Dead Love

16



George had directed her agents, already on the scene, to isolate the station in question, with no one but authorized personnel allowed in or out. George and Mark were in phone contact with those inside the station manager’s office and those on the platform. All FBI agents in the area in question were wearing special breathing masks with hoods for protection against any dangerous airborne contaminants, including chemical, biological, radiological, or nuclear. Additionally, they were fully armed. George had spoken to Regional Homeland Security Director, Tom Bennett, several times, assuring him that she would call the moment they knew anything further.

A sweep of the area had been completed, and the canister and bag in which it had been discarded had been placed in a secure biohazard container and was en route by chopper to the FBI Laboratory Services in Quantico, Virginia. The FBI lab had a quick response team that specialized in forensic science, including chemical, biological, explosive, and various hazardous materials. The FBI investigating team was gathering samples from t he subway platform, placing them in sealed bags, to ascertain whether any weapons grade agent contamination was present.

Marty, Joey, and the other subway workers who were on duty at the time of discovery were instructed to remain in the station office and wait until further notice. The few passengers who had been waiting on the platform were mingling, talking in low tones to each other or on cell phones, calling their workplace, office, or family and friends, alarmed and scared, seeing these masked figures swabbing the area and doing whatever they were doing. It looked like a scene out of a bad science fiction movie.

Joey was feeling so frightened, somewhat queasy, and nervous about what was happening. He called Donna, knowing that she probably had been watching the news, and explained that it was just an “unknown spray can or something,” and that it was a precautionary shutdown.

He admitted that he was a little upset, and she said, “It is probably nothing, Joey,” but she didn’t want him to worry or know how concerned she was.

“Kiss Rosa for me,” he asked.

Donna said, “I will. I love you, Joey.”

“You too, sweetheart.”

After the call, Joey walked over to Marty, who was getting some coffee, and said, “Hey, Marty, what do you think is going on?”

Marty held the warm cup in his hands and said, “Dunno, Joey, but I don’t like it.”

Joey said, “Me either, and honestly, I’m not feeling so good.”

“What do you mean?” Marty looked Joey square in the face and saw that he was pale and sweating a lot.

“I am sick at my stomach and feel crummy. Maybe it is my nerves.”

Marty said, “Look, have a cup of tea. That settles my stomach. Just go relax on the couch. All this craziness makes me edgy, too. Plus, I gotta report on all this shit. Just take it easy. We are all feeling the pressure.”

Joey said, “Sure, Marty.” He didn’t think the tea would help, but he would give it a shot.

Joey saw the box of teabags, grabbed one, and filled a mug with hot water from the industrial sized urn. He dropped the teabag in the cup, grabbed a packet of soda crackers, and headed to the couch. He was glad to get off his feet. One of the other workers was there, waiting like the rest of them.

“Hey, Eddie, how are you feeling?” asked Joey.

Eddie was impatient and said, “I am sick of waiting and not knowing what is going on.”

His eyes were glued to the small TV, sitting on an old card table against the wall across from them. Other guys were watching too, sitting in chairs, scattered around the crowded, stuffy office. Occasionally there would be a news bulletin about the subway shutdown, and there was a steady crawl of information going across the bottom of the screen, with the announcement of Breaking News highlighted in yellow.

Eddie heard the cup hit the floor, shatter, and hot tea splattered on his feet.

“Shit, man, look what you did, a*shole.” Then he saw Joey tumble sideways, falling off the couch, hitting his head on the worn brown carpet, landing on the broken cup, his vomit mixing with the wet tea stain.


17



Ft. Detrick, in Maryland, code name, Area A, conducts biomedical research and is home to the Bio-Defense Agency, the US Army Medical Research and Material Command, and the US Army Medical Research Institute of Infectious Diseases. Most Americans don’t know of its purpose or even its existence.

All biological weaponry is initially evaluated at Ft. Detrick and is then transported to the Aberdeen Proving Ground for testing and development of “Collective Protection Systems.” The deadly samples are safely stored in a special “security access only” containment lab, located at the Edgewood Laboratory facility at the APG. The Edgewood lab, the Edgewood Chemical and Biological Center, is run by the military, and security is stringent, especially since 9/11. The deliveries of weapon grade agents normally occur at one a.m. when the building is empty except for skeleton staff members and military police. These items are received by assigned chemists, expert in the handling and storage of these lethal toxins and bio-agents.

