“We’re ready to listen, Sam. You need us, DARC is here. Besides, I’ve learned it’s not a good idea to ignore your gut.”
“Guys?” Jasper said, still standing at the doorway. “I’ve already seen his evidence. I think you’ll find it interesting. But if you’ll excuse me, I have to meet with someone real quick.” He left the room while Sam pulled up the news video compilation on his laptop.
“This here,” Sam said, pointing at the screen. “This is something one of the D.C. office staff put together for me. It’s a compilation of all news footage, legacy and independent, as well as any amateur footage uploaded from the event. I’ve gone over this about thirty times in the last twenty-four hours, which is why I currently look the way I do.”
Jackson laughed. “You look fine.”
Sam stared at him, knowing full well that the rings around his eyes had gotten twenty shades darker in the last eight hours alone. He was almost proud of it. He considered it a badge of honor in the fight to save his family, and the city.
“Well,” Jackson said, some hesitation creeping into his vice. “You do look a little tired.”
“I’m not just out here on vacation,” he said.
The room erupted into laughter. Sam smiled back and returned to his screen. Yeah, the guys would have his back. They always had. That was just what DARC Ops did.
“So I’ve gone through the raw footage, and then edited together another highlight reel.” Before he clicked play, Sam went back into his bag, grabbing a cord and then attaching it to the projector mounted on the table. It was pointing across the room to a bare wall. “Can someone hit the lights?”
Tansy pulled out his phone, and after a few swipes of his finger, the room lights dimmed.
“You hacked into the lighting system?” Sam grinned at him.
Tansy shrugged. “Bad habit.”
Projected on the wall was a still shot of Sam’s video. He pressed play, letting the clips run, all of them showing various angles and activities of the mysterious air-quality samplers.
“See those men?” Sam said.
A silence fell over the room as everyone leaned forward, their faces blank. Sam finally felt like he was getting somewhere. This was the missing piece, the part that would blow the whole scheme wide open. The piece that would prove the attack had been done by a bigger system and not just two lone nuts. There was more coming. He knew it as strongly as he’d known anything in his life. Even as strongly as he knew he loved Clara, and Molly, and would do anything to stop this threat against them.
“It looks damning,” Jackson said, sitting back in his chair. “But maybe they’re with the government, part of the crisis-response team, monitoring the air.”
“Only they’re not,” Sam said. “I checked.”
“And guys,” Matthias said. “Not to sound, uh, racist, or anything, uh, but, what are the odds of the government employing five Africans to do this very specific job?”
“You can’t tell their nationality from that video,” Jackson mentioned.
“Even still, that would have to be affirmative action on steroids. Not to sound racist.”
“Can you stop saying that?” Tansy said.
“Okay,” Jackson cut in. “Let’s just make a blanket statement that no one here is a racist. Okay?”
“It’s been crazy in this town,” Sam said. “With the protesters and everything. You can’t even talk about race anymore.”
“Unless you’re calling someone a racist. That’s still safe.” Tansy grinned, throwing a pencil at Matthias.
“Sam,” Jackson, said, “You think New Orleans is the only place that has protests? You should take a look at your school back in Washington.”
Sam sighed. “You’re just making the case for me not to return.”
“Well, we’re fucked either way,” Jackson said.
Tansy launched another pencil, this time at Jackson. “I think we’re getting off topic.”
“The topic,” Sam said, “is that the official story is bogus. These men are clearly testing air samples around the contamination site. They used a relatively harmless substance just to track its dispersal. What I’m afraid of is how they’ll use the results. I promise you, gentlemen, next time won’t be a test.”
“Okay,” Jackson leaned forward, his hands on the table. “What do you need?”
“On a personal level, I want access to those two suspects. That’s what I thought today was going to be about.”
“Sorry.” Jackson said. He grinned and blocked Tansy before a USB stick could launch into the air. Tansy was like an overgrown toddler at times, though his body moved as fast as his mind when he wanted it to. Neither was ever still for long.
“Well, no,” Sam said. “It’s fine. I think your being here can help me get that access. Just ten minutes alone with either of these guys and I’ll be able to crack them.”
“Damn straight,” Tansy said.
“If anyone can do it,” Matthias said, “it’s you.”
“What else do you want?” Jackson asked. “Besides never returning to Washington ever again.”
“I want DARC Ops on this,” Sam said.
Jackson looked at him, nodding.
“I think we need to be all over this,” Sam said. “Our full attention.”
“I can talk with the captain.”
“Forget him. He’s an ass. Talk to Homeland Security. We need to go big here. We’re up against a small army of terrorists, and they’re already plotting the next attack. It could be anywhere. Any time. Even today.”
The room silenced once more, but this time no one was smiling.
They must have thought the day would go a lot more simply than this. They probably thought they would pop down to Louisiana, convince Sam to leave all this mess in New Orleans and then be on a flight back to D.C. the next day. They probably thought it would be over with by now and they’d be going out for beers, not plotting how they could defend the city from another biological attack.
“We’ll have to book some rooms,” Jackson said, quietly.
Hope swelled in Sam. “I know a good place.”
