The Dolos Conspiracy

by Frank Perry

Hundreds of people had died in outbreaks that their lab people had deliberately caused. Jules was now complicit and would swing with the others if they were caught. His options seemed non-existent. Even with a few million dollars in hand, could he escape the clutches of the police? Could he disappear? Dreams of luxury retirement in America had vanished when Hanson and Irina confessed. Now, he had to sell quickly and disappear.

  “Look, Jim, are they really serious with this number? It should be a lot higher.”

  “Jules, like I’ve told you, I work for them. They pay my fees and commission, so you can’t ask me such questions. All I can say is that you and Charlie need to discuss it and take it or refuse it. If you refuse, they could walk, or they could listen to a counter offer. It’s really up to you.”

  “Okay. I’m gonna talk it over with Charlie.” He ended the cell call and looked across the table. “What do you think?”

  Charlie wasn’t familiar with all of the issues pressuring Jules. “It seems low to me, Jules. I thought you were saying we’d get hundreds of millions. Why would you want to accept this?”

  “Honestly, Charlie, I think it’s worth more. But if we’re wrong in our predictions, and our vaccine doesn’t work this time or the next, we could be worthless. So, I guess, on the one hand, we have enough money on the table to each walk away as millionaires. There’s three primary owners and some minors, and a bunch of debt to pay off. So, I figure that we’d each walk away with somewhere around three or four million. At our age, that’s not bad.”

  “So, what are you saying? You want to go with this or start over?”

  Maybe the Saudi tactics were working. Jules needed to make this happen. He needed Charlie’s agreement. “Okay, let me make a counter offer.”

  Charlie reluctantly agreed. Jules pressed the mute again, “Mohammed, are you there?”

  “Yes.” The voice was firm.

  “Ah, we’ve discussed this internally and we think the Institute is worth more money. Lots of people have shown interest. I can give you specifics if you wish, but our position is that it’s worth at least fifty million under your conditions.”

  The silence was alarming, causing Jules’ pulse rate to rise and beads of sweat to break out on his forehead. The response finally came. “Doctors, we are prepared to raise our offer to thirty million, but no more. As you say, take it or leave it.”

  After more private dialogue between owners, the deal was accepted at thirty million.

  Hospital

  When John returned to the hospital, the Egans were in the waiting area near the IC unit. Mr. Egan was dozing while slumped in a chair and Mrs. Egan was lying on her side uncomfortably in another chair beside him. Mr. Egan responded when John sat down across from them. He explained that Kelly had been awake off and on, so they’d been able to see her for short periods, but they were exhausted. She was recovering well. The surgeon had told them that she would be moved to a standard room in a few hours. They hadn’t been able to sleep well at the hospital. They were civil to John, but not welcoming, and he suggested that they return to the hotel to rest while he remained vigilant. They were hesitant, but fatigue ultimately forced them to agree. They didn’t like John; at least, they didn’t like what had happened to their daughter when she was with him. They didn’t know him and were not interested in getting acquainted, for now. Maybe this would change in the future, but not now. They didn’t need to like him, but they trusted him to watch over Kelly and call them if something happened. He was obviously capable and loved their daughter; he was just dangerous for her to be around. In the hospital, he would be a reliable guardian.

  Shortly after they left, the nurse told John that Kelly was awake and wanted to see him. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but it was remarkable how much better she looked after only a few hours. The neck brace was gone, and she could move her head. It was still bandaged, and her lips were swollen, but she looked beautiful to him. He bent to kiss the undamaged part of her cheek that wasn’t covered. “Hey, how are you?”

  She tried to smile, but it hurt her lips. “The doctor said I would be out of ICU by tomorrow morning.”

  He gently reached for her hand. “That’s wonderful. I bet you’ll be out of here fast after that.”

  “I’m going home with my parents, John. I’m never going back to the Institute.”

