Reckless Creed

  Last, she pulled on one of Dr. Robins’s long white lab coats, then stared at herself in the mirror. She ruffled her fingers through her short hair, leaving some of it to stand on end, looking more chic than tousled. Even without makeup, the tight-knit sweater and smooth-lined jeans defined her as female without a doubt. The loafers were the last thing anyone would notice about her.

  Still, she felt like she needed a distraction. That was when she decided to pull the fire alarm.

  She waited until some of her colleagues were already outside their offices and labs before she opened the door. She hurried up the hallway, passing others, and took the first exit. Before that door closed behind her, she caught a look at the man and the dog in front of Bishop’s office. Though the dog squirmed, the man didn’t seem to notice her.

  Shaw headed down the steps. There was one place she needed to stop before she disappeared into the woods.

  74

  O’Dell searched for anyone fitting Bishop’s description. When Grace bounded off, O’Dell thought the dog must have been spooked by the alarm. Her toenails clicked and skidded on the tiles as she pulled faster than Creed wanted to allow. He kept telling the dog to slow down and Grace wouldn’t have any of it.

  Then Creed turned to make sure O’Dell was following and she thought he mouthed the word Shaw.

  Was it possible that Shaw had pulled the alarm and managed to sneak out?

  Grace certainly thought so.

  By now the hallway was filled with staff and scientists spilling from the labs and offices. And because of the screeching alarm they couldn’t hear O’Dell yelling at them to move aside. Creed tried to keep Grace close to the wall. The dog was straining at the end of the leash, but Creed couldn’t squeeze through the crowd fast enough to let her pick up the pace. When the scientists pushed through the first exit door and started down the steps, it was almost impossible to get by them.

  She could see Grace pulling, going down step by step, her collar practically choking her because Creed was left behind nearly three or four steps up.

  O’Dell shoved her way to catch up. At the top of the stairs she tapped shoulders and started showing them her weapon. That startled them and moved them out of the way. When she reached Creed’s back she continued reaching around him and touching the shoulders of those clogging the stairs. At the sight of the weapon, eyes widened, faces paled, and a couple of people almost tripped, but at least they moved out of the way.

  Grace waited impatiently at the exit door and Creed shoved it open. The dog hesitated only for a second or two, sniffing the air. When O’Dell squeezed out the door she noticed lines of people pouring out of other exits. They all filed toward the parking lots. Grace took off, but she was headed in the other direction. Creed kept pace, jogging behind her. But O’Dell waited.

  This didn’t seem right. If Shaw knew they were here, if she was the one who pulled the alarm, why wouldn’t she be racing for the parking lot, getting her vehicle, and making her escape?

  Creed and Grace were running to an odd-shaped structure surrounded by chain-link fence. They were almost to the gate when there was a loud swoosh. A large wave of netting flew loose from the top of the structure, and through it came hundreds of birds, wings flapping, and a crescendo of chirps. For a brief moment the sky turned black with birds.

  Creed stopped and watched, holding tightly to Grace’s leash. The little dog appeared annoyed with the pause and paid little attention to the flocks overhead.

  O’Dell caught up with them. Neither she nor Creed said a word, but when they went through the gate they were now walking instead of running.

  Grace led them into the open aviary where the birds had just exited. O’Dell couldn’t help thinking that Shaw had set loose one last batch of infected migratory birds, one last attempt to wreak havoc. The space was as large as a football field. It was an open-air warehouse with netting instead of a roof. The netting was attached in sections to the metal beams, and in the middle O’Dell could see where it had been purposely opened, the latches set free by some mechanism. Shaw was probably able to operate it with a remote of some sort.

  The birds were gone. Lone feathers fluttered in the air. But Grace’s nose was still twitching. Only she wasn’t in a hurry now. She twirled, scratching at the dirt floor, and just then O’Dell realized the three of them were standing on the droppings and breathing in the residue air of what were most likely birds infected with Shaw’s strain of the bird flu.

