Imminent Threat

by Jack Patterson

  “He’s a little preoccupied at the moment,” said the man who answered the phone.

  “This is a matter of national security. I suggest you get him immediately.”

  The guard sighed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Click.

  He put me on hold? He put me on hold? Are you kidding me? What kind of agents are we training in the twenty-first century? This is ridiculous.

  After about thirty seconds, the line clicked again. “Agent Osborne? Are you still there?”

  “I’m here.”

  “He’s in the middle of preparations for the Russian President’s speech here in a few minutes.”

  “That’s exactly why I’m calling, nimrod. We have credible evidence of an attack on the Senate chamber this afternoon and I need to speak to him now.”

  “He asked me to take a number and said he’d call you back when he got a chance.”

  “If I could climb through this phone, I’d put both hands around your neck and strangle you.”

  “That’s not exactly how you win friends over here, Agent Osborne. Why don’t you go ahead and give me your number so I can pass it along?”

  Osborne hung up the phone and screamed. “Imbeciles!”

  He dialed Flynn’s burner phone back.

  Flynn didn’t answer.

  CHAPTER 56

  FLYNN WALKED UP THE STEPS of the Capitol and checked his watch. President Petrov was scheduled to take the podium in less than ten minutes. It wasn’t much time to find the canister containing the virus, but it wasn’t impossible.

  Banks flashed her badge at the security guards standing in front of the entrance. He nodded at the guards before he felt a firm hand in the center of his chest.

  “Not so fast, tough guy,” a guard said. “I need to see your credentials.”

  Banks turned around. “He’s with me.”

  “I don’t care if he’s with the President of the United States—I need to see his credentials,” the guard said as he glared at Banks.

  “I’m with the press,” Flynn said.

  The guard pointed to his right. “Press entrance is that way.”

  “We don’t have time for this,” Banks said as she grabbed Flynn’s arm and pulled him up the steps.

  “I’m sorry, but you better make time unless you want to create a scene—not to mention ruin your career,” another guard said.

  “People are gonna die if we don’t get inside now,” she said.

  “Sorry. Not my problem,” the guard replied.

  Flynn put his hands up. “It’s no big deal,” he said. “I’ll take care of it, Banks.”

  He hustled to the right and found the press entrance. He flashed his credentials, drawing a suspicious eye from the woman checking her list of approved media.

  “I don’t seem to see your name on here,” the woman said.

  “Check again,” Flynn said.

  When the woman looked down, Flynn dashed toward the door to get wanded by a guard at the entrance.

  “Hey!” the woman yelled. “Come back here.”

  Flynn disappeared into the crowd and looked for Banks. He felt a tap on his shoulder.

  “Oh, there you are,” he said as he turned around.

  “Stick with me. We can’t lose any more time until we find that thug.”

  “I want him.”

  “He’s all yours,” she said as she took the stairs two at a time.

  They searched the upstairs as quickly as possible, but they weren’t finished when they heard a strong applause echoing in the hallway.

  “And now without further adieu, I present President Petrov,” said a voice over the speaker.

  Flynn stopped and looked at Banks.

  “Don’t look at me now,” she said. “Keep checking these rooms before they release the virus.”

  Before they could take another step, a hissing noise filled the hallway of the Capitol.

  “We’re too late,” Flynn said.

  CHAPTER 57

  SENATOR RYAN WATCHED the opening lines of President Petrov’s speech and smiled. His plan had gone off without a hitch. Even if they stopped the attack, he didn’t care. The damage had been done.

  He hoisted his right foot up onto his desk and leaned back in his chair.

  President Petrov looked sharp on the screen—like a real leader. His English was perfect and he used his idioms properly.

