Independence Day Plague (22 page)

Brian whistled softly, “There’s a lot of stuff on this list: balances, whole cases of liquid media, freaking tons of glassware. What the hell is a hot water bath?”

Dorado replied, “Some of this seems pretty big. You’d think someone would see folks carrying it out.”

Brian shrugged, “Work on a Sunday when security is minimal and no one’s around. Open a window and hand it to a buddy, maybe. Who knows?”

Sherrie pulled out a highlighter. “It gets better. Compare the lists with the resumes. If you look at the time periods within four months of Noonan’s working each job,” she began drawing blue boxes around sections of each printout. “You find some interesting equipment not usually found in a chemistry lab.”

Dorado moved the list around. “Is this the same stuff the CDC talked about?”

“
A lot of it, yes.”

“
It’s good.” Dorado grinned. “It’s good but nothing really ties Noonan to the thefts. It’s very circumstantial.”

“
What if I could give you the final missing key?”

Dorado cocked an eyebrow at her. “Something irrefutable?”

“
No, but a very large smoking gun.” She pulled a pad of stapled papers out of the file. “A general search on Noonan’s name came up with some interesting things. Most of the medical journals are online now.” She placed the printout in front of the men. The heading read Journal of the American Medical Association with a two year ago date.

Dorado asked, "The kid wrote a science paper?"

McAfee read off the top, “Use of Polarized Static Filters in Air-Born Anthrax Spore Elimination” He shrugged. “Okay, Noonan’s not listed as a coauthor. Did he work for the guy that wrote this?”

“
Yes, but look at this,” She flipped to the back page and pointed to the Acknowledgements at the end of the paper. “He was thanked for his work in developing this experiment.”

“
Jesus Sherrie, you’re great.” Dorado gathered the papers up and handed the list to McAfee. “I think that certainly gives us enough for a warrant. Get it to Judge Hernandez when the courts open first thing in the morning.”

“
Sure thing, amigo." He glanced at the clock. “Damn, it’s coming up on eleven. Quitting time folks.” He stretched his back and then ambled towards the door. “See you in the morning.”

Olsen took the chair opposite Dorado as he began organizing papers on the piled desk. He smiled at her. “You’re wasted in data analysis. You should be a detective.”

She sighed, “I don’t like dealing with people. Computers are safer. I’ll leave the
‘catching the bad guys’
part to you big strong men.”

Dorado stood. “Sorry about pulling you in. I’ll get a taxi for you to see that you get home safely.”

“
Thanks, that’s nice of you.” She stood up and moved next to him while he put his jacket on. She looked down and traced the fake wood grain of the desk with her fingers. “It’s a pretty long drive back to Rockville. You look tired. Why don’t you just stay with me tonight? You keep a fresh shirt here, don’t you?” A lot of the officers kept spare clothing in the locker room or in their desk. Dorado was no exception.

He watched the way her hair flowed down across her cheeks as she avoided looking up. They had spent two dinners together, each ending in a quiet bit of kissing, nothing more. "I’m not much for sleeping on couches,” he said quietly.

“
I’m not offering a couch.” She met his gaze and smiled softly.

Chapter 11

June 25, 2026

By ten o’clock the next morning, Dorado found himself pressed against the peeling wood frame of the back door of Noonan’s house. The drizzling rain became a personal irritant but a professional blessing. People avoided going out in the rain and it neutralized any area laser-motion sensors that were often set up by drug houses for early warning. McAfee waited, pressed on the opposite side of the doorway. Tiny two-way radios in their ears connected them with the other team members via a communications van parked three blocks away.

Dorado declared himself OIC in the raid, while Taylor took the role of the face. Dressed in “Jesus is Your Savior Too” t-shirt and pressed jeans, Taylor waited at the front door to present the search and arrest warrants. This essential legal fine-point had become critical with increasing privacy laws. However, if anyone failed to answer the door and any one of the motion devices placed previously on the windows’ glass planes detected movement, then the rules changed. It used technology to skirt the illegal search-and-seizure issues and kept the suspects from destroying evidence. Technology occasionally was a blessing for the police rather than for the criminals.

