Hot Zone (Major Crimes Unit Book 2) (4 page)

H
oward
pulled the Range Rover up in a skid, leaving it in a disabled bay right outside
the main doors of the hospital. His ‘Official’ plates would take care of any
complainers.

“Where will we find Krenshaw?” he asked Dr Hart in the seat
beside him.

“He oversees a training scheme for interns wanting to
specialise in childhood diseases. His experience with the African orphanages
makes him a key expert in the field. Many doctors have studied under him.”

“Then I hope he is innocent,” said Howard. “He sounds like a
saint.”

They headed through into the calm reception area and caught
the attention of a receptionist, who seemed surprised then flustered by their
urgency.

“C-Can I help you?”

Howard flashed his MCU badge. “Dr Krenshaw, where is he?”

The receptionist didn’t need to check her computer. She knew
off the top of her head. “He’s on the 1
^st
floor. Seminar Room 2.”

Howard took Dr Hart by the arm and got her moving again. “I
may need you to point him out to me. I don’t want to announce my presence, in
case he runs.”

“This is crazy.”

“I do crazy for a living,” he said.

They took the stairs up, dodging past sick children still
well enough to play ball in the corridors. Upstairs was quieter; deserted, in
fact. From the signs on the walls and doors, it seemed that the 1
^st
floor was dedicated to training and
research. It had only one ward and that was a cancer ward. No doubt the sickest
children were placed upstairs because it was more peaceful. Howard hoped that
apprehending Krenshaw would be a calm affair.  He was carrying a gun
inside his jacket but had no intention of using it unless he had to, yet he
followed protocol and unpopped the holster.

Dr Hart moved a little ahead of him and stopped just short
of the door into Seminar Room 2. She turned to him and said, “You’re not going
to hurt anyone, are you?”

“I will do whatever the situation requires, Dr Hart. I
understand you have divided loyalties here, but someone is responsible for
infecting hundreds of people with Ebola. What do you expect to happen? If
Krenshaw is our man, do you expect him to shrug and say, ‘Oh dear, you caught
me?’ That’s not how these things go.”

Dr Hart looked like a sad kitten and Howard felt bad about
being stern with her, yet he had a job to do and couldn’t let her distract him.
“You should stay here,” he said. “I know I wanted you to point him out, but I
would rather you out of the way unless necessary. There’s no other way out of
this room, is there?”

“I don’t think so. I’ll stay right here.”

Howard approached the door and carefully opened it. Inside
he found a small classroom of a dozen desks and twice as many seats filled with
scribbling students. They all looked up at Howard as he entered, but Howard’s
focus went to the front of the room where a large whiteboard lay unattended.
The classic teaching position at the front of the classroom was unmanned.

“Where is Dr Krenshaw?” Howard asked the students.

A young brunette in spectacles answered his question. “He
was unable to take the class today. He’s helping the Paediatric Haematology
department. It’s on the ground floor.”

Howard flew out of the classroom and grabbed a startled Dr
Hart. “He’s in the Haematology department. That’s blood, right?”

Dr Hart nodded as they hurried. “Yes. This hospital
specialises in malignant blood borne infections. They perform tests on children
from all over the area to help study and diagnose Leukaemia and various
lymphomas.”

“I don’t like the sound of this,” said Howard.

“You don’t think he’s going to harm a bunch of children, do
you?”

Howard took the stairs three at a time, shouting out to Dr
Hart running behind him. “Whoever is behind the outbreak at Whiteknight is
capable of doing anything.”

“But Dr Krenshaw spent a decade
helping
children in
Africa.”

Howard saw the sign for MALIGNANT HAEMATOLOGY and headed in
its direction. “I don’t have the answers,” he said. “Dr Krenshaw does and I
intend to get them.”

“You don’t know he did anything. You don’t know anything for
sure.”

Howard burst through the double doors at the end of the
corridor and was met with the sight of a dozen sick children and their worried
parents. Their heavy-lidded, dark-eyed stares made him shudder. Once again he
felt like the very air itself was toxic and he forced himself to slow down.

“Are you okay?” Dr Hart asked him as he wobbled on his feet.

“I-I’m fine. I just…don’t like hospitals. My father had
three strokes before he died and my family seemed to be in and out of hospitals
for years. I think it’s the smell that brings back the memories.”

Dr Hart nodded. “They’re not meant to be fun places, but I’m
sorry you had such a bad experience.”

“Thank you. Let’s get this over with.”

Dr Hart pointed suddenly. “That’s Dr Krenshaw, over there.”

Howard followed her pointing finger to a tall, bony-faced
man in a white doctor’s coat. Krenshaw didn’t see Howard marching towards him
at first, but then he looked up from his clipboard and gave an expression of
curiosity, followed by something else — was it concern?

“Dr Krenshaw?” asked Howard.

“Yes?” The man noticed Dr Hart standing beside Howard and
nodded. “Stevie, always a pleasure to see you.”

Dr Hart shuffled her feet and averted her eyes. “Thank you,
Alistair. You too.”

