“I don’t have any conference to go to,” one of the other women offered. “I’m available.” More laughter erupted.
Jack opened his satchel and took out the bottle with the ellipse of Connie’s skin.
“Oh, drat,” Maureen moaned. “It doesn’t look like a social call.”
Jack smiled. “On this visit all I’m looking for are some slides from this skin sample, but tomorrow is another day.”
“Hear that, girls?” Maureen called out.
A chorus of enthusiastic “yeses” rang out.
Maureen took Jack’s sample bottle and handed it off to the nearest technician. “Consider it done,” she said to Jack. “What kind of stains?”
“Just the usual,” Jack said. “I want to make sure the pathology is trauma, not infection.”
“When do you need it?”
“The sooner the better,” Jack said.
“Why do I bother asking?” Maureen said while tilting her head back as if talking to God.
Jack left the histology lab and started down the corridor. As he approached Laurie’s office, he could see that her light was on. Veering into her doorway, he stopped. Seated inside were Laurie and Lou. Neither was talking, but rather they were staring off in different directions. The atmosphere was tense.
“Is this a wake?” Jack asked.
Laurie and Lou looked up. Laurie was plainly irritated. Lou was obviously contrite.
“Partners in crime, I hear,” Laurie snapped when she caught sight of Jack.
Jack raised his hands. “I surrender. What’s the crime?”
“I told her about Paul Sutherland’s sheet,” Lou confessed. “And I told her that you knew.”
“I see,” Jack said. “And as we feared the messenger is getting blamed.”
“Now don’t you start supporting him,” Laurie said. “He wasn’t supposed to be snooping like that. I certainly didn’t ask him to.”
“I suppose that’s true,” Jack said. “But under the circumstances, I think you should know your future husband’s line of work.”
“What do you mean, ‘line of work’?” Laurie questioned with renewed anger. “What on earth are you implying?”
“I only told her about the cocaine possession,” Lou explained.
“Uh oh,” Jack said. He swallowed uncomfortably.
“Paul does not deal in drugs,” Laurie said indignantly. “If that’s what you are implying.”
“Can I come in?” Jack asked.
“You’d better,” Laurie snapped. “And you’d better explain yourself.”
Jack pulled over a chair and sat next to Lou. He looked Laurie in the eye. She stared back defiantly.
“Paul Sutherland is an arms dealer,” Jack said. Laurie’s blue-green eyes swept back and forth between Jack and Lou. “How do you know that?” she demanded in a voice that had lost a shade of its anger.
“Lou found that out at the same time he found out about the cocaine possession,” Jack said.
Lou nodded guiltily. He looked down at his hands in his lap.
“What do I care if he’s an arms dealer?” Laurie said airily, trying to make it sound as if it didn’t matter.
Neither Jack nor Lou responded. Knowing Laurie as well as they did, they weren’t fooled.
“What kind of arms?” Laurie asked.
“At the moment I’m not sure,” Lou said. “But as recently as 1994 he specialized in AK-47 assault rifles of Bulgarian manufacture.”
The color drained from Laurie’s face.
“Lou and I argued about who should tell you this,” Jack said. “But one way or the other, we thought you should know, given your feelings about gun control.”
Laurie nodded, sighed, and looked off. Jack wasn’t sure if she was angry or sad or both. For a full minute no one spoke. Finally, Laurie broke the silence: “Thank you, gentlemen, for discharging your civic duty. I’ve been informed. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a lot of work to catch up on.”
Jack exchanged a glance with Lou. They both got to their feet and put their chairs back where they thought they should go. They said their goodbyes, but Laurie didn’t respond. She’d already pulled the contents of one of her uncompleted cases from its file folder and seemed to be absorbed in it.
The two men walked down the hall toward Jack’s office. They didn’t speak until they thought Laurie couldn’t hear.
“I was going to congratulate you on your courage in talking to Laurie,” Jack said, “until I realized you’d cleverly engineered it so that I had to spill the real beans.”
