We All Fall Down (18 page)

CHAPTER 48

We were back around the table, me, Rita, and Vinny DeLuca, drinking coffee and trying not to look at one another. Rodriguez had been on and off the phone for an hour, first with his boss, then the mayor, explaining why the city needed to become a dope dealer. It wasn’t a pretty conversation. It wasn’t supposed to be. But it worked.

“I got you a final shipment,” Rodriguez said, returning to the table, “and we look the other way for six months. But the cops involved go down. And the pipeline into our evidence room is finished.”

“So we’re left to find a new supplier?” DeLuca said with a grimace.

“Only way this happens.”

The crime boss tugged at his lower lip and tried hard not to chuckle. Up until now, they’d paid bent cops for their dope. Now the city was going to give it to them for free. And protect them. Nice deal if you could get it.

“Who will bring the product into the quarantine zone?” DeLuca said.

“I will,” I said. “I’ve been down there once. Can get in and out without a problem.”

“You’re not afraid of this fucking virus or whatever it is?”

“All due respect, that’s not your problem. I’ll get the stuff wherever it needs to be. Now if we have a deal, I’d like to see what we just bought.”

DeLuca curled a finger. Johnny Apple came forward and slid into an empty chair.

“My boys got to the Korean’s shop around three on the day Lee got shot,” Apple said. “Waiting for the cops to show up with the stash.”

“But they’d already made the drop,” I said.

“The Korean misinformed us about the timing,” Apple said with a wince and threw a photo on the table. “An hour or two before Kelly showed, this guy came out of the Korean’s alley.”

I looked at the picture. The man was tall, wearing a long leather coat. He had a black duffel bag with gold trim slung over his shoulder.

“My boys didn’t know whether he’d been in the store,” Apple said. “And didn’t know the Korean was already dead.”

I pointed at the bag in the photo. “You think that’s your shipment?”

“What the fuck do you think?” DeLuca said, and I feared for whoever had made the decision to let the man in the picture walk.

“And you don’t know him?” I said.

“You think we’d be talking to you if we did?”

I slid the photo over to Rodriguez.

“That’s our bag of dope,” the detective said.

“What about the guy?”

Rodriguez shook his head.

“Rita?”

She took a look. “Never saw him.”

I tapped the smudge of a face on the photo. “So this guy pops up out of nowhere. Walks into the Korean’s store. And hijacks your product.”

Johnny Apple nodded, leaving unsaid that two of his men had sat across the street and watched it happen.

“We still don’t know for sure this guy’s involved with the body bags,” Rita said.

“There’s more.” Johnny pulled out two more photos—blowups of the same man walking out of the West Side alley.

“This one here,” Johnny said. “When we blew it up, we saw something hanging from the guy’s coat pocket.”

“Looks like a piece of leather,” Rita said.

“It’s the binding from a gas mask,” I said. “What’s in the other picture?”

“His jacket slipped open right as he stepped off the curb,” Johnny said and pointed. “You can see the outline of a rifle he’s got tucked under there. Looks like it’s hanging from a strap, maybe.”

The three of us pored over the photos. Vinny DeLuca put it together for us.

“The man was prepared when he went into Lee’s store. He had a mask with him, and a rifle.”

“So he knew there’d been a release,” I said.

“Hours before it was announced to the public,” Rita said.

DeLuca nodded. “Paid in full. Now let’s talk about my shipment.”

CHAPTER 49

I slumped behind the desk in my office and watched the streetlights change on Broadway. Rodriguez and Rita sat across from me. The detective pushed back in his chair and looked up at a bronze plaque on the wall. It contained a line of ancient Greek:

“What the hell is that?” Rodriguez said.

“Quote from Heraclitus,” I said. “ ‘Everything changes, nothing remains the same.’ ”

“He’s got that right. This morning I was just a cop. Now you got me pushing dope for the Outfit.”

“Let it go,” Rita said. “At least we’ve got a lead.”

Rodriguez picked up the photo DeLuca had given us. “And how are we gonna ID this guy?”

“Homeland?” Rita said.

Rodriguez shook his head. “I cut a deal with the mayor. Not the feds. We tell them nothing about DeLuca. Or the drugs we’re gonna give him.”

