by Bobby Akart
“Denver? Really?”
“Yeah. Mom was an intern at Denver Health when she met Dad, who was a chemistry student at the University of Colorado. They were kinda like the free-bird hippies of the sixties. You know, smoking weed, free love, and all that.”
Hunter appeared befuddled. “Really? She was a hippie turned Army general? I mean—”
“Nah, I’m just kidding. Wow, you’ll be easy to work over when I really, really want something.”
Hunter scooped her up and carried her back to the bedroom. Mac kicked her legs and pounded his back with her fists, squealing in happiness.
“That’s it, missy, you’re in big trouble now!” Hunter proclaimed.
“Okay, okay. I’m just kidding. The Denver Health part was true. Mom was an intern there when I was born. She was very driven and spent a lot of hours in their Level I Trauma Center. I spent lots of hours in their day care center. That’s why I say infectious disease is in my blood.”
Hunter released his captive and slid under the covers. He turned on a light and sat up against Mac’s padded headboard.
“Come sit next to me. We need to talk,” he said, patting the bed next to his hip.
“I don’t trust you,” Mac said with a giggle.
“No, seriously,” started Hunter as Mac slid in next to him and laid her head on his chest. He took a deep breath and began. “Mac, sometimes you just have to wait for fate to make its move. For years, I never thought I could find someone like you, yet here you are and I love you more and more every day.”
“I love you, too, Hunter. You’re so serious right now.”
“How’d you like a chance to move back home?”
“I am home,” she replied. “Do you mean your place in Virginia?”
“No, Denver. Well, at least Colorado. I’ve got an offer for you.”
Mac shot up in bed and stared into Hunter’s face to study his expression. “What do you mean?”
“We, I mean the DTRA and the CIA, are operating a covert laboratory at the former CDC location in Fort Collins.”
Mac interrupted him. “They shut it down because of a lab accident and budget cuts.”
“Yeah, well, it’s open for business. Actually, it has been since within months of the closing. Mac, it’s used for biological weapon study, both for defensive and offensive purposes.”
“We’re developing biological weapons?” asked Mac.
“Not for intended use, but just, you know, to have.”
Mac folded her arms and an obvious look of disgust came over her face. The U.S. biological weapons program began in the forties under the orders of President Franklin Roosevelt. During that time, the government built up large stockpiles of biological agents, including anthrax, encephalitis, botulism, and tularemia.
Hunter continued. “As we both know, the official U.S. policy when it comes to any weapon of mass destruction is to deter the use of similar weapons by our enemies. That’s why we’re prepared to out-nuke the Russians or the Chinese. Likewise, we can unleash a deadly biological weapon attack on any nation who attempts to use it against us.”
“But the program was ended by President Nixon in ’69,” said Mac.
“That’s true, but only for offensive purposes. “The self-imposed bioweapons ban, as ratified by a number of nations, didn’t apply to biological warfare for defensive purposes.”
Mac laughed. “Semantics. My mother suspected as much, but the spooks at Langley had to keep her out of the loop because of plausible deniability. She never pursued the truth because she had her hands full most of the time.”
“In any event, the CIA uses Fort Collins for research and not production. The DTRA and Project Artemis need your help. Will you come work with me in Colorado?”
“Are you kidding me? You got me a job?”
“Yes, if you’re interested,” replied Hunter. “Mac, you need to continue your work. The country needs you.”
Mac jumped out of bed and threw on her Braves tee shirt. She danced around the room like Jennifer Beals in Flashdance.
“When do I start?” she asked.
“We leave tomorrow morning,” said Hunter.
“Wow,” said Mac as she flopped in a chair in the corner of the room. She stared at Hunter for a moment, taking in the possibilities and analyzing this big change in her life. “Wait, what about you?”
“I’ve been assigned to assist the Denver Field Office of the FBI. We’ve dispatched agents all over the country to deal with this terrorist threat head-on.”
“We’re going together? Both of us to work in Colorado, as spies—like Mr. and Mrs. Smith, Brad and Angelina?”
