The Panic Zone

67

New York City

Gretchen Sutsoff rose before the sun.

She was rested and ready.

Little Will was sleeping soundly.

Still in her nightdress, Sutsoff went to her laptop computer.

Drake Stinson had betrayed her. She knew that he was now somewhere in the Middle East trying to broker a deal with what he thought was an antidote to Pariah Variant 1.

As she started entering the activation codes for him, she did the same for the other members of her inner circle-General Dimitri, Downey, Goran, Reich and especially Ibrahim Jehaimi for violating her trust.

Before they’d joined her in the toast in Benghazi, she’d worked a veterinarian’s hypodermic needle through the wine cork and injected enough lethal agent-a special prolonged-acting version-for all of them.

She took care of Jehaimi with a little gift of sweets later.

Now it was time to tidy things up.

It took five full minutes to complete the activation process, which ended when she tapped the enter key. Wherever they were in the world, they’d just taken their final breaths.

Goodbye.

She’d erased them.

Done.

Sutsoff was hungry.

She showered, then ordered a breakfast of poached eggs and English tea to her room. While the baby slept, she ate quietly and watched the new day break over Manhattan.

When she finished, she switched on the TV to watch the morning news programs. The weather called for a clear day in the low seventies.

Pictures of herself appeared on the TV screen.

A news crawler under the images said the FBI was searching for a former CIA scientist wanted in connection with murder, a conspiracy to commit an act of terrorism and theft of government property. No mention of a target or method of operation. Do they know? The news report showed footage of CIA headquarters, Fort Detrick, the resort on Paradise Island, a cruise ship and the face of the passenger from Indiana.

Sutsoff was calm.

She no longer looked like the wanted fugitive-Botox, body padding and a wig had taken care of that. She was Mary Anne Conrad, traveling with her grandson Will.

Her work would continue. She was only a few hours away from full activation. This just makes things interesting, she thought, as the baby woke and started to fuss.

Sutsoff changed him.

Then she unscrewed her float pen and mixed the clear liquid from the barrel into his breakfast: fruit, toast and juice from room service.

There we go.

As the baby ate, she checked on progress through her various e-mail accounts. She was disappointed to learn that only a handful of families were now in place in New York hotels.

She returned to the TV news, which was now showing preparations for the gathering in Central Park. The event would start later that morning. Over one million participants were expected for the full slate of music and addresses from global celebrities, including the president.

“Over a million people-my, isn’t that perfect?” She smiled at the baby. “It’s more than perfect. It’s beautiful.”

Sutsoff noticed a new e-mail.

One of the couples was having trouble. They’d lost their floater pen. They were at the Tellwood, only four blocks away. Sutsoff had prepared extra pens.

She typed an e-mail to them.

“All finished eating, Will? Let’s take a little walk before we head to the park.”

She got him dressed, collected her laptop and some other things in a bag and loaded her stroller. Before she left, she took some more medication.

Nothing would stop her now.