Russell Brooks - Pandora's Succession

When Fox saw the Jeep’s driver, he looked the other way. “Oh Christ, it’s Walsh.”

“So you know him, one of your pals I take it.”

“Not exactly. I think I’d rather be back in Darfur, than ride with him.”

“Hey there, Foxy!” yelled Tom Walsh.

“Damn, I feel sorry for you, buddy,” said Hiller as they reached the tarmac. “When we get back home, I’ll set you up with my sister-in-law. She’s as stubborn as they come, but I’m sure you’ll take anything at this point, right?”

“As long as she doesn’t wear your shoe size, I might take her.”

Hiller laughed. “I’ll remember that. My wife and I are having a barbeque next weekend. You plan on joining us?”

“You know I’m always there.”

“Cool, we’ll see each other then.” They shook hands.

Fox walked to Walsh’s Jeep as Hiller and the other SEALs got into theirs and drove away to a UH-60 Black Hawk Helicopter.

“What’s going on there, Foxy?”

Fox climbed inside as Walsh jetted off. “First of all, stop calling me Foxy.”

“Oh come on, what’s going on with you? You should be proud of yourself. You managed to stop a case of genocide and piss off our enemies again. This time, all at once.”

“All in a day’s work.”

“All in a day’s work? Are you kidding me? Wait a minute, let me guess. You dated and dumped another woman again, didn’t you? Come on, you can tell me.”

Fox rolled his eyes. “It’s over and that’s all I have to say about it.”

“Damn it. You know what your problem is? You let yourself get too close to women and when you have to let them go, it’s too painful for you. I mean, you change women more often than most men change their underwear.”

“Except for you, of course.”

Walsh shot a glance at him. “What’s that?”

“Just drop it. I don’t need this right now.”

“Jesus, I was just trying to make conversation.” Walsh parked the Jeep crookedly and took up two parking spaces. Fox stepped out of the Jeep, and he looked at the newly-built military intelligence facility, which was still undergoing construction in certain parts.

Walsh joined Fox and led him to the entrance. “Here we are, probably the most technically advanced and secure facility in the entire country.”

Fox didn’t comment. He got out and followed Walsh inside. They both came to the security checkpoint where Fox emptied his pockets and placed his wallet and an envelope in a basket that was put on the conveyer belt. He walked through the x-ray booth behind Walsh. When the two marines at the checkpoint were satisfied, Fox took back his wallet and walked off.

“Sir, you forgot this.” When Fox turned, one of the marines held onto the envelope. Fox thanked the marine and took it.

Walsh nodded as Fox pocketed the envelope. “What you got there, a love letter?”

“Yeah. That’s what it is,” lied Fox. It was a letter of resignation he planned to give Downing. He wrote it while he was in Chad. I delivered Pandora and Ares would lose billions from that loss. Let the CIA take care of the rest, I’m through.

Walsh buckled his belt as he led Fox down the hall. “Tell you what. I’ll make it up to you. It won’t be long before we head back home. Why don’t we check out a Redskins game?”

“Thanks, but no thanks.”

“Jesus, aren’t you hard to please. Don’t tell me you’re still upset that I brought up your last fling.”

“No, I’m just not into football,” Fox lied again. He was the team’s MVP the last two years in high school. He even dabbled with rugby while on a training mission in Scotland, back in the days while he was in the Canadian Army.

“Fine, then we’ll check out the opera. How about that?”

Fox rolled his eyes to the ceiling and sighed. He’s relentless.

Walsh pushed open one of the conference room’s double doors, and Fox followed him into the room. He saw his superior, General Paul Downing at the head of the conference table. To his right, he saw the more stoutly built, Post Commander Bell. To Downing’s left sat a blonde woman who looked up at Fox and Walsh as they entered. Fox didn’t know her personally, but could only guess her to be Dr. Tabitha Marx, from the CDC. Her name was mentioned a few times in his initial briefing before he left for Chechnya. Her violet pantsuit accentuated a certain sense of authority as it mixed with the dirty-blonde hair that hung past her shoulders. He guessed her to be in her mid-forties, at most.

Fox always pictured women with high levels of education to be a bit on the plump side when they hit their forties, due to the stresses of balancing both work and family. But not Dr. Marx, who was widowed a year after she married a wealthy industrialist. She still kept her shape and youthful appearance. Maybe it was camouflaged by her height-being over six feet tall-or maybe it was the grace in her movements when she swiveled around in her chair, exposing the length of her crossed legs. But when she looked back at him and smiled, Fox noticed her icy-blue eyes.

“You can both have a seat,” said General Downing. “You both know Colonel Fred Bell.” The Post Commander poured himself a glass of ice water from the pitcher on the table as he nodded. “Sitting in on this meeting is Dr. Tabitha Marx from the CDC.”

“Good evening, gentlemen,” Marx said. Fox and Walsh nodded.

Downing turned to Fox. “As you probably know, Dr. Marx is a specialist on the bio-weapon you’ve successfully retrieved. She has come here to see to its proper disposal.”

“I have a question, Doc. What Fox brought back was small enough to fit in a briefcase. How bad a weapon is it?” asked Walsh.

“It’s one of the deadliest weapons ever known to man,” she replied. “The small amount of the Pandora microbe Fox retrieved is enough to wipe out an entire city the size of New York. Imagine if you were attacked by a single microbe that’s virtually invisible to the naked eye. It finds its way inside you, either through your mouth, ears, or the nose, and eats its way inside, ingesting tissue and organs in order to self-replicate. All you feel is the inside of your body collapsing while the microbes increase exponentially in numbers. Huge boils appear all over your body, seconds before they erupt and spray the billions of offspring your body helped to produce. The casual observer would see fluorescent-green smoke blowing out of an infected victim. Then again, if you were close enough to see this, then you’re good as dead within minutes.”

Walsh recoiled in his chair. “Jesus, Doc. Is this your idea of a bedtime story?”

Marx looked at Walsh with a half smile. “Does the scenario frighten you?” She dropped the grin. “It should. Because this is exactly what Mr. Fox retrieved.”

Fox noticed her as she ended the sentence looking at him. What was it about those eyes of hers? It was as though she were trying to read my thoughts.

Bell took a gulp from his glass. “Jesus Christ! You mean to say, what fit into that briefcase is enough to start World War Three?”

Marx leaned forward and placed an elbow on the table. “It’s anyone’s guess as to how far terrorists would go to attack America. Imagine Al-Qaeda agents going on suicide missions not just in New York, but also in Los Angeles, Washington, and Chicago. Add to the fact that it would be followed by a massive panic across the country. Nine-eleven would be reduced to just another paragraph in a high school history book.”

General Downing cleared his throat loudly. “Uh, thank you for the explanation, Dr. Marx.”

Fox had a sense of relief. It wasn’t just him who felt uncomfortable around Marx after all. His own boss was even freaked out over her explicitness in detail. God forbid she became one of the President’s advisors. America would be on a year-long state of emergency.