Chapter 20
Pieter Teuling stood behind the podium and presented Global Conservancy Initiative’s clean water solution with colorful slides detailing how they’d brought clean drinking water to remote areas and how happy it made the indigenous people.
Crusher’s hands tightened into fists at the lies the billionaire was spreading, knowing his philanthropic efforts weren’t to help those populations but to thin them. As the man ended his presentation, there was a huge round of applause. The audience was buying into his deception.
Anger burned deep inside Crusher. The man was a murderer who thought he could get away with it. At the same time, Crusher’s heart swelled at how intent and concerned Marta was about those same people and at all she was willing to do, including risking her life to stop Teuling.
Teuling fielded questions from the audience and answered them smoothly, like the snake-oil salesman he was. When his time was up, he smiled and announced that the next presentation would be a discussion of the Pacific Corridor and the Central American Interdiction Framework.
As Teuling stepped back, Vasquez and the two men who’d accompanied him into the room rose from their seats, just as Marta had predicted.
“Krauss just arrived,” Ramsey said into his communications device. “He’s carrying a satchel. I’m moving in to intercept.”
“Vasquez is on the move.” Crusher leaned forward as Vasquez and his team turned for the exit. “They’re heading for the exit. Going to intercept.”
As soon as Crusher stepped into the aisle, Marta was out of her seat, coming to stand beside him. Between the two of them, they blocked Vasquez’s retreat.
Crusher would rather Marta had stayed seated until he cleared her path, but he wasn’t going to argue with her when he needed to focus on Vasquez and his two minions.
“Swede and Dmytro have been notified,” Hammer said in his ear. “The WHO data should go live momentarily. Dmytro’s friends from Interpol are here. Two are on their way to help Ramsey. Two will guard the door, and I’m coming in with the others. The doors will be blocked behind us.”
Good. They had backup.
As Vasquez drew closer to Crusher and Marta, his eyes widened. He cursed in Spanish and issued what sounded like an order to his men.
Crusher shoved Marta behind him and braced himself as the two men charged. He didn’t wait for either to swing first. Instead, he went after the closest one, punching him in the throat, immediately compromising his airway. The man’s eyes widened as he clutched his throat, struggling to breathe.
Crusher pivoted and side-kicked the other man, hitting him in the kidney and knocking him back several feet. He crashed into the people seated on the aisle.
Cries rose from the delegates as they scrambled out of the way.
The man Crusher had punched in the throat rushed toward him.
Before he reached Crusher, Marta swung the briefcase, slamming it into the man’s face. He went down, blood gushing from his broken nose. He stayed down.
The other bodyguard came at Crusher again.
Crusher ducked a punch, grabbed the man’s arm, and spun him into a chokehold, tightening his grip.
Vasquez rushed toward Marta. She reeled back and cocked her arm, ready to hit him with the briefcase. “What’s the hurry, Vasquez?” she asked, loud enough for her voice to carry across the room. “Why leave when the Summit’s just getting started?”
“Let me pass. There is nothing left for me to hear,” he said, glancing at his watch. “I have another appointment I cannot miss.”
Marta shook her head. “Are you afraid to stay?”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “I told you, I have another appointment.”
“You should stay to hear what the Pacific Corridor and the Central American Interdiction Framework people have to say. What they have in mind impacts you and your...operations. Don’t you want to hear what they have to say?”
“I told you I have another appointment. Let me pass.”
“Oh, come on,” Marta said. “Surely, you can spare a few more minutes.”
He shot a look at his watch. “I’m late.” He took a step forward.
Crusher shoved his captive in between Vasquez and Marta. “You can go when you tell the rest of the people in this room why you really want to leave.”
Vasquez glanced around at the stunned faces of the delegates gathered for the Summit. “I do not know what you are talking about. Step aside.”
“Not talking, huh? Fine.” Marta raised an eyebrow and stepped aside. To Crusher, she said, “Let him pass.”
Vasquez ran past her toward the door. When he pushed against it, it didn’t budge. He pounded on the door and yelled in Spanish.
Marta turned to Crusher. “You got him?”
Crusher held on to the bodyguard and nodded briefly, praying Marta’s plan would work.
“I’d like to have your attention, please.” Marta’s voice sounded over the whispers and sounds of alarm.
Marta’s gaze pinned Teuling’s as she walked past Crusher toward the front of the room.
