Nobility
Page 13
Done here, they chorused.
In the distance behind Getz, music and laughter indicated a party in progress. She heard separate and distinctive voices as clearly as if she stood in the middle of the crowd.
The world’s cascading into ruin, and he throws a party. Could there be anything more incriminating?
“We won’t keep you any longer,” she said. She abruptly walked back to the helicopter with Rhys and Simon. Quinn had already shifted and dressed. She texted Jarvis. Can you put a satellite on this location?
He answered immediately. Done.
Rhys slid the bay door open and motioned to the pilot to lift off. As the helicopter rose, she watched Getz. His gaze followed them for several seconds before he returned to his party without a backward glance.
At the base in Florida, they boarded a jet for the trip back to Washington. Jarvis had ordered the plane stocked with enough food for a regiment. They ate and settled in for the flight home. “What do we think about Getz?” she asked.
“He’s dirty,” Quinn declared. “No doubt to it.”
She thought about what they had for evidence and cast it into that great gap between knowing and proving. The sum total was definitely deficient. “You know what we have. Zip. Nada. Zilch.”
Rhys had stretched out his legs and put his attention on his shoes. Quinn wrinkled his nose like he smelled something foul and stared morosely out the window. Simon gazed into nothingness with discontent pinching the corner of his mouth.
She called Lazar and put him on speaker.
“Dreya, how are you? Everyone is well?”
“We’re fine,” she answered. “How’s it going there?”
“Nobility continues to perform exactly as I expected. Patient turnaround is nothing short of a miracle. I’ve set up a lab here in London and I’m making more formula. But the infection rate curve is collapsing. We’ve shut down Getz’s plan before it got off the ground.”
“That’s a relief to hear. Do you think he knows you’re involved? He must be baffled at his falling numbers.”
“Getz has the best in the world working for him. But I can run circles around whoever he has. I don't know if he’ll tie the two together.”
“That still leaves us with a problem.”
“Being?”
“Getz. We have no proof. I was hoping you could give us some insight into his mind.” She held her breath, praying. He answered quickly, sounding like the old Lazar.
“Getz’s strength is his weakness. His power, that which protects him, leads him to believe he’s above the law. Somewhere, he will arrogantly possess the evidence you need for an arrest.”
“And what do you base this on?”
“My doctorate in psychology and my one-time conversation with him, which was enough to make an assessment. That combined with his public posturing shows me he’s a classic driven megalomaniac.”
She heard the arrogance in his tone and couldn’t help but grin, appreciating Lazar’s self-ascribed greatness, a greatness that had created Nobility. “What evidence would he have?”
He paused briefly and she could hear him tapping his chin.
“I suggest the blister pack.”
“Well, he knows we have one. I used it as a prompt for a facial read. Won’t he destroy what he has?”
“Even though he knows you have one and could come looking for more, his arrogance makes him believe you can’t touch him. The blister pack is a small object he can hold in his hand and know the power he yields is capable of remaking the world as he desires. Look for the 22-b blister pack.”
“That’s a good idea, doc,” Simon said. “You staying safe?”
“Yes, I’m no longer on the front lines, having retreated to my laboratory to make Nobility while my protection team stands guard. The good news is the numbers continue to be positive.”
A quick gasp of relief shot through Dreya. “Between you and Nobility, we’ve avoided a global catastrophe.”
“If you hadn’t thrown yourself on that vial, it would have taken weeks, maybe months for us to get to this point flattening the curve. Don't leave your actions out. I couldn’t have done this without you and the team. You saved millions of lives, Dreya.”
“I appreciate the praise, but the job’s not done until Getz is stopped.”
“Let me know what else I can do,” he said.
She terminated the call. A rush of bumpy emotion filled the cabin. “Don't worry, we’ll get him. Like Lazar says, his strength is his weakness.”
Their military flight landed in Washington and a helicopter dropped them off at the compound. “I got the first shower,” Dreya called out as she walked into her room. From a distance she heard Simon shout, “I’m ordering hamburgers. I need to sink my teeth into some meat.”
She stepped into the shower and lifted her face to the hot water. It had been a long day flying down and back, but she had all she needed to know about Getz.
I don't care how much money he has, we’re going to stop him.
Dinner was a quiet affair. She brushed her teeth and prepared for bed. “Everyone with me,” she shouted from her room. She crawled into bed, taking the middle spot even though only Rhys appeared.
He dropped his pants and crawled naked into bed with her. She nestled into him, grateful for his strong arms around her. While being the pack alpha was a challenge, it was becoming more second nature and less of a difficulty. Conversely, along with that strength she’d developed a new Nobility driven desire to be held like a child.
She relaxed into his arms and lay her head on his chest, never noticing when she fell asleep. Dreams took her quickly with open arms, swirling images, and hushed conversations. She walked a dreamscape. On the horizon, no bodies lay stacked, no panic-filled hearts beat wildly, no dark clouds hung oppressively low.
A hand touched her shoulder, shaking her. Her eyes shot open. Rhys stood over her, clothed and bearing a cup of coffee. “Time to get up.”
