Dark Cure: A Covid Thriller (Dark Plague Book 1)

by Bradley West

  Back in the TV room, Travis’ phone rang with the opening chords of ZZ Top’s “Ten Dollar Man.” Sal walked back expecting Melvin to pick up, but the wounded vet was asleep.

  chapter twenty-seven

  REFUGEES

  Monday, July 12: Kentfield, Oakland and San Rafael, California, mid-day to late afternoon

  “Ryder’s line.” Sal answered Travis’ phone, perhaps the last Blackberry still in existence outside a museum. It was Carla.

  “Sal?” she asked. “Where’s Travis?”

  “Travis is right here, but he’s out. Last night Stephanie was kidnapped from my house while we tried to steal your lab equipment. We failed, the kidnappers took Steph and fractured Pat’s skull, and we’ve been hunting them ever since. We had a lead on a location, but it was boobytrapped. Maung died and Travis was wounded. He’s had surgery and is doing okay.”

  “A bomb? Oh, my God, this is awful. How bad is he hurt?”

  “He was hit by shrapnel in three places. A combat medic Jaime knows cleaned his wounds and sewed him up. He’s sedated. Pat’s stable at home with an ICU nurse looking after her. We still don’t know where Stephanie and Tyson are, but they’re together.”

  “Jesus, I’m so sorry, Uncle Sal.” Carla paused. “I need help. I’m almost at a scientific supply store called Bettadapur’s. It’s in—”

  “In Burlingame. That’s where we tried to break in last night.”

  “There’re five of us who have to escape and three guards from Livermore Labs. We’ll be in the warehouse for three or four hours.”

  “Jaime and I will come get you. Stall as long as you can.”

  The door to the women’s toilet burst open and John called her name. From inside the stall, Carla wrapped up. “Okay, Mom, great to speak with you too. Give my love to Dad.”

  Sal hung up and tried to think. They were looking at a two-hour drive in broad daylight . . . not ideal. Better get Jaime ASAP and wake Melvin up: It was all hands to the pumps.

  Melvin awoke so stiff that the older man had to haul him out the easy chair by his good arm. “We’re leaving now to rescue my niece and four others,” Sal said. “Can you travel?”

  “Yessir. Let me piss, and I’ll be ready to lock and load.”

  Melvin shuffled off to the toilet. A glance at Travis showed a man still dead to the world, a bloodstained bandage around his forehead.

  From the distant kitchen, Sal heard his phone ring. He raced to pick up, relieved it was Jaime. “Just the man I need. When can you get back here? Carla needs our help.”

  “I’ve got a problem. I’m at the San Rafael police station. After I left the RV park, they pulled me over for a quarantine violation and saw all the blood. I said it was from my head wound Friday night and that the Novato PD and the FBI had already investigated. They didn’t buy it and brought me in. They opened the suitcase and found the money. Fillmore didn’t answer his phone and they’re trying Novato PD now. You’re my one call.”

  “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes, but you’re coming with us one way or the other. We have to go back to Bettadapur’s to free Carla and her team. They’ll be there only another three or four hours, and they’re guarded.”

  “Bettadapur’s? Christ, we’ll be all over the CCTV footage. The same cops from last night might be back on the scene. Pack all the weapons and ammo we have.”

  “Will do. You want me to mention anything to Barb? Last I checked, she was asleep.”

  “Leave her out of this. It’s already bad enough.”

  Sal hung up and met a gimpy Melvin in the front hallway. “We’ll need two cars for the eight of us,” Sal said. “I’ll take the Audi and you drive my daughter’s junker. The keys are by the door.”

  “I can drive straight, but with this shoulder I can’t turn for shit. Besides, a black man with a bandaged-up shoulder isn’t going to make it two miles in this quarantine. They teach anything about racial profiling at the country club? I don’t aim to be the next George Floyd.”

  “All right, we’ll take my car. If Jaime gets his truck back, we can use that. If not, we’ll swing back here for the Caprice.”

  “Depending on where we’re headed, I might have a better option. Last night I left a gassed-up Tahoe near that sick dentist’s house. I still have the key.”

