The Dolos Conspiracy

by Frank Perry

overboard. The forty-foot round-bottom boat seemed to wallow in the choppy swells in darkness. The frigid wind whipped the ocean, throwing spray across the open deck and sometimes brought the diesel exhaust down on them. John’s legs weren’t accustomed to the constant rocking and crashing. It was often jolting on the constantly moving deck; he gripped parts of the boat. He was wet, cold and smelled like a mixture of everything, including the lobster tanks and empty bait crates.

  About half way to the mainland, there were no lights anywhere, no references. It felt incredibly lonely as they jolted forward, seeing only the dark shadow of water walls ahead of them. It was eerie and a bit frightening to John. Gort might not need to throw him overboard; the ocean might do it for him. John also felt the onset of motion sickness again. Gort just stood behind the wheel and steered without saying a word. John knew better than to say anything. He’d said enough when Gort asked where he was going. At that moment, John figured Gort would tell him to get lost and find another way back to the coast. Instead, he just told him to throw his personal gear into the wheel house and to help load the bins of lobsters from the dock onto the boat. The silence after that was deadly.

  John was hanging from one of the rigging ropes along the side of the deck, breathing deeply, when Gort yelled above the engine and wind noise, “I hope she’s worth it, boy.”

  The look on John’s face in the dim light must have confirmed suspicions. Gort continued, “If she was worth running away from, she sure seems to have control of your leash.”

  “It’s not exactly like that, Gort.”

  “Oh no, then what is it like? Seems like you could give me a little explanation.”

  John didn’t take offense. “Gort, you and Mrs. Swensen and Mary have been wonderful and I hope I can pay you back some day. The thing … the thing is that it’s a really complex situation. Yeah, there’s a girl involved, but she’s not the reason I came here. Some serious shit was happening, and my boss told me that I was in danger, serious danger that could get me killed. I learned last night that he died, and I think he could have been murdered. I’m going back now because I think my girl might be in danger. At first, I figured she was safe, but things have changed now in a way that she could be in danger. I ran, yes, but that was just me; now it’s something more important, someone more important than just me.” He looked back over the side, realizing he’d said more than was required or even smart.

  “Boy, you sure got some stories. Fact is, I believe you. No one would make up something that weird. Who’s tryin’ to kill you?”

  John looked at Gort. “Gort, I wish I knew. All I know is that I looked at some computer files, which started this whole mess. I work for some geniuses that … I don’t know, except that, that’s just it; I don’t know anything for sure. They’re too smart for me to know much.”

  Gort had a neutral expression. “When I hear about files and people getting killed, I figure it’s got something to do that’s illegal. What’s in the files?”

  “Honestly, I don’t have a single idea. My Institute has a lot of secrets: formulas, computer programs, germs and cures, lots of stuff that could be worth a lot of money. I have no idea what I was looking at. It was all in code, but it got my boss really nervous and maybe killed when I found it. It got me here with you … something I’ll never forget or regret.” John felt a little patronizing; but, at that moment, it felt right to say it.

  The cruise in darkness on the rough ocean seemed to take forever. They needed to stay alert for other boats or merchant ships, or even floating debris. The boat jerked up and then plummeted down into deep caverns of angry black water that would be a certain grave if they fell in. Hours of pounding and constant vigilance were exhausting. It had been scary for the first hour for John, and then it just became a tedious routine, straining his muscles, clutching the boat as it pounded onward. He continued reflecting on the life this boat captain had been living for all these years, doing this same trek more than once every week, fifty-two weeks per year for decades. After three hours of cruising that felt like ten, the mainland lights shown as a dim yellow ribbon on the horizon. But cruising at ten knots against wind, waves and current meant that it was another two and a half hours until they pulled up to a dock next to “Walt’s Wholesale,” which looked like a larger version of Swensen’s back on the island. The roar of the diesel engine began changing, and they lurched fore and aft as Gort skillfully maneuvered the heavy wooden boat beside the pilings while John jumped off to tie the mooring lines around cleats on the dock above. It would be hours before his inner ear adjusted to the firmness on land, and he would be walking like a drunk for some time.

