Vaccine Nation (10 page)

“My ex-boyfriend, James. Before I left this morning he told me to make sure I bought a few of them.”

“Your ex is helping you out? Doesn’t sound like it’s resolved yet.”

“I had no place to go, and I trust James more than anyone, except Mom.”

Richard nodded. “Here,” he said, extending his hand, “give me that, I’ll take care of it for you.” Dani handed him the cell phone, then reached into the bag and pulled out the other three. He laughed. “You aren’t taking any chances, are you?”

“I can’t afford to.” His laughter faded; he must’ve seen her narrowed eyes and noted the gravity in her voice. Dani looked into the aisle and saw a man pass her walking forward. She got a jolt of adrenaline.
It couldn’t be.
The man’s head was shaved, but she thought she recognized that acne-scarred face. He took his time, moving his head from left to right as he walked, appearing to be looking for someone.
Oh my God, looking for me?
She wasn’t sure, but it looked like the killer. He had the same body type, the same exaggerated way of holding his shoulders and head. He’d stood in front of her, checked his gun and said, “Where is it?”

She clutched Richard’s forearm. “I think I just saw the man.”

“What man?”

Dani mouthed the words, “The killer.”

“Are you sure?”

“No. He had curly blonde hair before. Now his head is shaved. I didn’t get a good look at his face, but he was walking deliberately, looking from side to side as if he was checking the seats for someone.”

“Where is he?”

“He just left our car.”

“What does he look like?”

“Big. Powerful. Muscular. If it’s him, his face is covered with acne scars.”

She saw Richard’s jaw clench. “If it’s him, he’ll be back. And this time he’ll get a good look at you. If I recognized you from your photograph in the
Times,
he’ll recognize you, too.”

Dani knew she was panicking. She looked down at her hands, saw they were shaking. She bent forward as far as she could and took a few deep breaths, trying to get her brain to start working again. She sat up and exhaled, then felt a blast like her mind was on fire. The man had just entered their car and was working his way down the aisle. She turned to Richard. “It’s him.” She kissed him, pressing her lips to his as hard as she could, throwing her arms around him. She felt her breath coming in gasps, but still didn’t release him. She wasn’t counting, didn’t know how long she held him there, until finally he pulled away and sat up, holding her head in his lap.

“I saw him,” he whispered. “I didn’t get a good look. But that face was hard to miss. Blue eyes, right?”

Dani felt a chill run up her back.

“It’s at least fifteen minutes to Wilmington before we can get off the train,” Richard said.

Oh my God!

Stark was pissed. The girl was getting to be a real pain in the ass. He’d been through the train in both directions and still hadn’t found her. It was unlikely she’d gotten off in Philadelphia; he made sure he was the last person to get on the train and hadn’t seen her on the platform. Either she’d changed her appearance more than his professional eyes could pick up, which was unlikely, or she was jumping from restroom to restroom. He stopped between two cars, the racket of the wheels on the rails in his ears, the heat and dust assaulting him, and pulled the cell phone out of his pocket. He felt like an asshole. “Yes?” the client said.

“I’ll take you up on your offer after all. Where’s your man on the train?”

A pause. Stark was waiting for an “I told you so” tone in the client’s voice, but when he spoke it was all business. “Second car from the rear, blue suit, six feet, about two hundred-twenty pounds. Ask him if he’s Tom, going to the rally tomorrow.”

“Right.” Stark hung up. The less said the better.

It took him two minutes to find the man. The guy was wearing a blue suit, rep tie and reading a
Wall Street Journal.
Like he was some corporate department head on the way to get his ass chewed in Washington by top management. The guy nodded at Stark, got out of his seat and smoothed his suit, took Stark forward. The girl was gone, as was the guy the PI said was seated next to her. The PI pointed toward the front of the train.

Richard followed Dani forward, carrying his briefcase, trailing his roller suitcase behind him, feeling his pulse in his temples. If that freaky-looking guy behind them was really the killer, this was a pretty lame way to try to escape. But at the moment he couldn’t think of anything else to do. Pull the emergency brake?
No.
That would immobilize the train. Call the police?
It wouldn’t do a damn thing.
They were still 12 minutes out from Wilmington. As they entered another car, Richard saw an awkward teen coming down the aisle, flopping his hands and mumbling to himself.

