The Chimera Sequence (40 page)

Adel led the way through an ornately patterned arched entryway into the small courtyard of the short hexagonal brick pavilion. The Summerhouse, he’d called it, built in 1880 and designed by the same man who did New York City’s Central Park. It was mostly ignored by tourists hurrying between bigger and better attractions, but much-appreciated by local joggers who often stopped for a cool drink at the water fountains.

There were no joggers now.

Haddad set his buckets down, stretching his fingers as he watched Adel dig into a pocket and pull out a large set of keys. He chose one and fit it into a small lock at the corner of the wrought iron grating blocking the entrance into the Summerhouse’s most unique feature, the Grotto.

“We’re going in there?” Haddad was skeptical. Behind the grating was a dimly lit scene that didn’t belong there in the shadow of the Capitol dome. In fact, it would have fit better tucked away deep within a hidden
wadi
cutting through the hills above his family’s village. Lush vegetation surrounded a small waterfall that trickled out from a rocky cave, first into a shallow pool and then a narrow stream. The water disappeared under the foundation beneath him before apparently feeding into the decorative fountain in the center of the Summerhouse.

“The Grotto, yes, as I told you,” Adel said quietly. “Just watch your step if you plan to keep your feet dry.”

Haddad followed him in, climbing up through the opening before picking his way down the rocks and into this unexpected oasis. The sweet scent of honeysuckle filled his nose as he felt the reaching vines brush against his face. The other two were right behind him, nearly filling the small space. Adel set his buckets down in the stream and crept back to the entrance, pulling the grating shut and sticking a hand back through to lock it.

No escape now.

“Faisal, you will stay here in the shadows and radio if there is any activity.” Adel placed a hand on the younger man’s arm. “No weapon unless we are already compromised.”

Haddad caught his cousin’s eye as he pushed past him. Did Adel really think he had already turned them in? He bit the inside of his cheek, wishing with all his might that he had.

Adel bent down under the overhanging rocks and disappeared momentarily into the darkness. A hand reached out. “Give me the buckets.”

Haddad passed all eight of the heavy containers into his cousin’s waiting hands, then ducked beneath it himself. The cold water was refreshing, soaking what was left of his hair and running down his sweaty face. Just past the cave’s opening, a short flight of stairs went down into a larger space. Or at least it felt larger, but he couldn’t even see the hands in front of his face. The air had a slightly stale, earthy smell that reminded him of the hidden cellar under the shed in his own yard. Now what? There was a creak of rusty hinges, and a faint crack of light appeared a few feet away, Adel’s body silhouetted against the opening doorway.

“The back entrance,” his cousin said. Haddad could hear the smile in his voice. “They’ll wish they had sealed this up long ago.”

Haddad was breathing fast when he finally reached the bottom of the three-story spiral staircase for the second time. They’d realized it was impossible to carry two buckets at once due to the tight curve and steep angle of the descent, and he’d been terrified of tripping over his own feet the entire way down, back up, and down again.

A red emergency exit light over a door in the distance gave the entire grounds maintenance department an eerie glow, and the steady hum of large machinery added to the unwelcoming ambiance.

“So this is where you work.” It was more a statement than a question. Now that he thought of it, he realized that though Adel had been to his restaurant and storage units countless times over the years, Haddad never once expressed an interest in visiting his cousin on the job.

“This is it, for one more day.”

Was there a hint of regret in his tone? Maybe so, but Haddad knew it wasn’t enough to change anything now.

“Where’s the access point?” Ahmad was already on the other side of the room, both hands running along a large cylindrical tank towering above him.

“All in good time,” Adel said, using another key to open up a wall-mounted control panel beside the tank. “We have to flush the system first—I don’t think the genuine fertilizer in here will be good for your virus.”

Haddad watched his cousin punch a series of numbers on the keypad. There was a short beep, and then a small screen lit up in front of him. A minute later, the mechanical whirring of a pump started up, followed by the sound of liquid draining out of the tank.

“That’ll go straight into the Potomac,” Adel said. “And people wonder how those mutant catfish get so huge.”

