Nefarious (The Blackwell Files Book 1) (14 page)

CHAPTER 40

Alpharetta, Georgia

Alton’s cell phone began playing “Remember Me,” the ditty he had enjoyed with Mallory back in Kabul. He picked it up.

“Hello,” he mumbled.

“Ah…Captain Blackwell. It’s Sergeant Lambert.”

“Lambert. You do realize it’s four thirty in the morning, right?”

“Listen, Captain, you’re not gonna believe this,” came the torrent of words. “I was camping, and then I was woke up by some kind of weird artillery. And then I saw this big honkin’ fence with concertina wire, just like the green zone back in Kabul. And then I saw these guys in MOPP suits, all spread out in a V formation. And then they started using these freaky machines to lay down some kind of gas or napalm or something. I think some of it got on me, and I got really dizzy. The dudes must have been insurgents, but I never saw insurgents wear MOPP gear before. And then a chariot came down from the sky, and Elijah was on it and spoke to me, and then he went back to heaven, just the way my mom used to describe it.” The rush of words was too much, and Lambert was prevented from further speech by a series of drawn-out, wheezing coughs.

“Lambert, how do you feel now?” asked Alton. “Are you still lightheaded?”

“Yes, sir. Captain, can you come get me? I’m having trouble breathing—it’s like I can’t suck in enough air. I don’t wanna die out here.”

“Do you still have the coordinates of your location in your phone?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Send them to me. I’ll call emergency and then head straight for you. I’ll call you back as soon as I’m off the phone with nine-one-one.”

Zach sent his location but never answered the return call. By the time Alton and the EMTs arrived, the body was already surprisingly cold. Alton shook his head in frustration and answered the questions posed by EMT Walter Davis.

“Did he use recreational drugs?” asked Davis.

“He enjoyed his Heineken, but if he took drugs, I was never aware of it. They certainly didn’t impact his work quality, if he did.”

“How would you describe his state of mind recently?”

“He was having some issues returning to civilian life but overall seemed to be handling them reasonably well. He and his wife divorced a few months ago. He was a little depressed about that and about coming state-side in general. That’s why he wanted to come out here: to find some peace. Overall, he had some issues, but he certainly didn’t seem suicidal.”

“Could he have been experimenting with drugs?” asked Davis. “Perhaps to help him get over the blues? Maybe something went wrong. He took too much, for instance, or the drugs were contaminated.”

“I suppose it’s possible,” admitted Alton. “Something certainly altered his mental status. He thought he was back in his unit in Afghanistan and that a scene from the Old Testament came to life in front of him. He clearly had impaired mental abilities, but I never would have pegged him for a drug user. It’s funny…back in Kabul, heroin was the biggest export and was pretty available in-country, too, but Lambert never touched it. I saw Nahim Agha’s goons offer him some of their best stuff—he always said no.”

CHAPTER 41

Durham, North Carolina

As soon as they learned of Lambert’s death, Polo and Sunglasses held a hastily called tête-à-tête, this time at a little league baseball game.

“We’ve had a death, dammit!” hissed Polo. “What do you think of our brilliant ‘stay-the-course’ strategy now?”

Sunglasses regarded his counterpart steadily. “We continue to stay the course. It’s unfortunate—very unfortunate—that the young man was accidentally exposed. Who would have guessed anyone would be practically on top of the testing site in such a remote location? And that he would react so severely?”

“What if his death is traced back to us? We’re not just looking at penalties anymore. We could be talking jail time.”

Sunglasses considered for a moment before he spoke. “No one will suspect Lambert’s death was induced by an experimental vaccine. It will look like a hiker over-exerted himself and paid the price. Even if the coroner’s office performs an autopsy, what can they prove? The symptoms could be the result of a dozen natural causes, all tragic but none requiring the presence of an outside agent. Besides, how do you test for an experimental drug whose very existence is known to only a handful of people?

“I wish we could somehow fix Lambert’s death, but we can’t. So now we face a choice: do we cancel the project, and let rabies continue to ravage our planet, or do you and I remember why we’re working on this project in the first place and press ahead? I say press ahead. The fundamental reasons haven’t changed.”

“All right,” said Polo reluctantly, “but I’ll be glad when we’ve figured out how to eliminate the human side effects. It feels like we’re walking through a minefield right now—one bad step, and someone else ends up dead or injured.”

CHAPTER 42

Grady Hospital, Atlanta, Georgia

A week after Lambert’s untimely death, Alton placed a telephone call. “Dr. Grayson, this is Alton Blackwell. I was friends with Zach Lambert. I believe you performed his autopsy earlier this week. I faxed you the HIPAA forms his parents had signed so I could inquire about his cause of death.”

“Hello, Mr. Blackwell,” replied the doctor. “Yes, I received the forms.”

Alton cut straight to the chase. “The on-scene medics suspected drug use, but that wasn’t Lambert’s style.”

“Your friend presented a considerable challenge, Mr. Blackwell. The toxicology came back clean—no drugs.”