  He didn’t know how to react immediately and couldn’t envision going back to work without her. He knew this would have been a hard decision … the work was important to her. It had been her dream job, the culmination of a life studying for this exact role. But on an emotional level, there was a more horrifying prospect: he felt he could lose her. Is she breaking off our relationship? Her parents obviously didn’t like him. He understood why, but it wasn’t his fault. He hadn’t done anything wrong. If anything, he’d discovered a plot to kill masses of people. But, it had also endangered Kelly. He’d used her to unravel the mystery surrounding the spreadsheet, and she was now a target for assassination. He squeezed her hand lightly. “It’s a good idea, Kelly. I’m sorry I got you into this. It’s best if you were away from here.” His tone wasn’t convincing to her or to him.

  “What will you do, John?” He was upsetting her again but didn’t know what else to do.

  He thought for several moments trying to control his own emotions, as so many issues coalesced in his head at once. “I don’t have a choice, Kelly. I’ve got to end this. I need to get some evidence for the police. I need a paper trail that doesn’t seem to exist or to get a confession from someone. Right now, you and I, and maybe Mary, are loose ends. Someone wants us dead, and I need to end this before they succeed.”

  She gripped his hand. She’d seen a different side of him since the first assassination attempt. She might even need to be afraid for him. Her mind was conflicted between strong feelings for him and moral reservations about what he might be capable of doing. In her soul, she was a humanitarian and couldn’t stand the thought of someone she loved harming another person. For the last few days, she’d seen John react to hostilities, and it had scared her. But he was motivated to save lives, to save her life and maybe thousands of others. She didn’t know how to reconcile her feelings and needed time away to think about it. “What are you going to do, John? I’m leaving, and you should, too. Somehow, someday, they’ll get caught, whoever it is. Someone will figure it out. Tell the police what you know and disappear. That should be enough to eventually catch them.”

  He couldn’t tell her what he’d learned from Hanson, or how he’d learned it. He knew where to go next, but it wasn’t something the police could do. He was already outside the law and would be compounding his crimes. The police couldn’t act on the information he’d forced from Hanson. It was hearsay at best. Just the opposite, John could go to prison for assaulting the bastard. He looked at her with kindness and longing, fearful that he was losing her, but he didn’t have any other choices -- more people would die waiting for the wheels of justice catch up – or maybe never catch up. He squeezed her hand gently. “You just get better now and stay with the people who can love and protect you. I can’t do that right now.”

  She asked again, “What are you going to do?” Tears were forming again. She was pushing him away and it hurt, no matter how rational the decision to leave him might be. There was a fissure between them, a gap that might never get reconciled. She couldn’t put herself in his position. They’d both had vastly different life experiences that affected their most basic behaviors. She couldn’t harm a fly, but knew that John was capable of things she couldn’t imagine … at least it seemed so at the moment. Her mind ached trying to piece together all the events over the past several days, but injury, drugs, and the fog of too much sleep just couldn’t put it all together now. Maybe she would still love John, but she didn’t have a grasp on anything right now. I need to get away, back home for a clean start.

  “Finish it.” He did
n’t want any more dialogue. Her monitor was beeping more rapidly, and anything he said would just upset her more. Before she could speak, he kissed her cheek again and released her hand. “I’ve got to go now.”

  She began to protest, but he had already turned away. She didn’t know what to say or what to think. John was doing something, and he didn’t want her to know about it. She could see it in his eyes and hear it in his evasive answers. She didn’t want him hurt, but understood the reality of the situation. If he could end it, he would need to do it alone. The police were powerless without evidence of a crime. They were investigating the shooting and the hit-and-run, but there was nothing leading to a motive that could be considered a larger crime. There was something wrong with the virus inventory; they both knew it, but there was no evidence that could prove it to anyone else. Someone was trying to kill them to prevent it being discovered. John also knew something that he wasn’t telling her. She could sense it, but he wasn’t going to share it with her.

