Dead Love Page 7

  Suzy had to shower, change clothes, and do a few obligatory household chores for a short while. She had started coffee before going upstairs. They had stopped for fresh bagels and cream cheese on their way back from the Inner Harbor, and she had oranges for making fresh juice.

  Max called to Suzy upstairs, “I need to make a few calls and check my email, Suzy.”

  Suzy replied, “Sure, Max, use my office.”

  Max entered the small office off the living room and sat in the plush leather chair behind Suzy’s uniquely designed desk. It was made of teak, a Chinese antique and family heirloom. The burgundy Oriental rug covering the hardwood floor, along with the ornate burgundy and green silk lined curtains, added warmth to the décor of the room.

  Max began looking for some notepaper and a pen. The center desk drawer seemed stuck, and then realizing it was locked, he searched for a key. It was taped under the bronze desk lamp, as he expected. He smiled. He found a note pad and several pens in a special partition in the front of the drawer. That was all he needed. Then he saw the .38 S&W. He picked it up, opened the cylinder, and saw the Hornady hollow points. He placed it carefully back where he found it. Nice little bauble. My girl is full of surprises, he smiled. He noticed the manila envelope, unmarked, and the two photos. He stared at both, seemingly of the same girl. What a beautiful but very young Chinese girl who looked like a teenage version of Suzy. They were old black-and-white photographs. Maybe it was Suzy. He looked in the envelope. The message was cryptic, typewritten, and contained only five lines:

  4.7: D-Day.

  10 mil. 842-66895. D + 1.

  + L

  Failure unacceptable.

  The Organization.

  Max noticed the copier on the credenza. He made copies of the note and photographs, then placed the originals back in the drawer, and stuck the folded copies in his pocket.

  .

  26

  Mike had called the doorman to retrieve his car from the garage. He grabbed his small suitcase, in case he had to spend the night. He knew the drive to Johns Hopkins would take at least three hours plus, on a good day, but he wanted to take the car so he could bring Maggie home comfortably. She could recover from this flu bug at home. It seemed the most practical thing to do.

  He threw the bag in the backseat of their Audi and tipped Arnie, the doorman. He mentioned he might be away overnight and to watch for the boys and Annie to get home from school.

  Arnie got along great with all of the residents, but he felt close to the Ryans and did many favors for them. He had been doorman at their building for a long time and was well-liked by everyone in the building. Arnie had Mike’s cell phone number in case of emergency.

  “Is there further news about the subway problem, Arnie?” asked Mike.

  “No, Mr. Ryan, but I see lots of traffic and emergency vehicles going by and what looks like yellow police tape around the subway entrance. You might want to turn left and go around the block to avoid that area,” he answered.

  “Yes, you’re right.” Mike could see the congestion and some activity surrounding the entrance just a short distance down the street.

  Arnie continued, “I thought I saw an ambulance’s flashing lights down there, not too long ago, but I don’t know what that was all about.”

  “Crap,” thought Mike, that doesn’t sound good.

  “Thanks, Arnie. I’ll let you know what is going on. Wish me luck.” He waved at Arnie as he pulled out into traffic.

  Mike had the hospital address and programmed it into the GPS. The directions were simple, but he wanted to take the quickest route possible. He turned on the car radio, hoping to hear of any further news of the subway closing. Mike followed the doorman’s advice and turned left at the next intersection. Traffic was heavy, as always, but this area was tight. He realized he had a very long drive ahead, but he had to get to Maggie.

  As he sat in the heat, almost at a standstill, he listened to the news, and so far, there had been no further information about what had been found in the subway. The announcer did mention that one of the subway workers had gotten sick with flu-like symptoms, but there was no word on his condition. Mike was glad he kept water in the car, grabbed a bottle from the backseat console, and took a large gulp.

  “Damn,” Mike said, out loud, “just damn.” And he hit the steering wheel as his frustrations grew.

  Traffic was crawling. He had been on the road for an hour and had made little progress. The radio abruptly drew his attention, and sudden fear hit him.

  “We interrupt this program with a breaking news bulletin.”

  .

  27

  Flight 227 was about a half hour out of Miami International Airport. The flight had been far from routine, thought John. He and Allen were deeply concerned about Maggie and the safety of his crew and passengers. Allen continued to monitor the latest news about the NYC crisis. The city was on high alert status due to a possible terrorist attack of the subway system. The potential threat had not yet been identified. In press releases, the Mayor had stated that “an object” had been found and was being analyzed by the FBI, but everyone was to remain calm. Nothing substantive had been reported. One city worker had been hospitalized, but the status of his condition was still unknown. Several hospitals had reported a rise in the number of patients requesting treatment in their emergency departments, but this could have been coincidental.

  John was uncertain of what was going on, but these thoughts had to be put aside as he went through his pre-landing checklist. He heard the double knock on the door and reached back to unlock it. Terry entered the cockpit.

  “Hi, Terry, how is it going back there?” asked John.

