Hybrid, p.28
Hybrid, page 28
“They have contingency plans in place. They’re trying to time this exactly so that only the U.S. is affected, and if the moles don’t hear from Reisch within four days, they will release the virus themselves. That doesn’t really matter because I’m pretty sure he’s sending the message now.”
“So Reisch is out of this, aside from general mayhem.” Patton said thoughtfully, but Amanda shook her head. “There’s more?”
“I’m afraid so. He has a small satchel or fanny pack—I don’t know what they’re called—but inside are two vials. One is a large dose of concentrated virus, and he plans to gradually release it until everyone, not just Americans, has been infected. He sees himself as a new Moses leading the chosen people.” Amanda pointed a finger at her own chest.
“What’s in the other vial?” Greg asked.
“A vaccine. Reisch stole both vials from a man named Jaime Avanti. He created the virus and the vaccine and he was sneaking it to . . .” Amanda smiled weakly. “ . . . to Nathan Martin.” She looked at Greg and her smile broadened.
“So he’s a part of this?” Greg said darkly, while Patton looked on confused.
“I’m starting to need a score card for this. Who is Nathan Martin?”
Amanda turned to the new chief of police. “He’s one of the heads of the CDC; we have a history.” She turned back to Greg. “No, he’s not involved. Avanti wanted to limit the full effect of the virus and was going to give Martin the means to do it.”
“So if we catch this Reisch, we’re back in business. We’ll have the vaccine.” Amanda shook her head again and Patton wanted to scream. “There’s more?”
“A vaccine has to be administered before a person is infected. If the eleven release the virus as planned, the vaccine will be worthless, at least to us.”
Patton got up and began to pace through the wrecked ICU, cursing colorfully.
“I guess he needs a moment,” Greg said. “Are you alright, honey?”
Amanda turned to Greg. “Reisch was correct about two things: a lot of people are going to die, and no matter what happens, there’s going to be a whole new group of people like me. And some of them are going to be just like him.”
Patton returned, his face red but his voice under control. “You’re the only person who can catch Reisch, Amanda, but you are also the only hope anyone has for curing this thing.”
“I know what you need. I’m sure I can spare a pint or two.”
Chapter 36
“Don’t worry, Rachel, or whatever your name is. It’s just a harmless little cocktail we give to the animals when they get too excited. Just a little Fentanyl, a little Pentobarb, and a few other mild sedatives. It shouldn’t hurt you too bad. How do you feel?”
Despite his even tone, Martin was in a controlled rage. He couldn’t get at Jeser, but he certainly could take care of their spy. The military and FBI would treat her with kid gloves, and she would tell them nothing, safe in the knowledge that American law would prevent them from doing anything more uncomfortable than talking to her sternly.
Rachel’s head dropped, and she stopped straining against the handcuffs. For a moment, everyone thought that Martin had killed her. Then she gasped loudly, and her head came up. “My nose itches,” she mumbled.
“A common side effect of the narcotic,” Martin said. He looked up to find that Adam Sabritas had joined the crowd of onlookers.
Adam’s hair was a mess, and he obviously hadn’t showered in days. He started to wave a sheet of paper at Martin, but then stopped when he saw Rachel.
Nathan turned to Martha as Rachel’s head lolled again. “See if you can find a cardiac monitor. I don’t want her to die on us.”
“I’m not sure you should be doing this,” Martha whispered.
“I’m not going to let millions of people die when she has answers in her head. Her civil rights are not more important than their lives. You know no one else will do this; no one else can do this.” It was a singular moment of opportunity, and he would not look back on this moment with regret for not having done all he could.
Martha nodded and weaved her way through the growing crowd. Adam took the opportunity to move in closer.
“Dr. Martin,” he whispered, despite the fact that everyone could hear him. “I want to show you something.” But it was obviously not the right time. “I suppose it can wait.”
Rachel looked up and then around the room. A pale Larry Strickland had worked his way forward, and Rachel’s hypnotic eyes fell upon him.
“Do you want to tell him what we did on his desk?” Rachel spoke slowly and softly, each word understandable, but slurred.
Larry looked up at Martin, his face burning with humiliation and embarrassment.
“It was just—”
Martin waved him off and lifted Rachel’s chin. “I don’t care how many people you seduced, or where you seduced them. I want to know your name.”
“Maria. I am Maria Belsky.” She tried to lift her head proudly, but the wobble ruined the effect. “I am from Bosnia. You remember Bosnia.” She could barely form the words.
“Who sent you here?” Martin shook her arm to rouse her. “Somebody get me some Narcan and Romazicon.” He needed to reverse some of the sedative effect. A syringe was passed up the crowd to him, and he injected a quarter of the clear fluid into her shoulder. Cardiac and respiratory monitors were wheeled in, and Martha attached the leads to the young woman’s chest.
It took a couple of minutes; then her eyes opened widely, and for a second, she looked frightened and confused. “You can’t do this to me.” She was more awake but still drugged.
“Who sent you, Maria?” Martin’s voice was softer, more inviting.
