“Avanti insists that you’re wrong,” General McDaniels said.
“We’re not,” Martin said sadly. “So we’re back to square one. Look on the bright side, maybe all Jeser has is wood shavings and tea.”
“It makes no sense — why would he go to so much trouble for an utterly transparent ruse?”
“For what it’s worth, I don’t think he knew. I think that he believed that he had the original virus and vaccine. I’m guessing they found him out and switched the vials.”
“That doesn’t track well. If they knew that he was going to betray them, they would have killed him, or at a very minimum, sent someone else.” McDaniels’s voice betrayed his anxiety. “Do you have anything for me, any good news?”
Martin tried to think of anything positive. ”We’ve started to culture the Colorado Springs virus. In a week, we should have enough to work with.”
“A week. I doubt that’s going to make the president’s day.”
“There are certain physical realities that limit us and wishing won’t change those. What about Amanda Flynn? She would be a tremendous help.”
“Yes, she would be, and we may be close to resolving that issue.” McDaniels’s voice was circumspect.
“You know where she is?” Martin said with surprise and accusation.
“It’s complicated. You don’t know all that’s going on; I don’t even know everything. All I know is that right now she is not an option. That may change soon.”
“It better be soon, because for the next week all we can do is sit on our asses. At this point, I’d buy a beer for the devil himself if he could help.”
“The devil, huh?” McDaniels asked.
“Anyone, in fact. I am now extending a blanket offer to anyone who can extricate our posteriors from this mess.”
“I will pass that on; in the meantime, I have something for you. We finished the background checks on Dr. Sabritas and Larry Strickland; both of them are clear, but Strickland had a girlfriend. .”
“Rachel Hill,” they both said at once. The dark-haired beauty was one of the secretaries who had filled in for Martha during her yearly two-week reserve deployment in early January. She had physical access to Martin’s computer and wouldn’t need much time to work out his passwords. The rumors of the tall and hunched Larry Strickland dating the exotically beautiful Rachel had even reached Martin’s ears.
“She’s your spy,” said McDaniels. “The real Rachel Hill disappeared when she was a junior at Georgetown two years ago, only to reappear in Tampa six months later. They probably killed her. The poor girl had no close family ties, and after several weeks, she was essentially forgotten. Your Rachel Hill has been quietly living someone else’s life ever since. Very clever, very discreet, only she wasn’t aware that the real Rachel Hill had at one point volunteered to be a bone marrow donor. She had type O positive blood. Your Rachel Hill is B negative — reasonably rare, except in certain ethnicities.”
“So now what do we do with her?”
“We will handle it, but I would like you to secure her for us,” McDaniels said without emotion or further explanation. “Please thank your secretary, Colonel Hays, for me. She pointed my people in the right direction; probably saved us a few days.”
The line went dead, and Martin wondered if all of McDaniels’s phone calls ended so abruptly.
The general had given Martha free rein to find the spy, and she had. There would be no living with her now. “Colonel, can I borrow a moment of your time?” Martin yelled loud enough for Martha to hear.
She appeared at his doorway, freshly showered and wearing surgical scrubs. Her hair was pulled back, and she looked ten years younger.
“Mrs. Hays, you clean up well,” he said.
“Maybe you should try it,” she said wryly, and he smiled. “Come on, what do you want? I have a photo shoot in five minutes.”
“That was the famous General McDaniels. He sent his greetings and thanks. Rachel Hill is not who she says she is.”
Martin quickly summarized their conversation.
“So she is the leak,” Martha said without surprise. “She always seemed ‘off’ to me.”
“You’re taking this well. Did I fail to mention that whoever she is, she had every intention of watching all of us die?” Martin was surprised by her utter lack of emotion.
“You want me to get her so we can beat her brains in?” Martha feigned to leave her favorite spot just inside his office door.
“Why don’t you ask her up here, but try and leave her brains where they’re at.” Martin forced a smile.
Ten minutes later, the tall and dark woman everyone had known as Rachel Hill walked into Martin’s office and sat in the only clear chair; behind her came Martha. Two armed security guards discreetly entered the outer office and took up station on either side of Martin’s door.
“Who are you?” Nathan asked without preamble.
She stared back at him with eyes as big as saucers, beautiful saucers. “Dr. Martin, you know who I am,” she said in a sweet, innocent voice that conveyed complete confusion. She looked up at Martha.
Martha finally displayed some emotion. “Drop the act. Rachel Hill disappeared four years ago in Washington. For all we know, you killed her.” The colonel of the army reserves had repositioned herself between Martin and the girl.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I am Rachel Hill.” Her voice cracked, and she began to shake. Her eyes welled up, and without warning, Martha slapped her face so hard that the guards jumped. She followed the slap with a left hook. Blood from the girl’s broken nose sprinkled across Martin’s desk, and Martha threw herself at the reeling young woman. Martin jumped to his feet, not sure how to respond to his secretary’s unprovoked violence. Thoughts of army “enhanced-interrogation techniques” raced through his mind.
“Grab her arms!” Martha yelled to one of the guards, and they both launched themselves at the pair of struggling women. They pinned the arms of pseudo-Rachel Hill behind the chair and quickly handcuffed her, which only made her start kicking and bucking in the chair. It took a couple more minutes to completely subdue her, and then Martha stood back up and tucked her scrubs back in. Everyone in the room was breathing hard.
“You want to explain to me what all that was about?” Martin’s voice was so high, he wondered if he was squeaking.
Martha was still out of breath and simply dropped a small handgun onto his desk. “I’m fairly sure that was meant for us.”
Everyone looked at the woman in the chair. Her long hair was strewn across her bloody face, and her scrub top was torn down the center, exposing her deep cleavage.
No one spoke, and Martin slowly returned to his chair and stared at her. She was older now; the façade of innocence slapped off her face. “Who are you?” he repeated.
She threw her hair back and glared at him, saying nothing.
They sat staring at each other for a long moment. “I think I am going to make a very powerful man angry,” Martin said, standing abruptly. He turned to Martha. “I’ll be back in a moment.”
It took him ten minutes to find everything he needed, and a handful of curious lab personnel followed him back to his office. “Here we are,” he said to Rachel Hill in a whimsical voice. “Now technically, I am a federal employee, and I probably shouldn’t be doing this, but what the hell. We’re all friends here, and you tried to kill us, twice.” He jabbed the needle into her arm.
Chapter 35
“Where is he?” Patton asked himself while looking out the broken third story window. After two hours of searching every inch of the hospital and its grounds, Reisch seemed to have vanished. “I’m telling you, he’s a magician,” he answered himself, and then pulled his hulking form back into the destroyed room.