Code of Conduct

CHAPTER 15

Lying in the sill to Decker’s left was a short piece of rebar used for propping open the window. She grabbed it. It wasn’t much of a weapon, but it was something.

There was another noise from inside, followed by the groan of metal on metal and the scraping of wood against stone as the faded front door creaked and began to open.

She made ready to strike until she saw the outline of Harvath’s hazmat suit as he stepped out of the clinic.

“What the hell are you doing? I thought you were checking the exterior of the building.”

“I saw enough. Come inside.”

Decker followed him. Parts of the interior were illuminated with an eerie, greenish glow. Harvath had brought along a box of his own full-sized chemlights and was snapping and tossing them into various corners as he went. They provided enough light to see by, but not so much that it would be noticed from outside.

“What was that crash I heard?” Decker asked.

“Nothing,” Harvath replied. “I had to break a window to get in.”

“Let me check the integrity of your suit.”

“I’m fine.” He was already overheating and not in a good mood.

“Let me check,” Decker insisted.

Harvath complied and she pulled out her headlamp, activated the low-level red beam, and examined him from head to toe.

“You’re good.”

“Thanks,” he said. “Now, come look at this.”

He led her into the main ward. It was a graveyard of metal bedframes. All of the mattresses had been stripped away. There wasn’t a sheet or blanket to be seen either.

“It’s like a swarm of locusts came through here,” Decker stated. “Even the mosquito netting and privacy dividers are gone.”

All of the bedframes had been jumbled together in the center of the ward. Harvath pulled a large plastic bottle of liquid from his bag and began spraying it in different places around the room.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“Luminol. It reacts with the iron in hemoglobin. If there’s any blood in here, it’ll start glowing blue.”

Decker waited, but she didn’t see anything. Neither did Harvath.

“There,” she suddenly said, pointing to an area glowing in the corner. “And there. And there.”

Harvath turned and looked at each occurrence, along with several others that were actively glowing.

“My God,” Decker exclaimed. “There’s blood everywhere!”

“Take it easy,” replied Harvath, as he began spraying more luminol around the room. He even stood on one of the bedframes to spray several spots along the ceiling. All of them started to glow blue.

“How is that possible?” she asked. “It’s like the whole ward was painted in blood.”

“Not exactly,” he said as he exited the ward and made his way through the clinic, randomly spraying walls, doors, floors, windows, and ceilings with the luminol.

“It’s all glowing,” he heard her shout as she trailed behind him. “Every single thing you’re spraying.”

She caught up with him in the small dispensary that also acted as the clinic’s laboratory. Harvath was spraying the small, empty refrigerator. It all glowed blue.

“I don’t understand,” she said.

“There’s only two other substances that can cause luminol to glow like this and I don’t think it’s the first one.”

“What’s the first one?”

Harvath got out an S and an H before catching himself and saying, “Excrement.”

“And the second?” Decker asked.

“Bleach.”

“Bleach?”

He nodded. “I think this entire place has been sanitized. Literally from top to bottom. I also think,” he began, but his voice trailed off as something caught his eye.

“What is it?”

Harvath motioned for her to back out of the dispensary. He had been bending down near the tiny fridge and saw something beneath the cabinets on the adjacent wall.

There was a narrow strip of black, plastic trim along the top of the fridge that had begun to peel back on one side. Harvath helped it the rest of the way off.

Lying down on his stomach, he slid the piece of trim under the cabinets and coaxed out the item from underneath. Once he got it out, he held it up.

“What is it?” Decker repeated from the doorway. It looked like a giant mint the size of a hockey puck. It was chipped, and a large portion appeared to have been burned.

“No one ever used these when you were here?”

“I don’t even know what it is.”

Harvath sprayed it with luminol. Seconds later it started to glow.

“It’s a bleach tablet,” he said.

“Why would that be here?”

“Drop this in a pie plate and set it on top of a camping stove, and you can gasify it. The fumes go everywhere and will sanitize anything your liquid bleach missed.”

“Then you’re right. The clinic was sanitized. But by whom? And why? What were they sanitizing?”

Good questions, none of which Harvath wanted to waste time deciphering right now. His scrubs were soaked through and the sweat was rolling down his face into his eyes. He wanted to finish looking around and get the hell out of here.

