Life Goes On 2
Chapter 10
"Sir, we've got the lab results on the letter," Agent Faraday announced.
"Anything useful?" Fallon asked.
"I think so, sir. There were traces of latex and powder. Kremnitzer wore gloves. But the lab said that the latex protein had aged, so they were old gloves. They also found trace amounts of..." Faraday stopped to read the report. "Methylisobutylketone."
"What the hell is that?" Fallon demanded.
"According to the lab boys, it's a denaturing agent for two hundred proof alcohol. That's alcohol made for certain tests where there can't be any water. It keeps it from being drinkable, otherwise the government taxes it as booze. Anyway, they said those tests weren't used much anymore. Putting that together with the gloves, they think the letter and the envelope may have come from an old lab," Faraday explained. "It could be one of the ones abandoned in West Delmford."
"Then I want people checking out every one of those buildings. We are going to catch that motherfucker," Fallon declared.
Kristy Marcus had no idea where she was or what she was doing there, she just knew it wasn't good. No one puts a black hood over your head for a casual discussion, or even a trip to a classified lab. Somehow she'd fallen into a John LeCarre novel, and she had no idea how she was going to get out. She heard the click of the release of a lock and a man entered the sparse room where she'd been left with no explanation. He didn't look particularly imposing. His face was mild and moderately handsome. He wasn't scowling, but he wasn't smiling either. "Dr. Marcus," he began, "we have a problem." He produced a copy of Kremnitzer's letter as well as copies of her lab results. "It is possible that you and your people mishandled a virus, a very dangerous biological weapon. It is also possible that somehow that virus was stolen from your laboratory. A third alternative also exists, that the virus never existed in the first place, and you and your people have concocted an elaborate hoax. Dr. Marcus, we need to know and we need to know right now. Are we facing a possible doomsday or not?"
Kristy covered her face with her hands. "Not."
"Then I think you'd best explain why," Agent Danberg told her.
Kristy swallowed and began, her voice trembling. "The official story was that our our team was testing a number of variations of the Marburg virus that had been seized, rather than developed by the U.S.. But I would assume that in whatever spy agency this is, you know the official story isn't the real story. We were tasked with doing the development. The quick knockdown version that was used to murder those poor people at Nano-Life was meant to be employed to take out nests of terrorists. The idea was that seal teams could sneak in, release it, and sneak out again without firing a shot. There was another group working on a vaccine, so our people could be safe. All of us at the lab could live with that. But the other virus that was assumed to have been stolen, was meant to be as you characterized it, a doomsday weapon. It was intended to be used in a densely populated country like China and take countless innocent lives before anyone realized they'd been attacked. Even then, it would have been unstoppable. Aside from the total violation of treaties this country has signed against a weapon like that, some of us couldn't live with the sheer immorality of it. My group and I never developed it. We faked our results. We figured that in the best case, it would be like a hydrogen bomb, too fearsome to actually be used. We'd never be discovered. In the worst case if some madman did try to use it, we'd substitute something less harmful that would be judged a failure. But then that jerk stole the quick kill virus, and I believe you would know more of the rest than I do."
"Then there is no deadly virus out there?" Danberg questioned.
"Unless you count the cold that seems to have half the country down now, no," Kristy replied. "If someone engineered that one to cause havoc, they did a good job, but I suspect it's just mother nature having good laugh."
Kremnitzer looked out at the vehicles emerging from the woods. They'd found him. He had no idea how. He was sure he hadn't made any mistakes, but they had. There was no way they would get their prize. He could not be thrown in with a sea of inmates incapable of cogent thought. He couldn't imagine a worse hell. He would pick his own end, and it would be impressive and dramatic. There were gas outlets everywhere, dating back to the use of a multitude of Bunsen burners. He ran through the building, opening as many as he could. But he would not meet the sad death of asphyxiation. He could feel his consciousness fading as his oxygen starved brain cells rebelled. He held a sparker in his hands, and as a gray curtain descended over his eyes, he squeezed it.
The windows exploded outward and the building immediately burst into flames. The leading cars of the Homeland caravan were overturned by the shock wave. Other agents struggled to pull the occupants free, even as the heat of the blaze forced them back. Those furthest from the blast put out emergency calls. The building was beyond saving, but if the sparks set the nearby wood ablaze, the damage could be incalculable. Sirens screamed as crews arrived.
Fallon watched in horror. His skin was heat-reddened. His eyes burned. News of the explosion would sweep the internet, with scenes shared on Facebook and tweeted everywhere. He was determined that the name of Kremnitzer would not be. There was no way that the little bastard would achieve in death, any measure of the recognition he had sought in life. He'd make sure of it.
Fingering the packet of tissues he hoped he would no longer need, Castle took his place on the park bench, just before his father arrived. Jackson sank into his seat and promptly sneezed. "You've got it too?" Castle asked.
"Damn cold is more annoying than some of the bullet wounds I've had," Hunt declared in disgust. "Our people are studying it as a way to cut productivity and attack financial markets. They're saying it might do more damage than a cyber-attack."
Castle shook his head in disgust. "It never stops, does it. So what happened, Dad? There's been no mention of Kremnitzer on the web, not even on the conspiracy sites. No mention of a doomsday virus either - other than the usual chatter from the aluminum hat crowd."
"Kremnitzer's dead, son. Not even enough him left to put in fancy urn. That accidental gas explosion in South Jersey wasn't accidental. But that whole chapter is closed. You were right, there was no doomsday virus. Everyone involved in the affair has been taken care of."
"Yeah, I bet," Castle offered. "I probably don't want to know how. I'll just go home knowing that my family, if sniffling, will live to fight another day. By the way, if you want to sneak in, or just plant a bug, Lily has another concert scheduled."
"I'll keep it in mind," Hunt replied, before sneezing again. "Damn," he muttered as he walked away.
Kristy Marcus regarded her new lab, completely outfitted with the most high tech equipment she'd ever seen. There were also cameras taking in every move she made. "Giving our enemies a nasty cold," she thought, "that she could handle."
A/N Here's a short story about 200 proof alcohol. Long long ago, in a college lab galaxy far away, we used to do things called sodium fusions. They involved using sodium to completely destroy an organic compound, so that anything that was attached to it, like a nitrogen atom, could be tested for. They were very dramatic. Among other things, they involved adding 200 proof alcohol to use up excessive sodium, producing a nice whooshing display. Then we smashed the test tube into a beaker of water, and analyzed the solution. It was not the safest thing in the world, but probably more fun than most things I've done in a lab. Anyway, the alcohol we used was not denatured. It was quite drinkable. It had the government liquor sticker right over the cap. And you know what you got if you mixed it with water? Some pretty good vodka. Brothers and sisters of the lab, screwdrivers all around! Well, not really, but some of us made them in our rooms. You won't see Abby do that on NCIS.