While Sam was discussing the merits of staying at the five-star Grand Marais with Jackson, Jasper had returned to the boardroom. He stayed at the doorway, clearing his throat. When Sam looked at him, his expression hadn’t changed. Oh, Jasper tried to hide it, alright. He bet to everyone else he looked merely worried. To Sam, it was a look of abject fear, and it chilled Sam to his core.
“What is it?” Jackson finally asked. “You look like you’ve watched someone’s cat die.”
“I bet I look like I’ve just talked to the captain.”
“Did you tell him about this?” Jackson asked, pointing to Sam’s video. The image was still paused at the sight of the man and his air monitor.
“I didn’t have to. He had some news of his own.” Jasper finally walked back to the table, sitting, before standing and pacing about the room again. “Early this morning, they raided a warehouse outside of Baton Rouge. The occupants had moved out, sloppily. It was a rushed job. The whole site is under quarantine now, even the mile radius surrounding it.”
“What did they find?”
“A cache of bio agents. Some left behind, some left in traces in empty containers. Looks like they picked up and moved their operation somewhere. The Feds don’t know where. Some of the stuff tracks back to Tulane, the same lab that was the source for the original attack. Some other stuff is from Europe. Either way, they have these weapons, out there, somewhere, floating around. And now the Feds are worried that they’ll use them.”
“Sam,” Jackson said. “What will it take? A raise? See, this is exactly why we need you.”
“Those instincts,” Tansy said.
“I don’t need a raise,” Sam said. “I just wanted a vacation.”
“Will someone get the man a fucking vacation?” Tansy cried.
“But before that, we need to make sure this town is safe.”
“Jasper,” J
ackson said. “What steps are they taking to protect New Orleans?”
“Hardly any.”
“What!?”
“See?” Sam said, “This is what I’ve been up against the whole time.”
“It’s true,” Jasper said. “These guys are real slow movers down here. Crawlers. And they don’t take any outside advice at all. Though I have to admit I was on their side until Sam showed me his home movie. I don’t have his instincts, obviously.”
“None of us do.” Jackson looked at Sam. “What do you say, Sam? After we see this through, will you please come back to D.C.?”
“I’ll return,” he said. “But on my own terms.”
“Fine.”
“And my own time line,” he said, thinking immediately of Clara. “But for now, we have another time line to consider. How quickly can we mobilize an attack plan?”
“We’ll have to get more numbers,” Jackson said. “And logistics. And fucking biohazard suits.”
Next, they talked about compiling a list of possible target sites for the next attack. They split into two teams, one still on location while the other group set out to track down the connection with Tulane. There might be more suspects working there. At one point, the captain reappeared, looking like he was about to piss himself. He pulled Jasper aside and whispered something in his ear, before fleeing the room nearly as quickly. Sam watched as Jasper’s fear from before turned once again, this time to unmistakable terror. One by one, everyone else in the room stopped as they caught sight of Jasper.
This time, the look on his face was obvious.
“Gentlemen,” Jasper said. “The captain’s just had an update from one of the Fed researchers. There’s a rumor that the terrorists may have access to VX.”
Fucking hell. If that went off, they were dead men walking.
VX had been developed by the United Kingdom in the 1950s, and had been traded to their own country in exchange for information on the hydrogen bomb. The most potent nerve gas known to man, VX was completely odorless and tasteless, with a fatal dose of just ten milligrams. Its chemical composition made it nearly indestructible, and it could stick to any surface it touched for months, even in rain.
“Wasn’t it supposed to be destroyed?” Matthias asked.
“We said we did,” Jackson answered. “But so did Russia and Iraq, and so of course it still exists somewhere in the government’s basement.”
“Antidote?” Jackson barked.
“Atropine,” Jasper nearly whispered. “And diazepam for the seizures. But it has to be injected immediately upon exposure, and if you haven’t been exposed, the antidote could kill you anyway.”
They were all completely fucked.
“It’ll be aerosoled,” Tansy said. “I hate to even think like them, but that’s the most efficient way to kill thousands of people. You wouldn’t need a lot. Get it into the air and a backpack full would be enough to wipe out the city, maybe even the state or further.”
Sam was almost numb. First, he’d been surprised as hell to see the guys, then surprised again when they’d stood beside him, ready to back him up. “Our first priority,” said Jackson, “is predicting where they’ll attack. Jasper, what have we got on that from the captain?”
Jasper had slumped into a chair. “Nothing.”
“What the fuck?” Sam almost yelled it. Could the captain really be that stupid?
“It’s just a rumor, for now.” Jasper rubbed at his brow. “The Feds are looking into it, but no one’s mobilizing. No one’s changing any plans of attack.”
“Fuck that. I can run some simulations on this,” Tansy was already typing furiously on the laptop he’d just taken out of his courier bag.
“Run it, and do it yesterday,” Jackson said. “We’ll also need a human angle, someone who lives in the area.”
Matthias asked quietly, “You think they’d attack again in the same area?”
As the questions and comments began flooding the once-quiet boardroom, Sam felt his phone vibrate his pocket. He reached for it and read the screen. It was a text from Clara.
