Callsign: King (Jack Sigler) (Chesspocalypse #1)

As soon as they arrived at Fulbright’s “safe house,” Sara transferred the blood samples from her bag to the refrigerator. Less than an hour had passed since she and Fulbright had been whisked away from the hospital by helicopter. A short flight to a private airfield had followed, and almost immediately upon arriving, they had driven to a house in an upscale neighborhood in Bole, south of the city.

Sara felt like a piece of driftwood in a raging river. Caught in the current of events beyond her control, there was not even the illusion of choice. She clutched the specimen bag like a lifeline; at least that was something she understood. She had to keep the blood drawn from Felice Carter viable. Processing the specimens and learning what secrets they held would have to wait until the team showed up with the equipment.

That was what she kept telling herself.

But as she watched Fulbright’s face change during yet another phone conversation, she knew that wasn’t going to happen. When he finally rang off and turned to her, she quickly sat down.

“The fire started in the lab,” he said in a quiet voice. “They recovered five bodies, all badly burned. It wasn’t an accident. The police aren’t saying anything more, but there’s going to be an investigation.”

Sara closed her eyes and took a breath. She knew she should be shocked or sad, but she just couldn’t wrap her head around it. She had only left Frey and the others for a few minutes to assess the patient, and part of her believed that they were still there, waiting for her to return. It was almost too much to comprehend that they had all been ripped out of the world. She took another deep breath. “I have to make contact with CDC headquarters. I have to let them know what’s happened.”

Fulbright pursed his lips. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Whoever did this, they specifically targeted your team. They knew you were coming and they wanted to make sure you couldn’t get the job done. By now, they’ve probably had time to figure out that they didn’t complete that job, and that means they’ll be looking for you. We have to keep you off the radar.”

“I can’t do anything without equipment.”

Fulbright nodded. “We can order whatever you need and have it overnighted.”

“We’re talking very specialized equipment. Thousands of dollars. And I’ll still have to be able to uplink with the CDC in order to make sense of whatever I discover.”

“Money isn’t an issue. Right now, I’m more concerned with figuring out who’s behind this.”

A concealed vault door, equipped with both a numeric lock and a retinal scanning device, led to an austere computer room. Fulbright logged onto a desktop terminal and then, with Sara’s guidance, started ordering medical equipment from private sector supply companies. Sara kept her shopping list modest, and after about an hour had put together a field expedient research lab. Fulbright produced a platinum American Express card and paid for it all, as well as the hefty overnight shipping charges, without a second look.

“There’s nothing more you can do right now,” Fulbright told her when they had concluded. “You should get some rest. Maybe something to eat.”

She nodded perfunctorily. While they had been occupied with procuring the equipment, she had been able to cope, but now a wave of fatigue and loss was looming. The only way to stave off a crash was to keep busy, keep her mind engaged with the problem.

“Listen,” she said, pausing at the doorway. “I know somebody who might be able to help us sort this out. He has access to resources that…” She left the sentence hanging; if Fulbright was what she thought he was, he would understand.

And he seemed to. He regarded her thoughtfully. “This friend of yours…He works for the government, right?”

He leaned back in his chair and sighed. “I’m guessing you know a little something about interdepartmental rivalries. Sometimes agencies work against each other, usually unintentionally, and the left hand doesn’t know what the right is doing.”

“What’s your point?”

“Until I have a better idea who is behind all this, I really don’t know who to trust. This could have been an op sanctioned by another agency. We can’t trust anyone right now.”

Sara felt a flare of indignation. “Jack would never be involved in something like that.”

“I’m sure you’re right. But if we reach out to him, we might send up a red flag. Someone will put two and two together and compromise us.” Before she could protest again, his demeanor softened. “But this is all just theoretical. Whoever did this left footprints. Let me do some digging. As soon as we know who’s behind this, you can contact your friend.”

It wasn’t much of a concession, but the idea of being able to call Jack filled her with hope.

# # #

Sara awoke to find Fulbright, sitting in a chair opposite the sofa, quietly watching her. She was accustomed to waking up in strange places, and this was no different. Nevertheless, his scrutiny made her self-conscious. She rubbed her face and ran a hand through her spiky hair, trying to make herself a little more presentable, before acknowledging him.

“How long was I out?”

“A few hours,” he replied, with a subdued smile. “I’ve got some good news and some bad news. And some more bad news.”