  Grace spun around and started back to where they had just come from. O’Dell saw the flash of white.

  “Stop!” she yelled, and she fired a shot into the wood above the doorway. To her surprise, the figure stopped.

  The woman’s hair was chopped short and darker, but O’Dell recognized Shaw. She was shocked to see that she had shed her male disguise, but of course Shaw knew they’d be looking for Stephen Bishop and so the perfect trick was to morph back into her old self.

  “Was it the birds that gave me away?” Shaw asked as she approached them.

  “Stay where you are and take your hands out of your pockets,” O’Dell commanded, but Shaw kept walking toward them.

  “It was Grace,” Creed told the woman.

  He scooped up the little dog. Out of the corner of her eye O’Dell could see him quietly pull the pink elephant from his shoulder bag and hand it to Grace. Her reward. Grace took it and started squeaking it, wanting to get back down, but Creed held her firmly against his side, protecting her from the bird droppings.

  “The dogs at the airport,” Shaw said calmly, nodding at Grace like she finally understood. “You trained them to detect the virus.” She stopped now in front of them and still seemed undeterred by O’Dell’s weapon pointing directly at her chest.

  “Take your hands out of your pockets,” O’Dell said again.

  They came out slowly but halfway out, O’Dell could see that Shaw had something in both. Neither was a gun or knife. They were small plastic bags, what looked like harmless everyday Ziplocs, and they confused O’Dell enough to hesitate as Shaw flung both directly at them. The open bags hit O’Dell and Creed at the same time, and though both had put up their arms instinctively, the contents had already begun splattering them in midair. It looked like blood.

  Shaw used those few seconds to turn and run. This time O’Dell didn’t hesitate. She would not let this woman get away a second time. While wiping blood from her face, she aimed, took a deep breath, and squeezed the trigger twice.

  TUESDAY

  75

  FLORIDA PANHANDLE

  Jason had just finished the kennel chores. It was the first time he’d done all of them alone without Creed. From the sounds of it, he’d need to get used to it. His shoulder ached. He had gotten into the habit of gripping bags of dog food and pinning them under his arm. He carried them against his body with his amputated arm, so he could leave his hand free to open gates and doors. He had actually gotten pretty good at it, but his body was still trying to adjust.

  He was heading to the house for coffee with Hannah and Dr. Avelyn when he saw a shiny black SUV winding its way through the trees. It reminded him of Tabor, and immediately he felt a knot in his stomach.

  Jason came in the back door just as the SUV took the last curve in the long driveway.

  “We’ve got company,” he told the two women.

  Hannah didn’t look surprised. Instead she went to the cupboard and took out another coffee mug.

  “I baked a batch of pecan rolls,” she said, pointing to the kitchen table, where a plate of pastries sat in the middle of the paperwork she and Dr. Avelyn had been working on.

  The scent of fresh bread, sugar, and cinnamon made Jason’s mouth water, and already he had forgotten the knot in his stomach. He was slathering a roll with butter when Hannah opened the back door and called to their visitor.

  The last time Jason had seen Charlie Wurth he had been sho
ving and yelling at passengers to get out of the way. Now the man greeted them with a wide smile. He wore dark trousers, a light blue shirt, and a striped tie to match. His shirtsleeves were rolled up and his sunglasses were pushed up on top of his head. Jason started to stand up, but Wurth waved at him to sit back down.

  “Sure does smell good in here,” he told Hannah. “You are definitely not the typical contractor I’m used to working with.”

  Jason glanced at Hannah. He’d never seen that look on her face. She was actually flustered by Wurth’s praise.

  “How’s Rye doing?” she asked him as she gestured for him to sit. She poured coffee for the two men and offered to top off Dr. Avelyn’s.

  “They’re still running tests.” Wurth dropped a manila envelope on the table but stayed standing until Hannah came around to her seat.

