Chapter 9
Maggie swung by the next morning and drove us to Ramirez's laboratory in the outskirts of town, at an old fertilizer factory. I had asked an old friend of mine currently working at the NIH to email the genetic sequence of Bacillus anthracis, and Holmes and I spend the morning categorizing the different cultures that Ramirez was working on by comparing genetic sequences, while Maggie sat near the door of the lab, casually flipping through various fashion magazines. Bacillus anthracis is a common bacterium found in soil, but only certain strains are pathogenic, and out of the six cultures Ramirez had, only two of them were virulent, dangerous strains. Halfway through the categorization, Maggie got up from her seat, and handed two small empty vials to Holmes before returning to her seat near the door. "Here. These are for you."
Holmes nodded his thanks. One of the vials had a red lid, and another a blue lid. He proceeded to fill the vial with the blue lid with the virulent spores, and the red lid with the innocuous spores. I said nothing at the time, but made a mental note to bring this up with him later.
"Sebastian will be joining us tonight at Carlos' office after dinner," Holmes announced, placing the receiver of the payphone back in its cradle, before stepping out of the phone booth. Maggie had dropped us off at our hotel after we had finished up at the lab, and after ensuring her car was out of sight, Holmes had dragged me down to a payphone down the street, motioning me to wait as he proceeded to make a flurry of phone calls. I didn't catch most of the conversations, but Holmes increasingly grew more animated and excited as he talked on.
"And the next part of your plan is what?" I asked tentatively, not sure I wanted to hear the answer.
He grinned like a Cheshire cat, and rubbed his hands together in sheer excitement. "How about lunch, and a nice tour of the Garden District sound?"
I stared at him incredulously, before realizing that he wouldn't be deterred no matter what I answered. Defeated, I tried my best to put all thoughts of tonight out the window, before taking his offered arm, resolving to enjoy the last carefree moments of this trip.
"Rich Irish servants, Laura, not slaves," Holmes corrected me as we passed by the Briggs-Staub mansion, the Garden District's only example of Gothic Revival architecture.
We just finished lunch (at Commander's Palace, yet another scrumptious New Orleans restaurant), and were starting our stroll through the various streets of the Garden District, the very symbol of Southern aristocracy of history and legend. Holmes was giving me the tour himself, pointing out various aspects of the first home we encountered, one of many different mansions that dotted the area (such as pointing out that the guest house was not "slave quarters" like I had presumed, but rather paid servants' living quarters). He was surprisingly well-versed in the different architectural details of the place, as well as the accompanying sordid history of many of its more unsavory characters.
We walked around the house a little while longer, side by side, enjoying the bright afternoon sun and slight breeze that rustled the nearby trees.
"You know, sometimes, you miss the idea of someone more than the person himself," Holmes suddenly remarked.
I winced a little, even though I was used to Holmes' random outbursts that were surprisingly insightful (sometimes too much so). "How did you know?"
"You're fiddling with your left ring finger again, and I know you don't do that unless you're thinking about Moriarty," Holmes smiled, probably savoring his previous victory over his adversary.
"But how did you know that it was the idea of James and not James himself?"
Holmes' raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.
I sighed. "You're right, as always. I don't miss him as much as I just miss having someone there. Someone to come home to, someone to look out for me."
"Someone to take care of you, as opposed to someone to just love you," Holmes stated matter-of-factly.
I stopped in my tracks, taken aback by Holmes' statement. I never expected Holmes, rational as he was, to ever mention love, much less understand what I was saying about it. "I'm a romantic, but I'm not that optimistic anymore," I laughed nervously. "At this point, someone to share my life with would be just fine."
Holmes offered his hand to me. "How about someone to share this walk with?"
My heart skipped a beat as I took his hand slowly, feeling like I was going to melt on the spot when I felt his long tapered fingers close around mine. "I suppose you'll have to do," I teased, trying to shake off the butterflies in my stomach.
We continued on our walk, hand-in-hand, with Holmes pointing out the rest of the highlights of the Garden District, demonstrating the incredible endless depths of his knowledge.
"You have a plan, right?" I asked Holmes nervously as we got out of the taxi in front of Ramirez's office. We had just finished dinner and were now embarking on what seemed like an ultimate showdown, the culmination of what we had come to New Orleans to do. Had it only been a week?
