Dead Water

35

Olivia Watson was sitting in Michael Lang's office. The director of the CDC was reaming her a new one. Sitting across from him at his desk, she wasn't budging an inch. Lawrence Larkin was also in attendance, sitting off to one side in a leather chair.

"Olivia, do you honestly expect me to believe that you just happened on what might be the most dangerous toxin ever produced from the result of an anonymous phone tip?"

"I didn't say that, sir. I told you that I received the tip over the phone from someone I trust, and that is how I came to possess it. I immediately called Lawrence here, he met me, and I handed it over to him." Larkin nodded in agreement, supporting the latter part of her statement.

"Don't you think that the president is going to ask how in the hell we came up with this, when half of our intelligence force is looking for it?"

"I'm sure he will, sir, and I'm just as sure that you will provide a satisfactory answer. However, you will not get any more information from me. I gave my word, and I will keep my word. If you can't respect that, you can fire me!"

"Don't think I won't."

"Don't think I'm scared," she snapped back, eyes blazing. "Michael, we have the damned thing. The threat was stopped. You will get the credit. Get off my ass."

The phone on the director's desk rang. Lang picked it up to hear his secretary inform him that the president was on the phone.

"Put him through. Yes, Mr. President. You have heard correctly. We are in possession of what we believe was the synthetic agent that was responsible for the devastation in Alaska. There is no way to know if this is all of it, but we believe the amount we have would most certainly have been used as a terrorist act. We are just starting to study it. It's under the strongest CDC security available."

"I am very interested in learning how you obtained this, Michael," President Lamar demanded.

"Assistant Director Watson has a contact that led her to it."

"Michael, you have no idea of the resources I have put forth to locate this. Then Irving Vickers gets a phone call that you have it. I would like the rest of the story."

"Sir, that's a little difficult at the moment."

"Difficult?"

"Yes, sir. Watson is not willing to share any further information."

"Get Watson. I want to speak to her direct."

"She's sitting across from me. With your permission, I will put this call on speaker."

"Do it."

"Mr. President, you are now on speaker with me, Olivia Watson, and Lawrence Larkin. He's my most valuable team leader."

"Have Larkin leave. He's not to be part of this conversation."

Without a word and without looking at anyone, Larkin left the room.

"Larkin has left, sir. It's only Watson and me."

"Ms. Watson, I want to know, right now, all the specifics involved in how you obtained this toxin."

Olivia Watson gritted her teeth and responded, "I'm sorry, Mr. President, I can't do that. I was directed to it by someone I trust, and it was insisted that this person remain anonymous. I will not betray that trust. I believe the bigger picture is the fact we have it, not how I got it."

"Ms. Watson, I am the president of the United States, and I am ordering you to reveal any and all information you have pertinent to this discussion. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir; however, you have to understand that my word is more important to me than losing my job."

"Listen to me very carefully, Ms. Watson. I'm not talking about your job. You either start explaining, or you will go to jail for a very long time. I will throw every charge at you that the Department of Justice can possibly come up with, and I will make them stick, including aiding and abetting a terrorist organization. Do you understand what I am saying?"

"Yes, sir. Perfectly. I also understand our country was formed and built on principal. I am doing nothing different."

"Yes, you are, Ms. Watson. You are going to jail. Michael, hold Ms. Watson under lock and key until an FBI team arrives to take her into custody. If she is not there when the team gets there, I will hold you directly responsible." The call ended.

"Olivia, wake up. The man is serious. Hell, you could end up in GTMO. I mean fake a name, make up a story, but do something. I don't agree with what you're doing, but I don't want to see you go to jail either."

"Michael, anything I say I'm going to have to back up with proof. I can't — I won't — concoct some story. I gave my word, and I will keep my word, no matter what the consequences. If the president can't respect that, well, that is his problem. I don't want to talk about it. I'll wait in my office for the FBI. You have my word I won't run." She got up to leave.

Michael Lang stopped her. "Olivia, if you want to slip out the back, I won't stop you. I don't agree with you in the manner you have decided to take, but I also think it's wrong for you to be jailed."

"Thank you, Michael, but it's my decision, and I will live with it." With a nod, she walked out of his office headed for her own.

After a few moments, Lang instructed his secretary to connect him with the president. A few moments later, his phone rang, and answering it, he heard, "Please wait for the president."

"Yes, Michael. I take it that Ms. Watson has decided to cooperate?"

"Not exactly, sir. In fact, I am placing this call in defense of Ms. Watson." He swallowed hard. "Sir, she has some valid points. I am asking you to go easy on her."

"Michael, I have no wish to incarcerate Ms. Watson. However, it is imperative that everyone get on board with the expectations of my administration. When I ask questions, I want answers. When I don't get them, there will be consequences. Ms. Watson is willfully withholding information that I deem extremely important. It's my call. It's not just about how she came to find this toxin; it is what might domino from that action. Unless she is willing to cooperate, she will be charged with some extremely serious criminal charges."

"Mr. President, Olivia Watson is one of the most valuable assets in this agency. To lose her would damage the CDC's abilities."

"Nonetheless, Michael, it is what it is. Either she discloses the information she has, or else."

"Mr. President, please indulge me one more point."

"Go on."

"All of this ultimately comes back to the matter of trust, of which there is damned little these days. It was trust that allowed Olivia to obtain this agent. Trust and only trust. Hell, our own security agencies don't trust each other. I fully understand your need to know information, as that enables you to make the best decisions. However, I can also see that under extraordinary extenuating circumstances, it is just as important to keep a trust in place. Remember, if that had not been in play, we would not have this agent. Looking at the big picture, I strongly implore you to respect Ms. Watson's contact and just be thankful that she had that contact, for who knows when that might help us out at some point in the future."

