Fugitive Spy Page 11

  “Me, too. Perhaps you should have been an infectious disease doctor,” Casper said.

  “Do you know how nervous I get? I’m sort of a germophobe at heart.”

  “You don’t think you’re practicing in the wrong area then? You’re our first line of defense for things like this—the first to be exposed. The canary in the coal mine for any sort of biomedical attack.”

  Ashley put her hand up to stop him. “You’re not helping. I try not to think about it.”

  Casper laughed softly. “What’s the next file?”

  After several clicks, the file opened. It was a series of maps. One had five red circles.

  Ashley tapped the screen. “Do you see this?”

  Casper leaned closer. His cheek was inches from hers. Her heart skipped a few beats. What she needed was a glass of water. “Two of those circles are around the towns where the mysterious illness happened. Black Falls and Aspen Ridge. In the other three circles are numbers.”

  “They’re all the number four. They sit in the middle of nowhere, but this one seems equidistant between the two towns.”

  “What could the number four mean?” Ashley asked.

  “The only reference I can think of that might pertain to this situation is in relation to lab biosafety levels, as in what type of pathogens a lab can work with. Level four is the highest.”

  “Why would they be in the middle of nowhere?”

  “For protection. It doesn’t seem like we abide much by this now, but distance is a great precaution against spreading a disease you’re tinkering with from a lab into a community. The Soviet Union learned that the hard way once with an accidental release of weapons-grade anthrax because a lab worker noted a broken filter needed repair on a Post-it note, not through the proper channels, and no one figured it out until hours later. In that time, countless spores were released. Most night shift workers at a plant across the street died from inhaled anthrax. No distance to protect them.”

  “Okay, I see your point, but what that also tells me is that the infections in those two towns, if we believe that whatever infected those people was engineered, could have been intentional because they are so far away from the labs. They don’t sit across the street. They are miles away.”

  Casper nodded. “You could be right. If these outbreaks were intentionally released it proves my point about people living far away from an experimental lab as protective. Things can be carried on the wind for long distances, though. It would make rodent transmission doubtful. If you infected a few rats and just let them go...it’s a long way for them to travel.”

  “How do you think the people in the two different towns were infected?” Ashley asked.

  “I have no idea. If this pathogen is a new creation, then I wouldn’t have any knowledge base on transmission and we don’t know what the health care workers were wearing to protect themselves. The best way to find out is to go to one of these towns and start snooping around.”

  “Why not go to the lab first?”

  “Might be helpful to know exactly what we might be getting ourselves into...what kind of pathogens we might be exposed to. In the towns, the pathogen has likely burned itself out. I mean, Miss Germophobe, if you want to run right into an unknown lab without any biohazard gear then—”

  “Okay, I see your point. Town investigation first.”

  She opened the next series of files. The information she was seeing didn’t make any sense to her.

  Casper moaned and slouched in his chair.

  Clearly, he didn’t like what he saw.

  ELEVEN

  Casper’s throat was closing off from the dread invoked by the image on the computer screen. Someone had done it...really done it. Created the most lethal...most virulent bioweapon known to man. His body leached cold sweat, and he longed for the warm blankets Ashley had once given him at the hospital.

  “Casper, what is it? You don’t look well.”

  He didn’t feel well. His stomach roiled, killing his hunger, as his body released a flood of acidic bile. It crept up his throat. Something like this was every infectious disease doctor’s worst nightmare.

  Coming across a pathogen that could not be killed and yet could kill so many.

  “It’s a microscopic image of a pathogen,” Casper said, his voice cracked with emotion. He’d thought he’d remembered everything, but seeing this photograph brought back dreaded memories. His amnesia had caused him to forget his time in Liberia, but now that his memory was mostly back, his psyche was likely protecting him from easily recalling the trauma he suffered.

  “What is it?” Ashley asked, her voice soft, sullen.

  “Have you ever seen anyone die of Ebola?”

  She merely shook her head, her eyes wide, as if she fed off his fear without him having using the words thus far to express the horror his body felt.

  “When outbreaks happen, there’s a good chance the pathogen will mutate into something different...oftentimes something more virulent. The host’s immune system is a challenge, an obstacle for the pathogen to overcome. If it does, it’s usually stronger, and much harder to kill.”

  How true that is even of us as humans. When we go through life’s difficulties—we are often stronger on the other side. Who could blame a virus for doing the same thing?

  “Were you helping patients?” Ashley asked.

  “For a while, Russell and I just sat back and observed, but the local organization helping during the crisis was overwhelmed and so I offered my services for a few weeks. It was a risk, but I felt like I would also have an easier time telling if someone was trying to steal samples.”

  “Because if the pathogen mutated it could make a better weapon.”

  “Exactly,” Casper said. He pointed back to the computer screen. “You asked me which pathogen this was. This is actually the combination of two different pathogens. Ebola and smallpox.”

  “How is that possible?”

