Exposed (49 page)

University of Virginia

UVA at Charlottesville was Maggie’s alma mater, so when Professor Sloane told her to meet him in the Old Medical School Building she knew exactly where it was. She also knew from her alumnae newsletters that the building was now used for faculty offices. Other than offices, it housed research laboratories and clinical-training facilities. Fall break made it possible for her to find a quick parking spot.

Maggie had worked with Professor Sloane only once before, but she knew him from teaching at Quantico. His forensic-documents class used to follow her criminal-behavior class. Cunningham frequently called on Sloane as a consultant when documents were a part of a case. She wasn’t surprised that Tully and Ganza hadn’t pressed the professor when he gave them what sounded like a quick assessment. Tully and Sloane rubbed each other the wrong way. She knew it from the tension the two men gave off just being in the same room. She was hoping she could get information out of Sloane that perhaps Tully wasn’t able to.

The front door to the Old Medical School Building was unlocked, though there was no one in the halls. She took the elevator to the basement, and as soon as she got off she could hear what sounded like monkeys screeching at the end of the hallway. Doors were closed and secured with key-card locks. A few signs indicated most of the rooms down here were research labs. One had a QUARANTINE sign posted.

She continued to search for what could be Sloane’s office. Unsuccessful she headed down the other direction despite the screeching. Her cell phone started ringing and she grabbed it out of her pocket.

“This is Maggie O’Dell.”

“It’s Sloane,” Tully said, and he sounded out of breath.

“I’m looking for him now.”

“No, you don’t understand—”

That was all Maggie heard before she felt the blow to the back of her head.

University of Virginia

UVA at Charlottesville was Maggie’s alma mater, so when Professor Sloane told her to meet him in the Old Medical School Building she knew exactly where it was. She also knew from her alumnae newsletters that the building was now used for faculty offices. Other than offices, it housed research laboratories and clinical-training facilities. Fall break made it possible for her to find a quick parking spot.

Maggie had worked with Professor Sloane only once before, but she knew him from teaching at Quantico. His forensic-documents class used to follow her criminal-behavior class. Cunningham frequently called on Sloane as a consultant when documents were a part of a case. She wasn’t surprised that Tully and Ganza hadn’t pressed the professor when he gave them what sounded like a quick assessment. Tully and Sloane rubbed each other the wrong way. She knew it from the tension the two men gave off just being in the same room. She was hoping she could get information out of Sloane that perhaps Tully wasn’t able to.

The front door to the Old Medical School Building was unlocked, though there was no one in the halls. She took the elevator to the basement, and as soon as she got off she could hear what sounded like monkeys screeching at the end of the hallway. Doors were closed and secured with key-card locks. A few signs indicated most of the rooms down here were research labs. One had a QUARANTINE sign posted.

She continued to search for what could be Sloane’s office. Unsuccessful she headed down the other direction despite the screeching. Her cell phone started ringing and she grabbed it out of her pocket.

“This is Maggie O’Dell.”

“It’s Sloane,” Tully said, and he sounded out of breath.

“I’m looking for him now.”

“No, you don’t understand—”

That was all Maggie heard before she felt the blow to the back of her head.

Tully couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen it earlier.

He barreled down the Hwy-20 exit off of I-95. It would take him forever to get to Charlottesville. Maggie’s cell phone was going to voice message. Had Sloane already done something to her?

Now, of course, it all made sense.

He remembered George Sloane asking where he was when the box of doughnuts was delivered.

Sloane had said, “If I remember correctly, you can’t resist a chocolate doughnut.”

Chocolate doughnuts were Tully’s one constant obsession. He went through stages. Oreo cookies, licorice and once upon a time jelly beans, but chocolate doughnuts were a mainstay. But that wasn’t what should have set off the trigger. Sloane had also said, “So terrorists are delivering their threats at the bottom of doughnut boxes now?”

How did he know the note was at the bottom of the box? Only Cunningham, Maggie, Ganza and himself knew that. You’d never assume a note to be at the bottom. Sloane knew because he placed it there.

And why would Caroline and her fiancé be targeted by the Ebola mailer unless her old sweetheart, who had still been in touch with her as recently as July, was somehow involved?

