Chapter 7
“What do we need to do to get in front of this?” Crusher asked.
“Besides discovering who owns the IP address I gave you,” Marta said, “we need more information about Felix Krauss’s background, current situation and if he’s been in contact with Vasquez.”
“We need to know what Vasquez intended to do with the virus,” Crusher said.
Marta’s brow creased. “When he installed me at the compound, he said I had seven weeks to weaponize and aerosolize the virus for delivery through a ventilation system.”
“Seven weeks is fairly specific. What does Vasquez hope to gain by releasing a virus?”
“I asked him that same question.” Marta snorted. “He responded with one word...leverage.”
“Vasquez is the head of a cartel. I assume they run drugs and other high-dollar items, potentially worldwide.” Crusher raised his cell phone again and brought up Swede’s number.
Swede answered on the first ring. “I haven’t gotten the data you want yet.”
“I didn’t expect you to. Swede, I’m with Dr. Hale. I’m putting you on speaker.” He hit the button and continued, “I assume you did some background research on Vasquez and his cartel.”
“We did. He’s got a sizable footprint in Colombia.
For the most part, he’s been running drugs and laundering money throughout Central and North America.
He’s been getting away with it for decades because he has people on his payroll in Colombian government positions.
When he moves product, the regulatory agencies responsible for preventing illegal shipments from leaving the country turn a blind eye. ”
“Has anything changed recently that would impact Vasquez’s operations?” Crusher asked.
“Not that I’ve found in our research,” Swede said. “The US spent time and money to help train Colombian security forces to help them regain control from illegal armed groups, but that only helped Vasquez by clearing the way for his people, improving his operations by eliminating his competitors.”
“When he brought me in to work on the pathogen, he said he wanted it for leverage,” Marta said.
“Leverage for what?” Swede asked.
“That’s what we hope you can help us with,” Crusher said. “He gave Marta—Dr. Hale—only seven weeks to weaponize the virus and aerosolize it so that it could be spread through a ventilation system.”
“Could he be planning to use it on his own government?” Swede asked.
“The timeframe makes me think he’s planning to use it for a specific event. Something that will be held indoors,” Crusher said.
“Possibly an event to be held in the next couple of weeks,” Marta added.
Crusher nodded. “Something that could have an impact on Vasquez’s cartel or its operations.”
“I’ll work it,” Swede said.
“Just to be clear,” Crusher said, “we have less than two weeks to figure this out.”
“That’s right,” Marta said. “Whoever took over my work with the virus could potentially shorten that timeframe more, making it highly contagious and more easily transmitted from person to person.”
“Worse than COVID transmission?” Swede asked.
“Much.” Marta’s jaw tightened. “And more deadly.”
“I’ll get back to you ASAP,” Swede said. “Anything else?”
“Yes,” Crusher said. “I need you to brief Royce on our discussion.”
“Right. He let me know you’re officially CTS until we know for certain who leaked your plans. We’re working on that as well.”
“Thanks,” Crusher said. “Out here.”
He ended the call, pocketed the cell phone and studied Marta’s face. The dark smudges beneath her eyes were even more pronounced. “You look tired.”
She grimaced, rolled her head back and closed her eyes. “I am.”
“Let’s call it a night.”
She pushed to her feet, her gaze going to the monitor that had timed out and gone dark. “We don’t have much time,” she said. “I need to do more to stop that virus from being released.”
“Our hands are pretty much tied until we learn more about who and what we’re up against.”
She pushed a hand through her hair. “I feel responsible.”
“You did what you had to.”
She shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. “If anyone dies because of my work, I won’t be able to forgive myself.” The first tear that slipped down her cheek wrecked him.
He pulled her into his arms. “You’re breaking the rules,” he whispered against her hair.
Her laugh choked on a sob. “How so?”
“I told you...I don’t do tears.”
Her fingers curled into his shirt as tears dampened the fabric. “I don’t usually cry,” she said. “My father always said that emotions shouldn’t interfere with science.”
“Emotions show that you care,” he said, stroking a hand over her curls. “Don’t be ashamed of caring.”
She leaned her cheek against his chest, her muscles relaxing in his arms. “I studied contagious viruses so that no one would have to feel the loss of someone they loved because of an unavoidable, highly contagious virus. I wanted to prevent deaths, not cause them. I was so close to an antiviral that would stop the virus from spreading when they gutted the CDC. So close. Now there’s no one working on it.