The deadly agents are obtained from various places, often from combat zones or other sources, such as foreign terrorist cells. Numerous “Weapons of Mass Destruction” were discovered in Iraq after the overthrow of Saddam Hussein, but the knowledge of the recovery operation was top secret. The development of toxins and biological weapons is also a role of the Edgewood Laboratories, but this is highly classified. Due to all of its functions, the Edgewood Lab would be a perfect target. Therefore, the highest levels of security are mandatory.

Dr. Suzy Chen, as assistant director of research and development, in charge of Edgewood testing procedures, had often been present to receive the transfers from Detrick to the Edgewood lab facility. She would, as required by safety standard operating procedures, wear proper full hooded protection during these transfers. Several months earlier she had formulated her plan, so she knew which specimens were being delivered and when. She had arranged to be on duty the night a certain “item” was being transferred. She had arrived early and went to the storage room where the Level A Protective Suits were kept. The hooded gear was cumbersome, especially with the attached air supply breathing apparatus, but it was necessary. After suiting up, she walked to the loading dock. She waited nervously and heard the exchange of radio messages coordinating the arrival of the truck from Detrick. She heard loud beeping as the delivery truck backed up to the loading ramp and one of the regular armed military guards raised the large door that opened onto the dock. She nodded to the driver and said hello to his partner as he moved the sturdy wheeled cart off the truck ramp and inside the building.

“Thanks,” said Suzy to Bob, one of the regular delivery personnel.

He got back into the unmarked truck, and the guard closed the doors. Easy does it, she said to herself. She had maintained her professional but friendly demeanor, and with great caution, she moved the wheeled cart from the guarded loading dock to the storage facility on the ground floor of the main building, which also housed the extensive secured laboratory. Two military guards accompanied her to the lab and then returned to their post at the delivery site. Armed guards were posted at the entrance doors to the lab as well.

Under the suit, around her waist, was hidden a small Velcro sealed pouch with a duplicate container. The “phonied” vial was ready for exchange with the “hot” vial. All she needed was one vial of the deadly Viral Agent X. All the vials had been safely sealed for transport. As planned, her clandestine work would begin soon. She only needed to work on the delivery system and felt confident that she could manage that easily. Her lab at home was small but well equipped, and she could handle the process.

She followed normal procedure, unlocking the cooled containment room, and she quickly placed the vials in their prepared and marked chemical biohazard storage unit. No one had seen her slip one vial of Agent X under her suit and replace it with the phony. She was aware of the hidden cameras and knew the angle necessary to camouflage the exchange.

“Done,” she exclaimed to herself, with a self-satisfied exhalation.

Agent X had been transported, chilled in the -78.5 degrees C with dry ice. Her plan for getting the vial out of Edgewood involved secreting it in an ordinary thermos until she could get it into cold storage in the small laboratory in the locked closet of her condominium basement.


18



Suzy had invited Max for dinner that Friday night in March, and it was understood that they would spend the weekend together. That is how it had been since they had started dating several months ago. She delighted in preparing meals for him, such as the one she was serving tonight. The candlelight dinner would include his favorites: filet mignon with Béarnaise sauce, au gratin potatoes, grilled asparagus tips, and a fresh garden salad with homemade blue cheese dressing. There were soft rolls with butter, and for dessert, assorted pastries and miniature cheesecakes with fresh strawberries. He was bringing a Chilean merlot, and of course, their favorite aperitif, Grand Marnier.

She timed the meal perfectly and had most everything ready except for the steaks and asparagus. Those would be grilled at the last minute. The potatoes were warming in the oven, the salad was in the refrigerator, and her table was set beautifully, with a lovely mixed floral bouquet and sparkling crystal candleholders with white tapers that matched the damask tablecloth and napkins.