  “That could come in handy. Can you move the weapons from Travis’ truck to the Audi’s trunk? I’ll gather what we have inside. We’re headed to the police station to convince them to release Jaime. They didn’t like the suitcase full of money or the blood all over his Ford.”

  “Ah, fuck, and you think they’ll listen to me?”

  “C’mon, we can’t waste time. You can wait for us in the car.”

  * * * * *

  The Englishman collected Stephanie and Tyson from the cafeteria and showed them to a teacher’s lounge, where he plopped down Melvin’s trash bags containing the diapers, bottles and formula. “I cut the phone lines, so don’t waste your time. Let me explain the ground rules. You don’t leave this room without permission. You want something, stick your head outside and ask the guard. If the door’s locked, you wait. There’s a staff toilet you can use. I already sanitized it. We’ll bring meals in here and sterilized bottles twice a day, and there’s a gym we can escort you to if you want to work out. Let me know if you run low on something, and I’ll do my best.” Burns tilted his head. “Why aren’t you wearing your facemask?”

  “I’m immune or I’d be dead. The woman who took my blood an hour ago told me as much.”

  “Ah, that would be our scientist, Katerina. She lacks a proper bedside manner. As your baby’s blood cured me, our hypothesis is your blood contains the same antibodies in high concentrations. You should have an easy time of it as all you have to do is donate blood periodically. You should eat and drink as much as possible to keep your weight up. And don’t try to escape. The doors are wired with explosives, so no one goes in or out. Violate the rules once, you lose access to your baby.”

  “I see. When will you free us?”

  “If Katerina produces an effective treatment from your plasma, after we inoculate ourselves we’ll produce as long as we have customers. That could be a few weeks or a month, so not too long. I thought you might want to read, so I popped round the library and picked out three American classics: Light in August, For Whom the Bell Tolls and The Grapes of Wrath.” Burns left her alone with her sleeping son, coughing twice into his elbow as he walked out.

  Stephanie ruminated on what she’d just heard. If Katerina was right and there were fifty doses per half-liter of blood and she could donate every six weeks, they would run out of customers before they sold one hundred cures. She’d seen each of the kidnappers’ faces—they’d made no attempt to cover themselves—which meant they were never going to let her go.

  * * * * *

  Sleepy Mark’s patience had worn thin and he was on the verge of breaking down the restroom door when a smiling Carla emerged. She’d insisted that Ron pull in for a bathroom break, and John had convinced him to do so. He’d escorted her to the back of Spice Bob’s Gas Station and Mini-Mart when she casually asked him if she could borrow his phone and let her mother know that everything was okay.

  Carla returned his phone, stroking his fingers with hers as she stared into his eyes. “Thanks, she was so relieved to hear from me. You’re such a gentleman. How about you buy me some dinner when we’re done?”

  He told himself that she was just a tease or a nympho: Fifty-three-year-old security guards with ear hair didn’t attract women of her ilk. Flustered, he said, “I think they’ll want us to go straight back to the lab.”

  “Well, it’ll take hours to sort out the lab equipment, decontaminate it and load up, so we won’t be back before midnight. You wouldn’t let me go that long without eating, would you?”

  “We can work something out.” From the front, they heard Ron’s impatient honk and started walking. Before they turned the corner, Carla gave John’s hand a last squeeze, which he reci
procated.

  * * * * *

  Melvin stayed in the Audi and listened to Radio Sausalito’s jazz while Sal marched up the steps and into the lion’s den. The first cop he saw directed him to the duty sergeant. “I’m here to collect Jaime Gonzalez. My name’s Salvatore Maggio and he’s my son-in-law.”

  The sergeant, a large black woman with a Blue Lives Matter facemask, thumbed through the charge sheets. “He’s been ticketed for violating quarantine and released.”

  What the hell? Sal pulled out his phone and saw that he’d missed a text: I’m in interview room 2. Help. With the sergeant’s directions, Sal found it. Inside sat a plainclothes Hispanic officer who faced Jaime from across the table. “Close the fucking door,” the detective said without turning around.

  Sal made brief eye contact with Jaime. “What’s this all about? Why can’t he leave?”

  The officer was in his forties and acne scars showed above his facemask. His hair was greasy, and his bare forearms sported what looked like prison tats. “Any time he likes, he can fuck off out of here along with you.”

