Deadly Strain (Biological Response Team) (17 page)

“Mine,” Max said like the answer should be obvious.

“Have you worked with Faulkner before?”

“No.”

“Faulkner is damn good at his job. Probably as good as you are at yours. You need to give a little, Max,” Sharp said to him. “Sometimes it’s about staying alive long enough to find the cure.”

Max didn’t hide his expression of distaste for that idea. “You Special Forces soldiers always think you have the answer.”

“That’s because we do.”

Max grumbled something under his breath, then turned and began unpacking his equipment.

Faulkner waved at Sharp from across the room.

“Good to see you, Falcon,” Sharp said with a salute. “I wish I had better news to report.”

“Cutter’s dead?”

“Yeah. Marshall is more than one brick short of an outhouse. We were fired upon from the base.”

“Well, you did steal a helicopter.”

“We were following Max’s orders,” Sharp explained. “And Marshall was, in no way, making rational decisions. He’d thrown Grace into some kind of gulag without allowing her to get all the medical care she needed, which is probably the reason she’s got an infection now.”

“Grace, is it?” Faulkner studied Sharp with eyes that missed nothing.

“She’s earned her place on our team,” Sharp told him. “Ask the rest of them. She’s even got Smoke speaking in complete sentences.”

Faulkner grunted and a smile came and went on his face. Getting him to smile was a tough job. “Why don’t you start from the beginning and tell me the whole story?”

“Yeah, that would be the moment we stepped onto FOB Bostick about two weeks ago. No, it’s pushing two and a half weeks now.” He shook his head. “Marshall took one look at Grace, confirmed her name, then devolved into a dictator on the spot.”

Chapter Twenty

Faulkner crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. “He called Max and yelled like a madman at him.”

“I can’t see Max taking that without comment.”

“Nope. It was a fun phone fight to watch. Neither one of them listened to a word the other said.”

“Even the word
anthrax
?”

“They threatened each other with it.” Faulkner shrugged, disgust wrinkling his nose. “Like a couple of screaming little kids.”

“Things have been FUBAR since we got to Bostick, but it wasn’t until we got sent out to investigate the deaths of a village full of people over the span of less than twenty-four hours that things went completely to hell.” Sharp looked Faulkner in the eyes. “Someone shot our aircraft down and I don’t think it was an accident.”

“How so?”

“At the time the crash didn’t seem connected to the anthrax, but now...there are too many coincidences. Too much of the wrong information getting out and not enough of the right info.” Sharp glanced at the alcove where Grace was sleeping. “The only reason I’m still alive is because she stepped it up and shot three extremists before they could kill me.”

“I heard you got shot.”

Sharp found himself reluctant to take his gaze off Grace. “Yeah, that and shrapnel from the crash, but I’m okay.”

“If Marshall did intentionally kill Cutter,” Faulkner said slowly, “the shitstorm has only started.”

“Isn’t General Stone coming to relieve Marshall of his command?” Sharp asked.

“Not exactly.” Faulkner smiled ruefully. “He’ll arrive at Bostick tomorrow morning, and plans to straighten all this out, but he isn’t taking sides until he hears from everyone. Marshall will still be in command of the base.”

“Well, that’s just fucking perfect. Grace is scared to death of him.”

“Why?”

“She wouldn’t tell me.”

Faulkner watched Max move around, preparing his equipment and directing a couple of soldiers as they created a clean room with the plastic sheeting.

“So, we have two volatile situations,” Faulkner said slowly. “One is the threat of someone using this anthrax as a weapon, and the other is a bunch of officers who hate each other’s guts and are possibly willing to kill because of it.”

“I think we need more hazard pay,” Sharp said.

Faulkner grinned at him. “Now, there’s a request I’d love to see you make in person.”

“You just want to see someone kick my ass,” Sharp said with a smirk. He moved off to check the alcove and was happy to see Grace still sleeping. Her IV antibiotic bag was nearly empty, so he mentioned it to Max.

Max glanced at him in a way that made it clear he’d forgotten all about Sharp already. “Don’t touch anything,” he said as he disappeared into the alcove. He came back a few seconds later and continued to set up his work area and equipment. “Her fever is down a little, but she needs more sleep.”

“How long until you’ve done what you need to do?” Sharp asked him.

Max snorted. “I have no idea, but I’ve been given a thirty-six-hour deadline to deliver a report with recommendations to General Stone.”

