Dead Promise Read online

  As CDC director, Ambrose was working with multiple federal agencies to contain the spread of the deadly virus. But cases of the avian flu had shown up in NYC, Florida, New Jersey, Illinois, Maryland, Delaware, and DC. And these were only the confirmed cases. He hoped that the virus could be stopped, but he feared it was too late. Antiviral medications could treat the symptoms, but the federal stockpile contained only one million doses. Not enough.

  NYC Mayor Donnelly shut down Amtrak, NYC airports, and the MTA. The city hospitals were at capacity, placing those with flu symptoms in isolation units. Some hospitals were using temporary tent-like facilities to keep those with the deadly virus quarantined. The National Guard was in place to prevent looting and unrest. FEMA was distributing protective face masks to keep the virus from spreading. Many were ignoring Homeland Security’s warning to “shelter in place.”

  Dr. Ambrose couldn’t predict how fast the virus would spread. If it mutated further, it could become even more deadly. Homeland Security had measures in place to deal with a terrorist attack, but the bioterrorism attack was the biggest challenge the United States had faced since 9/11.

  All major cities with transit systems were on high alert. The terrorists could have released multiple weapons without warning. The pandemic effects of the mutated H5N1 virus were already being felt nationwide. The potential of this unleashed virus overwhelmed Dr. Ambrose. God only knew how bad it was going to get.

  Ambrose had studied outbreaks and knew a pandemic was likely, but he hadn’t expected it to come in the form of an attack. Dr. Ambrose had ordered that a vaccine be manufactured, but it would take time, even with the newest technology. At this point, all he could do was track and attempt to contain the virus. Government rhetoric about containment sounded good, but was it too late? A worldwide pandemic was not just a possibility but had probably already begun.

  4

  Georgiana woke up disoriented, not sure where she was. The realization didn’t take long. The clock on the night table glowed a green 3:10 a.m. She felt Mark’s arms around her and his breath on her neck, his chest rising and falling against her back as he slept. She thought of the previous night and the late dinner they’d shared at the hotel restaurant. They were discussing the case, and the conversation got personal. The one thing she had not wanted. But the two glasses of wine had disarmed her. Mark told her things she needed to hear, and she told him things that she’d never shared with anyone. Somehow they’d ended up in one room. This was definitely going to cause problems. She was breaking every rule in the FBI book. The first and most important: don’t have sex with your partner.

  But right now she couldn’t think straight. She just wanted to savor this moment, his naked body next to hers, and how wonderful it felt. She’d thought Mark was asleep, but he began to kiss her neck, and his arms tightened around her, pulling her body closer to his. He was responding, his hardness pressing against her. Georgiana turned her face toward his. His mouth enveloped hers, and they kissed, long and slow. She turned toward him, and he groaned as she melted her body into his, her breasts against his chest, her hands grasping him, stroking him. He rolled onto her, Georgiana wanting Mark as much as he wanted her.

  Georgiana loved the way he felt, all taut muscle, his masculine scent, and she pulled him closer, her hand touching his hair as their kisses deepened. She opened herself to him, and he entered her. God, she needed him, and she could tell he needed her, too. This didn’t feel casual; he was making love to her. She moaned, her legs wrapped around him, and she didn’t care what happened next. She knew in that moment that she loved him, and she could feel his love as he came, causing them both to gasp in pleasure. He stayed on top of her, and they held each other close until they fell asleep, neither caring what time it was. Everything between them was different now.

  5

  “What the hell?” thought Georgiana.

  She awoke with the startling realization of what she had done. Mark was still asleep on top of her, but she pushed him away, and he rolled onto the other side of the king-size bed, suddenly awake.

  “What’s wrong, Georgiana?” he asked.

  She wouldn’t answer. George grabbed her purse and went into the bathroom, locking the door. Still naked, she stared at herself in the mirror, saw the burns on her face from his coarse beard, the dark circles under her eyes, her lips red and swollen.