Hunter smiled at her and nodded his head. “Mac, listen to me. Things are happening very fast right now. We can talk about this more on the plane, but we’ve got to consider the fact that this disease could consume our country in a matter of weeks.”
For Mac, reality set in. She had been revising her epi curve throughout the day. She made notes of every reported outbreak or illness that she could remember. She scoured the Internet for more reported cases. If her original analysis was correct, the number of dead could approach a million in the coming days and explode thereafter.
“Hunter, the numbers are growing exponentially now. There could be as many as a hundred million people infected with the plague bacteria at this point and not even know it. Every human contact could put us at risk despite the lack of reported cases in America.”
“Because the incubation period is so long,” he interjected.
“Exactly, and because the administration has tamped down any announcements of the threat,” continued Mac.
“That’s about to change,” said Hunter, who got out of bed and slipped on his jeans. “ISIS has the personnel in place throughout the country. This includes operatives who have entered via the southern border and those sympathizers who’ve waited for the opportunity to join the fight.”
“Will the threat level be increased?” asked Mac.
“We’re running our intel up the proper channels, but we expect the DOD and the Joint Chiefs to suggest a severe-risk, level-red upgrade.”
“Where did you go the last few days?” asked Mac.
“There was an unidentified ship in the Gulf of Mexico, acting as a base of operations for over a hundred small vessel incursions into Texas and Mexico. We boarded the ship and found over a thousand bunks that had been occupied by jihadists. Mac, they were sent to our country.”
Mac stood and walked up to Hunter. “There’s more, isn’t there?”
“Yeah. We found a state-of-the-art laboratory and production facility. They not only reproduced the plague bacteria on board, but now it’s weaponized to be spread around any target.”
Mac sensed Hunter’s concern. “I’ll work on a vaccine and a cure. I’ll need some help out there. Will I have any staff?”
“We’ll work all of that out when we arrive,” he replied.
“Hunter, I’ll be honest. I’m afraid to go out in public, much less fly on a plane right now. I think we should wear gloves and N100 masks.”
“Tomorrow, we’ll be okay. I’ve chartered a jet. We leave Dekalb-Peachtree Airport at eight.”
Mac gave Hunter a fist bump to celebrate. “Suits me! The Olympics are about to start and I don’t want to be here when millions of people show up from all over the world, hacking and sneezing.”
“Get packed,” said Hunter with a grin. “It’ll be easier now than in the morning. And, Mac, take personal stuff too. I don’t know when we’ll be back.”
Mac thought about his ominous tone and then her revised epi cure flashed through her mind. He was probably right. They wouldn’t come back.
“In a minute, I’ve gotta call Mom and Dad and tell them the news.”
Chapter 21
Day Thirty-Seven
DTRA/CIA Facility
Fort Collins, Colorado
Situated in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains about fifty miles north of Denver, Fort Collins, Colo
rado, was founded as a military outpost along the Overland Trail, which carried travelers and the mail across the massive mountain range to the West Coast. Today, it was the home to Colorado State University and a number of military bases occupied by the United States Air Force. Over time, the town grew to a population of nearly two hundred thousand as high-tech companies like Hewlett Packard and Eastman Kodak located there.
Hunter and Mac were greeted at the North Colorado Regional Airport in nearby Loveland by a salesman from the Land Rover dealership in Denver. He presented Hunter with the keys to one of the first Series 130 Defenders made available in the States. The five-door, extra-long wheelbase was ideally suited for the Colorado terrain and the snowy winter conditions. Hunter was starting to prepare for the inevitable and knew the right set of wheels was important.
“I love the fresh air,” said Mac, who insisted upon riding with the windows and sunroof open. The temperatures were in the low seventies when they arrived, but like most summer days in Colorado, a high of eighty-six would be headed their way. The five-thousand-foot altitude tamped down the effect of the heat compared to Georgia and Virginia, where Hunter and Mac spent most of their time.