Aren’t you coming?
Holy fuck . . . He’d forgotten about Molly’s Christmas parade. The surprise of the guys showing up, then the worst surprise of his life fifteen minutes ago . . . he’d slipped right back into the workaholic from D.C., the world-saver.
And then he thought of Molly, Molly in her gaudy little Christmas outfit. Her walking in front of a float with her friends, with huge crowds of spectators, with her mom. His chest got tight with worry. So tight he could barely breathe. His palms sweated.
That was it.
Hundreds of happy families, lining the streets in tight, celebratory bunches, waving as the local stars and officials made their way down the road on colorful floats.
The Christmas parade. That was the target.
23
Clara
She had gotten there early to drop Molly off, wrestling to contain the little girl’s excitement and her nervousness for her big day. Her little goblin’s recent mood swings had been almost intolerable. Clara almost relished the time when she could just be in the parade and actually made to do something productive instead of driving her mom crazy.
It was so much quieter without her now, Clara standing alone on a curb in front of a closed-off downtown street. So quiet and calm. And in the quiet, she felt the flip side of having Molly somewhere else. She felt worry. Especially after the events of last week, Clara had grown to not trust things. She’d become more nervous about crowds and big events, but was trying so hard not to let it show to Molly. It wasn’t worth it to pass on her anxieties. It was some sort of PTSD, she was sure. She’d get over it. She’d go see someone, have it looked at someday. But for now, she needed to toughen up. She had to at least try to trust again, to not expect the worst in every situation.
But that would be a lot fucking easier if Sam were there with her.
And he knew that.
So where the hell was he?
Gripping her cell firmly in her hand, she nearly dropped it in relief when it finally rang. She answered without even looking at it, ready to ask how long it would take him get down to the parade. It was set to start in less than half an hour.
“Hey,” she said, taking her time to get right into it. She didn’t want an argument. They had been too close to those in the last twenty-four hours. There had been something different about Sam, a change since their night at the hotel. He’d been distant, preoccupied. Working, yes. Maybe this was how he’d always worked. She’d never seen him in action before.
“Clara, it’s me. It’s Vivian.”
For a second, the word, the sound, made no sense to her. She could only think of Sam, and she needed him there.
“Vivian?” she said slowly, her mind taking its time to work and remember who the hell Vivian was. “Oh,” she said. “Vivian, yeah, hi.”
“Hi, Clara, how are you feeling?”
“I feel . . . normal.” She laughed at the ridiculousness of it. It was hardly true. Despite her now complete recovery from the exposure, Clara was feeling extremely not normal today. She was a nervous fucking wreck.
“God, I feel so bad,” Vivian said. “I mean, I’m just so lucky that I didn’t come down with any of the symptoms. It’s like survivor’s guilt.”
Clara tried to laugh it off. “Well, we all survived, so, we’re all feeling guilty.”
“Yeah, but you were really sick. I just got lucky.”
Clara watched two police officers walking down the center line of the road. “Yeah,” she said.
“What it did do was it gave me some time, while you were in the hospital, to go over your case with Kurt. I felt it was the least I could do.”
“Oh, Vivian, no. You’ve already done so much. You’ve been so helpful.”
“Well, thanks,” Vivian said. But her voice was sounding a little strange now. “Um . . .”
“What is it?” Clara felt the vague sense of dread, like she was on the verge of h
earing some really bad news.
“Clara, I just came across some new information.”
“Bad information?”
“Well, just . . . information. You know Kurt was arrested again, right?”
“Yeah.”
“They had him in the downtown jail.”
“Okay.”
“Well, um, my friend is a bail bondsman. And apparently Kurt got bailed out an hour ago.”
“What?” Kurt always had an air of danger around him, even when things had gotten bad when they were still married. But now there was more. An unknown, a scary one, too. Scary, especially now with him on drugs, and his head probably all fucked up, and having just been released a few blocks away.
Vivian spoke again. “He was in the downtown jail. And I know you’re probably there with Molly, right?”
“Yeah, she’s in the parade.”
“That’s what I mean.”
“But he doesn’t know that. Right? How would he know that?”
“Well, I’m sure he doesn’t. But he’ll be in your area. On foot.”
The words sent chills down Clara’s spine. Him, on foot. Creeping around. The smell of prison and crack smoke probably still on him. And he was coming around to what was supposed to be Clara and Molly’s special day. An innocent little Christmas parade. What a fucking nightmare . . .
“So I just wanted to give you a heads-up,” Vivian said. “Okay?”
“Thanks, Vivian.”
“Are you okay?”
“Oh, yeah, I’m not too worried.” Big-time lie. “I’m just . . . I’m just thankful for the heads-up. And everything else you’ve done. You’ve been so amazing.”
“Is Sam with you?”
Clara looked around the crowd for a moment, not seeing a single familiar face. “Uh . . . Yeah.”
“Oh. Well, you’ve got nothing to worry about, then.”
“Yeah.”
24
Dark Threat - A DARC Ops Christmas Novel Page 15
