by Vicki Hinze
“Gabby’s dying,” he said without preamble.
Erickson stiffened, paused, then continued to wash his hands. “I’m sorry, Max.” He turned to face him. “I lost my wife to cancer and my son to EEE. I know what it’s like.”
“I don’t want your sympathy.” Max swallowed hard, deliberately leashed his temper and lowered his voice. “I want your help.”
“If I could give it to you, I would.” Erickson looked him right in the eye.
“Candace is better. It isn’t from Keith’s vaccine.” Max knew he was risking the bank, talking openly here. Intel heard every word, which meant Commander Conlee would know everything within minutes. But Max had no choice. Not if he wanted Gabby to live, and he wanted her to live more than he feared dying.
“What’s your point, Max?” Erickson rinsed his hands, cranked the water faucet off, and jerked a paper towel from the wall dispenser.
“When Keith came to check on Gabby, you stayed with Candace. Right after you left, she started improving. Keith’s vaccine would have worked before then. Her improvement had to be a direct result of something you did.”
“I didn’t do anything.” Erickson tossed the paper towel into the trash bin, setting its stainless top to swinging and casting streaks of light across the lab. “Don’t you think if I could save either of them I would? Jesus, God, Max. I’m not here because Swift offered me the most money or best stock options and 401(k). Frankly, Keith Burke offered more. But here, I had the opportunity to test in ways I couldn’t there. That mattered most to me.”
Max needed more facts. Something had turned Candace around and whatever it was, Max needed it for Gabby. “Why did that matter most?”
“Because I failed.” Erickson blinked hard, and his shoulders slumped. His burden was heavy. “When my wife was dying, she asked one thing of me. Just one thing. That I take care of our son. That’s all she asked, Max.” Erickson paused, swallowed hard, and his expression crumbled. “Jeremy was all I had left of her, and I let him get EEE and die. I didn’t protect him.”
Guilt was a bitch. Earned or not, it clung like a parasite anywhere it found a welcome sign. “You hoped the Z-4027 project would yield a cure for EEE.”
Erickson nodded, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Believe me, if I could cure Gabby, I would. But I can’t, Max. I … can’t.”
Erickson was telling the truth. Max’s hope crushed and died. “What about the missing canister? The one with the black band?”
“It was nothing.” Erickson shrugged. “Dr. Swift found it shortly after you left the lab.”
“Did you verify its contents?”
“Of course.” The idea of not checking them came across clearly as alien. “Everything was in order. One of Dr. Swift’s team members was prepping for some in-house trial studies on the pesticide contract and had forgotten to sign the canister out. He’s been reprimanded.” Erickson grunted. “I don’t like the idea of being forced to use this pesticide before the tests are done—neither did Dr. Swift—but considering the incident,” he lifted a hand toward the plywood-covered window, “we don’t have a lot of choice.”
Still focusing on Gabby, Max turned Erickson’s attention. “Did anyone else come to see Candace while you were there?”
“Paige and Miranda were in and out.” He rubbed at his temple and thought back. “Mayor Faulkner and Dr. Swift dropped by on their way to the bus yard—oh, and Sissy came in for a moment on her way to Mass.”
“Sissy?” Max had heard her mentioned, but couldn’t recall by whom.
“Sissy Blake,” Erickson said. “Carl’s wife.”
Right. The banker who owned the fleet of spraying trucks, half the real estate in town, who had missed the meeting at the mayor’s because a tree had crashed through his son’s bedroom roof and he’d had to meet the insurance adjuster. Max dug deeper, and recalled Elizabeth’s mention of Sissy. Show and no substance. She wasn’t one of the ladies. So why had she come by Candace’s house?
The red phone rang on Erickson’s desk. As he lifted the receiver, he told Max, “You’ll have to excuse me. Classified call.”
Max nodded and turned toward the lab door.
“Wait a second.” Erickson sounded baffled. “It’s for you, Max.”
It had to be Commander Conlee. Intel sure hadn’t wasted any time reporting what they’d picked up on the remote viewer.
