“Yeah, I think he would,” he said to himself, grabbing Jinx by the shoulder.
“Change in plans, Jinx, an’ I think you’re gonna like it ’cause it means your skinny ass won’t get shot at and we’ll all still end up rich as hell.”
Chapter 38
When Mason sauntered back up the hill like he didn’t have a care in the world, Lauren grabbed him by the front of his shirt and shook him like a rag doll. “What the hell did you do down there? You guys looked like you were going to tear each other’s throats out and then suddenly you’re best buds.”
When Mason just grinned and hesitated, she shook him again back and forth yelling, “Tell me . . . tell me . . . tell me . . . !”
Mason glanced back down the hill and saw Bear explaining the change in circumstances to his men. “There, Lauren, is at least a partially honorable man.”
She stepped back aghast. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? The bastards chase us all over God’s creation trying to kill us and steal a cure for the world’s worst plague in history and all you can say is he’s a partially honorable man?”
“Come on, help me get our things together and I’ll tell you the damnedest story.”
When he’d finished, she just shook her head. “Men!” was all she’d say as she finished packing up the specimens and blood samples. “Do you really think we can trust them to keep their word and allow us to leave with the specimens?”
He stared down the hill, watching Bear and his men pack up their gear and head off into the jungle. “I think so, as long as our interests and theirs coincide.”
He smirked, “But I would hate to be on the other side from Bear . . . he is one tough son of a bitch.”
He turned from staring at the jungle to look at her. “You know,” he said, pulling out his phone. “Battersee said Congressman O’Donnell told him Blackman had turned one of the Wildfire Team’s members into a spy for him . . . one code-named Janus.”
Lauren laughed sourly. “Imagine that! A spy on the team, just like you suspected, Mason.” After a moment, she added, “Janus, well that’s an appropriate name for a spy anyway.”
Mason raised his eyebrows. “How so?”
“Not up much on your Roman mythology, huh?” Lauren teased. “Janus was a god with two faces, one pointing to the front and one to the rear.”
“Two faces, huh?” Mason asked, nodding. “You’re right; it is an appropriate name for a traitor.”
“Did Battersee say why this spy had suddenly had a change of heart and decided to work on the side of the angels?” Lauren asked.
“Evidently Janus had suddenly figured out Blackman was going to tie up all the loose ends by killing the Wildfire Team . . . along with his spy Janus.”
“Why in the world would he do that?”
Mason shrugged. “Think about it. If Blackman’s mercenaries had succeeded in getting the plants and blood specimens from us and eliminating us, the only other people who knew about the existence of a possible cure would be the Wildfire Team. There’s no way he could leave either us or any members of the team alive to talk, otherwise every law enforcement agency in the world would be after him . . . he’d have no place to hide.”
After a few minutes of dialing and then redialing, he gave Lauren a puzzled look. “I can’t get through to the team. I keep getting a busy signal.”
She shrugged. “Maybe one of them is on the phone.”
He shook his head. “Nope, if the line is busy, I’m supposed to get a voicemail where I can leave a message.”
“Then something’s wrong with the satellite hookup.”
“Maybe,” he said doubtfully. “Or maybe this Janus had sabotaged the lab’s communications gear before he or she decided to change sides.”
“Why, what would that accomplish?” Lauren asked.
“Well, for one thing, it would keep the team from alerting the CDC that we had a lead to a possible cure, and that would give Janus’s mercenaries a chance to kill us and get the plants before anyone in the States knew anything about them. But since Janus has now changed sides, it might just be to keep Blackman from suspecting his spy has turned until the congressman has a chance to nail his ass.”
“So, what do we do now?”
He shrugged. “We meet the boat that the congressman has hopefully sent for us and arrange for transportation back to the lab.”
“What about Janus?” Lauren asked.
