The large warehouse door opened automatically and the SUV containing Peter and two of Corbett’s men entered, followed by the Rolls Royce, the second SUV, and finally Corbett driving a sporty sedan. The slab floor was amply large for all four vehicles to spread out. Diffuse daylight filtered in through dingy skylights in the sloped ceiling.
All four men plus Corbett were brandishing pistols. “Get out,” one of the men ordered Peter.
He slid off the seat and stood, slowly moving his head and taking in his new surroundings. “I would have been happy to pay for the water,” he said.
“You shouldn’t go sticking your nose into affairs which are of no concern to you,” Corbett said. He closed the distance, stopping three feet in front of Peter.
“Yeah. I’ve been told that before.”
Corbett raised his eyebrows. “You should have listened.”
“In hindsight, I’m inclined to agree with you.”
“Bring him.” Corbett turned and walked away. Peter, flanked by two guards, followed.
He opened a door that led into an area finished as office space, except that it was dirty, water-stained, and looked like it hadn’t been used for at least a decade. A utilitarian desk was to the right of the doorway. “Put his wallet, keys, and phone in the drawer,” Corbett ordered.
They passed a large room that, at one time, may have functioned as a breakroom, and two smaller rooms that had most likely been used as offices. They stopped in front of a closed door. It looked industrial, fabricated of metal with a standard latch and a heavy-duty deadbolt.
Corbett inserted a key and unlocked the deadbolt, then he opened the door. The fetid odor of stale urine assaulted his senses. He motioned to one of the guards. “Empty that bucket.”
The guard held a deep breath as he entered, grabbed the pail by the handle, and then disappeared, presumably to a washroom. Less than a minute later he returned with the empty bucket and slid it into the cell.
Looking in, Peter saw Darnell Price standing near the far wall. “Are you releasing me?” Darnell asked. But his voice was devoid of hope.
“All in due time,” Corbett said. “You have a new roommate. I understand you two know each other?”
“We’ve met,” Peter said. A guard shoved him in and then slammed the door. The deadbolt locked closed with a distinctive metallic click.
Darnell approached Peter. “Why did they lock you in here with me?”
“Can’t say for sure, but if I had to venture a guess, I suspect it has something to do with the bottles of water your shift manager gave me.”
Darnell hesitated as he considered how much he should share. “What are you talking about?” he said cautiously.
“I planned to have them analyzed. All of the production lots in your warehouse.”
“But you told me that the lab had already analyzed bottles of my water that the CDC people bought from stores in Warm Springs. You said nothing harmful was found.”
“That’s right.”
“So what’s the deal? Why can’t you just let this go?”
Peter shrugged. “Call it a personality flaw. You see, when innocent people are being hurt or taken advantage of, I want to do all I can to help them. I suppose I favor the underdog. So yesterday, after we met, I got to thinking about all that water you plan to donate to Nigeria.”
“And?”
“At first, I thought you were being a genuinely nice guy. After all, the average person in Africa has a pretty tough life by our standards. But then I thought about all those cases of bottled water you gave to the Warm Springs Tribal Council.”
“So what?”
Peter shrugged. “Maybe nothing, maybe a lot. I guess I just have a suspicious mind. And I began to wonder why you would ship water all the way to Nigeria when there are so many needy people right here.”
“There are needy people everywhere,” Darnell said. Even though the room was cool, perspiration dappled his forehead.
“True. But I believe that most of the time people act for a reason. And I just couldn’t get over the fact that you had previously found worthy groups nearby to support with your charitable donations. Certainly you’re aware of local groups here in Eugene to help the homeless and working poor. No doubt there are similar groups in Salem and Portland as well. So, it just kept nagging at me—why go to considerable expense to ship water to Nigeria? Surely there are many regional suppliers that would be logistically advantaged over Cascade Aqua, and perfectly capable of satisfying the need. I’d imagine you could negotiate a purchase contract with those regional suppliers to have their water delivered—at your expense, of course—and still come out ahead.”
“You’re being ridiculous. Making charitable contributions is not a crime.”
“No, and it’s something more people should do. But I’m still left with this quandary. And now—now you’ve provided the clue I so desperately needed.”
Darnell stared back in silence, his face lacking expression.
“Why are you here, Mr. Price?” Peter asked.
“I don’t know. Those men are crazy.”
“I think you do know. They have kidnapped me because I have samples of water from your recent production lots—samples that could not be acquired in Warm Springs. That, by itself, is hardly of any significance. So I’m betting that those samples are the missing piece of this puzzle, the proverbial smoking gun. And when they are analyzed, the pathogen that infected those young men in Warm Springs will be found.”
Darnell shook his head. “Those bottles of water will never be analyzed. They’ve probably already been destroyed.”
“Time to come clean, Mr. Price. What are you not telling me?”
He sighed and sat on the edge of the cot, then lowered his face to his hands.
“You’re going to need my help to get out of here,” Peter said.
