Tess Gerritsen - Whistleblower

“I knew they weren’t biological data,” said Ollie. “I kept thinking they looked like some sort of electrical grid. So this morning, right after I left Milo’s, I took ’em over to Bach’s, down in San Jose. Caught him at breakfast.”

“Bach?” asked Cathy.

“Another member of the Out of Tuners. Great bassoon player. Started an electronics firm a few years back and now he’s working with the big boys. Anyway, the first thing he says as I walk in the door is, ‘Hey, did the FBI get to you yet?’ And I said, ‘What?’ and he says, ‘They just called. For some reason they’re looking for Gershwin. They’ll probably get around to you next.’ And that’s when I knew I had to get you two out of Milo’s house, stat.”

“So what did he say about those photos?”

“Oh, yeah.” Ollie reached into his briefcase and pulled out the photos. “Okay. This one here, it’s a circuit diagram. An electronic alarm system. Very sophisticated, very secure. Designed to be breached by use of a keypad code, punched in at this point here. Probably at an entryway. You seen anything like it at Viratek?”

Victor nodded. “Building C-2. Where Jerry worked. The keypad’s in the hall, right by the Special Projects door.”

“Ever been inside that door?”

“No. Only those with top clearance can get through. Like Jerry.”

“Then we’ll have to visualize what comes next. Going by the diagram, there’s another security point here, probably another keypad. Right inside the first door, they’ve stationed a camera system.”

“You mean like a bank camera?” asked Cathy.

“Similar. Only I’d guess this one’s being monitored twenty-four hours a day.”

“They went first class, didn’t they?” said Victor. “Two secured doors, plus inspection by a guard. Not to mention the guard at the outside gate.”

“Don’t forget the laser lattice.”

“What?”

“This inner room here.” Ollie pointed to the diagram’s core. “Laser beams, directed at various angles. They’ll detect movement of just about anything bigger than a rat.”

“How do the lasers get switched off?”

“Has to be done by the security guard. The controls are on his panel.”

“You can tell all this from the diagram?” asked Cathy. “I’m impressed.”

“No problem.” Ollie grinned. “Bach’s firm designs security systems.”

Victor shook his head. “This looks impossible. We can’t get through all that.”

Cathy frowned at him. “Wait a minute. What are you talking about? You aren’t considering going into that building, are you?”

“We discussed it last night,” said Victor. “It may be the only way-”

“Are you crazy? Viratek’s out to kill us and you want to break in? ”

“It’s the proof we need,” said Ollie. “You try going to the newspapers or the Justice Department and they’ll demand evidence. You can bet Viratek’s going to deny everything. Even if someone does launch an investiga tion, all Viratek has to do is toss the virus and, poof! your evidence is gone. No one can prove a thing.”

“You have photos-”

“Sure. A few pages of animal data. The virus is never identified. And all that evidence could’ve been fabricated by, say, some disgruntled ex-employee.”

“So what is proof? What do you need, another dead body? Victor’s, for instance?”

“What we need is the virus-a virus that’s supposed to be extinct. Just a single vial and the case against them is nailed shut.”

“Just a single vial. Right.” Cathy shook her head. “I don’t know what I’m worried about. No one can get through those doors. Not without the keypad codes.”

“Ah, but those we have!” Ollie flipped to the second photo. “The mysterious numbers. See, they finally make sense. Two sets of seven digits. Not phone numbers at all! Jerry was pointing the way through Viratek’s top security.”

“What about the lasers?” she pointed out, her agitation growing. They couldn’t be serious! Surely they could see the futility of this mission. She didn’t care if her fear showed; she had to be their voice of reason. “And then there’s the guards,” she said. “Two of them. Do you have a way past them? Or did Jerry also leave you the formula for invisibility?”

Ollie glanced uneasily at Victor. “Uh, maybe I should let you two discuss this first. Before we make any other plans.”

“I thought I was part of all this,” said Cathy. “Part of every decision. I guess I was wrong.”

Neither man said a thing. Their silence only fueled Cathy’s anger. She thought: So you left me out of this. You didn’t respect my opinion enough to ask me what I think, what I want.

Without a word she turned and walked away.

Moments later, Victor caught up with her. She was standing on the dirt path, hugging herself against the cold. She heard his approach, sensed his uncertainty, his struggle to find the right words. For a moment he simply stood beside her, not speaking.

“I think we should run,” she said. She gazed over the dry lake bed and shivered. The wind that swept across the reeds was raw and biting; it sliced right through her sweater. “I want to get away,” she said. “I want to go somewhere warm. Some place where the sun’s shining, where I can lie on a beach and not worry about who’s watching me from the bushes…” Suddenly reminded of the terrible possibilities, she turned and glanced at the oaks hulking behind them. She saw only the fluttering of dead leaves.

“I agree with you,” said Victor quietly.

“You do?” She turned to him, relieved. “Let’s go, Victor! Let’s leave now. Forget this crazy idea. We can catch the next bus south-”

“This very afternoon. You’ll be on your way.”

“ I will?” She stared at him, at first not willing to accept what she’d heard. Then the meaning of his words sank in. “You’re not coming.”

Slowly he shook his head. “I can’t.”

“You mean you won’t.”

“Don’t you see?” He took her by the shoulders, as though to shake some sense into her. “We’re backed into a corner. Unless we do something-I do something-we’ll always be running.”

“Then let’s run! ” She reached for him, her fingers clutching at his windbreaker. She wanted to scream at him, to tear away his cool mask of reason and get to the raw emotions beneath. They had to be there, buried deep in that logical brain of his. “We could go to Mexico,” she said. “I know a place on the coast-in Baja. A little hotel near the beach. We could stay there a few months, wait until things are safer-”

“It’ll never be safer.”

“Yes, it will! They’ll forget about us-”

“You’re not thinking straight.”

“I am. I’m thinking I want to stay alive.”

“And that’s exactly why I have to do this.” He took her face in his hands, trapping it so she could look nowhere but at him. No longer was he the lover, the friend-his voice now held the cold, steady note of authority and she hated the sound of it. “I’m trying to keep you alive,” he said. “With a future ahead of you. And the only way I can do that is to blow this thing wide open so the world knows about it. I owe it to you. And I owe it to Jerry.”

She wanted to argue with him, to plead with him to go with her, but she knew it was useless. What he said was true. Running would only be a temporary solution, one that would give them a few sweet months of safety, but a temporary one just the same.

“I’m sorry, Cathy,” he said softly. “I can’t think of any other way-”

“-But to get rid of me,” she finished for him.

He released her. She stepped back, and the sudden gulf between them left her aching. She couldn’t bear to look at him, knowing that the pain she felt wouldn’t be reflected in his eyes. “So how does it work?” she said dully. “Do I leave tonight? Will it be plane, train or automobile?”