Silence. Then, "I don't like it, Michael, but I do see your point. I'll have to think about it. I make no promises, but for the moment, I will hold off having her picked up. That does not mean I won't change my mind and have her picked up tomorrow. I'll have to think about it, strongly."

"Thank you, Mr. President. That's all I ask." Director Lang then called Olivia Watson. "You're off the hook for the moment, but it could only be temporary."

Elliott Ragar was in a quiet conversation with Matt Sanderson in the Situation Room. The directors of the major agencies were also present, milling about waiting on the arrival of President Lamar. It was surprisingly quiet.

"Any idea what this is about?" asked Sanderson.

"None. Have you found out any info on what we talked about before?"

"A little. Seems like a sniper who worked as a loner was responsible. If he's out, I'd say he's brought his show back home."

"Did you get an ID on him?"

With a frown, Sanderson answered, "No. I've had my people working on it, but it appears that records on this particular individual have been erased. Quite thoroughly, I might add. I can't get a name, a photo, not anything. I've got people over in the Middle East asking questions, but they aren't getting anywhere either. It's all very strange. The military is cooperating, barely, but they aren't going out of their way to help either — a code-of-silence thing."

Right then, President Lamar entered the room, with everybody rising to their feet.

"Please be seated," he instructed. "I want you all up to speed on information that was given to me a short while ago. The CDC is in possession of what they say is the toxin that was used in the Alaska incident. Director Lang has assured me of this. What we don't know is who was responsible for manufacturing it. Therefore, we need to continue our efforts in finding this individual before he can make more. I am not going to answer questions on how the CDC found it; at the moment, that is not important. Finding the individuals behind the assassination of President Williams and the individual for this toxic agent is — along with our other responsibilities, of course. I applaud the efforts of the CDC, as should you all. Let's get back to work." The president turned and left the room.

Everyone in the room was stunned, especially Bernard Backersley of the CIA. How in the hell?

Styles and Starr were up front in the cockpit of the jet, headed for Baltimore and talking with Christman. Styles left the group and walked rearward.

"Care to join us up front?" Styles asked Phillips.

"Be right there." Thirty seconds later, she joined the three men in the cockpit of their jet.

"Okay, guys, here's the deal. I think I made a mistake that may leave a door ajar for someone to find me, which would lead to us. I thought this could wait, but now I'm not so sure," Styles asserted.

"I vote we go dark," stated Christman emphatically.

"So do I," agreed Starr.

"I need to see my mother, but you know where I stand," offered Phillips.

"You guys know what this means, right? We lose contact with everyone we know, probably for the rest of our lives. We'd lose pensions, medical benefits, the whole deal."

"Unless they agree to go dark with us," interjected Phillips.

Styles looked at her. "You sure you can do that?"

"I could create our own little witness protection program: my mother, your father, and anyone else Starr or J. C. might want to bring along."

"No one on my end," Starr said flatly.

Christman was thoughtful for a few moments. "There's someone I need to speak with, but after that, no."

"I need to speak with my dad," asserted Styles. "I'm sorry to spring this on you like this, but we can't afford to take chances. Phillips, you said you could make us disappear? Make us disappear. Start ASAP."

"As you know, I already started with you. I've already deleted everything from military records to social security. People who know you will just wonder what happened. The smart ones might guess, but it won't matter; they won't find us."

"For what it's worth, I wish it hadn't come to this," Styles said in an almost apologetic tone.

Starr looked at him and declared, "We agreed to wage this war. If this is where it takes us, then this is where we all decided to go. As the three musketeers said—"

"Not to keep being repetitive, but you three have thought this through carefully and understand just how it will affect us, right?"

"Marv, chill. We know. We three have talked about it. We're in with no regrets," Starr affirmed.

"J. C., how fast can you get me to Sarasota?" Styles questioned.

"From here, hour and ten minutes, give or take."

"Do it. Thanks." He retreated to the rear of the plane and called his father.

"Hi, Dad, it's me. I need you to meet me at the Sarasota-Bradenton airport in about an hour and fifteen minutes. It's critical. Sorry for the short notice, but it's necessary." After a short pause, Styles replied, "Yeah, meet me in the main bar. If you get there first, grab a table off to the side. Keep this to yourself. See you soon."

Phillips called him over to her workstation and motioned for Starr to join them. "I've been working on the video of the yacht I've been watching. I went back over it with the same program that I used on the Alaska lake video — you know, the one that was able to distinguish heat signatures? Something interesting happened the night before the attack. Watch this." She played the program on the large LED screen. It showed three orange figures very close to one another. After a few moments, one of them seemed to break away from the other two, and then the color of the object dimmed before disappearing altogether.

Starr asked, "What do you make of that?"

Styles answered, "Well, something eliminated that third heat source."

"Correct," agreed Phillips. "I've watched it about ten times, and with the hour involved, three fifteen in the morning, I think that two people threw a third overboard, and sinking in the water caused the loss of the heat signature. It's only a guess, but it's an educated guess based on a theory I came up with. For argument's sake, let's say that is the boat, which I think it is, that picked up the diver that killed President Williams. If the boat is registered outside of this country, at some point it would have had to go through customs. There would be a record of everyone on board. Now all of a sudden there is an extra person. If the boat is rechecked, how would they explain that? The answer is to keep the number the same, which involves eliminating one, thus tossing somebody into the water. It would be easy enough to just switch the photograph on the paperwork. If they're checked now, everything matches."

Styles whistled softly. "That's a hell of a deduction, Darlene. It explains a lot, answers a lot of questions. I think you've hit it."

"I think you're right. It makes good common, logical sense," Starr inserted.

"As soon as I'm done talking to my father, we'll head for Baltimore and come up with a plan," Styles added.

"Hey, guys, we're about twenty minutes out of Sarasota!" J. C. hollered back at them.