“At least he didn’t die from an overdose—that will be a comfort to his parents. But he was experiencing hallucinations just before he died. I know. I spoke with him myself on the phone. Were you able to establish an affirmative cause of death?”

“Yes, but it’s surprising. Zach died from a cerebral hemorrhage, which would cause the mental confusion you just described.”

“Bleeding in the brain,” mused Alton, “and why is that surprising, Dr. Grayson?”

“It’s very unlikely for a man of his age and physical condition. He was young and fit. Generally, a cerebral hemorrhage is associated with head trauma—which he didn’t have—or symptoms associated with advanced age or poor health, such as high blood pressure or liver disease. It’s also caused by bleeding diseases like hemophilia, but he didn’t have a family history of that. It’s really a head-scratcher that he should die from such a cause.”

“Thanks very much. I’ll share all this with his parents.” Alton hung up the phone and pondered. His gut told him that he didn’t have a complete answer to the question of Lambert’s cause of death, but he wasn’t sure what further steps he could take to discover the truth.

CHAPTER 43

Outside Cohutta National Forest, Northern Georgia

At the request of Zach’s parents, Alton journeyed to the deserted campsite several days later to gather Lambert’s personal belongings, which had been hastily left there on the night of his passing. Several of Lambert’s belongings were obtained in Afghanistan, and as Alton placed them in the backpack, memories of his comrade—and the soldierly brotherhood they had shared—flooded Alton’s thoughts.

Alton was still unsatisfied with the coroner’s report, but he had never doubted that Lambert’s imagination had run wild as his brain’s oxygen deprivation had worsened, causing his mind to invent the fantastic events he had described on that fateful night.

Alton was quite surprised, therefore, to hear nearby voices in such a lonely place. Curious, he padded as lightly as his limp would allow in the direction of the voices and soon reached the razor-wired fence.

“I’ll be damned,” said Alton, rubbing his chin. “At least part of what Lambert said was real. If I see Elijah coming down in a chariot, though, I’m checking myself into a psychiatric hospital.”

He approached the fence and moved along its perimeter. Eventually he spotted four men wearing nearly-complete sets of “MOPP” gear, the military’s charcoal suits, rubber gloves, and gas masks used to provide protection against biological and chemical hazards. Alton had been issued his own set while in the service. The men had stored their gas masks in pouches attached to their sides and stood talking.

In the distance, an air horn emitted a long, low blast, and the men immediately donned their masks. Alton had originally attributed all of Lambert’s dying statements to the mental confusion attendant with the onset of his cerebral hemorrhage. Enough of Lambert’s story had proved to be true, however, to convince Alton to beat a hasty retreat. He slung Lambert’s backpack over his shoulder and began jogging as best he could in the direction of his car.

CHAPTER 44

Alpharetta, Georgia

Alton pondered the events he had witnessed at Zach Lambert’s campsite but could not reach any definite conclusions. He wondered whether Mallory would be able to help shed any light on Lambert’s death. She was an FBI agent after all.

After a few minutes’ deliberation, he placed a call.

“Hi, Mallory, it’s Alton. How are you?”

“Hey, Buddy! I’m fine,” she replied. “Two calls in a week? What’s up? Are you okay?”

Alton laughed. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

After catching up and trading small talk for a few minutes, Alton broached the reason for his call. He described the night of Lambert’s death, the curious autopsy results, and his return visit to the campsite.

“So essentially I’ve corroborated many of Lambert’s dying statements,” he concluded, “but I still don’t know how—or even if—the activities behind the fence are related to his death. Did he really come in contact with something from behind the fence? He said he was blown over, but there was no residue on him or his clothes—none that the police could detect, at least. I don’t know enough to prove a connection, but I feel uneasy just letting things drop the way they are.”

After a pause, he continued, “Of all the soldiers under my field command in Afghanistan, only two made it home alive. Lambert was one of them. I feel like I owe it to his parents and his memory to fully understand what caused his death and to ensure no one else is at risk from whatever is happening inside that reserve. So,” he said in a more chipper voice, “Can you help me figure this out? What exactly is going on in the private reserve near Lambert’s campsite? Who owns the land? What are they using it for? That kind of thing.”

“Sure, I’d be glad to help. I’m flattered that you’d ask, Alton.”

“Flattered—why?”

“Well, some of the other FBI agents refer to my white-collar crime unit as the “Bean-Counter Squad.”

“I don’t see what your criminal type has to do with your proficiency,” said Alton. “I know you have to be a good intelligence analyst, probably better than a lot of your peers.”

“Thanks, Alton. I think I can hold my own, and it’s reassuring to hear you assume that, too.”

“Absolutely.”

“Regarding your questions,” said Mallory, “I agree Lambert’s death seems a little suspicious. We ought to at least rule out the possibility that it was connected to the reserve’s activities. I’m surprised the local cops aren’t following up on it.”

