Perfect killer

CHAPTER 75

Early dawn caught us driving along County Line Road. All peach, pastel, and bright, the sun shimmered off the lazy waters of the Ross Barnett Reservoir as we crested the top of the levee west of the main spillway gates. The vast thirty-three-thousand acre man-made lake created by damming the Pearl River north of Jackson was constructed as a flood-control project but turned out to be a major recreational attraction for boater waterskiers, anglers, and duck hunters.

The brilliant morning sun helped chase the fuzziness from my head. Rex stopped at the sign atop the levee and turned left.

"We're headed up in the trees northeast of the Yacht Club," Rex said as he accelerated past a waterside restaurant. "The house owner's a rich guy from Meridian who throws wild parties for legislators and bureaucrats when he needs a vote or some quick action. It's off a private road and out of sight and earshot of neighbors.

"They beat the place up pretty badly during the last party and I got the contract to redo the drywall. I don't reckon we'll see anybody there for a while."

It seemed that no matter what needed doing, Rex had discreet ways to accomplish it. He was the ultimate good-hearted bad boy, and I was thankful to call him friend.*****

Frank Harper grew visibly fatigued as his story approached the present. He spoke continuously, stopping once to make more coffee and pausing only to spell a name, a word, or to let Dan Gabriel catch up with his notes.

"I was thrilled at first," Harper had begun. "Suddenly I had the blessings of the Army and the resources of the U.S. government behind my quest to look inside the heads of human beings and look for the thing which really separates us from the rest of God's creatures. I didn't pay attention to the fabric of deceit being woven around me."

Harper studied the empty bottom of his mug. "Now, the direct result of my life's efforts means the military will begin widespread deployment of Xantaeus next week, disguised as transdermal patches for vitamins and micronutrients."

"But I thought- In the briefing, Wim Baaker said Xantaeus would be deployed in the next year or two," Gabriel stuttered.

"Baaker doesn't know the whole story. The president does not know, and maybe three people at the Pentagon are truly aware."

"What about the adverse side effects?"

"Like I mentioned, about one percent of the people taking the drug never fully recover."

"That would produce thousands of dangerous killers."

"Completely psychopathic killers," Harper said. "People with no compunction about killing, but with the ability to appear normal and above suspicion."

"Like General Braxton."

"Like General Braxton," Harper agreed. "At least most of the time. Xantaeus'll ship next week, and you must stop it."

Suddenly the kitchen of Frank Harper's modest California ranch house erupted with a riot of noise and armed men clothed in black from their boots to balaclavas. Gabriel identified the men as the former Special Forces personnel who formed the core of the Defense Therapeutics security team and knew resistance would be foolish. He allowed himself to be handcuffed and led into the garage. One of the black-clad men opened the garage door, revealing the back of a medium-sized U-Haul truck.