  “Oh my God,” she thought.

  She had never expected to end up in the same room as Mark. They were professionals, FBI agents. Not only was Mark her partner, she was his superior. How could she have let this happen? She must never let anyone know. And never let it happen again. It was her fault. How could she have been so stupid, especially at her experience level? Her priorities had gotten totally out of line. She had been careless, allowing emotions to interfere in the most important case of her career. This lapse in judgment could cost plenty. Never again.

  Mark knocked on the bathroom door.

  “Are you OK, George?” he asked.

  “Yes. I’ll be out in a minute,” she replied.

  It had been so long since she had made love. The last time she had been with anyone was with her ex, Denny. How long ago had that been? She couldn’t even remember. All she knew was that she shouldn’t have let it happen. She was in trouble, and she wasn’t exactly sure where this would lead. Losing control of a situation wasn’t her style, but damn. She needed him but didn’t want to need him. Or anyone. She had to keep her head on straight. She couldn’t jeopardize this investigation. Lives were at stake, including hers and Mark’s. Not to mention their careers.

  And she wanted to protect him, as well. Mark Strickland had been with the FBI for two years, following ten with the NYPD. A first responder on 9/11. She knew he carried bad memories from that day. He and his partner had gone into the North Tower, and Jimmy had followed Mark up the stairs. Overtaken by smoke and fumes, he’d been treated for smoke inhalation. He never saw Jimmy again. And Mark never talked about it, but it was in his personnel record.

  She opened the door. He was standing there in his Jockey briefs, dark hair tousled, arms against the doorframe.

  “What’s going on?” he asked, staring at her, his voice gravelly and demanding.

  “Mark, I can’t put you or our careers on the line. I don’t know how this happened,” she said, pushing past him to get to her clothes, which were scattered all over the floor.

  “I can tell you how it happened,” he answered.

  “You know what I mean.”

  She didn’t need to hear his smartass remarks. She grabbed her panties and bra and wrapped herself in one of the bedsheets. She realized it was a little late for modesty. She headed back to the bathroom. He stopped her, put his arms around her, and pulled her tight against him. She dropped everything and stayed in his arms, realizing there was no turning back.

  She started to cry, and he held her tighter, kissing her forehead, her cheeks, her mouth. She kissed him back, as he whispered, “I love you, George, and I’ll never leave you. We’ll get through this.”

  She believed him. He held her close against his chest, his arms locked around her. Then a cell phone rang. It was hers. Her caller ID showed it was her superior, Fran Jacobs, director of the FBI’s main field office in NYC.

  “Shit!” thought George.

  “Georgiana Reed here,” she answered.

  As she listened, fatigue swept over her. She looked at Mark, who stood near her, trying to listen to the conversation.

  “Yes, Fran, Mark needs to hear this. I’m putting you on speaker,” said George.

  Fran began, “We have nothing on Adams, the Edgewood lab director. Two guys from Weber’s team spent the night interrogating him with his attorney present. I don’t think he’s involved, at least not directly. Adams may be guilty of being stupid, but that’s it.”

  “The message on his laptop indicates involvement or a setup,” said Mark.

  “Possibly a setup but maybe not. The guy was a player and probably had ma
ny who might want to throw him under the bus,” said Fran. “Someone with access to his computer set up the dead drop.”

  Mark said, “Chen.”

  “She probably wanted his job, and he’d burned her pretty badly,” said George.

  “She wasn’t the only one,” Mark said.

  George asked, “What else, Fran?”

  “We’ve looked at the video from the subway platform where the canister was found. A hooded figure, appears to be male, made the drop. He moved fast. He was carrying a bag, pulled the canister out, placed it behind the column, stuck the cap in the bag, and then left the scene. Must have been a delayed release.”

  George said, “Description?”

  “Probably five eight to five ten, age unknown, possible Caucasian. That’s it. Dead end, so far. They’re working on face recognition, but there isn’t much to go on. The camera caught just a narrow edge…the side of his face.”

