The Escape (37 page)

T
HEY HAD OBVIOUSLY
left Robert behind when they went to DTRA. Their badges got them into the building and security escorted them to Reynolds’s office.

As the guard unlocked her door using his master key he said, “She won’t be in until tomorrow morning.”

Puller said, “I doubt very much she’s going to be in ever again.”

He switched on the lights and strode across the room to stand behind her desk. “You remember I said something was off when we left Reynolds’s office last time?” She nodded. He picked up the photo he had seen previously when they visited Reynolds here. “Well,
this
was off.”

Knox said, “How so?”

He pointed to a younger Reynolds standing in a row of men. “There she is.”

“Okay, so what?”

He pointed at some writing at the bottom of the photo. “The caption says this was the START verification team.”

“Again, so what?”

He ran his finger down the line of men. “Recognize anyone?”

She eyed one of the men. “That’s Malcolm Aust. But we knew he was on the verification team. So you’re still suspecting him of partnering with Reynolds?”

Puller ignored this question and said, “Recognize anyone else in the line?”

Knox took the photo from him and went one by one. When she got to the end she started from the beginning and worked her way down it. She paused at one man standing to the left of Reynolds. He was tall, well built, his features sharp and angular, truly a memorable countenance.

“This guy looks familiar for some reason.”

Puller had taken out his phone and brought up an image on it. “I snapped this shot off the computer screen at Fort Leavenworth.”

When Knox looked at the picture on the screen and then the photo, she gasped. “Omigod, it’s him!”

“Ivo Mesic. The ‘Croatian’ who brought my brother’s would-be killer into DB in the trunk of his car.”

“So you believe he’s partnered with Reynolds? But why?”

“She’s at the WMD Center. They were both START verifiers, which has to do with nukes. She was sucking up to Aust, who hunts WMDs for a living.”

“So they’re planning something. With a nuke?”

“I don’t know. It’s not like folks leave nukes lying around.”

As they left the building and got back into the car, Knox’s phone buzzed. She answered it, listened, and then said, “Okay, thanks for the heads-up.” She put the phone away, looking pale and shocked.

“What is it?” asked Puller.

“Malcolm Aust is dead.”

“What?” exclaimed Puller. “How?”

“He was supposed to phone in on a late conference call this evening that originated in L.A. He never did. They sent someone out to his house to check on him when he didn’t answer his phone or email. They found him dead. Shot through the head.”

Puller said, “That means the plan must be coming to fruition. They’re tying up all loose ends.”

Knox snapped, “But what
is
the plan, Puller? We don’t have a clue. And that means we can’t stop it.”

“We
do
have clues. We just have to piece them together. And we’ve got one of the biggest brains in the world to help us.”

He jammed down the gas and pointed the car back to where they had come from. Back to Robert Puller.

They sat around the motel room looking at each other. Puller and Knox had filled in Robert on what they had discovered at Reynolds’s office. And also about Malcolm Aust’s murder.

“What had he been working on?” Robert asked. “We need to know that, John. That will narrow things down considerably.”

Puller took out his phone and called General Aaron Rinehart. The general was in a late meeting, but he called Puller back a few minutes later. Puller gave him a quick sketch of what they had learned and what they suspected.

Rinehart said, “I’ll find out, Puller. In the meantime, I’ll make sure everyone goes on high alert. And I’ll put all our resources out to find Reynolds and this Ivo Mesic.”

While Puller was on the phone Robert was typing away on his laptop. After Puller ended the call his brother said, “His real name is Anton Bok.” He spun the laptop around so they could see a page of both pictures and text.

“The START Verification Team from the 1990s. A full accounting with names, backgrounds and photos.” He pointed to one picture. “Bok is the third from the left. Right next to Reynolds.”

“What’s his background?” asked Knox.

“Former military. Former KGB. With the equivalent of a master’s degree in biochemistry and a PhD in molecular biology.”

“Chemistry and biology,” said Puller.

“
Molecular
biology,” amended Robert.

“But he also had experience in nukes, otherwise he wouldn’t have been on the verification team,” pointed out Knox.

“He was probably there more to gather intelligence for Russia than count warheads,” said Robert. “And to recruit Susan Reynolds to his side.”

“So biology and chemistry are his specialties,” said Puller. “What can we learn from that?”

Robert said, “Not all WMDs are nukes. Nukes are tough to get and impossible to make unless you have a large infrastructure and billions of dollars and years to work with. But you have plenty of far cheaper and easier-to-manufacture bioterrorism possibilities. Contaminating the air, water, and food chains. That would also be more in line with Bok’s background.”

Knox said, “I’m surprised she left that photo out in her office.”

