Biowar

58

The flavor of the soup leaned heavily toward the metallic, but Dean sipped it off the spoon anyway.

“You look like Little Red Riding Hood,” snickered Lia, sitting across from him at the table.

“Thanks.” Dean left the towel draped over his head and took another sip of soup.

“You know, maybe you should let your hair grow.” Lia came over and started playing with the towel, arranging it as if it were a mop of hair. “You’d look good as a hippie.”

“Probably come in gray,” said Dean.

“Oh, Charlie, you’re not that old,” said Lia. She ran her fingers across the back of his neck, which still felt damp from the shower.

“I could dye it. I always wanted to be a blond.”

She slid her hands across his shoulders, starting to knead his muscles. Dean let himself lean back against the chair, his lats gradually relaxing. Her hands worked downward, then around to his chest.

He took another sip of soup.

“I could use a backrub,” she told him.

“Yeah?”

“It’d be nice,” she said, sliding her fingers up to his neck and then brushing his chin lightly. “Very nice.”

“Might be,” he said, taking another sip of soup.

Lia took the spoon from his hand and set it on the table. Dean didn’t need any more hints — he pushed up and let her fold her body into his. The towel fell off his head.

“You think they got this place bugged?” he asked her.

“Of course.”

She moved backward from the table. Dean put his hands over her thighs, then brought them up to her pants and unbuttoned them.

“Let’s go in the bedroom,” she said as he slid them down.

“My idea exactly,” said Dean, but rather than moving he pulled off her black T-shirt and ran his hands over her bra. He slid his fingers under the top, rubbing her left nipple, then moved up to pull the straps down from her shoulders. He pulled the cloth gently away from her breasts.

“The bedroom,” she whispered.

“Yeah,” said Dean, putting his mouth on hers.

Something started to beep.

“Fuck,” said Charlie.

“Not now,” said Lia, pulling her straps up. “I told you the bastards were listening.”

Dean would have ignored the summons, but Lia had already donned her T-shirt, going to the video conference area and snapping on the send unit.

“We interrupting something?” asked Rockman. He wasn’t on-screen. The communications system in the trailer was part of the DoD network and arguably among the most secure in the world. Nonetheless, it wasn’t the NSA’s and therefore protocol called for communications from the Art Room to be voice only.

Unfortunately, the protocol didn’t play both ways.

“Hot steaming sex.”

“Great,” said Rockman. “We’ll roll tape.”

“Where the hell have you been?”

“We’re handling a difficult situation in Asia,” he said. “I can’t give you other details.”

“Tommy?”

“I can’t give you other details.”

Dean walked over to the area covered by the video camera.

“What’s the status of the disease?” Dean asked.

“Roughly two dozen confirmed cases, with a bunch more probables.”

“A bunch?”

“I don’t have the details,” said Telach. “Feeling better?”

“Much. How come I don’t have it?”

“We’re not sure. I can’t get into specifics.”

“Did you find Kegan?”

“Charlie, you have to remember that the communications system we’re using is not of the same caliber as our usual network.”

“Oh, come on,” said Lia.

“I have to follow the rules,” said the Art Room supervisor. “We have an update for you, and new mission data if you’re up to it,” said Telach.

“We’re up to it,” said Lia.

“We’re going to set up a conference call with some of Johnny Bib’s team and the bio experts, probably in about a half hour,” said Telach.

“You can do that, but you can’t tell us about Tommy or Kegan?” said Lia.

“Mr. Karr is all right,” said Rubens, coming onto the line. “We will give you a full update as soon as you’re on the secure network. Reactivate your communication devices and you can participate in the conference call.”

“Did Kegan make this thing?” asked Dean.

“The conference call will begin in thirty minutes,” said Rubens. “Be ready.”

“We will be,” said Dean, grabbing hold of Lia’s arm.

“The bacteria is definitely man-made, and was definitely designed to resist penicillin-related drugs,” said Dr. Chaucer. “Its transmission is through bodily fluids, or at least we’re guessing it is. The cat was a host. What we don’t understand is how it gets from the skin into the bloodstream, since there didn’t appear to be bites. But it’s not as contagious as, say, a flu virus would be.”

“Does that mean it wasn’t intended as a biological weapon?” asked Dean.

“Impossible to say. Frankly, if you were trying to use an agent like this as a weapon, you wouldn’t want it to be too contagious; otherwise you’d eventually die from it yourself.”

“Unless there was an antidote,” said Dean.

“Right.”

“And there is one.”

“We don’t know that yet, Charlie,” said Rubens.

“It still very possibly was an accident,” said Lester, who was speaking via a secure connection on a military aircraft headed back to the States. “We haven’t completed the autopsy on the cat, but the most likely course would have the cat catching it from the man who had been killed at Dr. Kegan’s, then infecting the others. If the man had it and was carrying it when he arrived, that would explain the cases outside of Athens.”

