“No, I feel fine. Don’t worry about me.” She put her hand on her purse and jiggled it. “Remember, I’ve got a whole pharmacy in here.” Then, she added, “Hey, why don’t you finish your saga.”
He took a deep breath. She was making an effort to keep calm; he appreciated that. “Where did I leave off?”
“Quarantine and Xavier Pope.”
“Ah yes, quarantine. It was strange because even though I exhibited no symptoms, they kept me locked up anyway. At first I thought it was just a precaution, a way to safeguard everyone else in case I was contagious, but by the end of the second week, the hospital had transformed into the Twilight Zone. I asked to be discharged and my request was refused. I asked to be transferred out of quarantine, and instead they posted a security guard outside the door to my room. I asked for phone and Internet access, and they told me I was not authorized to communicate with anyone until I was cleared from quarantine.”
“They wouldn’t let you make a phone call?”
“No.”
“Will, this is highly unusual. I don’t understand,” she said. “The CDC has rules and protocols to follow. They can’t deny you your basic human rights.”
“Maybe on paper they can’t, but they did. They stalled for two weeks. Every time I asked for a status report, they told me in twenty-four to forty-eight hours I could expect the necessary paperwork to be issued by the CDC for my release from quarantine. That was just a line to keep me placated. Eventually, I got fed up and demanded to be released. I shouted and pounded on the door, but they were like robots. Everyone, except for Xavier Pope. He put on a pressurized biohazard suit and came into the room to talk to me.”
“What did he say?”
“He told me that they could not release me because the level of virus in my bloodstream had not decreased. He said that they did not understand why I was asymptomatic, but that I was a carrier and that the virus was dangerous. He said I would be a Typhoid Mary and that the lab technician who had taken my blood had contracted the mutated virus and died within forty-eight hours. He asked me if I wanted my legacy to be remembered as Swine Flu Foster. I said no, of course not, but that I refused to spend the rest of my life in quarantine. He said he would personally guarantee that would not happen and assured me that they would check my blood every twenty-four hours. Once the live virus was not detectable, then the government would authorize my release. Until that day, he said, I would be living like a rat in cage. He apologized repeatedly and asked what he could do to make my stay more comfortable. I told him that I wanted a TV and a mobile phone. They brought me a TV.”
“If it was anyone other than you telling me this, I wouldn’t believe it. This is all so unorthodox. They were holding you prisoner.”
“Pretty much.”
“What happened next?”
“Next, I was drugged and woke up in Prague. Of course, I didn’t know it was Prague at the time, because nobody told me anything. What they did tell me was that I had been transferred to a secure military hospital. And, they changed their story about the virus, now claiming that it was not a naturally occurring H1N1 mutation, but by a biologically engineered variant of unknown origin. I was told that my case fell under government jurisdiction, and I was going to remain in quarantine for additional testing. That’s when it began.”
“What began?”
“The injections,” he said.
“What kind of injections?”
“I’m not sure. That’s something I was hoping you could help me figure out. Do you think that traces would still be in my bloodstream?”
“It depends on what the substances were,” she said.
“If we can solve the mystery of the injections, then we can solve the mystery of why I was put in quarantine.”
“Then we better start looking. When we get to my apartment, I’ll draw a blood sample and take it to my lab for testing. If you were injected with something unusual or dangerous, antigens will show up in a blood panel. If you’re infected with mutated H1N1, or anything else for that matter, then we’ll know. We need answers, and you need peace of mind.”
“Okay, I’m in. But you need to understand, that the people we’re up against are powerful, dangerous people. I don’t think we’re dealing with the CDC anymore. Everything I was told in quarantine was subterfuge. This is a conspiracy that crosses continents. If they can put me in quarantine and smuggle me out of the United States without anybody knowing a thing about it, then God only knows what else they’re capable of. If we’re not careful, you’ll end up like me… a fugitive.”
Her face softened and she seemed close to tears.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
“No, tell me.”
She swallowed. “It’s just that you’re not alone in this. I’m with you.”
Dormant feelings he thought lost and forgotten washed over him. His emotions were a raging river, dragging his mind toward a dangerous cascade. To stay one step ahead of his enemies, he needed to stay focused, free his mind from distraction. Emotion was a liability, passion a luxury, neither of which he could afford. If he somehow managed to survive unscathed, then and only then, would he think about rekindling a relationship with Julie. His first priority was evading capture long enough to unravel the mystery behind his quarantine.
He exhaled. Trust was a splinter digging in his mind. Could he trust Julie unconditionally as he once had? Could he trust her with his secret? His hand instinctively went to the one remaining vial in his pocket. He had not told her everything. It was prudent to be cautious, he told himself, even with Julie. He would dole out information as he deemed necessary. What was the military expression? On a need-to-know basis. Was Julie being equally cautious? Was she hiding secrets too? If so, he wondered, what was she was not telling him?
Chapter Eighteen
“BMW Seven series. I should’ve guessed.” AJ mumbled as he stepped out of the NIATROSS and onto the airport tarmac in Prague, squinting in the early morning sun.
“760Li to be precise, equipped with special order security and comms packages,” Kalen said, standing beside him. “I spec’d it out myself. Do you like?”
“Does a baby like milk? The black on black with privacy glass tint is a nice touch too. It says I’m dangerous and pretentious.”
“Actually, I was going for ‘Outta my way, asshole.’” Kalen grinned. “But these wheels aren’t for me. I prefer to ride alone.”
The whir of a high revving Diavel Testastretta 11˚ engine pierced the night. A helmeted rider on a black Ducati Diavel Carbon rocketed onto the tarmac and then abruptly came to a stop next to the parked BMW.
“This job is not about the money,” Kalen said as he walked toward the motorcycle. “It’s about the toys.”
AJ shook his head. He turned to Albane who had walked up to stand next to him. “Is he always like that?”
“No. He’s usually much more excitable,” she said.
From inside the BMW they heard VanCleave yell, “Every minute we delay increases the cone of uncertainty for Foster’s position.”
AJ looked at Albane and raised an eyebrow. “Is he always like that?”
“Unfortunately, yes.” Albane began walking toward the black BMW. “Let’s go. We have plague victims to interview, and I fear our window of opportunity may be closing.”
A tall blonde woman with a Russian accent and horned rimmed eyeglasses greeted the team as they stepped out of the BMW. “My name is Veronika Viskaya. I work inside the Ministry of Health. I contacted your Coordinator, Mr. Parish, a few hours ago when your team was en route. I am assuming that he has fully briefed you on the situation here, but if you have any questions for me before we go in, now is the time to ask.”