It took her half a minute to respond. “Doesn’t matter if you know.” The words were still slow, but her eyes were open. “Dr. Avanti sent me. It was all his idea. He made the virus,” she slurred.
“Who did Dr. Avanti work for?” Martin continued with his soothing tone. Her eyelids began to flutter again; the short-acting Narcan was beginning to wear off, and she was about to sink back into the depths of unconsciousness.
“He never really knew, but I did,” she smiled crookedly. “It took me five years to work it out.” Her head dropped again.
Nathan looked up confused, but Martha elbowed her way to the front. “Maria, honey,” she said in a sweet southern drawl, “can you tell me who you work for?”
Maria tried to smile again, but the muscles in her face weren’t working well. “Lots of people. Dr. Martin is one of them.”
“And then there’s Dr. Avanti,” Martha said, and Maria nodded. “Do you work for anyone else?” Maria’s head stopped swaying, but her eyelids began to flutter. “It’s all right, Maria. You can tell me your secret. It’s fun to tell secrets, especially ones that show how clever you are.”
Maria managed to smile. “The First Directorate.”
Everyone in the room blinked except Martha. “Mokete bol nonfat mehr?” she said, and everyone in the room blinked again.
“Da, bol robopute ha pycckom rebike xopowo.” Maria seemed to be more comfortable with Russian.
“Caenante bol pabotaete ara Sluzhba Vnoshney Razvedki?” Martha seemed just as comfortable.
“Da, b teyehne debrtn net.”
“Okay, Martha, what’s she saying?” Martin whispered in her ear.
“She’s a spy, a Russian spy.”
Chapter 37
“Why are you here? You should be miles from here,” Amanda asked the approaching Oliver. She looked accusingly at Lisa.They had moved to the relative calm of the ICU waiting room. Amanda had repeated her story to the FBI, and they had started the process of shutting down the web site. She still had a needle in her arm as the second of two bags filled with her blood.
“We heard what happened on the radio,” Oliver said sheepishly. Amanda looked at Lisa, waiting for an explanation. “It’s not her fault; I made her do it.” Oliver’s meaning was clear.
“Sorry about the jaw,” Amanda said to the priest after a second. “I’m too tired to look. Can you tell where he’s gone?”
“Not exactly. I know he’s pretty far from here. He started out going south, but then he stopped. I thought he was trying to get out of the state, but now I’m not so sure. Are you all right?”
“I will be; just a little down after our encounter.” An idea had been forming in her mind, and she tried to appraise the priest’s inner strength. “Father, do you remember yesterday’s lesson, the laser pointer? Do you think you can do that?”
Oliver slowly nodded.
“Do you think you can do it well enough to isolate a single mind?”
Lisa piped in. “He certainly focused in on my mind.”
“But you were sitting right next to him.” She turned to her mother-in-law. “Can you do it on a stranger, in a crowd? I don’t mean someone like Reisch; can you do it to someone who is unaware, if you got reasonably close to them?”
“I can see where you’re going with this, Amanda,” Patton said.
“I think so. How is that going to help us find Reisch?” Oliver asked.
Amanda quickly explained what she had learned from Reisch. “There are eleven people out there, and each one is as dangerous as Reisch. I’m guessing that they have to be in or near major population centers—certainly New York, L.A., and Chicago.”
Oliver looked dubious. “There are millions of people in those places. How do I find just one mind?”
“It’s not as farfetched as it seems. Just sniff around; open your mind as wide as it will go and I’m guessing this guy’s mind will find you because you’re looking for it. There will be a natural attraction. Even if that doesn’t work his mind will have some unique characteristics—excitement, fear, a sense of purpose and finality. It will be a singular pattern. You should be able to sense it and then home in.”
“A psychic bloodhound,” Greg said.
“Well, I can try,” Oliver said, and Amanda felt a singular pattern of fear and excitement pouring out of him.
“At least it will keep you out of my way,” Amanda said, smiling.
“Pick a place,” Patton said getting to his feet.
“New York?” Oliver said. “I’ve never been there and I’m sure it would be a target they would want to hit.” He looked around the room for consensus.
“As good a place as any,” Patton said. He practically lifted the priest to his feet. “At least we’ll be doing something.” Patton’s gaze fell on Amanda. “I’m still responsible for you. Are you going to behave?”
“As soon as I recover, I’m going after him. I will do what I have to do.” Amanda was getting tired of saying that to people. “But I have to do it alone.” She looked in turn to Lisa, Greg, and finally Oliver.”
“Fair enough,” Patton said, guiding Oliver to the door.
“You’re taking him now?” Greg asked. “It might be helpful if I went with him.” He quickly looked at his wife.
Patton looked at Oliver and then Amanda.
“I feel like a piece of meat,” Oliver quipped.
“Well, we’ll meet you downstairs,” Patton said, and he walked out of the waiting room. After a moment’s hesitation, Oliver followed.
“As soon as this is done, I was thinking about going home and taking a nap. I’m in no shape to do this again,” Amanda said to her in-laws.
“I can drive her,” Lisa said to Greg. “Go, do your job.” He kissed them both and hurried after Oliver.
***
“What’s it like, knowing what everyone around you is thinking?” Patton asked Oliver as they waited for the elevator.