Dani knelt down and spoke to the boy, seeming to understand what was wrong with him. The kid kept mouthing nonsense syllables. Dani stroked his arm. Richard could see a woman who’d just entered the car through the far door trotting down
the aisle, alarmed. Probably the kid’s mother. Dani turned the kid toward the woman, who put her hands on the boy’s shoulders and spun him the rest of the way toward her. “Thank you,” she said to Dani. She turned and started forward with the boy.

“He’s what they call a ‘runner,’ “ Dani said to Richard. “I’ll explain later.”

They walked forward to the front car. “Now what?” Dani asked.

Richard motioned to the restroom. Dani ducked into it. Richard sat down in the 3 x 2 facing seats. The mother and the weird kid were seated in front of him. “What’s wrong?” the mother asked.

Richard wondered why she even cared, then figured she was grateful to Dani. “There’s a PI hired by her estranged husband on the train stalking her. We’re trying to dodge him until we can get off in Wilmington.”

“That acne-scarred man who keeps walking back and forth?”

“Yes.” That same man, followed by another, entered the car. Richard widened his eyes at the woman, who nodded back. He felt his chest heaving. What would the killer do? If he identified Dani, would he shoot her? If he decided Richard was helping Dani, would he shoot him too? Richard reached into his briefcase between his legs and pulled out his laptop, pretending to boot it up to work.
Stay cool,
he told himself.
Like brinksmanship in the last round of a negotiation.
The men walked forward. Richard exhaled. He saw them reach the front of the car and turn around. He turned back to his computer, still hearing his pulse throbbing in his ears.

Richard heard the two men approach again. The acnescarred guy tried the restroom door. The mother stood up. “My son is in there, and he’s autistic. Please don’t frighten him,” she
said. The guy looked over at her son in the seat, flopping his arms and mumbling. He motioned toward the door of the car. He and the other man stepped into the space between the cars. They spoke for a minute. The acne-scarred man walked toward the rear, the other man hanging out between the cars. The woman pulled down her suitcase from the luggage rack, removed some clothing out of the suitcase, then walked to the door of the restroom and knocked.

“Charles, it’s your mother. I have your clothes. Please open the door.” A moment later the door opened and she handed in the clothing. Five minutes later Dani emerged, dressed as a boy, hunched over, her hair wetted to her head, wearing sunglasses and a Yankees cap. She sat down next to Richard, rocking in the seat like the mother’s son.

“God bless you, Dani,” the mother said, “we’re all behind you.”

When Wilmington was announced, Richard stood up, trying to act as normal as possible. The man who’d accompanied the killer still stood in the space between the cars. Richard forced himself not to make eye contact with him. He asked himself why he was risking his life for Dani. He looked at her now, standing next to him, hunched over, flopping her hands. The train stopped and the door opened. Richard got off, squinting in the bright sunlight, smelling the tarmac of the platform baking in the heat. Dani shuffled onto the platform beside him. Richard took her by the arm and headed toward the taxi stand. He kept his eyes focused forward, acting like he knew exactly where he was going, what he was doing. But he had no idea of either.

Stark felt the train slowing and moved forward again. Passengers were reaching into the overhead racks to pull out their bags, and he had to jostle past a number of them. The train had stopped for a minute by the time he reached the client’s PI waiting in the space between the first and second cars. “Anything?” he said to the PI.

The guy shook his head.

Stark felt his stomach muscles tighten. This little bitch was really getting to be a pain in the ass. She had to still be on the train. He opened the door into the first car, looked at the seats by the restroom. The mother and that goofy kid were still there, but the guy was gone. Stark spun back to look out the window as he felt the train starting to move. He saw the guy walking down the platform, pulling a scrawny kid in a Yankees cap by the arm. He looked closer. He turned to the PI. “You fucking moron. That’s her, dressed as a kid.”