Holmes cast a wary eye at me. "You sure pick the worst times to play doubting Thomas."
"All right, all right. I'll just follow your lead. I trust you." I raised my hands in defeat. Never had I felt so helpless in my life, but yet, there was a sense of calmness and peace about giving up any sort of control over the entire situation.
We headed into the building, a dark place with no windows that housed on the first floor, a shady nightclub. Ramirez's office was on the second floor, and this was where Holmes said Ramirez conducted most of his business (the official and the unofficial). Holmes navigated his way carefully through the club, up the stairs, and knocked on the first door to the left of the long gloomy hallway.
"Enter," came a voice behind the door.
The small office inside the dingy building was surprisingly well furnished. A plasma TV adorned one of the walls, and a plump leather loveseat lined the other wall. Ramirez, the refined drug dealer turned bioweapons producer was sitting in an executive chair behind a deep cherry oak desk. Behind him stood the tall redhead, Maggie, her arms crossed, her face rather stern. She was all business tonight, and any trace of the perky cheerleader ditzy attitude had disappeared.
"Hello, Jake. Laura."
Holmes nodded back, "Carlos." I managed a slight smile back, refusing to trust my voice.
"So where is your friend, Jake? My time is precious."
"He'll be here."
Ramirez turned to me, like a tiger waiting to pounce. "So, Laura, Maggie here tells me you are very good at microbiology."
I shrugged. "To a certain level, I suppose."
He grinned. "How would you like to come work for me? The rewards would be tremendous."
I swallowed, hoping to kill the incredulous laugh that was just itching to come out, but before I could answer, Holmes jumped in, his voice fierce. "She's not interested."
Ramirez's eyes flashed with a brief intense anger, before cooling into a very icy stare. "I believe I was asking the lady, Jake. Especially in this day and age, we should allow the lady to speak her mind herself, don't you think?"
I watched as Holmes' fists began to clench, and I jumped in, trying to diffuse the situation, placing a hand on Jake's arm. "Mr. Ramirez, thank you for your offer, but really, I already have a day job."
Ramirez smiled. "Of course."
There was a knock at the door (a welcome interruption) before I could say anything else, and Maggie crossed the room to open it. It was Carl Sebastian, aka, Jack Johnson. Sebastian was a short and stocky man, with broad shoulders and a swaggering gait. A toothpick hung from the corner of his mouth, and when he smiled, his teeth were yellow and extremely crooked.
He walked toward Ramirez, completely ignoring Maggie, Jake, and me. Ramirez had gotten up out of his seat, and the two of them shook hands firmly. "I'm Jack Johnson. Heard you were looking for a buyer."
"Carlos Ramirez. What are you offering?" The exchange was quick.
"Depends on your stock. What kind of quality assurance guarantee do I have?"
Ramirez grinned. "I'm the best. The stock's all been verified."
Sebastian (aka Johnson) scoffed. "Excuse me if I don't just take this at your word, old man. How do you know?"
Ramirez suddenly turned to me. "Meet Laura Young, my microbiologist. She checked them all this morning."
My head snapped up, as Sebastian turned to me. I felt his eyes on me, trailing over my body, chilling me to the very core. I was beginning to wish that I had never gotten involved in this mess. While Ramirez seemed a bit more refined, a grandfather type who happened to be in the drug business, reflecting what some might characterize as an "old school" gangster, Sebastian was a completely different matter. He seemed very volatile and ruthless, and this made for a much more dangerous combination, as it didn't seem as though rules that governed rational human behavior applied.
"So you the microbiologist."
I nodded, trying to find my voice. "Yes."
"Where'd you go to school?"
"USC."
Sebastian laughed again. "Then how would you know anything about this? Only the NIH has the government's permission to work on anthrax."
"If you knew what you were talking about, sir, you would also know that USC is home to the only university center in the US on bioterrorism and bioweapons," I shot back testily.
Everyone in the room seemed taken aback by the vehemence in my voice; even I was surprised at how much I disliked Sebastian.
"Mr. Ramirez, if I may, I' d be hesistant about selling something so valuable to someone who obviously doesn't understand anything about it," I remarked, pressing ahead.
I heard Jake stifle a laugh next to me, and even Ramirez chuckled. Sebastian, on the other hand, didn't take my comment well, and in the next instance, pulled out a sleek black gun, pointing it straight at my head.