She blinked, groggy, but took the cup. Warm against her hands, she sipped gratefully. “What’s happened?”
“Simon and Quinn are already in the shower. I let you sleep in a little.”
She sat up and pushed the hair from her eyes. The coffee was firing her body with much needed caffeine. “Tell me.” She was up and walking in the bathroom when his lack of response stopped her. He grinned with that arrogant assurance she loved, inciting a rush of excitement. “What?” Do we have him?
He nodded, his grin intensifying. “Gertie called. She’s waiting for us.”
They made it to Gertie’s in record time, arriving just after sunrise. As they approached, Dreya gazed across the many rows of identical houses, grateful for the space and privacy they had at the compound.
Rhys parked and they quietly walked to the door which was opened as they arrived and they marched straight in.
Gertie, a small woman with silver hair and bright eyes shook their hands. Breathless, she pulled them into the next room. “Come see what I have.”
They spread out slowly around the living room, amazed with mouths falling open at Gertie’s display of evidence trails.
“I found him. It just took a bit to sort it all out.”
An army of colored 5X7 cards was attached via a web of yarn strings. Hundreds of cards.
Dreya stepped aside to change her view. There were strings and cards attached to lamps, to the arms of the couch, even hanging down from the ceiling light. A thread of cards snaked up the leg of a chair and was attached by a string that jumped over the mantle to a side table. “How?”
“Well, I’ll give you the short story. It boils down to this piece right here.” She held a card that hung by a string from the ceiling light fixture.
Before Gertie opened her mouth further, Dreya held a hand up and cut her off. This diminutive woman holding a card with a red circle was ready to take down one of the most powerful men on the planet. Dreya wanted to catch this moment for her memory. Got you, you bastard. “Please, give me a minute,
” she told Gertie.
She stepped away and called Lazar. “Hey, I need you to come home right away. We’re going after Getz.” Next, she called Jarvis. “We have grounds for a warrant, but POTUS and a judge have to come see it.” She returned to Gertie who still held her card bearing a red circle. Dreya said to Rhys. “We can’t move all this.”
He nodded. “Yeah, that doesn’t look likely.”
Gertie followed the conversation, looking from one to the other. Dreya said, “Sorry for the interruption, but Gertie, you need to save your story for the President.”
Gertie’s mouth dropped open and she turned to Rhys. “The President is going to come here?” He nodded and she brought her hands to her cheeks and looked ready to levitate.
“You know you won’t be able to stay here after this. You’re going to miss out on the next cat and dog fight,” Rhys said.
She shrugged one shoulder. “That’s okay, I was getting bored here. I want a place at the beach this time,” she said.
His eyes lit with general mischief. “I just so happen to know of an island coming available soon.”
11
With the President coming, Gertie prepared coffee, a pot of tea, and set out cookies. She nervously adjusted the spread and asked, “How does it look?”
Dreya put one arm around her shoulder and squeezed. “Everything looks fine; you look fine. The important part is what’s in there.” She nodded to the display in the next room.
Gertie rocked back on her feet. “Oh yeah. It’s there. All the way down to his dirty belly-button lint.”
Jarvis arrived. He took one glance at Gertie’s web and his mouth edged open as a frown formed. “Just wait,” Dreya said. “She’s going to explain all of it.”
Soon the President’s security detail arrived and came in to sweep. Each one paused when they saw the string and card display before chuckling and moving on.
“They’re all gonna laugh until they realize what I got here,” Gertie defended.
“Don't you worry. You just explain it all to the President. He’ll have to have a judge of some kind to verify the thread of evidence before he issues the search warrant.”
Another cluster of men entered, all serious looking and packing an arsenal. Next came the President followed by Chief Justice Robertson.
A spike of anxiety jumped from Gertie. “Oh my,” she said. “Look who’s here.” She wiped her hands on her pants and glanced at Dreya.
Dreya patted Gertie’s shoulder. “You got this, Gertie.”
Gertie jutted her chin out. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do.”
The President approached. Gertie held out her hand. “Thank you for coming all the way out to the boonies, Mr. President.”
Chief Justice Robertson stepped up and also shook Gertie’s hand. “Your work with the—”
Gertie cut him off. “Oh, sir, we don't say his name.”
“Ah.” He nodded. “Calling up the devil; you’re probably right. So, what do you have here? This looks quite impressive.” He gazed across the mass of cards and string.
“First,” Gertie began, “the blue cards are major holdings, the pink cards are shell companies, the yellow cards are shadow companies, and the green cards are inheritance properties and the white cards are names.”
She stepped over to a white board with ‘Dulles’ in big letters. “I began at the bottom with the inciting events, that being the release of the virus at Dulles.” She pointed at a string of cards. “From there we branch into the two men involved with the hit-and-run, their government issued vehicle and the attachments that grow from there.”
More cards in another thread. “From the other side of this event, that being Harper’s arrival at Dulles, I backtracked and discovered that when he went through security at Shenandoah, their carry-on baggage x-ray machine was inoperable for the brief window of Harper’s passage. That event created this thread.”