Teuling stepped backward, waving his bodyguards forward to come up beside him.
“Please, keep your seats,” Marta said. “You need to understand what’s happening here. I’m not here to hurt anyone, nor is my partner.” She lifted her chin toward Crusher. “Unfortunately, others in this room want to harm you and the people you might represent.”
She turned to face the audience. “I’m Dr. Marta Hale, a virologist. The man trying to leave is Mario Vasquez, leader of the Colombian Cartel Supremo. He came here today specifically because the Pacific Corridor and the Central American Interdiction Framework are on the agenda.”
Vasquez continued to pound on the door, his expression wild and frantic.
“Vasquez is a desperate man, extremely anxious to leave the room. Do you wonder why?” Marta came to stand at the podium and leaned into the microphone. “Senor Vasquez, just tell them why you want out, and I’ll have my people open the door.”
“I must leave immediately,” Vasquez flung over his shoulder. “Let me out.” He banged his fist on the door over and over.
“Tell the delegates why you want out, or is it already too late?” Marta said into the microphone.
“Herr Krauss has already done what you told him to do, has he not? Everyone in this room, including you, will know soon enough.” She held up the briefcase.
“I have what you need to counteract your plan. All you have to do is tell the people in this room what that plan was.”
Vasquez stopped pounding the door and turned toward Marta. “Give it to me, and I will tell you what you want to know.”
She shook her head. “You first.”
Vasquez strode toward Marta. As he eased past Crusher, he picked up speed until he was running toward Marta.
Crusher shoved the man he was holding to the ground and raced after Vasquez.
Though she stood firm, appearing calm, Marta’s eyes widened slightly, and her jaw clenched as if she braced herself for Vasquez to launch himself at her and the podium.
Hammer appeared beside Marta as Crusher tackled Vasquez, three feet short of the podium.
Some of the delegates screamed and leaped from their seats.
Crusher pulled Vasquez to his feet. “Tell them,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Give me the antiviral,” Vasquez said. “Now! Before it’s too late.”
“Why would you need an antiviral?” Marta held the briefcase behind her.
“Because the virus is spreading through the ventilation system as we speak,” Vasquez said. “Everyone in this room will be infected and die!”
A collective gasp rose from the audience.
Vasquez lunged toward Marta.
Crusher held him in place.
“Give me the antiviral!” Vasquez cried, reaching for Marta.
“What have you done?” Pieter Teuling demanded, stepping forward. “What virus have you released into this room?”
Hammer stood close to Marta while Crusher held Vasquez back.
“He’s unleashed the same virus you wanted me to alter. The same one you wanted to insert into the clean water additives you presented just minutes ago. A virus similar to the one you inserted into the additives you gifted to remote locations in Uganda, Bangladesh and Paraguay.”
Teuling’s eyebrows formed a V over his nose. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Marta lifted a single eyebrow. “You can’t claim ignorance anymore.
” She turned toward the audience. “This fine, upstanding philanthropist, out of the goodness of his deep pockets, had me kidnapped and held me hostage at the Helvetic BioSolutions laboratory in Zurich to alter the DNA of the binding proteins to slow a virus’s spread, making deaths harder to trace to the source.
He’s not trying to help the people; he’s attacking overpopulation by thinning the herds. ”
“You’re insane. I’m helping people, not killing them.
” Teuling’s eyes narrowed, and he stared down.
“And what is this about a kidnapping? I’ve never seen you before in my life.
” He turned toward the delegates. “This woman is delusional. The purpose of the clean water initiative is to help people access safe drinking water in places that lack water treatment facilities, not to poison them. You’ve seen the data. ”
“They’ve seen your data. Not the data the World Health Organization has collected from those remote locations in Uganda, Bangladesh and Paraguay.” Marta waved a hand toward the large projection screens, where the information Teuling had presented had been replaced by WHO reports.
“What is this?” Teuling demanded. “This is not our information.”
“No,” Marta said. “This is the data WHO discovered when people in those three areas started dying from a virus specific to those areas. None of the people there had contact with any of the other locations. When they dug deeper, they found the common thread was the additives your process uses. The timeframe of the deaths coincided with the deployment of the additives. WHO agents in those areas collected samples of the additives, found the virus in them, and tested it. It’s a genetically altered virus. ”
“You have no proof the virus was placed intentionally,” Teuling said.