“Thank God you arrived,” Lou said. “She was making me feel like dirt, which wasn’t hard, since I was already questioning my own motives.”
“I still think it was the best thing for Laurie,” Jack said, “even if there’s a chance we did it for ourselves as well as for her.”
“I suppose I can try to look at it like that,” Lou said without enthusiasm.
“Listen, you got a moment? I want to tell you about a case.”
Lou glanced at his watch. “As late as I am, I suppose another half hour doesn’t matter.”
“It won’t take that long,” Jack said.
Jack preceded Lou into his office and snapped on his light. “Where the hell is Chet? I haven’t seen him since this morning. It’s not like him to just disappear.”
Lou sat down while Jack picked up a sheet of paper from the center of his desk.
“Hmmm,” Jack voiced after reading the note. “This is from Ted Lynch, the DNA guru. It seems that the tiny blue star from the Corinthian Rug Company office was heavily contaminated with anthrax spores. Considering the surface area, he estimates that there wouldn’t be room for one more spore. Now that’s curious.”
“What does it mean?” Lou asked.
“Beats me,” Jack said. He tossed the paper onto his desk. “I suppose it’s telling me something, but I haven’t the foggiest notion what it is. It sounds almost as if the star had been dropped into a bowl of anthrax.”
“Let’s hear about this case you wanted to tell me about,” Lou said.
Jack told the story of Connie Davydov. Lou listened intently and smiled about the part involving the funeral home. “Had Warren ever been in that kind of place before?” Lou questioned. Lou knew Warren through Jack.
Jack shook his head.
“He must have squirmed when he had to see the guy getting embalmed.”
“He said it was the worst experience of his life.”
“I can imagine,” Lou said.
“But it couldn’t be helped,” Jack said. “I needed him there to intimidate the funeral director. Actually, I’m surprised I got away with doing what I did.”
“Why are you telling me this story now?” Lou questioned. “Can I help somehow?”
“I’m wondering if you can do something about the body,” Jack said. “I’ve no idea what the plans are concerning embalming or cremation, but I’d like it to stay intact. I’d really like to do a full postmortem. Is there a way you could intervene?”
“Not without some involvement of this office,” Lou said.
“That’s what I was afraid of,” Jack said. “Well, no harm in asking. I’m going to wait around tonight for the results of the assay. If it’s positive for some kind of poison or overdose, I’ll give you a call.”
“I’ll be available via my cell phone,” Lou said. He stood up and took a few steps into the hall. He looked down toward Laurie’s office. “Do you think I should go back and say anything to our friend?”
“I think we’ve said about all we could,” Jack said. “Now she’s got to mull it over and decide its importance.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Lou said. “See you around.”
“Take care,” Jack said.
Jack straightened some of the piles of uncompleted case folders that stood on his desk. He hung up his jacket behind the door, then sat down to work. Having been out of the office the last two afternoons, he was more behind than usual.
&n
bsp; __________
FOURTEEN
Tuesday, October 19
6:30 P.M.
Curt turned onto Oceanview Lane. Although it wasn’t quite dark yet, he switched on his headlights because of the deep shadows within the confines of the narrow roadway. Just like the night before, there were multiple trash cans littering the pavement’s periphery. He pulled up alongside Yuri’s garage and cut both the lights and the engine.
“I’m happy with everything we’ve decided except the idea of giving this Commie a gun,” Steve said. “I have to tell you, I don’t like it.”
“What the hell choice do we have?” Curt complained. “I told you, he’s terrified of his brother-in-law. The guy threatened to kill him.”
“I know what you told me,” Steve said. “But as weird as Yuri’s been acting and the crazy stuff he’s been saying, like all that bullshit about this being a rootless culture, I tell you, I don’t like him having a gun. Especially not one of ours. What if he turns it on us?”
“He’s not going to turn it on us,” Curt said irritably. “For crissake, we’re the only friends he’s got. Besides, he probably couldn’t hit a barn from inside. And you’ve got your gun, right?”
“Of course,” Steve said.