  “I’m not sure,” and she hesitated. “I am feeling queasy, a bit lightheaded, probably nothing serious, but I wanted you to know. I have told the other guys about it, and they are helping me. I need to sit down, so I am heading to the rear of the plane to work on the flight report and rest until we get to Miami. This just hit me suddenly.”

  She continued, “Mary, Jackie, and Justin can handle the rest of the flight. The food service is complete, and everything is stowed away.”

  John looked at her closely, noting her paleness and shaky demeanor. She had pulled down the jump seat and sat still, looking washed out.

  “I must be coming down with the flu or some weird bug.”

  John said, “You probably have a virus. Don’t worry. Find a seat in the back and we’ll have you on the ground soon. I’ll radio flight control that we need a sub for the return flight to NYC, and you can check in with Health Services at the airport.”

  “What’s our ETA?” asked Terry, hoping they would get there soon.

  “We are almost there, maybe another twenty-five minutes until touch down. The tower will clear us for a quick landing, and we’ll have someone meet us at the gate with a wheelchair to pick you up.”

  Terry was relieved. She thanked the guys and walked to rear of the plane, keeping her composure, not wanting to show any signs that she was feeling wobbly. She sat on the rear jump seat and began working on the flight reports. It was hard for her to concentrate, but she finished the routine paperwork. Her head was throbbing. She hoped she hadn’t caught whatever Maggie had, but she knew something was seriously wrong. Her symptoms were just like Maggie’s, and they had begun so suddenly.

  The seatbelt sign came on as they were making their final approach. Terry was sipping the orange juice that Justin had brought to her. He was sitting next to her, his arm around her, in support. She was grateful to have his help and felt relief when the wheels touched down.

  She wasn’t aware when they carried her off the plane, and the EMTs placed her in the ambulance to take her to the Miami University Medical Center.

  Captain Wesley and First Officer Delaney were still sitting in the cockpit, wondering what the hell was going on.

  .

  28

  Lee had only vague memories from her early childhood, of her weeping mother clinging
to her, as she was being dragged away by a man and woman and taken to a large gray building, placed in a cold room with many small beds, filled with other children, many who were crying and alone in large cribs. Lee remembers crying herself to sleep. There were other dark images. The hunger she felt daily, the sour milk, tasteless, cold mush, and if lucky, white sticky rice, served occasionally with hard bread, or her favorite, a small bowl of warm broth.

  Lee could no longer remember her mother’s face, only a pervasive sadness that crept up now and then, but mostly it was buried so deeply inside that she didn’t know or recognize any emotions. Nothing could touch her or hurt her ever. Absence of feeling had become essential to her survival.

  She was aware that she had lived in Shanghai since she was a young girl, but she wasn’t certain for how long. Her trip from the orphanage in Beijing to this dilapidated hotel in the bustling overcrowded city was a blurred memory. She found out later that she was sold to some men, whose faces she now knew well. They had paid the orphanage and then taken her on a long journey, ending in Shanghai, to this run-down hotel, with other girls like herself, young, pretty, emotionless, where they learned quickly how to survive. They were adept at it. They were also loyal to each other, and she learned from them what was expected of her. She had grown accustomed to strangers touching her, though at first it was mortifying. The older girls told her what to do and how to survive. Now, nothing was forbidden, and she had gotten used to the routine of her stark life.

  Lou E and Mick owned the girls, kept them amply provided for, and made sure they were obedient when it came to satisfying the clients. They bought the girls’ clothing and makeup, cheap but enticing, and provided them with all their needs, even bringing in a doctor if any became ill. Lee never saw any money; she just lived as the others did, from day to day, resting in the daylight, eating food that was provided, and waiting for the darkness to come to find out what was in store for them. Some of the girls were migrants, who had traveled to the city seeking better paying jobs but ended up doing the only job available. They were all young, barely in their teens, but that was the attraction. Men wanted these nubile exquisitely beautiful toys to pleasure them, and Lou E and Mick took great care of these delightful innocents.

  Prostitution was a lucrative business in Shanghai and in many large Chinese cities. Though illegal, the government pretended it didn’t exist. The tourist trade flourished, and businessmen like Lou E and Mick added much to the economic growth of the city.

  Lee was a favorite because of her delicate, sensual beauty and gentle nature. Mick, and especially Lou E, favored her and had become attached to her. She was fond of them, and as she grew older, they kept her only for the highest paying clients and themselves. At times, she thought of another life, a life she had heard about from the other girls. She had learned to read while at the orphanage and hoped that one day she would be able to experience more than the life in which she was imprisoned. One memory had remained, of a woman with outstretched arms, reaching for her, crying for her, and Lee wanted to see her again. There was another vague memory. She kept seeing an image, but it never clarified. Something was missing. She wanted to know the mysteries of her past life. The feelings of emptiness and loss were nearly unbearable.

  .

  29

  Suzy drove to her parents’ house, aware that her dad would be still be at the university. It was around 11:30 a.m., and she needed to speak privately to her mother. The investigation into the morning’s “event” had started, and she hoped her absence would go unnoticed, at least for a short while. It had taken her forty-five minutes to get from Edgewood to the prestige suburb of Newark, Delaware, where her parents lived. Suzy could only communicate with her mother in person. She was still exhausted from her sleepless night.

