Lethal Misconduct (3 page)

Cromwell looked out at his expansive view of the campus gardens and grinned. His retirement fund would almost double with this payment. Now, if he could only get his hands on Dr. Hunter Price and the rest of his stash.

Chapter 4

Charlottesville, Virginia

11:25am, April 4
th

Jonas had just finished explaining the impressive plans he’d developed for their new properties when the doorbell rang. Cal reached over and pressed the button on the video screen they’d had installed in each main room. Instantly the feed from the front door popped up.

There were three figures waiting, holding a variety of personal belongings. “Sorry, we already bought a case of Girl Scout cookies,” said Cal into the microphone that patched to the outside speaker.

Two of the men on screen lifted their right hands and extended their middle fingers.

The four men assembled in the kitchen laughed as Gaucho went to let the three visitors in.

“You have correctly identified our secret password,” said Cal in a bad British accent. “Our Mexican valet will be with you shortly.”

“Fuck you, Cal,” said Gaucho over his shoulder.

A moment later Gaucho reentered the kitchen with the three men in tow. The first, a near seven foot muscle-bound former lineman with a flat top and bulging black arms, entered with an easy smile.

“I thought you boys would be out trying to round up some co-eds,” said Marine Master Sergeant Willy Trent.

“Yeah,” said Neil Patel as he walked in next, the dark complexioned Indian-American dressed impeccably as usual with a pair of lime green pants and a stylish form fitting sweater to match. His eyes smiled behind the stone colored Dolce & Gabbana glasses. The tech genius had an above 200 IQ score just like Jonas, and could hack into almost anything that was connected to an electrical outlet. He and Cal had first become friends at the University of Virginia, and it had been Cal who’d recommend his friend to his father for employment. Neil Patel made a lot of money for Stokes Security International, mostly through his constant tinkering and highly lucrative licensing deals. “You break in the Biltmore yet?”

The two men joined the others with handshakes and hugs. They’d been through a lot together. Other than Travis, these men were the only family Cal had left. He would gladly give his life for any one of them, and almost had on more than one occasion.

The last man stood back and watched the welcome. Shorter than the others and portly where the others were fit, Dr. Alvin Higgins, one of the top interrogators in the country, and probably the world, took it all in.

“I wasn’t expecting you, Doc,” said Cal, walking over to shake the old CIA employee’s hand. While the Marine hated most shrinks, he loved Dr. Higgins. Behind his jovial facade lay a cold and calculating interrogator with the ability to extract information out of the most stubborn adversaries. His skills not only lay in the questioning, but in the apothecary-like crafting of potions that made criminals happy to tell the man in glasses, who liked the occasional pipe and talked like he could be from London, anything he asked.

“Nice to see you too, Calvin. Marjorie thought I might be of some use what with the change in SSI’s role.” Cal knew Higgins had made the last remark to see Cal’s reaction, and despite trying, Cal couldn’t help but wince.

“Does that mean you’ve decided to join our new fraternity?” asked Cal, the others now listening to the conversation.

“If you’ll have me, I’ve already put in a call to an old friend at the medical school. Depending on what you need, I am prepared to join your fraternity, as you call it.”

Cal couldn’t help but smile. Having Higgins would seriously boost their capabilities. Not only was the good doctor indispensable with enemies in hand, he’d also been part of Travis’s inner circle, the top of SSI, a highly valued part of the team.

“Are you kidding, Doc? We’d love to have you!”

There were cheers in the kitchen as they welcomed the last member of their team.

After the newcomers were shown to their temporary quarters (they were making due with multiple cots in each bedroom), the team gathered in the War Room to discuss their new mission. Cal took the lead.

“The president is giving us free rein. As long as we stay under the radar, we’re golden,” said Cal.

“What’s our focus? Where do we start?” asked Trent.

“That’s a good question, Top.” (Top is what Marines affectionately called their Master Sergeants.) “One of the reasons Jonas is here—”

“You mean beside his billions?” interrupted Gaucho.

There was an awkward pause as everyone looked to Jonas, some of whom had just met him for the first time. The billionaire suddenly burst out laughing, and gave Gaucho a perfectly executed middle finger. “You got that right!”

The others joined in, realizing that maybe this new guy wasn’t so bad.

“Now that Gaucho got the inappropriate comment out of the way, back to Top’s question. Our mission hasn’t changed much. We’re still looking for bad guys and taking them down, but now we have a new tool. Jonas has a gift for predicting everything from stock swings to elections. I won’t go into how he does it because, frankly, it’s way over my head, but I think it’ll help us track even better than we did before. The first step is to get him all the information he needs. Neil, that’ll be your job. You two know each other so you can figure out how to coordinate the work flow. The rest of us will help pick and choose what’s important and what’s actionable.”

“What do we do when we’re not working?” asked Trent.

“Are you already itching for liberty, Top?” asked Gaucho.

“You know me, buddy, always lovin’ libo. But seriously, until we get ramped up, I’m assuming we’ll have some time to kill. Doc Higgins will be helping at the med school. What will the rest of us do?”

“I know a couple restaurants nearby that could use your culinary skills,” said Neil, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Another middle finger and another round of chuckles.

“Other than helping out around here, you’ll be free to come and go as you please. Same deal as SSI,” said Cal. “If you want to take classes, I’m sure we can accommodate it, but the missions come first.”

Heads nodded around the room. Cal knew how to take care of his men. He trusted them completely. They’d find ways to stay busy until their operational level spiked.

“What about training?” asked Gaucho. “Are we still allowed to use the SSI facilities?”