  The Ghost

  Irina never slept soundly. Her apartment was never completely quiet. Freeway traffic outside and thin walls separating neighbors made it difficult to rest. Sometimes, she would hear their late night lovemaking, and it excited her. She would lie silently fanaticizing her own arousal with some ethereal vicarious lover. But mostly, there was just random noise.

  It wasn’t important; she’d learned to ignore it all, but, now, she had complex and conflicting thoughts and often found the best solutions in dreams. She visualized the interior lab, 4B, where she was carefully placing the virus inside the container. It hadn’t been her idea, but ever since Matt Hanson had come to her with his scheme, she was obliged to work with him. It gave her the idea for creating a plague that only she could predict. Matt had handled the contacts for getting the initial virus planted. Unfortunately, it had led to the death of Victor Diakité (the first guide/interpreter) through carelessness, but it wasn’t a surprise. He didn’t have any protective clothing or training, so it was inevitable that he would suffer the same fate as others using the town well. Too bad. It had eliminated a person involved in their scheme. It wasn’t clear that Matt could find another idiot in Africa to create the next plague.

  It didn’t matter. The owners had arranged for a buyer of the Institute to interview her and negotiate a big salary. She would be rich from her shares in the company. She would sleep soundly throughout the night, anticipating the huge reward she would get for her work. She would buy a big house with a steel gate. She would buy an H1 HMMWV, the real military truck, not the fake HUMMER built by GM on their pickup chassis. She would have it all. She would live in complete isolation, away from other renters and neighbors. She would have no guests except a few relatives from Argentina if any of them wanted to visit. None ever had in the past. She would have cleaning people and caterers to take care of her. She would have a massive super computer system in her own workroom to develop some of the programs she had been thinking about for years. She would not be famous, she didn’t want fame. She just wanted to lead the solitary life she had always craved.

  She was conflicted regarding the timing to confront the owners with a demand for a larger share in the sale of GHI. She would approach Jules because he was now a conspirator and knew she could bring down the Institute if she wanted. Charlie was ignorant of it all. Neither of them would ever get a dime if it had not been for her, but only Jules would know this. He would need to convince Charlie to share the money. It shouldn’t be hard; Charlie knew that she’d developed the algorithms. At least, that is what he would think.

  She rolled onto her back, smiling in her dreams, thinking about the other ways she would spend the money. She was imagining a warm sandy beach at an exclusive resort. Young beautiful men paid attention to her, which had never happened in real life. She could feel the ocean tide slowly rising around her, cooling her. She would move higher up the beach soon, just as her piña colada poured feely into her mouth, aided by a cabana boy. You idiot, are you trying to drown me! She dreamed that it was being poured through a funnel and she gagged. It wasn’t a dream!

  Her bed was soaked around her as liquid ran down her face onto the mattress. She was suddenly awake, her eyes trying to adjust to the dim light seeping below the window blinds. Her arms and chest were crushed by an enormous weight, preventing her from moving. What! She tried to scream, just as a large latex-gloved hand compressed her mouth, trapping the flood inside. She gasped, realizing that it was not a dream. She panicked and gagged. A nightmare! She could see the form on top of her. The beast was a dim yellowish form; a ghost! She had always feared ghosts from the time she was a girl. She was afraid of the dark!

  The ghost leaned forward, inches from her mouth before speaking. “Irina … dear Irina. You’ve been a bad girl, very bad.” Her eyes were wide from terror. “If you speak or raise your voice, I will tape it shut. Otherwise, we’re going to have a little conversation. Do you agree, or do I use the tape?”

  She nodded forcefully, fearful of suffocating if her mouth were taped.

  He released his hand over her mouth, and she spoke. “Who are you? What are you doing dressed like that? You’re drowning me!”

