Imminent Threat

by Jack Patterson

  Then Flynn crumpled to the floor in pain.

  ***

  BOOKER COULD ALMOST FEEL the excitement in Finkle’s voice after he answered the phone. She wanted to revel in her journalistic triumph, but a professional victory felt hollow when death appeared imminent.

  “This is fantastic,” Finkle said. “You’re going to win an Emmy for this.”

  “If I do, I doubt I’ll be there to receive it,” she muttered.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Not the greatest, but if everything Dr. Watson told me earlier today is true, it won’t be long before everyone starts to feel the effects of the virus.”

  “Well, you can’t be sure everyone contracted it.”

  “I guess not, but they’re not letting anyone in here to find out yet—and this place is getting crazy.” She wasn’t interested in staying on this subject. “Did you get my other footage from my interview with Dr. Watson?”

  “That’s a heckuva story, but I can’t run that yet.”

  “Why not? It’s obvious that she was telling the truth.”

  “Or maybe she’s behind it all.”

  “Oh, come on, Finkle. You’re not really that cynical, are you?”

  “I’m accurate and I’m not running anything you can’t verify with multiple sources—otherwise we become TMZ. And I refuse to let that happen on my watch.”

  “You have to admit that it sounds plausible.”

  “Perhaps, but you need to get someone other than Staff Sgt. Thatcher to verify it.”

  “Why not? He’s the key to this story.”

  “Or the conniving mastermind.”

  “I’ve met him. You’ve met him. Does he strike you as a psychopath?”

  “Psychopaths never strike anyone as a psychopath until the damage is done—and sometimes not even then. I’ll happily pull some footage for you to prove my point. No one ever says, ‘Yeah, this doesn’t surprise me. My neighbor was always a scumbag.’ What do they say? ‘He was such a nice guy. I never would’ve guessed he would do anything like that.’”

  “So you’re saying this story is dead in the water?”

  “Unless you can verify it some other way, yes.”

  “Whatever—I can’t do any more work in here. I’m not feeling up to doing any more today.”

  “Can you do one more live feed for us in ten minutes?”

  She sighed. “I guess.”

  Ten minutes later, Booker went on the air describing what she’d seen earlier inside the Capitol. Her cameraman panned down the hall behind her to show some of Capitol Hill’s most prominent power players slumped against the wall, pale-faced and sickly. One senator threw up as the picture tightened in on his face.

  Once her report ended, Finkle got back on the phone with her. “Excellent work as always, Booker.”

  “You better run that interview with Dr. Watson. You’re going to wish you did once the smoke clears from this investigation.”

  “I’ll consider it.” He paused. “In the meantime, we just got some word about the antidotes since I last spoke with you.”

  “Oh? What is it?”

  “It doesn’t look like there’s going to be any—at least not enough for everyone. And there’s not enough time to test everyone, according to a report from the CDC.”

  “I feel weak,” she said, collapsing to her knees and then slumping onto the floor.

  “Booker? Booker? Booker!”

  CHAPTER 64

  ONCE WATSON AND NOAH returned to the lab at George Washington, she took his undershirt and made a tourniquet for her arm. She sucked in a breath through her teeth and scowled. With her good arm, she swept everything off one of the lab tables and pulled up a stool.

  “Are you sure you can do this?” Noah asked.

  “I don’t have a choice. Everybody on Capitol Hill is going to die if we don’t make enough antidote for them.”

  He nodded. “Well, let’s get to work.”

  They started to create the antidote from the immunogen they’d taken from the lab.

  Noah sighed. “Is this the kind of work you thought you’d be doing when you started your career in immunology?”

  Watson laughed and shook her head. “Not even close. I was more of an idealist who wanted to save the world.”

  “So what changed?”

  “Nothing really. I thought I could change the world working at The Goldstein Group. With all the resources and funding they had, I thought I might be able to create some vaccines that might eradicate some awful diseases.”

  “But that wasn’t the case?”

  She shrugged. “I probably could have if I shut up and followed orders. But I’m just not that kind of woman. What they were doing was wrong, not to mention a violation of my conscience.”

  Noah stopped and tilted his head to one side. “But aren’t there always sacrifices in the name of science?”

  She put her hands on the table and leaned forward. “True sacrifice happens when a person chooses it for himself, not when sacrifice is chosen for him. A scientist may choose to make a sacrifice in order to create something for the good of the whole, but a test subject who isn’t privy to his or her own so-called sacrifice? That’s not sacrifice. It’s not even ethical science.”

  “What would you call it then?”

  “Evil.”

  “Even if something good emerges from it?”

  “I call that redemption, the moment when evil is plucked from sure death and given a new purpose, a purpose to bring healing and hope.”

  “Is that what we’re doing here?”

  “We’re doing what we have to do. We’re morally obligated to do this.” She glanced at her arm. “Bloodied bicep and all.”

  ***

  THE SUN MADE ITS first glorious appearance on Friday morning as Watson completed production of the antidote and started preparing the syringes. She glanced at Noah, who was working on his fourth cup of coffee since they began their quest.

  “How are you doin’?” she asked.

  “I’ll be doing much better once I get some sleep.”