Her old sweetheart, Indy aka George Sloane, had gone a bit berserk the last time she had chosen someone else. It had even gotten him thrown out of the FBI before he finished training. As a result he became a forensic-document expert, still working with the FBI but always on the outside, working on the fringes. Working on every major case but never getting the credit he thought he deserved. George Sloane had always wanted to be a feebie, not a professor.

How many other packages had Sloane mailed?

And Maggie was with him right now. Unable to answer her phone.

Maybe Tully was wrong. Maybe she wasn’t in danger. It was possible her cell phone was just out of range. Maybe there was no reason for Tully to panic.

Tully told himself this as he continued to punch down on the car’s accelerator.

Tully couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen it earlier.

He barreled down the Hwy-20 exit off of I-95. It would take him forever to get to Charlottesville. Maggie’s cell phone was going to voice message. Had Sloane already done something to her?

Now, of course, it all made sense.

He remembered George Sloane asking where he was when the box of doughnuts was delivered.

Sloane had said, “If I remember correctly, you can’t resist a chocolate doughnut.”

Chocolate doughnuts were Tully’s one constant obsession. He went through stages. Oreo cookies, licorice and once upon a time jelly beans, but chocolate doughnuts were a mainstay. But that wasn’t what should have set off the trigger. Sloane had also said, “So terrorists are delivering their threats at the bottom of doughnut boxes now?”

How did he know the note was at the bottom of the box? Only Cunningham, Maggie, Ganza and himself knew that. You’d never assume a note to be at the bottom. Sloane knew because he placed it there.

And why would Caroline and her fiancé be targeted by the Ebola mailer unless her old sweetheart, who had still been in touch with her as recently as July, was somehow involved?

Her old sweetheart, Indy aka George Sloane, had gone a bit berserk the last time she had chosen someone else. It had even gotten him thrown out of the FBI before he finished training. As a result he became a forensic-document expert, still working with the FBI but always on the outside, working on the fringes. Working on every major case but never getting the credit he thought he deserved. George Sloane had always wanted to be a feebie, not a professor.

How many other packages had Sloane mailed?

And Maggie was with him right now. Unable to answer her phone.

Maybe Tully was wrong. Maybe she wasn’t in danger. It was possible her cell phone was just out of range. Maybe there was no reason for Tully to panic.

Tully told himself this as he continued to punch down on the car’s accelerator.

University of Virginia

Maggie’s head throbbed. High-pitched fingernails on a chalkboard brought her back. Her eyes fluttered, blurry images, swishes of green. The air was foul, something rancid, sweaty fur, animal feces.

She recognized the screeches from down the hall. Only, they weren’t down the hall. They were closer. She opened her eyes, kept them open, willed them to focus. Then jerked to consciousness.

Beady eyes stared out at her. Green fur flicked and swirled. Razor-sharp claws scratched out between the metal bars of cages. She was in the middle of a small room lined on both sides with cages of screeching monkeys.

She tried to bolt upright and fell back. Her wrist was anchored to a corner table, strapped tight with a plastic tie. She pulled and yanked at it, but it dug into her skin. Her movement only made the monkeys scream louder and bang around inside their cages, slamming their small hands against the bars or reaching out.

Maggie tried to calm herself. To steady herself.
Keep quiet. Don’t move
.

With her free hand she patted down her jacket pocket and wasn’t surprised to find her cell phone gone. So was her Smith & Wesson. She looked around the room to see if there was anything she could use to cut the plastic tie. There was nothing but monkey cages. Pellets of food and monkey feces scattered across the floor around and even underneath her. She rose to her feet, keeping her movements slow and easy. She couldn’t stand upright with her wrist bound to the metal table.

She searched the room again for anything she could use. This time she noticed the two end cages and a chill slid over her. Both the doors were flapping open. That’s when she saw a flick of a long green tail slip out from behind the table by the door.

Instinctively she grabbed at her shoulder holster, again, before remembering it was empty.

Then she saw a second ball of green fur out of the corner of her eyes. This one was sitting high up on top of the cages and he was staring down her.

Okay, so there were at least two monkeys loose. Sharp claws, sharp teeth. Somewhere from her data bank she remembered that they spit, too.

Don’t look them in the eyes. Stay quiet and calm. Don’t move.