When it was finished, another series of commands resulted in a tinkling spray of water filling the tank from above.

“What’s that?” Ahmad asked.

“Just water—cleaning her out.” Adel picked up the large black duffel bag he’d carried slung across his back and ducked underneath the tank. “This will take a few minutes.”

Haddad heard the zip of the bag, then the knocking sound of metal on hard plastic.

Weapons.

“Are you staying here?” He hadn’t even considered that possibility, but it made sense. But did this mean he’d have to leave alone with the other two? Somehow, his cousin’s presence had given him a sense of security that was about to be pulled away completely.

There was a grunt from behind the tank, but that was it. So this was Adel’s last stand. A suicide mission to conclude all these years of patient waiting and preparation. Or maybe not. Maybe no one would think anything of a sprinkler system malfunction in the middle of the next night’s festivities, and they could all continue with their normal lives until sometime in the week ahead, when people all over the country started getting sick. Maybe there was still a chance of preventing this thing from happening at all.
Please, Allah, give me this chance.
Haddad brought a hand to his face and wiped the water that was still dripping into his eyes.

The rinse cycle finished, and the tank stood silent again.

“Now?” The edginess was obvious in Ahmad’s voice. “Every minute we are here is one too many.”

Adel came out from under the tank and pointed to a built-in ladder climbing up one end. “Fadi, you will do the honor.”

Haddad tilted his head to the side, eyebrows raised.

“Climb up the ladder, and we will pass you the fertilizer drums.”

Now he understood. Of course, they would give him this task. Then there would be no chance of defending himself against the charges.
Material support for acts that are dangerous to human life and intended to intimidate or coerce a civilian population within the territorial jurisdiction of the United States
. He had become very familiar with the PATRIOT Act’s definitions.

Haddad hated ladders, but he climbed anyway.

The round access port opened easily, and he leaned down to lift the first bucket from Ahmad’s raised arms. He balanced it on the top of the tank, unscrewed the cap, then tilted it precariously into the larger opening. The egg solution gurgled out of the bucket, filling his nose with that same evil scent from earlier in the evening. If he weren’t already exposed to the virus, there was no escape now.

His arms began to shake with the fifth bucket.
Steady now.
It went in like the others, but he didn’t know how he would manage the last three.

“That’s long enough,” Ahmad said.

Haddad had requested a short break before lifting the final bucket, and the muscles of his arms and back burned like they never had before. He reached for it, swinging it up and onto the tank just as he had done with all the others. This time, the cap popped off on its own, and a fountain of liquid death shot out of the opening and showered down over his head.

The smell and taste were overpowering, and Haddad had to swallow back the vomit that immediately filled his mouth. He teetered on the edge of the tank, desperately trying to keep his balance while holding the bucket in place with one hand.

“
Yekhreb betak
!” Ahmad swore loudly—may Allah destroy your house. He’d been hit by the geyser too.

Haddad willed his arms to lift the bucket one more time.
He already has
.

Finally, it was done. There was no turning back now.

He sat against the wall trying to clean the last of the slippery mess from his hair and face, only half-listening as the other two men finished their final preparations.

“—prime the system with a regular water-only cycle first,” Adel was saying, “so the solution is already mixed and ready at the sprinkler heads tomorrow night.”

“And what if you are discovered before the time has arrived?”

“I won’t be. My men are not the types who come into work when they are not needed.”

“But what if?”

Haddad rose to his feet and walked unsteadily over to where they were standing in front of the control panel.

“The cover will be locked and I’ve changed the startup PIN. It would have to be manually reset by a technician from the manufacturer, all the way down in Florida.”

Adel pressed some numbers on the keypad, and a time appeared on the screen. 10:00 p.m.

“There,” Adel said, hitting a green enter button and closing the panel’s cover. “The system is programmed and locked for a new fertilizing cycle set to start tomorrow night.”

Haddad closed his eyes. He might as well be dead already.

