Running Dark ec-2

by Jamie Freveletti

  Plower’s BlackBerry buzzed. She eyed the message, then paled.

  “What?”

  “He’s gone. I asked the casino’s manager to tell me if he left.”

  “Call him back. Find out what he knows,” Stromeyer said. She watched while Plower hit the redial button.

  “It’s Susan Plower. Thanks for calling me. Do you know where he went?” She sat silent while the manager poured information into her ear. After a minute she thanked the man and hung up.

  “Well?” Stromeyer said.

  “He left several hours ago. He said he was headed to another game in what he called ‘a famous area of Frankfurt.’” She gave Stromeyer another frightened look. “Do you know of any famous gambling areas in Frankfurt?”

  Stromeyer pondered the question. “In fact, there are a couple of famous casinos nearby. One in Bad Homburg.”

  Plower sagged against the counter, like a balloon that had deflated. Stromeyer felt sorry for her.

  “Don’t look so glum. There’s one bit of good news in this picture: I’ll send Banner a text message right now asking him to wait there until he receives further instructions from me.”

  Plower nodded her head forcefully up and down. “Tell him to go right to this Bad Homburg casino.”

  Stromeyer was already tapping out the text. She put up a hand to Plower. “Hold up. We don’t know if he’s there. I hate to send Banner on a useless trip.”

  Plower hauled her overstuffed briefcase off the counter. “It’s not a useless trip. Rickell must still be gambling. What other explanation could there be for him not checking in with me? He’s due to speak in”—she consulted her watch—“eighteen hours, and he doesn’t even have a copy of his itinerary.” She thumped the briefcase with her hand. “It’s in here, for God’s sake. Oh, no, Major. He’s gambling, you can bet on it.”

  “Once he’s back to normal, I want you to ask him if at any time in the last three days he could have been poisoned.”

  Plower’s head snapped up from her BlackBerry, where she’d been tapping her own text. “Poisoned?”

  “Yes. Delivered in the form of a prick from an EpiPen. If so, then call me on my cell. I need to know as soon as possible. If Banner finds him, I’ll have him interview Rickell. We need to determine if he indeed was the subject of a poison plot.”

  “And if he was?”

  “Then he’d better be careful. I think Senator Cooley was poisoned, and now he’s dead.”

  43

  MUNGABE WATCHED HIS LATEST CREW COME LIMPING BACK TO the mother ship. Three men were dead, two injured, and none had ever reached the Kaiser Franz. Mungabe set his teeth together while Talek asked the questions.

  “What happened? How is it three boats were unable to take the cruise liner? A bunch of weak tourists overcame you?” Talek screamed his derision at the crew. One of his lieutenants screamed back.

  “We were hit from behind! A second craft hid in the shadows, waiting to attack. It launched grenades at us as we fought forward.”

  “Who was on this boat?” Mungabe asked. The crewman turned to him, fear in his dark eyes.

  “An African. Maybe Kenyan, I don’t know, and two Westerners. But, Mungabe, this is the thing—I could have sworn that the boat they used was Ali’s.”

  Ali the thief held few loyalties, but generally he would not cross a warlord unless under great pressure. Whoever paid for the boat held enough power to frighten Ali or was many times smarter than him. Mungabe lowered himself to his deck chair to think. An assistant brought him a pot of hot tea, bowing as he backed away. Talek began his screaming once again, but Mungabe flitted a hand at him to silence him.

  “You”—he pointed to the crewman—“go below and tend to your injured. Be prepared to tell me everything that occurred.”

  The man nodded and limped away, keeping his eyes averted from Talek’s the entire time.

  “Talek, get Roducci on the phone. He has not given me the information I need, and by now the wire transfer must have cleared.”

  Ten minutes later, Roducci’s voice flowed out of the satellite receiver’s speaker.

  “There is rumor of a significant sale going down soon in your region.”

  “What arms are they selling?”

  “Not arms, a weapon. Chemical. Some say it is a new poison.”

  Talek’s eyes widened as he listened. “Where is it?”