D
ANI CHANGED BACK INTO HER
own clothes in the restroom at a Hertz agency in Wilmington while Richard rented a car.
Unreal!
This nightmare that had started the day before wouldn’t go away. The sight of those blue eyes and that scarred face kept forcing themselves into her brain. Her breathing didn’t return to normal until they were on Route 95 heading to Washington in the Ford Taurus.

“I don’t know what to say except thank you for getting me out of there,” Dani said.

“I can’t quite believe I’m doing this myself,” Richard said, “but I couldn’t just leave you there.”

“That man is frightening, isn’t he?”

“Twelve on a scale often. When I was sitting outside the restroom and he was jiggling the door handle it hit me how crazy this whole thing is. I said to myself, ‘if we get out of here alive we’re going to the police.’ “ He looked over at Dani. “Do you agree?”

“My position on that hasn’t changed. They’re still after me, too.”

“You need protective custody.”

“I’m afraid I’m getting framed, and I don’t know whatever else they’ve done to make that stick. Also, whoever hired that killer can figure out how to get to me even if I’m in protective custody. And I’m not sure the killer isn’t a cop himself.”

“So what will you do?”

“Get to Washington and try and figure out who’s behind Maguire’s murder, and why. I still think whatever’s on that flash drive is the answer.”

“Go public with it. If you think the industry doesn’t want it exposed, expose it.”

“You’re forgetting that I don’t know what the data means.”

“Yes, but if you put it out there, someone may come forward who can explain it.”

“I’ll be in a stronger position if I can figure out what the data means first. I still have a day and a half before the vaccine hearings. If I can’t figure it out before I run out of time, I’ll release it.”

“You might run out of time before that. What if that guy catches up with you again? He knows where you’re going.”

“Washington’s a big town. How’s he going to find me?”

“How the hell did he find you on that train?”

Dani felt a chill. She didn’t have an answer. The only person who knew she was headed to Washington was James, and it was out of the question that he would tell anyone. Even the police, if they’d contacted him. She hadn’t told McCloskey she was going to Washington, but he could have concluded that from their conversation. She felt a bolt of alarm. What if they had gotten to McCloskey? “Oh my God.”

“What’s wrong?” Richard said.

“I need to make a phone call.” Dani pulled out one of the cell phones, checked McCloskey’s number on her BlackBerry and dialed.

A man picked up on the first ring. “Hello?”

“John?”

“No, Mr. McCloskey isn’t available. Who’s this?”

Dani felt herself clench. “What’s wrong?” The man didn’t answer. “Who is this?”

“Miss, I need to know your name. This is police detective Richard Nolan.” Dani threw her head back.
Oh no!
The homicide detective from yesterday morning. “Is John all right?”

“Miss, I need to know your name.” Dani hung up. She stared at the phone as if it could tell her this wasn’t real.

“What’s wrong?” Richard asked.

Dani took a deep breath. She forced back tears. “I just called John McCloskey’s apartment, because I thought he might have told them I was coming to Washington. The man who answered was the homicide detective who interviewed me in my office yesterday after David Maguire’s murder. McCloskey was friends with Maguire—introduced me to him. I think they killed him, too.”

“Holy shit,” Richard said under his breath.

Dani’s hands shook. She thought about Gabe, saw an image of him running, terrified, from someone. She dialed her mother’s cell phone number.

“Dani, I’ve been worried sick. Why haven’t you called?”

“It’s a long story, but I’m okay. How is Gabe?”

“He’s fine. He’s out on the dock, fishing.”

“I’m worried about him, about all of you. Is Jack with you?”

“Yes. We’re all fine. Where are you?”

“In a car on the way to Washington.”

“Why on earth are you going there?”

“To try and figure out what’s happening to me. But that’s not important now. I’m worried that the people who are after me may come after Gabe, even you and Jack. Please tell me you won’t go anywhere else, and that you’ll stay out of sight.”

“Not easy. I can’t very well keep Gabe locked up inside the house, particularly not without the TV, which I told him is broken so he won’t catch a news report about you by mistake. And if you’re in danger I can’t see why you still refuse to go to the police.”