“Our one big advantage is that Janus doesn’t have any idea that we know there is a spy among us. For all Janus knows, the only person aware of his/her existence is Congressman O’Donnell and Colonel Blackman, and Janus will have no idea that O’Donnell will have called Battersee and alerted him to the existence of a spy on the team.”
“Especially since Janus has presumably made the team incommunicado,” Lauren said.
“That might just give us enough of an edge to smoke this Janus out before he/she can escape.”
“So we’re going to go back into the jungle and join up with the Wildfire Team, a team that we know Colonel Blackman has targeted for elimination?” Lauren questioned.
“Uh, when you put it that way . . .” Mason responded.
“And not only that, we don’t have any idea who he has hired to do the killing or when they are scheduled to attack?”
“Ah . . . again, no we don’t.”
“Any chance we can get a squad of Marines to go back to the lab with us?” she asked.
“That might not be such a bad idea. Let me think about it.”
Lauren gave him a sideways glance. “And since the sleeping arrangements are already tight, if any of those young, muscular Marines need a place to bunk . . .”
“Hey lady, Marines are used to roughing it. They can sleep in their pup tents, or sleeping bags, or whatever!”
She leaned over to put her hand on his shoulder. “Does that green look in your eyes mean you wouldn’t want me sharing my bed with a Marine?”
“No, ’cause then I’d have to kill him, and Marines are notoriously difficult to kill.”
They heard a laugh from behind them and turned to see Motzi, his face flaming red, laughing at them. “Señor Williams is . . . how you say . . . jealous!” he said, grinning at Mason.
“Sí, Motzi,” Mason said, returning the grin, “mucho jealous!”
With that, they gathered up the rest of their gear and headed down the hill toward the river to see if the mercenaries had left their boat intact.
When they got there, they found a note attached to the bow of the boat. “Doc, I’m leaving your boat intact with the understanding that you will delay contacting the CDC or your team in the jungle until I’ve had a chance to sting Blackman. I should have our fees collected by midnight tonight since he can release money from his Cayman bank account into ours at most any time. After that, you’re free to do with him what you will.”
Bear had scrawled his name at the bottom of the note.
Mason let Lauren read it. “Are you going to give him the time he asked for?”
Mason shrugged. “Sure, we had an agreement. And besides, I don’t mind seeing some of Colonel Blackman’s ill-gotten gains going to a good cause.”
“A good cause?”
“Yeah, Bear said this was his retirement money, so he’s going to be out of the mercenary game, which is better for all concerned in my mind.”
Lauren laughed. “I can’t disagree with that.”
They loaded their packs into the boat and Mason and Motzi pushed the boat out into the current, where it lazily headed toward the village of Tehuantepec a couple of miles downriver.
On the way, they heard the staccato roar of a large military helicopter taking off in the distance. Bear was on his way, Mason thought.
After about thirty minutes, they began to see dwellings and small buildings and shacks on both sides of the river, along with dozens of natives up to their knees in the river water washing out clothes and utensils and generally doing what they did every day of their l
ives.
Motzi called out in either rapid Spanish or Nahuatl to a couple of the ladies nearby and they laughed and called back something in the same language, which made Motzi blush a deep red color.
Lauren caught his look and couldn’t resist teasing him. “Oh-ho, Motzi. What’s going on? You got a new girlfriend?”
If possible, Motzi turned an even darker shade of red. “No, not that.”
“So, what was that all about?” Lauren continued, not about to let him off the hook.
“Motzi ask how water was, and lady called back for me to take my clothes off and jump in and she would do same and join me in a swim.”
Mason laughed. “Well, we’ve got a few minutes to spare; want to take her up on it, Motzi?”
Motzi shook his head rapidly. “No! Motzi just . . . how you say . . . teasing.”
Lauren suddenly stood up in the bow of the boat and pointed. “Look, I think that’s our transportation up ahead.”
