Ripper egt-7

by David L. Golemon

  “Point taken.” Niles turned and watched Europa as she placed the last of the new programs into her hard drive, which was the size of the entire rear wall of the clean room. “Nothing so far?”

  “We came across a Lawrence Ambrose mentioned in a Ministry of Defense document generated in London in 1883 that mentioned a Professor Ambrose. But upon review we decided it couldn’t have been the same man. The document was never a classified one and stated that this Ambrose was a citizen of India, thus the British Empire. It made no mention of him being an American citizen. And of course he couldn’t have held both citizenship in the United Kingdom and the United States at the same time, it’s against American law. It says he was paid an initial sum of ten thousand pounds sterling for the purchase of a shipping facility in the south of London. We checked, and it was an actual company called the LJA Import Company, and their main shipping revenue was generated by importing tea.”

  Niles nodded his head, knowing the name Ambrose was not a unique name in the slightest.

  “So we moved back to this side of the Atlantic. Now Europa has started poring through diaries kept by United States military personnel during the time in question, particularly any documentation written by either George S. Patton or John J. Pershing. And I can tell by the fast movements of Europa’s arms placing and removing programs that she hasn’t hit on the name Ambrose yet. This is particularly frustrating. It’s like searching for a needle that should be big enough to find in a field of haystacks. I mean, the man must have been a brilliant scientist in order to have conducted a genetics research project seventy years before the science was even invented.”

  “I see your point,” Niles said as he watched Europa placing her programs. Niles looked down as he went deep into thought. “The man worked with flowers; at least that’s what we suspect the substance is made from. So what do we know of Ambrose and his history?”

  “Well, it’s pretty straightforward. He graduated in 1881 from Colorado State University, or as it was known then, Agricultural College of Colorado, and later Colorado A&M. CSU records state he graduated head of his class in biology. The Department of Biology said he had earned an undergraduate degree in botany. That was not a very lucrative franchise at the time unless you went into food production or placing flowers in rose competitions, which we know now that Ambrose did not.” Pete exhaled in exasperation.

  “What is it?” Niles asked.

  “From his graduation on, Europa cannot track his movements. He went to work for a small pharmaceutical concern in Dallas, Texas, where he lasted all of one year, and then poof, the man vanishes. His employment records from that time, and these were sketchy at best, state the man was impossible to work with; that he was always flying off half-cocked until he was terminated for insubordination. After that there is nothing until he shows up in Mexico, and Ambrose has only the briefest of mentions in the memoirs of George Patton.”

  “Nothing more specific from his days of legitimate employment?” Niles asked as he saw Pete starting to stress out over his not being able to find anything on Ambrose.

  “Europa, list the reasons for the Ambrose termination of employment.”

  “Compiling data,” Europa answered. It only took fifteen seconds. “Infractions listed by Killeen and Knowles Pharmaceutical Company are as follows:

  1. Theft of company property — ten thousand dollars of investment capital for laboratory equipment

  2. Insubordination

  3. Embezzlement of departmental funds

  4. The illegal import of apothecary supplies

  5. The illegal import of Macleaya microcarpa poppy native to China

  6. The illegal import of Papaver somniferum poppy native to India

  7. The destruction of company records regarding the splicing procedural on above-mentioned plants for genetic-modification purposes and the destruction of company property and records of the invention here known as phencyclidine

  “Poppies, and what in the hell is that last one?” Niles asked.

  “Europa, give us the definition of phencyclidine,” Pete asked.

  “Phenylcyclohexyl — piperidine — officially developed in Germany in 1926 and first patented in 1952 by the Parke-Davis pharmaceutical company and marketed under the brand name Sernyl.”

  “Did she understand the question?” Niles asked.

  “Europa, if this product was invented in Germany in 1926, how is this possibly related to Lawrence Ambrose in 1882 Texas?”

  “Insufficient data stated for requested information.”

