Amazon Roulette

by C. M. Gleason

  She looked right, and then left, and then—

  Her heart gave a little bump. Was the area a more charcoal gray than ink black down toward the left? Marina hesitated just for a moment, then started down in that direction.

  Now that she was out of sight of Eli and any signal he might give her, she moved more quickly. The sooner to return…

  The end of the passage was definitely gray. Not black.

  Dressed as she was in the protective clothing, Marina couldn’t feel any change in the air, but she hurried along quickly, taking less care to keep the squeeze light cupped. The pelting insects were simply part of the environment, and she had this sense of urgency that propelled her on. Whether it was because she wanted to get back to Eli, or because of what she might discover, she didn’t know.

  Suddenly, she saw it. On the floor, bathed in a wedge of dark gray.

  Something that didn’t belong there—a crumpled heap, a lumpy shadow…

  A body.

  A human body.

  Marina hesitated for half a second, then moved toward the prone figure. It was obvious even at first glance that the woman—she was dressed in something pink—wasn’t merely sleeping or resting.

  Yes, it was a woman. And she was wearing track pants, and a tank top…Marina shone the light over the still body, her heart pounding.

  Cora Allegan.

  The squeeze light clearly identified the missing CEO, even though her face and décolletage were red and blotchy with frightening-looking hives. Marina had seen enough photos of the woman, thanks to Gabe, and she had no doubt of the identification. Allegan was wearing the same clothing she’d had on when abducted.

  Still cloaked in her protective gear, Marina put her light on the ground and stepped on it with her toe so she had two hands with which to work.

  “Cora?” she said, feeling for a pulse. Even through her gloves, she felt the heat of the woman’s skin burning through the stretchy material. No pulse…or else it was very weak.

  Placing a hand on Cora’s chest, Marina waited to see if it would rise and fall…and after a long, tense moment, it did.

  She was still alive. But not for long; it was clear she was well into the late stages of the bacterial infection from the beetles.

  “Cora? Can you hear me?” she said. “I’m here to help you.”

  Then Marina scrambled to her feet. The antibiotics. She had the antibiotic on her—or what she and Eli believed was the treatment—deep in the pockets of her cargo pants. Beneath the protective covering of her suit.

  Damn.

  If Cora went into sudden cardiac arrest, there’d be no help for her. It might yet be too late for the antibiotic, but she had to at least try.

  Marina looked around hastily. Cora must have come in here somehow…hadn’t she? If there was another way out, Marina could—no, wait.

  I’ll run back to Eli, tell him what’s going on, and get the antibiotic prepared in the safe room.

  She wouldn’t tell him how many beetles she trounced on the way to and from, however.

  No. There wasn’t time. She would take off the suit right here, pull out the antibiotic, and give it to Cora now. No time to waste.

  She began to unfasten the suit, her fingers quick and brisk…then paused. Don’t want to contaminate the treatment. Who knew what was in the air, or what might happen—insects were still buzzing around.

  She’d just have to be careful. But her gloves were tinged with the bacteria too…if she took them off, she’d be exposed, and if she left them on, she’d likely infect herself as well as corrupt the medication.

  Marina was hardly ever this indecisive. She waffled, then decided five more minutes wouldn’t likely make a difference to Cora—but could keep her and the antidote from being contaminated.

  “I’ll be right back,” she said to Cora—who thus far had given no indication of awareness. “Five minutes. With a treatment.”

  Hoping she’d made the right decision, Marina bolted away from the prone woman, dashing down the corridor, squeeze light bobbing in her hands. The insects were infuriated by the wild light, small as it was, and they swarmed and whirled in an angry maelstrom that attacked her as she ran.

  When she got in sight of the window, she didn’t see Eli.

  Marina’s heart surged into her throat as she dashed to the glass and peered through.

  The chamber was empty. Hedron and Eli were gone.

  And when she rushed to try the door leading back into the room…

  It was locked.

