“So, what’d you find out?” Flynn asked.
Thatcher glanced around the lobby. “Let’s not talk about it here. Plus, I’m starving. Are either of you up for an early lunch?”
“I could go for a bite to eat,” Flynn said. “Banks?”
“Why not?” she said, holding out her hand. “But I want my keys in my hands before the count of three. One … two …”
“Three,” Thatcher said as he placed them in her hand. “Happy?”
She growled and headed toward the parking lot.
As soon as everyone got inside the car, Thatcher leaned forward from the backseat. “I killed a man last night.”
Banks looked over her shoulder. “You did what?”
“It was self-defense. I mean, for Dr. Watson.”
She rubbed her face with both hands. “You better start talking.”
“Last night when I got to Dr. Watson’s apartment, the door was ajar. I entered slowly and found a man trying to wrestle her to the ground. I fought him for a few minutes—and when I realized he wasn’t going to stop and leave her alone, I engaged him in hand-to-hand combat.”
“And how’d you kill him?”
“I snapped his neck.”
“What’d you do with the body?” Flynn asked.
“We put it in a dumpster and covered it with trash.”
Banks sighed. “Did anyone see you?”
“We didn’t see anyone else, if that answers your question.”
“It doesn’t.”
“Well, I can’t be certain, but I didn’t see a soul on the streets while we were covering him up or in the stairwell when we were dragging his body down the stairs.”
She shook her head. “I’ll cover for you if I have to. But what we really want to know is what you found out was in that vial—and where it came from.”
Banks pulled out of the parking lot and looked back at Thatcher as she headed down the street.
“We haven’t found out anything yet. It’s still running in the lab—but Dr. Watson suspects it’s the same virus.” Then he grabbed Banks’ shoulders. “Stop the car!”
“What?” Banks said.
He pointed toward the other lane. “That’s Dr. Watson’s car.”
In the opposite lane, a mangled vehicle flipped on its hood smoked as sirens wailed in the distance.
Banks pulled off to the side and stopped the car. The traffic prevented them from crossing the street quickly as paramedics arrived on the scene within seconds after they stopped.
Thatcher gawked at the scene before unleashing a guttural scream.
“Melissa!”
CHAPTER 36
KRAMER ENTERED THE BLACK SEDAN like a ghost. The man seated next to him spit out some of his coffee when he realized he wasn’t alone.”
“Geez, Kramer,” the man said. “Can’t you at least give me a little warning?”
“The second someone knows I’m coming, that’s the second I fail.”
“Well, I’m not a target, so enough with the spook tactics.”
Kramer nodded and turned to stare out the window. “I need better intel if I’m going to achieve all your objectives.”
“Perhaps if you were a better shot—”
Kramer’s eyes narrowed. “I’m good, but not a god. In fact, I’m great—and you won’t find anyone else better than me. So, let’s dispense with the snide jabs.”
“Fair enough.” The man sighed. “Look, tomorrow is a very important day if we’re going to carry out this plan. Operation Threat Level Five is now active.”
“What does that mean for me?”
“A change of priorities, if you will.”
“You want me to forget about Banks and Flynn.”
“For the time being. Thatcher, however, must be dealt with swiftly.”
“From the intel you gave me, all three of them are running around together.”
“For the time being, though he escaped from their custody last night.”
Kramer’s brow furrowed. “How do you know this? You didn’t even know where they were staying last night.”
“Another operative was watching another target—and Thatcher met up with her.”
“But Thatcher got away?”
“Thatcher killed our operative. Broke his neck and left his body in a dumpster.”
“And the woman?”
“We took care of her this morning.”
Kramer chuckled. “I see what this is all about. You’re really scared of Thatcher—and you think that this is a suicide mission, so you want me to at least get him before Flynn or Banks take me out. Well, good luck to them. They’re going to need it.”
“Thatcher could bring down our entire operation if he’s not skillfully eliminated.”
“Piece of cake.”
“All that bravado of yours might get you killed.”
“It hasn’t so far.” Kramer grinned and slapped the man on the knee. “I’ll be in touch, senator.”
***
SENATOR RYAN TAPPED on the window with his cane, signaling for the driver to head toward their next destination. He picked up his phone and dialed a number.
“Time to move to Phase 2,” he said before hanging up.
CHAPTER 37
WHEN WATSON WOKE UP, Thatcher sat at her bedside, holding her hand. He smiled as she stirred. Squinting, she propped herself up with her elbows and looked around.
“What happened? Where am I?” she asked.
“Everything’s going to be all right,” Thatcher said. “You were in an accident, but you’re okay now.”
“How did you know?”
“We saw your car along the road as we were leaving.”
She glanced around the room before leaning closer to him. In a whisper, she said, “Do you think they know?”
“Who is they and what would they know?”
She scanned the room before answering. “Whoever has been watching me and sent someone to kill me last night—I think you can figure out what I’m talking about.”