  “In those series of photos are pictures of Russian scientists who left the Soviet Union after its collapse. I told you how poorly they were paid for their work and how valuable they were on the open market. Some, like Vladimir, who wrote the book, are using their knowledge to prevent such attacks. Others were probably tempted by the money. You’d have to be. I’m sure it was more than they’d ever thought they’d see in their lifetimes.”

  Casper eased the mouse from Ashley’s fingers and went back to the photos. He clicked to the one that showed three strangers, her father and Jared Fleming. “This is Vladimir. These two other men were underlings of his, so they certainly had his knowledge base. From these photos, we know Jared was at least introduced to them at one point. He could have hired them, or brokered them out to another entity for a fee.”

  “You don’t think the US is doing this?”

  “No, but it doesn’t mean it’s not happening on US soil. It probably would be hard to convince these men to go back to Russia after the freedom they experienced here.”

  He clicked back to the files and opened up the next one.

  The world definitely looked dimmer.

  “What is this? It looks like a recipe, except there are hundreds of pages.”

  “It is,” Casper said, wiping cold sweat from his brow. “For weapons-grade ES1. Remember those codes you found in your father’s cabin—ES1 is the code for this bioweapon. This is the cookbook for how to manufacture it. This is straight from the Soviet playbook. It’s more evidence that a bioweapons attack using this pathogen is more than feasible...likely probable. Entities that use a system like this don’t create these formulations until they have a proven product on their hands.”

  “What are the last two files?” Ashley asked.

  Casper tried to open them. They were password protected. He tried a few variations. Ashley’s name. His name. Both their names. Birth dates. He shoved the keyboard back in exacer
bation. Another piece of the puzzle locked down. What could Ashley’s father be protecting? If this thumb drive fell into the enemy’s hands—what would Russell not want them to find? The answer to the password would likely have to be deciphered from what Russell had sent Ashley.

  Tears fell silently down Ashley’s face. Suddenly, she stood up and began to back away from the computer. A response to Casper’s smoldering anger?

  He stood up and grasped for her, grabbing her shirttail just as she was almost out of reach. She stopped. Taking two steps closer to her, he turned her around. She buried her face in her hands and all he could think to do was draw her into a tight embrace. He smoothed his hand over her hair until the shuddering from her body eased.

  “What is it?” he asked softly.

  It seemed like endless minutes before she could form a sentence to respond to his inquiry.

  “Do you...think my father...made this...?”

  Weapon.

  That was the word she left out. How must it be for a daughter, a healer, to learn dark, secretive things about a father who hadn’t really been straight with her? And even though his memories were clearer, he hadn’t really shared with Ashley what he had come to understand about his mentor...that he’d even been a mentor to Casper.

  “No. I just can’t see it.”

  Ashley pulled away. Her sapphire-blue eyes implored his for truth. “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because the man I know would never do this. His whole life was spent exposing people who created these abominations to keep the world safe. To keep you safe.”

  “Me? Of course, every man wants his family safe.”

  “No, they don’t. Most...sure, but the creators of ES1 can’t possibly believe in the sanctify of life when they’ve invented something that could destroy us all. I know your father... I know he could never do that.”

  “The man you speak of feels like a stranger to me.”

  “His distance, though hard for you I’m sure, was meant for your safety. It would break him to hear you say these things. He talked about you often and always with pride. You and your brother both.”

  “Then where is he?”

  Casper slid his hand down her arm. “I don’t know, but I think what he’s hiding is threatening the livelihood of criminal men and that’s dangerous.” He brought his thumbs up to her cheeks. “I feel like I know so much about you from his stories. A man doesn’t share things like that out of disinterest.”

  Ashley placed her hands over his. “Like what?”

  “He shared...everything. Your college graduation. How proud he was when you went into medicine. Childhood stories about what a tomboy you were.”

  She looked at him. A longing in her eyes drew him half a step closer. He didn’t want to confuse this moment. Was this look just a pleading for more information about her father or was it a signal in response to how he was feeling about her? A signal that she thought he was worth taking a risk for.

  “Clearly, I grew out of that phase,” she whispered.

  “You’re beautiful.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise. She inched closer to him. His heart rocketed into his throat as she placed one of her hands against his neck, stepping a little bit closer. “You can kiss me, if you want to.”

  His mind reeled. Tentatively, he pulled her toward him, his lips soft against hers. She eased into him and his hands slid around her back to hold her tight. He felt light-headed from the rush. She eased back and he reluctantly let her drift away.

  She smiled. “I was worried you wouldn’t take me up on my offer.”

  He laughed and reached for her hand. “I just hope that won’t be our last. I—” he gripped her hand tighter “—want to know everything about you...from you...not your father. I mean, I don’t know many women who could survive getting impaled on a tree.”

  “What do we do next?” Ashley asked.

  “Tomorrow we’ll go to ground zero.”

  “Ground zero for what?”

  “The first breakout of ES1. Black Falls, Colorado.”

