Unacceptable Risk

Chapter 24

Sam turned on the sat phone every thirty minutes on the half hour when he could. This time he got an immediate incoming call.

"What's happening?"

"We got her. She's alive and awake. The vector is to be delivered in cement trucks and helicopters. The FBI found more helicopters painted like state police choppers and fitted with atomizers. A lot more. They've arrested some pilots. Now they're going after the cement trucks."

"Good."

"Benoit also gave us a way into Gaudet's server. Grogg's working on it. He's gotta get around the government guys."

"I'm gonna cover us the best I can. Tell him to call me when he gets it figured. If I'm unavailable, then release the antivirus."

"The government has forbidden us."

"I've cleared it with the vice president and the head of the FBI."

"Is that true?"

"For you it's true. Do what I say."

Thankfully, Jill didn't argue.

Next Sam did call the office of the director of the FBI and spoke to an assistant director with connections to Homeland Security.

"I need something."

"Go ahead."

"If I do something brilliant that works, I want you to say that the director gave his approval. Likewise, Homeland Security."

"Take credit for something brilliant that's already worked? What are we talking about?"

"Saving the free markets."

"This is the antivirus for the Internet, isn't it?"

Sam said nothing.

"We'll look into it. You got that?"

"Got it."

That meant they would more than likely do it. They wouldn't call him back or discuss it further.

With that business done, he turned his attention to the mountain. It was nearly dark and snowing hard. Fortunately, the wind had picked up and it was creating a blizzard. The hunters would try to bed down or get under cover, probably under the big trees. Now was the time to start back up the hill. Without a light he crept along, weaving back and forth across the ridge. Most of them would be just below the ridge on the leeward side-all but Gaudet, who would see the mistake in doing the obvious. Sam was certain they had n't made it to the chasm; they would still believe that the task was to climb and to catch the group high on the moun tain.

Sam kept low to the ground and moved at a snail's pace. In the dark and these conditions he would have to feel whoever was ahead. Then he saw the first fire. It surprised him. Yes, it was bitter cold on the mountain and these men weren't up to the elements. But to lose the advantage of surprise? He could smell the overconfidence.

As Sam crept to within thirty feet, he tried to figure how he might take out all five men around it without being shot. They sat close to their guns and looked jumpy.

Sam settled down and waited, the cold penetrating his clothes, making him miserable. First his ears started to ache; then things started tingling like they were going to sleep. A bit of a snowbank began building next to a log and he tried crawling into it and under the log for some insulation. Under the log he found moss and leaves and packed it in his cloth ing. It helped to insulate and cut the cold further. The part of him that was in the snowbank was 32 degrees Fahrenheit outside of his clothing. Inside his clothing, with the leaves and moss, it was considerably warmer. The part of him that was outside the snow was subject to windchill and below-freezing temperatures, so he did all he could to get himself covered in the white powder. After an hour the men near the fire were nodding off, but they frequently stirred because of the bitter cold and the need to throw on more wood. One man had his back near the fire and he appeared to be in a deep sleep.

Shooting all five didn't appeal to Sam. Carefully he searched the ground beneath him, digging down with his fingers and a large skinning knife. The ground was very hard, frozen, and without the heavy knife it would have been nearly impossible. After twenty minutes he had located ten small stones. Waiting until they all appeared asleep, he came out from his shelter and belly-crawled near the fire. He went to the man farthest from the fire, whose gun leaned against a log. Reaching carefully, he slowly picked it up. Moving back into the shadows, he pushed the barrel into the icy snow and plugged it. For certainty he poked in a rock. Then he returned it to the log, just as it had been. After waiting a moment and satisfying himself that they all still slept, he crawled to a sec ond man whose gun was leaning against his leg. This was more tricky. He removed three small stones from his pocket and put them quietly down the barrel. With the third man, who had his hand wrapped around his gun, he did the same. Getting to the other two men was too dangerous, but perhaps the problem would solve itself.

On his hip he had the large skinning knife, which he once again removed from its sheath. Its blade was still razor sharp. Two of the men lay with their feet within a foot of one another. Very quickly he lifted the first boot and sliced clean through the leather and into the Achilles tendon. There was a split-second reaction time and, with the first scream, he had cut the second man as well and then leaped back behind the log.

Three guns literally exploded in rapid succession. The men farthest up the hill hadn't fired. The other three were wounded from metal fragments. The men who were cut were yelling and so were the wounded. It was pandemonium.

"Stand with your hands up," Sam shouted.

The two men with unfired guns hesitated but didn't seem interested in testing their weapons.

"I can't stand," one of the men said. He had been cut.