They heard Taylor murmur, “Bell’s rung. Movement towards the door.” Taylor was the least protected member. Dorado pictured him with slumped shoulders, trying hard to look like one of the common door-to-door evangelicals. Many religious groups wandered through suburban DC during the summers, both recruiting and fundraising. In the past, the
face
position of the raid drew first fire.

The deep voice of the audio tech broke in, “We’ve still got consistent movement upstairs and down. Two suspects only. No increase in activity. Everything looks good.”

Through the earpiece, Dorado heard the door swing open and Taylor’s opening remarks. An old woman answered. He thumbed off the safety on the rifle. Looking over, he shot McAfee a thumbs-up sign and saw him nod in return. He reached over and slowly, soundlessly checked the doorknob. It didn’t move.

Taylor said clearly, “Warrants presented and rejected.” Dorado swung around and gave one mighty kick to the door, cracking the chipped wood frame and swinging it inward. The earpiece filled with shouting as others stormed through the front door. Taylor spoke again. “One female suspect in custody”

“
Roger,” Dorado murmured into the mike, “OIC now entering building.” Rifle forward, he moved quickly through the kitchen straight to the back of the stairway where the development office’s floor plans indicated a basement door. The small pressed wood door was painted in an identical pattern to the wall, almost invisible to the casual glance. Dorado followed the seam in the wall with his fingers, pressing and probing. With a hard push against a corner section, the door swung outward revealing a tube of stairs going downward, ending in a right angle into the room. With his rifle up and McAfee at his back, Dorado quickly descended the stairs. The fumes wafting up smelled vaguely chemical. A baldhead darted into view, looking up for a split second.

Dorado shouted “Freeze!” but the head withdrew followed by the sound of crashing glass. Dorado swore and ran down the rest of the stairs. The thin bald man stood in front of a large metal sink with his back to the doorway, two beakers of fluid in each hand. Grinding noise filled the air. The computer’s monitor flashed violently as the hard drive light blinked repeatedly.

“
I said, freeze, asshole! Put the bottles down slowly and put your hands on your head.” Dorado snarled.

McAfee and two others fanned out behind him, rifles up and aimed. The bald man’s head snapped up. He slowly expanded his plastic-gloved hands away from his sides. The translucent pale yellow/brown fluid in each hand reflected the fluorescent lighting back at them. The man turned slowly and grinned with wide perfect teeth pressed against pale thin lips. His eyes glittered, red rimmed with drugs.

“
There is enough disease here to kill everyone in the house within days. It will start a plague that you won’t be able to stop. Let me walk out or I’ll drop them.” He tilted his head and took one slow step forward.

Dorado brought his gun up against his shoulder. “Put them down.”

“
I’m not kidding!” he shouted as he took another step.

“
Careful chief, he’s stoned.” Brian’s voice murmured through the headset.

Dorado raised his head off the rifle. The faded jeans and dirty white t-shirt hung on the thin frame. The boy’s arms twitched with small muscle spasms, making the liquid slosh in the bottles. “I’m too tired for this bravado shit,” he said. Clenching his teeth, he slowly lowered his head and looked through the aiming reticle, never breaking eye contact.

Noonan’s smile slipped. His wide eyes lost some sparkle and he swung the flasks forward and tilted them. The thick golden fluid flowed within an inch of the flask’s lip. “This shit gets into your lungs or on your skin, and you’re good as dead.”

Dorado cocked the gun and spoke. “I have enough bullets in this gun to kill you in a heartbeat. I can get treated for the anthrax. There is no way in hell you’re carrying that poison out of here.” He lowered his head and looked through the sight. “You got three seconds, one…two…”

The eyes dimmed and the smile faded quickly, “Okay, okay.” Noonan stretched forward and clunked the glassware down on the table.

“
Down on your knees and put your hands behind your head.” Dorado lowered the gun slightly and let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. McAfee behind him slung his rifle up and walked forward with handcuffs. Dorado slung his rifle as McAfee cuffed Noonan and recited his rights in a bored voice.