Erickson passed the receiver, his curious look demanding an answer. “I’m a subject matter expert assigned to FEMA for Hurricane Darla,” he explained, surprised Faulkner hadn’t spread the news through town already. They’d been through this at the meeting. “Health risks.”
“Ah.” Erickson nodded and then stepped outside the lab door, into the corridor. When the heavy door closed behind him, Max lifted the receiver to his ear. “Yes, sir.”
“I’m not even going to ask what the hell is going on there, but I’d better have a full report by daybreak. Withhold nothing, Grayson, or so help me, I’ll send in a tactical team and shut this son of a bitch down so fast you’ll get diver’s bends.”
Daybreak. Between now and then, Max needed a pocketful of miracles. “Yes, sir.”
“Intel has tapped into Merlin. The news isn’t good.”
Merlin. The public health system linking Florida’s public health departments to doctors and hospitals to warn officials of trends, outbreaks, or potential epidemics. Why should it be good news? He hadn’t caught a break on this entire mission.
“Carnel Cove Memorial Hospital has reported seventeen cases of EEE to the CDC. At their recommendation, Mayor Faulkner is putting Carnel Cove under quarantine.”
Terrific. The Centers for Disease Control levies a quarantine and no outside help can get into Carnel Cove, and the Warrior running loose in the Cove can’t get out. Batting a thousand. “Have we intercepted the samples going to the CDC?”
“Yes.” Conlee let out a pregnant sigh. “Rapid symptom manifestation in all seventeen cases suggests Z-4027 contamination.”
“Damn it.” Max bounced the heel of his fist against Erickson’s desktop.
“There is some good news.”
“I could use a little,” Max admitted.
“The state epidemiologist feels all seventeen patients were infected before we began spraying in Area One.”
So much for that good news. “We can’t make that assumption, sir.”
“Why not?”
“Logan Industries is providing the pesticide chemicals for spraying. Dr. Erickson lied about Dr. Swift finding the missing black-banded canister. I presume you’re familiar with it?”
“Hell, yes.” His voice muddied, as if he were chomping down on his stubby cigar. “Did Erickson confess to you?”
“No, sir. But I’m convinced the black-banded canister is still missing—gut instinct. You’re aware of Candace Burke’s condition, correct?”
“Keith’s been keeping me posted.”
“Well, she’s making a miraculous recovery. The change occurred during Erickson’s watch over her. The mayor and Swift stopped by there, but I’m near certain they didn’t do anything to bring about her recovery. Not without Erickson knowing it.”
“You think Erickson gave her a prototype vaccine he’s developed?”
“That is my guess, yes.” Remembering the pain in Erickson at failing his wife, uncertainty attacked Max. If not a prototype injection, then what had he done to bring about her recovery? And if the missing black-banded canister didn’t contain a prototype vaccine, what was in it? He was almost afraid to add to his speculation because Conlee wanted answers, not more questions, and yet Max had to consult him on this. “Commander, ask Dr. Richardson to review the seventeen cases.”
“He already has.”
“Yes, sir. But ask him to do it again. Erickson and Swift were arguing over the canister being missing. If Erickson had a prototype in it that could cure, he wouldn’t have been scared, and he was terrified.”
“Where are you going with this, Max?”
“I�
�m not sure just yet. Something’s nagging at me. What if that missing canister was of Z-4027, and not a vaccine or a pesticide prototype?”
“Wouldn’t Erickson know that?”
“Not if someone else switched the bands on the canisters. All the others are yellow. Only that one was black.”
“Carl Blake’s trucks sprayed Area One, and it is closest to the lab, Max, where we’d expect to see the most dense population of the infected mosquitoes. We’re under the hammer, and this could be a wild-goose chase. Considering proximity, it’s highly likely the mosquitoes from the lab infected these people.”
“Yes, sir. I agree this could be nothing. The number of infections reported isn’t inflated beyond normal expectations. But Candace is better and Erickson is the reason. I can’t prove it, sir, but I know it.”
“Okay.” Conlee had to be skeptical, but he trusted Max’s instincts enough to agree to the request. “I’ll have Richardson take a look. In the meantime, could you please focus on finding some concrete connections so we can get a grip on exactly what the hell is going on there?”