“It’s not a problem,” I said. “We have other pieces to work.”

The detective and his girlfriend crossed their arms in tandem and fell silent, waiting, apparently, for my magical pieces to fall into place. I tapped on my computer and pulled up an e-mail. I’d already read it three times. Now I typed out a few lines in response and closed the window. There was a footfall on the stairs outside. The door to my office squeaked open, and a small shadow crept across the threshold. A small shadow, wearing a small sling.

“Hey.”

“Molly.” I came around the desk and gave her an awkward hug. “Thanks for stopping by.”

“They wanted me to overnight at the hospital, but I needed to get out of there.”

“I bet.”

I pulled up another chair and settled her in. “Molly Carrolton, this is Rita Alvarez from the
Daily Herald
. Detective Vince Rodriguez. Molly’s one of the scientists who’s been tracking the pathogen.”

Vince and Rita shook hands with Molly. I slipped back behind my desk.

“What happened?” Rita said.

“I was shot at this morning. Grazed my arm.”

“Let me guess,” Rodriguez said. “You were with Kelly?”

“Molly was shot at as we rode through a hot zone,” I said.

“What were you riding in?” Rita said.

“An L train.” I pulled out a plastic Baggie and pushed it toward Rodriguez. “I dug out the slug from the wall of the car. Was hoping you could run it against the one we recovered in the Korean’s cellar?”

Rodriguez held the Baggie by his fingertips. “You want to know if the guy in our photo here was also hunting Molly?”

“Or me. Either way, I’d like to know.”

Molly picked up the photo. I watched her face.

“You know that guy?”

She shook her head. “Should I?”

“We think he might be behind the release.”

Molly dropped the photo like it was one of the monsters from her lab. “Who is he?”

“Good question.”

I pulled a second Baggie from my pocket.

“What’s that?” Molly said.

“It’s a cigarette butt.”

“I can see that. Why are you holding it in front of me?”

I told her about the Korean’s cellar. And the body bags I’d found there. And the tall man with the rifle.

“And he’s the man in the photo?” Molly said.

“That’s right.”

“You’re sure?”

“Sure enough.”

“How does the cigarette fit in?”

“When I first walked into the Korean’s cellar that night, I smelled cigarette smoke. I found the butt under the stairs.”

“And you think it belonged to him?”

“It looked fresh. So, yeah, I think it might.”

Molly picked up the Baggie and considered its contents in the speckled light from the street. “If there’s DNA, it will be from saliva trapped in the filter.”

“What are the odds?”

“If I did get a profile, what would you do with it?”

“I’d ask if you could run it through the feds’ system. See if we can put a name to our face.”

Molly stared at the butt. I let her sit with things and turned to Rita. “How about our money angle?”

“Best I can tell, there is no money angle.”

I waited. Rita pouted.

“I told you,” she said. “I’ll give it a try. First thing tomorrow morning.”

“Thanks.”

“Smile,” Rodriguez said. “At least you don’t have to break any laws to help him.”

“I could maybe start DNA extraction tonight,” Molly said. “Gaining access to the feds’ database might not be so easy.”

“Get me a profile,” I said. “Then we’ll worry about the rest.”

Everyone sat for another minute or so. None of them looked particularly thrilled to be there. Or necessarily happy with me. Rodriguez made a move to go. Rita followed suit. I touched Molly’s sleeve.

“Hang a minute.”

We waited until the other two had left.

“You okay for all this?” I said.

“You mean the arm? It’s fine. They told me I could drop the sling tomorrow.”

“Pain?”

“I slept most of the afternoon.” Molly picked up the photo DeLuca had given us and gave it a second look. “I’m gonna need a copy for the database search.”

“You can have that one.”

She tucked the snapshot into her jacket.

“How’s Ellen doing?” I said.

“If you’re asking whether she’ll crack the pathogen, the answer is yes.”

“Where is she now?”

“She should be back at CDA. Why?”

I brushed a key on my computer. “I just got an e-mail from her. Said she needed to talk.”

“That’s not so easy these days.”

“They’re not letting people leave the lab?”

“They’re not letting Ellen leave. At least not without someone from Homeland riding shotgun.”

