Terror Bounty (20 page)

Rick was agape and he blinked several
times, all the while wondering if he had finally reached his breaking point.
This had to be a hallucination.

But no, it wasn’t simply a vision. It was
tangible, Olivia was there. He could smell her distinctive shampoo which he
remembered vividly after that night together.

She was alive.

“That’s impossible…” he whispered.

“Surprised to see me?”

“But… Greenwood had you killed…”

She shrugged and moved forward. Rick had
no choice but to step aside to let her in, after which he swiftly closed the
door.

He gawked at her from head to toe. Not
only was she alive but she looked better than ever. She was wearing a smart
business suit – with flats though, not heels – and her hair was impeccable, up
in some sort of bun. She could have worked as a lawyer or schoolteacher.

“I don’t understand, Olivia. You were
murdered.”

He had to be dreaming. Real or not, this
defied the rules of physics.

“Poor Chamba, it was his first hit. It
took a little convincing, a little sweet-talking, but in the end the lad wasn’t
ready to kill yet.”

Unable to resist, Rick rushed forward and
took her in his arms. She was taken aback and smiled when she finally hugged
him back.

“You can’t believe how scared I was.”

“You were scared? I’ll have you know that
I’m the one who had to stare down the barrel of a pistol.”

He continued his embrace. It was because
he was happy to see her, of course, but also because he felt a heavy weight
lifting off his shoulders. The worst thing he’d done in his life was being
responsible for her death and now this was behind him. It was as close to a do-over
as he would ever be allowed.

It was a second chance at life.

“How?” he asked as he backed away from
her. “You went into the woods with that kid. Greenwood told me that he
discovered you were MI6, that killing you was a necessary evil. I had to play
along, I had to pretend I was on board with this.”

“It’s okay, Rick. I’m not holding a
grudge against you, don’t worry. It’s part of the job.”

“But… how? What happened? I saw Chamba
walk back to the village, he said he killed you.”

“Some people think they can murder
someone, be it for their cause, their beliefs, but in reality it takes a very
special mindset to kill a person. It takes a long time to train a soldier to do
it, even longer for someone in my profession. Chamba was nowhere near there. He
wasn’t really committed to Greenwood, I saw this immediately.”

“So he just let you go?”

“I appealed to his humanity. When he
hesitated I exploited that breach. Being part of the OWL was a youthful
adventure for him, not a career path. I offered him a chance at a better life.
Since Greenwood had told him who I was, he believed me when I said I could get
him out of Zambia.”

“Zambia? Is that where we were?”

“Yes, Rick,” she said with a soft laugh. “After
he let me go, I made my way to Lusaka, contacted my people, and arranged for
Chamba and his family to be extracted. That young man was never going to be a
terrorist. Score one for the good guys.”

“Jesus…”

Rick was ecstatic at this unbelievable
story. He sat on the edge of the desk while he processed this. His heart was
light, he hadn’t felt any measure of happiness in such a long time that he
wondered if this was really it.

But out of the blue, the darkness
returned. The guilt was back because this was only a small part of the story.

He looked up at her. “I had to bring
Greenwood a biological weapon.”

“Okay, you win. You may have had a worse
week than me.”

“No kidding.”

“But I already know about it,” she said. “My
superior allowed me to close the case, that’s why I’m here. I’ve been tracking
you. Tell me what happened.”

He told her everything, from his trip to
South Africa and picking up the briefcase to him peeking into it and
inadvertently becoming a terrorist himself, dabbling in biological warfare.
Then he told her about the failed raid against Greenwood at the motel and how
the attack would most likely be at the Key Tower instead.

She sighed and crossed her arms. “I see.
I suppose I always liked a challenge.”

“Well, you’re at the wrong place because
I can’t help you. They cut me out of the loop.”

“No, they haven’t, Rick. You’re the
person who knows the most about Greenwood, they will never cut you out.”

He brushed this off with a wave of the
hand. “Come on, they have every right to dismiss me. Greenwood saw right
through me, he played me like a fucking Nintendo.”

Olivia came forward with a faint smile. “You’re
here, aren’t you?”

“It’s just that… Look at you. He figured
out who you were, that you work for British intelligence. And me? He had me
bring him his biology project. He had us waste our time at the motel when he
was going somewhere else. The guy bent us to his liking.”

