“It wasn’t too deep,” she said as she dropped the flattened round into the bathroom’s grimy trash can. “It must have been a ricochet.”
“Like you said…my lucky day.”
Rolling her eyes, Mallory reapplied disinfectant and antibiotic to both wounds and wrapped them several times in gauze. She ended with a dressing for his head.
Alton in turn cleaned and bandaged Mallory’s ear wound. They each took several ibuprofen tablets for the pain.
“Is my modeling career over?” she joked. Alton smiled in return but did not speak.
During these ministrations, David had rented a Focus and returned to pick them up. Mallory used another disposable phone to call Mark Sutton.
“I can’t stay on the phone long or whoever is chasing us will be able to triangulate in on our position,” she told him. “Let’s agree on a meeting location, and we’ll debrief you in more detail there.”
They arranged to meet at an Exxon on the outskirts of Alexandria and ended the call. On the way to their rendezvous, Alton fell into a pain-induced silence, and Mallory struck up a conversation with David.
“So you’re Secret Service now, David? I guess that’s due to your Army background?”
“Certainly it helped me get the job,” replied David, “but to be honest, the best preparation was growing up on a cattle ranch in Wyoming.”
“I don’t follow you. How did that help?”
“On a ranch, you develop a good eye for trouble. The cattle usually know something’s wrong before you do, so it helps you develop an instinct. When something ‘just doesn’t feel right,’ there’s usually a reason.”
“On Alton’s behalf as well as my own,” said Mallory, “thanks for stepping in when something wasn’t right with our situation. We owe you our lives.”
CHAPTER 64
Alexandria, Virginia
Alton, Mallory, and David arrived at the Exxon as planned. Upon seeing Sutton already there, David dropped off his passengers near the waiting car. He then left to check in with his supervisor, agreeing to stay in the vicinity for a while in case he would be needed later.
Mallory entered the front seat of Sutton’s Camry while Alton climbed into the back. As he entered, Alton made room for himself in the disorganized back seat by pushing aside empty coffee cups, a used piece of notebook paper, and several days’ worth of newspapers.
“Chief, we need your help again,” said Mallory.
“Tell me what I can do,” responded Sutton.
Mallory briefly described the events of the past twenty-four hours.
“I have two requests,” she said. “First, we need to clear out from Washington again—the chances are too great that our ‘friends’ will spot us in this area. Can you take us to Virginia Beach? It should be far enough out of the way to avoid a repeat of the Super Saver motel incident but close enough to return to Washington quickly if necessary. Once we find an internet café there, we’ll finish off our research. If you’re agreeable to this, I’ll describe my second request on the way.”
Sutton agreed with her reasoning and plan, and they were soon headed east. Alton called David to inform him of their next steps and to let him know he could return to Washington, at least for the time being. Alton thanked him again, and they ended the call.
“So, what’s request number two?” asked Sutton.
“Do you remember the four suspects I mentioned yesterday—three Briggsfield employees and an Army colonel named Drake? They’re all still on the list, but our top two candidates for having some type of illicit involvement are Jeffrey Finch and Colonel Charles Drake. Could you arrange for some type of in-person meeting with these two? We’re hoping that if we interrogate them hard enough, we can entrap them in incriminating statements, which you could take to FBI Director Helton or possibly even the president’s chief of staff.”
“It seems a little shaky to me,” said Sutton. “Do you have enough concrete evidence to startle either one of these two into divulging incriminating information? If they’ve carried out some kind of illegal scheme for as long as you say they have, they don’t strike me as the type to be easily rattled. We’d have to be sure of our facts to have any chance of succeeding.”
“That’s exactly why we want to find an internet café in Virginia Beach, Chief. We have several logical but mutually-exclusive theories: they all make sense, but they can’t all be right. I want to dig deeper into the backgrounds of our four suspects to determine which theory is true.”