“I’m trying, sir.”
“I know. But about an hour ago, SDU was called in on the other two infestations.”
“Texas and California?” Max recalled the cotton crop and vineyard infections.
“Yeah.” Irritation filled Conlee’s voice. “So far, there’s no hard evidence of a common thread. I don’t have to tell you what that means.”
The Global Warriors had unleashed an economic war on the U.S. And apparently, they had unleashed it all across the country.
That news was worse than it sounded because historically the Global Warriors never acted for themselves. Their goal was money, and nothing but money. Someone had hired them and paid them well to launch this attack. And as of this moment, the U.S. had no idea who.
The commander launched into a detailed briefing that lasted thirty-seven minutes: a record for the normally succinct Commander Conlee. They were just finishing up when Max’s cell phone rang.
He ended the call with Conlee and then answered the cell. “Grayson.”
“Max, it’s Elizabeth. Gabby is really going down fast. Dr. Erickson is here. If you want to see her again …” Her voice cracked on a sob. “Oh, Max. You’d better get home.”
Erickson was there? He’d left the lab when Max had taken the commander’s call, but why had he gone to Gabby’s? He’d said he couldn’t help her. But not being able to help her didn’t preclude him from inflicting harm. A sick feeling hollowed Max’s stomach, and he headed for the door.
Swift seemed like the logical choice for corruption inside Logan Industries. He had hired Erickson; he remained in control of both Z-4027 projects—the vaccine and the pesticide; he had a thing for Candace; and he and Faulkner had been with her during Keith’s absence. Swift had had access to Candace. With Faulkner diverting Erickson, Swift could have done whatever had been done to stimulate her recovery.
But what if Swift wasn’t the corrupt contact at Logan Industries? What if Erickson was?
Erickson, who was now there with unfettered access to a helpless Gabby? Gabby, who if her memory was intact, could know Erickson was the guilty party.
That makes her a high risk in his book, Max. He’ll eliminate the threat.
Max broke into a full run. “Elizabeth, watch Erickson. Do not leave him alone with Gabby. It’s important,” Max said in a rush, jerking open the Jeep’s door and then sliding inside. The engine roared to life, and he gunned it. “I’m on my way.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
Max rushed into Gabby’s bedroom.
She lay sleeping, and Elizabeth stood beside her bed, holding a Smith & Wesson .38 aimed at the bedroom door. “Whoa! Put that down, okay?”
“Sorry.” Elizabeth pointed the barrel down, toward the floor.
Had she shot Erickson? “Where is he?”
“He left.” Elizabeth slid the gun into her slacks pocket, adjusted the covers up over Gabby’s shoulders, and then turned to Max. “I don’t know what happened with her. One minute, she was in serious trouble. Then the next, she was pulling out of it. I came back into the room as soon as you told me not to leave him alone with her.”
“Armed? Did you feel threatened by him?”
“No, I was already armed.” She glanced toward the window. “Since right after you left, I’ve had that ‘watched’ feeling that makes your skin crawl. I checked everything—even outside. Didn’t see anyone.” She looked frustrated by that. “But I know someone was lurking, watching us, Max. You get a sense of those things, you know?”
He did. The hair on your neck stands straight up, a warning shoots up your back, the roof of your mouth tingles, and a little voice inside screams that there’s danger. He’d had that same feeling several times here, but he, too, had failed to catch anyone spying on them. Still, he knew the man was there, and that little voice warned him he was the second Global Warrior who had tried to attack Gabby. “So Erickson didn’t give you any trouble?”
“None at all.” Elizabeth shrugged. “He acted normal. Finished the exam and then left.”
“Did he do anything to her?”
“Not that I saw.” Again, Elizabeth glanced out the window, watched intently for a moment, and then turned to look back at Max. “But I called you from the living room, so I can’t be sure what he did while I was out there. His hands were empty coming in and going out of here, though.” She motioned to an array of equipment littering the top of Gabby’s dresser. “He used Keith’s gear.”
Max stepped up to the bed, looked down on Gabby. She looked comfortable, as if she were just napping, and she didn’t seem as far away, though he couldn’t say why or even explain how he sensed it. It was just a feeling.
