Ghosts in the Machine (A David and Martin Yerxa Thriller - Book 3)

by Ed Markham

  David asked him, “How long will it take you to confirm if rabies was also the cause of death for Garrison Pool?”

  Takagi considered. “Thirty-six hours at most. Probably closer to a day. I can draw the fluids needed before performing a full examination.”

  David nodded. “You mentioned that the incubation period could last months or even years depending on the bite site. What site could lead to death within a matter of weeks?”

  Takagi considered this. “Introducing the virus at the neck or head, especially if the dose were sufficiently large. Incubation periods lasting years result from very minor bites—in some cases bites that go unnoticed—on a person’s finger or lower leg. From there it takes the virus a long time to make its way to the central nervous system. But a large injection near the head would take very little time to do its damage.”

  Martin stood up abruptly and looked at his son. “We need to go through the guest list from that ideas conference or whatever the hell it’s called—find out if anyone else that attended feels like they have the flu.”

  David stood and thanked Takagi. But before he and his father could leave, the medical examiner raised a hand to stay them.

  “One thing I believe is worth mentioning,” he said. “I told you death is certain once the virus reaches its victim’s brain. But there is a new and radical treatment option that has demonstrated the potential to save lives even during the final stages of a rabies infection. It’s known as the Milwaukee protocol. By chemically inducing a coma and treating a rabies-infected patient with antiviral drugs, doctors have saved several people even after the onset of symptoms—something on the order of a ten percent success rate.”

  “How does the protocol do that?” David asked him.

  “The coma shuts down the brain and gives the patient’s body time to eradicate the virus. It has only been tried a handful of times, and as I said its success rate is very low. But it is an option.”

  .

  Chapter 23

  David watched as Megan Brandt, working with the room’s Bluetooth projection monitor, pulled up her spreadsheet containing the list of people who—along with Ketchner and Pool—had attended the Stanford ideas summit.

  “Beatrice’s research assistant—Derek Gould—sent this over,” she said. “I’ve checked it against a copy I received from the university.”

  David appreciated her thoroughness, and told her so. “Any discrepancies?” he asked.

  “Only the fact that he left himself and his professor off his list, though I’m assuming he just didn’t think to add himself and Beatrice as guests at their own summit. I’ve added them.” Brandt turned to regard her spreadsheet. Segments of it were shaded in green, yellow, or blue. “The green segments include guests that fit Ketchner and Pool’s profile, at least to some extent. Basically, they’re the big-wigs.”

  There were eight names shaded green, including Ketchner, Pool, and Beatrice himself.

  “We need to get ahold of all these people, starting with the greens,” Martin said. “Need to find out how they’re feeling.”

  When Brandt looked at him questioningly, David explained to her and the other assembled agents about the information he and his father had received from Fred Takagi.

  “Rabies?” Brandt looked aghast. “Are we assuming whoever did this also infected Pool?”

  “For now,” Martin said. “We’ll know for sure in a day or two.”

  “How the hell do you infect someone with rabies?” Guy Walker asked. “I thought it came from animal bites?”

  “It does come from animal bites, but it’s a virus,” David explained to him. He related what Takagi had told him and his father about infecting someone via injection, or possibly ingestion. Addressing Brandt, he gestured toward her spreadsheet and said, “Like Pop said, let’s get in touch with people who attended the conference to see how they’re feeling. Even if they’re fine, tell them to follow up with us if they start to feel unwell.”

  “Will do,” she said.

  He paused to consider for a moment, and then added, “I also want the people in the green-shaded section vaccinated against rabies. As a precaution. Go over your list again. If there’s anyone you were considering including in that group, have them vaccinated as well.”

  He had briefly considered having every person on the guest list vaccinated, but decided against it. Despite his interest in Vince Beatrice, the fact that Pool and Ketchner had both attended the summit could still just be a coincidence. It wasn’t justification to have nearly seventy people scared out of their minds about possibly being infected by the deadliest virus known to mankind.

  For a time, he and his father coordinated other new aspects of their investigation, including a close look at those Northern California facilities where someone could have gotten their hands on the rabies virus. They also spent time discussing with each other the larger thematic elements of the crimes.

  “At least from what we know right now, someone successfully abducted two of the wealthiest men in America,” Martin recapped. “We’re talking about men whose families or estates probably wouldn’t bat an eye at forking over tens of millions in ransom to get them back.”

  “I agree, money doesn’t make sense as a motive here,” David said. He looked at the room’s dry erase board, where Martin had written the message that had accompanied the Ketchner video.

  MEN GO MAD IN HERDS. BREAK FREE, AND SEE AGAIN WITH YOUR OWN EYES.

  “That message,” David said, “reminds me of the new Ketchy functionality that enraged Vince Beatrice at the summit—the idea of individualized search results. To me that sounds like a warning not to see the world through eyes Ketchy loans you.”

  Martin considered this. “And what Omar told you about the trapdoor thing—the code that allowed for some kind of search manipulation . . . you know this stuff isn’t really in my wheelhouse, but it seems related.”

  David considered this in silence.