“Well, I’ve got mine, too,” Curt said. “There’s no way you and I couldn’t handle one tubby little Russian. Come on! Let’s get this over with!”
The two men got out of the truck. They met at the front and started for Yuri’s door. Curt was carrying a brown paper bag.
“The main thing is we have to keep him working in the lab,” Curt said. “If it takes giving him a gun, so be it. We’re so close. We can’t let Operation Wolverine die on the vine because Yuri’s scared of his nigger brother-in-law.”
“But if he’s got a gun, he might be harder for the troops to handle,” Steve said.
Curt pulled his partner to a stop. “You think one Glock automatic is going to make a difference against a half-dozen Kalashnikovs? Come on! Be serious!”
“I guess not,” Steve said.
“Of course not,” Curt said. “Right after we take possession of our part of the anthrax powder and get it safely back to the White Pride, we’ll send in the troops. Glock or no Glock, the mission will be over in five seconds. Hell, we’ll tell ‘em to burn this freaking place down in the process.”
“Okay, you’re right,” Steve said. “I just want to be sure. The more I’ve thought about it, the more I don’t want him spraying anthrax around Central Park.”
“I feel the same,” Curt said. “Clearly it’s not a military objective like the Jacob Javits Federal Building.”
“And it bugged me when he was carrying on about how many more casualties his plan would cause than ours. I don’t buy it. Hell, the federal building’s HVAC vents outside. Not only are we going to knock out the entire building, the anthrax will spread around that whole section of the city.”
“Damn straight,” Curt said. “It’ll vector east toward the courthouses. I mean, is that not perfect or what?”
“It couldn’t be any better,” Steve agreed.
“Once we give the word to the troops, Yuri’s a dead man,” Curt said. “You know that. End of story.”
Steve nodded. They recommenced walking.
“I don’t see any lights on inside,” Curt said as they reached the door. He had to squint in the glare of an exterior carriage lamp mounted to the left of the jamb. “He better the hell be here!”
Curt pulled open the torn screen door and rapped loudly against the inner door. It opened almost immediately. Yuri peered out from the inner gloom.
“Thank goodness,” Yuri said with relief. “Come in!”
Curt and Steve filed past the Russian but found themselves in darkness, still momentarily blinded by the bright outdoor light.
“What the hell have you been doing in here?” Curt questioned. “I can’t see my hand in front of my face.”
“Sorry,” Yuri said as he scurried to turn on a lamp next to the couch. “I was afraid Connie’s brother might show up before you got here, and I wanted it to look like no one was home.”
“That’s better,” Curt said when he could see.
“Can I get you men some iced vodka?” Yuri asked.
“I think I’ll pass,” Curt said.
“Same with me,” Steve said.
“Did you bring the gun?” Yuri questioned.
“Sure, I got it,” Curt said. He held up the bag. “But let’s talk first.”
“Okay,” Yuri said. “Do you mind if I get some vodka for myself?”
“Not at all,” Curt said.
While Yuri went to the kitchen, Curt and Steve sat down. Curt took the couch while Steve sat in one of two straight-back chairs. They left the other for Yuri so that he would be more or less between them.
“It’s amazing to think of what’s going to come out of this trashy hellhole’s basement,” Curt whispered. “Just the thought of it gives me a rush.”
“I know what you mean,” Steve whispered back. “Like Christ being born in a stable, extraordinary things can come from lowly surroundings. This bioweapon is probably going to change the world.”
“Let’s content ourselves with saving the country,” Curt responded.
With glass in hand, Yuri joined the others. He sat down in the empty chair.
“What would you like to talk about?” Yuri asked. He took a sip of his drink and relished its taste. Despite some recent misgivings about his relationship with his guests, he was happy and relieved they were there.
“With all these unexpected problems that have been popping up, we’ve decided things have to be speeded up,” Curt said. “Like we told you last night, we’re worried about security. After talking about it all day, we’ve decided we want to schedule the event for Friday. So, we want our half of the anthrax powder Thursday night. That’s two days from now.”