  “Europa, could this, this, whatever the hell this thing is, be invented at two different times on two different continents?” Compton asked, now getting as frustrated as Pete had been a few minutes earlier.

  “Probability factor is 5–1 in favor of near simultaneous matrix construct of said formula.”

  “Okay, that’s not bad odds,” Pete said. “Europa, what is the purpose of phencyclidine?”

  “It’s original grant was for use in the anesthesiology aspects of its properties. Sernyl, after it was synthesized, was taken off the market in 1931 for its adverse hallucinogenic and neurotoxin effects. Sernyl was brought back into favor after World War II and at that time patented by Parke-Davis.”

  “Pete, what in the hell is that stuff?” Niles asked.

  “Europa, is the drug still in use today?”

  “Sernyl has been banned from pharmaceutical usage but maintains a high level of illegal use.”

  “Europa, does this drug have a street name?” Pete asked, playing a hunch.

  “Yes, it is also known in street level illegal activities as PCP or, more commonly, angel dust.”

  Pete looked over at Niles as he realized what Ambrose had synthesized forty years before it was supposed to have been invented.

  “Europa, the two poppy variations you mentioned, what are they commonly used for in today’s society?” Compton asked.

  “Foodstuffs, but the most common usage is in the manufacture of diacetylmorphine or, in 1874, as the anesthetic coded as morphine or, in today’s street terminology, heroin.”

  “Okay, he was splicing poppies and creating heroin. Jesus, what was this guy working on?” Pete asked.

  “I think Jack and the boys found out the results Ambrose was seeking in Mexico a day and a half ago.”

  Niles stood to leave. “Keep digging and find out who Ambrose was working for. He could not have financed such advance research on his own. Find them and we’ll know just what in the hell he was up to. And pass what Europa has formulated up to our CDC team in biology.”

  Before Pete could answer, Niles had left the Europa clean room.

  “I’ll tell you what he was working on, Niles my friend. He was working on a better way to control and kill people.”

  Pete was surprised when Europa commented on his statement.

  “Probability of question is 98.6 to 1.4 percent in favor of statement.”

  “Thanks. Now stop eavesdropping and get me some useful data.”

  LAS VEGAS, NEVADA

  Sarah paid the cab driver and with borrowed clothes on her back, she walked up to the front door of the house and past the two stupid-looking plastic flamingos Jack and she always teased Alice about, even though Alice always explained that they had come with the house. She saw the door a jar and there was music pouring through the open space. She adjusted her sunglasses and then tapped on the door’s frame. There was no answer. As she knocked a second time, she realized that she recognized the song being played, an old 1960s song, at least she thought it was from the sixties. She just didn’t have Jack’s memory for rock and roll. The song was called “Nights in White Satin,” by one of Jack’s favorite groups of that era, the Moody Blues. She did remember that much, and she also remembered that Jack usually played the Moody Blues when he was, well, in a blues state of mind. The song was one that his father used to play when Jack was just a baby. He had told her many times about his father’s music collection and how his mother had saved it
all for him for when he was old enough to understand the depth of his father’s passion for music. Sarah shook her head, wondering in just what state she would find Jack in. She pushed the door open and stepped into the small foyer.

  “Hello?” she called out.

  Suddenly Alice appeared in the hallway and smiled as she wiped her hands on a paint-stained cloth.

  “I was wondering when you were going to be able to break away from that slave driver Niles,” Alice said as she came forward and hugged Sarah.

  Alice Hamilton pushed Sarah away and examined her face. She reached up and removed the large sunglasses and then winced at the bruised and swollen eyes. The bandage across her nose was plastered like a white strip of war paint.

  “Oh, dear, what did those animals do to you?” she asked as she again hugged Sarah.

  “It’s nothing. I fell off my bike once and did worse to myself.”

  “I take it you fell off your bike going over a hundred miles an hour then, huh?”

  Sarah laughed and then patted Alice on the back as she was released. “So, is Jack three sheets to the wind?”

