Tess Gerritsen - Whistleblower

“It was,” said Victor. “For all practical purposes. Worldwide vaccination wiped it out. Smallpox hasn’t been reported in decades. I’m not even sure they still make the vaccine. Ollie?”

“Not available. No need for it since the virus has vanished.”

“So where did this virus come from?” asked Cathy.

Ollie shrugged. “Probably someone’s closet.”

“Come on.”

“I’m serious. After smallpox was eradicated, a few samples of virus were kept alive in government labs, just in case someone needed it for future research. It’s the scientific skeleton in the closet, so to speak. I’d assume those labs are top security. Because if any of the virus got out, there could be a major epidemic.” He looked at the stack of photos. “Looks like security’s already been breached. Someone obviously got hold of the virus.”

“Or had it handed to them,” said Victor. “Courtesy of the U.S. government.”

“I find that incredible, Gersh,” said Ollie. “This is a powderkeg experiment you’re talking about. No committee would approve this sort of project.”

“Right. That’s why I think this is a maverick operation. It’s easy to come up with a scenario. Bunch of hardliners cooking this up over at NSA. Or joint chiefs of staff. Or even the Oval Office. Someone says: ‘World politics have changed. We can’t get away with nuking the enemy. We need a new weapons option, one that’ll work well against a Third World army. Let’s find one.’ And some guy in that room, some red, white and blue robot, will take that as the go-ahead. International law be damned.”

“And since it’s unofficial,” said Cathy, “it’d be completely deniable.”

“Right. The administration could claim it knew nothing.”

“Sounds like Iran-Contra all over again.”

“With one big difference,” said Ollie. “When Iran-Contra fell apart, all you had were a few ruined political careers. If Project Cerberus goes awry, what you’ll have is a few million dead people.”

“But Ollie,” said Milo. “I got vaccinated for smallpox when I was a kid. Doesn’t that mean I’m safe?”

“Probably. Assuming the virus hasn’t been altered too much. In fact, everyone over 35 is probably okay. But remember, there’s a whole generation after us that never got the vaccine. Young adults and kids. By the time you could manufacture enough vaccine for them all, we’d have a raging epidemic.”

“I’m beginning to see the logic of this weapon,” said Victor. “In any war, who makes up the bulk of combat soldiers? Young adults.”

Ollie nodded. “They’d be hit bad. As would the kids.”

“A whole generation,” Cathy murmured. “And only the old would be spared.” She glanced at Victor and saw, mirrored in his eyes, the horror she felt.

“They chose an appropriate name,” said Milo.

Ollie frowned. “What?”

“Cerberus. The three-headed dog of Hades.” Milo looked up, visibly shaken. “Guardian of the dead.”

It wasn’t until Cathy was fast asleep and Milo had retired upstairs that Victor finally broached the subject to Ollie. It had troubled him all evening, had shadowed his every moment since they’d arrived at Milo’s house. He couldn’t look at Cathy, couldn’t listen to the sound of her voice or inhale the scent of her hair without thinking of the terrible possibilities. And in the deepest hours of night, when it seemed all the world was asleep except for him and Ollie, he made the decision.

“I need to ask you a favor,” he said.

Ollie gazed at him across the dining table, steam wafting up from his fourth cup of coffee. “What sort of favor?”

“It has to do with Cathy.”

Ollie’s gaze shifted to the woman lying asleep on the living room floor. She looked very small, very defenseless, curled up beneath the comforter. Ollie said, “She’s a nice woman, Gersh.”

“I know.”

“There hasn’t really been anyone since Lily. Has there?”

Victor shook his head. “I guess I haven’t felt ready for it. There were always other things to think about…”

Ollie smiled. “There are always excuses. I should know. People keep telling me there’s a glut of unattached female baby boomers. I haven’t noticed.”

“And I never bothered to notice.” Victor looked at Cathy. “Until now.”

“What’re you gonna do with her, Gersh?”

“That’s what I need you for. I’m not the safest guy to hang around with these days. A woman could get hurt.”

Ollie laughed. “Hell, a guy could get hurt.”

“I feel responsible for her. And if something happened to her, I’m not sure I could ever…” He let out a long sigh and rubbed his bloodshot eyes. “Anyway, I think it’s best if she leaves.”

“For where?”

“She has an ex-husband. He’ll be working down in Mexico for a few months. I think she’d be pretty safe.”

“You’re sending her to her ex-husband?”

“I’ve met him. He’s a jerk, but at least she won’t be alone down there.”

“Does Cathy agree to this?”

“I didn’t ask her.”

“Maybe you should.”

“I’m not giving her a choice.”

“What if she wants the choice?”

“I’m not in the mood to take any crap, Okay? I’m doing this for her own good.”

Ollie took off his glasses and cleaned them on the tablecloth. “Excuse me for saying this, Gersh, but if it was me, I’d want her nearby, where I could sort of keep an eye on her.”

“You mean where I can watch her get killed?” Victor shook his head. “Lily was enough. I won’t go through it with Cathy.”

Ollie thought it over for a moment, then he nodded. “What do you want me to do?”

“Tomorrow I want you to take her to the airport. Buy her a ticket to Mexico. Let her use your name. Mrs. Wozniak. Make sure she gets safely off the ground. I’ll pay you back when I can.”

“What if she won’t get on the plane? Do I just shove her aboard?”

“Do whatever it takes, Ollie. I’m counting on you.”

Ollie sighed. “I guess I can do it. I’ll call in sick tomorrow. That’ll free up my day.” He looked at Victor. “I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

So do I, thought Victor.

Ollie rose to his feet and tucked the envelope with the photos under his arm. “I’ll get back to you in the morning. After I show these last two photos to Bach. Maybe he can identify what those grids are.”

“If it’s anything electronic, Bach’ll figure it out.”

Together they walked to the door. There they paused and regarded each other, two old friends who’d grown a little grayer and, Victor hoped, a little wiser.

“Somehow it’ll all work out,” said Ollie. “Remember. The system’s there to be beaten.”

“Sounds like the old Stanford radical again.”

“It’s been a long time.” Grinning, Ollie gave Victor a clap on the back. “But we’re still not too old to raise a little hell, hey, Gersh? See you in the morning.”

Victor waved as Ollie walked away into the darkness. Then he closed the door and turned off all the lights.

In the living room he sat beside Cathy and watched her sleep. The glow of a streetlight spilled in through the window onto her tumbled hair. Ordinary, she had called herself. Perhaps, if she’d been a stranger he’d merely passed on the street, he might have thought so, too. A chance meeting on a rainy highway in Garberville had made it impossible for him to ever consider this woman ordinary. In her gentleness, her kindness, she was very much like Lily.

In other ways, she was very different.

Though he’d cared about his wife, though they’d never stopped being good friends, he’d found Lily strangely passionless, a pristine, spiritual being trapped by human flesh. Lily had never been comfortable with her own body. She’d undress in the dark, make love-the rare times they did-in the dark. And then, the illness had robbed her of what little desire she had left.