“This is very sudden,” Yuri said. He was visibly shocked. The plan had been to wait until he had enough of the bio-weapon before they’d plan the actual day of release.
“Maybe so,” Curt said. “But we feel strongly that this is the way it has to be.”
“It’s going to be difficult,” Yuri said. His eyes darted nervously back and forth between Curt and Steve. “Both lay-downs need at least four or five pounds for maximum effect.”
“That means we want at least four and preferably five pounds Thursday night,” Curt said. “This is not a discussion. Am I making myself clear?”
“I don’t know what to say,” Yuri stammered.
“Just say, ‘Fine, Curt: just come by and I’ll have it ready for you.’You originally told us it would be sealed in clear plastic and look like large sausages. Is that still the case?”
“Yes,” Yuri said. He took a sip from his glass and his hand trembled.
“And it’s safe to handle in that form,” Curt said. “I mean without a hazmat suit.”
“Unless the plastic breaks,” Yuri said. “The sausages will be heat-sealed and their outsides will be decontaminated.”
“How tough is this plastic?” Curt asked. “Like if we happened to drop one of the sausages, would that be a problem?”
“I haven’t tested that,” Yuri admitted. “But I wouldn’t advise dropping it or sticking it with anything. Under ideal conditions each one of these sausages will be capable of killing up to a hundred thousand people.”
“How many pounds do you have now?” Curt asked.
“I’m not sure,” Yuri said.
“Last night you said you might have enough by the end of the week,” Curt reminded him. “So you must have an idea. I mean, Thursday night is pretty close to the end of the week.”
“I did another harvest this morning,” Yuri said. “I didn’t weigh it.”
“So you’re close,” Curt said.
“Yes, I’m close,” Yuri said. He nodded a few times as if agreeing with himself before taking a deep breath and exhaling through pursed lips. It was like he’d b
een under stress but was now able to relax. He gestured with his glass toward both Curt and Steve as if he was giving a toast and then took another, larger slug of his drink. He held the vodka in his mouth for a moment before swallowing as if it was fine wine.
“What about the second fermenter?” Steve asked. “Have you converted it to anthrax?”
“Yes, this morning,” Yuri said.
“How is it going?” Curt asked.
“Extremely well,” Yuri said. He managed a smile. “It’s growing much better than the Clostridium botulinum. In fact I was amazed when I checked just a few minutes before you arrived. I’ll be able to harvest an entire batch this evening.”
“We could steal you another fermenter tonight,” Steve suggested. “If that could help.”
“There’s no need,” Yuri said with a wave of his free hand. “Not with the second one running. Now that I’ve had a chance to think, I’m sure I’ll be able to make delivery Thursday night.”
“Really?” Curt questioned.
“Absolutely,” Yuri said.
“You weren’t so sure just a few moments ago,” Curt said.
“I wasn’t,” Yuri admitted. “Not until Steve reminded me of the second fermenter. With it running like it is, I’ll be able to have at least ten pounds, maybe even a bit more if I work nonstop.”
“Is there any reason you can’t do that?” Curt asked.
“No,” Yuri said. “I just won’t drive the cab.”
“There is one more thing we want you to do before tomorrow night,” Curt said.
Yuri’s face, which had recently assumed a smile, reverted to a troubled expression.
“Now, don’t get upset,” Curt said, noticing the change in Yuri’s demeanor. “This is an easy request: at least easy for you. I’d like you to write down how you’ve created this anthrax powder. Since you’ll be back in Russia, we’re going to have to find someone else if we want to stage an encore.”
Yuri’s smile returned. He nodded. “Sure, I can do that. In fact I’ll be happy to do it.”
“Perfect!” Curt said. He smiled to himself before picking up the paper bag from the couch and handing it across to Yuri. As Yuri accepted the parcel, Curt’s other hand slipped behind to grasp the butt of his own pistol nestled in its holster in the small of his back. Unbeknownst to Yuri, who was happily opening the package, Steve did the same with his gun.