“
How did you know?” Noonan looked at Dorado. “How could you possibly know it was anthrax?”

“
Thayor Cabbot let us know before he died.”

Handcuffed and dragged to his feet, Noonan jerked away from the officer. Dorado faced him. “You working alone?” he asked quietly.

“
I’m not telling you anything. I see the shows. I got rights.”

“
Fortunately, Homeland Security laws circumvent most citizen rights. Under the anti-terrorism laws, you’re looking at a possible death sentence.” Dorado replied levelly.

Noonan’s eyes widen. “Maybe. If you want names, I want a deal.”

“
You murdered a kid.” Dorado pursed his lips into a hard thin line. “What kind of deal do you think I can give you for manufacturing, possession with intent to distribute, terrorism, and murder? That is a whole different matter, isn’t it Brian?”

Noonan’s thin body rocked as McAfee lightly punched boy’s shoulder, “Sure is chief. Let me think. Ever since the New York radiation case, terrorism involving loss of life equals an automatic death sentence. I think our boy here qualifies for the needle. That is if he lasts any time in prison. I hear they don’t like terrorists very much. The big guys take special interest in them.”

Dorado continued, “You’re in a world of trouble, boy. You talk to me I’ll make the path a little smoother. Otherwise, your life will be a long, living hell.”

Noonan stuttered as he replied. “I didn’t kill anybody. I didn’t even sell the bugs. I just wanted to see if I could grow it.”

Dorado tisked, shaking his head, “Wrong answer. Cabbot’s dead and from a germ we’ll link DNA-wise back to the bug farm you have here.”

Noonan frantically shook his head. “No. no. no. You got it wrong. I didn’t kill Thayor. I didn’t hurt anyone. I grew the stuff. The damn kid started sniffing around the tubes and caught it. It wasn't my fault.”

Dorado leaned in inches from the boy’s sweating face. He spoke slowly, “I. Want. Names.”

Noonan collapsed his shoulders. Looking down, he mumbled, “I think I want a lawyer.”

“
And you shall have one.” He gestured to one of the officers on the stairs. “Take him away.”

The SWAT officer took Noonan by the elbow and pushed him towards the stairs. Dorado ordered the others out, leaving only McAfee and himself standing in the makeshift lab. Footsteps resounded from above as the others secured and searched the house. Dorado radioed back to Central to secure the place for the HAZMAT team. McAfee wandered over to the computer, lifting the large electromagnet off the CPU. “Computer’s fried.”

The female murmuring above turned to shrieks as the officers took Noonan out of the house. Dorado thumbed his mike on. “Patch me to Taylor.”

After a few seconds, “Yeah boss?”

“
Book the woman as an accessory. No way in hell she can deny knowing what the boy did in her basement.”

McAfee opened the cabinets by the computer system, looking through the metal cabinets and drawers. “Bingo,” he said as he pulled out a translucent plastic box. Inside, it was subdivided into compartments, each filled with a different colored tiny capsule. “Here’s his merchandise.”

“
Yeah, he’s got all the right chemicals over here,” Dorado scanned the white bottles lined up across the shelving on one wall. Next to it sat a large stainless steel cabinet on a heavy-duty table. The cabinet hummed in low base thrumming. Putting his hand on it, Dorado felt the slight heat coming off, too warm for a refrigerator. Opening it slowly, he caught the whiff of something roast beef-like. Inside, stacks of round plastic dishes, three high and ten deep sat strewn across the metal shelving. A half inch of yellow fluid filled each one. He shut the door quickly.

“
Hey chief, over here!”

Dorado turned to see McAfee behind another machine, about two feet tall off the table. Light steam whiffs rose gently as the machine gave off a repetitive rocking sound. He walked over and looked down. More Petri dishes were laid out along the four-foot metal platform above the steam bath. Each had different levels of the same yellow-brown fluid. “Don’t touch anything Brian. God knows what any of this is.”

“
Why do you suppose it makes me feel hungry for a steak sandwich?”