him with her shoulder.

  Duncan shook his head indignantly as he straightened. “Blackmailing a mother with her own son,” he muttered. “What a bunch our hosts must be.”

  Elise spoke up. “How long have you been here?”

  “Maybe two or three hours,” Avril said. “But Freddie has been here for days.”

  Frédéric nodded glumly. “Except for the bathroom a few times—and they always put the hood back on me before
I go—I have not left this room.”

  Sylvie Manet spoke up. “I have been here only a few hours more than Detective Avars.”

  Elise looked down at Sylvie, who was the only person still seated. “How did you end up here?” she asked.

  “I was so worried about Georges,” Sylvie said. “I read through all of his recent e-mails again, and they did not seem right to me.”

  “In what sense?” Elise asked.

  “It was almost as if…someone else had written them.” Sylvie nodded to Avril. “I went to the Gendarmerie to discuss my concerns with Detective Avars.”

  Working the binding at her wrists again, Avril looked over to Sylvie. “When was this?”

  “This morning,” Sylvie said. “You weren’t there, of course.” Avril thought back and realized she would have been in Lac Noir, interviewing Marcel Robichard. “Detective Valmont approached me. He told me he was also working on the case. He followed me back to my house to see the e-mails in person.” She sighed bitterly. “As soon as we came inside, he surprised me. I was overpowered before I knew it.”

  “Do you know where we are now?” Elise asked.

  Sylvie shook her head. “They put a hood on me like the rest of you. All I know is that it was not a long drive from my house.”

  Avril turned to Noah. “Dr. Haldane, have you learned any more since we spoke?”

  Noah stared at Avril with lingering reticence, making it clear that he did not fully trust her. Elise answered for him. “This was never about the glacier sample in Sylvie’s freezer.”

  Avril was taken by surprise. “This infection was not in the water Georges passed out?”

  “Oh, it’s in the water, all right,” Duncan said. “Just not in the ice.”

  “The water comes from the Antarctic.” Elise went on to brief Avril about the well in Vishnov and the magazine advertisement for the Lake. Then she described their theory that the ice sample had been manufactured to deliberately point them in the wrong direction.

  “In fact, the polar opposite direction,” Duncan emphasized.