  “There are many different stories, some impossible to believe, and it is difficult to say which is true, but there is one that says the weapon is on a freighter somewhere in the Gulf of Aden trade route.”

  “Why do you say the stories may not be true? Tell me all the rumors.”

  Roducci sighed over the line. “One source told me that the weapon may actually be hidden on a cruise liner. There are some buyers on the ship, having a vacation while they wait to cut a deal.”

  Mungabe smiled to himself. So the Vulture’s precious cargo was actually a weapon, not a medication. “What kind of weapon is it?”

  “Chemical. But there’s more. The rumor is that the buyers are other arms traders and are actually being set up. The seller has no intention of holding the auction. Rumor is that the seller lured them onto the ship but intends to either attack the ship or sink it. Either way he gets rid of the competition. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about this, would you?”

  Mungabe was impressed with the Vulture’s duplicity. No wonder he let Mungabe take the proceeds from the ship and its hostages. He was using Mungabe to eliminate the competition.

  “And who owns this ship?” Mungabe said.

  “A German conglomerate. But I wouldn’t attempt to take it, if the rumor is true.”

  Mungabe snorted. “Why not?”

  “Because the word is that the ship is protected by a company that I know well.”

  Mungabe knew what Roducci would say next. He felt his face flaming at the thought. “And who would that be?”

  “Darkview. An American—”

  “Do not say that name to me! I have taken steps to destroy it. By now both it and its president must be dead.”

  Roducci scoffed. “Hardly. I know the president and the vice president, and they—and their company—are very much alive. In fact, I just handled a matter for them. I don’t know who tells you Darkview is no more, but you should not listen to them. They lie.”

  “Who from Darkview is protecting the ship?”

  “You want names?”

  “For several thousand dollars, I deserve names,” Mungabe said. He heard Roducci blow out a breath in aggravation.

  “I’ve heard that two Darkview agents are there. A sniper and a chemist.”

  “And their names?”

  “This I do not know.”

  Mungabe thought Roducci did know, but he didn’t bother to press him.

  “Chemists don’t scare me. Tell me about the shooter.”

  “The gossips say that he can shoot the eyes out of an eagle at five hundred paces.”

  “He is the mercenary, and the chemist guards the drugs. These two men will not live to see tomorrow.”

  Roducci coughed for a minute before catching his breath. “The sea is vast. There are any number of trawlers you can harass. Perhaps you leave the cruise liner alone. Nothing good will come of attacking it.”

  Mungabe stood up to increase his presence, even though he knew Roducci could not see the gesture. “Do you question my ability? I will kill them all!”

  Roducci sighed over the line. “Think, Mungabe. If Darkview agents are protecting the arms, then it is likely that the American military hired them. You are buying trouble. I doubt that the ship will be taken without a battle. You don’t need the money. Why do you do this?”

  Just like a Westerner, Mungabe thought. They had no understanding of the greater glory beyond this world. They only fought to live; they did not embrace death.

  “I do this to ensure my place in the afterworld.”

  Roducci burst out laughing. “You do this to buy another Ran
ge Rover and some more khat. You also do this because you are in too deep with the Vulture.”

  Mungabe sucked in a breath. Roducci’s information went farther than Mungabe liked.

  “But you should know that even though the Vulture is losing against Darkview, he will not die, because he fails to do his own fighting. He hires people like you to do it for him, and after you die, he walks away, beating the dirt off his palms. So think carefully before you take on the sniper and the chemist.”

  “I should not have paid you. You disrespect me,” Mungabe said.

  “You paid for the truth, and that is what you got. My advice will keep you alive. Take it.”

  Mungabe punched off the speakerphone in response. He dialed the Vulture’s number.

  “What do you want?” The European didn’t bother with a greeting.

  “You haven’t eliminated Darkview. You broke our agreement. Therefore I am no longer honoring it. I’m going to take the chemical weapon after I take the ship.” Mungabe felt enormous satisfaction when he heard the Vulture’s quick intake of breath over the phone line.