“What are you saying?” she asked,
frowning with curiosity.

“Before I left him he told me how he
needed just one big final score. He wants to go out with a bang, even plans to
give himself up afterwards for the publicity. But this thing at the Key Tower?
A corporate merger just doesn’t seem to fit the profile, he’s already done a
bunch of them.”

“And?”

Rick found himself gaining confident for
the first time in weeks and he straightened up. “He’s yanking our chain. It’s
another diversion.”

~  ~  ~  ~

While Garfield Plastics was based in
Indiana, Consolidated Stokes Polymer was the bigger player and they had seven
floors at the Key Tower. Because of the momentous events of today, the
executive boardroom on the 42nd floor had been chosen to hold the final merger
negotiations.

In reality, this meeting was only a
formality. There was no one at Garfield or Stokes who wanted to tank this deal.
The Garfield family would severely increase their stake in the business and
walk away with $4 billion, half of which in cash. For Stokes which had
controlling interests, it would make them the second largest chemical company
in America.

They had the right congressmen and
senators on their side, the trade commissions and boards had been plied with
love and money until rubber-stamping this agreement was a foregone conclusion.

Every single board member and
high-ranking executive was about to walk away a millionaire.

These men and women – mostly men and
mostly gray-haired – were joking around the conference table, talking about
which kind of yacht and mansion and diamond they were going to buy. No one gave
a second glance at the pitchers of water in front of them.

No one noticed the water’s pale greenish
tint.

The mobile command van was pretty nifty
even though no one said so. It was a half-million-dollar bus converted with all
the amenities: high-speed Internet, workstations, phone lines galore. There was
even a fridge filled with water, soda, snacks.

Vanstedum heard a few agents and local
cops commenting on their nice digs but personally he didn’t see it. He was
standing, leaning back against a desk, and his ear was burning from all the
phone use. He was in constant communication with FBI headquarters. His boss,
Paul Tuccillo, wanted to be updated pretty much every 30 seconds.

He wanted to scream at the man that when
he knew something he’d be the first one to know. But that wasn’t something you
could say to the Executive Assistant Director of the FBI National Security
Branch.

The irony of it all was that the Key
Tower’s largest tenant was actually KeyCorp, one of the most important financial
institutions in the US.
Leave it to Greenwood to go after plastics
manufacturers while still messing with a bank
, Vanstedum mused.

Westerbeck came running into the van,
removing his own phone from his ear.

“What do you have?” the Assistant
Director asked him.

“They’re finishing up a preliminary
sweep.”

“And?”

“No explosives, no booby traps that we
can find. But…”

“What?”

“The guys upstairs may be onto something.”

Vanstedum’s face blanched.

~  ~  ~  ~

Just off the executive boardroom on the
42nd floor, two FBI technicians in full Level A hazmat suits were searching
through a small kitchen. From the looks of it, this was where Danishes and
doughnuts were plated and coffee made for meetings.

On the counter were three crystal pitchers
filled with water, probably prepared in advance to replenish the ones in the
conference room. God forbid some bigwig executive ever got parched.

One of the technicians, a woman who was
working on her PhD in chemistry, noticed that the water wasn’t fully
translucent.

“Check this out,” she told her partner.

Her voice was distorted because of the
full-facepiece SCBA – self-contained breathing apparatus. The other man came
closer and scanned the area.

He found the trashcan underneath the
counter and peered inside.

“Holy shit.”

“What?” the woman asked.

She came closer before he could reply. At
the bottom of the basket was a broken test tube and etched in it was the
biohazard symbol. There was a droplet of green liquid still clinging to the glass.

“At least we know it hasn’t been
aerosolized.”

“Yeah, it’s not airborne.”

But it didn’t mean it wasn’t deadly.

~  ~  ~  ~

Vanstedum was fervently waiting for
developments when he saw Peter Travis coming into the command bus, he was on
the phone. What the hell was he even doing here anyway? The man wasn’t an
agent, he worked in human resources. He had no business here aside from his
involvement with his dumbass nephew.

“What, Rick? Geez, that’s very thin. Yeah
yeah, Vanst… the Assistant Director is right here.”

The tall man went to him. “What’s going
on?”