“I have been doing it for exactly one day, but so far it’s been rather sad,” Oliver said, hitting the down button for the elevator.
Patton looked at him with a frown.
“Most people scurry around, wrapped up in selfish and superficial concerns. They’re so involved with the trivial aspects of life that they never really learn what’s important to them.”
“Jesus Christ,” Patton said, without thinking. “How depressing.”
Oliver shook his head. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. Once you break through that superficial layer, you realize that most people are just like you. We all are driven by the same needs, we all want the same things, and we all are plagued by the same insecurities. All the same basic programs have been written into our souls, and that’s what connects us.”
Oliver’s voice trailed away as a young couple approached. The woman was carrying a new baby and was engrossed in his smiles and cooing. The young man shuffled behind them, enveloped in an aura of blackness. Even Patton could feel the cloud of malignancy that surrounded him.
The elevator door opened, and Patton stopped his appraisal of the young man long enough to squeeze into the car behind him. The door closed, and Oliver shifted closer to the two parents, pushing Patton’s stomach up against the polished stainless steel. Patton grunted and looked down at the priest and found him staring intently at the couple. For a moment, he thought he was about to bless the baby, but then the elevator dinged and the door slid open. Patton took three large steps and waited for Oliver. The priest caught up to him and paused. “Wait here for just a moment, Rodney,” he whispered as the young parents walked toward the lobby doors.
The young man stumbled a little, and then he let out a scream that filled the two-story atrium. He grabbed his head and fell to his knees, cries of pain echoing off the glass. The new mother was startled at first. She tried to bend down to her husband, but he was thrashing so wildly he threatened her baby. Then she started to scream for help, and the baby began to cry. Patton leapt forward and gently brushed her aside. He took hold of the smaller man’s shoulders and eased him to the floor. His screams were reduced to intermittent yelps that were almost as bad as the blood-curdling yells. His wife and child were crying so loudly that Patton wanted to be anywhere other than between them.
A few moments later, a nurse and two orderlies arrived and took over. Patton backed away as rapidly as the growing crowd would allow and just stared as the stricken young man was attended. He found Oliver comforting the young mother. He had guided her away from the commotion and was practically whispering in her ear. The baby had quieted, but Mom continued to cry. She began to respond to what the priest was telling her, nodding her head. Patton didn’t think it was wise to intrude, so he waited as more help arrived, some of which was directed to the woman.
“Go with these nice people, honey. They’ll take care of everything,” Oliver said quietly. The woman’s eyes were wide but unfocused, almost as if she were coming out of a trance. Oliver walked towards Patton. They exchanged glances and proceeded without a word through the double doors and into the early spring sunshine.
“You did that, didn’t you?” Patton said as they approached the car. “Was he going to hurt them?”
“Yes,” Oliver said, without further explanation.
“Be careful how you use that,” Patton said softly, but then thought, if you can’t trust a priest, who can you trust?
“Don’t put too much faith in any man, Chief, including me,” Oliver responded to his thought. “But I will be careful.”
Chapter 38
The MRI looked terrible. Streaks of gray and black filled the screen, and no matter how they tweaked the dials, they just couldn’t image his brain. The CAT scan had been a similar failure, and James Neval was running out of options. Dr. Rucker had sustained a devastating injury on top of an unidentifiable infection, and nothing they did seemed to make a difference. They had placed a small monitor under his scalp to measure the pressure inside his brain, and the last time he had checked that number blinked 42. It should have been less than 15. He was in a deep chemical coma; it was the last reasonable thing that could be done, and it wasn’t working.
“I’ve tried everything I know, and even some things I don’t know,” the neuroradiologist said. “I just can’t get you an image. He’s got to have metal or some strange paramagnetic effect in his head.” He was frustrated. It was their second attempt, and these pictures were worse than the first.
“What do you think?” Dr. Neval asked the radiologist.
“I think he’s fucked,” he answered. “You can’t control his ICP without meds, and the meds make him hypotensive. I think it’s game over.”
Neval was about to respond, but his pager suddenly beeped. “Guess who?” he said, exasperated, after checking the message.
“Rucker.”
“Right the first time. You’re almost smart enough to be a neurosurgeon,” He left the reading room, ignoring the sarcastic response of his friend.
“We can’t keep his pressure up with all this sedation, Doctor,” said Sandy Fuller, confronting Neval at the doors of the emergency unit. All the ICU patients had been moved to the emergency room, doubling its burden. “I’ve had three nurses with him for six hours now, and we’re only losing ground. I hate myself for saying this, but we’re going to lose other patients who can be saved.”
Neval knew this was more than just nursing exhaustion. Even before the destruction of the ICU this morning, it had been working at twice its capacity with only two-thirds the nursing staff.
“If we extubate him, can we keep him where he’s at?” asked Neval. Removing Phil’s breathing tube was tantamount to a death sentence. Without the respirator hyperventilating him, the pressure in Phil’s brain would build to the point where blood could no longer circulate.
“It’s not a question of space. I just can’t have three nurses in with him every moment, and right now, that’s what it takes.”