“Her breathing is a lot better,” Elizabeth said, sounding a little more at ease. “She drank a couple sips of water. Erickson said Keith would be over just as soon as Miranda could get there. Paige is worthless on these things.”
She was a strong empath. Situations such as this would be sheer hell for her. Max glanced over. “Did Keith say how Candace was doing?”
“Better.” Relief flooded Elizabeth’s face. “Her fever broke, Max.”
She didn’t understand that any better than he did, though he strongly suspected Erickson or Swift had facilitated it. “That’s good news.” It was for Candace but not for Gabby. Envy swam through Max, and guilt.
She didn’t stir. Max sat down on the foot of her bed. Elizabeth walked from the window to the chair beside it and then sat down.
Automatically, Max clasped Gabby’s hand, held it in both of his. He probably should let this wait, but he couldn’t hold off on everything. Not if he wanted to find out about this attack and get the situation here controlled. “Elizabeth,” he said, deciding to tackle the matter now. “Earlier you said there had been a man’s body in the garage.”
She crossed her legs at her ankles and swiped her hair back from her shoulder. “Yes.”
The woman had no intention of giving an inch. He’d have to be blunt and ask her directly. “How did you know that?”
She dipped her chin, looked at Gabby, and then back at him. “William and I were married twenty-five years, Max. We kept no secrets.”
Okay. He supposed that was pretty normal for some married couples. But what did that have to do with this situation?
Elizabeth went on. “During his days on the bench, William often reviewed evidence, including blood splatters. I was a sounding board for him. I listened, and I learned.” She leaned forward, laced her hands atop her knees, and looked Max in the eye. “I’ve listened to Gabby talk about you for the last year, too.” She softened her voice. “And while I know she loves you, I also know she isn’t married to you.”
Max should deny it. If he had any sense at all, he would deny it and not break his cover. Yet something warned him against it. Elizabeth wasn’t the kind of woman who would be placated with lies. Substance, not show. The last thing he needed to do was je
opardize being in the ladies’ good graces. He couldn’t lie, so instead he held his silence.
She softly smiled. “Have you swept the house for listening devices?”
He nodded, relieved his decision had been a smart move.
“Months before William told me, I concluded that Gabby was an SDU covert operative.”
Shocked, Max nearly fell off the bed.
Elizabeth didn’t skip a beat. “I’m assuming you’re also SDU since you’re Gabby’s absentee husband.” She stared pointedly at their clasped hands.
Max finally found his voice. “Do you know what SDU is?”
Elizabeth nodded.
“How?” Conlee would have had her killed. It wasn’t possible.
“William was a legal adviser for SDU before we moved to Carnel Cove.”
“He told you?” Max couldn’t believe it. Why in the name of God would William Powell put her in that kind of jeopardy? But it did explain Powell’s picking up on Judge Abernathy’s judicial corruption here. He was trained to pick up the threads and see the signs.
“Of course he didn’t tell me. That wouldn’t be ethical. William was always ethical, Max. That aside, he would never willingly put me in danger.” She smiled to take the bite out of her sharp tone. “I’ve always known it, but I wasn’t aware that William knew I was aware of it until just before he died.”
“He realized you knew?”
She nodded. “I’m not sure for how long.” Leaning back, she propped an elbow on the arm of her chair. “When he was dying, he told me and Candace to go to Gabby with anything we found, and to get her to run some lab tests on his tissue samples. He said we could trust her—only her.”
“But he didn’t mention SDU.”
“Not specifically. William wouldn’t. But I knew, and he knew I knew.” She paused a second, as if giving her emotions a moment to settle down. “Commander Conlee is not a stranger to me, Max—to any of the ladies, actually. He wanted William’s blood and tissue samples, if you’ll recall, and Home Base is having to move to a less densely populated location.”
She paused as if weighing what next to reveal. “Conlee investigated us, but we also investigated him. Miranda is a whiz with computers, and you’d be positively awed at Candace’s capabilities. After Paige came with me to meet him, she filled in the blanks for us. Candace and Miranda had already met him, of course, through their defense contracts at Logan Industries.”