  Gort scurried up the ladder like a fresh athlete and disappeared inside the building. John would have preferred a nap. After a few minutes, one of the large overhead doors opened and lights shown as Gort came out alone to manage the crane that would lift the lobster holding tanks from the boat onto the huge wheeled carts that would be pulled into the warehouse for processing. Inside the building, bait boxes had been prepared for the return trip to Matinicus Island. The owner of “Walt’s” must have trusted Gort, because no employees were there to help or oversee the work.

  Working together, it took only fifteen minutes to offload the lobster crates and lift the bait crates back on deck. When it was done and the crates secured on deck, John imagined for a moment that he should return with Gort, but he now had to worry about Kelly. It would be a long lonely trip back for Gort and lack of sleep made the trip more dangerous. John felt like admonishing his host to spend a little time resting on the boat before venturing out to sea again in the dark, but a suggestion like that would only serve to amplify feelings about his departure. Instead, without saying anything, he removed his gear in the wheelhouse and laid them on the dock. Gort waited by the rail, “John, I know you meant well coming to the island, and I hope we did you some good.” He held out his hand, which John shook gratefully. He felt kinship with the older man despite only knowing him for a few days.

  “Gort, I’ll always be grateful and would like to see you again if it would be alright.”

  Gort reached into his pocket and brought out some folded bills. “Here’s some travelin’ money, and I want you to feel like you could come back here any time.”

  “Gort, I don’t need this. You’ve paid me in kindness that I’m already indebted for.”

  Gort refused. “John, I ain’t taken it back. You earned this; now have a careful trip and be safe.”

  They parted after John untied the lines securing the boat while Gort started the engine. Gort remained focused on the water behind the boat as he backed away, and John’s wave remained unseen. He began walking down the pier, near where he’d first parked when he arranged to fly to the island, looking back once again to see Gort turning toward the darkness of the open sea. He would never forget the Swensen’s kindness. Where did I park my car?

  Lorne

  Lorne made the trip to West Africa for two purposes. One reason, the official reason, was to meet with Abagael and visit some villages with the WHO. The other reason was to meet some mysterious “doctor” who had been talking to Lorne and the other partners over the past several months. The man claimed to be Nigerian and work for the Ministry of Health. He did not want to use his name until they met because he was investigating some matter outside of his jurisdiction.

  The “doctor” had claimed to be interested in the work GHI had done saving lives in West Africa; at least that was his claim. He was offering to pay a large sum of money to be able to set up a laboratory on the continent that could synthesize the vaccines made at GHI. He also did not want to work with the American national laboratories because bureaucratic restrictions on export technologies would prolong the process.

  All three GHI partners were skeptical. A thin layer of legitimacy could have been concealing different intentions. But the dialogue had continued for weeks during often-abbreviated phone calls be
cause the man kept talking about substantial money, although it was never quantified. As a private Institute, GHI was still functioning on its own revenues until it could be sold, and everyone would become rich. Jules had insisted that they continue to talk; “no harm in just talking.”

  Lorne and Charlie were both negative; but, when Lorne scheduled his trip, Jules insisted that he try to meet with the mystery man. Ultimately, the conversation involved Charlie as well in Lorne’s office. Jules said, “Lorne, what’s the risk? So, you tell the guy you’ll be at such-and-such location on so-and-so date and can meet with him at a specific hour. If he shows up, then there’s a chance that he’s for real. See what he really wants then we can make a decision. Nigeria exports oil, and I figure a license deal could be worth at least a million.”

  Charlie sat silently as Lorne looked to him for support. “Jules, this could be a serious mistake. We don’t know what this guy wants. Hell, he could be a terrorist, looking for a bio weapon. We can’t take the risk.”

