Robin Cook - Vector

Jack knocked against the door. “We’re in here,” he called.

No one answered, but there was a scraping sound as if a crowbar or some other implement was being forced behind the hasp. Again, there was the sound of wood splitting, only this time it was louder.

“I have no idea who this is,” Jack whispered to Laurie.

“You don’t think it’s...”

Laurie didn’t have time to complete her sentence. The harsh, creaking noise of the hasp being pried out of the door was followed by the door’s being pulled open. Surprised but grateful, Jack and Laurie found themselves looking into the face of a not-so-happy Warren. Behind him was Flash.

“Oh, thank God!” Laurie said. She lunged forward and threw her arms around Warren.

Warren peeled Laurie’s arms from around his neck while glaring at Jack. “Having to rescue you from weird situations, especially ones involving dead people, is starting to get to me.”

Laurie pulled herself away while wiping tears of joy from the corner of her eyes.

“What time is it?” Jack demanded.

Warren looked at Flash and shrugged. “And this is the kind of thanks we get! The man wants to know the time.”

“It’s important!” Jack said urgently. “What time is it?”

Warren consulted his watch and told Jack it was quarter after ten.

“Oh, God!” Laurie said. She pushed Warren aside and headed for the door out of the entry room. Jack was right behind her.

“Watch out, up there,” Warren shouted up the stairs. “It’s not a pretty sight.”

Laurie reached the top of the stairs and went directly to the kitchen phone. Jack came up behind her.

“Who should I call?” she demanded.

Jack thought for a moment. “Let me,” he said. Laurie gave him the receiver. He punched in 911 and immediately asked for Stan Thornton, the director of the Mayor’s office of Emergency Management. He said it was a matter of extreme emergency. Knowing Stan Thornton’s elaborate communication setup, Jack was confident he’d get him quickly.

Warren and Flash joined them in the kitchen. Yuri’s body was half in the kitchen, half in the living room. The splatter against the refrigerator had coagulated and had turned brown.

“Are you guys going to give us an explanation or what?” Warren asked. He was still exasperated.

Both Jack and Laurie held up their hands for him to be quiet.

“Look at this,” Warren said to Flash while throwing up his hands. “WE come all the way out here, save their asses, and they treat us like this.”

But Flash wasn’t listening; he was preoccupied by his brother-in-law’s body. Yuri’s face was frozen in an expression of perpetual surprise, with his eyes wide open, staring blankly at the ceiling. In the middle of his forehead was a perfectly round hole the size of a marble.

Meanwhile, Stan Thornton came on the line. Jack quickly identified himself and then cleared his throat before saying, “I think you might be facing your biggest challenge. Find out if there was a false alarm at the Jacob Javits Federal Building around nine-thirty!”

“Should I do it right now or you want me to call you back?” Stan questioned.

“Do it right this second!” Jack said. “I’ll hold on.” Jack held up crossed fingers. Laurie grasped them and closed her eyes in prayer.

Jack could hear Stan connecting himself with the Fire Commissioner. During the momentary delay, he told Jack that he believed there had been an alarm, and that he’d been told it was a false alarm caused by an apparent malfunctioning smoke detector. Seconds later, the Fire Commissioner confirmed it.

“Okay!” Jack said urgently, trying to organize his thoughts. “Call someone at the federal building! Anybody! Ask if the fire annunciator panel has been switched off and if there’s been a sudden appearance of powder in the building.”

“I don’t like the sound of this,” Stan admitted. He used another telephone line to connect himself with rapid dial to the building’s security department. Moments later he was back on the phone with Jack.

“The answer to both questions is positive,” Stan said. “Apparently there’s fine powder everywhere. What is it?”

“Anthrax!” Jack blurted. “Weaponized anthrax!”

“Good God!” Stan exclaimed. “Where are you? How do you know about this?”

“I’m in a cottage at Fifteen Oceanview Lane in Brighton Beach,” Jack said. “There’s a dead Russian émigré on the floor. He was killed by a New York City fireman who’s a member if not the leader of a militia called the People’s Aryan Army. The Russian had built a lab here. In the garage is a pest control truck charged with more anthrax. There’s a laboratory in the basement with, I believe, a fermenter filled with anthrax culture. We’ve been imprisoned in a basement storeroom until just a few moments ago.”

“Good Lord,” Stan said. “Are you contaminated?”

“Most likely no,” Jack said. “The Russian knew what he was doing, and he wanted us alive. Also the lab has a negative pressure ventilation system that must be properly filtered.”

“All right, stay there!” Stan ordered. “Do not leave the house. We will come to you. Understand?”

“I suppose,” Jack said. “I thought it best to get back to the morgue. I’m here with Dr. Laurie Montgomery. The morgue is going to need all the help it can get.”

“After you’ve been deconned,” Stan said. “For now stay put. We’ll be there in minutes to secure the area.” The line went dead.

Jack shrugged his shoulders, hung up the phone, and sighed. “We missed it,” he said with a voice that broke. Laurie put her arms around him and hugged him. He was choked up, and tears came to her eyes in sympathy.

“Hey, man,” Warren said. “I think you better tell us what’s happening here.”

Jack nodded and took a deep breath. He started to speak but had to fight off more tears. After another sigh, he got ahold of himself. “Warren, I told you the next time someone had to be saved, it was my turn to save you.”

“Yeah, well I’m not as stupid as you are, Doc.”

“If you’d only gotten here an hour earlier.”

“So now it’s my bad,” Warren commented.

“No, I don’t mean to imply that,” Jack said. “Believe me, I’m thankful you came at all.”

“I had to wait to see if you two were going to show up at work,” Warren said. “When you didn’t, I thought maybe something strange had happened. I saw early this morning that my wheels weren’t back, and I knew from Spit you hadn’t come back to the neighborhood, but hell, I thought maybe you two shacked up at a hotel or something, making up.”

“I wish that’s what this evening had been about,” Jack said. He looked at Laurie.

“Me, too,” she added.

Thursday, October 21

12:45 p.m.

Stan Thornton had not been exaggerating when he said they’d be there in minutes. Jack, Laurie, Warren, and Flash had barely had time to sit themselves down on Yuri’s couch and chairs when local firemen in class A hazmat suits showed up outside to cordon off the area and empty the neighboring houses of their occupants. It seemed surreal for those inside to watch all the activity because none of the firemen approached Yuri’s house.

Some time later, the percussive beat of helicopters hovering above filled the air before they slid off to land on the nearby boardwalk at the beach. A half hour after that, a group of men appeared in more serious-looking biological containment suits wielding HHAs, or hand-held assay instruments. This group split, with half going into the garage and the other half coming into the house. Several of those going into the garage were bomb experts checking to make sure there was no triggering device in the pest control truck.