Marlene began reading from a report. “It’s a rare form of a viral plague which was found originally on the plains of South America in the early nineteen hundreds. It has no name. It attacks the central nervous system very aggressively and shuts down the body. As soon as the body is dead, the virus also dies too, leaving no trace; and it works very fast. Our scientists believe the virus has been altered to speed up the killing rate.”
“So, how does this plague normally spread if it dies out so fast?” Loni asked.
“According to the report from the scientists,” Marlene explained. “The virus can live in a host animal for many years. The host animal is not necessarily affected by the plague. They can carry it for their whole lifetime. The virus can only jump to another animal or human by blood transfer, like when the animal and a human both have a wound which touches each other. Like after a battle.”
“Or when inserted into the body by nanobots,” Banyon pointed out.
“What animal is the host?” Haleigh asked.
“A wild horse,” Marlene replied.
“Schultz,” everyone uttered at once.
“Backup a second,” Banyon spoke. “You said the Congressman fought with the woman, right? Did he physically touch her?”
“According to the report,” Marlene reviewed. “She had several bruises on her body and a bloody nose from his punch. He has stated it was self-defense.”
“He punched her several times and yet he is still alive. This means something,” Banyon reasoned. “Why didn’t the nanobots jump to him?”
“You’re right,” Bart acknowledged. “Why isn’t he dead? What’s different about this attack?” they all pondered the question for a few minutes.
“Wait,” Loni said excitedly. “How long was the Congressman in the shower before the woman entered?”
“According to this report, he said, about five minutes.” Marlene replied.
“Didn’t Timmy say almost anything will kill the nanobots, even water?” Loni proudly offered. She often appeared to be a confused little Asian woman, but Loni was actually very smart.
“The water protected him and killed the nanobots before they could enter his body. It’s the only explanation,” Bart screamed.
“I’ll pass the information on to our scientists,” Marlene said with excitement. “We’ll have them run additional tests to prove your theory.”
“And I know how we can stop the plot to kill the illegals at the home centers,” Banyon blurted out.
“How?” Haleigh quickly asked.
“We send fire trucks to the retailers, along with the policemen,” Banyon said. “When one of the sprayers shows up, we have the fire department hose them down and the police rush in and grab the canisters. It’s a simple plan, but would work.”
“I like it, but I don’t know if there are enough fire trucks to cover all the possible target stores,” Marlene said throwing water on his proposal.
“But there must be fire hydrants near almost all of the home centers, right? Banyon reasoned. “The fire men could pretend to be testing the hydrants somewhere near where the illegals would normally stand waiting to get a day job. And any retailers who don’t have a hydrant, we can send the fire trucks.”
“My God, Colt, this could work, and no one will die,” Haleigh said with admiration.
“Wait one,” Marlene suddenly put up her finger. She turned to someone off screen and soon nodded her head. Then she returned to the monitor.
“Unexpectedly, the DoD has done what we requested,” she announced with a surprised look on her face.
“What request?” Loni asked.
“They have isolated the tapes of Vice Admiral Meyers from the time he entered the Pentagon to the time he left today. I’m going to put them on the big screen.”
Chapter Sixty-One
M
eanwhile, Bernard Schultz and Brenda were trying to fight off airsickness as they bounced along a river bed in the small plane. They were a little over halfway to their destination. The flight had been brutal so far. The pilot was known for his success rate for delivering his goods on time, not for a comfortable ride.
Bernard, like his son, had no idea his grand scheme was systematically being torn apart by Colton Banyon and his friends. As far as he knew, everything was precisely on plan. He was sure many people were dying and expected to get an update when he arrived at his factory in Laughlin.
The pilot didn’t attempt to communicate with anyone during the flight for fear of detection. There was no way to know what was really happening in the world down below. They traveled in bumpy bliss.
Bernard wasn’t the least bit worried. He believed he had anticipated every contingency. He expected the authorities to find his estate sometime tomorrow afternoon, after the killings were in full swing. He didn’t know that allowing Brenda to attend the ACLU news conference had been a big mistake which allowed Colton Banyon to identify the horse farm. Her nagging and his ego had allowed her to go.
“How much longer will it take until we get there?” Brenda called to the pilot. “My boobs hurt from all the bouncing.” She had changed from her ripped Vera Wang outfit and now wore black pants, sensible shoes and a dark silver silky blouse that constantly seemed to be in motion.
“Just don’t mess up the floor of my plane,” the pilot called back knowing his passengers were probably airsick. “We still have another couple of hours in the air.”
She then turned to Bernard to complain, but noticed the old man was writing something on a sheet of paper. “What are you doing?” She asked, wondering how he could possibly concentrate on the turbulent flight.
“I’m writing Michael’s first speech,” the old man replied cheerfully. “I want him to put all the foreigners in the country on notice. America will no longer be their benefactor. We’re not going to pay for them to have children and for them to not work under the new administration. We’ll give them one month to sell off their assets to a White American and leave the country. Any who decide to ignore the warning will be rounded up and put in a work camp. We’ll make them work off their debt and then deport them.”