Sharp grunted. “I didn’t think you had that much time.”

Max turned to stare at him. “I hope you’re wrong.”

“So do I.”

Max continued to stare.

“What?” Sharp asked.

“You’re the sniper, right?”

“Yeah.”

Max nodded. “She trusts you, which is why I’m going to give you a direct order.”

Sharp couldn’t keep his eyebrows down.

Max didn’t seem to notice. “Whatever happens with this situation, don’t leave her alone with Colonel Marshall.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now, I’m going to begin some delicate work. Please tell the others to make every effort to be quiet.”

“Colonel,” Sharp said. “We’re hiding from an awful lot of people who would love to kill us. Quiet is our first order of business.”

* * *

Grace woke feeling hungry and in desperate need of the cave’s inadequate bathroom facilities.

She put out a hand so she could leverage her body into a sitting position and noticed the IV in the vein on the back of her hand. She followed the tubing up to a couple of bags hanging off a pole above her head. After maneuvering herself onto her knees, she was able to read the labels on the bags.

Saline and
clindamycin.

Memories from the past few hours rose hesitantly. Max arriving. Her infected wound. Max putting in an IV. Several times Sharp’s hands and voice reassuring her she was going to be okay.

No one was around, so she pulled her pants down, peeked under the bandage and looked at her sore leg. It was red and inflamed, but not quite as bad as she remembered. She felt less foggy too. Maybe her fever had gone down enough for her to think clearly.

Redressing, she got up, grabbed her IV bags and left the alcove.

Darkness had fallen and the cave was lit in strategic places only. Those light sources were carefully shielded so no light could make it through the patchwork of debris and garbage camouflaging the hillside exit of the cave.

Max was inside a do-it-yourself clean room fashioned out of clear plastic. He was wearing a full bio-suit and was seated at a microscope viewing something through the lens.

The Special Forces soldiers were scattered around the rest of the cave, playing cards, sleeping or watching Max. Until she came into view.

Sharp got to his feet and walked over to her, putting one finger over his lips to tell her to be quiet. As soon as he was close enough, he leaned down to whisper in her ear, “A group of twenty men are camped about fifty feet away, along the edge of the garbage dump. They’re not carrying a lot of firepower and look like locals, so I don’t think they’re here for us.” He paused then asked, “How are you feeling?”

“Like crap,” she whispered back. “But better than a little while ago. My head is clear.”

Even in the near darkness, she could make out a relieved smile on his face. “Good. Why don’t you sleep some more?”

“Can’t,” she said, wincing. “I need to use the ladies’ room again.”

“Okay. You remember where it is?”

She nodded. “I don’t remember if there’s somewhere to hang these, though.” She lifted the IV bags.

“Let’s take a look,” Sharp said and led the way to the hole in the ground.

She smiled at Smoke, Hernandez and the other soldiers she knew as she walked by. They smiled or gave her thumbs up in return. The ones she didn’t know nodded respectfully to her, which surprised her enough that her nods back were probably more than a little wobbly.

As soon as she and Sharp were away from the lit area of the cave, darkness made walking difficult and she found herself standing alone, trying to see where Sharp went. He surfaced out of the dark, took her hand and tugged her along behind him.

Then she realized he must be wearing his night vision goggles. “Hey,” she whispered. “Got a pair of those goggles for me?”

He didn’t answer audibly, just squeezed her hand, but she figured that was a yes. They slowed, then he put the goggles in her hand.

She got them on and slid past him and around a short corner of the rock wall to the hole in the floor of the cave. Ugh.

There was however, a ridge of rock she was able to hook her IV bags to. Yay.

Sharp didn’t say a thing when she gave him back the goggles and he led her back to the main room of the cave. She expected him to drop her hand as soon as it was safe, but he didn’t. He kept hold of hers until she stopped in front of the plastic clean room. She tugged and Sharp set her free with a shake of his head.

What was his problem?

“How are you feeling?” Max stood on the other side of the plastic.

“Better.” She smiled. “Have you made progress?”

“Some. I think I know how this anthrax strain kills so fast.”

That was incredible news, so why did he look and sound so glum?

“And?” she prompted.

“And I don’t know if any known antibiotic will have any effect. I’m setting up a sensitivity test right now.”

“What mechanism makes this bug so deadly?”

“There seems to be an affinity for red blood cells, lysing them like a hemolytic streptococcus would. It might be leading to a rapid onset of sepsis that kills the patient.”