He followed Ahmad and Faisal back to the truck in a daze, only briefly noticing the heavy mist spreading through the air as it jetted out from evenly spaced sprinklers on either side of the path.
Priming the system
. Haddad imagined the organized network of pipes hidden in the earth beneath his feet, filling even now with a slowly diffusing solution of biological terror.

The same terror that was coursing through Myriam’s veins back in Fairfax.

He had to get back there.

The distant beat of dance music carried through the cool night air as Cole stepped out of the Metro’s 1st Street NE exit. It only took a few seconds to get his bearings. Union Station’s grand white marble towered over him, and a few blocks south he had a clear view of the Capitol dome rising up above the trees. In spite of the nonstop trouble he’d faced since landing at Andrews just twelve hours earlier, it felt good to be back home. Broadly speaking, of course. He’d take the grand mountain vista from his parents’ kitchen window over this one any day of the week.

A lonely cab idled around the corner in front of the main entrance, its driver leaning against the hood, hands in pockets, staring into space. When he saw Cole, he stood up and raised a hand.

“Looking for me?” he called.

Cole shook his head. “Sorry, just a quick walk from here.” He felt bad leaving this guy without a fare, but it should be an easy ten minutes to the twins’ apartment, and he didn’t have any cash.

Not dollars, at least.

He was halfway across Massachusetts Avenue, deep in thought about the imminent reunion with his siblings, when the piercing squeal of tires broke the silence. An old Ford pickup tore around the corner right behind him—not even a hint of a stop at the deserted intersection. He leapt to the side just in time, missing the truck’s front bumper by inches but catching the passenger side window with a somewhat purposeful open-handed smack.
Assholes.
Teach them to pay attention where they’re going. A fleeting glimpse through the window as the truck raced past revealed three Arab-looking guys—two of them about his age in the front, eyes focused on the road ahead, while a third older man stared right back at him from the rear bench seat.

Cole tried to catch the license plate number before the truck disappeared around the circle, but all he could see was the distinctive Maryland blue crab.

Three guys, not two, like the ones they were looking for. Still, his heart was racing.

The conversation with this Morgan chick from NSA had convinced him even more than he’d already been that the threat was way more serious than anyone was taking it. Even though Cole didn’t normally like to get too caught up in political dramas, he’d still let Morgan know what he thought of the administration’s decision to stall the investigation. He hated to assume the worst of people, but it was hard to see this in any other light. And even though she didn’t come out and say so, it was clear Morgan felt the same way. Still, unless she could track down some useful information about where these two Lebanese guys were hanging out, it wouldn’t matter how many people agreed with their assessment.

Cole started to jog, passing a few surprised stragglers sitting on the curb outside a bar, and continuing through Stanton Park before turning down 10th Street. The only reason he even remembered their address was because it sounded so perfectly D.C.—1000 East Capitol.

He slowed to a walk as he reached the intersection. There it was, a stone-fronted Victorian with the classic corner turret he recognized from Anna’s Facebook photos. At the door, he found the buzzer for unit three, pressed the button, and waited.

This would be fun.

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA
11:47 a.m.

So where’d you find this gas guzzler?” Leila looked a little awkward, standing there on the curb watching Cole lift her small carryon bag into the bed of Chase’s new Silverado V8. At least she let him help her this time around. He’d pulled up at Reagan National’s arrivals area just minutes before she walked out. After the reunion with his siblings and a few hours’ sleep on their couch, he’d been chasing dead-end leads from Morgan all morning.

“My brother’s—he’s here in the city for the summer.”

“And drove this thing all the way from Wyoming?”

Cole hopped up into the cab and put the truck in gear.

“Great to see you too, Leila.” He’d been hoping for a change in her attitude after their less-than-friendly collaboration in Rwanda—some implicit acknowledgement that they’d been through a lot but were definitely on the same team now. That was really the only reason he’d agreed with Morgan’s recommendation for her to fly down to join him.
She’s the only other person in the U.S. who has seen what this virus can do. The fact that she’s also immune means you can both get right in the middle of things if that becomes necessary.
And so here Leila was, right off the plane from Boston after being released from what sounded like an epic all-night interrogation. “Just so you know, I never believed you were really working for the other side.”