After a warm shower, Suzy dressed in her sexiest black lace thong panties and black strapless demi-cup bra, black capris, and a white off the shoulder cashmere sweater with three-quarter length sleeves. Diamond drop earrings were her only jewelry and they shimmered against her long black hair. Black spiked heels completed her ensemble. She loved dressing for him. After adding red lipstick and heavy eyeliner and mascara to accentuate her exotic almond eyes, she touched perfume to her wrists and cleavage. Now she just had to double check on dinner and wait for him. She was breathless and couldn’t believe this wonderful man was in her life.

Suzy was impatient to see Max. She wanted to feel his touch and his mouth on hers. He was all she could think about every moment of each day. He should arrive soon but Suzy knew traffic was heavy on Fridays with commuters leaving Washington. The drive would probably take at least an hour and a half.

Suzy’s cell phone rang and she saw it was Max.

“Hey, baby. Where are you?” she asked. She was so happy to hear his voice.

“I’m just punching in the security code at the entrance. I’ll be there in a few minutes,” he said.

“Hurry,” she said, and hung up.

As she opened the door, he couldn’t restrain from embracing her, his arms so tight around her, his mouth on hers, his tongue in her mouth, and she gave herself to him completely. Their deep wet kisses heightened their desire. He slid his hand under her sweater, touching her firm round breasts. Still holding her, he leaned against the front door to close it. He kept his mouth on hers, licking her lips, sucking her tongue, devouring her as he unzipped her capris and slid them off. He pushed her hard against the wall. His kisses could make her come, but she wanted to feel him inside her.

She kept saying, “Max, I want you, now.”

Max whispered, “I want you, baby.”

He was out of control. He ripped her panties off, unzipped his pants, and lifted her, her legs wrapped around his waist. He entered her, both of them panting. He moved inside of her, and she responded, and moved against him with each thrust, until they both reached their peaks of desire. Neither wanted to let go or stop. She felt his hot liquid inside her and loved that part of him that was now part of her. She knew she was his for the taking, now and forever. They stayed together, with lingering kisses, sliding to the floor. He was tender, loving, kissing her, telling her she was his, and no one could touch her but him, ever. She belonged to him.

Later, after their sumptuous candlelit meal, they sat nestled close together in her cozy den, sipping the richness of the Grand Marnier, while listening to classical music. They were learning about each other’s backgrounds, and Suzy told him about her heritage, her early years with her family, the trips they made to Hong Kong, and why she had pursued her career path. Max was a bit older, almost twelve years, but it made no difference. He was all she wanted, a steady hand at the helm of her unsteady life. She hoped he would never let go.


19



The phone rang, startling Mike. He had been concentrating on the article he was editing for Science Today magazine.

He picked up his cell phone. “Mike Ryan speaking.”

“Mr. Ryan, this is Jane Phillips, head nurse at Johns Hopkins University Hospital emergency room in Baltimore.” Mike was familiar with the world-renowned teaching hospital and biomedical research facility.

Mike quickly responded. “Yes, how can I help you?” he asked, thinking it was a call about his recent article on stem cell research.

“Mr. Ryan, your wife, Maggie, has been admitted, and we would like your permission to treat her,” she said.

Mike, shocked, exclaimed, “There’s some mistake. My wife, a flight attendant, is working a flight to Miami. You must have another patient by that name.”

“No, Mr. Ryan, your wife became ill on the flight. The plane made an unscheduled landing in Baltimore, and she was transported to our facility for treatment. She is currently stable, but unconscious, and has many symptoms that resemble a severe virus. Century Air operations will be calling you shortly, but they wanted to get her treated and made the quick decision to bring her here before placing calls. It all happened suddenly. Her flight has continued on to Miami, and the crew will call you upon arrival. They knew you would be very concerned.”

“Please tell me what is going on.” He was standing, becoming quite upset.

“Mr. Ryan,” Nurse Phillips continued, “your wife is getting the best care possible. She is in isolation since we aren’t sure if she is contagious. We are running tests, and we have an excellent team of doctors and nurses taking care of her.” Her voice was reassuring, and Mike was beginning to feel less anxious. “Is there any medical history we need to know about, and is she currently taking any medications?”

He answered, “No, nothing. She has always been very healthy.” His voice trailed off. “I need to get there. I will leave right away and be there as soon as possible,” he said.

She told him where to find Maggie at the hospital.