  “In this day and age, we must look to those who have experience shepherding people toward a great goal—one that serves the greater good. Gone are the days of the blind leading the blind. This is where the rubber meets the road and true leaders must rise up to embrace the challenges facing us in the twenty-first century and push through until we reach the tomorrow we’ve all dreamed of. That’s how we’ve managed to secure a bright future in Russia—the kind of future we’d like to see worldwide. In our shrinking world, it’s not good enough for one country to excel above others. We must all pull each other up, all striving for a better tomorrow.”

  If only America had a President who acted half as much like a leader as Petrov.

  He dragged one of his feet off the desk and spun around to pour himself a glass of bourbon. When he reached for the glass, it tumbled onto the floor. He picked it up and froze once he saw the country of origin etched on the glass. “Made in Korea.” Three harmless little words, yet one of them made Ryan’s stomach convulse—a physical pain brought out by an emotional one. Korea. He hurled the glass across the room. The glass shattered as it hit the bookcase.

  One of his aides knocked on the door. “Are you okay, senator?”

  Ryan limped toward the door and opened it. “I’m fine. I just need another tumbler. Think you can find me one made in China or Indonesia.

  The aide nodded. “I’ll do my best, sir.”

  Ryan staggered back to his seat and slumped into it. Then he smiled as he returned his attention to Petrov’s speech. He wanted to watch his plan unfold in all its glory—and horror.

  In a few minutes, revenge will be mine.

  CHAPTER 58

  FLYNN STUMBLED TO THE FLOOR as a handful of agents rushed past him down the hall. They stormed into a room he hadn’t cleared yet. His head felt light and dizzy. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to clear his head. It didn’t work.

  “Are you okay?” Banks asked.

  Flynn’s eyes widened. He started to say something but stopped and blinked hard.

  “Flynn?”

  He stood up and then tumbled back to the ground.

  “Do you need some help?”

  Flynn held up his hand and slowly stood up. “I’ll be all right. Let’s go.”

  Whatever was bothering him physically, started to affect him mentally. At the very least, it was knocking him off his game. Somebody, somewhere in this building was unleashing a virus that could kill everyone in the Capitol, depending on where it was placed. And with his mind spinning, he struggled to think where to look that security scouring the building hadn’t already checked.

  Then a moment of clarity—the boiler room.

  Kramer’s canister threw him off, as Flynn presumed that would be the method of delivery—seemingly harmless canisters. Perhaps they’d be disguised as cans of food or other common commodities scattered about the building. Using a timer, they’d release a gas laced with the virus. It would’ve been a brilliant plan, though one requiring months of detailed planning and plenty of foreknowledge about the day’s events. But the placement of the canisters could have tipped the hand of the conspirators. Instead, shove the virus into a ventilation system and let fate sort it all out.

  Flynn looked at Banks. “I know where he is. The boiler room. Where is it?”

  She pointed and took off running, Flynn right behind her. They rushed down two sets of steps in a stairwell and headed down a long hallway. Once they turned the corner, they skidded to a stop and watched Capitol Hill police storm into the room.

  Banks started toward the boiler room at a slow pace but increased it wit
h each step. Flynn didn’t move—not until he heard Sergeant Thatcher’s voice piercing the heavy air.

  “Get out now,” Thatcher screamed. “You’re all gonna die!”

  Flynn took off in a dead sprint and was met with a forceful forearm by one of the police on the scene once he reached the entrance to the room. Jolted by the hit, Flynn stumbled backward but maintained his balance. He peered over the handful of officers huddled around Thatcher. However, what Thatcher saw jarred him more than the blow he suffered to his chest.

  Thatcher sat on the floor, blood smeared all over his shirt and pants. A few feet away was an opened canister—along with a gun and the body of a dead Capitol Hill police officer.

  “Get up, scum,” one of the officers said as he yanked Thatcher to his feet.

  “You’re not listening to me,” Thatcher protested. “You’re as good as dead.”

  “So are you, asshole,” another officer said. “Now move, you traitor, before I shoot you right here and save the government a lot of money on your pathetic life.”