Hunter followed the GPS directions and turned onto Rampart Road, which provided them a direct view of the eastern face of the Rockies. The road entered the Foothills Campus of Colorado State University and wound its way around College Lake, home of the Fishing Derby, which raised money every semester for the American Fisheries Society.
“Is this it?” asked Mac, clearly anxious to check out the facilities. She pointed to the multibuilding Judson Harper Complex, which was part of the Colorado State campus. Hunter drove around the bend and reached a series of concrete barricades and razor wire wound atop a chain-link fence.
“Nope, this is the spot,” he replied as he slowly inched the Defender through the maze of barricades. A rolling gate appeared and two private security contractors stepped out of a white guard building with their hands resting on their weapons. Hunter handed his credentials through the window.
The first guard nodded his head and then allowed the second to take a look, who addressed Mac. “Ma’am, I’ll need to see your identification.”
Mac fumbled through her bag and provided both her Georgia driver’s license and her CDC credentials, which nobody had asked for upon her departure. Mac had debated whether she wanted to keep it as a souvenir, but then forgot about it in her handbag.
“Okay, you’re good to go. There will be an escort waiting at the front entrance. You may park your vehicle in the designated visitors’ lot until we provide you both identification and parking assignments inside.”
The guard handed their IDs back and patted the roof of the truck. As Hunter approached, Mac noticed men dressed in khaki pants and black shirts wandering around the perimeter of the building, with M4s slung over their shoulders. A guard post was constructed on the roof of the building and contained another man, who continuously surveyed the surroundings through binoculars.
“Heavy security?” asked Mac inquisitively.
“Looks like it. There’s a lot to guard inside, assuming anyone knew what was going on there.”
Mac exited the vehicle and grabbed her briefcase containing her notes, a MacBook Pro, and the burner cell phone she and Janie had been using to correspond. She decided to keep Janie in the dark for now, allowing Mac time to get settled in and assess her new position.
A woman dressed like the guards emerged through the smoked-glass front doors. She was also armed. “Good morning, Mr. Hunter and Dr. Hagan, I’m Agent Surrey with the Central Intelligence Agency. Welcome to Fort Collins.”
The three exchanged pleasantries and Agent Surrey escorted them inside. She continued. “I have received your security clearance upgrades from the DOD, and as soon as we’re done with the nickel tour, I’ll get your credentials situated and introduce you to our staff.”
“Sounds good,” said Mac. “My mother undertook her postdoctoral research fellowship here in the Bacterial Diseases Branch after her internship at Denver Health. At the time, the building was staffed with ninety epidemiologists, molecular biologists, zoologists, and technical staff.”
“Well, that’s been pared down quite a bit. There are nine people who work in the building. You’ll be the tenth, Dr. Hagan.”
Agent Surrey continued the tour. “This facility was initially created for the CDC to study vector-borne diseases transmitted by mosquitoes, ticks, and fleas.”
“In fact, in 2014, it was this facility that discovered a new disease known as the Bourbon virus,” added Mac.
“I’ve had that more than once,” joked Hunter.
“Yeah, except it was named after the county where the patient lived in Kansas, Toto,” said Mac with a laugh and a playful punch to Hunter’s chest.
“Well, then you also know the Bourbon virus led to the closure of this facility,” said the ever-stern Agent Surrey. “As you might recall, several CDC labs faced sanctions for mishandling of bioterror germs in some of its facilities, including this one. The labs were referred for additional secret federal enforcement actions six times. For reasons of national security, and per the federal bioterrorism laws, the names of the labs facing scrutiny were closely guarded by the CDC and the Department of Agriculture. After the third violation involving the Bourbon virus, this facility was offered up on the hit list by the CDC for budget cuts.”
“Wow, I had no idea,” said Mac. “You’d think I would’ve heard of that from somebody.”