Thatcher stroked her hair. “I’m not going to let these bastards hurt you—whoever they are.”
“It’s got to do with what’s in that vial. You know I can’t go back to the lab.”
“I’ll keep you safe. Don’t worry about that.”
Her face fell. “I can’t even go back to my condo.” She buried her head in her hands. “What am I going to do?”
“Before we can formulate a plan, you need to get better. That was a nasty wreck.”
“What did the doctor say?”
The door swung open and a stocky male nurse swaggered into the room. “I can answer that question for you,” he said. Offering his hand to Watson, “Nurse O’Connor.”
“Nice to meet you,” she said.
“You were in a terrible accident from what I hear, but you’re going to be fine. A few bruised ribs and maybe a concussion, but nothing a little rest and some aspirin won’t fix. The doc just wants to keep you in overnight for some observations.”
“I don’t remember anything,” she said. “All I know is that one minute I was driving and the next I’m waking up here in the hospital.”
“You’ll be fine,” O’Connor said, patting her on the leg. “Just don’t let this guy keep you up too much. You need to get some more sleep.”
Thatcher smiled and waved at the nurse, who hung up Watson’s chart at the foot of the bed before exiting the room.
Thatcher turned his attention back to her. “You really don’t remember what happened?”
“I think a car crossed the center line and struck me, but I can’t be sure. It all happened so fast.”
He leaned in close. “I don’t think this was any accident either. Someone clearly wants to stop you from producing an antidote for this virus.”
“Or they want to control it.”
Thatcher cocked his head. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I was assigned to come up with a vaccine for the virus. One of my colleagues was assigned to com
e up with an antidote.”
“So. Somebody doesn’t want you to succeed.”
“I think they do. In fact, I think the same people who asked me to do this are now the ones trying to kill me. They got at least an antidote out of this and now they want to make sure I go away for good.”
“What makes you think that?”
She sat up fully. “Some strange things have been going on recently at the lab. Unusual requests, more secrecy than I’ve even seen, unfamiliar visitors and observers in my lab. It makes me all very suspicious of what’s really going on upstairs with management.”
“Perhaps someone in The Goldstein Group is dirty.”
She shook her head. “I think it’s more than just a someone. Think about it. If you had a deadly virus on your hands but controlled the antidote and the vaccine, you’d control everything. People would give up their firstborn to get it if they caught the virus; they’d do anything for a cure.”
“But that doesn’t explain how the virus ended up in a remote corner of Afghanistan.”
“Maybe the virus makers are claiming there’s no cure—and The Goldstein Group purchased some in order to make an antidote.”
“And now they want to control it?”
“It’d definitely be a financial windfall for them.”
Thatcher frowned. “Profiting off another human’s misery? That doesn’t sound like the kind of company you ever would’ve worked for.”
She looked down and sighed. “No, it’s not what I ever envisioned for myself either. I wanted to do real good for the world instead of making antidotes to only stave off the evil that keeps popping up everywhere.”
“Well, here’s your chance,” Thatcher said.
She looked at him, brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“Give away the antidote’s recipe. Get all the major pharmaceutical companies to start producing the stuff now so we’ll have enough when the virus strikes.”
She threw her hands in the air. “I can’t do that. They’d fire me. I’d never work anywhere like The Goldstein Group again.”
“And why does that bother you so much?”
She nodded and smiled. “Good point.”
A hard knock on the door interrupted their conversation and another nurse walked in, this time stockier than the first guy.
“Where’s Nurse O’Connor?” Thatcher asked.
“Shift change,” the nurse answered.
Without another word, he started to swap out her IV fluids.
“Excuse me,” Thatcher said. “What are you doing?”
“My job,” the nurse said.
“What’s in there?”
The nurse froze and glared at him. “Are you always this pushy?”
“When it comes to my friend’s health care, you bet I am.”
The nurse sighed. “The damn Internet is ruining everything. Everybody thinks they know as much as the medical professionals because they read something on a website once.”
Thatcher stood up. “You didn’t answer my question.”
The nurse ignored him.
Thatcher’s voice rose. “I said, you didn’t answer my question.”
The nurse finished swapping out the bag and adjusted the flow of the liquid through the tube feeding into Watson’s arm.
Thatcher ripped the tube out of her arm.
“Owww!” Watson cried.
“What’d you do that for?” the nurse asked.
“Just answer the damn question—what’s in the bag?”
Without saying another word, the nurse leapt across the bed toward Thatcher, knocking him into the wall. He tried to put the soldier in a sleeper hold but his efforts were rebuffed.
An aluminum tray clanked to the ground as the two men tussled around the room. Watson fiddled for her call button but couldn’t find it.
The nurse picked up a pair of scissors off the floor and lunged at Thatcher, who narrowly avoided the sharp blade. For several more seconds, they danced around the room—the nurse waving the scissors at Thatcher, while Thatcher steered clear. When the nurse lunged toward Thatcher again, Thatcher ripped off the IV tube and quickly wrapped it around the nurse, forcing him to drop his weapon.