  THIRTY-THREE

  September 30

  “Any news from Inez?” Helen asked as Gabe walked into her office without knocking. It was five in the morning and still dark outside. He’d gone back to the hotel at midnight and she’d dozed on a sofa in the break room, waiting for an update from Tech. Not that she’d slept much, and from the looks of it, he hadn’t either.

  And here he was, barging in without warning—what if she’d been changing her blouse (as she often did after a night on the break room couch), or on a personal call?—and without the very necessary accessory of a cup of some sort of caffeine.

  “That’s exactly why I’m here,” he said, settling himself on the corner of her desk—another habit of his that she found irritating.

  It was good to remind herself of Gabe’s imperfections, in light of spending hours working this closely with him again. It would be so easy to fall back into—well, whatever it was she had felt for him when they were together. So why couldn’t the guy sit on a freaking chair? Why did he have to perch right on the edge of her desk, too close and sort of looming over her?

  He looked exhausted. And he’d done a hasty job shaving this morning, with a patch of missed stubble in front of his left ear lobe. He smelled good, though, which didn’t help the situation, along with the fact that his hair was disheveled so he looked like a tousled little boy—or like he’d just had sex.

  She pushed away the distractions and gave him—or more accurately, his information—her full attention. “All right, then let’s hear it.”

  “Inez sent a preliminary list of upcoming events in the US that could be considered to support industries that have poor environmental records. There might be ones internationally, but since the Skalas started here with the blackout, we’re working under the assumption they’re going to stay here.”

  “I agree.”

  “There’s one particular candidate that looks promising—it’s an event in Vegas on the first. After that, there’s really nothing that pings until after the first of the year. A few smaller, regional events, but nothing this big.”

  “October first? That’s tomorrow. Damn, that’s tight.” Her brain began to buzz with thoughts, probabilities, plans. She sipped her chai, noticing Gabe’s eyes following the cup. Apparently he’d forgotten to get his own. Probably breakfast too. He always had been ravenous in the morning. She strictly turned her thoughts back on track. “All right. Tell me more.”

  “It’s a big convention of food conglomerates—you know, the ones who have the factory farms, and the chicken and cattle ranches. If you can call them ranches,” he added ruefully. “The cows are packed in, the chickens stuck in their carrels, and let’s not talk about what they do for veal. Plus we all know what effect these industries have on the environment. The Skaladeskas probably wouldn’t be happy about that. We’re looking at almost two thousand attendees.”

  “There was that agribusiness meeting in St. Louis that was canceled because of the blackout,” Helen said. “The Skalas could be targeting food producers this time, instead of automobile manufacturers.”

  “That’s why I zoned in on the one in Vegas. Like I said, there are other possibilities, but that one seemed most likely. Biggest bang for the buck. Inez, the goddess, is already cross-checking the attendees and corporations with the list from the flash drive,” Gabe said.

  “If Varden is on his way west, that would be a good sign.”

  “Right. But he’s not. He’s in Michigan.
At least, according to the tracker.”

  “Which could be on a semi.”

  “Yep.”

  Helen’s eyes narrowed. “They couldn’t be targeting something in Detroit again, could they?”

  “Well, if so, at least you’ll be familiar with the area.” His lips stretched in a wry smile. “But that’s a good thought. I’ll look more closely at the list and let Inez know to watch especially for pings in Michigan.”

  “All right. But how else can we narrow this down?” she said.

  They looked at each other. After a moment, she broke contact and shook her head. “Not even sure what we should be looking for. Beetles? It’s not like they’re big equipment or explosives. It’d be nearly impossible to find them. How many do they need? How big of a box or crate would they have to put them in?”

  “Can’t imagine they’d need a large crew for this either—releasing a box of insects is a one-man job.”

  “Probably.” She wanted to sink her head into her hands and rub her temples in hopes of making her brain work better…or at least slow down. But the words kept coming as fast as her mouth could form them. “Unless they’ve got something more involved planned. Insects can be unpredictable, so maybe they’re going to release them in a closed room, to make sure they hit whatever target they want? Or into the ventilation system? Would the bacteria get into the ventilation system and spread that way? What about into the food?”