“Okay,” said Sutton. “Once you’ve finished your research, use another disposable phone to tell me what you’ve found. If you can convince me that we have a strong suspect, I’ll round up him—or her—for questioning. It can’t be an arrest, of course, since there’s no crime of record, but we’ll see if we can shake our suspect off his perch.”
They had several more hours to drive and after a bit more conversation, they fell into silence. Feeling the effects of his wounds and blood loss, Alton dozed off in the back seat. Eventually he awoke, feeling sore and restless. He took more ibuprofen and picked up the newspaper. An article caught his eye: “US Drone Strike in Kabul Province Credited with Elimination of Key Al-Qaeda Leader.” The piece led Alton through a quick succession of memories as he scanned it. He read a different article concerning the Orioles’ playoff chances and another postulating on the cause of the stock market’s recent strength.
Alton surveyed the back seat. What a mess. He gathered the newspapers and old coffee cups into a pile and listlessly glanced at the notebook paper he had moved aside when entering the car. It contained information about historic landmarks. He abstractedly read down the list: “1) Washington: Lincoln Memorial, Smithsonian Institution, House White (1600 Pennsylvania Avenue), Congress Building, Jefferson Memorial…” and “2) Philadelphia: Betsy Ross house, Independence Hall, The Liberty Ball, Lincoln Field,…” Someone had apparently been making the rounds.
“Do you need this list of landmarks?” he asked Sutton.
“Naw,” replied Sutton. “My brother was visiting from California a few weeks ago and wanted to see the sights in this part of the country. I guess he just left it behind after his trip.”
Alton tossed the list on top of the trash pile. Still feeling the restlessness of fatigue and pain, he gazed out of the window until he saw the “Welcome to Virginia Beach” billboard.
As they entered Virginia Beach, Mallory and Alton spotted the perfect location for conducting their research: a “Virginia is for Internet Lovers” shop located just a block away from another nondescript motel. After dropping off Mallory and Alton at the motel, Sutton left to return to Washington, and his former passengers set out to begin their work.
CHAPTER 65
Virginia Beach, Virginia
After checking in and leaving their few belongings at Life’s a Beach motel, Mallory and Alton returned to the internet café. Mallory paid in cash, knowing it was the only way to use a computer without leaving a credit card trail directly to their location.
They still faced a challenge: used normally, the café’s computer itself would give away their geographic location the moment Mallory used it to access FBI systems. Alton’s “rabbit hole” program had been useful once, but it was a commercially-available product. Alton knew their adversaries would be waiting for them to use it again and would employ known countermeasures to track them down in a matter of minutes.
Using more advanced software still under development at Kruptos, Alton bounced the signal through multiple servers and modulated the user names, passwords, and IP addresses at each server, rendering their identity and location unknown and untraceable for at least twenty-four hours and probably longer.
“It won’t stand up forever, though,” Alton told Mallory, “so we’ll need to make good use of this time.”
Mallory set out to apply her forensic accounting background as she had never used it before, digging into the history of all four suspects. She and Alton also followed up on a few factual anomalie
s from the past week for which they did not yet have suitable explanations.
By the end of the second evening, they had pieced together a portrait of deceit and intrigue that would have been unthinkable only a few short days before.
Mallory called Dr. Roland of the CDC and asked him to use a new formula she provided to mix a small batch of Rabinil to be used as evidence. The doctor readily agreed to prepare a small canister of the mixture and ship it overnight to Mallory’s FBI office.
Mallory called Sutton on a disposable phone.
“Chief, we still don’t know all the facts, but I think we have enough information to justify bringing all four key suspects together to see if our understanding of the case will surprise one of them into a confession.”
“I know you can’t talk long or you’ll give away your location,” said Sutton, “so I have to trust that you have your facts straight. Are you sure you’re ready to round them up?”
“Pretty sure, Chief.”
“Okay—I’ll concoct some type of plausible explanation. Do you want them in the same interrogation room or separate?”
