by Frank Perry
he doing in my parking lot, shooting a gun in our direction?” Kelly was shaking.
The Detective had a serious expression and didn’t mince words. “He was trying to kill you.”
Kelly reacted with shock, “Me! Why, me?” Her lips trembled. She’d never hurt anyone in her life. She’d wanted a career that would help people, help all of mankind. Why would anyone want to hurt her?
“That’s why I wanted you to come in today, both of you. Mr. Shipman is talking pretty freely; he’s admitting everything.”
John asked, “So, what’s this about, Detective. Why does he want to hurt Kelly?”
“I was hoping you could help me with the answer. Mr. Shipman has admitted taking money to shoot both of you, Mr. Hollis.” John was weighing whether to tell her about Lorne’s warning, but it didn’t point anywhere particularly. He would need to find out what put him on someone’s hit list before any of it made sense. If he could solve that mystery, then he would tell the police. She continued. “Shipman signed a confession. He actually seems grateful to have been caught. He’s like some of the career criminals in our prisons. They want to get caught. Prison life means three meals and a bed. The idea of freedom scares them. If they don’t have a family or loved ones to take them in, life on the streets terrifies them. They actually want to be inside. Mr. Shipman is like that, although he’s never been behind bars before that we can tell, and he wasn’t actually trying to get caught this time. But since he was captured, he’s been relaxed and seems grateful.”
John wanted a better answer. “That doesn’t explain anything. He had to have a motive, a reason?”
She looked at him, wondering if he was telling her everything. “His motive was money, simple as that. But that isn’t why you both should be concerned -- someone wanted you dead and was willing to pay serious money to hire a killer.”
John was confused. “That guy was a pro hit man? He just looked like a derelict to me, some scumbag from under the trestles. If he’s a hit man, then I’m Santa Claus.”
She would have smiled if it weren’t so serious. “He was desperate. Probably has an alcohol or drug problem that caused him to lose everything. He made up a fictitious background and ran an ad in Soldier of Fortune, so someone hired him. Someone, a man he thinks, paid him five thousand dollars to kill you. I don’t know who was more amateurish: the would-be assassin or the client. It’s the client we want now; he’s still out there and could try this again with someone with real experience next time. Neither of them met, so he doesn’t know who hired him.”
John glanced at Kelly momentarily, who remained silent. “Look, Detective. I can’t be sure, but it could be work related. One of the owners of the lab where we work told me that I might be in danger a couple weeks ago. He never said why, but it could have something to do with some information I discovered accidentally.” He glanced at Kelly briefly. “Since we both work together and have a relationship outside of work, Kelly could also be in danger.”
McAlister was taking detailed notes. “What was the information?”
“That’s just it, I don’t know.”
“Okay, who’s the owner you mentioned? I can talk to him and probably get him to open up since he could be an accessory to attempted murder.”
“He’s dead.”
Victor
He wasn’t feeling well. He was scared. He’d seen Dr. Lorne get sick and knew that he’d died the same day that the WHO team was taking him to his hotel. Riding his bicycle again, he was going to the open market to buy a fish for his mother to cook, but it became harder for him to maintain balance or to see the road. His vision blurred. He stopped just as his stomach purged. A few hundred meters further along, he stopped in the boiling heat again, this time to rest. It was early in the afternoon, and he was a young man. If anyone had seen him, he would be embarrassed to admit that he had to rest, lying on the dirt. But, he also lived in a region that suffered the deadliest virus outbreaks in the world, and he knew how the diseases could spread between people. Everyone knew, and people would not come to his aid.
He lay back, crawling on his back and elbows, farther away from the edge of the road in case a bus rumbled past. His bike was still lying close to the roadside and could be crushed by vehicles, but he was too sick to worry about it. He imagined sitting near Dr. Lorne inside the truck for hours going to Kambia and then returning. He laid on the hard crusted earth as gusty wind blew fine red dust over him. His forearm covered his eyes from the burning sun. It was hot, but he was cold. His arm dripped sweat, streaking mud down his cheeks. It was dangerous to lie on the ground, powerless to move if the snakes and scorpions came to hide in his shadow. The pain intensified, and he could no longer move.
Miles away, the WHO team was busy at the clinic in Kambia. A number of patients had been admitted in the past twenty-four hours with symptoms that could represent an outbreak. The senior staff people could speak English well enough to understand the instructions from the UN doctors. About the only protective equipment available for personal protection were boxes of surgical masks and latex gloves. Everyone was hurrying to get protected to some extent, but they all knew it was foolish to believe they could prevent a serious epidemic if the virus bloomed.
Alone
She trembled. Sitting at the kitchen table with John gave her some sense of safety, but he couldn’t be everywhere, not all the time. “I’m scared, John.” He’d made her a cup of tea after they got back from talking to the police. He reached for her hand as she continued. “I mean, who would want to hurt us? You didn’t do anything, did you? You never said anything to me, but someone wants to kill us? Why? It doesn’t make any sense.”
He looked at her. “Kelly, I don’t have any ideas – none. I’ve told you everything, and there’s nothing that I know of. I got the warning from Lorne, and all he said was things were not what they seemed, but I never got the chance to talk to him again. The only thing that could be a clue is those files on the computer that I didn’t decode.”
She shook her head, speaking as tears streaked her cheeks. “Why would that be important to someone? Important enough to kill us? I would never kill anyone. Why kill us?” She knew that she was emotional and not thinking rationally. She tried to focus. “Do you think I should go stay with my parents or my sister?” Before he could answer, she corrected herself. “No, that would only endanger them.”
He looked at her with determined eyes, holding one hand. “No. No one can help us if someone really wants us dead. There’ll be another attempt, and odds are that someone will succeed. Whoever sent that last clod won’t make the same mistake twice. The best thing I can think of is to get back into the lab and find those files if they still exist and then figure out what’s in them. If I can do that, we can catch the guy.”
“Can’t the police do that?”
“No. It would take a subpoena to get into the computer, and then they’d have to find out what the files meant. They’d never get a subpoena based on a warning from a dead man. Maybe if I can figure out the code, it’ll tell us something, and then we can tell the cops.”
She suddenly became angry. “You think someone at the Institute hired this guy, this assassin?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. Someone interested in those files must be involved. How else does this all hang together? Until we know what’s going on, I don’t want to assume anything. We both know these people; they’re all good scientists, good people, saving lives. I just don’t want to believe someone we know could get involved in murder.” He looked at the clock. “I need to get back to the lab. Maybe I can figure something out.”
“You’re not going there alone; you’re not leaving me behind. I still work there, too. We both should get back in there.” He just nodded.
They were at the Institute a few minutes later and were surprised to see the Baltimore PD car parked in a visitor spot near the entrance. When signing in,
John asked the guard what was going on, and all he could say was that two plain-clothed cops were in the executive offices. John and Kelly went to the lab, 4B, and he immediately logged into his workstation. It seemed like the perfect time to get into the files, while Charlie and Jules would be distracted. Kelly went to her desk and began working on collating data, but it also gave her a vantage point to let John know if someone was nearby.
In the conference room, Detective McAlister and another officer were meeting with Charlie and Jules together. Marie had offered them drinks, but all declined.
Jules was a bit fidgety, not surprisingly. “Well, officers, what’s this about?”
Both officers were experienced at reading body language. McAlister spoke while the younger male detective took notes. “Gentlemen, we’re investigating a shooting event that involved two of your employees and another lady. I’m sure you know about it.”
Both executives nodded and Charlie spoke. “Of course, we heard about it and talked to Kelly and John, but what’s that got to do with us?”
She