  “But would they do something as simple as exposing a group of people to the bacteria, and then wait for three days for them to die? That just doesn’t seem…flashy enough.”

  “No. Not after fake earthquakes. Still…in a creepy sort of way, it makes sense. The Skaladeskas are all about Mother Earth, and maybe their choice of weapon or tool is always going to be something from the earth. You know, as if she’s giving them the tools. Using only natural things. The insects are ‘hers,’ if you will.”

  “Earthquakes are natural,” he said, nodding. “Last time they manufactured earthquakes.”

  “I sure as hell hope they don’t ever figure out how to create tsunamis,” she said grimly.

  “You don’t look like you’ve been getting much sleep.” Gabe slid off the corner of her desk and wandered over to stare at her whiteboard.

  “Goes with the territory.”

  “Yeah.” He picked up a marker and under her neatly printed Possible Targets heading, he scrawled, October 1, Vegas, Int’l Beef, Poultry & Dairy Producers Convention. Then he added: Detroit (?) and looked at the board. “I should go to Vegas. Just see if there’s anything that pings. Maybe you want to check out Detroit?”

  “Not a bad idea. And Bergstrom will authorize you to go to Vegas?”

  “Hell yeah. He wants to nail these guys as much as I do. Though I haven’t told him I know about Nora and Roman Aleksandrov.”

  “Probably better if you don’t for now. I have a feeling he’d be mortified if he knew we knew. It’s…well, it’s a challenge keeping our personal life from influencing our professional decisions.”

  She swore the back of his neck, only visible from the side because his hair was long enough to brush his collar, turned pink. “I know you think I’m blinded by love for Marina Alexander, and it’s influencing my decisions,” Gabe said, still facing the whiteboard. “But I’m not.”

  Suddenly, she didn’t want to continue this conversation. “Look, MacNeil, I didn’t mean anything by that comment except as a review of my own actions. When I pulled Jerome Blankenship in here for questioning about Allegan’s disappearance, I already hated—well, intensely disliked—the man because I knew he’d been cheating on his wife. I’d sort of been in her shoes; not that I was a wife or anything, but I—well, anyway, my feelings came out in my handling of Blankenship as a witness. I was impolite, cold, and gave it to him a lot harder than I needed to.”

  Gabe’s shoulders relaxed a little. “I’m sorry. Is that why you aren’t seeing Geoff Garrett anymore? Or was it someone else?”

  Helen was shocked he’d even known about Geoff, let alone that he knew they weren’t together any longer. “Yes.”

  “Idiot.”

  “I had a few stronger words than that for the guy,” she muttered, then picked up her tablet. Time to move on from the personal topics back to more pressing ones. She held up her tablet and its information like a little electronic shield. “So you want to go to Vegas.” That wouldn’t be a bad thing—at least he wouldn’t be in her office every day. And Detroit was less than an hour flight for her…

  He turned from the whiteboard. “We don’t have anything else to go on. I’m at a loss. I—” There was a soft chime from the vicinity of his coat pocket. “Finally.” He pulled out his smartphone. “I’ve been trying to download my email all morning, and the damned Wi-Fi was acting up or something.”

  Helen, who’d had no such trouble, returned to her tablet and scrolled through the notes she’d already reviewed multiple times, including a new report from Tom from Tech. There’d been nothing on Marina Alexander’s laptop that was questionable or raised any concerns, and—

  A noise from Gabe snatched her attention.

  “An email from Marina,” he said, stabbing at the phone. “Damn,” he muttered, stabbing again, more violently, as if the touchscreen wasn’t responding.

  Another reason Helen was lukewarm about technology.