“I think gathering them in the same room would be more effective,” replied Mallory. “As you’ve told me previously, the cross-accusations which often occur in that type of environment could put additional pressure on the guilty party. Plus, a few innocent parties need to be warned.”
“Okay. Let’s plan on meeting at one p.m. tomorrow in the Rokesmith building. I’ll reserve room one-oh-six. It should be large enough to hold the entire group. Do you need a ride back to Washington?”
“No thanks, Chief,” replied Mallory. “We’re making our own arrangements for that.”
Mallory concluded her call, and Alton immediately contacted David Dunlow.
“David, can you give us a ride from Virginia Beach back to Washington?”
“Sure, Al. Just let me know where to meet.”
Alton told him their location. After agreeing on a pickup time, he added, “Don’t forget your Beretta. There’s a good chance we’ll need it.”
CHAPTER 66
Washington, DC
After returning to Washington the next morning, the trio swung by The Washingtonian Minuteman—a local gun shop in the Arlington area—to stock up on ammunition for David’s Beretta. After the Super Saver motel incident, they wanted to be well-prepared to defend themselves in the future. Luckily, the shop accepted cash for ammunition purchases, eliminating any concern of leaving a paper trail of their own.
The three friends then made a brief trip to the FBI office to collect the canister of Rabinil Dr. Roland had sent overnight. Alton and David waited nervously in the car while Mallory entered the building and picked up the package. They then proceeded to the Rokesmith building at the appointed time. Mallory and Alton entered the viewing room, a small space from which they could watch the activity of the interrogation room without being observed themselves. David remained in the parking lot near the building’s only unguarded exit.
After watching Mark Sutton usher Jeffery Finch, Tanner Perkins, Amy Newton, and finally Colonel Drake into the interrogation room, Alton and Mallory slipped unseen into the room themselves.
As the occupants settled into chairs around a long, oval conference table, Alton shouted out “kha'en,” a Middle Eastern word. He observed that although everyone was startled, one person—for a fleeting moment—reacted angrily, but then almost instantly resumed a normal expression.
“Good afternoon, everyone,” said Mallory. “I’m Mallory Wilson. I’m an Intelligence Analyst with the FBI. This is my manager, Mark Sutton,” she said, nodding in Sutton’s direction, “and this is our consultant, Alton Blackwell,” this time with a nod to Alton.
“Everyone is this room is aware of Briggsfield Pharmaceuticals’ Rabinil project. And each of you has had a reason to divert this project from its stated objective for your own purpose.” There was a stir in the room. “We’re here today to expose the truth and prevent a tragedy in the making. Mr. Blackwell will present the information we have uncovered over the last week,” said Mallory, glancing in his direction.
Alton began immediately. “Jeffery Finch is the director of Briggsfield’s R&D division. Mr. Finch, in this role, you stand to make a six-figure bonus if Rabinil is developed within budget, on-time, and within its profitability goals, correct?”
“Of course,” said Finch. “That’s true of every drug we develop, and it’s typical of the pharmaceutical industry in general. We’re paid based on creating drugs that help our customers and our shareholders.”
“But you have an additional motivation, don’t you, Mr. Finch?” continued Alton. “Your son, Sean, contracted Rabies via a bite from an infected raccoon during a camping trip. After you saw how painful and ineffective existing rabies treatments are, you made it your mission to develop a more effective vaccine. And you wanted to develop it not just as an injectable vaccine for humans, but also as an aerosol that could be used to treat wild animals over large areas.”
Finch’s lip trembled, and his lower jaw protruded slightly as he fought to regain control of his emotions. “Yes, that’s all true. But I don’t see how any of this ‘diverts the project from its stated objective,’ Mr. Blackwell. It seems to me that these facts give me a reason to pursue that stated objective all the more aggressively.”
“Aggressive. That’s a good description,” said Alton. “Does ‘aggressive’ include covering up employee illnesses caused by exposure to the experimental vaccine? Does it include the death of an innocent civilian who made the mistake of camping too close to your testing facilities? Does it include intentionally falsifying clinical trial results so your precious project isn’t derailed?”