She’d figure something out. But she needed to stay calm. Breathe. She scanned the room again, moving only her eyes.

That’s when the lights went out.

It took everything she had inside her to not scream. When she felt the first brush of fur against her face she automatically jerked away. She gasped and gulped for air before making herself stationary again.

Quiet. Be still. Don’t show your fear
.

She was dripping wet with sweat and fear. How could they not sense that? But something told her they wouldn’t attack unless threatened. That’s when she felt the second swipe across her cheek. Only this time it was claws, not fur.

University of Virginia

Maggie’s head throbbed. High-pitched fingernails on a chalkboard brought her back. Her eyes fluttered, blurry images, swishes of green. The air was foul, something rancid, sweaty fur, animal feces.

She recognized the screeches from down the hall. Only, they weren’t down the hall. They were closer. She opened her eyes, kept them open, willed them to focus. Then jerked to consciousness.

Beady eyes stared out at her. Green fur flicked and swirled. Razor-sharp claws scratched out between the metal bars of cages. She was in the middle of a small room lined on both sides with cages of screeching monkeys.

She tried to bolt upright and fell back. Her wrist was anchored to a corner table, strapped tight with a plastic tie. She pulled and yanked at it, but it dug into her skin. Her movement only made the monkeys scream louder and bang around inside their cages, slamming their small hands against the bars or reaching out.

Maggie tried to calm herself. To steady herself.
Keep quiet. Don’t move
.

With her free hand she patted down her jacket pocket and wasn’t surprised to find her cell phone gone. So was her Smith & Wesson. She looked around the room to see if there was anything she could use to cut the plastic tie. There was nothing but monkey cages. Pellets of food and monkey feces scattered across the floor around and even underneath her. She rose to her feet, keeping her movements slow and easy. She couldn’t stand upright with her wrist bound to the metal table.

She searched the room again for anything she could use. This time she noticed the two end cages and a chill slid over her. Both the doors were flapping open. That’s when she saw a flick of a long green tail slip out from behind the table by the door.

Instinctively she grabbed at her shoulder holster, again, before remembering it was empty.

Then she saw a second ball of green fur out of the corner of her eyes. This one was sitting high up on top of the cages and he was staring down her.

Okay, so there were at least two monkeys loose. Sharp claws, sharp teeth. Somewhere from her data bank she remembered that they spit, too.

Don’t look them in the eyes. Stay quiet and calm. Don’t move.

She’d figure something out. But she needed to stay calm. Breathe. She scanned the room again, moving only her eyes.

That’s when the lights went out.

It took everything she had inside her to not scream. When she felt the first brush of fur against her face she automatically jerked away. She gasped and gulped for air before making herself stationary again.

Quiet. Be still. Don’t show your fear
.

She was dripping wet with sweat and fear. How could they not sense that? But something told her they wouldn’t attack unless threatened. That’s when she felt the second swipe across her cheek. Only this time it was claws, not fur.

University of Virginia

Tully had been to Sloane’s office only once before, but it was easy to remember where it was. He bragged about being in the basement of the Old Medical School Building, where no one bothered him. Leave it to Sloane to brag about a basement office and make it sound like a privilege.

Tully noticed a parking sign for George Sloane right out front. One of those anniversary signs the university rewarded professors after so many years of service. An SUV was parked in the slot. An SUV with government plates. Tully shook his head. The guy had his own parking space, a government-issue vehicle. He had tenure at a reputable university and he still wasn’t happy.

Tully didn’t waste time with the elevator. He found the stairs.

Sloane’s office was closed. The door locked. Tully pounded anyway. He pulled out his Glock and started checking doors left and right despite the key-card security pads. All the while monkeys screeched at the other end of the hall.

He stopped and stared at the door that held behind it screaming monkeys and he hoped to God he was wrong about what the monkeys were screaming at.

“It took you long enough,” George Sloane said from behind him.

Tully turned slowly to find Sloane in the hallway, several syringes in his hand.

“I saved some of the virus just for you.” He held up one of the syringes as he slid the others into his jacket pocket.

“Where’s Agent O’Dell?”

“She’s smarter than you…” Sloane smiled. “She found all my references. You didn’t get any of them, did you?”

