Jan Coffey Thriller Box Set: Three Complete Novels: Blind Eye, Silent Waters, Janus Effect

by Jan Coffey

  “You are not,” she stressed. “You must bring no attention to yourself, remember?”

  “I’m not leaving you here alone with them.”

  “This is no time for chivalry.”

  Realizing she was not following him, the policeman stopped and threw his hands up in the air.

  “Doe tatoon beyayeen,” he said impatiently.

  “He wants both of us to go with him,” she said to him, defeated.

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  Fahimah was angry. He’d had a chance to get out of here. Now they would be subjected to scrutiny, especially Austyn. He didn’t look like an Argentinean. Not that she knew anyone from Argentina. But they’d know he was American and then…

  “Dr. Banaz,” someone called from behind her. It was Austyn.

  Fahimah hadn’t realized it, but while she was arguing with herself, she hadn’t watched where she was going. She turned around. Austyn was standing next to the policeman. They were chatting about something and both were smiling. So much for not saying anything.

  “Een dar,” the policeman said when she started walking toward them.

  “This door,” Austyn translated for her, motioning to a door leading out.

  She could have hit him.

  The policeman opened the door and motioned to a van with the hospital’s name on the side.

  “Have a good stay,” the policeman said in English, shaking Austyn’s hand.

  The two of them went out. The driver of the van came around and opened the door for them. On the way to the hospital, Fahimah turned to Austyn.

  “What were you telling that policeman?”

  “Nothing important.”

  “You two were talking and seemed to be enjoying yourselves.”

  “I just told him a couple of jokes.”

  Forty-Two

  Washington, D.C.

  Faas did not get sick.

  He didn’t take care of himself, either. But he didn’t get I just want to crawl in bed and die sick. He couldn’t ignore the feeling of pressure just above his rib cage anymore, though. There were no more medications in the house for him to take. What he’d taken had no effect. He was starting to think it wouldn’t have mattered if Betty had left an entire pharmacy for him.

  He was sitting on the edge of the bed. He couldn’t bring himself to lie down. There was something wrong with his breathing. It hurt when he took a full breath, as if he had a broken rib.

  He grabbed the phone. It was getting light outside. He looked at the clock—5:13. He figured on a Monday morning Betty was lying in bed but awake. Probably just getting ready to get up. In their twenty-two years of marriage, she’d always been an early riser.

  He was happy when she answered right away.

  “Faas?” she asked before he said anything.

  “Morning,” he said.

  “I was sleeping.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t know who else to call.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  What was wrong? he asked himself. He’d screwed up his marriage, that’s what was wrong. They’d been divorced for eight months now, and he missed her. He missed having a house full of his kids and their teenage friends. He missed the smell of something always in the oven. He missed Betty’s smell. He missed the way she talked to him like he was one of the kids. The way she looked after him, took care of him, snuggled against him…no matter how late he got home and crawled into bed.

  “I’m going through remorse,” he managed to say. He tried to lean back against the headboard. The pain was bad. It was spreading to his shoulders, neck, jaw.

  “I couldn’t take it anymore,” she told him for the umpteenth time. “If I’m going to raise our kids alone, I might as well be a single parent.”

  She was right. His job was demanding. But during the times between crises, he’d taken advantage of her. Baseball games with his friends, poker, golf and fishing trips. There had always been opportunities to do things without his family. He’d been stupid. He’d taken advantage.

  They had four children, from eleven to seventeen. When Betty had asked for a divorce, there hadn’t been any question who the kids wanted to live with.

  “Are you still there?” she asked.

  “I’m here,” he said.

  “I’m going back to sleep,” she told him.

  He nodded. It hurt too much to talk.

  She didn’t hang up. A few seconds of silence went by.

  “Are you okay, Faas?” she asked gently.

  “I think…I think I’m dying, Betty.”

  The phone slipped through his fingers to the floor. Faas slid from the edge of the bed and hit the floor hard.

  Forty-Three

  VA Medical Center, Maryland

  David’s frustration was growing with every person he spoke to.

  The nurse on his floor looked at him like he’d lost his mind, but she said she’d pass the information on to one of the doctors. The 911 call had been useless. They’d taken his name and number and said someone would get back to him. He’d tried a direct number to the police station. Also a waste. He’d been put on hold for so long that he’d hung up. He’d tried the special emergency response numbers. All circuits were busy. Tried 911 again. No use.

  He wasn’t a hundred percent certain that the Strep-Tester itself was the cause of the spread of the NFI disease, but this couldn’t be a coincidence, either. There were a total of five hundred of these samples that had gone out. He wished he had the breakdown of where every one of those testers had gone.

  David felt the blood drain out of his face. The ten thousand Strep-Testers were being released this morning.

  “Shit.” David looked at the clock. It was 6:20 a.m. No one would be in the office yet. He called the number, anyway, leaving detailed instructions for his secretary to call every regional sales manager as soon as she got in. He’d do it himself if he had their home numbers with him. They had to stop the distribution of those testers.

  As soon as he hung up, he realized he might not have been too coherent. He called back, and this time directed her to call him at the hospital if she didn’t understand what needed to be done. He made it perfectly clear that it was urgent.