  Fran continued, “George, you’re heading this investigation. Your thoughts?”

  George said, “Chen’s home lab was sanitized; no trace of anything she might have been working on. But we’re looking for evidence that she purchased a canister. It’s an ordinary spray can. She could have gotten it anywhere, at the Edgewood lab or a local hardware store. Even online. We’re checking her credit cards. We know she had access. We’re working on motive, and she had several. One involves a twin sister. Graham found a photo. And someone’s holding big-time purse strings. Someone who calls himself the Director of some group called the Organization.”

  “What about this Colonel Graham?” asked Jacobs.

  “He contacted Greg Hammond, NCS, who put Chen on their ‘person of interest’ list and placed her under surveillance. Graham found suspicious evidence that led him to discuss her with Hammond, his friend from West Point, and Graham agreed to watch her, also. But he was in denial, according to Hammond. Apparently, from a note Graham found in her desk, the date the event was to go down was July fourth, but for whatever reason, it was moved to June fourth,” said George.

  Mark said, “We believe the Organization, whose name appeared on the note, found out through their sources about this colonel’s intimate connection to Chen and advanced the attack. We suspect they threatened Chen and her boyfriend. Our tech guys are going through her digital records. We’re trying to connect the dots. Adams’s role? Chen hated his guts. She may have set him up. She was always in and out of his office. The ‘love affair gone bad’ angle fits a motive.”

  “Possibly. But we can’t say it’s a lone-wolf attack. This Organization seemed to pull all Chen’s strings,” said George.

  Fran said, “You have work to do.”

  “Yes, we’re on our way to Edgewood now,” said George.

  “All right, guys, keep me informed,” said Fran. “George, can you turn off the speaker?”

  “Sure, Fran.” George picked up her cell.

  “Keep your head on straight,” said Fran.

  “What do you mean?” asked George, looking at Mark.

  “You know damn well what I mean,” said Fran.

  “Will do.” George ended the call.

  “She knows,” she said to Mark.

  6

  Mark was steering his Mustang GT with one hand, drinking coffee from a Styrofoam cup with the other. He didn’t like Georgiana’s silence. She’d barely spoken to him since they’d left the hotel. He knew she had to distance herself from him, but he didn’t like it. He didn’t like any of this. She looked beautiful, even with the dark circles under her eyes. Needless to say, they hadn’t gotten much sleep. He couldn’t believe he had held her in his arms all night, and now she was barely speaking to him.

  “George, we’ll handle this,” he said. “Don’t worry.”

  “This case is different,” she said.

  “Yes. Agreed,” he said.

  She hadn’t spoken since they’d gotten in the car. He’d never seen her like this. He felt the barrier she had placed between them. But he wasn’t sorry they had made love, and it wasn’t over.

  “Shit,” he said to himself. He just didn’t want to screw anything up.

  He looked over at George, who had her head down in deep concentration. Mark turned on the radio as background noise. But the background noise was news. And it wasn’t good.

  George tuned out the radio, holding a legal pad on her lap, working up her notes. Dr. Suzy Chen topped the list, with Adams as number two. They had plenty on Chen already. She had taken delivery of the H5N1 virus and placed it in storage. She’d had the perfect opportunity, and, judging by the evidence found at her condo, she had the motive. They just had to find Chen’s contact, or contacts, who would lead them to the Organization. There were plenty of leads, and they’d learn more after they got to the Edgewood Laboratories.

  They needed to check out Dr. Eric Adams, the lab director. George wasn’t sure if Adams was directly responsible, but he could be withholding information. Adams and Chen had been an item at one time. Maybe the relationship hadn’t ended, as both had claimed. Adams had been involved with other women at Edgewood, and one of them could have set him up. Revenge and jealousy are strong emotions, but terrorism, money, and sabotage could all factor in. They’d get background checks on everyone who worked at the lab. If Chen was the perpetrator, she may have had an accomplice or accomplices. Maybe it was Adams. The electronic footprints of the lab personnel would tell them what they needed to know. And it wouldn’t take long.