Hunter added what he’d learned from Jablonik. “Things happen in the upper levels of government that the vast majority of Americans would never imagine. Even the three of us with fairly high-level security clearances are kept in the dark about the inner workings of the government. The CDC offers up a sacrificial lamb, this facility, in order to lend the appearance that it’s cutting its budget. Then the DOD and CIA, utilizing a different budget, immediately scoop it up for uses that would send the average American screaming into the night. If people knew what we do here, there would be chaos in the streets.”
“Here we are,” said Agent Surrey. She waved to a man of Indian descent who was working behind the glass of a small laboratory. He smiled and returned the wave, motioning for them to come in.
Agent Surrey handed them off to Dr. Aarav Matta, the senior member of the staff. “My office is at the front entrance. See me when you get a chance and I’ll provide you identification and brief you on our security protocols. Also, I’ll need your cell phones, please.”
Mac looked at Hunter, who shrugged in response. They provided the devices to the CIA agent. Mac suddenly felt uncomfortable. This was a new world for her. In the world of infectious diseases, the enemy was readily apparent. When dealing with the CIA, one thing was certain, you were never trusted by them.
Chapter 22
Day Thirty-Seven
DTRA/CIA Facility
Fort Collins, Colorado
Dr. Matta welcomed Mac and Hunter into his office. He was reviewing some emails from USAMRIID concerning new outbreaks in London, Paris, and Brussels. The spread of the plague bacteria was growing throughout Europe. It was just a matter of days before the first deaths were widely reported in the United States. Hunter excused himself to get their credentials squared away. Also, he needed to check in with the DTRA and contact the FBI field office in Denver to let them know he was on the ground.
“Where would you like to start?” asked Dr. Matta, a man of roughly sixty years of age, dark skinned, with black-rimmed glasses. His belly protruded slightly from his white lab coat, revealing years of being well fed by his wife, whose pictures decorated his credenza.
“With the good stuff, of course,” said Mac with a laugh, feeling much more at ease now that Agent Surrey was gone. She leaned into the amiable Dr. Matta and whispered, “The CIA makes me nervous.”
“Yeah, me too.” He joined her in the clandestine whispering. “Don’t you worry about a thing. They’re suspicious of themsel
ves. Listen, I was hoping you’d say you wanted to start with the good stuff. Let’s get started in the BSL-4.”
He led Mac down a hallway to an inconspicuous door that was marked West-4. “This leads to our version of the hot zone, which contains the virus of the day, as I call it. We all have routine projects that we’re studying, but every once in a while, we’re treated to something special, the hot new virus or bacterium.”
Dr. Matta unlocked the door and entered the foyer of their BSL-4. A large whiteboard displayed the words WELCOME TO THE HOT ZONE. Today’s bacterium of the day is Y. pestis, Madagascar strain. Enjoy! $3.99
Mac started laughing at the menu board created by Dr. Matta, which could’ve been displayed at the hostess station of any Chili’s or Applebee’s restaurant.
“Nice! I love it!” said Mac laughingly. “I love being around a great sense of humor.” She immediately thought of Janie and missed her pal from Atlanta. She’d have to call her tonight if Agent Surrey gave her back her cell phone.
Dr. Matta swiped his ID card across a sensor and then allowed his retina to be scanned. A computer-generated voice announced, “Identification confirmed. One moment, please.” A series of beeps preceded a flashing green light. Then there was a loud click as the door locks released. Dr. Matta gripped the handle and opened the door for Mac to enter first.
“You can enter with me today, but in the future you’ll perform the same security protocols.” Dr. Matta led the way into a locker room with four separate dressing areas to allow the scientists privacy while they undressed.
Mac entered the dressing area for women and stripped off her clothes. Modest by nature, she covered herself, unsure of whether the CIA had cameras everywhere. She was looking forward to this opportunity, but the CIA presence made her feel uneasy.
Inside the dressing area, shelves contained white cotton scrubs and other items typical of surgical wear like hair coverings, tape, gloves, and masks. After using the bathroom to empty her bladder, Mac put on the scrubs and then some white socks. She taped her scrub pants to her socks to make a seal.