Puller said, “She never knew we had latched on to Ivo Mesic at Fort Leavenworth. So she wasn’t worried about our making the connection. And remember what her son Dan said about his father? He would kill the guy if he got the chance? I think Susan Reynolds and Anton Bok are a lot more than business partners. She probably got a kick out of seeing his face every day. And who would get suspicious? She has a photo in her office of her days as a START verifier? Perfectly normal.”

“You’re probably right, Junior,” said Robert.

A few hours later Puller’s phone buzzed. It was Aaron Rinehart. Puller listened and nodded. He stood. “Rinehart has someone we need to talk to.”

“Who?” asked Knox.

“Donovan Carter’s second in command.”

“What can he tell us?”

“He apparently can tell us what Malcolm Aust was working on.”

T
HEY DIDN’T GO
back to DTRA as dawn broke. Warren Johnson, the interim director of DTRA, was at a facility in D.C.

Puller drove fast and they pulled into the underground garage in record time. He and Knox were cleared through security and rode the elevator up to the office.

Johnson met them in the lobby. He was a short man, balding, with a thickened nose and eyes partially hidden behind spectacles. He escorted them back to an office, where they sat around a small table. Johnson came quickly to the point.

“General Rinehart was clear that I was to be frank and speak freely with you about all this.”

“That would be helpful,” said Puller. “I have a feeling that we might be running out of time.”

“He’s told me of your suspicions about Susan Reynolds. I won’t add my opinion to the mix right now. But with Donovan and now Malcolm Aust murdered, it doesn’t really matter what I think.” He leaned forward. “The fact is, Susan Reynolds was the point of contact for Malcolm for a mission he was performing in partnership with the WMD Center.”

“And what was the mission?” asked Puller. “Something to do with chemical weapons in Syria, maybe?”

“No. We were provided intel about a cache of weaponized Ebola-Zaire in Africa.”

“Ebola-Zaire?” said Knox.

Johnson nodded. “There are four types of Ebola virus. Ebola-Reston is one. There was a lot of hoopla about that because it involved monkeys and was in a heavily populated area, Reston, Virginia, hence the name. But Ebola-Reston is nonpathogenic to humans. Ebola-Zaire, on the other hand, is deadly to human beings.”

“You said weaponized,” pointed out Puller.

“We believe it’s been aerosolized. Meaning it can be distributed through the air. Up to this point we always believed that all strains of Ebola required hands-on exposure, exchange of fluids, that sort of thing. That made the virus, while still extremely dangerous, manageable under most circumstances. It was rumored that the Russians had aerosolized Ebola-Zaire some years ago, but the trail on that petered out. We thought it a rumor. Until we received this latest piece of intelligence.”

“And Reynolds was running your end of the mission? Was she also the source of the intel?”

“That is not clear,” said Johnson, with a very troubled look. “But she may well have been. She and Aust went way back. It was her idea to call on him to track this cache down. He was successful.” He paused. “With a disclaimer attached to that.”

“I thought there might be,” said Puller. “What disclaimer?”

“He didn’t believe he got it all. At least that’s what he confided to Donovan and Donovan in turn told me.”

“Why didn’t he get all of it?” asked Knox.

“Because he believed that someone had been there ahead of him and taken a portion of the supply.”

Knox and Puller exchanged glances. She said, “So Reynolds piggybacked on Aust to get what she needed? He was probably feeding her daily reports. He gets the location of the stuff nailed down and tells her. And she has her team show up first to take some of it.”

Johnson held up a hand. “I’m not speculating on that point. But we don’t have time to worry about that. We have a major problem if that cache is going to be used.”

“I have no doubt it’s going to be used,” said Puller. “And I would be seriously surprised if it weren’t going to be used against us.”

“Us?” said Johnson. “You mean in this country?”

“I mean in this area.”

“What do you base that on?” Johnson demanded.

“On the fact that Susan Reynolds is here.”

Knox said, “Aerosolized Ebola-Zaire. What sort of casualties are we looking at with the amount of virus they might have?”

“Catastrophic in a high-population area like this. If one drop of virus-infected liquid enters the body, it’s enough to kill. There is no cure, and really no widespread approved vaccine for humans. As you may know, there’s been another outbreak of it in West Africa. Many have died and they have yet to contain it.

“So people exposed to it
will
be contagious?” asked Knox.

“Of course. But the one good thing about Ebola is that, unlike other diseases, it’s only
after
you develop symptoms, meaning you are sick and feverish, that you become contagious. However, it is damn difficult to diagnose Ebola because its symptoms mirror so many other types of diseases. Ironically, the best diagnostic tool is one’s passport. If you’d been to areas in Africa that have had outbreaks of Ebola, that helps to narrow the diagnostic possibilities.”

“But if it happens here?” said Puller. “People could just think they have the flu. And ten days or two weeks pass and they’re contagious and they spread it to a lot of other people without even knowing they have Ebola.”

