Lethal Savage

by Dave Edlund

  “Not at all. I’ve supported this program without any reservations. I’ve done my job flawlessly. As soon as you give the order and deliver more powdered agent, we can resume the operation. I can have a quarter million bottles of Cascade Aqua Natural palletized and shipped to Africa within six weeks. We’ll keep the runs short—maybe a week or so—and sterilize the line so we can mix in standard production runs to keep up with local sales. After six, maybe nine months, we can begin targeting Bangladesh, or Pakistan, or India, or wherever.”

  Ming was shaking his head. “No.”

  Confused, Darnell looked over his shoulder at Corbett, who was standing behind him, and then back to Ming. “What do you mean, no? That’s been the plan from the day we first met.”

  “I’m afraid you misunderstood. That was never the plan. You see, I don’t care about ballooning populations in third-world countries. That problem will take care of itself. Disease, famine, war—the rich countries will never expend their resources to save those poor, retched people. Which means there will not be any reprieve for them. Nature will self-correct, just as you wished.”

  “No, that’s not what we agreed to at all. We need to—”

  Ming interrupted and rose from his chair, leaning over the table toward Darnell. “We need to do what? Enforce mass sterilization of populations against their will? Does that give you a clean conscious? Allow you to sleep at night?”

  “We agreed to this,” Darnell said.

  “You’re pathetic. And weak. That was never my plan. I only told you that so you would cooperate.”

  Darnell started to worry. “I’ll destroy the product. Everything that is packaged and ready to ship to Nigeria. All of it.”

  “Really? Do you think I care? And I suppose you’ll also threaten to go to the authorities. How will you explain that you willfully placed a human pathogen in your bottled water? You deliberately supplied that water to the Warm Springs tribe—you’ll be labeled a racist. I wouldn’t be surprised if you were convicted and sentenced to twenty years in prison.”

  “If I go down, so do you.” He started to rise, and suddenly felt a needle jab into his shoulder. He rounded on Corbett, who was still holding the syringe.

  He began to feel light-headed and his legs wobbled, but he still took a wild and ineffective swing at the security chief. Corbett easily ducked out of the way.

  “You’ve got some spunk,” he said with a chuckle. Then Darnell Price collapsed onto the floor. “He should be out for a couple hours at least.”

  “Take him to the warehouse. When he wakes up, have him sign the letter naming you as interim general manager.”

  Corbett had rolled Darnell onto his stomach and was clasping handcuffs on his wrists. “And if he refuses?”

  Ming shrugged. “Then your job will be to convince him. I need that document tomorrow morning.”

  Chapter 28

  Eugene, Oregon

  March 28

  In a rundown warehouse on the southwest side of Eugene, Darnell Price sat on a rickety cot in a dark room. At one time, the room was a large supply closet, with a floor drain and faucet that still worked. But only cold water came out of the tap, and it was a disgusting shade of brown. The bucket in the corner served as the toilet, and the plywood cap did little to hold back the stench. Darnell figured conditions would get revolting in short order if he was kept here very long.

  There were no windows, and an overhead fluorescent light was always on. The door creaked open, and Roger Corbett entered. A pistol was holstered on his hip.

  Corbett noticed Darnell’s eyes dart to the weapon. “Don’t even think about it. No one will hear a gunshot inside here. If you cooperate, you can still live a long and happy life. If you don’t… well, use your imagination.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Good question.” Corbett produced a folder with a pen clipped to the outside and laid it on the man’s lap. “It’s a letter. I want you to sign it.”

  Darnell read the letter. “I won’t appoint you as GM!”

  “Acting general manager. It’s only temporary, until you are able to return to work.”

  “I’m able to work now.”

  Corbett shrugged. “That could change quickly. I’m trying to be reasonable. But the choice is yours.”

  “What do you want with my company?”

  “Dr. Ming has made this request. I’m just following orders.”

  He tossed the folder onto the cot. “I won’t sign it.”

