Jonathan Maberry - Patient Zero

Church said, “Let’s not make decisions in the absence of information. The security video logs are being fed to my laptop. Let’s meet in the conference room and take a look at them. Until then no one speaks to anyone.”

The others headed toward the door, but I lingered with Church. “The DMS finally gets a prisoner to interrogate and then this happens. Funny timing, don’t you think?”

“Yes, hilarious.”

He left and I followed.

Amirah / The Bunker / Tuesday, June 30

ABDUL, THE FIGHTER’S lieutenant, was a grim-faced man with humorless eyes and pocked skin that made him look like a smallpox survivor. He had first bonded with El Mujahid during a series of raids financed by one of the Iranian ayatollahs and together they’d blown up three police stations in Iraq, assassinated two members of the new government and planted bombs that killed or crippled over a dozen American and British troops—all of it in the days following the “liberation” of Baghdad. In the years since then they had cut a bloody path through five countries and the price on Abdul’s head was nearly as large as that offered for El Mujahid.

Now that El Mujahid was out of the country it was up to Abdul to ensure that no one knew about the Fighter’s absence. He made a series of small raids, including two more attacks on remote villages using the new and ferocious Generation Seven strain of the Seif al Din pathogen, and in each case he left behind a CD-ROM or videocassette on which were prerecorded messages from El Mujahid. As the Fighter mentioned specific incidents in the attacks it was that Abdul stage-manage those raids so that they precisely matched all references in the messages.

On the morning following El Mujahid’s “rescue” by British troops, Abdul returned briefly to the Bunker to consult with Amirah after first making sure that Sebastian Gault had left. Now they sat in her study, he in a deep leather chair, she perched on the edge of a love seat. The second half of the love seat was piled high with medical test results and autopsy reports.

Abdul sipped from a bottle of spring water and nodded at the reports. “Is that information on the new strain?”

“Test results, yes,” she said, nodding. She looked very tired and her eyes were red-rimmed.

“Has he said anything more about it?” Abdul never mentioned Gault’s name. He hated the man and thought that even saying his name aloud was an affront to God, not to mention to El Mujahid. Gault and that man-loving scorpion of an assistant of his, Toys. When he thought of what Amirah did and was willing to do with Gault it was very difficult for Abdul to keep a sneer off his face as he confronted this woman. This whore. How could she sleep with that man? Even if it furthered the cause and even if El Mujahid had ordered it, it was so… vile a thing to do. He wanted to spit on the rug between them.

If Amirah was aware of his contempt she hid it very well. She picked up one folder and weighed it in her hand. “This is a detailed schematic of the release device Sebastian has provided for my husband. It is waiting for El Mujahid in a hotel safe.” She smiled, stood, and walked them over to him; Abdul was careful not to touch her hand as he accepted them.

When he finished reading he looked up in alarm. “I’m not sure I understand this. This device is booby-trapped. It’s set to release the plague according to a preset clock instead of an active trigger.”

“Yes.”

“Where did you get this? How did you get this? It must belong to…” He waved a hand, still unwilling to say Gault’s name.

“I downloaded it from his laptop,” she said. “Or, rather, I arranged to have it downloaded while the laptop was out of his possession.”

“He’s never without it,” Abdul said.

Amirah smiled. “He was distracted.” She let it hang there in the air between them and Abdul turned his face away, not wanting this whore to see him blush. When he finally turned back to face her he saw that she was smiling a knowing smile. Witch!

“And you’re sure that he does not know that this material was taken?”

“He doesn’t know any more than he knows I disabled the program that would allow him to blow up this bunker. My computer experts are as good as any in the world. After all, Sebastian paid for the very best.”

Abdul almost smiled at the irony of that. He offered her a grunt of a half laugh, though he was truly very impressed. But he was also troubled. “Does the Fighter know about this?”

Amirah chuckled. “You of all people should have more faith in El Mujahid than that. I sent him the schematic which will allow him to rewire the trigger so that it actually works as it was supposed to work.” She paused, then with a sneer added, “As Gault promised it would work.” His sneer softened to a sly smile. “And I have my own contribution to make to our cause.”

When she told him what it was Abdul felt some of his dislike for this woman crumble away. He was almost smiling when she ushered him to the door.

The DMS Warehouse, Baltimore / Tuesday, June 30; 11:01 P.M.

AFTER THE CLEANUP we met in the conference room. Church, Grace, Hu, Dietrich, Rudy, and me. No one was going to be getting any sleep tonight, so we’re all drinking strong coffee, but despite everything there was a fresh plate of cookies on the table—vanilla wafers, Oreos, and what looked like, God help me, Barnum’s Animal Crackers.

Grace said, “Before we become totally paranoid, are we sure this is a security breach and not an error in protocol? If the door wasn’t forced then one of science team might have inadvertently opened it.”

“Perhaps one of the walkers got loose and the lab staff panicked,” Rudy suggested.

“I don’t think so.” He had his laptop open on the table and turned it around so we could all watch. He hit a button and an image appeared of the loading bay and the trailer designated as Room 12. “This is a continuous feed. Watch.” The image suddenly flickered and then disintegrated into static snow.

“Camera malfunction?” Dietrich asked.

“Unknown. If so then all of the cameras in that part of the building went down at the same time.” He held up a hand. “Before you ask… they’ve since come back online.”

Grace leaned forward, looking intense. “Sounds like electronic jamming.”

“I don’t understand,” said Rudy.

“All surveillance devices are electronic and are therefore subject to signal overload or signal blocking,” Grace told him. “The technology isn’t new and these days there are portable jammers small enough to fit in your pocket.”

“So this is sabotage?” Rudy rubbed his eyes. “This has been too long a day.”

Church ended the video feed. “Considering the timing and location of the signal failure and the subsequent breach of Room Twelve we’ll proceed on the assumption that we have been infiltrated by person or persons unknown. We have to find this person and neutralize him.”

“Or her,” Grace suggested.

“Or them ,” I said. “You’ve been doing some heavy-duty recruiting lately. We can’t assume you’ve only scooped up one bad apple.”

“Agreed. We have to evaluate the incident, learn what we can learn from it, both strategically and in terms of our security. We also have to consider the effect this incident will have on morale.”

“Seems pretty damn clear to me,” barked Gus Dietrich, “that these assholes wanted the plague released.”

“Maybe,” said Grace, “or they could have been on a scouting mission and opened the wrong door.”