Finch remained silent, and Alton continued. “I submit, Mr. Finch, that between your financial and emotional incentives to see this project through to completion, you abdicated your legal duties to protect the population, truthfully report clinical trial results, and disclose experimental injuries and deaths associated with this project.”
Finch said nothing, and Alton turned slightly in his chair.
“But Mr. Finch didn’t act alone in this capacity, did he, Colonel Drake?” asked Alton.
The colonel said nothing but stiffened in his chair.
“The military has an interest in developing this vaccine, too, doesn’t it?” queried Alton.
“I have no comment on your question,” replied Drake, “but surely you can appreciate that I can’t discuss any projects involving national security. That kind of discussion would render the ‘top secret’ classification of my Pentagon projects meaningless.”
“I understand, Colonel,” said Alton. “You can’t say anything. So I’ll tell you what happened. You began working with Finch, ostensibly to help Briggsfield develop an aerosol vaccine to protect coalition troops in areas with a high incidence of rabies in wild-animal populations. You agreed to provide financial support to Briggsfield for this project, and since you oversee the Pentagon’s Special Weapons Division, it was easy for you to use a portion of your budget for this purpose. But your real agenda was to develop a weaponized version of Rabinil, one that would be just as lethal to humans as to the rabies virus. You kept that little secret from everyone at Briggsfield, including Mr. Finch, with whom you met in secret at least once and probably more often.”
Finch’s face flushed, and Colonel Drake gave a visible start.
“Yes, we know you two met ‘secretly.’ We have the security surveillance video from the Blue Devil Tavern clearly showing you two together.” Alton turned to Finch. “Nice cowboy hat, by the way. I’m not sure it matches your polo, though.”
Alton turned back to Colonel Drake. “You knew that Finch might overlook the accidental exposure of a few people to the experimental vaccine, but he’d never condone the development of a biological weapon. That would contradict his whole lifesaving reason for pursuing the project in the first place. So you let Briggsfield do the heavy lifting on the project: they performed all the te
sting and took all the risk. You only had to occasionally assess progress and ensure Finch wasn’t getting cold feet as the accidental casualties mounted. Your people could examine the Rabinil test results on their own to assess them for human lethality.”
Colonel Drake said softly, “Once again, I have no comment on your statements. I’ll simply add that we live in a dangerous world. The Pentagon’s mission is to protect US interests here and abroad. To defeat rats, sometimes you have to climb down into the sewer with them. I’m willing to do my duty if it means my grandkids won’t have to live in fear.”
“Noble sentiments, Colonel,” said Alton. “‘The ends justify the means,’ huh? Sometimes the ends themselves don’t justify anything though, do they, Mr. Perkins?”
Tanner Perkins, the Briggsfield urban cowboy, redirected his attention from the ceiling to Alton with a start.
“Huh, what?” exclaimed Perkins.
“We know you’ve been struggling financially for a while. Your life has been more about planning Saturdays than 401(k)s.” Alton’s tone softened. “You grew up with a single mom. She did her best, but she had her own demons, didn’t she? The kind you can buy on the street corner. So you never really had a chance to see what an intact, responsible family looked like. Your mom’s goal in life was to have fun partying, so why shouldn’t it be yours? Only this path nearly led you to bankruptcy, didn’t it? You’d do anything to get your wheels back, wouldn’t you? Because without wheels, it’s hard to get the ‘chicks.’” Alton frowned at the word. “So it occurred to you to sell the drug’s formula to a competitor to solve your financial woes.”
“Dude…,” began Perkins.
Alton continued, “It’s probably good that you never pursued that idea beyond simply thinking about it. Considering the other people who are involved in manipulating this project for their own purposes, you and I might not be having this conversation if you had actually contacted a Briggsfield competitor. Those other people would have had to take you out of the picture so their own schemes wouldn’t be revealed. They nearly did anyway.”
Nefarious Page 18