“Interesting idea,” Brenda admitted. “I think I have heard about something like that happening before.
“That’s because it has been done before my dear,” he snickered. “Only at that time it was just Jews.”
“Well, you’ll have plenty of time to write your speech later,” she chastised him. “Right now, I want you to give me better directions to the treasure,” she demanded. Brenda was very concerned that Bernard would have a heart attack on the plane and she wouldn’t have the precise directions to her money. She wanted the money.
“I already gave you directions,” Bernard countered indignantly. “I handed them to you on a piece of paper.”
“Bernard, I’ve studied your directions. They are incomplete. I want better directions and a map,” she whined.
“I haven’t time right now,” he blustered and waved his hand.
“Also I want you to tell me about all the items in the crates,” she pleaded. “Do it while there is still time.”
The old man looked at her like she was crazy. “But I must write this speech right now,” Bernard said with determination. “Don’t bother me right now,” he ordered loudly.
Brenda turned and looked at Carl Catfish in the seat behind them. She saw he was sound asleep. “Maybe this will change your mind,” she seductively replied. Brenda grabbed his claw like hand and placed it on her breast.
“I’m starting to remember the details better,” he croaked with a smile.
“So, let’s both reveal some things,” she purred with innuendo.
Bernard took another piece of paper from his stack and began to draw a diagram. “Once you reach the mine shaft, go one hundred paces to the left,” he started.
But Brenda interrupted. “What if my paces are not the same as yours,” she said with worry.
“A pace is about three feet, so go three hundred feet to the left o
f the mine shaft,” Bernard patiently replied. “Even you can follow those instructions, can’t you?”
“Do you have a tape measure at the new facility I can borrow,” Brenda asked seriously, as she unbuttoned her blouse.
Chapter Sixty-Two
B
anyon’s group was seated around the conference room at Dewey & Beatem as they watched the edited tapes sent over by the DoD. They were told only Vice Admiral Meyers could be identified in the videos. For security reasons, everyone else was altered. Their faces were mosaiced.
The first video of Vice Admiral Meyers was made at 7:00 a.m. as he strolled down the hall to his office. He had lunch brought in and didn’t show his face again until 3:20 p.m. when he went to the post office in the Pentagon. He returned a few minutes later. He stayed inside his office until 7:50 p.m. that evening. The tape showed him leaving his office in a hurry and exiting the building.
The second video clearly showed Vice Admiral Meyers smiling and reentering his office at 9:00 p.m. He left again at 9:20 p.m. and casually walked down the hall like he didn’t have a care in the world.
“There are no cameras in the executive offices at the Pentagon, so we can’t see what he did in his office all day,” Marlene said off camera.
“Why would he only spend twenty minutes in his office?” Haleigh the detective asked. “He left for an hour and came back for just twenty minutes, it doesn’t make sense. Especially, since he had been inside his office for the entire day.”
“Wait,” Marlene gave a startled utter. “The Secretary of Defense has a standing reservation at a local Italian restaurant. It was for today. It was for 8:30 p.m. and it’s only a few minutes from the Pentagon.” Marlene replied. “Everybody knows about his routine,” she added.
“Coincidence, I think not,” Loni yelled at the big screen.
The scene shifted and now displayed a picture of the serving line at the cafeteria in the Pentagon. They could clearly see the Vice Admiral enter from a side door and slowly walk up to the service line, but he waited, like he was reading the menu, until no one else was in line. He then stepped to the beginning of the line. The picture only showed his head since the beginning of the service line, like at most cafeterias, was at a right angle from the actual serving area. The heavy metal serving line obstructed the view. He remained at the beginning of the line for about two minutes and then turned and walked away.
“He didn’t buy any food,” Loni noted.
“Maybe he changed his mind,” Chase said.
“Or maybe he sprayed something,” Banyon pointed out.
The next scene showed the Vice Admiral entering a bathroom only three minutes after leaving the cafeteria.
“There are no cameras in the bathrooms, for obvious reasons,” Marlene noted off screen.
“Maybe he had to go pee,” Chase said. He ate his words as the Vice Admiral hurriedly exited the bathroom only one minute later.
“This is beginning to look like he systematically visited places where many people often frequented,” Haleigh said.
“So far, it is still circumstantial,” Bart the lawyer said.
Four minutes later, the video showed that he entered another bathroom and left almost immediately. “Maybe the stalls were full,” Chase the public defender hoped.
“Or maybe he sprayed something,” Banyon speculated again.
By the time Vice Admiral Meyers left the fourth bathroom, everyone in the room was convinced he was spraying something with the nanobot spray.
The final scene showed him walking down the main hallway of the Pentagon towards the front door. He stopped at a newsstand right near the entrance and appeared to look around to see if other people were heading there. He then produced a small container from his pocket. The video clearly showed him pumping the small can and spraying the newspapers and magazines. He then turned and walked out of the building.
“He’s definitely our mass murderer,” Loni spat out.
“But what did he spray?” Haleigh asked.
“I can answer that,” Marlene announced. “He was spraying paper. The nanobots can live on paper for about twenty minutes. We discovered this while investigating the death of the Secretary of Defense and the two restaurant workers. They all touched a paper menu.”
