Resistant (44 page)

Red Cliff had gone from a secluded, foreboding fortress to a compound bustling with activity. The Neighbors’ helipad was getting frequent use, and street traffic into and away from the place was as steady as the surf. The Army Corps of Engineers erected a communications center almost overnight, giving everyone the cell phone service they couldn’t seem to live without.

For his part, Lou had been transfused three units at a small community hospital, and then medflighted to Bangor, where tests and exploratory surgery gave him only good news. Numbness in several fingers, and weakness in his right hand along the distribution of the ulnar nerve, but nothing time shouldn’t take care of. Twenty-four hours later, in a sling, he was back at Red Cliff, where he elected to stay rather than to travel back to Atlanta.

He communicated with Cap several times a day, but only for a few minutes each time. According to Dr. Win Carter, the head of Arbor General, Cap’s condition was heading steadily downhill, and each minute brought Lou new fears that a treatment, assuming one was even successfully developed, could arrive too late.

Lou awaited news about the Phagecil experiment near a makeshift memorial of flowers and cards dedicated to Agent Tim Vaill that had been put together at the base of the now boarded-up window. The Coast Guard had recovered Alexander Burke’s shattered corpse, largely eaten by fish and the sea, lodged between two barnacle-covered boulders near the shoreline, but Vaill’s body had yet to be found.

Beth Snyder had flown to Red Cliff to meet the “saviors,” as she had dubbed Lou, Kazimi, and Humphrey. When news came from the Coast Guard that they were abandoning the search for Vaill, she, Lou, and Chuck McCall held a brief vigil of silence, lit a candle, and threw it off Red Cliff into the charging waves. According to Snyder, Vaill and Maria would be memorialized at the FBI headquarters in D.C., and at all of the field offices, joining the thirty-six agents who had preceded them as Service Martyrs.

Lou was on his third cup of coffee, alone by the window farthest from the crowd, when Humphrey wheeled over. Despite the stresses of performing almost any task, Humphrey had been working around the clock, and had supervised installation of two air-conditioning units so that the temperature of the lab could be kept at below sixty—the temperature for keeping his CP under optimum control. Kazimi, who thrived in warm temperatures, showed his mettle and spirit of cooperation by wearing a parka.

Now, though, fatigue was starting to show in both men—mostly about their eyes. But soon, they hoped, their exhaustion would have proved worthwhile. Over the days before Kazimi’s return, since the moment he entered the lab with a skilled assistant to begin his experiments, Humphrey had gotten the attention and encouragement lavished upon him that a lifetime of living on the fringes had failed to provide. And Lou was more than pleased to see him finally getting the recognition he deserved.

Thankfully, at least according to Humphrey, a live antibacterial treatment could be put together and tested in a matter of days. In a show of unprecedented solidarity, standing by waiting were the chiefs of antibiotic research at most of the largest pharmaceutical houses in the country, all of which had pledged to speed any breakthrough into production.

“You seem nervous, Lou,” Humphrey said.

“Aren’t you?”

“Little, I suppose. Been working years for this test. Phage Banks brought were in excellent condition. I’ve always believed myself. This first time others believe in me, too.”

“I understand. I’m sure glad I believed in you, Humphrey. Cap will be excited, too. So will a lot of people for that matter.”

Humphrey looked beside himself with glee. “Scupman from CDC called. He’s on way here later today. Says he has place in lab for me.”

“That’s wonderful, Humphrey,” Lou said. “Really terrific.”

Before Humphrey could respond, Lou’s cell phone rang. He glanced at the number and his chest tightened when he saw it was Win Carter from Arbor General. They had spoken once this morning and Cap was still listed in critical, but stable condition.
Something must have changed.

Lou cleared his throat, took an anxious swallow, and answered the call.

“Win, what’s going on?”

“Lou, I’m afraid I’ve got bad news to share.”

Lou’s knee-jerk reaction was that Cap was dead, but he quickly realized there was another possibility.

“Go on,” he said, bracing himself against the back of a leather chair.

“Hank’s temp shot up a few hours ago, and his pressure began to drop. Ninety systolic, then eighty. Clearly he was septic. Lou, there was nothing his surgeons could do but amputate. They tried everything they could to forestall this, but time just ran out. I’m sorry, Lou. I’m so terribly sorry, for Hank and for you.”