Mason turned and looked downriver and his mouth dropped open at the sight of one of the strangest watercraft he’d ever seen. It looked like a huge Zodiac-style boat with two fan-looking propellers on the rear and various and sundry other smaller structures on each side. The boat appeared to be some sort of hovercraft as it was floating a couple of feet off the surface of the river and moving in slow circles just inside the river’s opening into the ocean.
There was what looked to be a fifty-caliber machine gun affixed to the bow with two Marines manning it, and the barrel was pointed directly at them.
Lauren looked worriedly at Mason. “They are expecting us, aren’t they?”
“I certainly hope so.”
He stood up and waved his arms. “Ahoy, the boat,” he called. “I’m Dr. Mason Williams and these are my associates.”
The engines on the boat stilled and the boat sunk down until it floated on the river current, until one of the large anchors on the starboard side was lowered into the river.
A naval officer with lieutenant commander bars on his collars stepped to the front of the boat. He said a couple of words to the men manning the machine gun and they relaxed, letting the barrel rise to point at the sky.
He waved at Mason, beckoning them onward. “Come aboard, Dr. Williams and crew,” he added, smiling widely. “Glad to see you survived until we arrived.”
* * *
Thirty minutes later they were aboard, their gear had been stored, and they were in the galley being treated to the first decent meal they’d had since they left the Cytotec lab.
The naval officer walked into the room and said, “Good evening and welcome to our LCAC. I am Lieutenant Commander Steven Piner.”
Mason stood up and held out his hand. “Hello, Commander. I’m Dr. Mason Williams, and this is Dr. Lauren Sullivan, and our native guide and friend, Guatemotzi.”
Piner shook hands with Lauren, but when he turned to shake hands with Motzi he was surprised to see the boy snap to attention and give him a first-class salute, his face dead serious.
“I am named for the last and greatest Aztec emperor,” Motzi intoned.
Piner grinned and returned the salute, “And I can see why your father gave you this honor, for you are surely a great warrior, also.”
As Motzi beamed with pride, Piner gestured for them all to sit down. “Please, continue with your meal.”
He took a cup of coffee from the steward and joined them, sitting at the head of the table so he could watch all of them as they talked.
“Commander,” Mason said around a mouthful of roast beef. “You said this boat is called an LCAC?”
“Yes, it’s a little easier than saying welcome to our Landing Craft Air Cushion, otherwise known as a hovercraft.”
“Commander Piner,” Lauren said, “would you mind telling us a little about the boat, as it is quite the strangest-looking craft I’ve ever seen.”
Piner beamed, “Sure, ma’am, I’d be pleased to. The LCAC is used primarily as a landing craft by the United States Navy’s Assault Craft Units. In addition to up to a full payload of helicopters, tanks, and sixty tons of cargo, we can transport twenty-four fully loaded, geared-up, and battle-ready Marines. Our top speed is seventy knots or about seventy-five mph and our range at that speed is about one hundred and forty miles, depending on how heavily loaded we are.”
“Jesus,” Mason said, eyebrows raised in surprise. “This thing really moves.”
“Yeah, and since it’s a hovercraft, over eighty percent of the world’s coastline is accessible to us. She’s quite an asset.”
“So, do you cross the ocean in this or are you carried by another ship?” Lauren asked.
“We’re transported aboard the USS Makin Island out of San Diego, California. We were the closest asset to your position when you called for help.”
“The USS Makin Island?” Mason asked, holding up his cup for a refill.
“All of the LCACs are carried aboard what is called the Wasp Class of Landing Helicopter Dock amphibious assault ships, or LHDs.” Piner grinned, “You can see why the military loves their acronyms, since the official names of these things are quite cumbersome.”
Lauren reached over and patted Mason’s shoulder while grinning at Piner. “Mason, I think we’re in very good hands indeed.”
She held up her coffee cup in a toast to the commander, “Thank you for rescuing us, fair sir.”
Piner nodded, blushing a slight bit. “You are quite welcome, ma’am.”