“It is quite an unprecedented possibility,” said Johnson glumly.

“How much of the stuff did Aust think had been taken before he got to the cache?”

“Three five-foot-tall canisters. Now, that may not sound like a lot, but with the aerosolized Ebola a little goes a long way. And infection through the lungs, which are chock-full of blood vessels that travel the length of the body, is quite rapid.”

“What happened to the canisters that he did recover?” asked Puller.

“They were transported to a highly secure facility equipped for dealing with bioterrorism elements. They are scheduled to be thoroughly examined and then they will be destroyed.”

“So the examination hasn’t started yet?”

“No. These things take time to prep, to make sure it’s done safely. The examination may lead us back to who engineered the weapon. If so, I would imagine severe consequences will follow.”

“Could it be the Russians?” asked Knox. “You seem to think that’s where this stuff came from.”

“It might very well be. And with the state of the world right now, and Russia seemingly raising its imperialistic head again, things might get a little unstable.”

“I think they’re pretty unstable right now,” interjected Puller.

“So would those infected in that way be able to infect others by just breathing on them, or will it require a transfer of bodily fluids, or touching someone else?” asked Knox.

“I can’t answer that definitively, because we’ve never been faced with something like this. I have our people here working on it, but don’t expect a fast answer. Scientists aren’t wired that way. But, worst case, I think we have to assume that those infected through the air can in turn infect others the same way: a cough, a sneeze. Which means a serious multiplier effect. Thousands. Hundreds of thousands. It would be like a Hollywood disaster movie.”

“So canisters that have been aerosolized, like oxygen containers?” said Puller.

Johnson nodded. “Yes. I’ve seen photos of the ones that Aust found. That’s exactly what they look like. And you think they might be deployed somewhere in this area?”

“D.C. is the capital. If you want to make a big statement, where else would you do it?” said Puller.

“But where, Puller?” asked Knox. “There are too many targets to cover.”

Johnson said, “Now, many obvious targets have air monitors, which will detect numerous airborne pathogens and also any deviation in the typical makeup of the air moving through a facility. Many significant military installations have them. The White House, DHS facilities—the list goes on and on. If a deviation or specific pathogen is detected, the air system is immediately shut down and a whole host of procedures will kick in, including possible evacuation or even quarantine, depending on what exactly is in the air.”

“Well, that’s some comfort,” said Knox.

“But again, I’m not sure if many of the monitors deployed now could pick up aerosolized Ebola, since we were not aware such a biological agent existed.”

“Okay, there goes the comfort factor right out the window,” said Knox.

Puller’s phone rang. It was his brother. He moved to a corner of the room and filled Robert in on what Johnson had told them.

“Weaponized Ebola disseminated through the air is some serious shit, John.”

“So I gather. Our problem is we know it’s out there. We just don’t know where the target is. And even if we narrow it down to this area—and I could be totally wrong on that—it’s still a lot of options. And I don’t think they want to go public with this because of the panic.”

“Well, I can’t say I can blame them on that,” replied Robert. “But I have been giving it some thought. And I’ve made some phone calls.”

“You made phone calls?” said a surprised Puller.

“Yeah. Pretending I was you. We sound alike, bro, in case you hadn’t noticed. Anyway, I got hold of one guy at Leavenworth, a Command Sergeant Major Tim McCutcheon. He said he had spoken to you before.”

“Right. He was the one who told us about Ivo Mesic hightailing it out of there on the day the Ukrainian tried to kill you at DB. Why did you want to talk to him?”

“Because he has records on the Foreign Military Studies program.”

“And why does that interest you?”

“Because I think it interested Ivo Mesic. Or Anton Bok, rather.”

“I’m not following you, Bobby,” said a clearly frustrated Puller. “And I’m running out of time here, so just tell it to me as straight as you can.”

“I think Bok was at Leavenworth for
more
than just a way to get my purported killer onto the base. He strikes me as a multitasker who would not waste time sitting in a classroom for a full month. I think he was there to learn what he needed to learn.”

“And what was that?”

“His studies included some interesting subjects in the American military world. But one in particular got my attention.”

“What was that?”

“A course titled ‘American Command and Control: A History of the Pentagon.’ The course also included quite a fascinating and in-depth study of the facility itself. Quite in-depth. How everything runs, Junior. From the cafeterias to the HVAC. From the five rings to the BioWatch program.”

“Are you serious?”

“I think in the future we might want to be a little more guarded with our information, particularly for those who wear a different uniform.”

“Thanks, Bobby.”

Knox, who had overheard some of this, rushed over. “What is it?”

Puller was already hammering the number on his phone keypad.

“This is CWO John Puller. I need to talk to General Aaron Rinehart, and I need him right now.”

The voice asked him what it was in reference to.

“Doomsday,” said Puller. “Just tell him it’s about Doomsday.”