  “When I talked to him he sounded like a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. He won’t admit it, but I think he’s a bit claustrophobic after being buried under that mudslide.”

  “Do they know if the blood Shaw threw at them was contaminated?” Dr. Avelyn asked.

  “Colonel Platt didn’t believe it was, but they’re being extra cautious.”

  Wurth picked up the envelope and tapped it against his open palm. Jason thought the man looked impatient and ready to talk about why he was really here.

  “I wanted to thank all of you again. As you know, Mr. Creed drove a hard bargain to make this all happen, and it was certainly worth every cent. I look forward to working with all of you in the future. But there was one piece of the agreement that I still need to deliver.”

  Wurth surprised Jason by handing him the envelope.

  Jason looked from Wurth to Hannah and Dr. Avelyn, then back to Wurth before he set his coffee mug down. He hesitated as he took the envelope.

  “What’s this?” he asked.

  “Something your boss insisted we include in the agreement.”

  Jason looked at Hannah again, and she said, “Go ahead and open it.”

  He pulled out a folder and opened it, but he still didn’t understand what he was looking at. On one side was official paperwork from Johns Hopkins University with instructions including dates and times. Tucked in the other side of the folder were several brochures. One of them had DARPA printed at the top. He pulled it out. The graphic on the front was a robotic hand. A quick scan and he picked out phrases: “Revolutionizing Prosthetics Program,” “touch sensations,” “mind-controlled,” “dexterous hand capabilities.”

  “I don’t understand,” Jason finally said.

  “It’s state-of-the-art technology,” Wurth told him. “I’m told it just passed a thirty-five-volunteer test study with flying colors.” Wurth reached across the table and tapped a business card that was stapled to the document on the other side. “You’re all scheduled, but if you need to change dates, you call me. It’ll be about a week for the fitting and adjusting, as well as some time for you to get used to using it. That paperwork includes hotel reservations for you and your dog.”

  “My dog?”

  “I was told you have a dog you’d probably want to bring with you.”

  Jason looked at Hannah. He couldn’t believe this. He thought of Tony and his upcoming funeral, of all they had been through together. He had followed in Tony’s footsteps almost all his life, and over the last several days he struggled to imagine how to go on without his friend. Maybe this was a good start.

  “I don’t know what to say,” he told Hannah.

  She took his hand and squeezed it, fighting back her own emotion as she smiled.

  76

  AN ISOLATION UNIT

  CENTERS FOR DISEASE CONTROL

  ATLANTA, GEORGIA

  Creed was already tired of wearing the hospital gown. No one would tell him how much longer he’d be stuck in here. He was worried about Grace. They would only tell him that the dog was fine, but they wouldn’t let him see her.

  They had allowed him to talk to Hannah on the phone last night. He knew she’d be worried, especially if she’d heard about the two of them being splattered with blood. He had been told that the blood wasn’t infected with the virus. Supposedly they were taking extra precautions because of the bird droppings and being in the aviary, breathing in the air contaminated by what they believed were birds infected with the bird flu.

  Hannah told him about Tillie tracking the first virus carrier. And he told her about Grace sniffing out Dr. Shaw. She also told him how well Jason had done with Winnie. All in all, they’d managed to help apprehend three virus carriers. They had no way of knowing if those three were the only ones.

  Creed kept the television on. It was the only thing that kept him from climbing the white walls of the isolation unit. Charlie Wurth and Benjamin Platt were able to keep secret the reason for the commotion and arrests at the Atlanta airport. But there were rumors and suspicion about a new flu sickening hundreds in the Chicago and New York areas. The CDC reported nine deaths despite their claim that the strain was not as strong as they had initially suspected.

  There was, however, no mention of the bird flu, and no journalists seemed to make the connection even after several reports of birds falling from the sky. On one of the channels Amee Rief, the biologist with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, was being interviewed about the strange occurrence. Creed listened for a while until he realized that Charlie Wurth had managed to control this story line, too.