“So what now?” Mason asked.
Piner shrugged. “That’s up to you, Doctor. My orders, and they come from very high up, are to take you wherever you want to go and to give you any assistance you need—apparently up to and including going to war with Mexico if we need to.”
He paused and looked intently at Mason. “If you don’t mind my asking, just what the hell are you two up to?”
Mason glanced at Lauren, who nodded for him to go on. “Well, we might just have the beginnings of a cure for this plague that is sweeping the world, and there are a group of bad guys, including some in the Mexican military, who are trying to prevent us from getting the cure to the rest of the world.”
Piner’s face flushed red. “You mean you might have the answer to all these millions of people dying and some sons of bitches are trying to stop you?” he growled.
Mason nodded. “That’s about the size of it, Commander.”
Piner stood up. “Well, hell, then, my men and I will deliver you to the very gates of hell if need be to stop this plague.”
“That won’t be necessary, Commander.” Mason took a pen and paper from the middle of the table and wrote on it and then handed it to Piner. “If you can deliver us and a squad of armed Marines to those coordinates, we should be able to take it from there.”
“You got it, Doc. I’ll take these to our navigator and we’ll get you within helicopter range and then we’ll get you delivered safe and sound as soon as we can.”
Chapter 39
Houston
The United States was in the midst of the largest and most intensive airlift since the days of the Berlin Airlift in 1948 and 1949. Hospitals, clinics, and doctors’ offices that had a surplus of antibiotics and IV fluids were donating their extras to places that were experiencing acute shortages.
Typically more rural areas were less hard hit by the plague than places with a more densely compacted population. It was the same with countries, but most of the less densely populated countries were also the poorest and their supplies were never very copious to begin with.
Under the auspices of the U.S. Air Force, practically every plane that could fly, as well as every pilot that was not sick with the plague, was being conscripted to fly medical supplies from one location to another, and it was starting to make a difference, as the number of new plague victims was starting to level out a bit.
People were hunkering down in their houses and staying away from crowds and other people and that also was making a difference. Only people with essential jobs wer
e going to work, so the economy was taking an enormous hit, but compared to the loss of life, no one cared.
Dr. John Meeker at the Houston Baptist Hospital had long since been reduced to sending nurses and orderlies out to nearby supermarkets to buy as much sugar and salt and purified water as they could find, and he was directing the pharmacy staff and all available interns in the arcane art of making saline and glucose solutions from scratch since they were out of the manufactured supplies.
He looked up from a patient he was ministering to when a nurse called excitedly, “Dr. Meeker, you’ve got to come see this!”
He sighed, gave the nurse at his side some quick orders on what to do for the patient, and then he followed the other nurse down the hall and out to the loading bay at the rear of the hospital.
There was a large truck with green canvas over the top of the rear compartment being unloaded. There were cases and cases of IV fluids along with cardboard boxes labeled cephalexin, ciprofloxen, ampicillin, minocycline, and other assorted antibiotics, some of which he hadn’t used in years but which he was delighted to have. They were trying many different combinations of antibiotics on the plague, hoping to hit some fortuitous combination of drugs that would either cure or at least slow down the progression of the illness.
So far they hadn’t had much luck with the cure part but there was some evidence the massive onslaught of antibiotics was slowing the progression of some patients’ disease.
He quietly clasped his hands, looked heavenward, and said softly, “Thank you, Lord.”
And then he rolled up his sleeves and began to help unload the truck.
“Is there anything I can do?” the nurse asked.
He looked over his shoulder. “Yes, get every nurse and intern and orderly who is not directly caring for a patient down here to cart this stuff to the pharmacy so we can begin to use it.”
Coast of Mexico
While they rested in the ward room as the LCAC raced up the coast of Mexico to get them within helicopter range of their Wildfire camp, Mason, Lauren, and Motzi watched TV news about the worldwide plague and its horrors.
The Anthrax Protocol Page 30