"You can stand if you wanna live," Sam said. "Step away from the fire. Hands behind your head and kneel."

They did as they were told, even the men with the bleed ing heels.

Sam kicked snow over the fire.

"Take off your coats."

"We can't survive without coats."

"You won't survive with them because I'll shoot you."

"We are French diplomats. We have diplomatic immu nity." The man had a Spanish accent.

"Take off your coats, run down the mountain, and call your embassy."

Sam collected the two functional weapons, the coats, and all the radios.

Suddenly there was a huge roar down the river canyon and Sam knew the upper dam was gone, with the lower dam soon to follow.

"Take off. If you hurry, you might make it to the landing where the cabins were and start a fire and stave off frostbite. If you don't get a fire going down there, you'll lose body parts from the cold. Don't forget matches." One of the men fumbled through a pack. "Now go!"

Without waiting they hurried down the mountain, the un injured helping the injured.

Sam got on the radio.

"Mr. Gaudet. Do you hear me?"

"I hear you. What do you want?"

"Same thing you do, only it's you I want to kill and not me. But I'll make you a deal. If you want to live in a prison, you can surrender yourself. Call off Cordyceps. It's failed anyway. I'll turn you in to a country that doesn't allow capital punishment."

"We can make a different deal."

"Oh yeah?"

"I will trade you Benoit Moreau and the girl you call Grady for Raval."

"Good luck, chum. Benoit's safe in a Manhattan hospital and Grady's back at the office."

"Grady is on this mountain."

"Five of your guys are headed back down. They're discouraged. Your plan is falling apart. FBI's all over the helicopters and cement trucks. Your underworld investors are gonna be pissed off. They'll hunt you harder than I can. Hell, I'll give you to them."

"You aren't listening. Do you want Grady back alive?"

"You've been whupped by Benoit Moreau, and you don't even know it yet."

Gaudet had no response for that.

"You've defrauded the French government. You. Not Benoit Moreau. Did you read the fine print in those papers you signed?"

Again, no response, but Sam heard Gaudet's breathing.

"You screwed your investors and the French. You're done, Gaudet. Fish food."

"No," Gaudet said simply. The line went dead.

"Hey," Sam spoke into the radio, changing from channel to channel. "The rest of you on the mountain should know your boss is losing it. Gonna be a Tilok war party up here and we'll be taking scalps. Go ahead, stick around. We've done five; we can do more."

On one channel Sam heard calls go out to the five men he had neutralized. The calls got no response.

"Told you. They're running down the mountain without scalps. Bad deal."

"Stay in your places." It was Gaudet again. "I have Sam's woman."

"Sam…" It was Grady. She was crying.

Sam ran through the dark, paying little heed to the noise of his movement.

It took only a few minutes to get down to the Y, where he and the others had split up. There were the tracks of many men, even though the bulk had gone up the mountain on his trail. Even as he went, he knew he should call in, so he forced himself to stop.

"What's happening?" he said to Jill.

"Thank God you called. Grogg got into Gaudet's com puter and got the virus file. His antivirus, with a little tweak ing, will probably do the trick."

"Release it."

"Against the government's orders?"

"I told you I spoke with the director of the FBI. And the vice president. They know, so just release it."

"You got it. Benoit's doing well, but she's desperate to know about Raval."

"I think he's fine, but somehow Gaudet has Grady."

"Oh no. No. No."

"I'm sorry. I'm going after them."

He signed off and resumed his run. To improve his progress he popped on the light. At this point he didn't care about the risk. He scampered over the rocks, banging his shins occasionally, but managing most of the time. Finally he was out of the creek and on a tiny, steep trail. It was the trail to the high mountain meadows, where the berries were thick in summer. Damn it. He should have known Gaudet would take the other trail.

Ahead he heard a laugh-an incongruous sound if there ever were one. Light from a campfire followed, and Sam shut his own light off. Slowly he crept forward. Soon he saw the fire and a big canvas lean-to. They had Grady tied spread-eagled on two poles that formed an X. She was close to the fire, nearly close enough to burn. Although she still had on her panties and bra, it was easy to see what was com ing. Below her, also tied, sat Michael Bowden. The wound in his leg had reopened and bled freely. That explained how they were able to catch him in a forest. Fortunately, they didn't seem to have Raval. There were six men, all armed, all look ing around, but all clearly distracted by Grady.

Gaudet was nowhere to be seen. Sam guessed that Grady and the men were bait. Nearby Gaudet would wait with more men. Sam moved back in the forest, blocking from his mind what was going on with Grady. He moved inches at a time, slowly circling the fire and the men. Soon they would begin the torture and the rape.

He had to focus.

