The Janus Reprisal

33

Russell woke up and felt danger. Her nerve endings prickled with it. The hospital room remained dark and the sounds of the city were muted. She shifted and was heartened to note that she felt slightly better, but the feeling of menace was palpable. She glanced around the room, but nothing seemed out of place. The tray holding the cup with the ice cubes remained by her bed, the IV needle still dug into her hand, and the faucet at the bathroom sink still dripped.

She reached out to the cup and shook an ice chip into her mouth. That’s when she heard it. A footfall. Stealthy. In the hall.

“Sir, who are you? This is an isolation floor.” The nurse’s voice rang out. Russell didn’t think. She pulled the needle out of her hand, wincing at the welling blood, flung the bedclothes away and rolled off the bed on the side away from the door. What she didn’t count on was that her legs wouldn’t support her. They collapsed and she hit the linoleum, hard. She lay flat and shifted under the bed. Not hard to do as the bed frame was elevated two feet off the floor. If it wasn’t dark in the room, any intruder would easily have seen her.

A pair of men’s wingtips appeared in the doorway and took one step into the room. Russell held her breath, waiting.

“Sir,” she heard the nurse say again, this time close. Russell watched the shoes turn as the intruder walked out. He paused in the entrance before carefully stepping left, out of Russell’s vision. Russell put her cheek against the linoleum and rested there. She didn’t think she had the energy to move just yet.

She heard the man’s shoes as he went down the hall and the murmuring of voices. After a moment the floor went silent once again. The muted sounds of the city and the dripping bathroom sink returned to her consciousness. There was a pinging sound as the elevator doors opened.

Russell saw a pair of feet encased in women’s running shoes step into the entrance.

“Ms. Russell?” Wendel said. Russell was relieved to hear her voice.

“Under here,” Russell replied. Wendel crouched down and peered under the bed. She wore a mask on her face to filter out bacteria. Russell inhaled deeply and almost instantly regretted it. The floor stank of antiseptic and dust.

“What are you doing under there?” Wendel said.

Russell rolled back the other way and sat up. Her eyes started to go black and dots appeared. She felt rather than saw Wendel brace her.

“I heard someone lurking outside the room and dropped and rolled to hide. Instinct, I guess. Why are you here?” Russell said.

“Thank God for your instincts. We need to get out of here. Now,” Wendel said.

“What’s the matter?”

“Your friend Marty says that the CIA mole is feeding information on Smith and Nolan to a prepaid phone that he then tracked here. He called me at the New York office, and I rushed over as soon as he did.”

Russell wished she could have seen the face of the owner of the wingtips. When she found out who the mole was, she was going to ensure that he or she never saw the outside of a prison again.

“Please go talk to the nurse. Get a description of the man in wingtips. See if he signed in on the floor.”

Wendel nodded. “Can you sit without my help?”

Russell leaned back against the bed frame. “Yes.” Wendel left. After a couple of minutes, she was back.

“There is no nurse. And the last person who signed in was over four hours ago.”

“There was a nurse only a few minutes ago. She confronted the man.”

“Well, there’s no one now. Perhaps she went to the coffee room or to get something.”

Or perhaps the man silenced her. Russell shook off the thought. There would be no reason to bother with the nurse. The man hadn’t signed in, and the hospital didn’t have cameras on the floor. He wouldn’t be at risk of discovery.

“What does Marty have to say about the time delay?”

“The proprietary system is absolutely being tampered with from the inside. He also says that the mole may be onto the fact that you’re suspicious because he tried to counter some of Marty’s probes.” Wendel waved a hand in the air. “I don’t understand the details, but Marty was using your passcode to gain inside access and another person started cyberstalking him.” Wendel inhaled. “And that’s not all.” Russell’s eyes cleared and she was heartened to notice that she felt better once sitting.

“There’s more?” Russell said.

Wendel nodded. “Your tests came back positive for a respiratory virus related to the avian strain.” Russell hated that, but felt a resignation flow over her.

“I can’t say that I’m surprised. Can this one be treated?”

Wendel shook her head.

“What’s the fatality rate?”

Wendel clamped her lips shut.

“That good, huh?” Russell said. “How contagious am I?”

“It’s not easily transmitted human-to-human, but if it is, they say two to five days, depending on the person. Your doctor seems to think that you’re no longer contagious.”

Russell sighed. “How long have I been here?”

“Thirty-six hours.”

“You should leave.”

Wendel shook her head. “I’m not worried about catching it.”

“You should be. The doctor could be wrong. Especially if I have the mutated version.”

“You don’t.”

Russell paused. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t. It’s a variant, but not mutated.”

Russell almost sagged in relief. Misplaced relief, she knew, because traditional bird flu was deadly enough, but she would have felt worse if she knew that she had been Patient Number One for a deadly mutated virus.

