“How’d it go?” Camilla asked as they walked into the kitchen.
“Good, I guess,” Sarah replied. “Now I remember why I didn’t go to med. school.”
Mike handed her a glass of wine.
The four of them sat around the table in silence for a few minutes until Sarah said, “I think we need to talk about a contingency plan.”
“What makes you say that?” Mike asked as he abruptly stopped the overly full glass from meeting his lips, spilling some wine in his lap. “Surely we should carry on with the plan as it is. Making last minute changes now sounds risky.”
Sarah noticed the nervousness in Mike’s voice. Why was he so worried about creating a contingency plan? She still didn’t trust him and vowed again to keep a very close eye on him. “It’s best to be prepared,” Sarah replied.
“We should be safe here,” Mike said. “I don’t see any reason to move from here or change plans at this stage.”
“I know that, and we probably will be safe, but let’s talk about it just in case.”
DAY 7 – SATURDAY, JULY 4
12:06 am Massachusetts General Boston, Massachusetts
Pell had no idea what the time was – the floor was dark and quiet. He had been staring at the ceiling for a length of time that he couldn’t begin to define. The dim lights of his monitoring equipment flickering on the suspended ceiling tiles and the steady sounds of the equipment put him into a trance – as if he were sleeping with his eyes open. The sedatives most certainly played a role in this feeling.
A hand clamped over his mouth.
He stared into his assailant’s pale blue eyes, inches from his own – Carl Moscovitz. A black ski mask covered his face, but it was that bastard, no doubt about it. His pointy nose poked through the woven fabric.
“Hi, Pell,” he said in a whispered nasally whine. “Surprised to see me?”
Pell stared back at him – defenseless.
“How did you find out about me?” Carl spat.
When he didn’t respond, Carl shook his head violently.
“Was it one of my men? Shake your head or nod you son of a bitch. Was it OIA?”
Pell refused to give him the satisfaction of an answer.
“I always knew you were worthless,” Carl said as he pulled a hypodermic needle from his pocket. He removed the protective tip and brought his face down next to Pell’s. “This is for Allen Jenkins,” he whispered into Pell’s ear. “And me.”
The needle pierced his skin next to an IV line so that the puncture hole would look like a first unsuccessful attempt on the IV. Carl knew all the tricks. Pell struggled briefly, but his body soon felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. Carl released him and stood up. Pell gasped. Central nervous system paralysis had set in.
He watched Carl blow him a kiss before leaving the room. His senses left him almost all at the same time. The last one to go was his sight. He could see the frantic nurses running into his room but that too was soon gone. Agent Paul Pelletier would never get to enjoy his new-found sobriety or an early retirement; he died at nine minutes past twelve.
12:15 am PDT Eureka, California
Chris woke up expecting the pain in his arm to be much worse than before, but to his surprise it actually felt better. It still hurt, but it was a good pain, as if his body understood that it could now heal properly. As he sat up in his bed, he realized that he wasn’t alone.
He could hear the light breathing of someone standing just inside the shadowy doorway. It was too dark to see who until the form moved closer and sat down on the edge of the bed.
“What…” Chris started to say, but a hand quickly covered his mouth.
“You are not alone,” Albert said.
“You gave me the note?” Chris said through Albert’s hand.
“Are you going to be quiet?” He asked in his crisp speech.
Chris nodded and Albert removed his hand.
“Good,” he continued. “We don’t have much time so I want you to listen to me carefully.”
Again Chris nodded and Albert continued, “I knew you followed me up from Malibu, Chris. I let you do it.”
“You knew? Why?”
“I thought you were with the FBI.”
Chris contemplated this for a moment. “So you wanted the FBI to come here? I don’t understand.”
“It was a spur of the moment thing. I don’t know what I was thinking. That’s why I lost you there at the end. On the drive up here I considered what I was doing and bringing in the Feds at that point was definitely the wrong thing to do.”
“I’m not following you,” Chris said.
“Look, I don’t want Gen96 to succeed. I understand where they’re coming from and I appreciate their reasoning. I really do but I can’t accept the method. It’s too…” he paused for a second, letting his gaze fall on Chris’ freshly bandaged wound and said, “…unnatural.”
“So why don’t you call the cops?”
“I could never hurt Camilla. I worked for her parents when they were alive and I have been here for her since she was born. I basically raised her. She’s like my own flesh and blood. I promised her parents I would always look after her and, to that end, I would never be, could never be, a part of her incarceration.”
Chris nodded as he considered the implications of what Albert was saying.
“At first I figured this was all just an idealistic project. Camilla can be very intense and focused when she wants to be and, besides, I assumed the premise was impossible. Creating a virus to control the population? Come on, it sounds unbelievable and, frankly, I figured Sarah was taking their money in some kind of long play scam. But the past few years, as it has become apparent that it could actually happen, that they could succeed, I’ve been trying to convince Camilla to drop this. To get out before it was too late but I couldn’t get through to her. She was committed, more than ever, and there was no way I was going to change her mind. So, instead, I’ve made it my job to protect her from whatever the consequences of this terrible plan are. Right now, I’m getting a very bad feeling about all of this and all the outcomes I can envision involve lawyers, jail or worse.”
“Tell me about it,” Chris said. “I’m so done with this whole thing. I want out of it all. Look at me. I’ve been beaten, shot, tortured, drugged. Jesus, I’m lucky to be alive! I was just fishing and now I’m here with you and all this.” He held up his bandaged arm and pointed to the wound on his head.
Albert swiped his hand across his bald scalp. “Whatever happens, I can’t let Camilla suffer the consequences. I have to protect her.”
“Look, Albert, I’m still woozy from those drugs and my brain isn’t firing on all cylinders. Just come out with it. Say what you are trying to say.”
“I’m saying we’ve got to stop this madness but not at the expense of Camilla’s freedom.”
“So just let her go?” Chris asked. “Without her, none of this would be happening. She’s as responsible as Sarah Burns.”
“No she’s not.”
“She is. Whether or not you want to admit it is a different thing. She financed them. No financing, no virus and no virus and none of us are here, David Rose is alive and I’m still fishing at my camp. Do you see it?”
“She’s a victim. She got caught—”
“Give me a break. I’m a victim, not her.”
Albert glared at Chris silently, there’s nothing like facts to kill a ridiculous argument. Chris continued, “She’s, at the least, complicit but you and I know she’s much more than that.”