  Corbett drew the pistol. Darnell knew little about guns, and all that mattered now was that this gun, pointed at his legs, looked very big and very dangerous.

  “This is a SIG Sauer 9mm. A very reliable and deadly weapon. A favorite of armed forces and the police,” Corbett explained. “I will start at your ankle, and then go to your knee. The pain will be unimaginably excruciating. I’ve seen really tough men curl up and cry like a baby when shot in the knee. It won’t kill you, but you’ll probably never walk again.”

  Darnell knew he had no choice. “Okay. You win.” Reluctantly, he signed the document and closed the folder. Corbett snatched it away.

  “Now, tell me the password for your phone.”

  “Why do you want my phone?”

  Corbett rasied his brows in an exaggerated expression. “Because I need to check your messages and call log to be certain you are not withholding any important information.”

  A beaten man, Darnell complied.

  “Very good, Mr. Price. You have been most helpful.”

  “How long are you going to keep me here?”

  “That question is above my pay grade. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to see a certain notary and have your signature authenticated.”

  “You can’t do that.”

  “I have your driver’s license, and you’d be surprised what some people will do for a modest amount of money.”

  s

  Peter awoke in his room at the Hilton in downtown Eugene. After a quick shower, he dressed and checked out. He had phoned Kate the previous afternoon and asked if she would stay at his place and take care of Diesel for the night. She seemed to accept his excuse that the business meeting had taken longer than expected, and that he thought it better to spend the night and be fully rested before driving over the mountains back to Bend in the morning.

  He planned to have breakfast and then, around mid-morning, pay a visit again to Cascade Aqua. He’d come to the conclusion that any samples he could obtain from current or prior production lots would be better than going home empty handed. And if all the samples he could obtain came back from the lab negative with respect to pathogens, then he’d simply have to accept that his theory was bogus.

  He parked his car in the same visitor spot he’d used previously and walked inside to greet the receptionist. “Good morning,” he said. “I was here yesterday for a meeting with Mr. Price. I have some additional business matters to discuss. Is he available?”

  “I’m sorry,” she replied. “He’s not in. Is there someone else who can help you?”

  Peter hadn’t expected that Price may not be at work yet. Thinking fast, he recognized an opportunity. “Uh, yes. Is the shift manager available? I just need to pick up some samples that Mr. Price promised to gather yesterday.”

  It didn’t take long for a short, portly, middle-aged woman to enter the lobby. “My name is Wendy. May I help you?” she said to Peter.

  After brief introductions, Peter relayed his request. Wendy frowned and said, “I’m sorry, but I didn’t get the message. You’ll have to come back when Mr. Price is in.”

  “Well, that’s a problem. I live in Bend, and it’s a long drive just to come back here for the samples. Mr. Price assured me yesterday that I could pick them up this morning. I only need a bottle or two from each production lot in the warehouse. I’m happy to pay you for them.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh God no. I’ll be buried in paperwork all day long if you pay for it. What ever happened to going paperless, anyway?�
�

  Peter stared back in silence.

  “Come on,” she said with a sigh. “Let’s see what I can put together for you.”

  Peter followed Wendy into the warehouse. She handed an empty cardboard box to him and then went from staging area to staging area, checking the placard and then extracting a couple sample bottles of each production lot. She’d come back later and replace the bottles with fresh product to eliminate any shortages. “Are you sure two of each lot is sufficient?” she asked.

  “Yeah, that will be fine.”

  The last samples came from the cases earmarked for shipment to Nigeria. “You must be proud, your product is going all the way to Africa,” Peter said as the last bottles were placed inside his now-heavy box.

  “Yeah, I suppose. I don’t know why we have to go halfway around the world to give away our water. If you ask me, plenty of good people right here in this community who could benefit from free bottled water.”

  Grateful for the help, Peter thanked Wendy and went on his way. He exited through the warehouse entrance so as not to attract any inconvenient attention if he traced his pathway back through the manufacturing line and lobby.