"Keep talking, bitch, and you won't live another moment."
Maggie responded by quickly drawing her own gun from a thigh holster barely noticeable under her short skirt. "Drop it, Johnson. There's no need to do this over a business transaction."
I was absolutely frozen, numb, vaguely aware of what I had gotten myself into. After what seemed like the longest moment in my life, Sebastian finally relented, putting the gun back into his own side holster.
Ramirez continued on, as if nothing had happened. "Now, I have 6 cultures available. What are you willing to pay for them?"
"Where are they?" Sebastian asked, still refusing to sit down.
"At my warehouse. I can call and have someone bring them here when you hand over the money."
Sebastian grinned. "Which I can tell you is never going to happen."
Ramirez's brow furrowed. "Why is that?"
"Because you're all under arrest," a familiar voice rang out from the open doorway.
It was Brian. The attractive FBI agent walked into the room, his gun raised, pointed at Ramirez.
What surprised me more was what Brian said next. "Maggie, would you cuff Mr. Ramirez and read him his rights please? Gary will meet you downstairs."
Maggie smiled. "No problem boss." She pulled a stunned Ramirez's arms behind his back and slapped a pair of handcuffs on his wrists, before leading him out of the room, as her recitation of the Miranda rights echoed down the hallway.
Holmes spoke up for the first time since Sebastian entered the room. "You are going to arrest him, right, Brian?"
Brian shook his head slowly. "You know he's done nothing legally wrong, Jake."
Holmes's entire body began to shake. "He was trying to buy anthrax, Brian. That's got to mean something."
Meanwhile, Sebastian was watching this exchange with an amused twinkle in his eye. I was absolutely bewildered. What was going on here?
Brian sighed. "We're using Sebastian to go undercover, lure out the bosses like Ramirez. Come on, I'll explain more down at the station."
"No."
"Look Jake, you can't stay here. If you and Laura come with me now, I can still keep you out of the whole thing. But we have to go, now." Brian's tone grew very insistent.
"You know this isn't right, Brian. You're letting him get away with this, like you did when Jason died," Holmes spat bitterly.
Sebastian piped up, "Jason deserved it. He was nothing but a …" He never got to finish his sentence, for Holmes lunged across the room, shoving him into the ground. A couple of punches flew before Brian and I managed to separate the two, not before Holmes threw a punch that knocked Sebastian to the ground.
"Gary, I need you up here," Brian shouted into his radio before shoving Holmes back into the far wall.
"Laura, I need you to check Sebastian. He's been knocked unconscious." Brian threw a dirty look at Holmes.
I somehow managed to find my feet under me and walked towards Sebastian, who was now laying on the floor. I kneeled down and checked his vital signs. "He's got a pulse and he's breathing. He should come to in a few minutes, but we should get him to the ER to check for possible signs of bleeding in his head."
Brian heaved a sigh of relief, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Thank god. I'm going to call an ambulance, and you, Jake, and all of us are going down to the station to sort this out, ok? I'm going to try my damnedest to keep you two out of this mess." Brian glanced down at me, slightly smiling.
I nodded. "Ok."
"How did you find out about this meeting?" Holmes asked suddenly.
Brian's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"
Holmes seemed to be on a roll. "Ramirez, Maggie, Laura, Sebastian, and I are the only ones who knew about this meeting. You could have only found out through Sebastian, because Maggie was with Ramirez the whole time and couldn't have contacted you about the meeting before it got underway. So, did Sebastian call you directly?"
Brian shook his head slowly. "Matter of fact, he didn't. No, actually, I heard it from…"
"It was you, wasn't it? You were trying to set me up," Holmes suddenly whirled around to facea man who was standing in the doorway, his face still hidden by the dark shadow of the hallway. Holmes' voice seemed rather nonchatlant, as if this entire situation was completely expected.
The icy laugh that followed Holmes' remark seemed somewhat familiar, but still, the man remained in the shadow. "You brought it on yourself, Jake. Asking questions you shouldn't have. If we had it your way, we never would have broken the big Gambino case."
Holmes pressed on. "The Gambinos were going down; Brian and my brother had all the evidence to bring them down. Why did you have to set him up?"