In control now, Thatcher spun the man around and kneed him in the back, sending him to the ground. Thatcher knelt down, reaching under the man and put him in a sleeper hold.
“Is this what you were trying to do to me?” Thatcher asked.
But Thatcher couldn’t hold it long enough. The nurse jumped to his feet and delivered a flurry of punches that sent Thatcher backward.
Watson continued feeling around her bed for the emergency call button. After a few seconds, she found it and pressed it.
The alarm didn’t faze the nurse—or the FBI special agent standing outside her room.
CHAPTER 38
“ARE YOU SURE WE’RE DOING the right thing?” Banks asked as she stared outside the window at the mass of humanity going nowhere. The early afternoon traffic on the Beltway had ground to a near standstill.
“What are you talking about?” Flynn asked.
“Leaving Thatcher and Dr. Watson at the hospital.”
He rubbed his chin and looked at the glowing taillights in front of him. “It’s your people. You trust them, right?”
She hesitated while she drummed on the steering wheel. “Yes—well—I don’t know.” She threw her hands in the air. “Who can you trust anymore?”
“My personal list seems to shrink by the day— occupational hazard, I guess.”
“I feel the same way.”
“I’m sure they’re fine. Thatcher can take care of himself.”
“I guess the real question is whether or not I trust my boss.”
Flynn turned and looked at her. “So, do you?”
She shrugged. “More so than some of the other people I work with—but that’s not saying much.”
“Life in espionage—it can eat away at your soul.”
“Or wake you up to reality.” She paused. “Nothing is as it seems.”
“That’s exactly why we need to find out what’s going on here—I’m still hung up on the fact that the Russians were trying to steal Plutonium-238 from the U.S. in a brazen heist, not to mention that there’s an assassin out there trying to kill us.”
“Isn’t that why we’re meeting your handler?” she asked.
He nodded. “I hope he’s got some answers.”
The traffic started to move again and Banks squeezed between two drivers, the latter of whom was engrossed with his phone instead of paying attention to the crawling cars around him. He leaned on his horn.
Flynn turned around and eyed the man. “Whatever happened to common courtesy?” he said as he waved. The driver gave him the middle finger salute in return. “There’s so much love in this city.”
Banks laughed and stomped on the gas again, this time sneaking between a pair of cars to get into the HOV lane, which was moving twice as fast as the other lanes.
“Nice driving,” Flynn said.
“Thanks.”
“Only problem is, we have to get off at the next exit in order to meet Osborne.”
She glared at him. “That would’ve been nice to know before now.”
“You never asked.”
The car lurched as she jammed her foot on the gas pedal and swerved to the right. A few more honks and middle-finger salutes later, Banks had successfully navigated her vehicle off the Beltway.
“Left or right?” she asked with a hint of sarcasm.
He winked at her. “Take a right.”
Flynn led her toward an abandoned warehouse a couple of miles off the highway, but not before he made her follow the protocol for shaking any tails that Osborne taught him.
“You have one paranoid handler,” Banks said after Flynn finally let her turn onto the road leading to the meeting location.
“Never know who’s watching.”
A trail of dust followed them until Banks finally parked the SUV and flashed he
r headlights four times as Flynn instructed.
A black sedan parked about fifty meters away flashed its lights back twice.
“That’s him,” Flynn said, wasting no time getting out of the car.
Osborne also got out and waited for the two agents to join him.
“Why all the secrecy all of a sudden?” Banks asked as she strode toward Osborne.
“There’s a lot more going on beneath the surface—stuff I haven’t even sorted out yet. But better safe than sorry, right?”
Flynn shook his head. “We’ve almost been sorry this week—and we most definitely haven’t been safe.”
“But you’re alive. And right now, that’s what’s most important because we’ve lost several agents already this week, good agents.”
Flynn folded his arms and tilted his head to one side. “What’s going on?”
“I’m still working on it, but from what I can gather, there’s a massive cover-up taking place among the top brass at the CIA.”
“What kind of cover-up?” Banks asked.
“I don’t know yet, but it’s not good. Spies are secretive by nature, but there are a few things leaking out.”
“Anything you can divulge to me?” Flynn asked.
Osborne shook his head. “Not yet. Not until I get confirmation.”
Flynn sighed. “Have you found out anything about the mystery man trying to kill us?”
Osborne put his index finger in the air triumphantly. “Now, that’s something I do have some information about—at least I think I do.” He reached into his car and grabbed a folder from the passenger seat. He handed it to Flynn. “I learned about a clandestine group of assassins under the name ‘Project White Out.’ It’s off the books, of course, but there is a record of at least a half-dozen former operatives and special recruits for the program that I could find information on.” He paused for a moment. “Recognize any of these men?”
Flynn chuckled. “Cory Young is a member of a black ops CIA project?” He shook his head. “Now, I am afraid for the future of this country.”
“Anyone else you recognize?” Osborne asked.
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