The Galilee Falls Trilogy (Book 3): Fall of Heroes (31 page)

The video chat rings over the speakers. I put on my headphones and mic before accepting the call. Justin sits on a familiar couch scowling over the monitor. I miss my couch. “Where the hell have you been? I’ve been trying to hail someone for over an hour.”

“It’s the middle of the night. We were…sleeping.”

“It’s gone,” he says.

“What’s gone?”

“Motoneslly. The tax records, what little there was on Noogle, the offices, their website,
everything
. It’s gone.”

“What?” I pull up Noogle and sure enough no links appear. Nothing on the whole of the internet matches my search.

“It’s the same in every database, Jo. The few records we found have been deleted.”

“What about Biodyne and the others?”

“Their records do still have Motoneslly listed as their owner, but unless we know precisely which companies to search for, we won’t find any more links. No one will. They’ve effectively cut off our intelligence gathering. The government’s as well. What we have is all we’re probably going to get. And in further bad news, Lexie went to the Motoneslly apartment and office in Independence. No surprise the apartment was empty, however the office wasn’t. Three men in ski masks were there, wiping the computers and literally torching the place.”

“Is Lexie okay?” I ask.

“She barely got out of there before the roof collapsed. They’re still trying to put out the fire. Same with the office New Urbana. And when I tried to check the telephone number at those addresses, there were no files found. They deleted all records on incoming and outgoing calls to those offices. Just like the fleet car Ryder drove.”

“Who the fuck are these people?”

“Trying to uncover that fundamental question just became twenty times harder. The question we really need to ask now is how did they know we were investigating them?”

“If they can break the internet then I’m sure they have programs that let them know when someone’s searching for them. I’ve sent emails to the Health Department and feds with my findings.”

“I thought that too, but the offices went up in flames half an hour before the feds began investigating them.”

I shrug. “There has to be an informant then. I’m sure they have one in every country’s government they operate in. Several.”

“Maybe.”

“So what the fuck do we do now? Harry spent hours on Biodyne and got nowhere. All we have left are the airline and medical supply company.”

“Already done. Like Biodyne, both check out clean. The only connection to the case is that Health Medical Inc. manufactures the same gas used at the prison, but so does every other supply company. They’re based in India but have distribution hubs in Jericho, Starling, Carsten, and seven others.”

“Carsten’s only thirty miles from here.”

“The hubs are outside every major city. Geronimo offered to take a look. He just reported back. Found absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. He downloaded their shipping manifests for the past year, but it’ll take days to review. There are thousands of entries. We’re concentrating on any within twenty minutes west of the city, the way you tracked Ryder. We have the list Jem sent of what would be needed to equip a full lab to house sixteen patients. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

“Because our track record with luck is so wonderful.” I pause. “This is bad.”

“This is bad,” he concedes.

“Jem’s getting worse. Fast. Last night he had vertigo for almost an hour. He thinks they’ll send him to the hospital today, and that he’ll…we-we don’t have time for this bullshit.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” I snap. “Don’t bring me more problems. Bring me goddamn solutions!”

“We have the government, top scientists, and half the superhero population working around the clock, Jo. We have a suspect now. Even the press has mobilized. I called Veronica and she’s getting in touch with major networks worldwide to plaster The Motoneslly Group name everywhere. Someone will come forward with information and we’ll nail the bastards.”

“That was…smart,” I say.

“And the government is taking Motoneslly seriously now. The airline and supply company are top priorities. Warrants are already issued. And Lexie suggested we search social media sites for mentions, which I was just about to do. If they didn’t hack those yet, we may find people who list Motoneslly as their place of employment. We were knocked down, sure, but we’re not out yet. Nowhere near.”

Damned if I don’t feel a little better. “Okay.” I pause. “Sorry about snapping.”

“I’ve been your best friend for over two decades. I’m used to it,” he says with a smile. I find myself smiling back. “Catch up on everyone’s reports then help me search for a needle in a field of haystacks.”

“Okay. Jo, out.” I cut the call.

Down but not out. Story of my damn life.

