The Moses Virus (21 page)

“Monsieur,” Brocard said as he hurried from Philippe to Tom’s side, “they headed toward the autobahn. I’ve alerted the Montreux police. They’ll be here any minute.”

“There’s no time to waste! Tell them to follow my car. I’m going after the white BMW.” Tom got into the Saab. Alex had left the keys in the car. Tom started it and sped off, just before the police arrived.

17

T
he two Germans raced through Montreux on their way to the autobahn. The driver had been watching through his rearview mirror. He noticed a car that he thought was following them—but it turned off the road after a time. Then he spotted a second car. A gray Saab catching up fast.

“We’ve got company,” the driver said.

The driver veered off onto a side road that led through a wooded area. “This should take us to the next entrance to the autobahn to Geneva.”

“We should have killed him and the girl when we had the chance,” the second German said.

“Damn,” the driver said, looking in the rearview mirror. The Saab turned, following behind. “It’ll take about an hour to get to the Geneva airport and turn in the car, so we’ll get our flight to Frankfurt without any trouble. But we can’t have that Saab on our tail the whole time.”

The second German looked in the backseat at Alex, whose arm had stopped bleeding and was now caked with dried blood. “She’s not seriously hurt,” he said. “The knife wound was superficial.”

The driver said, “We’ve got to throw the Saab off our trail. I think what we need to do is leave some bait for Stewart.”

“Bait?”

“Bait. The girl. I’m going to increase speed and pull ahead of the Saab. Then we’ll dump her in the middle of the road, and Stewart will have to stop and pick her up. We’ll escape.”

The BMW surged ahead. Neither of the two Germans particularly noticed that the road was becoming bumpier, and the forest through which they were driving was growing denser and denser. The BMW began to pull away from the Saab.

Suddenly, the driver slammed on his brakes, bringing the BMW to a skidding stop. “Get her out of here,” he shouted.

The second German jumped out of the car, opened the back door, and pulled Alex out, dragging her onto the road. She didn’t resist in the slightest. The second German quickly tied her arms and then her legs together. He left her in the center of the road. “You’ll be lucky not to be run over,” he said, giving a little laugh. He climbed back into the BMW, which spun its wheels, leaving Alex behind.

The BMW was going as fast on this back road as possible. The driver said, “We need to get back on the autobahn. Take a look at the map—where can we turn?”

“I’ve been thinking,” said the second German.

“About what?” the driver asked.

“We’re too obvious if we stay in this car.”

“What do you mean?”

“Back at Chillon. Any Swiss bank is sure to be overrun with security cameras. Someone must have spotted our car as we left. Hell, Stewart may have called our license plate numbers in to the police. We’d be better off ditching this car and finding another.”

“You’ve got to be crazy! We’re in a dense forest. We haven’t seen any cars in either direction.”

“I know, I know. But, if we do see one, we should swap, destroy the BMW, and keep traveling in the new car, incognito.”

“You’ve got a good point,” the driver said as he swerved on a sharp curve in the road.

“And,” said the second German. “I’ve got another thought.”

“What now?”

“Our plans were to fly back to Geneva. With the black leather case.”

“Right,” said the driver.

“Well, we certainly aren’t going to check that leather case, and, if we try and carry it through security at the airport, we’ll have a lot of explaining to do. The briefcase might be held or confiscated. I’d hate to have to explain to Bailitz that we had the suitcase, and it was taken away at the German border.”

The driver said, “So, we should drive straight to Kronberg Castle?”

“That’s what I’m thinking. It’ll take three hours. Not that much longer than checking in, going through security, flying, and going through security again at the other end.”

The driver kept the speed of the car up, despite the worsening of the surface of the road. Though they hadn’t noticed it, the road they were traveling was heading upward into the mountains. Abruptly, a large truck loaded with logs appeared, bearing down on them in the opposite direction.

“Watch out!” shouted the German who wasn’t driving.

“I see it, I see it,” the driver said testily. He swerved the car off the road onto the shoulder to avoid a head-on collision. “I’m not sure why the road is so rough and narrow. Or why a monster truck is coming the other way.” As the truck whooshed by, their BMW was buffeted by the force of the air moving along with the truck. The driver of the lumber truck looked down at them, and honked his horn both in irritation and warning.

“Idiot!” said the second German. “We should be on the major route to Geneva—not on a feeder road for someone taking trees out of this forest. Is there any way we can get off this?”