  Charlie added, “You know, Jules, ever since Nancy died – I’m sorry to bring it up – you’ve developed a new personality. You spend all of your time working on getting rich when we sell the Institute. Have you lost sight of our original purpose in founding it? Look, I want to retire wealthy just like you, and so does Lorne, even if he doesn’t show it.” Lorne didn’t say anything, which signaled his agreement. Charlie continued. “We don’t need to get involved with this guy over there and risk it. If he’s a terrorist, we could lose everything and maybe go to jail. Plain and simple, we stop talking to him and get back to business as usual.”

  Lorne nodded in agreement, but Jules kept at it. “You know, guys, I’m the one busting his balls to find us an angel. I may be enthusiastic, but that’s just my nature. When I get involved in something, there are no half measures. Frankly, I don’t understand the problem here. We might make a million easy dollars for practically nothing. That kind of money could add ten million to our net worth if we spend it right. Matt tells me our multipliers on equity are at least an order of magnitude. It would be like putting another three plus million in each of our pockets.”

  Lorne had heard enough. “Wait, Jules. Just cool this. No one has mentioned a million dollars, and this guy has been really secretive. I don’t buy his story about working outside the ministry. He’s probably not even Nigerian. How would we ever know?”

  Jules was exasperated. “Look, you guys, I don’t know what more to say. I’m busting my ass and might as well go fishing if I don’t have your support.”

  “Jules, you’re not listening. This isn’t a personal decision. We’re all equal owners here, and we’re only interested in keeping our reputation intact. Something negative happens with this guy, we could lose everything.” Charlie was shaking after saying it.

  Lorne threw up his hands. “Okay, look, I’ll meet the guy and listen. After that we all make the decision about what to do with him.”

  Jules nodded his agreement and left the office hurriedly to stifle any further discussion that might go against him. He got his way. He was satisfied.

  Lorne flew out of Baltimore the following week in what turned out to be his last trip…ever. Of the three partners, he was in the best physical shape, working out often. He had no health problems or family history, until he died. If he even met with the Nigerian, no one, including Abagael, knew about it.

  When Lorne suggested meeting at his hotel in Guinea, the man they had codenamed Abdulah was momentarily against it but changed his tone almost immediately. They agreed to meet at the Mariador Palace Hotel in Conakry at seven PM on the day that Lorne arrived. He had been tired and needed rest but showered and went down to the bar at the appropriate hour. He carried a GHI portfolio prominently while sitting at the bar.

  Two hours later, Abagael met him there, and no mention was made of an earlier meeting. She knew nothing about it. He’d felt sick when she joined him and she insisted on taking him to the local health clinic. There were no hospitals nearby. He died about ten hours later after the flu-like symptoms multiplied in intensity, and he began bleeding internally. There was nothing at the clinic that Abagael, an experienced physician, could use to slow or stop the onslaught. She tried, but, in the end, she lost a good friend. It affected her emotionally, despite all the plagues she’d witnessed with the WHO; Lorne had been special, and she wasn’t going to abandon him until his body was safely en route back to the States.

  Two days later, a US military C17 medivac plane from Germany arrived at the Guinea capital airport and took charge of the remains. The body would fly in a special container module to a medical facility in the States equipped to isolate and examine it. Abagael couldn’t have accompanied him home, even if she had wanted. Her immediate concern was to locate the source of his infection before another major catastrophe developed.

  She called Jules once the plane had departed. “He’s being taken to Ramstein, Germany, then they will take him somewhere, possibly on the east coast, but I don’t think they know yet. I gave them your information to keep you informed.”

  “Thank you Abagael. I need to keep his wife informed, so I hope the government lets me know soon.”

