Fugitive Spy Page 9

  “And you?” she asked, waving the cup he offered away, almost not wanting to ask the question. “Did you work together in the CIA?”

  Casper’s eyes glanced away. He sat still for a few minutes. His silence was verification enough in her eyes. Finally, he turned back to her. “Yes, Russell recruited me, right after I finished my infectious disease fellowship.”

  Suddenly, her throat was dry and all she wanted was the cup of fluid back.

  Right now, all this was turning out to be more than Ashley could take. Not only had her father been distant, but he’d also lied to her. The betrayal tarnished the precious few good memories she had of him. Maybe she was being selfish, but what little girl wasn’t eager to have every spare ounce of her father’s attention? To be the center of his world?

  “If I told you he loved you...very much...you’d probably have a hard time believing that.”

  “You’d be right.”

  “I think these packages he sent you were more than just sharing information. It meant he trusted you. He knew you’d make the right decision with the information. Let me ask you...did your father ever give you other gifts from his ‘travels’?”

  “Sure. He always had presents when he came home for me and my brother.”

  “Anything that struck you as odd or unusual? Mysterious?”

  “One time he brought me back a set of those Russian Matryoshka nesting dolls. It’s one of my favorite toy gifts.”

  “You know, he gave me a set of those, as well. I found it kind of odd.” Casper left her side and grabbed the pile of photos her father sent. “I’ve been analyzing these pictures a lot to see if anything struck me.” He leafed through them until he found what he was looking for. “Was it like this one?”

  Ashley narrowed her eyes. Her throat felt thick. Why hadn’t she noticed this before? Memories were a funny thing and perhaps Casper was right to be concerned because the person holding out that doll to her with outstretched arms was not her father, but a Russian scientist her father had brought to her house once to visit.

  “I was at this party,” Casper said.

  “Vladimir was his name.”

  “He was a defector. One of the top Russian scientists during the heyday of their program, which they claim they’ve dismantled.”

  “My father said he was the head of a pharmaceutical company.”

  “That’s one of the ways they disguised their activities...by framing them within the context of legitimate enterprises. Do you know what happened to him?”

  “I don’t think my father ever told me.”

  Casper tapped the stack of images against his other hand. “Do you know who else is in these photographs? Heads of Homeland Security, the NSA and the FBI. Some are former employees, but they still could have fingers within their organizations. I’m not calling them guilty, but it adds to my theory that your father didn’t know who to trust.”

  Ashley’s mind reeled. What exactly had her father been involved in?

  “The point I wanted to make was that all of those things your father gave you were a way to stay connected to you. Some men use gifts as a substitute for emotional connection.” His eyes grew distant for a moment. “His absence also safeguarded you against some evil men. I think, ultimately, he was trying to protect you.”

  Ashley’s eyes teared. Had she been too harsh with her father growing up? Now all she wanted was to have him back.

  “Where do we go next?”

  Casper pointed to Vladimir again. “I know this man was convinced that the Russians were continuing their weapons program. He spent a lot of time trying to convince us, as in the US, not to let our guard down in respect to what our adversaries could create to kill us.”

  “How could Vladimir know for sure what the Russians were doing if he’d left the country?”

  “Other than the fact that he taught them all the tricks that they know?” Casper sighed. Did he truly want to share this information with her? “Vladimir was convinced his old counterparts were trying to combine Ebola and smallpox.”

  “Why?”

  “They wanted to have an unstoppable weapon. In his book, Vladimir wrote that he’d seen a successful test in rabbits. When the animals were infected they exhibited both signs of smallpox and Ebola.”

  “There’s no cure for such a weapon, is there?” Ashley said.

  “Exactly. This is always the main goal of any bioweapon. You don’t want your enemy to have any chance of recovery.”

  A crushing weight settled over Ashley. All this new information...about her father...about the world...made her head spin. She didn’t know what to do. What advice could she give Casper—a confessed spy?

  “Who planted and detonated that device at the cabin?” Ashley asked. It was a question that had been burning in her mind. “Did putting the thumb drive into the computer trip it?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve been trying to figure that out, but it seemed like a trap for your father or whoever might come looking for him.”

  “What are we supposed to do? We can’t investigate anything further while I have this tube in my chest and we don’t know where to go.” The light shifted in the cabin. Darkness was coming and the setting sun seemed representative of something other than just the time changing. What could they do?

  “I’m aware of a safe house not too far from here. We’ll go there tomorrow. The computer equipment should be secure and hopefully we’ll be able to see what’s on the thumb drive your father sent you.”

  Ashley turned on her left side away from Casper, her tears falling, and she didn’t possess the energy required to wipe them away.

  “Get some sleep. It’s hard to see past the obstacles when you’re tired.”

  She closed her eyes—more because she didn’t want to continue this conversation with him. How could he be so positive considering their circumstances? Ashley dreaded tomorrow. Taking a chest tube out was not her idea of fun. And then what...more road travel? Every muscle in her body cried for rest...and not just for a few hours.