“Please don’t worry. At this point, it may be a matter of dehydration, low blood sugar, or anything. I know it is difficult to comprehend at this point, but being calm is best for you and your wife until we have more facts.”

“Of course, you are right.” He began to process what she had said. “We have two boys in school. I will arrange for our sitter to pick them up and then get there as soon as I can. Please call me if there is any news of her condition.”

As he hung up, he got another call. It was Century crew scheduling, chief of operations, Dwight Hatfield, a familiar voice, since he would often call Maggie if there was a schedule change or if she was “on call” to fill in when another FA couldn’t make his or her flight.

“Mike, this is Hatfield.”

“Yes, Dwight. I just heard. What happened?” he asked.

“Maggie fainted, and John Wesley made the decision to land at BWI, just to make sure she’s okay. There was a pediatrician on board, who checked her over, but he felt she needed to get to a hospital quickly, in case her condition suddenly deteriorated,” he explained.

“Nothing else? Are you sure, Dwight?” asked Mike, his stomach tightening.

“That’s it, Mike. You know what I know. John made the decision, and you know him. He is cautious and won’t take chances, so it is probably nothing. He values his crew and felt it was in everyone’s best interest to get Maggie checked out.” Dwight was reassuring.

“Gotcha,” said Mike. “I am going to Baltimore now, so I will let you all know.”

“Thanks,” said Dwight, knowing that he and the crew would be following up on Maggie’s status anyway.

Thankfully, Mike reached the sitter, Annie, who lived in their building and frequently babysat for them.

She loved the boys, and they loved her. He called the school to notify the administration so the boys would be aware that Annie would be waiting to walk them home. He didn’t give any details so that Mike and Tim wouldn’t be upset. Until he knew what was going on, he was going to keep things calm, but he was anything but calm. His thoughts went to the terrorist threat of the NYC subway system, and Mike prayed to God that it had nothing to do with Maggie’s illness.


20



Georgiana’s cell phone rang. She and Mark were sitting in his Mustang, parked by the curb, about twenty-five yards from the subway entrance. It was one of their agents, calling from inside the suspected contaminated area.

“Georgiana Reed here,” she answered.

“This is Al, George. We have a problem. Joey Caruso, the maintenance guy who found the canister. He’s down. Sick and vomiting. Unconscious. We need the medical team to come in and get him.”

The medevac helicopter was waiting on a nearby rooftop. George called for transport.

George said, “Crap, this is going to get bad.”

The squad went into action, biohazard gear in place, carrying the portable stretcher down the stairway to the subway office. All precautions had been taken as they brought Joey out, in an isolation hood, and loaded him carefully into the unmarked van, which would take him to the heliport.

Inside the office, Marty and the others had watched as Joey was put on an IV drip and oxygen, covered with a protective hood, and then carried out. They were silent, watching this scary scene, all aware that they could be next, wondering if they too had been exposed to a dangerous poison or God knows what.

After Joey was gone, the FBI forensics team took samples and placed them in secure evidence bags. Duplicate samples were secured for the CDC. The hazmat crew thoroughly cleaned the carpet and sofa where Joey had been sitting. The team leader spoke quietly to Marty, asking for Joey’s personal information and then left to follow up the transfer of Joey to the ambulance. Marty, the two police officers, and the other guys were still in shock.

Then Marty spoke, knowing his job was to rally his men and get everyone to shake this off and think rationally, especially since they had no idea what caused Joey to suddenly get so sick.

“Okay, guys, lighten up. Joey probably has the flu or something, and that’s all. We will find out soon enough what’s up, and then we can get back to business as usual. He is probably just hung over.”

Some of the guys laughed, which lowered the tension level a little.

Marty continued, “In the meantime, we should enjoy the peace and quiet, relax, and watch some TV or play cards, or something. Right?”

Marty appeared to be upbeat, and the guys began to relax a little. Deep inside, Marty wasn’t sure, but until they knew what was what, he saw no need to overreact. Marty had to call Donna, though. He would downplay what happened, saying Joey felt queasy, and they were taking him to the doctor, just to be sure. He didn’t know exactly where Joey was being treated, so he didn’t have to lie. Donna would have to stay home with the baby anyway. Marty didn’t want to think the worst but he was scared.