  “This will all be over with soon.”

  He looked up at her. “And you think they’re going to let you just waltz right up to the Capitol steps and start injecting people with this antidote?”

  “There’s only one way to find out.”

  A few minutes later, they gathered up the antidote-filled syringes and headed for the door.

  Once they drove up to the Capitol, it remained as she had left it—cordoned off and heavily guarded.

  Watson grabbed a tray of antidote syringes and looked at Noah. “Here goes nothin’.”

  As they approached the perimeter, several guards surrounded them.

  “Hands in the air, on your knees—now!” one of the guards growled.

  They complied before Watson started talking. “I have an antidote that will ensure that everyone inside lives.”

  The guards said nothing.

  “You’re going to have the deaths of every person in the Capitol on your conscience if you don’t let me in.”

  Zelinski rushed up to her. “Nice stunt, Doc.”

  “This hasn’t been a stunt. I’ve only been concerned about one thing—and that’s trying to save the people behind those doors,” she said, gesturing toward the building.

  “Hands up,” a guard said.

  She put her hands back in the air.

  “And how do you expect to do that?” Zelinski asked.

  “I’ve got the antidote.”

  He squatted down in front of her and looked her in the eyes. “And how can I trust you? I can’t even find any proof that you’re a doctor.”

  Before she could say another word, Zelinski’s radio crackled with a message.

  It’s getting pretty bad in here, sir. Quite a few senators are complaining, doubled over in pain. If what we heard is true about this virus, this is about to get really ugly.

  Watson looked up at him. “What do you have to lose?”

&n
bsp; Zelinski stood up and ran his hands through his hair as he let out a long breath. “I still need to verify your credentials—find out if you are who you say you are.”

  Watson glanced at her watch. “I don’t know how long that will take, but if you don’t let me in there soon, you’re going to be dragging out dead bodies—bodies of very important people. And I don’t think you want that.”

  He paced around for a moment. “Fine. I’ll have one of my men on the inside meet you.”

  Watson and Noah clambered to their feet. “Have some of your men get the rest of the antidote doses out of the van. And hurry—we’re running out of time.”

  CHAPTER 65

  FLYNN AWOKE IN George Washington University Hospital with tubes weaving across his body. He blinked hard twice and pushed himself up in the bed. The afternoon sun shone brightly into his room. He then looked to his right and noticed Banks seated at his bedside.

  She leaned forward and put her hands on top of his. “You’re finally awake.”

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “You passed out.”

  “So, how’d I end up here?”

  “Dr. Watson created the antidote and administered it.”

  “Did anyone die?”

  “Not so far. It looks like she made it just in time.”

  He smiled. “Well, that’s good.”

  A doctor walked into the room holding Flynn’s medical chart. “Congratulations, Mr. Flynn. Looks like you cleared the virus,” the doctor said.

  “That’s good news.”

  The doctor smiled. “Very good news, indeed.” He paused. “So, can we expect to see this conspiracy plot tackled on one of your shows in the near future?”

  Flynn furrowed his brow. “I wasn’t aware that this was a conspiracy.”

  The doctor clicked his pen a few times. “Oh, don’t play coy with me. You know this was a coordinated effort by someone to kill the Russian president—and our entire congress at the same time.”

  “We could use a purge in the Senate,” Flynn said. “But I’m not sure this was the right way to go about it.”

  “So it was a conspiracy? I knew it!”

  “I never said that,” Flynn said before he cracked a wry smile. “Just keep watching for me on television. I’m sure I’ll have a special on this sooner or later.”

  “Well, congratulations on clearing the virus. I’ll be back to check on you later,” the doctor said before exiting the room.

  Banks tilted her head and stared at him. “Look at you, Mr. Popular. Getting some special treatment from the doctor.”

  Flynn waved her off. “He was just being nice.”

  She shook her head. “No, I saw one of your books on his desk. He was clearly doing more than just being nice. You, on the other hand, are trying to be modest.”

  “Yet, it’s so difficult.”

  She pushed him playfully and looked away. “I think you’re definitely fine now.”

  “And what exactly did you mean by fine?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Do I need to call the nurse back in here to give you a sedative?”

  He chuckled before his face fell serious. Images of the Capitol flashed on the screen. “Turn that up,” he said, pointing at the television.

  Banks obliged and sat back in her chair.

  Staff Sgt. Dan Thatcher has been charged today for his role in the plot that unleashed a deadly virus in the Capitol today, nearly killing scores of U.S. Senators, the Russian president, and other high-ranking officials. Staff Sgt. Thatcher, who levied harsh allegations against the U.S. Military just days ago after he claimed his entire squad was killed in an attack by a U.S. drone, parachuted into the Potomac River on Tuesday and was supposedly in custody of the FBI. No formal statements about his whereabouts had been made until he was charged Friday morning for the biological terrorist attack on the Capitol. Officials insist that he didn’t act alone but have refused to give any clues as to who might have aided Staff Sgt. Thatcher in the attack.

  “Are you kidding me? They still think Thatcher did this?” Flynn asked.

  “I tried to talk to my boss about it, but he said the evidence was overwhelming.”

  “We need to prove that Senator Ryan was behind this.”