Gaudet would be sick with anger and even fear. For a few minutes in this forest Gaudet might be on top, but in the larger scheme his world was crumbling.

Sam's radio crackled. Quickly he dialed down the volume and hunkered down to listen.

"I just wanted you to know that there are also boats along the Manhattan waterfront. Just about now they are releasing the vector." Gaudet paused, breathing heavily. "My investors will be fine."

Sam had to call Jill. That's what Gaudet would be count ing on-to slow him down, maybe to give himself away. Sam walked deeper into the forest.

Grady screamed and it nearly undid him inside.

"Jill," he whispered. "There may be boats along the Manhattan waterfront. That's from Gaudet; he could be full of it. Pass it on to Ernie."

"Okay. They've cleared people away from the waterfront just in case."

Ernie was a smart guy.

Sam wanted to call Gaudet and get in his face about the boats, but he knew it wouldn't help. Slowly he made his way back near the fire and began again to circle. If he touched branches, there would be a dusting of snow that would fall. The wind was his ally, for it too moved the bushes and made it difficult to discern what might be coming or going. After another thirty or more paces he saw a dark spot standing out against the forest hues. Grady screamed again. He could feel her anguish in his bones, but he couldn't see what they were doing to her. Tears were running down his cheeks and he wanted to kill like never before.

He waited. For a minute nothing moved. He took another step. Then he saw it. The dark spot moved. Then another moved, and another. Soon he could make out people facing the fire. From their vantage point they could see what was happen ing to Grady. He could not. Grady screamed again in pure agony. They watched the torture like cows watch a hay truck. "Put her down on the ground," someone near the fire said. Sam heard himself groan.

"You bastard," he muttered. "You miserable piece of shit."

Flipping the M-4 on automatic, he leveled it at the men hiding in the forest. Without caring who saw him, he walked forward. Grady screamed. His angle ensured his gunfire wouldn't hit the campfire area. He pulled the trigger. Shadows moved, men screamed; he marched on, spewing death. Five or more were down. A new shadow jumped into the forest. Without hesitation he sprinted, crashing through the snowy bushes. A massive-caliber gun roared behind him. Yodo must have shown up. The forest filled with thunder from all sides, but Sam kept after the one. He stopped. Everything was black. Then he heard something running through the trees. Without thought he ran and flicked on his headlamp. A head moving through six-foot huckleberry electrified him. He knew it was Gaudet.

Sprinting, he tried to hold the beam of light on the target. He filled his lungs and ran with huge strides. Then he was on him and grabbed him by the neck, pulling him down. Sam let out a guttural cry and Gaudet turned. They clawed at each other in wild combat. His teeth snapped at Sam's head, even as his knees churned, trying to find the groin.

Sam's light wobbled crazily, filling the forest with a weird shadowy half-light. He swung with an uppercut, connecting to the ribs. Gaudet growled and gouged at Sam's eyes and face, ripping the skin off his cheeks and bruising his eyes. For once, Sam fought not with deliberation but with rage. He clawed back at Gaudet and grabbed his throat. In turn, Gaudet's hands clamped on Sam's throat and they were staring into each other's eyes.

As they squeezed one another for death, Sam's years of training took over. He released Gaudet's neck and brought his joined hands up under Gaudet's chin with a fierce strike, breaking Gaudet's hold. Sam used a palm to splinter Gaudet's nose, which sprayed blood and had him wobbling. He threw an elbow into the floating ribs, intent on piercing a lung.

Gaudet fought like a man possessed, hitting Sam in the head and body, fighting back only to be pounded in the solar plexus.

The blow crumpled Gaudet, but before Sam could move in, Gaudet managed to rise and free his knife. Blood ran down his face, covering him, but Sam saw life in his eyes as he held the knife in front of him expertly.

Sam waited. Gaudet lunged but missed. Once again Sam waited, and Gaudet jabbed, nicking Sam's arm. With light ning speed Sam grabbed the knife hand at the wrist and struck the back of the elbow with an open hand, breaking it clean. Gaudet screamed and Sam took out a knee. He threw the knife into the trees. Gaudet crawled on the ground like a cornered animal.

"Hold it." It was Figgy. A light shone from his hand. "I'm afraid I need to take him for the French government."

"I don't think so, Figgy."

"I'm taking Raval too. The French got screwed in this deal."

Sam shook his head at the audacity of the allegation.

"You and Baptiste and Admiral Larive, and nobody else, screwed the French government and the Free World. You were going to let Cordyceps happen and reap the profits. This isn't about governments. It's about a few crooks. I'll prove that."