Lou’s knees became Jell-O. He braced himself more firmly against the chair.

“How is he doing now?” he asked.

“Actually, that’s the good news. I just heard from his surgeon, and for the moment at least, his temp is down, his pressure is up, and his kidneys are functioning well.”

Lou could barely speak. He had failed. He had let down his best friend and there was nothing he could do to change that fact.

“How high up?” he managed to ask.

The hesitation from Atlanta all but answered his question.

“They chose to go as high as they could,” Carter said. “Just below the pelvis. They elected to try leaving the hip joint itself, because a prosthesis would be technically easier that way.”

Prosthesis.

A lump materialized in Lou’s throat. Delivering bad news had always been a part of his job, and although he never, ever enjoyed doing it, he knew he was usually effective at it, mostly by being direct and honest. He was grateful Win Carter had approached him the same way, even though the lump continued to grow.

“Thanks, Win,” he said, unable to cull the hoarseness from his voice. “I appreciate all you’ve done. Everything.”

“I just wish we could have done more.”

“Me, too,” Lou said, ending the call. “Me, too.”

He looked around, saw McCall talking with Beth Snyder, and waved him over.

“I need to fly back to Atlanta ASAP. Can you arrange that for me?”

“Sure, Lou. Anything you need. Is everything all right?”

“No. Not in the least. They took Cap’s leg.”

McCall sagged.

“Oh, shit. I’m so sorry, Lou. They couldn’t have put it off? Did they know what’s happening here?”

“They knew. They waited as long as they could. It sounds like it was either his leg or his life. It’s my fault. I let him down, Chuck. I let my closest friend down.”

“Don’t do that to yourself,” McCall said. “You did everything you could and then some.”

“I couldn’t save Tim and I couldn’t save Cap’s leg.”

“Lou…”

“Oh, hell. I know what you’re trying to say. I’m just babbling. Listen, just help me get out of here, Chuck. Can you do that for me?”

I need a meeting and I need to go see Cap.…

McCall returned a sympathetic look.

“You got it, Lou. We’ll warm up the chopper, and have the jet waiting for you at the airport. Goodness knows you’ve earned a flight in that beauty.”

“Thanks. One last thing. That night you and Tim came to get me at the Blue Ox. How did you know I had been asking about the phage?”

“Scupman. He had been working for us since the beginning, passing along anything that might have been of interest regarding the Doomsday Germ. Apparently Kazimi didn’t think enough of him to make him part of his team.”

“But Scupman never suspected his own assistant.”

McCall shook his head.

“Never a word. She was good, Lou. She was damn good at blending in. Looking like Little Bo Peep didn’t hurt her any, either.”

Lou sighed and wandered alone along the main passageway until he came to the French doors opening onto the cliff. In a haze, he stared unseeing across the North Atlantic. Behind him, through the windows of the Great Room, he could hear escalating commotion. It sounded as if the excitement was building.

Any minute now,
he thought.

He scuffed around along the narrow, gravel walkway to the spot on the north side where Alexander Burke had filmed his good-bye message for Lola. The windblown salted air had begun stinging the moistness in his eyes, as he gazed out at the steel-gray water. His thoughts were a swirl of regret mixed with guilt.
What if I never took Cap to Atlanta? What if we skipped the morning run like he had wanted? What if my grip had held? What if I had fallen instead of him…?

“I wish it was my leg, buddy,” Lou said to the sea. “I wish it was me in that hospital bed, and not you. I wish it could have been different.”

From inside the Great Room a triumphant cheer erupted, followed by a steady round of applause. Not long after, McCall approached, with his hands stuffed inside his jacket pockets.

“Chopper’s ready when you are.”

“Thanks. That cheering mean what I think it means?”

“All the mice are alive,” McCall said. “Every single last one of those sweet, fury little buggers.”

Lou strained a smile.

“That’s great news. I knew Humphrey could do it.”

“Not just Humphrey,” McCall said. “You, too, Lou. You deserve as much credit as he does.”

“I guess.”

McCall patted him on his good shoulder.