“No, we can only get off by turning around.” The driver then pointed. “Look, there’s a car stopped on the other side of the road!”

“Pull over. This may be exactly what we’re looking for.”

The stopped car was a maroon four-door Opel. There was no driver in the car. The German driver of the BMW crossed over and parked behind the Opel. The driver of the Opel, seeing the BMW, emerged from the woods. He had a pair of binoculars hanging around his neck, probably returning from some bird watching. The German approached the Swiss birder and said, in English, “We’ve got a sick woman. She’s unconscious and needs help.”

The Swiss birder, a middle-aged man, walked quickly toward the BMW to see what the problem was. The German struck him across his neck with the sharp edge of the back of his hand. The driver fell forward, knocked out. The German searched for identification and carried the unconscious man around to the passenger side of the BMW.

Then, the German driver said, “Switch the suitcase to the Opel’s trunk, and I’ll drive it. You drive the BMW. We’ll find a place in the forest to dump the BMW and the driver.”

Tom was madly driving the Saab trying to catch up to Alex. He was panic stricken that the Germans would do something to her. Yes, of course the Moses Virus was critically important, but he was focused on trying to save her. He was suddenly aware how attached to her he had become.

Abruptly, about two hundred yards in front of him, Tom spotted something in the road. At first he thought he could maneuver around it and scarcely cut his speed. But as he drew closer he began to make out a human form in the middle of the road. He applied the brakes with force, bringing the car to a stop. It was a human. Suddenly Tom realized—it was far more than a human lying in the middle of the road—it was Alex. Tom burst out of his car and ran to her. She saw him running toward her and began crying, and it seemed more in relief and joy than from discomfort or pain.

Tom immediately removed the ropes binding her, pulled her up to her feet, facing him. “How is your arm?” he asked.

“Superficial wound,” she replied. “It’s stopped bleeding.”

“I’m so glad to see you,” Tom said and gave her a strong embrace.

“Do you still like me without my blond wig?” said Alex.

“I sure do,” replied Tom. “I like you better the way you are now.”

Then, Tom asked, “Why did they let you go?”

“To throw you off their trail,” Alex said. “They’re no dummies.”

“Do you know where they’re headed?” Tom asked.

“To Geneva, the airport, and Frankfurt. But, I wonder . . .”

“What do you mean?” Tom asked.

“I’m thinking that they’ll have to go through security twice, in Geneva and again in Frankfurt. That means Swiss and German security, both known for their thoroughness. That might be a problem for them since they’re carrying a leather suitcase with metal tubes inside. Those metal tubes will show up on any metal detector. They’ll have some questions to answer that they won’t want even to be asked. It might be easier for them to drive straight through to Frankfurt,” Alex said.

“On the other hand, the police have their license plate numbers,” Tom added, “since I gave this information to them over the phone.”

“That bothers me,” said Alex. “If I were they, I’d change cars to protect my anonymity.”

“Let’s hope you’re wrong, for the sake of the driver whose car they might have taken.”

He helped Alex into the Saab, and they took off in the direction the BMW had been heading.

The two Germans were now proceeding in tandem, the Opel followed by the BMW.

The road rose even more vertically and wound furiously to the right and to the left. Another gigantic truck laden with huge logs was bearing down on them.

The German driver, seeing the truck coming toward them, froze momentarily. Then he swerved. Focused solely on the danger in front of him, he made a calculated gamble. He veered to the right, swerving off the road onto the shoulder to avoid the momentum of the truck, which was coming at them at a speed and a downward pitch that made it impossible to stop even if the driver had tried, which he didn’t.

The Opel roared onto the shoulder, barely missing the massive log truck careening by them. The German driver slammed on the Opel’s brakes, and the BMW followed. Without warning, the forest ended on the edge of a large pit, which was being mined for the recovery of gravel. The road swept around to the left, following the contours of the pit, but the right shoulder abruptly stopped with only a wooden barrier to warn of the shoulder’s termination.

The two Germans looked at the precipice and agreed: “This cliff is perfect for destroying the BMW.”

They walked to the edge and looked down the one hundred fifty feet to the bottom. They moved the unconscious driver to the driver’s side of the BMW. They opened the trunk, pulled out two red gasoline containers and emptied gasoline throughout the interior of the BMW, including onto the unconscious Opel owner. They pulled the wooden barrier aside. The two Germans got in the Opel. The driver maneuvered the Opel to the back of the BMW. Then he used his vehicle to push the BMW over the edge of the cliff.