  George grabbed her cell and texted Wally that they were on their way.

  7

  Although all flights in and out of LaGuardia were canceled, Laura Cameron was in her office. She was a flight attendant supervisor and instructor for Century Airlines, based at LaGuardia Airport. A few flight attendants were in the FA lounge adjoining Laura’s office, sleeping in comfortable recliners, hoping the airport would open so they could get a flight home. They’d been stranded when the airport had closed the day before.

  Laura was still reeling from hearing about the death of Terry, one of the younger flight attendants. Her best friend, Maggie, was still in critical condition at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore. Maggie and Terry had been working the same flight to Miami. Then they both got sick. Everything seemed unreal, like a nightmare. Laura had dealt with many emergencies in her almost-thirty-year career with Century Air, but this was the most critical. Worse than that. Like 9/11. The quiet in the skies. A dead silence. She was scared. And she felt alone.

  She was sitting at her desk, running a comb through her blond, shoulder-length hair, when her cell phone rang.

  “Laura Cameron speaking,” she said.

  “Laura, it’s Bud.”

  “Bud, wonderful hearing your voice,” she said. “Where are you?” Her heart started pounding.

  “I’m at my apartment. Fortunately, our flight was canceled before we left the gate,” he said. “How are you, sweetheart?” His voice was full of concern.

  “I’m fine. I stayed here last night, in case there were problems with any of the FAs. I’ve got eight stuck here with no flights to get back to their home bases. I don’t want them to be alone,” she said.

  ‘What about Captain Wesley and the rest of the crew members who were with Maggie and Terry? Have you heard anything?” he asked.

  “Dwight said they’re still in Miami. Quarantined…” She didn’t finish the sentence. “And now that flights are canceled, I don’t know when they’ll be able to come back.”

  “They haven’t gotten sick?” he asked.

  “No, Dwight said they have cabin fever, but they’re OK. So far,” said Laura.

  “I want you with me,” he said, matter of fact.

  Laura waited before she said anything.

  “I want that, too,” she answered.

  She wasn’t used to depending on anyone. She was almost fifty and had gone out with a lot of nice guys, and nothing had ever clicked. She’d even had her heart broken a few times. But this guy was different. She and Bud Wittwer, a Century Air
captain, had started dating about a month before, and they’d pretty quickly gotten involved in an intense love affair. She was swept away by her feelings for him, and she hoped he felt the same but wouldn’t count on it. The physical relationship happened fast. The chemistry was perfect—at least it felt that way to her. Now this call.

  “Laura, I know we haven’t been seeing each other very long, but…” And he stopped.

  “I know, Bud. It’s OK,” she said.

  She wanted to give him an out. He was recently divorced, and she knew about being lonely. She didn’t expect anything from him, and she didn’t want him to think she was one of those needy women who did.

  “Stop it. Let me finish,” he said. “I love you, Laura, and I just wanted to tell you.”

  “You don’t have to say anything like that to me, Bud,” she said lightly. “We’ve dealt with crises before, and this one will pass, too.”

  But she didn’t mean it.

  “Shut up. Don’t give me any more of your bullshit. I love you, and you know it. And you love me, and I’m just telling you,” he said. “I’ll be here at the apartment. Call me when you can, or if you can get away from your office. I want you with me. This is serious shit, and it’s going to get worse before it gets better.”

  “I love you, Bud.” She started crying, silent tears. “I can’t leave. They might need me, and I want to stay close to my FAs.”

  “Then I’ll come there.”

  “Don’t. Maggie was in my office yesterday, and I don’t want you near me. Not until I’m sure I’m not contagious.”

  “God, Laura, are you feeling all right?” he asked.

  “I’m going to be fine, Bud. You are stuck with me.” And she laughed, trying to lighten the mood.

  “You got that right,” he said. “I want you to come here as soon as you can, or I’m coming there.”