  Of course, most of the 24/7 news cycle was concentrated on Washington, D.C., where Colonel Abraham Hess, the legendary director of DARPA, was stepping down. The official word was that the man was finally retiring, but there was speculation that his resignation had been forced. This news came after a DARPA field agent named Lawrence Tabor had been arrested for the murder of Sheriff Wylie. Tabor was also being investigated in the suspicious death of a scientist named Dr. Howard Getz, whose vehicle had been found in a ravine not far from his research facility.

  Creed shook his head at the politics of it all. None of it surprised him, and he thought about how Hess’s attempt at cover-up wasn’t really much different than what Charlie Wurth, Benjamin Platt, and the CDC were doing. They were all so good at it.

  The fact that the colonel was resigning and not being led away in handcuffs spoke more about his skills of survival than the cover-up. He claimed Tabor had gone rogue, and he insisted the agent had not been acting on any orders given or implied. Of course, all that might change once Dr. Clare Shaw recovered from her gunshot wounds and began telling tales of Hess’s involvement. It probably depended on how much the federal government wanted to admit about what DARPA and its research facilities were actually working on.

  There was a knock at the window. Creed wanted to wave the person away. Certainly they had already taken enough of his blood and saliva for the day. But when he looked up he saw Maggie standing in the neutral zone at the thick window that separated his room. She was wearing a matching hospital gown and under her arm was Grace. Behind her Creed recognized Benjamin Platt, though he was dressed in one of the blue space suits.

  Platt gestured for Creed to stand back away from the door. He could feel the air exchange as the seal disengaged and the door opened. Maggie came in with a wiggling Grace. She put the dog down on the floor and in seconds Grace was jumping into Creed’s arms.

  “You have two hours,” Platt said, his voice muffled through his glass shield. And he closed the door.

  “I talked him into it,” Maggie told him. “He knows how much I hate being in an isolation unit.”

  Creed just stared at her.

  “You don’t mind, do you?” she asked, suddenly concerned that she might have stepped over some line.

  “You are cramping my style as a loner.”

  “I also talked him into bringing us a pizza.”

  He smiled at that and said, “He’s a good man.”

  “Y
es, he is,” she said, but there was something sad and mournful in her voice.

  He watched Maggie go to sit down on the sofa in the corner with Grace prancing alongside. A gentleman would tell her that her gown needed to be tied up better in the back. Maybe he’d mention it when she was leaving.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Most of you know I love doing research for my novels. At times it’s difficult to stop and make myself sit down and write the book. But, as fascinating as the research was for this book, I must confess it was unsettling in a way that I’ve never experienced before and in a way I certainly didn’t expect.

  I’ve had the idea of using virus-sniffing dogs in one of my Creed novels ever since I discovered the In Situ Foundation. This organization has been dedicated to scientifically training dogs to detect early-stage cancer in humans for more than twelve years. (See more at dogsdetectcancer.org.) Their published findings have been impressive. In many cases, dogs are able to detect certain types of cancer—lung, breast, and prostate, to name a few—sooner and with more accuracy than some of the leading medical equipment and lab tests currently available.

  Dogs are already being used to detect epileptic seizures before they occur and insulin imbalances in diabetics. They have been able to detect C. diff in patients before there are symptoms. The applications seem limited only to the trainers and their abilities to communicate what they want the dogs to detect. It’s very exciting.

  TSA is gearing up to add hundreds more dogs at airports to help get us through those long security lines quicker, but it may be just a matter of time before they use dogs to also detect Ebola, tuberculosis, and other dangerous pathogens coming into the country. In fact, there are speculations that our next terrorist attack could be a biological weapon in the form of virus carriers. And if that doesn’t scare you enough, the CDC has all but admitted that they may not be ready. It’s been said that Hurricane Katrina was a hard lesson on how to evacuate an entire city. But the CDC has suggested that it might take an actual outbreak of a deadly virus to teach us how to quarantine an entire city.