  “He started to go out that way,” Alice said as she tossed the rag she had been using over her right shoulder, “but I found him something to keep him busy.”

  Alice turned and waved for Sarah to follow. When they entered the hallway, Sarah had to smile when she saw Jack down on one knee painting the mopboard at the bottom of the wall. He cursed when his brush ran away from him and the trim and swathed a section of wall. He quickly used a rag and wiped the paint away. He started to look around.

  “That’s right, I saw that, Picasso,” Alice said with her arms crossed over her chest.

  Jack turned and saw Sarah standing beside Alice. He tossed the brush into the paint pan and then stood. Without preamble, he walked the short distance and then picked up Sarah into his arms and gave her a kiss.

  “Did you come to rescue me from the Wicked Witch of Southeast Las Vegas?”

  Sarah smiled after wincing at the kiss Jack gave her. She looked into his eyes the best she could with her own damaged ones. She could see Collins flinch at the sight, becoming angry all over again at what had happened to her. She started to say something to try to calm him when Alice cleared her throat, gesturing for them to come into the kitchen.

  As the three sat, Alice brought over a pot of coffee and turned to get three cups. “I was telling Sarah that you started out wanting to get your brain soaked in whiskey, but you decided against making a fool out of yourself.”

  Jack looked at the paint on his hands and then at Sarah. “She won’t allow me one minute to feel sorry for myself.”

  Sarah reached out and took his hand. He squeezed it and then smiled as Alice placed two cups in front of them.

  “I contacted my mom, and these two old women here concocted a plan for her to come to Las Vegas. She should be here anytime,” Jack said, looking to see if there would be a reaction.

  “Jack, I cannot meet her looking like this!” Sarah said, snatching her hand out of his.

  “Oh, it isn’t that bad, dear,” Alice said as she poured the coffee, intentionally not looking at Sarah for fear of laughing.

  “How are things coming along at the complex?” Jack asked as he took Sarah’s hand once more.

  “Jack, Colonel Farbeaux said he recognized the man who came to our rescue in Mexico two nights ago. He said he met him once when Henri was working contractually for various corporations. He says to tell you he isn’t a very nice man.”

  Collins allowed his mind to drift back to the image of the large man and his team of black-clad rescuers. How Niles had denied that it had been the president that sent them across the border. He knew something was wrong.

  “Did you pass this on to Carl?” he asked as he sipped his coffee.

  Sarah looked from Jack to Alice, who finally sat down to drink her own coffee. She couldn’t hold his eyes or those of Alice as she flashed back to her encounter with Henri Farbeaux. For a reason she could not begin to fathom she felt ashamed and guilty with the memory of the confrontation between her and Henri. And what scared her most was the briefest second of what could only be described as excitement. And that made her feel horribly guilty.

  “I … I left in kind of a hurry before I remembered to talk with Carl. I’ll call him now.”

  Jack thought about what Sarah was saying. He knew she would never have left the complex without informing Everett about a possible breech in security. How this man knew about his rescue attempt into Mexico was something Jack was worried about, now more than ever since he heard the warning from the Frenchman. And what would upset Sarah enough to make her leave so fast that she spaced out on doing her duty first?

  “How is Henri?” he asked instead, watching the swollen eyes of the woman he had loved for the past five years. What really worried him at this point was the small fact that Sarah could no longer meet his eyes.

  “He’s recovering at his normal superhuman rate, I guess,” Sarah finally answered as she reached for her own coffee.

  Alice sat quietly, but she could see Sarah was in conflict about something. The girl was scared of far more than what had happened to her in Mexico, and Alice was wondering if the Frenchman had something to do with it.

  Sarah placed her cup down and inexplicably started to cry. “You’re not resigning are you?” she asked, unable to be the trooper she wanted everyone to think she was.

  Jack looked at the top of Sarah’s head as she lowered it to wipe away the tears. He then looked up at Alice who returned his look with a raised right brow, angry that Jack was putting her through this.

