Scott Nicholson - Chronic fear

“The rage drug,” Scagnelli said, to let Burchfield know he was already in the loop.

Burchfield nodded. “It doesn’t officially exist, either. Halcyon at least made it to clinical trials, but nobody knew about Seethe until last year.”

“Nobody except the seven subjects in the original trial,” Scagnelli said. “And only five are alive now.”

“I have a personal stake in this,” Burchfield said. “I feel responsible, and these drugs are a threat to national security.”

The senator really meant they were a threat to his presidential bid, but Scagnelli kept quiet, knowing silence might elicit more information than agreement could.

“Wendy Leng has been in contact with Dr. Morgan,” Scagnelli said. “They all could be getting back together, which means they’re planning something, like maybe going public.”

“That can’t happen.”

“I won’t let it happen, if you like.”

“And you tried Wallace’s BlackBerry?”

“No answer.”

“He wouldn’t go dark on his own, not at a critical time like this.”

“If I may be so bold, sir?”

Burchfield sat on the plush leather sofa. “Fire away. I can handle it. Hell, I’ve heard worse.”

“There are a few options. One, Mr. Forsyth voluntarily went with the Morgans, wherever they are going.”

“They could have kidnapped him and are going into hiding.”

“It’s a possibility, but Forsyth isn’t good for anything except insurance. If they wanted value, they would have kidnapped the drug maker, Darrell Silver. After all, Silver is the one who cracked Briggs’s Halcyon formula.”

“So Silver’s disappeared, too? Maybe the Morgans kidnapped them both.”

Scagnelli pulled the miniature digital recorder from his pocket and placed it on the coffee table. “Audio proves that they left Silver there. No telling where he headed, but he was around at least half an hour after they took your friend, apparently uncovering stashes of drugs the feds missed.”

“So Wallace expected Mark to kill his wife? I know Mark is a little…unhinged.”

Scagnelli nodded. “From my understanding, Mark was the only one of the group who received his first Seethe exposure last year in the Monkey House. Besides, of course, you and Wallace Forsyth.”

“Damn it. I can hold my liquor. I’m the Charlie Sheen of DC. I haven’t noticed any ill effects.”

No, I’m sure sociopathy is immune to the effects of personality-altering drugs, because there is no humanity left to destroy. “Oh, I’m sure of that, sir. You’ve behaved calmly and rationally through it all. The liberal bloggers can’t lay a glove on you.”

Burchfield gave a stately jerk of his shoulders, standing erect as if a camera and a flag were nearby. “I’ll admit, Seethe can be quite effective, which is why it’s so dangerous.”

“And so useful,” Scagnelli said. “I also discovered your plans to funnel Seethe to the Pakistan border. Enough crazy people killing themselves on both sides of the border, it will escalate pretty quickly, especially if some American troops go down as collateral damage. A hawk like you, already sitting pretty on the defense committee, would be very appealing to the voters.”

“That’s dangerous talk, Mr. Scagnelli.”

Scagnelli was amused. Burchfield was just another cog in the machine, and even if he achieved the presidency, he’d be no more than a house servant for wealthy corporations and the finance sector. Much like Scagnelli was a slave to Burchfield and Forsyth. At least for the moment.

Power had a way of flip-flopping when one side possessed something the other side needed.

“You hired me for danger, Senator. And I’m not suggesting your plan is seditious. Hell, just between you and me, I like it. But it’s not you I’m worried about.”

“Wallace?”

Scagnelli gave a casual shrug. If Burchfield could play the role of world leader, why couldn’t Scagnelli pull off the innocent bystander part as a supporting actor? “He’s been going a little afield, sir. At first, I thought he had orders from you that he wasn’t relaying to me. But he worried me a little with that Book of Revelations stuff.”

“Wallace has always been fundamentalist. That’s no secret. And I’ve found him to be a sincere man of faith.”

Scagnelli tapped the documents on the coffee table. “But doesn’t it make you wonder? It looks to me like the evidence puts him on the road to Halcyon and Seethe while pointing all the fingers at you.”

“Wallace is loyal to me.”

“A man of God will always choose the higher calling.”

“No.” Burchfield removed his glasses and tapped them against his thigh. “Wallace has always been a man of sound principle. And before you suggest it, he didn’t suffer any lingering effects from Seethe, either.”

“It might be cumulative. After all, Mark Morgan didn’t turn into a rampaging, well-armed lunatic overnight. From what I’ve discovered, the others may have built a tolerance to Seethe, probably because the Halcyon suppressed it.”

“Seethe is unpredictable. That’s what makes it valuable.”

And that’s what makes it fun. Before this little adventure was over, Scagnelli planned on getting his hands on some Seethe. A guy never knew when dosing somebody into a murderous rage might be necessary, or at least entertaining.

“All I’m saying is Mr. Forsyth might not be his usual self,” Scagnelli said. “If he’s getting messages from God or whatever, then he’s going to have a different set of motivations.”

“Excuse me.” Burchfield picked up his own BlackBerry and dialed, then ordered the person on the other end of the line to run a GPS search for Wallace’s BlackBerry. “Call me when you know.”

Turning back to Scagnelli, he said, “You mentioned other options?”

“Well, Mr. Forsyth had me kidnap Mark Morgan.”

“Kidnap? I didn’t order that!”

“I assumed it was to force Dr. Morgan to turn over the rest of her research records. But what if he wants to partner with them? Maybe even go public, too?”

Burchfield clenched his fist. “He’d never betray me like that. I am going to make him vice president.”

“Why settle for number two in the U.S. when you can be number one in heaven?”

“No way. No fucking way.” Burchfield stormed across the office. The windows were concealed by thick curtains, but Burchfield parted them to glance into the darkness. “Wallace, you son of a bitch.”

Rage. That’s an unhealthy emotion, Senator. Causes errors in judgment. Or maybe just allows us to give in to our true nature.

Scagnelli tossed some gasoline on the flames. “Of course, it’s equally possible that he partnered with Darrell Silver. Who cares about the monkeys when you can own the banana tree?”

Burchfield growled deep in his chest, and Scagnelli was grateful the man was currently his boss and not his enemy. That could change tomorrow, and probably would, when Scagnelli ended up with the formulas for both Seethe and Halcyon and decided Senator Daniel Burchfield was no longer a necessary evil.

“Nobody stabs me in the back,” Burchfield bellowed.

“Yes, sir.”

“Nobody fucks with me.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Nobody takes away what’s mine.”

“Yes, sir.”

Burchfield grabbed one of the figurines from the mantel, Thomas Jefferson if Scagnelli had to guess, and hurled it into the hearth. It cracked into a dozen pieces.

Let freedom ring.

Burchfield’s BlackBerry buzzed and he immediately relaxed, his face going placid. Scagnelli wondered if Seethe had maybe dug a deeper hole in the senator than he realized.

“Yes?” Burchfield said into the phone, listening for fifteen seconds before clicking off. He spoke to Scagnelli without turning. “They found Wallace’s phone in the weeds near Silver’s laboratory.”