  Talking through his train of thought, Martin said, “So someone thinks Ketchy is misleading people with information—showing them certain things while concealing others. And this someone doesn’t like it.”

  “We know Mozgov doesn’t like it,” David said. “Neither does Vince Beatrice—at least according to what Mozgov told us.”

  “I don’t think Mozgov is our guy,” Martin said. Before David could answer, his father added, “Don’t jump on your old man. I’m not ruling him out. Just giving you my gut.”

  They were interrupted by Guy Walker.

  “I just got off the phone with Mark Weissman’s people,” Walker said hurriedly. “His personal security team says he went off their grid unexpectedly around eleven this morning. They also told me he’s been sick the past two days.”

  .

  Chapter 24

  Twenty minutes later, David and Martin arrived in the lobby of Mark Weissman’s residence in downtown San Francisco. They were accompanied by Guy Walker.

  A member of Weissman’s personal security team brought the three of them to the building's security office. There, they met with two more members of Weissman’s security team and the general manager of Weissman’s building—a man named Peter Haskins.

  “Here’s what we’ve got,” Haskins said. He had a very full mustache and seemed amped up and anxious. He directed everyone’s attention to a wall-mounted monitor as he worked on a nearby laptop.

  The video that began playing was high definition and full color, and showed a kind of loading garage. There were large rolling bins that resembled the type used for hotel laundry, as well as several ramped docks.

  “What are we looking at here?” Martin asked him.

  “This is the deliveries hangar in back,” Haskins says. “It leads out to the alley behind us.”

  As Haskins spoke, David saw a man in athletic gear and a baseball cap emerge from an elevator and move through the hangar.

  “That’s Mr. Weissman,” Haskins said, stepping forward to tap the monitor unnecessarily.

&
nbsp; David could tell Haskins was excited to be working so closely with members of the FBI. He asked him, “Do we have a shot of the alley?”

  “You bet.” He turned quickly back to his laptop and brought up a new video feed.

  The agents and security personnel in the room watched Weissman walk down the alley behind the building and disappear into the city.

  Addressing a man named Moore—the member of Weissman’s security team who had first met them in the lobby of the building—David said, “What do we know?”

  Unlike Haskins, Moore seemed calm to the point of indifference—though his eyes betrayed his sense of urgency. He had the look and bearing of ex-military, David thought.

  “We know Mr. Weissman switched off his phone at 10:25 this morning,” Moore said. “Immediately after that, he dismissed the two men I had working on-site here.”

  “It’s as simple as that?” Martin asked. “He just tells your guys to split, and they split?”

  Moore shook his head. “No, sir. We have code phrases in place in the event Mr. Weissman is somehow being coerced. I can’t divulge those phrases to you, but we have one to be used if he’s under duress, and one to be used if he legitimately wants to be left alone. He used the latter, sir.”

  “Has he ever done that before?” David asked him.

  “No, sir.”

  “Did he give you any advance warning that he might be relieving you this morning?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Do you have any way of knowing who might have contacted him in the hours before he went off your grid?”

  “We have access to his business phone and email, but not his personal accounts. We looked through what we had, but didn’t see anything unusual.”

  David asked Moore to give what he and his team had to Walker. He also told Walker to coordinate a search effort with city and county police in the hopes Weissman might turn up.

  Next, he put in a call to Wes Harris. He asked him to get a warrant for Weissman’s phone and email records. “Also,” he said, “Brandt mentioned you turned up something strange in Ketchner’s cellular record?”

  “Strange is putting it mildly,” Harris said. “This is freaky stuff, David. Part of Ketchner’s cellular record is missing. Gone. And we’re talking about information that’s out there in the digital ether—part of the cloud. You can’t just wipe it away.”

  “Is it possible there was some kind of storage failure?” David asked him. “An issue with the cell provider or their network?”

  “Hypothetically. But considering I found the same kind of hole in Pool’s record, I’d say a more likely hypothetical is that Taylor Swift will walk into my office and moon me before the end of this phone call.”

  “So what’s your best guess?” Martin cut in. “Sum it up for us. Hackers? Aliens?”

  Harris sighed. “Very, very sophisticated hacking. Wizardry wouldn’t be too strong a word.”

  David recalled the way the NSA had abruptly shouldered its way into his investigation—claiming the potential of a threat from foreign entities.

  “Another thing,” Harris said. “I know you’ve been looking into Beatrice. He sent emails to both our victims.”

  “Go on,” David said.

  “The day after the ideas summit, Beatrice emailed Pool and Ketchner separately, saying he needed to talk.”

  “About what?”

  “Not specified. Beatrice sent the exact same email to each of them, and all it said was, ‘We need to talk.’ I’ve found call records indicating both Ketchner and Pool telephoned him within four hours, but there’s no telling what they discussed.”

  David hung up and was quiet for a moment as he considered the timing of Weissman’s disappearance and Beatrice’s attendance at the Carmel conference. “We need to have some people keep tabs on Vince Beatrice,” he said to his father. “Both to see what he’s up to, and for his own protection.”