“You know how to get us out of here?” For a moment, a measure of hope crept into his voice.
“There’s always a way out of any prison. How just depends on the circumstances, as well as the available tools. So, what’s it going to be Mr. Price? Are you going to stay here, and take your chances, or answer my questions and leave with me? The choice is yours.”
Darnell looked up. “Oh, alright. It’s over anyway.”
“What’s over? What did you do?”
“What had to be done. What weaker men could never do. Don’t you see? The global ecosystem cannot sustain unregulated population growth.” Darnell told Peter about his first meeting with Simon Ming a year earlier, and the plan they hatched. “Ming said he could develop the pathogen—a genetically engineered virus. My role was to ensure it got into the bottled water.”
“You were going to infect men with this virus so it would lead to sterility?”
“It’s the only humane way.”
“You think forced sterilization is humane? What is wrong with you?”
Darnell sprang to his feet, his voice rising in defiance. “I watched helplessly as my wife and then my twin daughters died of incurable diseases. Mankind is on the verge of global catastrophes unlike anything we’ve ever witnessed. All because people lack the will power to voluntarily regulate reproduction. Competition for resources, famine, disease, climate change—that’s just the beginning. It’s the natural course to thin the herd… only we’re the herd.”
“Is that supposed to be an excuse? Justification for forced sterilization on a massive scale?”
“There are more than seven billion people. And the population keeps growing. You know as well as I do—that’s unsustainable.”
“We’ve managed so far. Science and technology have made it possible to grow sufficient food, to make water safe to drink, and to cure major diseases.”
Darnell sagged back to the cot, the rusted springs squeaking as it accepted his mass. His expression also sagged into a frown. “So far. Those are the operative two words. We’ve cheated the natural order for too long, and our luck will soon run out.” He closed his eyes and lowered his voice, the anger spent. “When you turn on the evening news and hear that tens of millions have died from starvation in North Africa, or a hundred million have died from a global pandemic—that war between Pakistan, India, and China has claimed fifty million lives—how will you feel?”
“This is not the way. You have no right—”
“It is my right!” The fire returned to his spirit. “It is my duty!”
Peter shook his head, repulsed by what he was hearing. “You’re mad. You won’t get away with this. I won’t let you.”
“I don’t want millions of families to feel the grief—the pain—that I did when they lose their loved ones, as they surely will. Don’t you understand? Do you even know what it is like?”
Peter checked his surging anger. “Yes, I do know. My wife died from an automobile accident several years ago, and I’ll always feel the pain. But you aren’t God, no one is. As laudable as your goal may be, your method is monstrous.”
Darnell cast his eyes downward. “What are we to do?” his voice barely more than a whisper.
“To begin with, we’re going to get out. And then we’re going to quarantine all the product your company has in the warehouse and halt production while the CDC and Oregon Health Authority investigate. I’m quite certain they’ll issue an immediate and urgent recall of all product your company has shipped.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“Why not?”
“Because, I only added the virus to select production lots. Those cases were shipped to Warm Springs, and then there is the product scheduled to be shipped to Nigeria.”
“Why?”
Darnell didn’t respond.
“Why only those populations?” Peter said, his voice louder. “Why not also distribute your poison here in your own home town? Share it with your friends and neighbors?”
“It only makes sense to target areas where overpopulation is severe. Those regions tend to correlate with poverty.”
“You mean people of color, you son of a bitch. That’s always the answer for men like you, isn’t it?” It took all of Peter’s will to refrain from smashing his fist into the man’s face. Instead, he shook his head in disgust. “Move,” he said brusquely.
With Darnell out of the way, Peter raised a leg of the cot and unscrewed a leveling foot. It came out easily—a threaded stud about two inches long with a one-inch circular foot that normally made contact with the floor.
“What are you going to do with that?” Darnell asked from the farthest corner of the room.
“I’m going to use it to open the door.”
Since the door swung inward, the hinges were located inside their makeshift cell. There were three standard hinges. Peter placed the stud against the bottom of one of the pins and rammed his hand against the circular foot driving the stud upwards against the hinge pin. At first, there was no movement, and he hit the circular foot a second time. The pin edged upward. Again and again he struck the foot until the pin was pushed up sufficiently that he could grasp it and pull it out.
He repeated the process for the remaining two pins while Darnell watched. When he was done, the heal of his hand ached from the repeated blows.
“Now what?” Darnell asked.
Peter struggled to grip the hinge and pull inward. It would have been easy to accomplish if he had even rudimentary tools. He conducted a quick search of the room—nothing. No screwdriver, no pliers, nothing. The bottom of the door had a heavy-duty weather strip that contributed to the sound-proof qualities of the room. It also made it impossible to get a grip on the bottom of the door and lift upwards in order to take the weight off the hinges so the door would fall inward.
“We’re one yard from the goal line,” Peter said in frustration. “Now we wait.”
“Wait for what?”
“For one of the guards to open the door.”