  One of the nurses going by gave him a nervous look.

  “Can you get hospital security for me?” David asked her.

  “No, I can’t,” she replied. “This wing is under quarantine. Nobody is allowed to go in and out of here…and that includes the staff.”

  She disappeared inside one of the rooms before he had a chance to argue.

  David found himself staring at the clock again. The first five hundred pieces had been intended to wave in front of the clientele’s face. Some of those testers were probably still sitting in reps’ briefcases. And medicine cabinets.

  He wasn’t the only one who would be checking e-mail this morning. Rushing back to the computer, he quickly hammered out a mass e-mail to the employees, directing the sales force not to distribute or use any more of the Strep-Testers until further notice.

  He could already be too late, though, David thought. They weren’t too much of an “on-time” company. The pieces could have gone out Friday and already be in the hands of the consumers.

  In panic, he remembered the two Strep-Testers he’d given Jamie and Kate. He dialed his wife’s cell phone again. The recorded message came on that all circuits were busy. David dialed his daughter’s number. The same thing. Suddenly, no cell service was going through.

  The feeling of helplessness washing through him was cold and numbing. But he’d been here before, David told himself. This was the same feeling he’d experienced when the doctors had told him and Sally that Josh had cancer.

  Reading about so many other children like Josh and hearing their stories had provided a turning point for him. There was power in knowing that they weren’t going through that crisis alone.

  Knowledge was power then, he reminded himself, and knowledge is power now.

  David’s f
ingers flew over the keyboard. He e-mailed his daughters first. He then started a search on who was running the NFI investigation. There was no point in chasing his tail at the bottom of the ladder. He had to go to the top. He had the name less than one minute.

  Faas Hanlon.

  Forty-Four

  Taleghani Hospital, Kermanshah, Iran

  There were nine regional hospitals tied into Kermanshah University of Medical Sciences. Taleghani Hospital was one of their smallest, but it was the best. Fahimah had heard this much from her cousin Ashraf.

  The van that had met them at the airport reached the hospital and pulled up to the front door of the 1970s-era brick building. They both thanked the driver and got out.

  Fahimah’s nerves were getting the best of her. She could feel her knees shaking. Putting one foot in front of the other was a major feat.

  “Your cousin mentioned that Rahaf was being kept sedated,” Austyn reminded her.

  Fahimah nodded. She would have to be happy with whatever time she got with Rahaf, even if it were only a chance to look at her. To touch her hand, her face.

  They reached the door. A doorman opened it for them. In the lobby a balding, distinguished-looking man wearing glasses and dressed in a suit and dress shirt, but no tie, came toward them.

  “Welcome, Dr. Banaz, Mr. Newman.” He greeted them in English. “I am Dr. Mansori.”

  Fahimah realized that Ashraf had called and made all these arrangements. She wondered if Austyn minded that this man knew his real name. He didn’t seem to as he shook his hand.

  Dr. Mansori was the director of the hospital. Fahimah knew Austyn had been surprised by what he’d seen in Halabja, but he betrayed no surprise with anything that was happening here. Dr. Mansori was in charge of the hospital, and yet he was a working physician, visible, and available day to day.

  “We’re so glad you have come,” Mansori said, speaking directly to her. “Since they brought your sister here a week ago, she has declined steadily. I believe she knows it is her time, but she is trying to make life easier for all those around her.”

  Fahimah willed herself not to cry, to stay strong. “Is she heavily sedated?”

  “She was,” Dr. Mansori told her, “until I received the call from Halabja last night. “We have cut the morphine. She is in pain, but when I saw her an hour ago, she was gaining consciousness, recognizing people around her. She would want it this way…to see you.”

  “Does she know I’m coming?” Fahimah asked.

  The physician nodded. “I told her this morning.” Behind the thick glasses, his eyes were welling with tears. “I have known and worked with your sister on many different occasions over the past few years. Frequently, she has contacted me to accept patients that she felt needed to be hospitalized from the refugee camps. I do not know if you have heard the nickname the people have for her.”

  Fahimah nodded. “Firishte…the Angel.”

  “And she truly is an angel.” Dr. Mansori smiled. “I must tell you, though, that I have never seen your sister as happy as today, when I told her you were coming.”

  Fahimah’s eyes burned with unshed tears. “Will you take me to her?”

  The doctor stretched a hand in the direction that they should go. He led them up a set of stairs. Austyn and Dr. Mansori talked, but Fahimah didn’t hear a word of their exchange. She was lost in a different time.

  Two girls, holding each other in their mother’s kitchen, staring out over the body of their father at the sea of dead friends and neighbors on their street.

  She and Rahaf were two lonely souls who only had each other left. This had been the story of their life. Only fifteen months apart, they were each other’s shadow, each other’s soul. There were two hearts in their bodies but they pulsed as one.

  “This is it, khanoom.”

  Rahaf’s door was open. Two people and a nurse who were inside saw Fahimah and quickly came out. They each said something kind to her as they passed, but again she couldn’t hear.