  “You broke your end of the deal. You were to have taken the ship by now, but you haven’t. You failed.”

  Mungabe’s brief feeling of superiority disappeared. He wanted to reach through the phone to throttle the Vulture.

  “There are Darkview agents on board. You didn’t tell me this. Had you done so, I would have put all my men on the job. I thought I was dealing with a bunch of soft tourists. You lied to me.”

  “I didn’t know Darkview agents were on board. This is the first I have learned of it. However, I have one of my men there. Tell me which ones are the agents and I’ll arrange to kill them.”

  “Like you killed Darkview’s president? He still lives.”

  “Tell me. My operative can use the weapon on them. They’ll be dead in half an hour, and you can take the ship.”

  “I don’t know who they are. I just know it’s a sniper and a chemist. My contact refused to identify them.”

  The Vulture said nothing for a moment. “I’ll have my contact hit the entire ship. This will disable it once and for all, and then your men will be able to walk on board. We’ll put an end to this back-and-forth fighting.”

  “Oh, no you won’t. Those hostages are mine to ransom. You will not kill them.”

  “Relax, Mungabe.” Now the Vulture’s voice took on a soothing tone. “The stick won’t kill the passengers. The weapon will disorient them. Only the weak and old will die with the first dose. It kills all on a double dose. I will tell my operative to hit everyone once, then wait to see if the Darkview agents reveal themselves. When they do, only they will be hit a second time.”

  Mungabe liked the idea of weakening the enemy from the inside. “Do it.”

  44

  EMMA FINISHED LINING UP THE SMALLER BOXES. SUMNER AND Janklow completed their allotments before standing back as well. Clutch had left twenty minutes earlier to get an update on the pirate situation from Wainwright.

  “Remember,” Emma said, “ricin is odorless and colorless. What we’re looking for are any vials that appear to have been tampered with, or any vials containing liquid different from all the others, or crystals rather than liquid. If you find one, put it aside. I have only three testing kits, so we’ll test just the suspicious boxes. Ready?” The men nodded. “Let’s get to it.”

  Emma slid her temporary fire mask over her head, turned it on, and bent to open the cartons. She still wore gloves but had removed the heavy work coverings, leaving the surgical gloves in place. She opened the top to find twelve sealed vials. She carefully removed each one, turning it back and forth before replacing it in its own little section. The first box looked innocuous. Each vial was in place, each contained the same-looking fluid, and each had a sealed top that appeared to be intact. She headed to the next, performing the exact steps. As she did, she cast glances at Sumner and Janklow. They worked with an efficiency that matched Emma’s, and in silence.

  Forty-five minutes later, she straightened. She’d completed her allotment and found nothing. Each vial appeared to be factory-sealed, and each contained liquid that was similar in color and amount. Nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary. Sumner finished his vials and stepped back. Janklow was last. He, too, stepped back.

  “Nothing tampered with on my end. Yours?” Emma said.

  Sumner shook his head. “Same here. Janklow?”

  “All looks in order to me.” Janklow sounded relieved.

  “Then let’s pick three random boxes, and I’ll test one vial from each.”

  Sumner picked three at random and handed them to her. She pulled out one vial from each, lined them up on the floor, and opened her kits. Each kit contained a test tube nestled in a small plastic stand. Emma placed the stand next to the vial it was to test.

  She nodded at Sumner. “Can you open the first vial and pour it into the tube? Wait three minutes. If ricin is present, it will set off a chemical reaction.”

  “What type of reaction?” Sumner was already opening his vial.

  “You’ll see a luminescence. The liquid will literally begin to glow.”

  They dumped the vaccine vials into the test tubes and waited. At three minutes the tubes remained the same.

  “The intelligence must have been wrong. False alarm.” Janklow reached up to pull off his fire mask.

  “Leave your mask on. We should have a few more minutes at least,” Emma said. She gazed at the vials, trying to decide their next step. Just because the vials were intact and the three random controls were clear didn’t mean that they were safe. Conceivably one could have added the ricin at the factory before the tamper seal was put in place.

