| |
THE NEXT TIME HE LOOKED up, he was still alone. But all the pages were filled—seven of them now, with a fifth page added to the decision tree. He knew what he needed to do next, and that was take a look—with the FBI and Rogers—at the refrigeration unit at the end of the process. He’d thought through the most likely places to do harm to the vaccine, and decided it was where he’d plant a bomb. Or, if he knew how to do it, he’d sabotage the thermostat. In fact, he wanted to take a look at the temperature controls there and see if someone like him, not an electronics whiz by any means, could figure out how to heat or freeze the vaccines without setting off an alarm. If so, Rogers could surely do something to prevent such sabotage. Hell, he’d just bolt a small steel cage around the controls, and that might do the trick.
He thought it was such a likely way to attack, if the FBI wasn’t willing to commit more personnel, he was going to ask Rogers to hire a private security agency to guard that one room, if nothing else.
Nydia must be doing something important, on the phone to Washington, or talking to the administrators. She’d been gone a while.
He checked his email, flipping through two dozen subject lines marked “URGENT” and another hundred without that label from work. His sister and his mother had written. He scanned both of those. His niece, nephew, and mother were all suffering from cabin fever and his sister sounded a bit hysterical, but no one was sick. He checked his texts and his heart lifted when he saw a text from Ellis.
I’m sorry it took so long to get back to you. My sister, Joan Ellis, passed away from the flu on May 22. She was thirty-six years old. We all miss her very much.
Goddamn it. Such a competent, decent woman. Gone. Despite all the worry, and all the death, and all the numbers of dead mounting every day, this one cut him. And God damn this terrorist, whoever he was. If it was one of these two guys here, right now, Glenn was willing to mete out justice with his own hands. He was not a violent man, but as he looked down at the table and saw the ink pen he’d been using to make his notes, a vivid image came to mind of him stabbing it into the guy’s eye and back into the brain.
Okay, push that aside for now. He needed Nydia when she was done with her tasks, the administrator, and a FBI bomb guy to talk with. With his papers and the pen shoved into his jacket pocket, he went hunting for her.
He looked in the break room first. There was someone just coming on for second shift, filling a coffee carafe from the water cooler. No Nydia. He went to Roger’s office. His assistant was gone for the day, but the man himself was still there. Glenn knocked on the door frame. “Do you know where FBI Agent Watt is?”
“She was looking at personnel files about an hour ago. She didn’t mention where she was headed next.”
Probably to make phone calls. But if she hadn’t come back in the conference room to do it, where had she gone? Outside?
Glenn stepped outside. There was a lineup of cars at the exit, and an FBI agent was talking to every person who was leaving. It was good to see the security was being taken seriously.
Back to the administrator’s office. “Did she talk to you about the two men she wanted to be relieved of duty?”
“No. Who?”
“Ravindu and Miller.”
“You think it’s one of them?”
“We think if it’s one of your people they’re the two most likely, but there’s no guarantee we’re right. We just thought it’d be prudent to keep them away, if you can spare them.”
“Possibly. Can I get back to you on that?”
“Of course. I need to find Agent Watt.”
“Your security card will still get you anywhere in the building. Have you called her?”
Glenn nodded and left the office. He thumbed his phone on and used the speed-dial to call Nydia. It went to voicemail. She had to be around here somewhere. He checked through the building methodically. The clean rooms had windows, so he only needed to glance into those. Both had three or four people working in them, evening shift probably, or day shift workers staying a little late. No Nydia.
He tried her phone again. Nothing. A snaking thread of worry began to work through his mind. There were two unisex toilets in the building and one for women only. He checked them all out—empty.
He phoned her again, walking down the hall, listening for a ringing phone. But no, she always kept it on vibrate. He’d never hear that soft buzz through a closed door. One last corridor to check, including the freezer for incoming cells and the final cold room where the finished vaccines were being stored. Neither had a window onto the corridor. The freezer opened to his card. It was empty of people.
If she wasn’t in the next room, he needed to check any closet and the outdoors around back. Damn, he should have checked to make sure their car was still in the lot. Maybe she was sitting in it, making calls. Or maybe she’d run out for dinner for them both.
The door of the cold room swung open. And there was Nydia. She wasn’t alone.
There was Griffin Miller, too, leaning against the wall. His hair was disheveled, his lab coat askew. His eyes were wild as he looked at Glenn.
And he held a syringe to Nydia’s neck.