“Probably the two men in New York City sheltered him,” said Segio Nakami. “If they shared drinking or eating implements, had sex, any sort of intimate contact like that.”

“Gorman didn’t sleep with the cat,” said Dean sarcastically.

No one laughed.

“The effect of the host on the organism remains to be seen,” said Chaucer. “Again, we’re making guesses here based on incomplete data.”

Dean leaned back in the chair, his legs resting on the floor. Lia had her shoes off and was running her feet up and down them, teasing him.

“Is it always fatal?” asked Dean.

“Not enough cases to tell,” replied Lester. “So far, though, the answer has been yes. Of course, in terms of a disease outbreak, we’re at a very early stage — an incredibly early stage. We’re basically there at birth. That’s unheard of.”

“Maybe we’re not,” said Rubens. “It’s possible this has struck before and hasn’t been recognized.”

The experts began talking about that possibility. For Dean, the real question was whether Kegan had invented the bacteria.

And if so, why?

Money.

No.

Why?

He wouldn’t have.

“There’s a two-week gap in Kegan’s whereabouts six months ago that we’re looking at,” said Segio. “If we can find another outbreak, we might link the two.”

“Excuse me, what did you say?” asked Dean.

“It’s possible that Dr. Kegan was working on the bacteria elsewhere,” said the Desk Three analyst. “Because while he could have used the facilities at either his school or the Hudson Valley lab, we’ve come up with nothing definitive there.”

“He may just have been very careful,” said Chaucer.

“He wouldn’t do this,” said Dean.

No one spoke for a moment.

“The other theory would be that UKD came up with it,” said Segio finally. “And that for some reason they believed Dr. Kegan could cure it. And that they need a cure. The man in his house must have been their emissary. Instead of going with him, Dr. Kegan killed him.”

That didn’t fit particularly well, Dean thought. The people who had contacted him didn’t refer to the incident at all.

“We have linked the people who contacted you to UKD, Charlie,” added Rubens. “Thanks to Hercules. His actual name was Fedor Mylonas and he was a scientist and professor in Athens until a few years ago when he was involved in a pornography scandal with one of his students. Radoslaw Dlugsko contacted him roughly six weeks ago and he seems to have been doing some work for him. His area is bacteria, but the Greek military has a file on him, so he must have been familiar with weapons programs in some way.”

“Dlugsko is the arms dealer?” asked Lia, looking at Charlie.

“That’s his main claim to fame,” said Rubens. “He also runs a lucrative business selling stolen antiquities.”

“He has the bacteria?” asked Dean.

“We’re in the process of figuring that out.”

“How does Thailand come into this?” asked Dean.

“That’s where Kegan seems to have gone,” Rubens told him.

“Why?”

“Perhaps seeking a cure or an antidote. But we were hoping you might shed some light on his specific whereabouts,” said Rubens. “He’s been there before, but we haven’t found any photos or anything of that nature among his personal belongings. Did he mention any area in particular?”

“Yes,” said Dean. “Long time ago. When he was just out of school.”

“When he was just out of school?”

For the first time since Dean had met Rubens, the Desk Three director seemed surprised. Dean told him about Kegan’s stint as a WHO doctor. Apparently his resume did not list his months in Thailand along with his longer stays in Malaysia and the Philippines.

“Interesting,” said Rubens.

“What time were you talking about?” Dean asked.

“He was there eighteen months ago,” said Rubens. “For two weeks.”

“You sure? Eighteen months ago — I think he would have told me.”

“As far as ever going back to Thailand, were there other times?” asked Rubens.

Dean shook his head, looking at Lia. “Not that I know.”

“That’s where Tommy’s working on locating him?” asked Lia.

“Along those lines. He’s still in the bush with the Thai forces across the border.”

Dean glanced at her. Lia shook her head. It was clear that Rubens wasn’t giving them the whole story.

“What do we do now?” asked Dean.

“We’ve tracked Hercules’ travels over the past month and we’re reviewing intercepts related to those cities,” said Segio. “We’re still in the process of sorting everything out, but the theory that we have is that Hercules brought the bacteria with him to labs. We have two wire transactions that back this up, though we still need more details.”

“We’ll get them,” said Rubens. “In the meantime, we want to get people in place to move quickly once we have the details.”

“Makes sense,” said Dean.

“I’m glad you feel that way, Mr. Dean. If you feel up to traveling, I’d like you and Miss DeFrancesca to head south to the most problematic location.”

“Fine.”

“Where are we going?” Lia asked.

“Syria. Your plane should be waiting on the tarmac.”