  “I just need some—”

  Alice saw Jack go rigid in his chair. Sarah heard his voice stop and how quiet the kitchen became. She looked up, wiping the last tear away. She started to ask something, but Jack held up his hand.

  “Are you armed?” he asked Sarah. She shook her head, frightened at Jack’s sudden change of demeanor.

  “Kitchen drawer beneath the knife rack,” Alice said quickly as her fear also rose. After so many years with the greatest spook the United States government had ever produced, Senator Garrison Lee, Alice picked up some of his habits of knowing when something wasn’t right. And she knew Jack was just like her late Garrison.

  Collins quickly stood and started to make his way to the kitchen counter when the rear sliding glass door burst inward and the front door came crashing in. Before Jack could reach the counter, he was quickly surrounded by ten men dressed in the exact same black Nomex clothing that he had seen two nights before. They leveled small but deadly looking automatic weapons at all three people inside the kitchen. Collins stood there angry that he hadn’t caught the sound of the men getting into the house before they had time to strike.

  “Colonel Collins,” a voice asked as it entered the house from the smashed-in front door. “Please have a seat at the table as we have some matters to discuss.”

  As Collins watched, the large man from the raid into Mexico walked into the house. He wasn’t dressed like the rest, with his face covered in Nomex material. He was the same as he was that night. Jack knew he didn’t fear being identified, and that meant only one of two things: they couldn’t identify him, or the three of them wouldn’t be around to do so even if they could.

  The large man with the clean-shaven face and combed hair came into the kitchen as Jack was roughly pushed into his seat. Collins looked the man over and then settled for just eye contact.

  “Colonel, I understand your feelings. I have read your 201 file, what was available of course. I know your capabilities, so I will only state that the first bullets will not be for you, but the two lovely ladies sitting with you. So please, Colonel, no heroics tonight.”

  “You have my attention and my cooperation — for now.”

  The large man nodded his head and then looked around the kitchen. He spied the rack with the coffee cups on it and used a handkerchief from his sport jacket to place one on the counter. He stepp
ed up to the table and with kerchief in hand removed the coffee pot from the table and returned to the counter to pour himself a cup. He sipped the coffee and nodded his head toward Alice. “That’s the good stuff.”

  “What do you want?” Jack asked.

  “Colonel, we could just raid the Gold City Pawn Shop, or maybe even breach the other security gates of your … your … what do I call it, lair, complex, whatever the case may be. But I am offering you a chance to save some lives here tonight. I wish returned to me what was taken from the hacienda in Mexico two nights ago. And I am willing to negotiate its return and not allow to happen what my men are very good at making happen, as you saw the other night. If needed, I will kill everyone inside your … whatever the hell that place is … for what I came for. Perdition’s Fire must be in my hands before sunrise tomorrow. And before you ask Colonel, no, there is no dark motive here. I am here to destroy that which should have never been invented.”

  Jack didn’t respond. He just kept his eyes locked on the man leaning against the counter, sipping coffee.

  “We do have other contingencies, Colonel.” The man placed the cup he was drinking from on the counter and then stepped up to Sarah who was facing away from him. “You have weathered your treatment at the hands of that pig Guzman rather well, miss,” he said as he placed his hands on Sarah’s shoulders. He looked at Collins as he slid his hand down the front of Sarah’s chest. She winced at his touch, and Jack’s eyes went from the man’s face to his hand as it inched ever downward toward Sarah’s breast.

  “Alright, whoever you are, that’s quite enough.”

  The man stopped and looked over at the very angry Alice Hamilton.

  “Do what you came here to do and leave off with the cheap bad-guy antics. We’ve seen it all before and it hasn’t worked yet.”

  The large man took a step back with a smile. “Just who in the hell are you people?” he asked.

  No one at the table answered. Sarah bit her cut lower lip but held strong, even though for the first time in her life she didn’t feel it. As for Collins, he was now glaring at the man in front of him. He hadn’t muttered a single word.