  * * *

  Ashley could hardly sleep. The warmth she’d felt from Casper’s kiss stuck with her. What was this thing? She’d never been so bold before. Yes, she’d been smitten by men, but there was something about Casper that was different. He was genuine. Authentic. Men she met and dated were mostly infatuated by her looks and her job, but Casper connected with her on an entirely different level.

  Plus, considering this crisis they were in, he was as calm as any of her seasoned coworkers. She felt safe being with him. Wanted to be close to him. Was this how love started? Casper didn’t weigh every permutation of a situation in his mind, whereas an ER physician was trained to consider every possibility no matter how remote. Casper liked to operate only with the present facts while she liked to consider all facets of a situation. Together, these differences made them strong. He could reel her back in if she got too off track and she could make him examine a problem from a different angle.

  They always said that opposites attract.

  What Casper said about her father made her look at him in a different light. He knew him on a deeper level than she did. Perhaps they’d developed such a kinship because her father knew Casper was a person he could trust and so he was more open with him about his feelings. Maybe her father wasn’t the closed-off stone of ice she’d made him out to be in her mind.

  That his distance—what she considered standoffishness—was a border of protection around her family.

  Something she should be thankful for considering the kind of work he was involved in.

  Will I ever get the chance to see my father again? To see if these things that Casper believes about him are really true?

  Ashley turned to her other side. Something bothered her about the files. If what Casper said was true, that perhaps the files were password encrypted to protect the information from falling into enemy hands, then perhaps it wasn’t something bad, but something good. Casper had mentioned that these thugs always tried to have their Frankenstein-like pathogens be able to overcome a cure.

  What if those protected files contained the cure?

  Then the password would have to be something that only a trusted person would know. Maybe something only she would know. Nothing that could be discovered from the packages her father sent because what if those, or any part of their contents, were intercepted?

  The password couldn’t be exclusive just to her because what if something happened to her and she was unable to provide the password?

  Seemingly, her father wanted her and Casper together. Many clues to the puzzle were solved because of information they had shared with one another. Where had she and Casper first met?

  The Christmas party? The doll had been a gift. It had been unusual to say the least. Memorable.

  For both of them.

  Ashley threw the covers aside, exited her room and ran headlong into Casper as he exited his. Both of them tumbled to the ground in a knot of arms and legs. Ashley scrambled to her feet, her heart racing—initially she’d thought she’d run straight into an intruder.

  “Casper! What are you doing out here? I think my heart stopped.” Ashley pressed her hand into her chest.

  He took a few steps back, a look of amusement on his face. “I should ask you the same thing.”

  “The password. I think I might know what it is.”

  “Me, too,” he said.

  “What do you think it is?” Ashley said.

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “Matryoshka.”

  She nodded and they both raced to the computer. When the blank field popped up, she typed in the word.

  The file opened.

  Ashley scanned through pages. “Do you know what this is?”

  “Another recipe.”

  “Great, just what we need. Another pathogen to wor
ry about,” Ashley said, straightening up.

  “No, you’re wrong. I think this is the cure.”

  TWELVE

  The town of Black Falls, Colorado, was aptly named.

  It was a ghost town, and in the distance, Casper could see a waterfall tumbling over rocks that looked smudged with coal dust. He parked in front of a boarded-up diner that had enough large holes running through the side of the building that the plywood covering the front door seemed foolish. They exited the car and stood, examining the landscape around them.

  “What do you think happened here?” Ashley asked.

  “Looks like we’ll need to do some digging to find out.”

  “In there?”

  “Can you think of a better place? The town’s not that big and the location of the medical center isn’t clearly obvious. It could be miles from here. Maybe there’s a phone book in there or something. An old newspaper. Probably should look in each of these structures.”

  “After you.” Ashley motioned.

  “No, ladies first.” Casper smiled.

  “Not when there’re snakes and other undesirable creepy crawlies inside. I’ve already faced one life-threatening event.”

  Ashley didn’t turn to him as she said those words. She probably meant it as a joke, but her tone suggested otherwise. Maybe humor in light of what they were seeing wasn’t appropriate. Her mood seemed dampened, wary.

  Even the sky seemed angry as it brewed new storm clouds.

  He stepped up to the crumbling sidewalk. A few steps to the side of the door, he was able to duck down and enter the diner. Life here looked suspended. There were still dirty plates and glasses on the tables. Food that may have remained had likely been scavenged by the varmints Ashley feared.

  Evidently, even ER doctors had their limits.

  He went behind the service counter, the red tile broken. Looked like the copper piping had been taken. He shuffled around until he found what he hoped for.

  An old stack of town newspapers of varying dates spanning a two-month period. It looked like the paper was generated once a week and so perhaps they could give him an indication of whether anything mysterious had happened that might correlate to the demise of the town. He set them on the counter, setting tufts of dirt into the air, and he wondered if there was anything biological attached to them.