She moved to the mantle where a string of cards stretched. “Who would have known the machine was down? Who could have made that happen? Who would be involved in that? All these questions led me to ask, who could have arranged this? These questions produced this thread.”
Another string reached for the ceiling. “Going further back in time from the Dulles event, I dug into Harper’s message board and in tracing each post discovered this domino of holding and shell companies that go—” She pointed up. “All the way to the top.”
Moving on, she approached another thread. “Coming back to the two men involved in the hit-and-run, this is from their vehicle used to run down Harper. Their attorneys are paid from this company, which has a collection of connections here.” This thread stretched toward the ceiling.
“And then there’s the ingredients for the 22-b blister pack and that created another thread pertaining to ingredients and manufacturing.”
Hands on hips, she stepped back. “At this point I was a little stymied. There seemed to be a general drift, a pattern if you will. But the one common thread was eluding me so I went back to the basics: I followed the money. Where there’s money, there’s someone or some group of people in charge of the purse strings.”
She walked to a row of colored cards that traveled toward the ceiling. “There’s a lot of crossover of people in this pool the higher you go, but as they weave together, a select list of names become dominant.” She paused to glance over her audience. “Gentlemen, at this point, I have to warn you, they’re some very prominent names here.”
The President pointed from himself to the Chief Justice. “Are either one of us on the list?”
“Oh, no sir,” Gertie said.
“Then carry on,” he urged.
“I, too, am curious to see where this goes,” the Chief Justice added.
“Well then,” Gertie hurried on. “I distilled the list down to a single name.” She stepped to the one card with the red circle sticker.
“Rhys gave me a name, but as the connections played themselves out, I found I didn’t have to look for that name, it kept showing up. She removed the red circle. “Richard Getz.”
The President and the Chief Justice entered the web of cards and information. On their own, they went from thread to thread, reading the cards and sometimes nodding, other times grunting or snorting in disbelief.
Dreya and the team stood with Gertie as the two men inspected the minutiae of data that Gertie had assembled. After twenty minutes, the President said, “Gertie, mind if I get a cup of that coffee and a couple cookies?”
“I’ll take tea, if you will,” Robertson said remotely as he stared at one of the cards. “Huh,” he grunted before picking up the next card in the thread.
Several cups and many cookies later, the President joined Dreya and Gertie on the couch. “The cookies were delicious, Gertie.” He refrained from saying more, seeming to wait for Robertson.
The Chief Justice read the last card and stepped to the center of the web. He gazed over it all, quietly processing. Dreya picked up a jumble of emotions from him. Simmering anger, disgust, shock. His face read like a child’s; he was appalled.
But do we have enough for a search warrant.
A bad warrant would void the case. Any pursuit of justice hinged on the validity of the search warrant and the adherence to its parameters.
“This is an impressive display of bounty hunting, Gertie.”
Tension shot through the room. A ‘but’ was obviously coming.
Is he going to shut this down? Simon asked.
Quiet. Let’s hear what he has to say, she countered.
Robertson exhaled deeply. “The justice system sets the rules, and for justice to prevail, we must tread carefully. Considering who’s involved, our evidence must withstand the defensive weight that will certainly come to bear.”
A collective breath was held. Gertie leaned forward, as did the President. Anticipation stretched like piano wire. Robertson visibly measured his next words.
“We certainly don't want these people to escape.”
Dreya remembered Lazar’s words about Getz. In her history with Lazar, other than the dragon shifter murders he covered up on Draco, she’d learned to trust him. She pulled the evidence bag from her pocket. “This, sir. This is what we’re looking for.”
He took the bag and examined the blister pack. “Genocide from this, 22-b.” He passed it back. “I’ll issue the search warrant for this 22-b item and I pray you find it. What property are you searching?”
“His island in the Caribbean. He’s there now with, I assume, others from Gertie’s short list. Make sure you include access to his personal safe,” she added.
“You’ve got it, agent,” Robertson said.
A flurry of activity ensued. Men swarmed the room as the President and Chief Justice left, while others assisted in collecting Gertie. She waved and blew a kiss as U.S. Marshals from Witness Security escorted her out to her next home.
Jarvis stopped on his way out the door. “I have Lazar coming in on a military flight. He’s going to meet us at the airport. Go home, get your gear and I’ll see you there. We can all sleep on the way down; I want to wake Getz up bright and early.”
“You’re coming with us?” Quinn asked.
“Of course, I’m coming. I’m representing the FBI on a high-profile case. You people have done some fine work in a short period of time and I’m going to make sure your backs are covered.” He tugged on his belt and rolled his shoulders. “And you can bet I wouldn’t miss this for the world. If there’s one thing that riles me up, it’s entitled folks thinking they’re above the law.”
* * *
When Dreya boarded the aircraft, Lazar was already on board. She sat next to him. “You look beat.” She scrutinized his face, seeing an opportunity within his exhaustion to get a clean read.
Even exhausted, he looks young. I swear he’s going back in time.