SSI kept a second headquarters just outside Charlottesville in Albemarle County, not ten minutes from where they stood. Camp Cavalier was almost an exact replica of Camp Spartan near Nashville, including just over 2,000 acres, live-fire ranges and training facilities.

“We’ll have full use of both camps. We may not technically be part of the old company, but we’re still part of the family,” said Cal. “Any other questions?”

Dr. Higgins raised his hand. “What are we going to call this new outfit, Calvin?”

“It’s funny you asked, Doc. That’s the first thing we need everyone’s help with.”

Chapter 5

Gainesville, Florida

12:20pm, April 4
th

Dr. Hunter Price breathed a sigh of relief as he shut the door to his dilapidated motel room, paint peeling in numerous round spots along the faded baby blue walls. He latched the bolt and rested his back against the wall, exhaling.  For the last five hours, he’d gotten on and off public transportation, making sure he wasn’t being followed. His body ached from the strain, brain thrumming.

This was one of three rooms he’d rented for a week, with cash, for his brief stay in Gainesville. He was in no rush. There was plenty of money left in his secret bank account, completely untraceable thanks to an old friend in the business. He still had to be careful, but his travel funds had the ability to sustain him for years. He was eternally grateful to a highly efficient financial planner who took very good care of his investments.

Hunter Price came from money. His entire family had gone to Yale, including his mother and his aunts. It’s just what the Price family did.

It had all started with his grandfather, the stalwart Vincent Price, who’d immigrated to the United States from Poland shortly before the Second World War. Back then the family name was Koszt, which when asked about by the immigration official, was roughly translated to Price. From then on young Vincent embraced his new American name, enlisting as Private Price and being assigned to Gen. Patton’s U.S. 2
nd
Armored Division and later in U.S. II Corps. He’d become one of Patton’s favored translators due to his easy command of Polish, Russian and German.

Vincent Price left the Army during the post-war drawdown and used his military contacts to make a name in the business world. First opening a translation company that provided translators to the now divided Europe, he also found a new opportunity completely by accident.

On one of his trips overseas, Vincent purchased a glazed ornament for his new wife while traveling through Rome, a present for Christmas. Upon debarking, he happened to run into a wealthy business owner whom he’d met months before. The man asked Vincent about the package under his arm and Vincent showed him the beautiful ornament adorned with traditional Italian figurines.

The man’s eyes went wide. Gushing over the craftsmanship, he offered Vincent an astronomical sum for the item that was purchased for mere pennies from a one-legged street vendor. Like any good businessman, Vincent sold the gift to the man and reinvested the proceeds in a gold bracelet for his wife.

The incident planted the seed for Vincent’s new venture: importing. Through his friends both within the military and throughout Europe, Price’s Imports soon became one of the leading importers in the Northeast. Within two years, Vincent had secured his family’s future.

Years later, with his father’s money, and at his urging, Hunter’s father, Vincent Jr., ran for political office as soon as he received his law degree from Yale. Aided by Vincent, Sr., Vincent Jr. rose quickly through the ranks of the New York State Legislature and then in the United States House of Representatives. If it weren’t for his untimely death at the age of 40, Dr. Price had no doubt his father would still be in office.

Despite following in his family’s footsteps when it came to college, Hunter wanted to go into the military like his grandfather. Vincent Sr. tried to dissuade his grandson from serving, pushing him to use his biology degree to become a doctor. Hunter finally relented, but only after accepting a Navy commission and a full scholarship to the Uniformed Services University of Heath Sciences, a medical school dedicated to the training of military officers.

Due to his exceptional talent and high physical ability, Lt. Price’s first duty station was with the SEALs in Damn Neck, VA. He’d been accepted by the elite warriors, and at one point considered putting in a request to go to Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL Training (BUD/S). But a mission to Asia changed all that.

It was during that particularly scorching summer that three SEALs assigned to train Filipino Marines contracted an unknown illness. They’d medevaced the men with Lt. Price as their escort, landing in San Diego moments after Price had performed CPR on one of his patients, saving the man’s life.

He’d seen firsthand the work of the dedicated scientists from the CDC who’d helped triage the men and luckily diagnosed and cured them.

The incident opened Price’s eyes to a new world. While he loved his work with the SEALs, he knew his role would always be that of doctor, not operator. If he could somehow use his talents to eradicate deadly disease, he could help countless thousands if not millions.

With the blessing of his superiors, and a grudging nod from his grandfather, Hunter Price began his training with various branches of the CDC, with the intent of developing cures for some of the world’s deadliest killers. He’d taken to the work with zeal; sometimes not going home for days so entranced was he by the power of tiny organisms that could wipe out an entire civilization if given the chance. Soon he had his own lab and a staff of three.

It was on an exploratory mission to South America where his life changed forever. It was there, with a reclusive tribe not known for its hospitality, that Price found a piece of the puzzle. So simple and yet able to help millions.

Dr. Price thought back to that moment as he lay down on the double bed that smelled like mildew, staring up at the water stained ceiling, the fan thumping softly. His life was so different now. His grandfather was dead. His own career was gone, and he was on the run. If only he could figure out a way…

He’d been over it time and time again. It was impossible to contact any of his former colleagues. He didn’t know who he could trust. There was one person he knew he had to stay as far away from as possible: his old boss Col. Gormon Cromwell.

Chapter 6

Lombardi Cancer Center

Georgetown University Medical Center

Washington, D.C.

5:07pm, April 4
th

The halls bustled with activity, doctors and nurses shuffling from room to room. It was the smell in the place that bothered him, reminding him of his wife’s death nearly a decade before. She’d been in a similar facility, dying right before his eyes. He’d made a silent promise never to step foot in another hospital, but that wasn’t to be. He couldn’t control everything, although he tried.