  Banks sighed. “So, we’re back to that again? Your editor’s strong feeling?”

  On cue, another news report started with Senator Ryan’s face filling the screen.

  This is just another reason why we need to increase our spending on defense instead of decreasing it like the current administration is calling for. These kinds of terrorist acts are unacceptable. No American should be forced to live in this country under a burden of fear. Such terrorism strikes at the very heart of the principles upon which this country was founded—and I’m not going to stand for it.

  Banks whipped her head toward Flynn. “Still think he’s the one behind all this?”

  “After seeing that, I almost guarantee it.”

  “After seeing that? Did we just watch the same clip?”

  “Where’s your investigator instinct?”

  “Where’s your reasonable doubt? Because I have plenty.”

  Flynn ripped out the tubes from his body and started getting dressed.

  “What are you doing?” Banks asked.

  “I’m going to prove you’re wrong.”

  “How exactly are you going to do that?”

  Flynn’s phone buzzed with a call from Osborne. He held up his index finger.

  “Flynn? Are you okay?” Osborne asked.

  “I am now. What’s going on?”

  “I broke a few laws and might get fired for what I just did—but I have a suspect and a smoking gun.”

  “So, who’s behind this?”

  “You won’t believe it.”

  “Try me.”

  “Senator Ryan. I’m going to arrest him now. Meet me at headquarters in an hour. I want you to be there for the questioning.”

  Flynn turned and smiled at Banks. “It’ll be my pleasure.”

  CHAPTER 66

  SENATOR RYAN REMAINED STOIC once Todd Osborne entered the interrogation room. Ryan tapped the foot of his good leg and slumped in his chair, arms folded. He leaned to the side and looked past Osborne, staring at his reflection in the glass. He knew that other agents stood behind it watching his every move. He’d been here before.

  Ryan controlled his breathing. At the moment it was one of the few things he could control along with his temper, though he doubted he’d control that much longer.

  If I last a minute, it’ll be a monumental feat.

  Osborne sat across from Ryan and didn’t say a word. He sifted through thick folders full of papers and jotted down a few notes on a yellow legal pad.

  “Would you like to call your lawyer?” Osborne asked.

  Ryan shook his head. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  Without responding, Osborne continued to situate the papers in his file folder.

  “You mind telling me what this is all about?” Ryan said.

  Osborne didn’t look up. “I was hoping you could tell me, Senator Ryan.”

  “I don’t play games.”

  Osborne looked up slowly as he pursed his lips. “Neither do I.”

  Ryan took a deep breath and looked to his left, avoiding eye contact with Osborne.

  “I suggest you start talking,” Osborne snapped.

  Ryan didn’t move.

  “Now!” Osborne banged his fist on the table and leaned in close.

  Ryan turned his gaze back toward Osborne. “I’ve got no idea what this is all about,” he said, his voice rising with each passing moment. “I was simply trying to unwind after a very trying day where I nearly lost some of my closest friends in this world when you showed up with your S.W.A.T. team like I’m some gun-toting, blood-thirsty bank robber. When we’re through here, I’m going to make sure you’re through here, too.”

  Not bad. I made it ninety seconds.

  Osborne slid the folder
aside and folded his hands. “Senator, there’s no need for idle threats.”

  Ryan’s eyes narrowed. “This isn’t a threat. This is a promise, so listen closely—I will destroy you.”

  “I doubt you’ll find anyone climbing all over themselves to help a traitor.”

  Ryan slouched and leaned back in his chair. He held up index finger. “First, I’m not a traitor. Second, you’d be surprised at the help I have.”

  Osborne shrugged. “You’d be surprised at what I know.”

  “You know nothing. You’re barely wet behind the ears.”

  “And you can barely hear. I’d say we’re even.” Osborne cracked a smile. “What I doubt you know is that we know who your help is and we’re going to flush him out.”

  Ryan laughed and shook his head. “I don’t work with amateurs. But I doubt you’ll find him anyway.”

  Osborne stood up. “Look, let’s cut the crap, Senator. There’s a giant elephant in the room—and it’s the evidence that you colluded to release a bio weapon on Capitol Hill today.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about—and quite frankly I’m insulted that you would insinuate as much.”

  “Oh, really? Is there a reason why you didn’t come to the senate chamber today?”

  “I had a meeting with one of my campaign advisors. It’s been on the books for weeks.”

  Osborne looked at his folder. “That proves nothing—other than the fact that you knew in advance this was going to happen.”

  “It doesn’t prove I had anything to do with it—especially since I didn’t.”

  Osborne held up his index finger and wagged it. “Not so fast. I did a little digging and found out that you scheduled that conference call on the day Petrov’s speech was finalized.”

  “Mere coincidence.”

  “Perhaps, but I doubt any jury would see it that way once I present all the evidence.”

  “You’re crazier than you look if you think any of this will ever reach a court room. You’re in over your head, kid.”

  “I’m not sure you know what we have, Senator.”

  Ryan waved him off and laughed. “You’ve got a lot of conjecture and a prayer. Nothing that could ever win a conviction. Quite frankly, I’m surprised anyone with any authority let you bring me in.”