The BMW began to fall in a long graceful arc, one hundred and fifty feet. Seconds later, the car, with its unconscious occupant, smashed into the huge rocks and unattended machinery below, at the bottom of the pit.

The BMW made a crunching noise as it collapsed like an accordion. The gas tank exploded in an orange fireball, and the explosion set off the gasoline in the car’s interior. The flames turned black with oil and gas as the smoke plume rose as high as the top of the pit. The heat of the consuming fire in the heap of twisted metal melted the interior of the car and incinerated the dead passenger. Soon there was nothing but the acrid smell of smoke and twisted shapes. The Germans turned the Opel around and soon found a road that would take them to the autobahn.

From inside the Saab, Tom and Alex could see billowing black smoke rising high into the sky. They headed toward the source.

Tom said, “I’ll bet something has happened to the BMW. It may have crashed. We can’t be far from whatever is causing the smoke. We should be there in five minutes.”

Alex nodded but said nothing.

Tom continued. “If that is the BMW, and if the Moses Virus was in the car it may have been destroyed in the crash and fire.”

“Just what I was thinking,” Alex replied. “A virus would be destroyed by the high temperatures of a gasoline fire. It may be for the best.”

Tom increased the speed of the Saab.

As the road’s turns became more torturous, Tom found that he had to keep his speed down. When the road reached the large pit, he stopped the car. He and Alex jumped out of the Saab and went to the edge of the pit where they peered down at the twisted metal and remains of a car. They were engulfed with black, acrid smoke. Tom stated, “That’s the BMW all right, whatever’s left of it.” Tom called the Montreux police and asked them to send firefighting equipment.

Alex asked, “Could the virus be a part of what we’re breathing?”

Tom said, “I’m fairly certain that if the virus was in the car, it’s been consumed, and the smoke doesn’t contain any of it. But, standing around here is just asking for trouble. Breathing acrid smoke can’t be good.”

“Tom,” said Alex, “we don’t have the virus. Maybe it’s been destroyed in the fire. Or maybe it hasn’t. If the virus is still in the Germans’ hands, we’ve got to find it. Don’t you think we should get help?”

“Do you mean Pulesi?” Tom asked.

“He’s the one—the only one—you seem to trust,” Alex said.

Tom didn’t need any more persuading. “He gave me his cell phone number just in case I needed to reach him.” He dialed Pulesi’s number, who picked up right away. Tom brought Pulesi up to date.

Pulesi was quick to say, “I’m glad you called. With the virus supply in dangerous hands, we need to take action quickly. I can’t do much for you from Rome. But I can contact David Baskin, head of the CDC in Atlanta. He knows the situation since I’ve kept him informed.”

“I hate to ask,” Tom commented, “but is the CDC to be trusted?”

Pulesi replied, “You can definitely trust them. They desperately want to keep the virus from falling into hostile hands. This is of the highest priority.”

Then Pulesi continued, “I’ve got Baskin’s number, and I’ll call you back the moment I’ve reached him. I’m glad you’ve reconnected with me. Good luck.”

With that, Tom turned to Alex, who had overheard the conversation and seemed relieved. He said, “Let’s get down to the bottom of this pit. I’m anxious to see if the virus was destroyed.”

About a quarter of a mile farther along the road Tom discovered a service road, which wound precipitously downward to the bottom of the pit. Within ten minutes he and Alex were standing near the burning hulk, where little remained of the BMW.

Tom surveyed the scene: “I’ve an uneasy feeling about this.”

Alex replied, “If the virus has been eradicated—that’s good news.”

“But,” said Tom, “we need to look inside the car. What if the Germans aren’t there? What if they escaped with the virus?”

Tom’s cell phone rang. It was Pulesi, who said, “I’ll be brief. I’ve spoken with Baskin. He’s dispatched one of his best men from E.I.S. to assist you. His name is Gerard Pinet. He happens to be on temporary assignment in Geneva, which is a piece of great luck.”

“What is the E.I.S.?” asked Tom.

“Sorry,” replied Pulesi. “Epidemic Intelligence Service. One hundred and sixty elite U.S. medical operatives—think the equivalent of Navy SEALs, but dedicated to epidemiologic work. They’re extremely good. But Baskin will call off Pinet if you don’t want him.”