"No. I don't think you will." Just before Figgy shot, Sam leaped at him. Figgy shot probably at the head but missed. The second shot hit the Kevlar vest dead center. Sam slapped away the gun, which tumbled into the darkness. Gaudet and Figgy came at him at once, both desperate. Sam went for the uninjured Figgy first. A kick to the knee con nected. Then both men were on Sam, trying to take him down. They hit the ground in a tangle, fighting like animals, tearing, biting, going for anything vital.

Sam struggled to roll free of the melee. Somebody had a hand on his throat. He didn't have long. Sam found a throat, grabbed the Adam's apple, and pulled with all his strength. Someone gasped, and the hand on his throat loosened. He punched blindly where the throat had been and connected with a face. Lifting his right leg over Gaudet, he caught his head and squeezed with a scissor lock. Gaudet bit into his thigh, and it became a contest of pain and endurance. Sam yanked on Gaudet's neck once, then twice, then clamped down viselike once more. At last, like a dying dog, Gaudet let go with his teeth and sank back.

Figgy was still choking. He didn't seem to have any fight left.

"Think about the upcoming throat surgery. It'll be a bitch."

The gunfire on the mountain had long since ceased. Sam shouted for Yodo, got up, and found his emptied M-4. Then he slapped Gaudet awake, yanked him up on his crippled leg, and did the same for Figgy, who couldn't stop choking. Carefully Sam checked Gaudet for weapons.

"So, you take me down. I got thousands or millions of your fellow citizens. I'm going to an American jail until the appeals run out."

"Would you like to hear the bad news?"

It took hours to get everybody that hadn't escaped back to the cabin site that was now covered with snow-frosted debris from the torrent. Both cabins were obliterated. Yodo and three men were left, plus Raval, Michael, Sam, and Grady. Raval, who had managed to escape into the woods, had taken up arms during the firefight. Grady was okay, but for a couple of nasty burns on her thigh and a badly bruised breast. Gaudet was a mess, his face swollen nearly beyond recognition, one broken elbow, a broken knee, and a badly sprained ankle. Figgy could n't eat and could barely drink and would need an IV soon.

As soon as they were at the cabin site, now a mess of mud and wood, Sam called Jill.

"We're all okay." "Grady too?"

"They abused her, but no rape. She's tough and she'll heal."

"Thank God."

"What happened with the vector?" "We got all the copters and all the cement trucks. It was a miracle and took three thousand law enforcement personnel, but that did it. There were some boats. They tried to evacuate everybody, but there were stragglers and some homeless that remained. It wasn't pretty. The homeless murdered each other in gruesome ways. Lost maybe fifty to a hundred peo ple. Still counting. Those that survived the fighting died from the immune response. It could have been a horrible disaster involving millions."

"The antivirus on the Internet?" "They say it worked." "Benoit?"

"Doing okay. She's going to need your help, Sam. A lot of angry Frenchmen here."

"I'm coming as fast as I can." "We're waiting."

It was twenty-four miserable hours later that the sheriff and National Guard and FBI made it to the hillside. They used inflatable rafts to cross the river-the cable across the river was gone-and then rope ladders and lines for gurneys to retrieve everyone. With the storm raging, helicopters remained impossible.

Sam went with everyone to the hospital. Just before leav ing he got a call from the director of the FBI.

"Pretty damn gutsy of me, approving that antivirus with out any testing."

"That's real leadership," Sam joked. "Maybe you should write a book."

"How come you never want to take credit for anything or be associated? It might be good for business."

"I like my privacy. And I'd appreciate it if the Bureau would support me in that. Tell the People magazine crowd and the rest that this was the work of my good friends, Ernie and Dennis."

Sam chose silver gray hair for the occasion, along with a mustache and horn-rimmed glasses. He watched from be hind a one-way mirror. Benoit Moreau was present with her attorney, Jefferson Peakum, a Tennessee trial lawyer hired by Sam. They sat at a big table with about twenty other people.

"This is an informal get-together to try to mediate an agreement," the fellow from the State Department began.

"We'll begin with Benoit's legal counsel, Jefferson Peakum."

"I'd like to say," he began in his Southern drawl, "that Miss Moreau has been granted asylum for her outstanding role in saving us from a considerable calamity with which you are all familiar. She's grateful for that, and I think no one quib bles that said asylum was well deserved. Initially we had some arguments about the rules concerning asylum, but we're here today to make our case to the French that the government of France should grant a pardon making asylum unnecessary. We are certain that once the fair-minded French have fully considered the matter, such a pardon will be granted."

He looked pointedly at the French, who suddenly all looked like their neckties might be too tight.