I’ve missed so much while I slept. The majority of our suspected doctors have been cleared and more than a few have even offered their services in helping with research. Only seven remain, all out of the country. Guess no one has contact with the supers in India, China, and Malaysia who can go knock on their doors. And thinking of India, Dr. Sharpesh formerly of Blackwater, finally wrote back offering to chat and help anyway he can. Even if he was only at early stages, it can’t hurt.

Next I review my chicken scratch from last night about the phantomous Peter Miller and Victoria Lancaster: their alleged previous employers, the now useless home address, and random thoughts. This is it. This one piece of paper is all we have and will get on them. Why didn’t I write down their Federal ID numbers? Print out their W2s? All lost now. I shouldn’t have slept so long. I should have been down here, nose to the fucking grindstone. Well, not again. No breaks, no sleep beyond naps, until this is over.

Okay, think. I need to think. There is usually one piece of evidence, one person, an offhand comment, one mistake that solves the case. I brought a serial killer to justice after finding a pizza receipt. We’re got Motoneslly running scared now. They’re desperate, and the desperate make mistakes.

Okay, I’m the mastermind. I’ve spent billions and years, decades, on this project. I’ve created a shell company, bought a biotech, medical supply company, and airline and those are probably the tip of the iceberg. I use all three, funneling funds to my secret projects using Biodyne’s facilities and infrastructure. The medical supply company provides the equipment, once again off the books, including the lab where the villains were taken. Equipment gets lost all the time. When the virus is ready, I use the airline to disperse the virus worldwide. Spray close enough to major airports or trade winds, and it’s around the globe in weeks. But if it was Biodyne then why create a serum against the virus? Maybe there’s another biotech company we haven’t found yet owned by Motoneslly. And our government wouldn’t let them release the serum until multiple tests were conducted. That would take months and by then it’s too late for supers. It would have worked, all of it, if James Ryder hadn’t broken out. Now they have to move or all of this was for nothing. Which means…they have to be planning to release the virus sooner rather than later. We need to ground that airline or at least keep it under surveillance.

I re-read all my notes, all the other’s notes, trying to assemble the puzzle. Find the key. The one. The facility where Ryder escaped from. Find that, find it all. It’s nearby. The mastermind bought Health Medical Inc. to supply it and his other research facility. The supplies could have gotten “lost” in their computers, but if they used an outside transport company and we get
their
records, and we may get our location. I type that up and email it to both the feds and Justin. Geronimo hasn’t sent the records yet. That reminder goes in the email as well. Can’t do fuck all until I get a copy. The doctors will pass the time.

India keeps popping up. It’s where the supply company’s based, and it seems Dr. Andrew Mendelson, Dr. Sergi Lermantov, and Dr. Kelvin Tan all live there. After a forty year career, most notably on the team that discovered the uber-gene, Mendelson’s been retired for over a decade. India’s not the place I’d retire to. Drs. Lermantov and Tan last worked at Synergy Tech, the former specializing in adenoviruses and the latter in the recombinant DNA structuring. All that’s missing from Jem’s proposed list is a virologist. Dr. Sabine DeRue, who last worked in Malaysia for B.N. Sciences Industrial, transferred to their Malaysian facility before abruptly quitting to “focus on family” six years ago. Except her husband died two years before in the supervillain Bastille’s second bombing. She’s vanished since. She’s a French citizen but one of the supers in France couldn’t find an address on her. Missing scientist with a grudge against supers? We need to find the bitch. Of course
how
to find her eludes me at the moment. That goes in the email too.

A second after I press “send,” on the house surveillance cameras, I see three lab assistants coming out of the front door. Shit. I rush upstairs before they come looking. I join the other prisoners as the lab techs escort down Jackson and the paramedic Hernandez. Though I just gave over an hour ago, my tech draws more blood, saliva, and air samples before hustling out again. They keep me waiting in this freezer almost half an hour, and when someone finally returns, I leap off the gurney. “What the fuck—”

“Ms. Fallon, Dr. Ambrose just collapsed. He’s asking for you.”

I practically body slam past her after the word “collapsed.” She nods to the room down the narrow hallway. Jem’s on a gurney as two spacesuits adjust the monitors and take his temperature. “What’s going on? What’s happening?” I take his icy hand. “You collapsed?”

“Doctor, his temp is 96.4,” the assistant says.