“I was too. They said something about prioritizing their workload, and I think this investigation ended up at the bottom of their pile. To them, Lambert’s death appears to be just an unfortunate, natural death.”

Mallory couldn’t seem to resist the urge to tease him. “Now confess: this is really a ploy to see me again, isn’t it?”

“Once again, you’ve penetrated to the heart of my design,” replied Alton with a laugh. “How do you do it?”

“You men are all alike.”

CHAPTER 45

FBI Washington Field Office

Mallory started her investigation of Lambert’s death by pulling public information about the reserve near the Cohutta National Forest. She discovered the land was owned by Briggsfield Pharmaceuticals, a company specializing in medicine for animals and animal-transmitted diseases. She wasn’t able to learn, however, to what use Briggsfield put their northern-Georgia property.

Later that day, Mallory approached her supervisor, Mark Sutton, a man of medium height and build with sandy, slightly-balding hair. His subordinates considered him one of the most even-tempered people they had ever met.

“Hi, Chief,” said Mallory, “are you busy?”

Sutton looked up. “I’m just reviewing these quarterly reports from the pharmaceutical and fertilizer companies. It’s not exciting reading, but it must be done. For the moment, however, the reports can wait. How can I help you, Wilson?”

“Are you familiar with a company called Briggsfield Pharmaceuticals?” asked Mallory.

“Sure,” replied Sutton, “my cousin Emily works for them. She’s the administrative assistant for one of their top guys. They specialize in animal drugs, right?”

“Yes. It’s come to my attention that there have been some odd activities at one of their facilities in northern Georgia.”

“Odd activities?” asked Sutton.

“Yeah—warning sirens, guys in hazmat suits. Not the kind of thing you’d normally see on the Appalachian Trail. On top of that, a camper recently died just outside their property. The death can’t be conclusively connected to Briggsfield, of course, but the odd activity and the victim’s dying statement do seem to warrant a little investigation.” She described the information Alton had shared. “We can’t establish the cause of death without understanding the activity at the Briggsfield site,” said Mallory. “I’d like to take this as a formal assignment. I don’t think it will take too long to wrap up.”

“I see. I agree it makes sense to follow up, so add this investigation to your case log. You’re still involved with the Anderson case, right?”

“Yep,” acknowledged Mallory.

“Okay, while you’re working that case, let me do a little checking into Briggsfield on my own. I’ll get back with you this afternoon.”

Mallory began to leave, then turned back. “Say, Chief, you know what tonight is, right?”

He furrowed his brow for a moment before brightening. “Ah, the Army/Air Force game is tonight.”

“That’s right. Care to put a Jackson on it?”

“Sure—easy money,” said Sutton with a smirk.

“We’ll see,” laughed Mallory as she made her way back to her desk.

Later that day, Sutton approached Mallory’s desk. “I have an update on the Briggsfield case. Have you heard of Senator Braxton?”

“Sure,” she replied. “He’s chairman of the Senate Armed Forces Committee, right? What does he have to do with this?”

Sutton paused. “As I was in the middle of pulling up Briggsfield’s records, the senator called and informed me that government research ‘in the national interest’ was being conducted at Briggsfield. He said those security interests supersede our jurisdiction.”

“He’s telling us to back off,” inferred Mallory.

“Pretty much,” said Sutton, maintaining—as always—his calm disposition.

“There’s something about this that doesn’t feel right to me. Is he allowed to do that?”

“Wilson, no crime was committed, right? Therefore, this case doesn’t warrant an official FBI investigation.”

“What about an
unofficial
one?”

Sutton smiled. “Who’s to tell you how you should spend your free time?”

“Thanks, Chief.”

“First, a word of advice. For the sake of both our careers, keep a low profile on this case. We’ve already been warned once to discontinue the investigation.”

“Fair enough, Chief.”

“Is there anything you need now?” asked Sutton. “People? Equipment?”

Mallory considered. “No, nothing out of the ordinary. In fact, given how quickly Senator Braxton found out about your Briggsfield inquiries, any resource requests now might raise their suspicions. So it’s probably best if I work this case alone and with my normal toolkit. I’m good as long as I have my laptop and my car.”

Sutton nodded. “Another thing, Wilson. Since we’re keeping this investigation under the radar, keep me posted. If Senator Braxton notices something you’re doing and comes calling, I have to be able to give him plausible explanations for your activities. The only way I can do that is if I know what those activities are.”

“Will do, Chief.”

“Also, considering the senator’s committee appointment, I know we both suspect that the activity at Briggsfield—whatever it is—could be sponsored by the military. So, I know it’s tempting, but don’t get caught accessing the Pentagon’s TS-SI files. Even in the FBI, we have restrictions that prohibit us from accessing those restricted Pentagon domains. Not even my brother, the brilliant attorney, could bail you out if you’re caught with your hand in
that
cookie jar.”

“Are you ordering me not to access those files, Chief?”

“No, I’m saying if you do, you had damn well better cover your tracks.”

“I think I know just the man for that job,” she said with a thoughtful smile.