Retreating to the front door, he reenacted what he had seen on the video. Though someone outside had filmed it, he could approximate where the shooters had been standing when they entered and had opened fire.

In his restrictive biohazard suit, Harvath pantomimed a tactical entry, stepping inside with a rifle and shooting.

If the shooters had been following the same protocols he was, they might have wanted a few modifications to their weapons. Wearing the layers of gloves, the more refined features of the weapons would be difficult to manipulate. Perhaps they had upgraded to larger trigger guards and beefier charging handles to accommodate their thicker, less dexterous fingers.

It was also possible that for such a quick, in-and-out assignment where no resistance would have been expected, the men had just made do with whatever weapons they normally carried or had access to. There was no way of knowing for sure.

What he was able to know for sure came from examining the wall directly opposite the front door.

Based on the furniture scattered nearby, it had been some sort of clerical or nurse’s station, likely the place patients checked in and then were shown to a row of chairs where they would wait to see one of the clinic’s medical staff.

He ran his hand up and down the entire wall.

“What do you see?” Decker asked him.

“It’s not what I see,” said Harvath. “But what I don’t see. There are no bullet holes. At least not anymore. Look.”

She bent down and studied the places he pointed to.

“Whoever this was,” he continued, “they were absolute professionals. They did a full cleanup job. Right down to digging out the bullets and patching and painting the walls.”

While Decker looked for any records of what might have been going on at the clinic, Harvath examined the walls and floor in the ward and found more evidence of the walls having been repaired.

He was convinced that whoever it was had come in, killed the staff, and then had murdered all of the patients. He didn’t need to ask where their bodies had been taken. He already knew.

Decker rejoined him from the back of the clinic and shook her head.

“I can’t find anything,” she said.

“I’m not surprised,” he replied. “Don’t worry. We’ve seen enough. Let’s get out of here.”

Decker nodded and they exited the clinic. Harvath went first.

As was his habit, he took a long, slow look around before signaling that it was safe for her to join him. It was still raining and the moment they stepped out from under the overhang, the rain began streaking down their faceplates.

Neither of them cared. They were both bordering on heatstroke. All that mattered was getting out of the suits.

Reentering the jungle, they retraced their steps to where they had positioned the canisters. Harvath had already mixed the solution inside, but he picked up each one and gave it a good shake before pumping their handles up and down.

It was a maddening process to have to go through when you were this uncomfortable, but because their lives depended on it, they took extra precautions not to rush things. They had made it this far. It was only a little bit further. Now was not the time to be cutting any corners.

Decker reminded Harvath to take a deep breath. It was thick with humidity, but he did so anyway. She then lifted the wand attached to her canister and began spraying him down.

He lifted his arms in the air and turned in a slow circle. She stopped to pump the handle and then had him repeat the process. He did the same for her.

They did it again and again until they had both exhausted two full canisters of the solution. Then came the hard part — doffing the PPE.

All sorts of horrible diseases had infected untold numbers of medical workers over the years — not because their suits had failed, but because they had failed to properly remove those suits.

Next to visiting an outbreak, the next most dangerous step involved was slithering out of the suit. The doffing procedure required steely patience and total concentration. Slowly, carefully, Decker walked him through every step.

Their scrubs and everything else went into the hole he had previously dug and packed with tinder.

While Decker showered, he doused the pile of gear with some of the kerosene he’d asked the Brits to source for the clinic. As soon as the fire was burning good and hot, it was his turn to shower.

He stood under the water and used the soap and shampoo to clean himself from top to bottom. His PPE had held and he was confident they had followed all the doffing procedures correctly. He wasn’t a hypochondriac and didn’t need to scrub himself raw.

He allowed the lukewarm water to trickle over his neck and shoulders. He was glad the clinic part was over. They would have to go back and check the burn pit, but it was pro forma at this point and at least he wouldn’t have to get back in one of those suits. It did indeed feel like he had competed in an Ironman race in one hundred degree heat.

He reached down for one of the water bottles mixed with Gatorade powder he had left on the edge of the shower, but it wasn’t there.

Straightening up, he saw Decker. She was standing there, naked, just looking at him with the bottle of Gatorade in her hand. Then, she stepped into the shower.