“Let it hurt, pal. That’s all you can do right now. Just let it hurt. That’s what I’m doing about Tim. And the moment you get near that beautiful kid of yours, hug her as long and as hard as she can stand it. I know I’m rambling, but I really owe you, Lou, and I really like you. And as for your friend back there in Atlanta, in a strange way, he helped save the lives of thousands of people—maybe much more than that.”

“So how come I don’t feel so great?” Lou asked.

“Because you’re not supposed to, that’s why. Time’ll take care of a lot of the pain, but never all of it. Just don’t forget that because of Cap, and you, and Tim, our government won’t be held hostage by a bunch of wacko terrorists with twisted ideals. And thanks to you, that creep Bacon is in custody and being questioned by people who are ten times as good at their job as me and ol’ Vaill.”

He punctuated that remark with a grin.

Lou felt a little better.

“Maybe we’ll run into each other in Atlanta,” he said.

“Well, I certainly hope so. I’m gonna be there for a hundred years trying to bail myself out of the frigging report mess you’ve left me. The beer’s gonna be on you.”

“So long as it isn’t at the Blue Ox. Thanks for the help getting me out of here, Chuck, and for the talk, too.”

They turned and headed back to the entrance. Another cheer burst out from within, and some champagne corks popped.

“Wish it had been sooner,” McCall said.

“Yeah … Me, too.”

“Beth Snyder wants to say good-bye before you go.”

“Chuck, I really wish Tim could be here to share this.”

“Who knows? Maybe he is.”

“Look, I’m going to skip out without seeing anybody if that’s okay with you. Tell Humphrey we’ll catch up at the hospital. Tell Beth I’ll be in touch.”

“You got it, pal.”

Lou walked around to the driveway, then across to the helipad. A few minutes later, with vivid memories of the chopper ride from beside the Chattahoochee River, he was airborne. Below him, he watched Red Cliff recede until it was little more than a speck.

Then, in a blink, it was gone.

CHAPTER 56

           It is impossible to climb the ladder of success if our government has removed every last rung.

        
—LANCASTER R. HILL, GRAVESTONE INSCRIPTION, ALL SAINTS CEMETERY, MAY 7, 1945

The white van navigated the circular drive and came to a stop at the gleaming glass front entrance of Arbor General. Lou, his sling still in place, waited curbside, and as soon as he saw the driver exit the van, he came forward to help unload his passenger. Humphrey was all smiles as the power platform lowered his wheelchair to ground level. Lou came up and they shook left hands.

“Long time buddy,” Humphrey said, his eyes sparkling.

He thanked his driver and motored toward the entrance. Lou fell into step alongside him.

“Three whole days,” Lou replied. “But I did appreciate all the e-mails and text messages you sent. It sounds like things went as well as we could hope after I left.”

“In drug companies’ hands now. First batch Phagecil ready to ship. Sorry too late for Cap.”

“Thanks, Humphrey. Thanks to you, it’s still going to help save his life.”

The automatic doors swooshed open and Lou followed the wheelchair into Arbor General’s expansive marble lobby. Having spent so much time there, he had become friendly with several of the salmon-wearing volunteers and he knew many of the security staff by first name.

Though he’d grown fond of them all, he was anxious to return to D.C., and he would, as soon as the arrangements at a top-notch rehab for Cap had been completed. He also had his old job to get back to. Filstrup had called to complain about work piling up, and the absence of a good replacement for Lou, in addition to the angry feedback he had endured from clients at the PWO. Completely out of character, he had offered him reinstatement. Of course, Lou had accepted, but not before working the man for an additional week of vacation annually for himself and also for Babs Peterbee, not retroactive, plus a nice personal donation from Filstrup to Emily’s Cap Duncan Fund.

But before Lou could make any more plans, there was a very crucial piece of business that had to be completed at the hospital.

“I’ve heard the gag order is going to be lifted soon,” he said as he and Humphrey prepared to part ways.

“Government going tell about Neighbors?”

“According to Chuck McCall and Beth Snyder, the answer is yes. Congress is worried about leaks and they want to be proactive about informing the American public about what happened, especially since it looks like Doug Bacon has handed over every member of the society. The president is preparing an address and he’s going to come forward about the existence of the Neighbors and how the Doomsday Germ that’s been spreading through hospitals was really a biological weapon designed by a domestic terrorist group. I hear you’re one of the few people who will be publicly credited by the president for your role in this victory over terrorism.”