  “We need to destroy them all. It’s the only way to be sure.”

  Sumner nodded. “I agree.”

  Janklow looked grim but nodded also. “What a shame. The children need these vaccines. How do we go about it? Do we even have the right equipment to do that?”

  Emma shook her head. “Not really. We need to heat it to eighty degrees centigrade for an hour. Generally you’d incinerate them. Water boils at one hundred, but I don’t think we should just dump the ricin into boiling water, because the particles could escape into the air with the steam. We’d end up killing ourselves. We would need to trap the steam as well.” She waved at the next large crate that also had the word PRICE stamped on it. “What’s that supposed to contain?”

  Janklow checked a clipboard that hung on a hook at the door. He flipped through the pages. “A heart medication.”

  “Do you know which one Price makes?” Sumner asked.

  “Cardovin. Has to be,” Emma said. “Let’s open it. See if it’s really Cardovin in there or if we find some more vials. Then we can decide how to proceed.”

  Sumner picked up the crowbar left by Clutch and applied it to the crate’s slats. He ripped off two from the side before moving around to the back. He stopped cold.

  “Caldridge, come look.”

  Emma stepped forward, Janklow next to her. Sumner pointed to the rear of the crate. It was clear someone had already ripped off the plywood slats. Two were missing from the center. The broken pieces sat on the floor. The remaining splintered slats formed a rough opening, like a window, allowing access to the boxes inside. Someone had slashed at the boxes with a cutter. Their cardboard sides were shredded. Pieces of paper and bits of plastic from the shrink wrap hung from the opening. The inside of the carton looked like it had been ransacked. Several round plastic containers marked CARDOVIN were strewn around. Some lay on their sides, others were upended on their caps, and one lay on the ground at Emma’s feet. It was clear that the container had been full, but the box was less than one-third filled.

  “Someone removed handfuls of these pill bottles,” Emma said.

  Sumner nodded. “Maybe the ricin was in here all the time.”

  “Didn’t the intelligence report say that the ricin was in a vaccine vial?”

  “Maybe it was wrong. S
omeone could have put ricin in a powder form in one of these and transported it with the heart medication. Whoever it was, though, got to it before we did. Now we just have to figure out where it is on this ship.”

  “Has anyone disembarked since this whole pirate thing began?” Sumner spoke to Janklow, who shook his head.

  “No. And only Ms. Caldridge arrived. Whoever did this is still on board.”

  Emma wanted to kick something. She was too late. The ricin could be anywhere. She plunged her hand into the opening and moved it around, sifting through the remaining pill bottles. Her hand closed on a long, thin object at the bottom of the container. She pulled it out and held it up for Sumner and Janklow to see. It was a white EpiPen.

  “Gentlemen, here’s your weapon.”

  Janklow looked confused. “An antiallergy pen?”

  Emma’s mask gave out. She pulled it off. Sumner and Janklow did the same. Suddenly she wasn’t worried about ricin inhalation anymore. She was beginning to doubt that it had ever been there in the first place.

  “This is some sort of dopamine and epinephrine accelerator.”

  “I know what dopamine is, but what’s epinephrine?” Janklow said.

  “You probably know it by its former name: adrenaline.”

  “What happens when these substances are accelerated?” Sumner asked.

  “In my case, my reactions alternated between panic attacks, the urge to run away, and the need to drink.”

  Sumner frowned. He cleared his throat, looking concerned. “Caldridge, those are the classic symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder.”

  Emma fixed him with a look. “Which I have, we know this. But my symptoms before getting stuck just entailed nightmares and headaches. Since I got stuck, these other problems have arisen.”

  “Do you know if anyone else is being attacked and having the same reactions?” Janklow said.

  Emma didn’t know, and there was currently no way to find out. She shook her head.

  Janklow sighed. “The existence of the EpiPen doesn’t rule out ricin. We still have to address what to do with these vials.”

  She turned her attention back to the task at hand. Janklow was right. The vials remained an issue. Sumner stood over them. He seemed to make a decision.