"Because he refused to leave me out of it." The figure emerged from the doorway was the one I least expected- Agent Gary Sholto, with a revolver pointed at Holmes.
Brian gasped. "What are you doing, Gary? Put the gun away. Whatever it is, I'm sure we can all work this out."
Gary shook his head. "No. Brian, you don't understand."
Holmes continued, as if he had planned for this all along. "My brother was going to expose you for the spy that you were. He had proof that you were receiving payments from the Gambino family for updating them on the investigation. Jason was going to show how you personally thwarted the investigation into the family at least three times."
Brian paled. "Is that true, Gary? You were the mole?"
Gary didn't say anything, but pulled back the hammer on his gun.
Holmes continued, as if nothing had happened. "And then you arranged a meeting with Jason, telling him that you were going to confess, repent your sins. And my brotherfoolishly believed you, and showed up believing you were going with him to confess to internal affairs, and instead, you had Sebastian here meet him and shoot him. Six times in the face."
Brian staggered under the weight of this new information. "Gary, tell me you didn't do that. Tell me…" his voice broke, and I watched a single tear roll down Brian's cheek.
"I had no choice, Brian. They were coming after my family," Gary protested.
"Then you could have come to me. You could have gone to Jake. We would have been able to help you out. If you messed up the investigation, fine, but did you really have to get him killed like that?" Brian countered.
"Not only that, you then pinned everything on Jason. They refused to fully prosecute my brother's death because you told them that he was the spy," Holmes finished.
"I had no choice! I was going to lose everything! Jake was such a goody-two shoes, he couldn't let it rest. I begged him to let it rest, that we had enough evidence to lock up the Gambinos, we didn't have to worry about the mole anymore, but he just couldn't. He was on some godforsaken search for 'truth,' and God forbid anyone get in the way of that. I'm sorry Brian, there was no other way!" Gary shouted, before getting a grip on himself, sneering at Holmes. "And who knew that nosiness ran in families? Jason couldn't let it go, and neither could you. So now, since you're all here, I can't exactly let you just walk out, can I?"
Gary's gun was still pointed at Holmes, but before anyone could react, he swung it over in my direction. "Ladies first."
AN: And I'm so horrible, leaving you at this cliffhanger. Don't worry, I'll update ASAP. I was just so exhausted after writing this section that I just couldn't find a better place to stop. This chapter was rather difficult to write because there are so many things I didn't want to leave out, and I hope this makes sense (in terms of tying the whole story together). Please let me know if there's anything that still isn't clear, particularly with the Jason/Gary/Brian/Jake back story with the Gambino crime family. And yes, Maggie is an undercover FBI agent, in case you couldn't tell.
Thanks again to all my reviewers! Whew, hope this one was long enough for you guys (I don't think any other chapters will be quite this long).
Masked Phantom- It's always been about trust between Jake and Laura. The inspiration for that particular conversation was the one between Watson and Holmes where Holmes asks Watson to go with him to break into a house, and there, trust is the issue, and I felt it extremely relevant to the situation Jake and Laura are in. Ahh, I don't know if Jake has that much of a softer side. He's still Holmes, to certain degree, even if the next few chapters don't seem like it.
QueenofSpain- Yeah, Holmes is a prick, but mind you, Laura is a bit panicky herself. Hope there was enough of Brian in this chapter for you. And really, how could Brian possibly be evil?
Hermione Holmes- Thanks for the compliment; it means so much that you can describe exactly what I was trying to convey about the Watson-Holmes friendship. Hope this chapter wasn't too rough (however much I tweaked with it, it still seemed choppy and unrealistic.)
Kenta Divina- Yay Brian supporter! Yeah, he's not the bad guy. Obviously. He's just an FBI agent trying to do his job, despite all the craziness that's going on.
Kittenchatter- hello faithful! Yes, Watson is always panicky, insecure, and that's the fun of it all! Of course, she's too much of a straight arrow to really ever lie to Holmes about something that practically drives her into a panic attack. Holmes is trying, although I don't think he still quite understands what this whole thing he has with Watson is about. And yes, I totally see his point too, in terms of Watson being a liability and ruining his stupid vendetta. And sorry, I love Brian too much to make him a bad guy.
Pinkpanther- thanks for the love and support! Hope this was up to par!
L'Wren- thanks for the compliment. I'm not that great a writer, just having fun with this whole thing.