  If only she could just go home.

  NINE

  Casper held on to Ashley’s arm as she walked gingerly to the car, her hand pressing against her side where he’d removed the chest tube just a few hours ago. She was trying to be brave about it. What he wouldn’t give to be able to administer to her something more potent than just the over-the-counter pain relievers, which she had taken both types of. Tears still welled in her eyes and the sharp, sympathetic pains in his own chest intensified with every tear that rolled down her cheek.

  “Are you sure you’re okay? How’s your breathing?” Casper asked.

  They were at their car and he opened the passenger door for her. Gingerly, she sat down, closed her eyes and pressed her head into the seat. Counterpressure was a known relief of pain. Did she also have a headache? The chest pain would be bad enough to deal with.

  He kneeled on the ground next to her. “Ashley, I’ll worry more if you don’t say anything to me.”

  Ashley brushed the tears from her cheeks. “I’m fine, but I’m not fine.” They both looked rough even though they’d taken somewhat warm baths. Casper had heated pots full of water on the woodstove to get something tolerable temperature-wise to bathe in.

  “This whole thing is insanity,” Ashley said. “I’m not even sure what we’re trying to accomplish anymore. I was impaled by a tree branch—that’s the kind of thing that can kill a person. You rigged up a chest tube. I’ve haven’t even had a chest X-ray to know if my lung is inflated enough to be physically able to run from these people.”

  Casper both knew and didn’t know what to say. Understanding the stress they were under was one thing but rationalizing it, explaining it, was another. Ashley was used to controlling uncontrollable things. It was her gift...her specialty. She’d had years of training perfecting it. Now their lives were anything but
controllable. There were too many outside forces. Too many unknown questions. Both of them were broken mentally, physically...spiritually?

  Part of her reaching the end of her emotional rope, he was sure, had to do with her lack of sleep. She’d tossed and turned through much of the night and he’d sat like a hawk, making sure the mason jar didn’t spill over. If she’d been in a hospital, the end of her chest tube would have been in a much more secure contraption. Every time she’d moved he’d worried she would knock it over. With each toss and turn, he’d had to check to make sure everything was as it should be. Plus, sleeping on a dirty wooden floor didn’t generally lull people into a deep sleep.

  “We’re both tired. I’m not sure what you want me to say. How can I help you? Physically, I’m confident your lung is fine. Your breathing is normal. Oxygen levels are good. You have pain, but it’s to be expected. Remember, people lived through injuries much worse than yours without all the fancy medical equipment we have nowadays.”

  “True, but a lot of them died, too.”

  What could he say? She was right. Attempt number one at reassuring a female had been an epic fail. Then again, with the amount of his memory that had returned, it was now clear he hadn’t had a lot of relationships with women to practice such techniques.

  Casper sat down on the ground next to her open car door and took a stick, pushing over rocks and leaves as he thought of the next thing to say. Each day seemed to give him a few more years of his memory back. Now, he remembered working with Ashley’s father in the CIA hunting down bioweapons, taking care of people during outbreaks, but mostly keeping their eye out for others stealing the pathogens that infected their patients. After a virus infected its host, it generally mutated into something more potent. That was what every illegal bioweapons program wanted and foreign entities would send scavengers to collect it. Getting the mutation often required getting a sample directly from the source.

  “We could go to the police, but I don’t think that’s a wise move. I think the number of these men within the CIA and other agencies that your father didn’t trust is small—after all, most people working for these organizations are hardworking and respectable. The problem is we don’t know how far the reach of these men is. Who they corrupted.”

  He gave her a chance to say something...anything. She remained silent, staring straight ahead.

  “What we have to do is operate on facts that we know. We know that someone your father told you not to trust is looking for me. It could be that he knows about the packages. We know they’ll kill to get their hands on what they want. We know it has something to do with bioweapons. Trying to tell a story like this to a local police department is going to get us psychiatric evaluations.”

  He waited as she processed his theory.

  “I just feel lost. I want my life back...even with all its imperfections.”

  “I think the only possible way of making that happen is to take the next step. We have to follow the bit of information that your father gave you, which means finding out what is on that thumb drive. Maybe by the time we get to the safe house, I’ll have remembered more and maybe know a person or two we can trust within the CIA. Until then, I think it’s best to operate on our own.”

  She acquiesced, but Casper could tell it was with a healthy dose of reservation.

  So be it.

  He stood up, brushed the dead matter from his backside and got into the driver’s seat. Ashley moved in stilted motions but was able to secure her own seat belt. It was what he wanted to see—that she was somewhat engaged in the process. Even though she doubted that this plan was the best course of action, she would try to do what she could to make the plan succeed.

  Casper eased the car onto the road. He wanted to talk more, but all she did was lean against the door, her eyes distant and away from his own.

  * * *

  After hours of travel, they stopped at a gas station. Luckily, Casper had found some cash in her father’s cabin that he’d stashed in the car before the explosion. They couldn’t stay off the grid indefinitely, but hopefully it was enough to last them until they found the answers that they needed.