“I’m fi—” Jem says before coughing. Hard, wet, wracking coughs just like…my stomach seizes. One tech gets him water while the doctor listens to his chest. All I can do is hold his hand until the fit passes.

“How long have you been ill? When did this begin?” Dr. Vaugh asks Jem.

“Yesterday afternoon,” I reply. “He said it began as vertigo which grew worse and led to headaches and muscle fatigue.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” the doctor asks him.

“He’s telling you now,” I cut in.

Dr. Vaugh turns to the assistant. “Nurse, prep the chamber for transport to Our Lady Hospital. Contact them that we have an incoming patient to the Infectious Disease Ward with Level 4 precautions required. Have Dr. Strong return post haste. I’ll escort Dr. Ambrose myself.”

The nurse nods before walking out.

“Is all this necessary? Can’t you treat him here?” I ask.

“The hospital is far better equipped than we are here to manage his symptoms,” the doctor says.

“I understand,” Jem says quietly. He squeezes my hand. “John, can you give my fiancée and I a minute alone?”

“Of course, but someone will be just outside the door if a problem arises.”

“I’ll be fine,” Jem assures him.

With a nod, the doctor leaves as well.

“Is there any way to stop this?” I ask.

“No. We knew this was coming, Joanna.” He coughs and tries to clear his throat. “God.”

“Are you okay?” I ask almost breathlessly.

“This just began. It’s manageable. I just…” he squeezes my hand. “There is some good news. Your blood tests are clean. You’ve fought back the virus. We even think you’re no longer contagious.”

“That’s wonderful. I-I can come with you to the hospital. I—”

“It hasn’t been verified yet. Besides, there are no visitors in the infectious ward.”

“So you’re saying…”

He squeezes his hand tighter. “I’m saying…I love you.”

“No. You think…you think this is it, don’t you?”

“Joanna…”

I snatch my hand away. “No.
No.
This isn’t goodbye, you idiot. You—”

“Joanna, shut up,” he snaps. I’m taken aback. This is a man who can face down seven men with assault rifles and never lose his temper. “
I
need to talk, okay? Please let me say this. I need to.” My mouth snaps shut, and I give a little nod. “If,
if
the worst occurs…you will need someone. Your first instinct will be to push people away. Lash out. Because even though I am telling you right now
none
of this is your fault, you will blame and want to punish yourself regardless. I know you will. So I’m going to ask you to promise me you will fight that instinct. I am asking you to promise that you will allow people to take care of you until you’re strong enough to care of yourself. That you will lean on them. Let them in. Especially Justin.”

“Jem—”

“You forgave me, my love, now I am asking you to forgive him. Twenty years, Joanna. Twenty years of love and laughter and acceptance. You know one another better than anyone, present company included. You can beat him bloody, call him every name in the dictionary, spit on him, and he will always be a phone call away. What you have together is rare, so rare. He loves you, and deep down you still love him. You always will. It’s too ingrained in you both. It’s weaved into your very fabric. There is no…Joanna Fallon without Justin Pendergast. So, if this is the end…please honor my request. Let it go. Let the anger go and try to celebrate the fact he’s alive. Celebrate you have the other half of your soul returned to you. Promise me you will at least try. Promise me or I’ll torture myself with worry about you. If you love me, Joanna, you’ll spare me that. Promise me?”

I take a deep breath. “I promise.”

He kisses my hand. “Thank you.”

I rest my head on our entwined hands and stare into his bloodshot eyes. “I am going to save you,” I say with utter certainty. “I am going to save you, Jem. I am going to fight until I don’t have the strength to lift a pinky finger or take a breath.”

“You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t.”

I kiss his hand again. “Don’t you dare leave me alone in this world, Jem Ambrose. Don’t you
dare
.”

He manages another smile. “I don’t know if there’s a heaven or hell, but I do believe we leave something behind after we’re gone. So know…you’re never alone, Joanna. You think of me, and I will be there. Watching over you. Cheering you on as you fight and claw and do all the wondrous things you do until this universe exists no more. You gave me the greatest moments of my life. You are everything I never knew I needed. I love you so much. More than I knew I was capable of. Thank you. Thank you for casting your lot with mine.”