“I think it has something to do with Dattar. All of it. I think he had someone infect you. Maybe this mole,” Wendel said.

Russell nodded. Wendel had finally put into words what Russell had feared since the moment she became ill. She gave a weak wave in the general direction of the metal locker across the room that acted as a closet.

“I’ll need my clothes and phone.”

Wendel nodded and glanced at her watch. “If the night nurse had been here, she would be scheduled to take a fifteen-minute break in two minutes. The second nurse will begin her rounds at the same time. That will last twenty and the main desk will be empty.” She left Russell’s line of sight. Seconds later Russell heard the locker door creak open. She clutched the top of the mattress and used it to pull herself upright, turned and sat on the edge of the bed. Wendel handed her the phone and placed the clothes next to her. Russell reached for them, but the idea of putting them on felt overwhelming.

“Can you help? I’m ridiculously weak.”

Wendel braced her as she dressed.

“Are there any medications you want to bring?” Wendel asked.

“They’ve had me on a saline drip. Nothing else.”

Wendel looked at her watch. “Wait here.” She went to the doorway and peered around the corner. She spun and came back to Russell. “It’s clear.” Russell wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I don’t think the elevators are safe. They all open onto the main floor facing a security station on the lower level.”

“There’s a stairwell to the left. I’m not sure where it leads,” Russell said. Wendel only nodded and helped Russell to stand. Her legs held and they started toward the door, moving in tandem. Russell leaned on Wendel, taking advantage of her strength. She didn’t want to waste all her energy walking on her own when she knew a long series of stairs still lay ahead of her. The only sound in the empty hall was the murmuring of a television, volume set low, somewhere to her right. To her left an overhead sign glowed red with the word “stairs.” Russell turned that way and was glad to feel the adrenaline begin to percolate in her system. It gave her a boost. They hit the door and pushed it open.

The interior stairwell consisted of metal and cement. The door closed and Russell saw the number four painted in navy block lettering on the back. The idea of walking down four flights made Russell want to groan, but she shoved the thought aside. She was about to start down when she heard a scrape from somewhere below. Wendel must have heard it too, because Russell felt the woman’s muscles freeze. Russell jerked her head toward the door. Wendel nodded, and they reversed. Russell opened the door with a gentle push and they were back through it and once again in the ICU hallway.

“Elevator to second floor. Stairs from there,” Russell said in a whisper. Wendel didn’t reply but started to the elevator bank. Russell pushed faster. Once inside the lift she leaned against the wall while it lowered to the second floor.

“If there’s a nurse let me take the lead,” Russell said. She waved Wendel off in favor of walking on her own. The doors whisked open and they stepped into a hall that matched the one they’d just left. Rooms stretched on either side and a nurse stood behind a tall counter operating a copy machine. She glanced up, took in Wendel and gave a slight frown when she looked at Russell.

“May I help you?” she said.

Russell nodded. “I’m a patient. I have a friend who wants to see Susan.” Russell indicated Wendel. “But she leaves for Europe tomorrow early and this is our only chance. It’s just down the hall, room 234. Do you mind?”

The nurse looked about to protest. “Mr. Skorich? He’s asleep.”

“I’ll just have a quick look. I promise to leave if he’s asleep,” Wendel said. A phone on a nearby desk rang. Hallelujah, Russell thought.

“Please be quick about it,” the nurse said. “The time for visitors is long past.” She turned her attention to the phone. Russell did her best to stand straight and tall as she walked down the hall. Her eyes locked on the sign for the stairs and she focused on reaching them. Wendel stayed close and pushed open the door, holding it for Russell. The minute they were through Russell wrapped her arm around Wendel’s shoulder.

“Go,” she said.

They started down, moving fast. Their feet rang on the metal stairs and the sound echoed through the stairwell. Within seconds they heard another set of footsteps running down the stairs from above.

“Faster,” Russell said. She was sweating and she began to get dizzy. “Do you have a weapon?”

“A knife. At my calf.” Not the worst weapon, and it had the advantage of silence, but if whoever was lurking in the stairwell was CIA, he’d likely have a gun with a suppressor. A quiet and efficient weapon. They reached the bottom and pushed through the door to the parking garage. A sedan that Russell recognized as a company car sat parked in a handicapped spot.

“It’s mine. Let’s go,” Wendel said. Russell got up and staggered a bit toward the driver’s side, but she made it there without passing out. She glanced at the parking garage exit. So far, no one burst through. Hauling open the car’s heavy door was about as much as Russell could manage.

“There are guns are in the trunk,” Wendel said.

“Excellent. Run. Get out of here. Go back to DC. I’ll handle this and will call you. I don’t want you involved in this any more than necessary.”