  Rose Lin answered the door in chic beige slacks, white tailored blouse, a strand of pearls, and matching earrings. Suzy marveled at her mother’s exquisite beauty. She had Asian features, straight black hair, to her shoulders, and a youthful, slender figure. Suzy could see her own reflection in her mother’s face.

  “Suzy, my beautiful daughter, what a delightful surprise. Please come in.” She hugged her daughter close. She held Suzy for a moment and then stepped back to look at her.

  Rose Lin smiled and then asked, “Would you care for some tea?” Suzy followed her mother into the comfortable but modern kitchen.

  “No thank you, mother, but please go ahead. No students today?” asked Suzy, grabbing a bottle of water from the refrigerator. She sat on one of the white French provincial style bar stools at the granite-topped center island.

  “Several students cancelled, so I am free for the rest of the day.”

  Suzy was glad and knew her father wouldn’t be home until dinnertime. He was completing the final paperwork due at the end of each semester. They would be free to speak. Suzy looked around at the warm kitchen, thinking of the happy memories she enjoyed, growing up in such a wonderful loving home with adoring parents. She loved the small circular glass kitchen table that fit perfectly in the nook of the bay window, where she and her parents had eaten most of their meals. It overlooked the beautiful garden, full of colorful flowers, already in full bloom. Suzy felt fortunate to have grown up in such a beautiful home with her two loving parents.

  “How is Father?” asked Suzy.

  He was ten years older than her mother, and Suzy was concerned about his health. It had been recently discovered that he had heart arrhythmia problems. He was under doctor’s care, on medication, and also had pacemaker. He was stable, but Suzy worried about him.

  Her mother reassured Suzy, “He is doing just fine, my dear. No worries.”

  “Does he have classes during the summer quarter?” asked Suzy.

  “Yes, just two,” said Rose Lin, “but he feels well, and keeping busy helps maintain his positive attitude. As you know, that is the secret to health, happiness, and long life.” She smiled.

  “Tell me about you, Suzy. I can see in your face that you are burdened.” Rose Lin studied her daughter’s face carefully. “I have heard about New York City and the terrorist attack. Are you involved in the investigation? I heard that they found something in the subway.”

  Her mother knew that Suzy couldn’t talk about work, but Rose Lin was concerned for her daughter’s safety. She was also worried about the terrorist threat and what it could mean on a large scale.

  “Mother, I need to tell you something, but it could have dire consequences. I must have your word of honor that you will not disclose this information to anyone, only Father,” said Suzy.

  Her solemn tone frightened Rose Lin. Suzy couldn’t believe she had to talk about this, but it was crucial, since it directly involved her mother.

  “My daughter, you know that I am here for you and will help in any way that I can,” answered her mother. “What is it? Is something wrong?” Her mother’s voice was plaintive.

  “I know about Lee,” Suzy stated, placing an envelope in her mother’s hands.

  Her mother’s delicate face froze. Rose Lin spoke no words, but a single glistening teardrop began flowing down her angular, beautifully sculpted cheekbone.

  .

  30

  As Dave sat in Jim Lucas’s office, he spoke on the phone with the CDC director, Dr. Ambrose. The test results of the canister were as yet undetermined, but the patients’ symptoms suggested a virus of unknown origin. The CDC lab in north Jersey was still working on the lab samples, as well. Additional nasal and throat swabs along with blood samples were on their way to the CDC lab in Atlanta. The symptoms of the patients, all of whom had been in the subway station where the “object in question” had been found, were all similar: coughing, breathing difficulties, severe headaches, fever, nausea, chills, weakness, muscle aches, and sore throat. Some were affected more severely than others.

  Dave and Dr. Ambrose were deep in conversation, when Jim got a phone call from Dr. Edwards in the isolation unit.

  “What is it, Frank?” asked Jim.r />
  “One of our patients, an older gentleman who came in earlier today, just died from respiratory failure. His wife has been told, and we have the hospital chaplain with her now. He was in the subway station this morning.”

  “Holy shit,” said Jim.

  Dr. Edwards continued, “He had a history of chronic bronchitis and emphysema. He was vulnerable to any severe respiratory infection.”

  “How are the other patients doing?” asked Jim.

  “Not good. They are all coughing and have multiple acute symptoms. We are trying various anti-viral medications. Without knowing the strain, we don’ know which medication will be most effective. It is too soon to tell.” Frank was matter of fact.

  “Keep me posted, and you and your staff use extreme caution. We don’t have an f-ing clue what we have on our hands.” Jim was concerned.

  “We are, but thanks, Jim, we appreciate that. I just wish we knew what we are dealing with.”

  Dave was saying to Dr. Ambrose, “Until we know for sure, we continue to treat and contain.”

  Dr. Ambrose agreed that they would stay in touch as more information was obtained.

  After a few more minutes of conversation, they concluded the meeting.

  Dave asked Jim, “What?”

  Jim was ashen. “We lost one of the patients in isolation. The older man, John Keaton. He had a history of emphysema and chronic bronchitis. Respiratory failure.”