  Ashley was in the bathroom attempting to freshen up. What she needed was a long hot bath. Something with bubbles sounded so luxurious her pulse quickened at the thought.

  Her side ached, but it was tolerable. With each passing mile, the chances of her lung deflating became more remote, but it hovered in the back of her mind as a risk and it made her doubtful about being able to do any strenuous activity.

  At the sink, as she was rinsing her face with water, she heard the faint squeak of door hinges. She groped for a paper towel, patting the coarse fibers against her face.

  When she glanced up into the fractured mirror there was a man standing behind her.

  Ashley turned to face him, her heart in her throat. The paper towel she held drifted to the floor in surrender.

  Jared Fleming.

  How had he found them? He advanced forward two steps. Instinctively, she backed up until the edge of the porcelain bit into her back. She was pinned between this dilapidated sink and the exit. He was simply dressed—jeans and a red polo shirt. Chasing innocent people was evidently easier in casual clothes.

  He slid his fingers up her arm and cupped her chin gently between his thumb and index finger. Ashley tensed her body to keep him from sensing her trembling, but it only intensified her shaking.

  “I see that you weren’t very honest with me. Here you had Casper all along. Then I find out that you’re Russell’s daughter after you take Casper from the hospital and that Russell may have sent something to you. Several items in fact. Your coworkers like to talk all about your mysterious packages. When a doctor goes missing with a patient, they feel it’s their duty to spill all that they know. Good, innocent people tend to do that.”

  Ashley swallowed hard. She tried to edge her head back to free herself from his grip, but he only tightened his fingers in response. How could his bony appendages feel so much like steel?

  “Did you know your father hid your true identity from me? Got fake pictures for his desk and everything.” His teeth scraped over his lower lip. “Where are the items your father sent you?”

  “I don’t have them.” That was the truth. They weren’t physically on her body. Where was Casper? Was he still alive?

  “Then you’re going to show me where they are.”

  It was as if her body had a mind of its own. She shook her head almost imperceptivity, but it was like the pin being pulled from the grenade, releasing Jared’s anger. He backhanded her so quickly she hadn’t even seen his hand coming toward her face. First, she was falling. Then the blinding pain. Her teeth rattled. She reached out to catch herself, but he grabbed her shoulder and righted her before she splayed out at his feet. The pain in her chest flared.

  Ashley brought her fingers up to her face. The remnants of his hand making contact with her cheek burned like acid. Tears welled in her eyes. She willed Casper to come to her. Had they done something to him? Or was he absent because she hadn’t yet crossed that time frame where he’d be concerned about her missing.

  The room spun. She blinked her eyes, hoping she was seeing what she thought and not manufacturing a hallucination due to a brain injury.

  The door to the bathroom was cracked open...and widening.

  She saw a hand grip the edge, pushing it open ever so slowly to prevent any noise from alerting the madman standing in front of her.

  “Did you kill my father?”

  Jared shrugged, like her question was something as insignificant as asking him for the time.

  “What did he ever do to you? He trusted you. You were supposed to take care of him.”

  Jared released his grip from her shoulder and Ashley tilted off balance. Though it pained her to admit it, she’d been relying on his grip to keep her upright. She braced herself aga
inst the sink. Casper was now fully in the bathroom, having squeezed his body through the smallest crack, easing the door closed behind him.

  “I did take care of him!” Jared yelled. “I gave him the world for his knowledge. He had everything he wanted until his moral compass reengaged. You—” he inhaled sharply “—and your family are going to lose everything now for the decisions he’s made.”

  “For what?” Ashley asked. “What were these choices?”

  “I’m not going to argue this point with you. The only thing I need from you is whatever your father sent you. Then you’ll be coming with me.”

  Casper held a bat in his hands. Ashley tried not to betray his position with a glance of her eyes. If she stared at Jared directly, she could make out Casper’s movements in the periphery.

  “If you want to see your family again, you will give me those items.”

  Casper raised the bat above his head. He mouthed one word three times.

  Duck!

  Ashley dropped. The bat making contact with the side of Jared’s body caused her stomach to flip with nausea. Jared groaned, falling first against the sink and then smacking his head on the dirty tile floor, landing over her and forcing her fully to the ground.

  Casper quickly pulled the now unconscious Jared off her and grabbed her, pulling her up onto her feet. They ran back to the car and got in. Casper turned the engine over and drove his foot into the gas pedal. The car shot forward, even a little quicker than Casper expected, and the car shimmied violently side to side until he was able get purchase on the wheel.

  “I don’t know how long we have before they tail us. Somehow, they’re tracking us. We need to figure out right now how. Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

  The adrenaline rush of what he’d done for her had muted the sting from Jared’s slap. “Nothing I won’t recover from. The tree was a little more vicious.”

  Casper nodded. “What did Jared say?”

  Ashley turned around and looked behind them. Nothing but empty road. “He wants the things my father sent me. Was he alone?”