  While he was carrying the case of bottled water to his car, Roger Corbett entered the lobby. He had visited the company several times, and the receptionist easily recognized him. He extracted an official document from a large envelope and handed it to the receptionist. “This document says I am the acting general manager until such time as Darnell Price returns to work.”

  “Is Mr. Price going to be okay?” she asked.

  Corbett flashed a smile. “Yes. It’s a personal matter, and I’m not at liberty to go into any details. This is just a temporary situation. If anyone is looking for Mr. Price, or has business with the company, send them to me.”

  “Well,” she said, “a man was just here asking for Mr. Price. He said he was to gather samples from the recent production runs.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “He was rather persistent, so I called up the shift manager.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “They went out back, I think to the warehouse.”

  Corbett dialed his phone, and just started to speak when the receptionist said, “There he is, in the parking lot.” She was pointing to the Rolls Royce Wraith. A man had the trunk lid open.

  “Yes! Now!” Corbett shouted into the phone and then he ran out of the lobby. The sleek sedan was not parked far from the door, and Corbett had a pistol aimed at the man.

  “Stop what you’re doing! Raise your hands!”

  Startled, Peter looked around the trunk lid straight into the barrel of the gun.

  “Who are you?” Corbett demanded. “And what are you doing?”

  “Relax. My name is Peter Savage. I’m just placing a case of water in the trunk.”

  “We don’t sell direct to the public. You must have stolen that.”

  “No, I didn’t steal anything. The shift manager gave me these samples. Her name is Wendy. You can ask her yourself if you don’t believe me.”

  “The shift manager doesn’t have authority to give away company property.”

  “Fine. Just call the police. This can be resolved easily enough.”

  Corbett smirked. “The police work for me.”

  “Just put the gun down. It’s only a case of bottled water.”

  “Why do you want that water anyway?”

  “For analysis. I have concerns one or more production lots may be contaminated and making people sick.”

  Two SUVs entered the parking lot and screeched to a stop, drawing Peter’s attention. Four men jumped out and surrounded him. One pulled his arms behind his back and cuffed his hands.

  “Hey! What are you doing?” Peter exclaimed. “Just call the police!” An unmarked police car with flashing lights in the rear window skidded to a stop behind the SUVs. Dressed in slacks and a blazer, the driver strode forward and flashed his badge. He placed his hands on his hips and faced Corbett. “Problem here? I got a call from one of your men.”

  Peter exhaled a sigh of relief. “Thank God you’re here, officer.”

  The man swung his head toward Peter. He didn’t look to be more than thirty-five years old, with black hair and narrow, beady eyes. He was thin and had a sickly pallor with visible acne scarring. With the exception of a mustache that curled down just beyond the edge of his lips, he was clean shaven. “It’s Detective Jackson to you, mister.”

  Peter took a breath and slowed down, surprised by the hostility from the police office. “Of course, sorry. Detective, as you can see, we have a problem here.”

  Jackson ran his eyes up and down Peter for an uncomfortably long moment, then he faced Corbett. “What’s the story?”

  “We caught this man stealing company property. When I approached him, he became very belligerent and threatening.”

  Jackson nodded. “Looks like you have the situation under control. Just be discrete, okay?”

  “Wait a minute! Peter took a step forward before being restrained by one of Corbett’s men. “It’s just a case of water and I didn’t steal it! The shift manager, Wendy, gave it to me. It’s samples for analysis.”

  Jackson pinched his eyebrows together. “You’d be wise to cooperate.” Then he strode back to his car and drove away, leaving Peter confused and shocked. What the hell is going on?

  Corbett holstered his pistol. “Take him to the warehouse. One of you drive his car over there and park it inside. I don’t want it to be visible from the street. I’ll be right behind you. And make sure you take his phone.”