“So, he sprayed the paper inserts on the cafeteria line and paper towels in the bathrooms too,” Banyon said.
“And anybody who touched the paper probably died,” Haleigh calculated.
“I’ll have the DoD confirm that. They would have video of the people who came into contact with the places which were sprayed. They can compare the videos to those people who have died.” Marlene noted.
“Do we have enough evidence to go to the President now?” Loni asked.
“Yes,” Bart replied through gritted teeth. “Vice Admiral Michael Meyers is going down.”
“Well,” Marlene said with a gulp. “I guess I’d better call the President and give him the bad news.”
Banyon could clearly see that Marlene was not too happy to call the President. She was up to her ears in crisis and was afraid he would divert some of her effort.
“I’ll do it, Marlene. He’ll listen to me.” Colton Banyon offered.
Chapter Sixty-Three
A
ldo and Raul were nearing Laughlin, Nevada in the hijacked executive jet. It was much faster than the prop plane which Bernard and his friends were using. They were about twenty minutes from landing when the pilot made his move.
He turned towards Raul and spoke. “What do you know about modern day aviation procedures?” During the long flight the pilot had discovered Raul was a chef and illegally in the country. He didn’t think a chef would know much about required flying protocol. This gave the resourceful pilot an edge.
“I know enough,” Raul roughly replied.
“Then you know you and your buddy are doomed,” the pilot said. “You’re never going to reach your destination.”
“What are you talking about? I have the gun and you don’t,” Raul sneered. He waved it in the air to show him.
“This plane is equipped with a sophisticated GPS tracking system,” the pilot said sincerely. “Because of that, the authorities know where the plane is at all times. This is an expensive jet airplane, Raul. The insurance companies require it. Just in case the jet is stolen, like now.”
“What are you saying?” A suddenly interested Raul demanded.
“You didn’t allow me to file a flight plan before we left,” the pilot replied.
“Tell me what you mean?”
“What I mean is right now the police know you have stolen this plane. You both will be arrested before you ever leave this plane. As soon as we land the police will surround us. Right now, you are listed as a domestic terrorist. Once they grab you, you’ll never see the light of day again.”
This clearly rattled the Mexican cook. He made omelets and baked hams. He was not equipped to deal with the authorities and especially prison.
“Turn the GPS thing off,” Raul ordered.
“I can’t,” the cunning pilot replied. “It’s hidden someplace in the jet. I don’t even know where it is hidden,” he lied.
“Then call the tower in Laughlin on the radio and tell them everything is alright,” an agitated Raul demanded.
“We left Chicago without a flight plan, remember,” the pilot told him. “You always have to file a flight plan. Without one, the authorities will investigate,” he continued. “Do you think anyone would believe me if I radioed them? They already know the plane was hijacked. They’ll think you have a gun to my head.”
“I need to talk to Aldo,” Raul said nervously and began to unbuckle his seat belt. “He’ll know what to do. He is very smart.”
“That won’t help you,” the pilot said quickly and put out his hand to stop him. “I’m more concerned about you.”
“But maybe he can do something,” Raul said in hope. His eyes were wide with a hint of terror.
“No matter
what, both of you will be captured and arrested.”
“I don’t want to be arrested,” Raul replied with a tremor in his voice.
“But I think there is a way out for you, my friend,” the pilot said quietly. There was conspiracy in his tone.
“We’re just after some money which is owed to us,” Raul lamented. “I never wanted any trouble.”
“Is the money worth the loss of your freedom, forever?”
“What can be done?” Raul asked with his palms up.
“When we land, I’ll tell the police you were kidnapped too. Aldo was the one who shot my wall, not you. They’ll let you go, I’m sure,” the pilot said soothingly.
“I don’t owe Aldo anything,” Raul cried out loud with his fists clinched. He banged them on the dashboard. “All he has done is to create trouble for me.” Raul was now thinking of himself and how to avoid going to prison.
At that point the pilot subtly pressed the automatic pilot button so he could have his hands free. “Give me the gun Raul. I’ll put in under the seat so the police won’t find it. Once the police see you are unarmed, they’ll believe you,” he promised. “And I’ll tell them you are a victim too.”
Raul looked at the gun like it was a hot potato. “I’ll need to wipe my prints off of it,” Raul slowly said.
“I’ll do it,” the pilot offered as he produced a small towel which he used to wipe sweat off his face while flying.
Raul was about to hand the gun over, but suddenly pulled it back. “How will I get back to Chicago? I have people there.”
“I’ll tell you what,” the pilot assured him. “Once you are proven innocent, I’ll fly you back in this jet,” the pilot once again lied. “Give me the gun Raul.”
Raul saw no way out but to trust the pilot. He used both hands to offer the gun like it was on a platter. With a sigh of relief the pilot took it. He looked at it for a second and started to place the towel over the gun. He switched the position of the gun under the towel so he held the barrel in his hand.
A Dubious Device: The Nanobot Terror (A Colton Banyon Mystery Book 10) Page 21