  He fidgeted, swearing under his breath as he stared at the device, clearly waiting for the email to load. Helen could tell when it did, for he stilled, his eyes moving rapidly over it—twice—then he looked up at her. “She’s alive. Been treated—presumably Sanchez too, though she doesn’t say specifically. And—this is not good news—she says ‘learned bacterial infection can spread by touch.’ Since we already know it comes from the bugs, does that mean from person to person?”

  “That would not be good.” Helen’s chest tightened. “If they release beetles in a room, and people are infected and then they leave and touch anyone else before they realize what it is…it’ll be an epidemic before we can even stop it.” She looked grimly at him. “Is that flashy enough for you?”

  Gabe muttered a word Helen didn’t usually use, but in this case, she wholeheartedly agreed. “I don’t know. Marina was obviously interrupted while sending this, because she didn’t finish typing it.” His knuckles were white where he gripped the device. “I don’t believe the Skalas would hurt her. And if I know Marina, she’ll do everything she can to protect Sanchez.”

  “I agree with you. When did she send the message? Is there a time stamp? We can get Tech on it and trace the ISP and maybe the location—but you already know that. Did it say anything else?”

  “Yes. And I’m not sure what she means. She says, ‘Check my phone. Listen,’ and that’s it.”

  Helen dug Marina’s phone out of her desk drawer, and handed it—still in its plastic bag—to Gabe. “We listened to all her voice mails—current, deleted, and even recovered ones.”

  “I know. What else would we listen to?” He unfastened the plastic bag and pulled out the device. Helen had kept it on and charged so they would have instant knowledge of any incoming texts or calls that could assist. “The ring tone? Music?”

  “Wait! Check her voice memos.” Helen almost snatched the phone out of his hand in her excitement. “She recorded something she wants us to hear. Maybe when the Skaladeskas were taking them.”

  Gabe started to scroll through the phone, then stopped. “No, wait—not the voice memos.” His voice was almost as excited as Helen’s. “The camera. You know how easy it is to get to the camera and video setting on these phones—one button, pushed unobtrusively, and the phone is recording.”

  She crowded next to him, leaning over his shoulder this time, as he found it. “Yes. Here it is—two days ago. The last thing on her phone.”

  They both held their breaths as he pushed the button.

  Immediately, there were scuffling noises, the sounds of people moving, low, indistinct voices speaking, shuffling, rustling.
The screen remained dark and shadowed, as if the phone had been placed on a surface. But they could hear…

  Hardly more than snatches.

  Helen sensed Gabe’s frustration, and without thinking too hard about it, she closed her fingers around his bicep in a steadying grip and moved in closer. Still they listened, their breathing falling into a synchronized rhythm. Straining, listening…

  A few phrases—a command here and there, Marina’s clear alto voice responding flatly to a few baritone and bass tones—but hardly anything discernible, until…they must have moved closer to the phone.

  “…won’t be in touch, but you…”

  “Roman…on…as planned.”

  “…on the first…”

  “Let’s go.”

  Then the noises changed, and there was the sound of a door opening, then the distinct noise of it clanging shut. Then silence.

  Helen stepped back, removing her hand. “There’s more.”

  “It must have continued to record after they left.” Gabe stared at it, his frustration obvious. “And then stopped on its own. It was dead when I found it.” He stopped the video.

  “I’m sure Tech can get more out of that conversation.”

  Helen nodded. “But at least we have something.”

  The first.

  On the first.

  If that wasn’t a clue, what was?

  THIRTY-FOUR

  University of Michigan

  Biochemistry Lab 24D

  Ann Arbor

  Quinn Suszko stifled a yawn and jammed the key into the lock of the laboratory door. That had been a late night last night, but she and Jessie had gotten into a Friends binge-watch on Netflix, and once you got the episodes flowing…well, it was hard to look away. Just one more, they kept saying.

  But she’d told Dr. Milani she’d be into the lab by seven o’clock today to finish up the grant—it had to be submitted by midnight—and even though she and Jessie had turned off “The One With All the Thanksgivings” at four o’clock in the freaking a.m., Quinn was here. Right on time.