Jeff Buick - Lethal Dose

Keith Thompson reloaded the last series of tests and watched the results play across the screen. There was no doubt in his mind. He picked up the phone and dialed a number at the Department of Homeland Security. He fully expected J.D. Rothery’s voice mail and was surprised when the man answered the phone.

“You’re working late tonight, Keith,” Rothery said. “It’s after eight o’clock.”

“Oh, just a typical Tuesday,” the linguistics expert said. “Great news conference this morning, by the way. I think everyone is going to sleep a little better tonight.”

“Thanks, Keith,” Rothery said. “What can I do for you? I’m sure you have a reason for calling.”

“Yes, I do. The DVD that you received from the terrorist. I ran some additional tests on it and I’ve come up with something. A few years ago, I developed a program that samples idiosyncrasies in speech patterns. It looks for certain inflections common to specific dialogues and languages. In this case, our guy is Arabic, so I input every known dialect into the program and ran it through the supercomputers over at NSA. It took a while to come up with the final results, but they are conclusive.”

“What did you learn?” Rothery asked.

“The guy on the tape is not Arabic. Never has been, never will be. The accent is entirely fake. This guy is an Englishspeaking person, probably from the eastern United States. It’s difficult to establish exactly where he’s from because of the fake Arab accent, but if I had to guess, I’d say somewhere near Boston. And one other thing that is without question is that Ismail Zehaden is not the man on the tape.”

“You’re sure,” Rothery said quietly.

“I’m positive.”

“Who have you told?” Rothery asked.

“No one, Mr. Rothery. You’re the first one to know.”

“Keep it that way for now, Keith. We’ve got enough on our plate without this going public. I’ll deal with it.”

“Yes, sir.”

Keith Thompson hung up and looked back at the computer screen. The series of jagged lines cutting across the monitor were as definitive as a fingerprint. They just needed a voice sample from the same person and they could match the two. Then they would have their man.

He shut off his computer, locked the office and left for the night. He felt good about his work on the DVD, but something wasn’t quite right. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something was bothering him. And when he reached his car and turned the key in the ignition, the strangest thing happened. He saw a split-second image of his car exploding into a giant fireball.

He sat in the parking lot, his body shaking as his car idled, and one thought kept running through his mind: Do I know too much?

White Oak Technology Park was very different at night. In the muted moonlight, the silver buildings appeared dark gray, and aside from the streetlamps lighting the long winding road leading to the structure housing the Veritas labs, the grounds were dark. An occasional light glimmered out through the thick glass, but most of the labs were deserted, the staff at home for the evening. Gordon and Jennifer’s cabdriver pulled up to the front entrance of the Veritas building. He slipped the transmission into park and swiveled about to face them.

“Okay, let’s make sure I’ve got this straight. You want me to park near the south end of the building. There’s an exit about fifty or sixty feet from the corner. There are no markings over the door, just a small staircase with black railings. I’m supposed to shut off my car, stay in the shadows, and wait. When I see you come out, I’m to come racing up and get out of here as fast as I can.”

“Yeah, that’s about it,” Gordon said.

“And this is all legal?” the driver said. “Right.”

“Do you have today’s newspaper?” Jennifer asked. “The Times-Dispatch.”

“Of course. We cabbies would be bored without newspapers,” he said, dredging up the daily from under his seat. He handed it to her.

Jennifer pulled out the second section and then slipped off her wig. He stared at the paper, then at her. “Somebody in the company tried to kill me,” she said. “And we need to get in one of the Veritas labs. Tonight.”

“Oh, this just gets better all the time. Now you’re a missing research scientist on the run from an evil person intent on killing her.” He turned to Gordon. “And who are you?”

“Just a friend.”

He was silent for a minute, scratched his head, and said, “Ah, what the hell. It beats waiting on Cary Street for a couple of drunks looking for an after-hours club. Anyway, I think I believe you. It’s too crazy a story for someone to make up.”

“Thanks,” Jennifer said, slipping her Veritas ID from her pocket and holding it up. He gave it a quick look. “Holy shit, you’re not kidding. You are her.”

“Remember,” Gordon said as they exited the cab. “The south end of the building. And be ready. We shouldn’t be more than twenty minutes, tops.”

They walked up the wide sidewalk and opened the outer door. She looked at Gordon as she held her card above the reader. “This is it. Once I swipe this card, we’re going to be visible.”

“Let’s do it,” he said, giving her a grim smile and checking the time on his watch. “You figure twenty minutes?”

“I think that’s about what it will take for Andrews to get someone out here from the city. Could be a little more or less.” She ran the card through the reader and the light next to the inner door switched from red to green. They entered the building. The security guard stared at her as she approached the desk.

“Dr. Pearce,” he said. “I thought-”

She smiled and gave him a small wave. “Total misunderstanding,” she said. “My car slid off the road in the rain. I managed to jump out, but it took me quite a while to walk back to the nearest house.” It was a lame story, but he bought it.

“Could you sign in, please?”

“I’ll need a guest pass as well,” she said, scratching her signature on the night sheet.

The guard dug out a visitor’s badge and pushed another sheet of paper across the desk. “Name and address of your visitor, please.” She filled in the blanks, and he gave it a perfunctory check, then said, “Thanks, Dr. Pearce. Glad you’re okay.”

“I’m fine, thank you.”They walked to the doors that accessed Veritas’s half of the building and she swiped her card again. The light blinked green and they entered the short section of hallway before the steel security doors. “This is the big one,” she said as they approached the door. “All these doors are at different levels of security. If they’ve downgraded me at all, I won’t be able to open it.” She held her breath and pulled the card through the slot. The light went green and Gordon pulled the door open.

“So far, so good,” he said, checking his watch. “Just over four minutes.”

“Let’s move,” she said, walking quickly down the long hall. Blue doors flashed by on both sides as they hustled down the never-ending hall. They reached the first fork and turned right. Jennifer stopped at the second door on the left. “This is the lab where I saw Dr. Wai arguing with the moving man.” She held her card above the reader. “Keep your fingers crossed,” she said. She swiped the card down in a decisive motion and the light immediately went green.

“Wow,” Gordon said. “Being with you makes it easy to get into places.”

“I’m one of the team leaders,” she said. “There are only eleven of us in the company, and we all have top-level clearance. I’ve yet to find a door I can’t open.”

They moved into the lab and switched on the lights. “I’m surprised Andrews didn’t terminate your security clearance when you went missing.”