If Vasquez releases it, people will die before we can come up with a way to stop it. ”
“Then we have to stop Vasquez from releasing it,” Crusher said.
“Vasquez will have moved the virus from the compound by now. If Krauss is the scientist working on the virus, he could be anywhere in the world.”
“Swede will come through with the information we need.” He tipped her chin up and stared down into her eyes. “In the meantime, you need rest. We’re both running on fumes.”
She nodded. “Okay.” She slowly leaned back.
Reluctantly, Crusher lowered his arms to his sides. Now that she wasn’t pressed against him, his strongest urge was to pull her back into his arms. He’d like holding her—more than he cared to admit to himself. How had his asset become more of an asset to him in such a short amount of time?
“Uh, if we want to get some rest, we can’t do it in this room.” Marta’s cheeks were flushed a pretty pink, and she didn’t meet his gaze.
“Oh, yeah. Right.” Crusher stepped out into the hallway. “I’ll just see if our hostess is ready to show us the guest room.” He hurried down the hallway, feeling a little off balance. Marta had that effect on him.
He found Liza in the kitchen. All the dishes had been cleaned and put away. A stack of bedding was stacked on the table.
“Oh, good,” Liza smiled from where she stood in front of the coffeemaker. “I’m about to call it a night and wanted to make sure you two were set before I did.” She poured water into the back of the machine and set the empty pot on the burner. “I figured you might want coffee in the morning.”
Marta entered the kitchen behind him. “You don’t have to go to any trouble for us.”
“It’s no trouble at all,” Liza said and set the timer on the machine.
“It’ll be ready by five in the morning. If you follow me, I’ll show you to the guest room.
It’s part of the house but has its own entry.
” She gathered the bedding, then showed the way out onto the back wraparound porch to walk around to the side of the house.
A separate driveway led up to another set of stairs and the door to the guest room, with a light shining brightly overhead.
She pulled a key out of her pocket, unlocked the door and stepped inside. “It has its own bathroom, so you won’t have to come back into the house. If you want to be let into the house, just call me—the number is listed on the back of the door. Some guests like a late-night snack. I sleep lightly.”
“We won’t bother you,” Crusher said.
“It’ll just be nice to sleep on something besides dirt,” Marta added.
Lisa frowned. “Oh dear, it sounds like you two have had a rough time.” She turned to Crusher. “Seriously, the sofa in the living room is long and comfy. You’re welcome to sleep there.”
He shook his head. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll be fine on the floor.”
“If you change your mind,” she pointed to the back of the door, “my number’s there.”
“Thank you,” Crusher said.
Liza stepped back through the door. “If there’s anything else I can do, don’t hesitate to ask. Royce did so much for Stewart and me, I’ll be forever in his debt.” She turned and walked away.
Crusher stepped out onto the porch, waited until Liza was around the corner and then turned out the light over the door.
He waited for his eyes to adjust to less light and stared out into the night.
The city's glow made it easy to see most things, except for people who might be lurking in the shadows.
For a long moment, he searched the shadows.
When he was relatively convinced no one was there, he entered the room and closed and locked the door.
“Liza was kind enough to leave additional clothing for us,” Marta said.
Crusher turned to find her holding a nightgown to her chest. “You can be first in the shower. I’ll make up a pallet on the floor.”
“Okay, thanks.” Marta hurried into the small bathroom and closed the door between them.
Crusher doubled the blanket and spread it across the floor in front of the door. As he laid the pillow at one end, the door to the bathroom opened.
“Uh, Crusher?” Marta’s voice sounded softly.
He straightened and turned to find the scientist leaning through the crack of the doorway, wrapped in a towel and nothing else. His groin tightened automatically, and heat rushed through him.
Her cheeks were a bright pink, the flush extending down her neck. She gripped her towel with her injured hand, tugging it upward over her breasts. “I can’t get the shower to turn on.”
Crusher told himself his gaze was focusing on the injury, which reminded him that he needed medical supplies. “Let me see if I can help.”
As he approached the door, she moved backward into the tight space.
Crusher leaned into the bathtub, turned on the water and looked for the lever that would shift the water from the tub spout to the shower. When he didn’t find one, he reached beneath the spout and twisted a ring that cut off the water and sent it to the shower head.
When he straightened and turned, he was almost chest to...breast with Marta.