  “Not without my money,” Jaime said.

  “Your money, my ass. I impounded that suitcase because it contains the proceeds of illegal activity. You don’t even know how much is in there because you ripped it off.”

  “There’s four hundred and ninety-eight thousand dollars, all of it in hundreds,” Sal said. “I sold all my stocks and bonds last Thursday and picked up the cash on Friday. My son-in-law had just paid for a luxury mobile home when you arrested him. We’re headed to Mexico to escape this plague.”

  “Bullshit.”

  Jaime whipped his phone out and found the email exchange. He spoke rapidly in Spanish and thrust the screen under the detective’s nose. Sal couldn’t follow the conversation but didn’t need to: The email exchanges would document the RV dealer's correspondence. The cop scowled as he scrolled through the email chain.

  “I can go home and produce the paperwork,” Sal added. “It will take about an hour. If you return the suitcase and save us time, I’ll pay the quarantine ticket on the spot in cash.”

  The detective looked at them both and weighed his chances. “Ten grand and I tear up the ticket and give you the suitcase.”

  Jaime turned red, but Sal stopped him with a raised hand and a firm voice. “Agreed. Bring the money. I’ll count it and pay you.”

  The detective stood up. “Give me a minute to get the suitcase out of the property room. I’ll meet you outside in the staff lot.”

  As Jaime and Sal walked out, the younger man couldn’t contain his anger. “You agreed to pay him ten grand? That fucking thief should be—”

  “Have you ever heard of asset forfeiture? It’s a miracle that we’re getting anything back at all, even if we had the time to go to trial. So, smile and be polite.”

  Ten minutes later, Jaime and Sal each had handwritten endorsements that listed their vehicle makes and models, names and drivers’ license numbers, and descriptions as undercover operators on assignment to the San Rafael PD July 13-15. Any law enforcement agency or first responders encountering either person should offer assistance. At the bottom, Detective Marco Cruz provided his signature, badge number and cell phone number. Sal called it to be on the safe side and earned a sneer from Cruz as his trouser leg pulsed.

  Back in the Audi, Sal waited for Jaime to retrieve his truck from the back lot. “That took a long time,” Melvin said. “What happened?”

  “I bought us a pair of Get Out of Jail Free cards for three days. Twenty thousand dollars and well worth it.”

  Melvin shook his head. “Twenty grand to throw around? Shee-yit.”

  “Buckle up, here comes Jaime. We drive fast.”

  * * * * *

  Travis awoke with a headache he judged was a slight concussion, an immobile left upper arm, a badly bruised left ankle and a hole in his stomach. His ears still rang. He remembered the clinic and a drive: This must be Sal’s home. He slaked his thirst with the bedside pitcher and steeled himself for a trip to the head. Fuck it. He drank most of the rest, then peed into the jug before he slumped back onto the uncomfortable pull-out bed. He checked his watch, and an electric shock ran through his body. Five o’clock! He had to be in Livermore by eight. Frantically, he located his phone on the side table, but the battery was dead. “Sal, Sal! SAL!” he yelled. Memories trickled back into his foggy head: Maung was dead, torn apart by the blast. The payback would be swift and merciless, but first he had to reach Livermore and save Carla.

  Barb Maggio stuck her head into the bedroom. “Sal’s not here. Everyone’s gone but Greg, Pat and me. Can I help?”

  “I need to borrow your car. If I’m not in Livermore by eight o’clock, Carla’s in serious trouble.”

  “You’re in no shape to drive, but I can take you.”

  “You’re a lifesaver. Help me find my clothes. I need to get dressed.”

  “I laundered them earlier. They’re in the drier and are bloody rags.”

  * * * * *

  Sal mused that a return to last night’s crime scene boded ill. Without Travis or Jaime to speak with, Melvin was his only companion on the drive down the 101 South. Detective Cruz’s bogus pass came in handy at the blockade set up before the Golden Gate toll booths. Once he had the document safely back in his hand, Sal indicated to the highway patrolman that the pickup truck behind them was part of the same operation. Much to his relief, the officer waved Jaime through after a glance at his identical credentials without looking inside and discovering a backseat out of a slasher movie.