"There has been some concern that the French bought a pig in a poke from a French citizen of ill repute by the name of Devan Gaudet. Now a pig in a poke is a Southern term for a farmer's acquisition of unknown livestock. And that's like the French. They didn't check the pedigree. Chaperone, which is the pig in my little analogy, is a process centered on a molecule, and this process was developed by one Georges Raval, another Frenchman, at a time when he was an independent contractor for Grace Technologies. Now, in your notebooks I have supplied you with a copy of that contract with Mr. Raval that specifies his independent contractor status at the time of his discovery of Cordyceps and at the time of his development of the process, and I have also verified with the French trustee that, in fact, this document is in the official minute book of the corporation duly attested by the secretary, Benoit Moreau. It is dated 1999. The Grace Technologies corporation took back a royalty-free license to use the invention when it executed the independent con tract."

"That was all done by Benoit Moreau," the French diplomat interrupted in a shout.

"It was done in 1999 and the full board signed off on it." "I doubt the board even understood…" "Were you there? Benoit was there. Why not ask some one who was there?"

The Frenchman was red-faced but did not continue the debate. "Also attached are the notes of the American attorney wherein he records that Benoit Moreau raised the issue of Raval's employment and further indicates that the French bankruptcy lawyers represented that they would look into the matter of Raval's employment status at the time of the invention."

"Yes, we know this now. She fooled us," the senior French diplomat said. "The French bankruptcy lawyer was tricked. He did not understand the significance, so he overlooked the investigation, but Moreau knew all of this. She knew he was failing in his duty."

"You opened an escrow with an impeccable Swiss escrow agent. It says in the instructions that there are no promises or covenants between the parties, except those expressed in the escrow documents. Is that agreed?"

The French were silent.

"I take your silence to be similar to that of Pontius Pilate."

"It says that in the instructions, but that is no license for fraud," the French diplomat shot back.

"Certainly. Let us go further. It says in there, does it not, that Georges Raval was the inventor?"

More silence. "I won't keep referencing the murderer of our Savior in the same breath with the French position, but once again I take your silence to mean agreement."

"It says that, but once again-"

"It is not a license for fraud, and we would agree. Neither is it a license for stupidity, is it? So, if we continue to follow the beauty of logic and undertake the glories of wisdom, we get to the affidavit of Georges Raval. It says that this description of Chaperone is from the official records of Grace Technologies. And then Raval says that he cannot personally vouch for the efficacy of the science, as presented in these papers, but only that these are the official documents of Grace Technologies."

"This is merely legal jargon to protect him in case, for some reason, it doesn't work as expected."

"Precisely. And as I understand it, this doesn't work as expected."

"But he held back the real thing."

"No, he held back the version that he kept personally as the inventor. He states he is the sole inventor. Had he given you his version, he would not have met your demand. Your demand was for the official Grace Technologies documents."

"You're saying that Grace paid for all of this and has nothing."

"Absolutely not. They have a license by contract and Mr. Raval, or rather the foundation to which he has transferred the patent, will honor that perpetual royalty-free license. The French can use the Chaperone recipe without royalty. You obtained all of the vector technology from Gaudet. And I might add you got most of your money back."

"But this foundation can also sell Chaperone to the world and reap all the benefits," the French countered.

"Yes. That sometimes happens when you buy a pig in a poke. Now I agree that Mr. Gaudet as the seller could have done more to research the matter, but he did not, and you al lowed him to close and dropped your demand to review the matter and voluntarily gave up your opportunity to ensure that you understood the species in your poke. One would think that you would be grateful that the foundation is going to honor your royalty-free license and actually give you the right pig."

"We are not happy with the asylum. Benoit Moreau knew what she was doing."

"She knew that she was being lied to about a pardon by Messieurs Baptiste and Larive. She suspected those men were taking kickbacks. She knew that they planned to profit from Cordyceps. So, in her words, she used devil bait and caught some devils. She couldn't stop the atrocity of Cordyceps unless she got to America. To get to America she had to lie and convince these French devils that they could acquire Chaperone. All the while she knew, of course, that they had only a license, so she would get them what was rightfully theirs. And then"-Jefferson Peakum drew himself up and paused-"Benoit intended to stop the transaction before French dollars were transferred. This has been documented. But it could not be stopped because at the time set for closing she still had not learned enough about Cordyceps to save American lives. So she risked her own life and a few French dollars to save millions of lives. Now, that might not please a devil, but it should be good enough for an angel. You get what is right fully yours under the law and she saves the free markets from a calamity and potentially millions of lives. Only a devil would quibble with that. So which are you? Angels or devils?"

Sam could see that Jefferson was going to do just fine. He nodded to Harry and they left.