6. Chapter Six
Chapter six
Sam had a small frown on her face and a pen in one hand.
She chewed the end of the pen, a habit she had when studying intel, and she was making small clicking noises with her tongue.
The newspaper was open on her lap and a web page was open on her computer.
Since the print article had been written, the death toll in the small village along the Sava River had risen from seventeen, to fifty-two, and counting.
Obtaining accurate numbers was difficult because the Serbian government wasn’t exactly being transparent.
In fact, at present, the whole thing was being blamed on a contaminated ground well.
The CDC had people on-site already, collecting samples, and treating the sick.
WHO had dispatched investigators as well.
The little village was far enough from Belgrade that nobody had hit the panic button yet. This might be the twenty-first century, but dead animals still ended up in wells sometimes. In a rural village far from modernized sewage and water treatment, that could easily kill a whole village.
Sam’s computer showed photos of people in blue hazmat suits with bulky suitcases and portable halogen lamps run by solar powered battery banks, in an antiquated village of half-timber houses and shingle roofs. To the locals, it must feel like space aliens had just landed.
Sam shook her head. “Hey Trevor?”
“Yes, ma’am?” His head popped over the dividing wall. His eyes instantly went to her hem line, riding up her thighs.
Sam put her feet down and arranged her skirt, thinking smooth move, Gunn.
She had to remind herself she wasn’t wearing denims and sneakers, going over intel reports in one of the Rabbi’s dingy safe houses anymore.
She was in an office, with other office workers.
A sense of decorum was expected. Keep pulling stunts like that, she’d get a reputation as an office tramp.
Another part of her wondered if she’d unconsciously done it on purpose. Field operations with Israeli intelligence had taught Sam to use sex as a weapon, and she’d found, despite herself, that it was nice to be desired. The feeling was… Sam had to admit, powerful.
Am I intentionally stringing poor Trevor along, Sam thought? Is that why I conveniently flashed a generous amount of thigh? But that was ridiculous. Sam decided she could never be that cold and calculating.
She asked, “Have you still got the reports on that Albanian terrorist group suspected of developing biological weapons? What was the name?”
“Got it right here.” Trevor disappeared behind the wall and reappeared a moment later with a thumb drive. “Call themselves the Kosovo Liberation Front.”
Sam reached for the thumb drive, plugged it into the computer, and pulled up the files.
Intelligence in Eastern Europe was a tangled mess under the best of circumstances.
Sam’s particular department oversaw the corridor of Slovenia, Hungary, Romania, Bulgaria, and Albania, with Serbia right smack in the middle.
It was an ever shifting landscape of political parties and various factions, riddled with corruption, black market money, and organized crime.
Sam was still wrapping her head around all the various players.
She had no business working intel in this particular part of the globe, but CIA was not about to attach her to any of the Asian desks, or any place in the Middle East. She was barred from any of the places where she could actually do the most good, until the Company decided they could fully trust the prodigal daughter who’d only recently returned.
Sam spent the next forty minutes reading through all the information on the Kosovo Liberation Front.
Details were sketchy at best. Interpol had collected scattered reports that an organization calling themselves the KLF had been buying up certain materials, all of which could be used in the creation of a bioweapon.
However, the reports were all second and thirdhand knowledge.
In fact, there was no real evidence that the KLF even existed.
Various organized crime syndicates in the area frequently spread rumors to throw off law enforcement, changing the names of their own organizations in order to sow confusion.
And the materials being bought and sold could be used in any number of other criminal enterprises, not to mention perfectly legal business purposes.
While she read, Sam clicked her tongue, started to put one leg up, put it back down again. She opened a drawer and brought out a slinky, which she rolled from one hand to the other while she let her mind sort through the facts. The weight of the toy, and the rhythmic sound helped Sam concentrate.
“What are you thinking?” Trevor asked. His head appeared over the partition. “Anytime I hear Mr. Slinky, I know you’ve got ideas brewing.”
“I think it might be time to take this up the chain,” Sam told him. She put the slinky aside. “Let’s put together a report on the KLF and this recent outbreak.”