  He put his hand over her mouth again. “Not quite ‘drown’ as you say. Do you recognize this thermos?” He held the small stainless cylinder next to her face and her eyes widened in terror. “It’s from the Institute. It’s one of the older Hemorrhagic viruses, and you just swallowed a mega-dose.” Tears formed in both her eyes as her pudgy cheeks nearly exploded. The male voice continued in very clear hushed English. “Now, we’re going to have a discussion, and you’re going to answer all of my questions. If you do that, I’ll tell you which virus it is, and you might get to the antidote soon enough to prevent the disease. I’m not a doctor, so you will need to think carefully about how much time you want to waste before you tell me exactly what I want to know. I just imagine that sooner is best. Now, are you ready to talk?” She nodded violently.

  For the next few minutes, Irina answered all of his questions. She was panicking. Her accent became pronounced and interfered as she struggled to repeat answers. Anything to get the beast off and get to the Institute. If she recognized him, she didn’t indicate it. It didn’t matter. They had worked together in Lab 4B for about a year before Kelly had transferred from 4A and Irina got elevated strangely to executive status. She’d been a tyrant, including having him run personal errands. Nobody respected her at the Institute, yet she was promoted. He knew where her apartment key was hidden in a crack behind her mailbox because of the errands she had demanded of him when she was in the lab. He also had a good feeling of when she was lying. She was very bad at it; and, besides, he had Hanson’s information to corroborate it. She wasn’t lying; she was too scared to lie. She told him everything.

  When she had finished explaining the conspiracy and answering all of his questions, her hard exterior had disintegrated into a sobbing blob encased in dripping bed sheets. He didn’t need to warn her not to move, she was paralyzed with fear. He actually had mild sympathy for her and could only imagine what it must be like to awaken with someone on top in the dark forcing liquid down their throat. He’d seen the closed cells in Afghanistan where water-boarding took place. His sympathy for her only lasted for a brief moment as he climbed off. He only had to reflect on the horrors she’d caused in Africa. Most of the people she had killed were nameless statistics, but Lorne Bridger had been a close colleague, someone who respected and trusted her. She was as cold-blooded as he was pretending to be.

  He stripped off the hazmat suit in her living room and left quietly, still hearing her sobbing in the bedroom. It wasn’t exactly water boarding, but the result was the same. She’d be fearful for weeks that he had actually poured a virus down her throat.

  He had one more stop that night.

  Judgment

  Earlier that same day, Mary’s roommate ca
me looking for her in the library. She knew Mary would be studying for the SAT and researching colleges for entrance standards. There was no librarian on duty after hours, and it was almost time for the janitor to lock up. “Mary, the office left a message for you. There was an older man asking about you. He said he was some kind of relative, but they didn’t give him any information.”

  That was all it took for Mary to grab her coat and purse and run to the hallway with her roommate, looking in both directions. “Come with me.” Both girls were scared. Her roommate knew about John’s warning; Mary had been edgy all day and now looked terrified. They ran together outside, toward Main Street. There was light foot traffic in the freezing cold and few cars were moving through the misty night fog. Mary thanked her roommate and left for the dock area, alone, looking all around for any sign that someone was following. She used her cell phone to call Gort, telling him that she was coming home and would explain when she got there. She was able to catch the last water taxi to the Island.

  The man was seen again the next day, and someone in the school admin office had reported him to the police. They found him coming out of a drugstore near the campus. They questioned him about his interest in the girl’s school, and there had been a report filed from the school. He explained that he was newly retired and just roaming around the country dropping in on people who were distant relatives. He wasn’t sure if Mary was related, but a few online sites had listed a “Mary Swensen” in Maine as someone from his family tree. It was an obscure explanation that the police couldn’t validate one way or the other. They recorded the information from his driver’s license and advised him to keep away from the school. There wasn’t anything more they could do at that time. The following morning, he bought a ticket to Matinicus Island. Her Facebook page showed pictures of her at her home on the island, and he figured she’d be scared enough to leave when the school let her know about his interest. Love Facebook!

  He was average height but stocky with crewcut gray hair.