  Fahimah stepped through the doorway. She looked at the bed, and her tears began to fall.

  Rahaf lay on the high hospital bed. She, who had once been so young and vibrant and full of health, was now a mere skeleton. The missing leg created a void that was visible under the smooth white blanket. Her hazel eyes tried to focus as she lifted her hand.

  “Fahimah?”

  She didn’t remember taking the steps, but she was there, next to her sister, holding her in her arms.

  They’d spent a lifetime apart, but they were one again.

  Forty-Five

  VA Medical Center, Maryland

  Cell phone lines were jammed. Some of the regular telephone exchanges seemed to be working, but it was hit and miss.

  Finally, David got through on an 800-number for Homeland Security in Washington. Could he speak to Faas Hanlon? He was unavailable. Was the next person in charge of the NFI investigation available? No, no one else in charge of that investigation was available, either.

  “There’s got to be someone there to talk to. I have critical information about the situation.”

  “Mr. Link, we have no one available to talk to you right now, but if I could take a number where you can be reached, an agent connected with the investigation will get back to you.”

  “I’ve been doing just that at a number of places over the past two hours, and no one has called me back, yet.” David was disgusted. “Fine, let me leave a message for Faas Hanlon.”

  Both of his daughters e-mailed him back within an hour. They wanted to know what the heck was going on…and yes, they still had the Strep-Testers.

  The company-wide e-mail he’d sent out was creating some questions. But no one was jumping in and offering anything useful. Both Bill and Ned Reynolds had their “I am away” messages on, and the VP of Sales hadn’t opened his e-mail yet, either.

  His secretary had e-mailed him that she was making the calls to the sales force, but that she wasn’t able to get through to a lot of them because of clogged phone lines.

  He decided that leaving a message for Faas Hanlon wasn’t enough.

  David e-mailed and then phoned the White House. He couldn’t get through. He e-mailed the FBI. He was getting to be a master at it. Name, phone number where he could be reached, the company he worked for, identifying himself as a survivor, so far, of the NFI research boat incident, indicating that he has information that might tie the source of the infection to new sample Strep-Testers that his company had released.

  One of the resident physicians came out in the hallway, and David pounced on him.

  “The nurses are becoming very concerned about your behavior, Mr. Link,” the young man told him.

  “Good,” David said, frustrated. “Call security. Call the police. Call the FBI.”

  “We can’t do any of those things right now.” He started into a long speech about the procedures for the quarantining of the patients.

  David cut him off. “I know what the source of infection is.”

  “You know, sir, every investigator in this country is working on this.”

  “But they don’t know what I know.”

  “Have you called the FBI…or the police department?”

  David told him about all the phone calls and e-mails he’d sent.

  The young doctor shrugged. “Sounds like you’ve done everything you should be doing. I’m sure they’ll get back to you.” He glanced at his watch. “Sorry, I have to go.”

  David rubbed the back of his neck. The muscles were knotted. He wasn’t overreacting. What happened if he was right?

  He couldn’t believe how close he’d come to making Josh use the tester.

  A cold sweat washed down his back. Anyone could be using one right now.

  He made up his mind. He dialed the number for the White House again and got through. He punched numbers until he was speaking to a living human.

  “Yes. This is David Link. I am the terrorist behind the NFI outbreak…Yes, you heard me correctly. The NF
I outbreak…No, I don’t want you to put me on hold. I’ve just been taken off the research vessel that had all the kids on it, and I’m being held in the VA Medical Center…That’s right, the VA Medical Center in Maryland. Yes, I am behind every single one of the outbreaks. Yes, David Link. I work for Reynolds’ Pharmaceuticals. Okay…now listen to me, because I’m only going to say this to you once. Are you ready?”

  David definitely had the White House operator’s attention.

  “As we speak, ten thousand infected products are being shipped all over the country. Ten thousand. That means the number of NFI deaths so far is nothing compared to what will happen tomorrow if you don’t get someone over to this hospital now.”

  Forty-Six

  Taleghani Hospital, Kermanshah, Iran

  Austyn couldn’t have felt more welcome.

  After asking him a couple of questions about his background and realizing the visitor’s interest in science and research, the physician gave him a complete tour of the hospital. He talked about the staff and their publications. Dr. Mansori had been here since before the Iranian revolution, and his thirty-year tenure gave him the air of a proud parent.

  Austyn didn’t want to stray too far and for too long away from Fahimah, though, so after a couple of hours they made their way back toward the wing where Rahaf was staying.

  There was a nurse outside the door, and she told Austyn that Fahimah was looking for him.

  He knocked on the door and Fahimah opened it.

  Austyn had to keep from putting his arms immediately around her. She had a look on her face that he could only describe as one of gain and loss. She had found something that she knew she was about to have torn from her.

  “I told Rahaf about you,” Fahimah said softly. She drew him into the room.

  Austyn looked at the bed where Rahaf lay. The absurdity of imagining she could be responsible for the terror in U.S. would have been comical if it were not for her condition. She was beyond frail. The years and her illnesses had been very hard on her. She looked so much older than her age. Her intelligent hazel eyes, though, were very much alive.