  .

  Chapter 25

  Andrea Dean listened quietly as David and Martin updated her on their progress.

  “So we have Vince Beatrice’s ideas conference connecting these three men, as well as the fact that all three were feeling under the weather before their disappearances,” she summarized.

  David nodded.

  “And we’re looking at Beatrice?”

  “As a potential target,” David clarified.

  For several reasons—some he could explain, some he could only credit to intuition—he thought it wise not to divulge too much to Dean about his investigation.

  “How about the rabies virus?” she asked him.

  “We’re looking into all the ways someone could have procured it—mostly medical and animal research facilities.”

  She nodded, and then leaned forward and rested her elbows on her desk. “Sometime in the next hour the Bureau’s going to update the press on Ketchner and Pool. I believe Director Blanchard will be issuing the statement himself and fielding questions afterward.”

  “How much will he spill?” Martin asked her.

  Dean spread her hands. “I’m not sure. I assume he’ll acknowledge the discovery of Pool’s body on Stinson Beach, and that we’ve identified a cause of death for Brad Ketchner. Whether or not he discloses that it’s rabies, I can’t say.”

  “But nothing on Weissman, of course,” Martin said.

  “No. Too early. He’s only been missing for a few hours.”

  After leaving Dean’s office, Martin remarked to his son, “You were pretty vague with her.”

  “I’m unsettled by a few things. It seemed prudent not to say too much.”

  Martin smiled and squeezed his son’s shoulder playfully. “You’re usually the one giving me crap about being paranoid. Now look at you.”

  Back in the conference room with the other members of his team, David and Martin reviewed the latest their people had put together.

  “So far no one else we’ve contacted has any flu symptoms,” Brandt said. “Apart from Weissman, we’ve reached everyone who fit Ketchner and Pool’s profile, and they’re going to be vaccinated against the rabies virus today.”

  “Let’s expand that to everyone else at the summit,” David said.

  When Brandt raised her eyebrows, Martin put in, “Two’s a coincidence. Three’s a trend. Now that Weissman’s missing too, we should assume the summit has something to do with it.”

  “Better safe than sorry,” she agreed. “Also, we’ve made some progress on rabies sources. So far we’ve confirmed eight different facilities that stock it.”

  “Eight in California?”

  “No,” she said. “That’s just in San Francisco and surrounding counties.”

  “You’re kidding,” Martin said.

  “I think we’re going to be looking at around one hundred facilities state-wide. If we’re look at the whole West Coast, maybe double that number.”

  “Have you checked with Stanford?” David asked her.

  “Yes. They have it.”

  “Ask them to verify that all of their samples are intact and accounted for.”

  “Will do.”

  As Brandt and some of the other assembled agents got to work, Walker told them, “We’ve got feelers out to Weissman’s people, asking for updates if anyone sees or hears from him. Also, we notified SFPD, and heard from the chief that he received a text this morning from Weissman, asking about Pool.”

  Martin, who had been raising his trusty coffee mug to his lips, abruptly lowered it. “Asking what?” he said.

  “About a rumor he’d heard that Pool’s body had been discovered. The chief told him he couldn’t confirm, but he made it clear he couldn’t deny it either.”

  “What time was this?” David asked.

  Walker checked his notes. “Just a little after ten this morning.”

  David looked at his father, and Martin said what his son was thinking. “So the person who told Weissman to ditch his security and go offline also told him Pool was dead. Weissman checks with the police chief, finds out it
’s true, and then does as he’s told.”

  David, addressing Walker, asked, “Who knew about Pool at ten this morning?”

  Walker considered this. “Our office. Marin County Sheriff’s Department, since they’re the ones who found him. The chief and higher-ups at SFPD. Maybe that jogger who found him.”

  “And our killer,” Martin said.

  Speaking mostly to himself, David said, “Who could convince all three of these men to abandon their security teams?” Especially in Weissman’s case, after Ketchner and Pool had already turned up dead, it made no sense that he would go off on his own without protection.

  Addressing Walker, David asked, “Did Harris get a warrant to examine Weissman’s email and phone records?”

  “He’s still waiting on that, but he wrangled a court order to see the phone numbers attached to incoming and outgoing calls to Weissman’s personal cell. Nothing there, unfortunately.”

  After he had finished with Walker, David saw on the conference room’s television that the director’s public statement was being broadcast live on CNN from the Department of Justice. He asked an agent to turn up the volume on the television set, and the room grew quiet.

  FBI Director Malcolm Blanchard was seated at a table in front of reporters. He began by expressing his sadness over the death of Brad Ketchner, and to offer condolences to Mr. Ketchner’s family. To audible gasps from the press, he announced that Garrison Pool had also been found dead. “Along with state, county, and local law enforcement officials, federal investigators are doing everything they can to bring those responsible to justice.”

  After concluding his statement, which did not mention rabies but did acknowledge that authorities believed Brad Ketchner was the man in the video that had accompanied the Ketchy incident, Blanchard took questions from the media.

  The first was about the possibility that terrorist groups or radicalized individuals might be involved.