Dani raised her voice. “We’ve already been through that. I’m not going to discuss it again. Please tell Gabe I love him and I miss him and I’ll try and speak with him later. Goodbye.” Dani hung up before Mom could respond. She could feel her heart knocking.

James.
Would they know she’d stayed at his apartment? Or would they go to him anyhow? She needed to warn him. She dialed his cell.

“Are you okay?” he said.

“Yes. I’m still on the way to Washington. Are you alright?”

“Yes, why?”

Dani cringed as she said, “I think they killed John McCloskey.”

James was silent.

Dani said, “I’m worried about you, too.”

He still didn’t respond.

“Please be careful,” Dani said.

“I will. But I’m more worried about you. Please keep me posted.”

They hung up. Dani shuddered, felt her throat start to well up.
Oh, James.
She’d never forgive herself if she’d put him in danger.

Richard said, “We’re about two hours away from Washington. What’s your plan?”

“Before we left the car agency I left a voicemail for a friend of mine, Denise Wildman, who’s a vaccine safety advocate. She’s in Washington for the hearings. She knows everybody in politics
and everybody in the movement. I’ll call her again when we get closer to DC. She may have some ideas. It’s at least a start.”

“You don’t even have a place to stay, do you?”

“No.”

“You can stay with me at the Willard.” He looked at her. “I can have housekeeping bring up a cot.”

Dani thought to protest, but decided that was dumb. Richard had already proven himself a cool head in a crisis. She needed the help, and if he was willing, fine.

They rode in silence for a while. Eventually Richard said, “That kid on the train. What did you call him?”

“A runner. He’s autistic. Some of them take off whenever they get the chance. It’s like compulsive behavior. Runners will wander out into traffic without any recognition of danger.”

“That kid was in his teens.”

“Yes. His mother has her work cut out for her. For the rest of her life. He probably started out as a happy, normal baby, then got shot up with vaccines until his system couldn’t handle it anymore, then regressed to the point you saw him. I’ve seen so much of it. Normal child. Routine vaccines. Loss of speech, then total regression. Heartbreak.”

“How do you know so much about it?”

“My new documentary is about autism.”

Her words took Dani back to the middle of last week. She sat in her office at 9:00 p.m., watching footage of the previous days’ shooting on her new autism documentary. She smelled the scent of plastic wafting off the Sony HD-VSX 201 camera, hot from hours of playback, the camera feeding the video through a USB cable into the video monitor. She realized the whole room was warm. Heat streaming off the monitor, heat from the camera, heat coming out of her ears from what she was seeing in the footage.

Tammy, Jennifer Knox’s two-year-old daughter, was on the screen. Dani felt an ache creep over her heart like someone was pouring raw anguish over her chest. Tammy’s eyes were fixated on nothing, her mouth slightly agape, her tiny body rocking. This was the angel of Jennifer’s family, the first grandchild of her generation. She heard audio of Jennifer’s voice over the footage of Tammy. “She was a giggling, running, chattering presence that brought joy to the whole family since her birth. Until that music stopped after Tammy had four routine vaccinations in one day, then withdrew into herself. She lost her speech and her ability to respond.”

Jennifer’s face came on the screen. “It was as if Tammy’s personality was sucked out of her overnight.” Dani leaned forward. If Tammy herself didn’t give Dani her answer as to why she was plunging into the new film, certainly Jennifer’s eyes did. The shattered dreams, the stamp of agony, the despair at the injustice were all written there. Dani’s eyes welled with tears. She closed them so the tears wouldn’t come. Then she exhaled and opened them again, forced herself to watch. Something this awful and inexplicable needed to be stopped.

Richard’s voice brought her back to the moment. “And you think it’s all the pharmaceutical industry’s fault, don’t you?”

“I’m convinced vaccines have a major role in the autism epidemic.”

“But you don’t have any proof, do you?”

“Nobody does. The pharmaceutical industry refuses to do the research. All it does is deny.”

“Sorry, but I don’t think you’re right.”