  The receptionist had seen everything and was agitated. Corbett told her that he was with the FBI and he flashed a fake badge and ID. He went on to say that Darnell Price was under investigation, and that his men had taken Peter Savage into custody. She was not to say anything of the matter, especially to other workers or to the local police. Until the investigation was concluded, there was no telling how many others might be involved.

  She didn’t ask what crimes Mr. Price and other workers were suspected of, and Corbett judged his threat to have had the desired effect. Hopefully, for her sake, she would be quiet. Otherwise, he would deal with her, too.

  Chapter 29

  Eugene, Oregon

  March 28

  The large warehouse door opened automatically and the SUV containing Peter and two of Corbett’s men entered, followed by the Rolls Royce, the second SUV, and finally Corbett driving a sporty sedan. The slab floor was amply large for all four vehicles to spread out. Diffuse daylight filtered in through dingy skylights in the sloped ceiling.

  All four men plus Corbett were brandishing pistols. “Get out,” one of the men ordered Peter.

  He slid off the seat and stood, slowly moving his head and taking in his new surroundings. “I would have been happy to pay for the water,” he said.

  “You shouldn’t go sticking your nose into affairs which are of no concern to you,” Corbett said. He closed the distance, stopping three feet in front of Peter.

  “Yeah. I’ve been told that before.”

  Corbett raised his eyebrows. “You should have listened.”

  “In hindsight, I’m inclined to agree with you.”

  “Bring him.” Corbett turned and walked away. Peter, flanked by two guards, followed.

  He opened a door that led into an area finished as office space, except that it was dirty, water-stained, and looked like it hadn’t been used for at least a decade. A utilitarian desk was to the right of the doorway. “Put his wallet, keys, and phone in the drawer,” Corbett ordered.

  They passed a large room that, at one time, may have functioned as a breakroom, and two smaller rooms that had most likely been used as offices. They stopped in front of a closed door. It looked industrial, fabricated of metal with a standard latch and a heavy-duty deadbolt.

  Corbett inserted a key and unlocked the deadbolt, then he opened the door. The fetid odor of stale urine assaulted his senses. He motioned
to one of the guards. “Empty that bucket.”

  The guard held a deep breath as he entered, grabbed the pail by the handle, and then disappeared, presumably to a washroom. Less than a minute later he returned with the empty bucket and slid it into the cell.

  Looking in, Peter saw Darnell Price standing near the far wall. “Are you releasing me?” Darnell asked. But his voice was devoid of hope.

  “All in due time,” Corbett said. “You have a new roommate. I understand you two know each other?”

  “We’ve met,” Peter said. A guard shoved him in and then slammed the door. The deadbolt locked closed with a distinctive metallic click.

  Darnell approached Peter. “Why did they lock you in here with me?”

  “Can’t say for sure, but if I had to venture a guess, I suspect it has something to do with the bottles of water your shift manager gave me.”

  Darnell hesitated as he considered how much he should share. “What are you talking about?” he said cautiously.

  “I planned to have them analyzed. All of the production lots in your warehouse.”

  “But you told me that the lab had already analyzed bottles of my water that the CDC people bought from stores in Warm Springs. You said nothing harmful was found.”

  “That’s right.”

  “So what’s the deal? Why can’t you just let this go?”

  Peter shrugged. “Call it a personality flaw. You see, when innocent people are being hurt or taken advantage of, I want to do all I can to help them. I suppose I favor the underdog. So yesterday, after we met, I got to thinking about all that water you plan to donate to Nigeria.”

  “And?”

  “At first, I thought you were being a genuinely nice guy. After all, the average person in Africa has a pretty tough life by our standards. But then I thought about all those cases of bottled water you gave to the Warm Springs Tribal Council.”

  “So what?”

  Peter shrugged. “Maybe nothing, maybe a lot. I guess I just have a suspicious mind. And I began to wonder why you would ship water all the way to Nigeria when there are so many needy people right here.”