“So rapid the antibiotic can’t keep up?”

“That’s what I’m afraid of. If those first soldiers died of the anthrax infection despite the fact that they’d been given Cipro prior to deployment, we have a big problem here.”

“Have you tried mixing Cipro with other antibiotics? If it’s behaving like a strep, try penicillin boosted by a beta-lactamase inhibitor along with it.”

“An interesting approach. One worth investigating.”

“Working with anthrax requires level-three containment facilities,” Grace observed. “Who could have made it?”

Max looked grim. “There are no official labs of that level in Afghanistan. The closest ones are in India. Anyone crazy enough to release this bacteria into a village to see what it would do, isn’t interested in proper procedure or safety.”

“What can I do to help?” she asked. She wanted to get in there and assist. She was feeling better despite the exhaustion pulling at her and making her knees wobble.

Max’s gaze shifted, following the small movement. “You can get some more sleep,” he told her, turning away to go back to the microscope.

“But—”

“Grace,” Max said, his impatience all but shouting at her from his partially turned body, as if he had to force himself to stop and talk to her. “I need you healthy, not on the verge of collapse. Have something to eat and let your sharpshooter and his
pals
take care of you.”

The room full of men behind her went graveyard quiet.

“For a smart guy, Max,” she said, forcing a sunny tone into her voice that didn’t agree with her clenched hands on her hips, “you say the dumbest things. Do not shove
my
soldiers into that cramped
barely necessary item
box in the back of your head. These aren’t some uneducated grunts. They’re highly trained and very intelligent.” She lifted her chin. “Now, apologize.”

“Apple what?” Max asked as if he’d never heard the word before.

“Apologize, Max. Sharp and the others deserve it.”

Max finally looked past Grace to the men behind her. He paused, then blew out a breath and said, “I’m sorry, gentlemen. I tend to think my work is more important than everyone else’s.”

“Don’t sweat it, Max,” Sharp said. Grace realized he was standing right behind her. “I intend to take care of her...and you.”

Grace looked up at Sharp’s impassive face. He wasn’t kidding.

She stifled a laugh. It could be fun to see him boss Max around when it came time for the colonel to get some sleep or eat.

“Come on, Doc,” Sharp said to her. “Time for another MRE.”

“Oh, joy,” she said, but followed him over to an unoccupied spot on the floor not far from where Smoke sat watching Max work.

His large hand covered her forehead.

She stared at him and the hand disappeared.

“You don’t feel hot,” Smoke said to her.

Wow, four whole words strung together. Usually, she had to work hard to get that many out of him. “I think my fever is gone.”

A shadow fell over her and Sharp bent down with another MRE and a spork to eat it with.

“Thanks,” she said as she took the food from him. The warmer around the meal was already doing its job and she found the heat reassuring and comforting. Once the sun went down, the temperature did, as well.

“He doesn’t have much of a bedside manner, does he?” Sharp asked.

“No,” Grace agreed. “He’s pretty focused on the work. People usually come second with him, until you prove you’re smart enough to be useful. Once he considers you part of his team, he’ll take care of you whether you like it or not.” She took a bite of her food, then added, “Sort of like you.”

“He is pretty protective of you. Falcon said he pushed hard to get here. Used up a couple of favors and now owes a couple more. Are you sure he doesn’t have a thing for you?”

“I’m sure.” Was Sharp jealous? She leaned in close and said in that tone he’d taught her that didn’t carry at all, “He’s head over heels for someone else.”

“You sure?”

“Yep. I’m on his team, which means he’s like an older brother. There’s a gal who works with us sometimes who has him tied up in knots. I don’t think he even realizes he’s crazy about her.” She ate another couple of bites. “He’s protective, but he’s also really good at pushing me to do things that might be a stretch.”

“Like the training we’ve been doing together for the last year?”

She froze for part of a second, then forced herself to carry on. “Yes, like that.”

Sharp leaned close this time and whispered, “You’d better not be thinking of me as a brother.”

From the way the men around them glanced at her with smiles on their faces, he hadn’t whispered quietly enough.

She focused on her food, shoving a large bite into her mouth so she couldn’t answer.

Smoke nudged her with one shoulder.

Her face grew hot as she finally swallowed down the food. Why had she stood up for Sharp again?

“Oh no,” she said with mock seriousness. “I think of you as irritating, bossy and occasionally dense, but never as a brother.”