“Does it matter? Or are you still trying to compete with me?” Getting under George Sloane’s skin might be the only way to set him off. Did he really want to set him off?

“You were never competition. Now, Razzy, I could understand when Caroline slept with him. But I knew she’d never marry him.”

Tully kept his finger on the trigger. The monkeys kept screeching at his back. Sloane wasn’t unnerved by them at all.

“I spent years planning this, months rehearsing and finding the perfect patsy. Every step was deliberate, an intricate piece of a total puzzle. I outwitted everyone, just like I did twenty-five years ago.”

“The Tylenol murders. That was you?”

“I had to get rid of my fucking family. They were in the way. They kept after me to come home and run the family business. Nagging me. Never understanding why I wanted to be an FBI agent. Caroline was the best thing that ever happened to me. I was clearing a way for us to be together and she was off fucking you in Cleveland.” His face turned red at the memory.

“And yet you still wanted her.”

He stared at Tully, a blank stare, surprised that Tully knew.

“You still wanted her and you lost her again,” Tully said. “But not to Razzy or me. She had a chance to choose you again, after all these years, and she chose someone else.”

Sloane shrugged, pretending it didn’t matter. Tully watched him jerk his head from side to side. His eyes darted around as if to shake the memory. When he finally looked back up at Tully he was George Sloane again and not that boy Indy who’d had so many idealistic hopes and dreams.

“Seems it’s you who has a choice now,” he said with a grin. And he pointed to the door behind Tully. The door the monkeys were screeching behind and now thumping around.

“Saving Agent O’Dell or taking me down.”

Tully’s stomach slid to his feet. He was right. Maggie was trapped behind that door.

“You can’t shoot me,” Sloane told him, waving his arms up and down as if giving Tully a free shot. “You don’t have the guts.”

Tully raised his Glock. “You forget. I was always a better shot than you.”

“Yeah,” Sloane said, holding up the syringe with one hand while his other hand reached for the wall, flipping a light switch Tully hadn’t seen. The entire hallway went black. “Are you as good a shot in the dark?”

Tully swiped at the walls on both sides of him. No switches. He couldn’t see anything, The basement hallway was pitch-black. There were no red lights that marked smoke detectors. There were no exit signs. Not even a slice of light beneath any of the doors. Doors that Tully already knew were all locked and required key cards.

He tried to stay calm. He tried to focus, to keep his breathing slow and his heart from pounding in his ears. He needed to listen. How could he hear over the monkeys screaming behind him?

He thought he heard a squeak on the floor directly in front of him. Was that possible? How far away? A foot? Maybe two?

He took a deep breath. Didn’t Sloane use an aftershave? Or was he smelling monkey urine?

Tully braced his back against the wall, staying in one place. Sloane would expect him to move away, back away. He waited for his eyes to adjust to the dark, closing them tight and opening them again. He still couldn’t see anything but total black.

One thing was certain. Tully knew he was coming.

Sloane had probably memorized how many paces it took to get down this hallway. Maybe he’d even made sure all the exit signs would not light up. He said he’d rehearsed everything. Did he have time to rehearse this, too? If so, he’d be able to stab the needle in before Tully could get off a shot.

Their training taught them to aim for the heart. Sloane would remember that. In fact, he’d count on Tully doing just that. Tully had to think quickly. He had to act fast.

He slid down the wall so that he was crouching. And despite the pitch-black, Tully tried to imagine Sloane crawling toward him. He raised his Glock and started firing. He fired low, shot after shot, left to right, a steady stream of bullets. He heard a yell, maybe a thump. He stopped.

Silence.

Even the monkeys had gone silent.

Tully stood up, put his hand on the wall and walked the length of it, swiping at the wall until he found the light switch.

He was right.

George Sloane had been on his hands and knees only ten feet away. How else could Tully explain the head shot that left his old friend dead in the middle of the hallway?

He turned back toward the door. The monkeys had started screeching again. He could hear them rattling against their cages. The door was locked. Key-card pass only. His Glock would have to do, one more time. The monkeys were silent a second time.

It was completely quiet when he eased into the doorway. Out of the dark corner he heard Maggie repeat Sloane’s welcome, “It took you long enough.”