Wendel nodded and sprinted away. Russell fell into the seat and slammed the door behind her. She drove out of the parking garage and onto the street, where she accelerated at every opportunity, all the while watching the sideview mirror. While it appeared as though no one was tailing her, she wasn’t reassured. She picked up her phone and stared at it, wondering if she should risk using it. After a moment she decided that she needed Klein’s help badly enough to give it a try. Russell powered it up and dialed Klein. The Covert-One director answered on the first ring.

“We’ve got a mole in the CIA,” Russell said.

“A situation that appears to be depressingly familiar, Ms. Russell.”

“Whoever it is, they’re after Smith and Nolan and transmitting their location to an unknown assailant. Dattar is in this up to his eyeballs, I can just feel it. And you can bet that he has those coolers. Smith was right.”

“That’s a lot of speculation. But if even a portion is correct, the CIA can’t be allowed to take the lead on the search for them. The mole could undermine each move.”

“What if they’re here? On US soil? The CIA has no jurisdiction over the investigation then. It has to go to the Department of Homeland Security and FBI. CIA, and its mole, won’t know about it.”

“You’ve been overseas for a while. The DHS and FBI are now supposed to receive and exchange intelligence with the CIA when it’s required to assist in a national matter.”

“Okay, and then the NYPD is out as well. Since 9/11, the NYPD has deployed an intelligence-gathering unit. Its head is a CIA officer on loan named Harcourt. I presume he’ll be kept in the loop with the other agencies.”

“Are you telling me that the CIA and NYPD are acting in concert on US soil?”

“I am,” Russell said.

“That’s perilously close to domestic spying, which is illegal,” Klein said.

“And Covert-One? What are the rules between that organization and the others?”

Klein paused. Russell waited.

“Covert-One is autonomous.” Klein’s comment supported what Russell had thought since learning of Covert-One. The idea that Klein headed a covert operation completely free of organizational requirements and reporting duties was astonishing. However, it was just what Russell wanted to hear because she needed to operate free of the CIA.

“I want to bring in Beckmann,” she said.

“No others.”

“Hear me out. With Beckmann, Howell, and Smith all bases are covered. I know about the inner workings of the CIA, Smith knows about bacteria, Howell knows about staying alive.”

“And this Beckmann?”

“Beckmann knows how to skirt the edges and get results.”

Klein was quiet on the other end of the line, and Russell bit her tongue while she allowed him to ponder her request.

“I haven’t met this Beckmann, but Smith has. If he agrees, then Beckmann can be brought in. If not, he can’t.”

Russell breathed a sigh of relief. She was halfway home with her plan.

“I’ll be sure to keep Smith informed. If he says no, then Beckmann’s out, no questions asked.” She took a deep breath. “I was hoping for one more favor.”

“What do you need?”

“A steady stream of information from the DHS and the FBI in real time, not in weekly reports. Whatever they know I want access to.”

“Easy enough.”

Russell raised her eyebrows. The DHS and the FBI both weren’t exactly forthcoming with the CIA despite their public claims of cooperation. The disconnects between the two agencies were legendary. That Klein could wrap up the disparate reports was a huge advantage to Covert-One.

“Just how connected is Covert-One? What you’re able to accomplish is astonishing.”

“Do you need anything else?” Klein neatly dodged the question.

“To find Smith. Do you know where he is?”

“He’s gone dark. I have little doubt that he is alive, however. A recent police transmission indicated that they had discovered one man dead in a building near the High Line. It wasn’t Smith.”

Russell didn’t bother to ask why Klein was focusing on one dead person in one particular building in New York City. She assumed that he had his reasons.

“And Nolan?”

“Presumably with Smith.”

“And not dead.”

“Not yet.”

“That’s ominous.”

“She’s at most risk. A civilian with the bad judgment to have stolen from Dattar. Her continued existence is not assured.”

Russell started coughing. She knew that once she started, it would be almost impossible to stop. She gagged and choked while Klein listened on the other end of the phone.

“Are you all right?” Klein said.

“I think whatever is in those coolers was used on me.”

“How contagious is it?”

“Apparently no one’s entirely sure. It doesn’t seem to be easily transmitted between people, but they don’t know how it’s contracted. I need a place to rest and I want to speak to a scientist named Ohnara again. He said he’d be here, in New York, for a conference. In Midtown. Which reminds me, I need one more thing. Ohnara’s a colleague of Smith’s who checked into a suspicious swab on my refrigerator. I think he needs to run further tests.”

“I presume they will be costly?”

“Perhaps. The paperwork I’ll need to fill out at the CIA would take several days and possibly tip off our mole. I was hoping you could speed things through for me. I guess I don’t need to say that I have a vested interest in this. I’m told my chances of beating this thing aren’t great.”

“I’ll authorize it as quickly as possible. Are you armed?”

“I have some CIA-issued weapons,” Russell said. “Why?”

“Something tells me you’re going to need them.”