Howard took charge of the conversation, not wanting to give
the doctor time to put his thoughts in order. “Dr Krenshaw, I am Agent Hopkins
with MCU. Is there somewhere we can talk privately?”

Dr Krenshaw flashed a smile and said, “Of course, please,
right this way.”

He led Howard and Dr Hart though the ward towards a staff
area at the back. All of the nurses seemed baffled by what was going on, but
all of them smiled and nodded at Dr Krenshaw, obviously a man they liked and
respected. Howard wavered momentarily from his certainty that Krenshaw was the
man responsible for the outbreak. Perhaps he wasn’t. All the same, questions
needed answering.

“Just through here.” Dr Krenshaw directed them.

Howard and Dr Hart moved past Krenshaw into a private office,
but, as they did so, Krenshaw snatched out at Dr Hart and wrapped his arm
around her throat, placing himself behind her. Howard spun around, ready to
act, but stopped when he saw that Krenshaw had produced a syringe and placed it
against Dr Hart’s neck.

“HIV,” Krenshaw stated calmly. “That is what is inside this
syringe. Not quite as elegant as Ebola, granted, but just as incurable.”

Dr Hart was frozen in unblinking terror. Her eyes were
stretched wide and focused on Howard.

Howard backed off, kept his hands where everybody could see
them. “Let’s not do anything unnecessary, Doctor.”

“Everything I have done is necessary.”

 “I don’t understand. Explain it to me. Why Ebola? Why
this?”

“Because people need to care.” Krenshaw’s lips moved into a
snarl. “We cosy up in front of our televisions or sit on our air-conditioned
trains listening to our iPods while half the world suffers in poverty. People
in China toil in factories so that we can have cheap goods. Families in the
Middle East live in dirt because any wealth their countries have either goes to
us or the puppet governments we have left to rule over them. Africa is full of
starving and sick children because we would rather spend our money growing fat
and gluttonous than sharing with the 3
^rd
World what we have. Maybe if the children of Britain start dying from Ebola,
HIV, and malaria, we might just get down off our pedestals long enough to
notice those begging at our feet. This country makes me sick. Now it is my turn
to make
it
sick.”

Howard nodded as if he understood, although he didn’t. It
was a worldview far too simplistic for him to accept “You’re doing this to
teach a lesson?”

“Yes. The only lesson this country will ever listen to. We
are content to watch little black children and little Asian children dying on
our television screens — it’s no different to any other form of entertainment —
but I wonder how indifferent this nation will be when it joins the 3
^rd
World in its suffering and little white
children begin to die. I’m sure it will be only too happy to fund all the cures
the world needs then.”

“I understand,” said Howard. “It makes sense. I have seen
the sick and the dying, too, thanks to what you have done, and I definitely see
things differently now. Your plan has worked. I’m sure extra money is being
spent on Ebola as we speak. You can stop all this. It doesn’t need to go
further.”

Krenshaw shook his head with a grimace. “Eradicating Ebola
won’t even make a dent in the world’s ills. There are a hundred more diseases
that need attention, like the one inside this syringe.”

Dr Hart spoke up, her voice aquiver. “Don’t do this,
Alistair. HIV is being cured. We’re almost there.”

“Then let me help speed things along.”

Howard watched in horror as Krenshaw pumped the contents of
the syringe into Dr Hart’s neck, before shoving the wailing women away. The
smart move would have been for Howard to leave Dr Hart and pursue Krenshaw, but
rationality took no part in his decision as he wrapped his arms around the
sobbing woman and helped her to the ground as she clawed desperately at her
neck.

Krenshaw was out the door before Howard even had time to
glance up. He didn’t want to imagine what the murderous doctor would do next.

S
arah
was sat eating a sandwich when her father came barging back into the office
where he had left her to think. And think she had.

In a way her father seemed proud of her. She’d followed in
his footsteps, after a fashion, and managed to take down a man he himself had
been after. She’d also prematurely finished her military career at a rank only
one below his own, although her regiment in no way compared to the inimitable
SAS. The Special Air Service were so tough that they often went overseas to
train other nation’s Special Forces. The only ones anywhere near as brutally
efficient were the Russian Alpha Group and the US Navy Seals. Sarah herself had
passed the entry tests for the SAS but was denied on the basis of her gender.
Women did not belong in the Special Forces.

But then she had joined MCU, a joint enterprise between the
USA and UK that had promised to be the epitome of counter-terrorism and
intelligence. It had initially fallen short, but Sarah’s actions helped elevate
it to its intended position. Over the last few months, she had watched the
various news reports discussing the increased funding and prestige of the
organisation and she could not help but feel satisfied. She knew the men and
women who worked at MCU were hardworking and dedicated, and it pleased her to
hear of their increased prosperity.

“We have a new mission,” her father said. “Are you in or
out?”

Sarah put down her sandwich and cleared her throat. “I
finally stop being a hostage and now you want me to take a job with you?”

