Brian O'Grady - Hybrid

“Greg Flynn,” he said.

“Him, I will see.” Patton had met Flynn on several occasions and found that he liked and respected the retired detective. He would have been eaten alive in a real city, but he seemed to have a solid understanding of Colorado Springs and had become somewhat of a local legend before retiring and handing his responsibilities over to Patton.

“Knock, knock,” Flynn said a moment later, walking in and looking around his old office. “Nothing’s changed.”

Patton smiled, rounded his desk, and pumped Greg’s hand. “How are you, Greg?” He wished that he had thought of talking to Flynn a month ago. His pride had taken such a beating of late that he would have gladly accepted advice from a police cadet.

Greg took a seat, and Patton leaned on the edge of the desk.

“I know what’s going on here,” Greg said without preamble.

“Thank God someone does,” said Patton. A wave of relief, or possibly exhaustion, passed over him.

“Seven years ago, my daughter-in-law, Amanda, was infected by a virus,” Greg began. He gave Patton the abbreviated and sanitized version of the story, but it still took several minutes. Throughout it, Greg watched Patton closely. He didn’t really know the large black man, and the reports from his old squad weren’t exactly flattering.

After Greg finished, Rodney walked slowly, thoughtfully, back to his chair.

“Is this an indication you don’t believe me?” Greg motioned to the distance Patton had just put between them.

Patton answered, “The Colorado Health Department is sure that there is no infectious cause for this. Two weeks ago, I asked them to look again. They checked the air, the water, even the food, and they still didn’t find anything. “

“They’re wrong,” Greg said definitively. “They’ve been looking in the wrong places. This virus is passed by human contact. Someone is deliberately infecting the population.”

Patton’s expression remained neutral.

“Phil Rucker,” Greg pressed on, “the coroner, told me that about a month ago an unknown virus was found in a previously healthy man’s brain. He thinks that this virus could be damaging people’s brains and altering their behavior.”

Patton winced at Phil’s name and slowly lowered himself into his chair. Ten minutes ago, he had been confessing that he didn’t have a clue as to what was happening here, and now all the answers had fallen into his lap.

“Does the name Klaus Reisch mean anything to you?” he asked.

After a moment Greg said: “No, I don’t think I’ve ever heard that name before.”

It was now Patton’s turn to tell his story, and Greg listened with an expression questioning the relevance. “Yaeger told me that Reisch had tried to kill him, but he couldn’t because someone named Amanda had hurt him. He said that Reisch reached into his head and squeezed his brain. Now, ordinarily, I’m not really a believer in this X-Files shit, but I got a witness who saw the whole thing, and this guy says Reisch never touched my officer, he just stared at Yaeger, and then he went down. Phillip Rucker said almost the exact same thing about Mr. Van Der.”

Greg was visibly shaken, despite his best efforts to hide it.

“Now, Greg, you’re a good guy, everyone knows that, but everyone also knows about your daughter-in-law. Is it possible she is involved with this Reisch character, and they’re out there spreading this virus? This guy used to live in Russia, and they were into some really weird shit in the seventies and eighties. She could have met this guy in Honduras—”

“No!” Greg didn’t mean to shout, but it did stop Patton. “I’m sorry,” he said after the echo died away. “You’ve got it all wrong. I’ve never heard about this Reisch before, and if Amanda ever had contact with him, she would have told me.”

“I’m sure you know how that sounds, Greg, and how this all appears. The government held her against her will, you said that yourself, and then a few months later she kills a couple of guys, one of whom happens to be an FBI agent. Now years later, in her hometown, some strange virus that she survived resurfaces.”

“She’s not a terrorist, and she would never knowingly infect anyone, and it’s not the same virus.”

“Do you know where she is, Greg?” Patton’s voice had taken on a hard, formal tone.

“I’m not going to lie to you. I have been in contact with her, and I know for a fact that she hasn’t been in Colorado Springs,” Greg said.

Greg’s gaze was steady, and Patton accepted his half-answer. “All right,” he said, and then added, “for now. My brother-in-law is a senior analyst for the CIA. I called him earlier today, and he says that this Reisch character is a freelance killer. He supposedly worked for the Soviets for a while, so I’m guessing they’re somehow involved.”

Scenarios started playing through each of their minds until there was another knock at Patton’s door.

“Somebody better be dead!” Patton screamed out of habit. Normally, it was a funny joke for a homicide detective, but at this particular instant, he realized to his horror that it was more than a little inappropriate. “God, that was stupid,” he whispered to himself. “I’m sorry, Greg, but Ken Small passed away this evening.”

Greg was stunned. He had known Ken for nearly thirty years. Ken had been there for Greg and Lisa when Michael and Jacob had died, and they had returned the act of kindness when Ken’s wife, Barbara, had died last September.

“Somebody has,” said a voice, and the door swung open. Patton never really appreciated federal agents all that much, and Don Heller reminded him why. Tall, well-dressed, and armed with a swagger that could only have been perfected through countless hours of practice in front of a mirror, Heller walked in and immediately made himself at home in Patton’s office. “The governor and your chief of police. Congratulations on the promotion, Rodney.”

“You’re a living, breathing stereotype, Heller, do you know that?” Patton growled, angry that Greg had now heard that he was taking over Ken Small’s job. “It’s only temporary,” he said to both of them. “What do you want, Special Agent?” Patton added a little extra emphasis on the man’s title.

“Two things, actually. The first is to inform you that by executive order the entire state of Colorado has now been quarantined. Nothing comes in and nothing goes out. The National Guard and U.S. Army will be working together, but overall control will be federal. All local and state law enforcement agencies have come under the command of Homeland Security. That means you.” Heller paused for a reaction, but was disappointed.

It was Greg who reacted first. “They know what’s going on,” he said to Patton. “There must be a different source of information.”

“It couldn’t have been my brother-in-law. He didn’t know anything about the virus,” Patton answered while Heller watched the exchange.

“There are people in the government, at least in the CDC, who know about the virus. I wonder if someone has put two and two together.”

They continued their private conversation while Heller listened, slack-jawed.

“No way they could act this fast,” said Patton. “I think you’re right, they’ve got another source. Michael said that people far above his pay grade had started asking about Reisch.” He stood, nervous energy coursing through him.

“Who the fuck is Reisch?” Heller practically screamed.

“Sorry, Don,” Greg said.

Patton started to pace, amazed that Greg had the patience to tolerate fools like Heller. Maybe that’s the reason for his success — people skills , he thought.

“Klaus Reich is a German,” said Flynn and turned towards Patton to confirm that he had pronounced the last name correctly. Rodney nodded. “We think that Reisch is purposely infecting people with a virus that damages the brain and causes people to become violent. It seems likely that this is a terrorist attack, and that someone in the government knows something about it. That’s why they ordered a quarantine.”