Michael Harvey - We All Fall Down

“Are we going to have issues, Mr. Kelly?”

Ellen Brazile eyed me like I was some sort of fungus she might find between her toes. I bet she didn’t like fungus between her toes. And I bet she knew how to kill it.

“I’m hoping not, Dr. Brazile. What with Armageddon running loose on the Blue Line, I’m pretty sure you’ll have your hands full.”

Brazile sniffed and watched the floors tick off as our elevator descended. Molly Carrolton stood beside her, spine stiff, ears open. A bell chimed, and the elevator doors peeled back. Brazile got off first.

“This way.” She walked down an empty corridor, around a corner, and stopped. Mayor Wilson, accompanied by his chief of staff, was already there, waiting.

“Dr. Brazile. I know you’re busy, so I won’t hold you up. I just need a minute with Kelly.”

Brazile moved past the mayor and opened a door to what I could only guess was her lab. Carrolton followed. And then it was just me, the mayor, and his ghostly gray apparition. Alone at last.

“Mark, give us five.”

Rissman nodded, and the mayor led me into an empty conference room.

“Sit down, Kelly.”

“No thanks, Mr. Mayor.”

Wilson shrugged and threw himself into a seat. “Pissed, huh?”

“Seems like there’s a few blanks that need filling in.”

“You mean from Danielson?”

“You tell me.”

“Sit down.”

I sat. Wilson hunched his shoulders together and pushed his hound’s face close. “He killed the FBI agent. Lawson. Did you know that?”

I didn’t respond.

“No wire.” Wilson stood and held his arms out. “Take a look if you want.”

“Your flunky outside was taping this morning’s meeting.”

“You noticed. Very good.” The mayor took his seat again. “Think Danielson figured that out?”

“Probably not.”

“Doesn’t matter. Danielson thought Lawson was about to go to the press with the story about the lightbulbs. He thought people would panic, be afraid to go into the subway, blame the federal government, et cetera, et cetera. So, he popped her.”

“That wasn’t the only reason.”

“No?” The mayor’s eyes flickered inside thick creases of flesh.

“The lightbulbs we’re talking about were stolen from the bioweapons lab at Fort Detrick. Danielson was worried that story might start to percolate. Maybe the press begins to dig, asks questions about what else walked out of there.”

Wilson rocked his head from side to side. “Maybe, maybe. Thing is, I had nothing to do with Lawson. You don’t have to believe me. I don’t give a fuck. But if you think about it, why would I have been involved? It was a federal mess from the beginning.”

“Is that what you dragged me in here for? So you could clear your conscience?”

“The thing today, the bulbs falling in the subway.”

“What about them?”

“You’re wondering why there’s no urgency, no panic. All that shit.”

“The thought crossed my mind.”

“Danielson told me about Fort Detrick. Told me he went down there himself a couple of weeks ago. Talked to the folks on-site. Accessed their inventory logs.”

“And?”

“All the bulbs used in their experiments contained anthrax that had been irradiated and rendered harmless. No exceptions.”

“You believe that?”

“I do.”

“If Danielson knew the stuff was harmless, why did he have the Canaries installed in the first place?”

Wilson snorted. “Who knows? Play around with a new toy. Do a favor to some lab that wants to show off a new product. It’s all ‘you suck me, I suck you’ kind of stuff. Thing is, Danielson wasn’t expecting a reading to pop up. Even a false positive. And he’s determined to keep it from the brass back in DC.”

“That’s why he’s using me, instead of his own men, for security?”

“Probably thinks you can do the job, and keep your mouth shut.”

“Why would I keep my mouth shut?”

“That’s between you and Danielson. Unless you want to clue me in?”

“I gotta run, Mr. Mayor.”

Wilson fingered the lapel of his coat. “One more thing.”

“What?”

“I need to come out of this looking a certain way.”

“Let me guess. If this somehow blows up in Danielson’s face, you want to be clean?”

“All I ask is you keep me apprised as things develop.”

“So you can stay ahead of the curve.”

“So we both can.” Wilson took out a business card and pushed it across the table. “These are some numbers where you can reach Rissman. He’ll be plugged in to me. Like I said, this thing should be over by this afternoon, and no one will be any wiser.”

“And if it isn’t… ”

“Keep us in the loop.”

I slipped the card into my pocket. The mayor got up and left.

They had three black vans waiting in the parking lot behind the university lab. I got into the backseat of the middle one. Molly Carrolton hoisted herself into the driver’s side and buckled in. Ellen Brazile came out of the building last, wearing dark sunglasses and talking on her cell phone. She finished her call outside the car, then folded her long frame into the seat beside Molly. I looked behind me at a solid wall of aluminum cases.

“Bringing a few toys, huh?”

“I’ll be honest, Mr. Kelly. The last thing I wanted was you tagging along.” Brazile stared a hole through the front windshield as she spoke.

“Maybe we’ll grow on each other.”

“I doubt it.” She took a sip from an aluminum bottle that had CLEAN printed in block letters on its side. I took a look at the plastic bottle of Evian they’d given me upstairs and wondered. Carrolton accelerated to the back bumper of the van, riding point.

“What do you know about anthrax?” This time Brazile favored me with a glance. She might have even blinked.

“I know what weaponized anthrax is. And I know if it’s already been dispersed into the subway there’s little you, or anyone else, can do to prevent a lot of people from dying.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. Molly and I are scientists. We don’t care about politics. We don’t care about whatever power struggles might be going on in Washington.”

“You work for the government. Your careers depend on making someone in DC happy.”

“Our work is funded by a private consortium called CDA Labs. CDA contracts with the Department of Defense to provide cutting-edge tools in the ongoing war against chemical and biological weapons. Yes, we have ties to the government. But we don’t work for them. As such, we’re not subject to a lot of the regulations and restrictions placed on their agencies.”

“And that allows you to do what?”

“That allows us to kick some ass.” That was our driver, flashing hard eyes in the mirror and shaking out a shock of red curl. “We spend a lot of money and take a lot of chances that taxpayers might not like. But we do it because we have to, and we get results.”

Brazile snapped open a case she had by her feet and took out a small black-and-yellow device about a foot long by six inches wide.

“Know what this is?”

“Looks like a controller for an Xbox.”

“It’s called a Ceeker. It’s highly classified. In fact, there are only a handful of them available in the world.”

“I’m listening.”

“Up until recently, identifying a pathogen required the collection of samples that were ferried back to the lab for analysis. The Ceeker uses wavelengths of light and a special algorithm to identify the presence of anthrax within minutes. It’s handheld, operates on batteries, and can be used by any first responder.”

“How come I’ve never heard of it?”