“She’s that important?”

“You have no idea. Did she say what she wanted?”

“No.”

“I’m headed back there. I’ll talk to her.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“What?”

“Do you trust Ellen?”

A tick of worry worked its way into the corner of Molly’s left eye. “I hope you’re kidding.”

“Do you trust her?”

“With my life. Yours, too.”

I nodded. “You’ll get back to me on the cigarette?”

“If there’s anything there, I’ll find it. And, Michael  … ”

“What?”

“Be careful.”

“What does that mean?”

“The way you talk about Ellen. Just be careful.”

I watched from my windows as Molly left. She threw me a single look from the street, but I knew she couldn’t see into the darkened office. Then she crossed Broadway and disappeared.

I pulled up Ellen Brazile’s e-mail and gave it a final read. It was past six, and I needed to get moving. I shut down my computer, put on my coat, and left.

CHAPTER 50

Ellen Brazile stared at three files open on her computer. The first was the genetic blueprint for a superbug she’d created called Minor Roar. The second file contained a vaccine for Minor Roar. The third spelled out the entire genetic sequence of the Chicago pathogen. Ellen made a call. Jon Stoddard’s voice rang hollow over the speaker.

“You have something?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll be right down.”

“That’s not necessary.”

She’d told Stoddard she needed space. He was more than happy to give it. No one wanted to be the white coat on the hook if the pathogen went truly global. So they’d posted a guard with a gun in the hallway outside her lab and left her alone.

“Talk to me, Ellen.”

“I sent some data to your computer. It’s a DNA blueprint of the pathogen.” She paused. “And a possible vaccine.”

Silence. “How possible?”

“I think it will work.”

“Why am I hearing a ‘but’?”

“Are you alone?”

“Yes.”

Ellen had jotted down some talking points on a piece of paper. Now she balled up the page and threw it in the trash.

“I told you earlier I felt the pathogen acted much like one I’d created in our lab.”

“You told me they were different.”

“They are.”

“I think that’s a more appropriate way to characterize things, don’t you?”

“The pathogen I created is called Minor Roar. I designed it as one of our nightmare scenarios—the virulent properties of anthrax and Ebola, altered slightly and embedded in the infrastructure of a flu virus.”

“Theoretically, shortening its incubation period and rendering it capable of airborne transmission.”

“That’s right. If Minor Roar had been released in its original form, the death total would already be north of ten thousand. This strain, while related, seems to require much closer, more intimate human contact for transmission.”

“Which is why we have only a few hundred dead?”

“I think so. Yes.”

“So we can contain this thing?”

“I created a vaccine for Minor Roar. With some modifications, it might provide a measure of protection.”

Stoddard paused. “How long until we can have it online?”

“Three months, minimum. Until then we keep the sick in isolation and slowly pare down the infected areas.”

“What about those already infected?”

“Anyone infected is dead, Jon.”

Another pause. “You realize we’re heroes, Ellen.”

“Five hundred people dead is not the work of a hero. Besides, we got lucky. Extraordinarily lucky.”

“It’s not luck, Ellen. It’s you. Your work, the work of our lab, have been able to stop what might have been a global pandemic  … ”

“I harvested most of the pathogen’s DNA from the blood they drew from my sister’s body.”

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s nice.” Ellen looked down at her hands and wondered when they got so old. Stoddard’s voice came down the wire.

“Ellen  … ”

“I’ll begin outlining protocols for manufacture of the vaccine.”

“Heroes, Ellen.”

She cut the line and clicked on the genetic readout for Minor Roar. Ellen stared at the constellation of chromosomes floating on her computer screen, then pulled up some data on infection rates for the last six hours.

There was a noise outside. Ellen walked to the door and glanced down the hallway. It was dark, the only illumination a cluster of security lights at either end of the hall. Ellen looked for her guard, but he was gone. She went back inside and pulled out the travel bag she’d packed. Then she opened the bottom drawer of her desk and took out the small revolver she kept there.

They’d be waiting downstairs. Or somewhere. Staring at her like their god. Until she gave them what they wanted. Then she’d be their lamb, marked and left for slaughter.

Ellen stuck the gun in her bag, slung it over her shoulder, and left.