“I want nothing, Sarah. You are my daughter and duty demands
I offer you a chance to do something with your life. With that face you have no
chance of finding a man, so at least I can no longer blame you for failing to
settle down. If military is your chosen path, I promise you will find no
greater vocation than the one I am offering you.”

“What’s the job?” she asked.

“A manhunt. We are to apprehend a doctor and return him to
the South African government who want him for biological attacks on the border
towns of their country.”

“This doctor has killed people?”

“Many.”

Sarah stood up, brushed bread crumbs off her lap. “Okay, I’m
in.”

The famously morose Major Stone actually managed a slight
smile. “Then let’s get you into something suitable. We leave on the hour.”

Sarah was hustled into an old locker room that had probably
once belonged to the staff of whatever business once operated inside the
warehouse. She was given a set of combat fatigues to change into and then, once
she was dressed, was led back out into the middle of the warehouse’s main
floor. A trail of blood snaked a path to wherever Rat had scurried off to.

The grey haired, ponytailed man, whose forehead she had
sliced, motioned for her to join him at a bench in the centre of the room. He
beamed at her, despite the thick bandage taped to his forehead.

“Sorry about that,” she said, pointing to his bandage.

“Hey, I was about to do far worse to you, so forget about
it.”

Sarah shrugged. “Fair enough. I’m Sarah.”

“Of course you are. I’m Ollie.”

Sarah frowned.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, you just don’t seem like an Ollie.”

“Call me what you like. I don’t mind.”

“No, Ollie is fine.”

Ollie yanked a tarpaulin off the bench and Sarah whistled at
what she saw.

“Top of the line stuff,” he explained, running an
appreciative hand over the assortment of firearms and ammunition.

Sarah spotted a familiar 9mm SIG and picked it up. “Mind if
I take this one?”

“Sure. The boys are too manly to go for the P226, they
prefer something bigger like a .45, but I always stock it because it’s a nice
shooter and easy to conceal. I’ve used it a time or two myself, so it’s well looked
after.”

Sarah could see the truth of it. The small, black pistol
gleamed with a thin layer of oil and the cocking action was the smoothest she’d
ever felt. There was even a delicate laser sight attached to the bottom of the
muzzle.

Ollie picked up a sheath with the handle of a Ka-Bar knife
sticking out the top. “Back-up,” he said, handing it to her. “US Marines swear
by ‘em.”

Sarah took the sheath and fastened it to her utility belt.
All of a sudden she felt like she was acting in some play. Only hours before
she had been a prisoner and now she was suited and booted like a GI Joe. It was
all a bit surreal.

Her father came up from the far end of the warehouse,
followed by the rest of his men, all suited up in the same combat uniforms as
Sarah; even Rat, who now walked as if uninjured. Whatever painkiller they had
given him was stronger than anything over the counter. The weasely man glared
when he saw her.

Sarah’s father took the floor, his men standing to
attention. “Alright, men,” he barked. “We have a new team member and, while she
may be a woman, she is my daughter also, with a set of balls almost as big as
my own.”

There was sprinkling of laughter from everybody except Rat.

“Now,” Major Stone continued. “Sarah took a few lumps out of
a couple of you, but remember that you all went through similar trials of
initiation once upon a time. All is fair. There will be no grudges.” He shot a
quick glance to Rat, who recoiled. “Our next target is a doctor by the name of
Alistair Krenshaw. He is wanted for using human test subjects on the borders of
South Africa. He is a suspected terrorist with designs on biological warfare.
It is believed the atrocities he committed in South Africa were trial
experiments for something much bigger. He has been back, working in the UK for
two years now, an expert in his field. The South African government has not
forgotten or forgiven his crimes, though. We have a sighting on him nearby and
we are going to pick him up in a nice quick ‘stop and grab.’ No casualties. No
unnecessary attention.”

Sarah swallowed. Never having served under her father
before, this was the first time she’d witnessed him in action. The complete
respect and attention of his men was something she could never hope to emulate.
He was one of them, yet above them in every way.

Major Stone marched over to the weapons bench and picked up
a Colt Commander with a walnut grip, then cocked it with ease. “We have fought
and beaten men of all kinds,” he said. “We have fought entire armies and won.
We have killed kings and sultans, men who thought themselves Gods, yet were
forced to weep as we brought them crashing down to earth. We are peerless.
Superior to marines, paratroopers, and even the SAS itself. We are better than
them all. We are without equal and charged with the simple tasks of running
down a little doctor in a white coat. The poor bastard is going to piss
himself.”

Everybody laughed, except Sarah who was trying to comprehend
how this small band of mercenaries could compare themselves to the likes of the
SAS.

Major Stone also remained deadly serious and barked an
order. “Let’s move out, men.”

Sarah tried to speak with her father, but he turned and
marched away before she had chance. Ollie stood beside her instead, smiling
kindly. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I got your back.”

Sarah didn’t reply. She followed after the other men, still
utterly confused by how she’d suddenly been inducted into her absent father’s
private army. Somehow it felt like things were only going to get more
confusing.