“It’s Rick, he needs to speak to you.”

Vanstedum sighed, he didn’t have time for
this shit. It would take longer to argue with him though so he grabbed Travis’s
phone.

“What the hell do you want?”

~  ~  ~  ~

Rick felt a surge of adrenaline as the
senior FBI man’s voice came on the line. He had been pacing through his hotel
room, Olivia not far behind, but he stopped.

Now was his opportunity to make himself
be heard.

“Vanstedum, you’re on a wild goose chase.
Nothing’s going on at the Key Tower.”

“You wanna explain to me what the hell
you’re talking about?”

“I’m telling you…”

“And who told you that, your buddy
Greenwood?”

“Greenwood is not gonna do anything in
Cleveland,” Rick explained again. “He’s somewhere else doing something worse.”

“Okay, hot shot. Then you wanna tell me
why we found the vial you told us about?”

This stopped Rick cold. “What?”

“Yeah, we found it, exactly how you
described it. We’re having the liquid analyzed as we speak over at Cleveland
State.”

This was impossible, it was too easy, too
simple. And nothing about Greenwood was ever simple.

~  ~  ~  ~

A long time passed and Vanstedum was
finally feeling like he was gaining control over the situation. They had a
sample of the bio agent and it had been rushed to the nearby university for
analysis. Also, since they knew that the threat wasn’t airborne they had at
last started to evacuate the building.

They had cops on every floor not only
double checking every water source but also asking workers if they had drunk
anything. Medical personnel were on route to run some tests on them. Now that
Greenwood didn’t seem to be in the vicinity, they could afford to take
precautions.

Vanstedum gave another update to his
superior, assuring him that things were looking up, they had most likely dodged
a bullet by catching it in time. But then there was a commotion at the back of
the bus.

Westerbeck planted himself in the middle
and extended his arms. “You can’t be here.”

Vanstedum came closer to see what was
going on and found Rick forcing his way in. There was a young woman behind him.

“That’s wonderful, kid. You’re making it
easier for me to arrest you.”

Westerbeck moved out of the way, standing
next to Peter Travis on the sidelines. Rick glanced at everyone as if he wanted
their attention.

“Look, you don’t know Greenwood, he’s
smarter than all of us. He’s not doing anything here right now, he’s got bigger
fish to fry. We’re just wasting our time.”

“You keep quiet.”

Olivia stepped forward. “You wouldn’t be
here if it weren’t for Rick.”

“Who the hell is she anyway?” Vanstedum
barked.

“Olivia Mathis, Her Majesty’s Secret
Intelligence Service.”

“British intelligence?”

“Yes, I’ve been dealing with Greenwood
for some time. I’m to make sure this OWL matter is resolved.”

“Not here, you’re not. This is an FBI
matter.”

At the same time, Westerbeck’s phone
rang. He stepped aside to answer, said a few words, and then returned.

“You’re gonna want to hear this, boss. It’s
the lab.”

Vanstedum snatched the phone away from
him and listened. “What? Are you sure? Okay, thank you.” He hung up. “Fuck.”

He gave the phone back to this partner.

“What is it? What’s going on with the
lab?”

“They identified the liquid in the vial.
FD&C yellow 5, FD&C blue 1, and propylene glycol.”

“So? What does that mean?”

“It was nothing but water and green food
coloring.”

Rick half snorted and half chuckled,
feeling vindicated and yet disappointed. “I told you.”

“You shut the hell up,” Vanstedum said,
his face red with anger.

“Like I said, he’s somewhere else, gotta
be.”

The Assistant Director pointed a finger
at him. “I’m tired of your games and–”

Peter stepped between the two men like a
referee.

“Guys, let’s not do this. Rick, where do
you think Greenwood might be then?”

“I don’t know, I…” Rick stopped talking
as he noticed Olivia browsing on her phone. “You have something?”

“Not sure, this is intriguing.”

He went to her and looked over her
shoulder. On a news site there was a headline that read:
G8 meeting not
economic summit, officials say
.

“What is it?” Uncle Peter inquired.

“G8 finance ministers are meeting in
Baltimore today. The media were instructed to downplay it.”

He exchanged gazes with Olivia and
Vanstedum. Nobody could deny that this was a much juicier target than the merger
of two chemical companies.