  Once across the bridge, they passed more gas-starved vehicles. The roadside pedestrians first implored and then cursed the two-car convoy as they wove past. The end of civilization would come when the power went out or the food handouts ended: Armed mobs would roam the streets and cannibalize each other, first figuratively and then literally. Sal’s team didn’t have much time to find Steph and Tyson irrespective of what the kidnappers did. He felt his stomach tense. He calmed down and recalled Melvin’s interview at the vet. The bio-mercenaries’ goal was to make a Covid-20 cure and sell it over the dark web. Sal didn’t know much about the onion router, but he would track every possible sales outlet he could find. He’d pose as a buyer and maybe trace the drug back to the source via the courier. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

  Sal’s phone lit up. He was surprised to see Barb’s name on the screen. “Hi, honey. How are you?”

  “Travis wants to speak with you.”

  “Barb’s taking me to Livermore so I can bust out Carla,” Travis said. “I have to be there at eight o’clock when they truck their med waste to the incineration plant.”

  “Carla called and that plan’s off. She’s at Bettadapur’s in Burlingame of all places, along with four of her team. Jaime, Melvin and I are taking two cars down to get them. It’s a long story, but we have safe-conduct passes from the San Rafael police and they work. In another ten minutes, we should be on the 280. How do you feel?”

  “Like hell, but that’s great news about Carla. But I still need to go to Livermore and tell Maung’s wife and kids. Presumably, the plan’s still on for them to come with us to Canada along with Arkar and his family?”

  “Absolutely, but you should be in bed. The quarantine’s tighter: We’ve had to show our papers twice so far. Head back, call Arkar and tell him about Maung, then use him for whatever’s needed. If you can, sort through those garbage bags I put out on the deck. See if there’s any clue about where the kidnappers went. We’ll be back with Carla and her team as soon as we can. We’ll need a place to hide them. Give that some thought too.”

  Typically, Travis would have told Sal to get fucked and carried on. But these weren’t ordinary times and just sitting upright hurt his guts. He gave it a few seconds more thought and acquiesced. “Fine. We’ll turn around. Once you have Carla, let me know the names and addresses of everyone in her group. We’ll need to move their families as well, and Arkar can help.”

 
“All right. When we get to Bettadapur’s, Jaime will reconnoiter, and we’ll try to call you before we move.”

  “Sounds like a plan, but my phone’s dead. Call Barb instead.”

  “One last thing. There’s an ICU nurse in my bedroom tending to Pat. Unless you have a relapse, steer clear of her: both Pat and the nurse came from Mount Marin and could be exposed.”

  “Gotcha.” Travis put down the phone in time to grab the hand-loop above the door as Barb exited the 101 South and pulled multiple G’s as she circled under the main road to reverse direction. “Take it easy!” he said. “We’re no good to anyone if we crash.”

  Barb replied by mashing the gas pedal. She was angered by her father’s sermon about leaving Mom alone. That was aimed at her, not Travis. Someone had to pay, and since Jaime wasn’t around, this bastard would have to do.

  chapter twenty-eight

  BREAKOUT

  Monday, July 13: Oakland and Burlingame, California, late afternoon into evening

  Until the start of her third term, Stephanie had exercised daily and had significantly benefited from the mixture of light cardio and weight training. Since she’d been taken, her heart raced without provocation and her thoughts oscillated from calm to panic. She practiced controlled breathing and took stock of her situation. Fraser Burns was the good cop and not to be trusted more than the others. She doubted he or the rest of them knew she was trained in Krav Maga, so that sat in her favor if she was confident enough to use it.

  As Tyson slept, she worked out in the breakroom, performing sets of sit-ups, chair dips, Bulgarian split squats, planks and pushups. She used the time to reflect further. To start with, it was a miracle that she and Tyson were alive. Her father’s theft of the experimental drug had saved them both. Whatever had happened since wasn’t his fault. Next, it was nothing short of wondrous that the drug had transformed her and Tyson’s bodies into potential reservoirs of life. She could think of no higher calling than to dedicate herself to saving other Covid victims. These realizations put her mind at rest and left her ready for the ordeals to come. She would get through this with Tyson and reconcile with her father.