  Thatcher shuffled forward before an officer shoved him in the back. “I said move it!”

  As the officers walked him out of the room, he locked eyes with Banks. “Special Agent Banks, help me out. You know I’ve been set up! I would never do this.”

  One of the officers glared at her. “You know this piece of garbage?”

  She nodded. “I wouldn’t jump to conclusions too hastily.”

  Thatcher stopped walking, locking his legs. “They released the virus through the ventilation system. Everybody is in danger.”

  The officer pushing him forward froze. He looked back at Banks. “Is what he’s saying true?”

  Banks looked down. “I wouldn’t march him outside if I were you—not unless you want to be responsible for creating an outbreak.”

  “So, you’re saying you believe him?”

  “I don’t have to believe him—I know just how dangerous that virus is. And we’ve likely all got it by now.”

  The officer’s face turned pale. “How long do we have?”

  “Twenty-four hours, if we’re lucky.”

  The officer turned Thatcher around and pushed him back into the boiler room. “Get comfortable, men. We’re going to be here a while.”

  One of the officers looked up at Banks. “Is there anything we can do?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “Pray.”

  CHAPTER 59

  MELISSA WATSON SCRUNCHED her nose and forced the palm of her hand onto her steering wheel and held it there. She knew it wouldn’t achieve anything other than add to the cacophony of bleating horns outside the Capitol. It had been fifteen minutes since her car last had the room to move forward more than a foot.

  She rolled her window down. “C’mon, move it. Let’s go!”

  Another motorist ambled down the stagnate traffic toward her. Watson’s open window served as an invitation for conversation.

  “That won’t help,” the man said after he stopped by Watson’s car.

  “It makes me feel better,” she said. “I’ve got to get somewhere in a hurry.”

  “Good luck with that. I doubt we’ll be moving any time soon.”

  “Why? Did something happen?”

  “Oh, you haven’t heard? A biochemical attack on Capitol Hill today during the Russian president’s speech. It’s got the whole city gridlocked. It’s all over the news.”

  Watson’s eyes widened and she covered her mouth with her hand.

  “You all right, Miss?” the man asked.

  Watson rolled up her window and got out of her car. She locked it before breaking into a dead sprint toward the Capitol building.

  “Miss, don’t leave you car like this,” he called.

  Watson didn’t hear her. She knew exactly what happened—and who was behind it. And that hundreds of people were going to die if they didn’t get the antidote soon.

  In a matter of minutes, she reached a blockade that created a perimeter of two hundred yards around the Capitol building. Out of breath, she tried to flag down one of the law enforcement officers standing guard.

  “What happened here?” she asked.

  “Ma’am. You need to evacuate this area immediately. There’s a potential bio hazard in the Capitol and we’re trying to secure the area.”

  She took a deep breath, letting it out before continuing. “I know. That’s why I’m here. I’m the only one who knows how to make an antidote. I need to talk to someone in charge.”

  He waved her off and rolled his eyes. “Get outta here, lady. Save yourself while there’s still time.”

  “I’m not lying. Get me your supervisor right now.”

  He held his hands up. “Ma’am, I’m not gonna ask you again.”

  Watson nodded and walked away from the guard, moving parallel with the blockade. Then she hopped the blockade and sprinted up the Capitol steps.

  Before she advanced more than a hundred feet, one of the guards pounced on her, tackling her on the cement stairs.

  The guard slapped handcuffs on her and grabbed her arm, pulling Watson to her feet. “You’re coming with me, lady.”

  “Hopefully, we’re going to go meet someone important,” she said. “Everyone in there is going to die if you don’t let me help them.”

  Watson marched ahead of the guard until they reached a temporary command station set up about five hundred yards away from the Capitol building doors.

  “I caught this lady jumping over the barricade and babbling about how everyone inside is going to die,” the officer said to his supervisor.