“How many studies can you point to that the industry’s done to test the safety of vaccines after they’ve been approved? Ongoing research to monitor, catalog and analyze side effects?”
When Richard didn’t answer, she said. “But that didn’t keep Congress from granting the industry Congressional immunity from lawsuits from the parents of damaged children. That’s what these latest hearings are all about. Congress is considering revoking the industry’s immunity from lawsuits. That’s what you guys are really scared of, isn’t it?”

Richard glanced at her. “You’re pretty aggressive coming after someone who just risked his skin to save your ass, and offered you a room, aren’t you? What’s this ‘you guys’ shit?”

Dani leaned back in her seat, exhaled. He had a point: it didn’t take much to get her going on the subject of vaccines. And he had possibly saved her life earlier. “I’m sorry,” she said. “You have no reason to go out of your way for me the way you have. I just can’t help being angry. Angry at everything that’s happened to me for the last day and a half. Angry at the drug companies. I fought DYFS in New Jersey for three years to keep them from drugging my son, Gabe, because some idiot school nurse diagnosed him as ADHD.”

Richard kept his focus on the road. “Sounds like you’ve done a good job hanging onto that anger.”

“You’re damn right. It’s one of the things that keeps me making films. And after the last thirty-six hours, obviously that anger isn’t misplaced.”

They rode in silence for a while. Eventually Richard said, “We’re unusual bedfellows, don’t you think?”

Dani looked at him. Who was this man? Yes, they were on opposite sides of the battle, but here he was, believing enough in her to help her.
Why?

Dani said, “I’ve been trying to figure out who might be after me, and who killed Maguire, the cop in my apartment, and maybe McCloskey. The only thing that makes any sense is it’s
someone from the industry. And Maguire worked for Pharma International.”

“You’re not going to start in on ‘you guys’ again, are you?”

“I already said I’m sorry.” Dani placed her hand on Richard’s shoulder. “I meant it.”

“I’ve known Grover Madsen for over five years now. I did my first deal with him when I sold a company my partner and I controlled to Braxton Pharmaceuticals when Madsen was CEO, before their merger with Pharma International. He’s a no-bullshit guy, a straight shooter.”

“And he’s CEO of the country’s biggest drug company.”

“He’s as committed to his position on the benefits of vaccines and drugs as you seem to be opposed to them.”

Dani scowled.

“I’ve seen his softer side. He’s a father who adores his daughter. I can’t imagine him allowing murder.”

“What if the person who hired the killer is someone inside the company and he doesn’t know about it?”

“Anything’s possible.”

“What if you don’t really know Madsen as well as you think you do?”

“Possible, but you’re talking about multiple murders, and possibly a conspiracy to cover up information damaging to the industry.”

“Maybe it’s the industry as a group. They’ve got this association where they talk about issues, don’t they? All the CEOs get together once a quarter to plan PR strategy, talk about political contributions, scheme about dirty tricks to foster their agenda. Like the tobacco companies did before they got socked with that antitrust judgment.”

He considered. “Yes, they’ve got an industry association, like any other. But I think you’re going overboard in how you’re characterizing it. Again, you’re talking about murder and conspiracy. Do you really think the CEOs would map that out?”

“Somebody did. I count three dead bodies so far, and I’ve narrowly escaped from that butt-ugly killer twice. And I’ve got this flash drive in my pocket that was handed to me by a man who was shot dead in front of me.” She paused. “Who’s the head of the industry association?”

“Grover Madsen.”

“Desperate people do desperate things.”

“Who’s desperate?”

“What would happen to the industry—hell, forget about the industry—what would happen to Pharma International, or to Madsen himself if the industry was to lose its immunity from lawsuits for the vaccine program. Or if information was exposed that linked vaccines to damaged children? Or to autism? I’d say that would make him desperate.”

“You’re making a leap without any facts.”

“David Maguire worked on vaccines and knew my next documentary was on autism. That’s what I wanted to interview him about. He gives me this data and gets murdered because of it. Doesn’t that at least make you a little suspicious?”

“It certainly raises some questions.”

“And if that scenario was true, wouldn’t it give Grover Madsen all the reason in the world to act?”

“You’re making a very big assumption that Grover Madsen is a sociopath.”

“Worse. The Dark Side of the Force.”

Richard didn’t respond. He kept driving.