33. Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter thirty-three
Sam woke from a nightmare where she was sinking into the black depths of the Seine.
She’d had the same dream every night for weeks after waking up in a French hospital.
It had been a reoccurring nightmare for a long time after.
Now she only had the dream when she was under a lot of pressure.
She opened her eyes with a gasp to find Kearns hovering over her.
Sam had fallen asleep in one of the break rooms. The smell of sour milk emanated from a refrigerator that constantly hummed and clanked.
A fly had found its way into the building.
It buzzed around a collection of unwashed dishes in the sink.
The noisy refrigerator Sam could tolerate, but the fly had woken her every few minutes.
This time she’d been woken by Kearns’s hand on her shoulder. The department head was leaning over her, a pinched look on her chubby face.
Sam sat up with such speed that Kearns shuffled back a step.
Three years with Israeli intelligence had taught Sam to come awake all at once, alert and ready for action.
When you live in what is essentially a war zone, you have no other choice.
With everything going on over the last few days, Sam’s nerves were on high alert.
She ran a hand over her eyes. “What time is it?”
“Past nine,” Kearns said with lips that formed a narrow line. “You were supposed to meet me in Deputy Director Nguy?n’s office fifteen minutes ago. Have you been here all night?”
Sam raked long black hair out of her eyes. “Yeah, I…uh, I had some new intelligence come in last night. It’s something I think you should know.”
“Don’t bother, Gunn.” Kearns planted her hands on her wide hips.
She’d dressed in a pant suit today that was supposed to radiate authority, but all it did was emphasize her ample thighs.
A folder was clamped under one thick arm.
She said, “Nothing you managed to dig up is going to save your job. Follow me.”
Sam was about to explain to Kearns the latest results from the CDC, to explain that the virus was definitely man-made. The new information would have changed Kearns’s understanding of the situation in Serbia, but she was more interested in playing the petty dictator. That was fine by Sam.
She stood up. “You sure you want to do this?”
Kearns snorted. She was already halfway to the door. “You’ve got some nerve, Gunn. You think your brief sabbatical with Mossad is going to save you? I don’t suspect you’re nearly as indispensable as you think. But I guess we’re about to find out.”
Sam felt like her chest was on fire. Her hands curled into fists, her nostrils flared. She nodded curtly. “I guess we will.”
With that, she brushed past Kearns into the hall and stalked toward the elevator. She and Kearns rode up together in stoney silence. The car seemed to take entirely too long to reach the seventh floor. When it finally dinged, and the doors rolled open, Sam was the first out.
She’d been ready to offer the intel to Kearns as an olive branch, a way to bury the hatchet. Now she was intent on using the intel to bury Kearns. She strode through the cubicles to the Deputy Director of Intelligence’s outer office. “Is he in?”
The DDI’s secretary looked up as Sam stalked toward the door. “The Deputy Director has been expecting…”
She trailed off with one look at the storm clouds on Sam’s forehead. Her hand moved toward the phone on the desk. “Um, I’ll just let him know…”
Sam never slowed down. She pushed through the door and had to wait for Kearns, waddling quickly, to catch up.
Deputy Director Nguy?n had floor to ceiling windows with a large oak desk and several delicately painted Kanji on rice paper hangings decorating his walls. His office always smelled faintly of Vietnamese pancakes, or Bánh Xèo, a dish for which Sam had never developed a taste.
Nguy?n was a small man with shoulders carved out of granite and hands that had known physical labor.
Callouses covered his knuckles. He obviously spent time pounding on a heavy bag.
Word around Langley was he had a black belt in Taekwondo, or maybe it was Jeetkundo.
Sam could never remember. Nguy?n stood at the windows, looking out over the parking lot, with a phone pressed to his ear when Sam entered.
He had thick black hair, tipped with silver, and no eyebrows to speak of. He held up a finger for Sam to wait.
By the time Kearns came huffing into the office, Nguy?n finished his conversation and dropped the handset into the cradle. “Mrs. Kearns, I understand you wanted to see me.”
Kearns parked her bulk in front of Nguy?n’s desk, slapped the folder down on his blotter, and proceeded to make her case for firing Sam. She laid it on thick. While she spoke, Sam went and sat down in a chair, crossed her legs and waited.
When Kearns finally finished, Nguy?n turned to Sam. “Is this true, Ms. Gunn?”
“I took it on my own authority to send Trevor de Camp to Serbia when the local chief of station refused to investigate the outbreak,” Sam told him.
“And a good thing I did. De Camp was able to liaison with the CDC investigators on site. I heard back from him a few hours ago. CDC virologists have confirmed, the virus is a man-made bioweapon.”
Nguy?n’s eyebrows crept up his forehead. “You have evidence of this?”
Sam nodded. “I have the virology report in a secure email. I can send it over to you soon as I get back to my desk.”
Nguy?n nodded.
All the color had drained from Kearns’s cheeks. She chortled. “How come I didn’t… Why didn’t you tell me this?”
“You didn’t give me a chance,” Sam said in clipped tones.
She turned her attention to Nguy?n. “If Mrs. Kearns, and the Chief of Station over in Serbia weren’t so busy playing the political game, focused on promotions, we’d already be out ahead of this thing.
Now we’re playing catch up. There is a terror organization out there and they’ve developed a bioweapon with a one hundred percent mortality rate. ”
“You…” Kearns rounded on Sam with her fists clenched. Her eyes nearly popped from her skull. “You…”
“I what?” Sam asked in words edged with frost.
“Well this puts us in an awkward position,” Nguy?n said and laid a hand on the file folder.
“Given the circumstance, Mrs. Kearns, it would seem Ms. Gunn made exactly the right moves, even if she did so without proper authorization. I’m sure the Director will want to know about this.
The President will need to be notified as well.
Ms. Gunn, do we have any idea which terror organization is responsible for this biological nightmare? ”
“I’m still working on that part,” Sam admitted. “The sooner we can convince the Chief of Station in Belgrade to get out from behind his desk, the better off we’ll be.”
“I see.” Nguy?n picked up the file with proof of Sam’s unauthorized priority-one flight and handed it back to Kearns.
“As of right now, this bioweapon just became our top priority. I’ll brief the Director.
Ms. Gunn, you’ve already got a pretty good handle on the situation, so you’ll be our point person.
Mrs. Kearns, give her any support and resources necessary.
Let’s find out who made this virus and what they plan to do with it. ”