  The supervisor, whose thin gray hair made Watson guess he was in his late 50s, waved off the officer. “Thanks. I’ll take it from here.” He looked at Watson and took off her handcuffs. He offered his hand. “Captain Zelinski.”

  She stuck her hand out and shook his. “Dr. Melissa Watson.”

  “So, ma’am, what do you know that we don’t?”

  “I know what’s going on in there—and if you don’t let me talk to somebody inside to find out more about what’s going on, everyone is going to die.”

  He folded his arms and leaned back, eyeing her cautiously. “Is that so? What are you—a mystic healer? I certainly wouldn’t figure you for a cold and calculating terrorist, but I’ve been wrong before.”

  “I am—was—a research scientist for The Goldstein Group. I developed an antidote for the virus that I think was released in there.”

  “How do you know a virus was released in there?”

  “It’s all over the news.”

  “Mmm, hmm.” He looked past her at the scene unfolding behind him. Incident response units roared through their barricade to get closer to the Capitol.

  She turned around and shrieked. “You can’t let them do that,” she said. “That virus is highly contagious.”

  “Yet, you sprinted straight toward the Capitol, according to my officer. It must not be that contagious.”

  “I’m immune. I almost died but had to develop an antidote to save my own life. You have to believe me.”

  “What was your name again?”

  “Dr. Melissa Watson.”

  “And what was that outfit you said you worked for?”

  She sighed. “The Goldstein Group—but they’re trying to kill me. If you contact them, don’t breathe my name. I’ll be dead before you know it.”

  He chuckled. “This is quite a tale you’re spinning, Doctor Watson.”

  “Every word of it’s true.”

  “Is it now? You claim to be a doctor, but I can’t verify that because someone might kill you. You run for the building containing this deadly virus but claim you’re immune. You’re not giving me much to work with here.”

  “Look me up on The Goldstein Group website. Look me up in the Yale database. I’m not some nut job. I want to help—in fact, I might be the only person who can help you right now.”

  “Give me a minute,” he said.

  Captain Zelinski turned toward one of his lieutenan
ts and whispered in his ear.

  Watson tapped her foot and sighed as she watched a hive of activity swirling behind the captain. She bent her ear to the conversations and tried to pick up as much as she could. Her heart sank when she overheard chatter on the scanner about the arrest of Sergeant Thatcher for the murder of one of the Capitol Hill police officers.

  She rubbed her face with both hands and sat down in a nearby chair. She knew he was set up—and if they could set Thatcher up, what would they do to her?

  Ten minutes later, one of the officers returned and tapped Zelinski on the shoulder.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  The officer leaned in and whispered something to him. Zelinski turned around, his eyes narrowed.

  “What did you say your name was again?” he asked.

  “I already told you twice before—it’s Dr. Melissa Watson.”

  “Well, Doctor Watson, you don’t appear to exist—at least according to Yale or The Goldstein Group. Do you have any identification?”

  She shook her head. “I left it in my car.”

  “Is that right? Well, at this time, I’m going have to detain you for your little stunt up there.”

  Another report cackled over the radio. Our best estimate is that we’ve got more than two thousand people quarantined in the Capitol building right now.

  “You’ve gotta let me help,” she pleaded.

  Zelinski held up his index finger as he listened to the rest of the report.

  A few people are already starting to show symptoms of something that has to pertain to the virus. Bloody noses out of nowhere, people complaining about a sharp pain in their stomach.

  Watson grabbed Zelinski’s arm. “Come on. If this is what it sounds like, everybody in there is in trouble. Besides, what’s it gonna hurt to let me have a look? Send some of your officers with me.”

  He looked at her hand gripping his bicep and then at her. “Take your hand off me.” He paused. “And I don’t repeat myself. Sit down.”

  Watson settled into her seat and glanced at the clock. Nearly an hour had already elapsed since the incident occurred. It was one hour less to create an antidote that could save everyone inside. One hour less to prevent the plans of madmen from gaining ridiculous control.