  Return

  Kelly was dressed, but was not looking forward to going to the Institute. Too many questions were evolving. John was scared off, and then Lorne died. She couldn’t believe he was actually gone. Like John, she had a special working relationship with Lorne; but oddly, she thought most about their breaks in the cafeteria where he spent extra time bringing her into the culture at GHI. He was extraordinarily nice to her and probably knew she and John were an item, although he never said anything. He was a supreme gentleman. Jules was sort of the opposite, driven by ambitions that everyone could see. He wore it like a uniform. He would crush anyone who didn’t agree with him. It amazed her that the three partners were even friends. How had they ever gone into a partnership after working together for years at the government lab?

  She knew Charlie. He knew everyone. He was a solid guy with excellent medical knowledge and good management skills, but he was also a wonderful human being and not confrontational. Together, Charlie and Lorne were a good moderating force to Jules. Now, with Lorne gone, she couldn’t imagine a more imbalanced team with Jules making all the strategic decisions and Charlie following along. At least Lorne had been able to push back. Why didn’t Jules go to West Africa instead of Lorne?

  John was about two hours away from Baltimore on I-95. The sun was rising, when he pushed #1 on his phone. “Kelly, what’s going on? Do you think I should shower and come in to work? I can probably get there almost at normal time.”

  “John, I want you there with me. I want to come into work with you. If there’s any danger, then it’s best to have everyone know we’re together. I’m paranoid; Lorne’s death has shaken me.”

  “Wait for me at your place. I’ve got some clean clothes but need to take a shower after working through the last twenty-four hours. Lorne’s death scares me too, but now I’m just pissed off that he died … really pissed. It doesn’t make sense, and I want to know what’s in those files. It could all be a bunch of bad timing and coincidence, but something’s not right. I don’t know what, but something bad is going on.”

  “Maybe we should both just quit and find other jobs.”

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea, especially for your career. It’s too small a community. You’d be blamed for all kinds of shit if 4B starts to fail. Hell, you don’t think Jules or Charlie would go back to working inside the labs, do you? I’m not so worried for me ‘cuz I’m not at your level. All your peers would know you left the Institute in a lurch. With Lorne gone, the lab is your responsibility. You’d never be able to find work in another lab. They’d poison our reputations if anyone asked for a reference. We need to find out what’s in the files.”

  She was less afraid. “You said they were encrypted.”
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br />   “Yeah, there must be a way to break in. I’m guessing it’s just a password or something. Just wait there; I’ll be there in less than two hours.”

  He drove faster, even beating most of the morning rush hour traffic around Baltimore. When he arrived at his apartment, it only took ten minutes to shower, shave and get dressed, another benefit of military training. He then drove to Kelly’s place where she met him at the door with a short kiss and a much longer bear hug. They talked all the way to the Institute, mostly about John’s stay on Matinicus Island, omitting the bedroom encounter with Mary.

  They were a few minutes late, hurriedly signing in together. It was a little after nine-thirty in the morning, certainly late, but not grossly behind some of the people coming in at nine. It was the first time they had been together openly at work. Time on the job wasn’t how performance was measured at GHI, it was based on results. The lab people worked very long hours because the processes demanded it. No one really was concerned about in-and-out time. But, by coincidence, Charlie was in the lobby when they arrived.

  They might have looked guilty of something. Charlie took on a harsh demeanor that could have been faked. “Well, you two, what’s this, a car pool?”

  Kelly wasn’t going to play his game. “Hello to you, too, Charlie. Are you the hall monitor today?”

  He looked more seriously at John. “Where have you been? I haven’t seen you in the lab since Monday.”

  John was surprised that Charlie was that vigilant. “Hi, Charlie, I got in late last night. I had a hard time getting going this morning. Kelly kept calling me to hurry.” Charlie’s inferring eyes moved to her momentarily, but John continued. “I had to go away on some personal business. Lorne must have told you.”

  “No, actually, he didn’t.” John couldn’t tell if Charlie thought he was lying before he continued; “But, things got pretty frantic here a few days ago when Lorne was leaving.” He looked between them momentarily then downward, “I guess you know that he’s gone?”

  John was genuinely sorrowful,