Nefarious (The Blackwell Files Book 1) (11 page)

Alton felt for the man. He hadn’t known Graham’s father had been in the Army, much less held the rank of general. The knowledge reassured Alton he had acted soundly in deemphasizing the man’s role in the potential debacle that had nearly played out that day.

Alton neared his barracks and was surprised to see another soldier waiting in the shadows for him. This time, he was pleased to discover Mallory approaching.

“What’d the doc say?” she asked without preamble.

Alton was strangely uncomfortable discussing his physical imperfections with Mallory, but the concern she expressed warranted some type of answer. “It’s hard to say. I tore the muscle again. She said it’ll set me back for now, and the long-term impact is…a little less clear.”

Something about Alton’s demeanor must have tipped his hand, for Mallory leaned in and asked, “Haven’t you said before that you couldn’t overdo your PT or you’d risk reinjuring yourself? Didn’t you say if that happened, you wouldn’t heal as well long-term?”

Alton swallowed. It was the truth, both then and now. Earlier in the day, Dr. Dunwoody’s prognosis had been grim. She had never expected Alton to fully heal, but today she had lowered her estimate of his eventual recovery.

“Yes,” he whispered. “But I’m going to keep working on the PT. If I quit now, I’ll just regret it later, however much I do—or don’t—recover.” He wished he could see her face. His vision had recovered from earlier in the day, but now dark shadows hid her countenance. At one point in the past, Alton had considered pursuing a deeper relationship with her, but over time this aspiration had faded as the futility of it had sunk in. The camp’s other male officers were attracted to her like flies to honey. He couldn’t blame them. Mallory was clever, funny, and quite the looker. Even if he were whole, Alton wouldn’t have fared well against that kind of competition. After today, though? If his injury hadn’t repulsed her before, it couldn’t help but do so now. He would have liked to see her at this moment, as her face would have revealed the extent of her distaste.

“Alton, your friends…we’re here for you,” said Mallory. “Let us know how we can help.” She walked away without warning.

Had Alton made her angry? He didn’t think so. Her voice had trembled when she spoke. Perhaps she had reached the end of her tolerance of his injury. Alton sighed, realizing it had been a stressful day for everyone. Whatever was on Mallory’s mind, he couldn’t blame her wanting to get back to her own barracks.

CHAPTER 26

Research Triangle Park, North Carolina

“What lot are we examining today, boss?” asked the lab technician.

“Number fifty-four,” replied Luis Romero. “Level five is the live sample, and level four is the control.”

The room held long rows of stacked cages, silver and antiseptic, each of which contained a laboratory rat. Romero and the tech began at the far left cage and slowly worked their way along two of the rows, extracting a blood sample from each specimen. Romero then settled into a long day of microscopic examinations.

That evening, Romero called the company’s director of research. “Mr. Finch, I think we may be on to something.”

“What results are you getting, Luis?” asked Jeffrey Finch.

“In lot fifty-four, we’re seeing seventy-seven percent immunity in the live serum group versus three percent for the control. It looks like we have a breakthrough.”

“Are you still seeing the lethargy exhibited by the other test lots? Are there any other obvious side effects?”

“No, sir—not yet,” replied Romero, “but of course we’ll need to monitor the rats for a while, especially since this formula seems to be on the right track.”

“Thanks, Luis. Keep me apprised, will you?”

“Yes, sir.” Romero felt a surge of excitement, hoping this was the breakthrough for which they had been waiting.
Romero was well-acquainted with the near-tragedy that had nearly befallen Finch’s son. As a recent grandfather, the lab supervisor held a new appreciation for the project’s importance in safeguarding children around the world. Until now, the project had struggled to make any headway, and Romero could only hope their luck had finally changed.

Three Months Later

CHAPTER 27

Kabul, Afghanistan

Alton, Mallory, and David lounged with a group of several other friends at the bar in Gandamak’s Lodge.

“How’s the physical therapy coming, Al?” asked David, noticing Alton wince as he shifted his weight on the barstool.

“‘Alton,’ not ‘Al.’ And it’s just about finished, thankfully.”

“And are you feeling back to normal…?” asked David tentatively.

Alton wished he wasn’t having this conversation in Mallory’s presence, but there was no avoiding it now. While he clearly couldn’t deny the existence of the injury, he still felt strangely uncomfortable making a point of discussing it in front of her.

“Well, you know I’ve worked diligently. I didn’t want to slack off during the PT and then regret later that I hadn’t had a more successful recovery. If I had, I’d always be wondering, ‘What if I had worked harder? Would I be more whole than I am now?’ But, despite my efforts, I haven’t regained full function, just as Dr. Dunwoody predicted.” He was silent for a moment. “The femur and surrounding muscle were too badly damaged from the initial bombing and were exacerbated by the two re-injuries I’ve had since I came here. I’ll always have this limp.”

Mallory seemed to sense his mild discomfort with the subject and gently turned the conversation to other topics, but with such a deft hand that none but Alton perceived her design. Of all Alton’s friends besides David, she was the only one who neither showered him with pity nor pretended to be ignorant of the injury altogether.

Alton’s mind traveled down a path it had visited many times before. Did Mallory use her social grace to mask pity? Or did she simply accept that the injury was a part of his identity? As before, he couldn’t say with certainty which alternative was true.

The band of soldiers gathered at the Lodge eventually agreed it was time to return to camp. Earlier in the evening, when he had been seated with David and Mallory and lost in conversation, Alton had almost forgotten that he was injured at all. As he rose to leave, though, he couldn’t help but be painfully reminded, grimacing with the effort of standing.

Mallory smiled at him reassuringly and laid a petite hand on his arm. “Are you okay?”

Alton briefly reflected on the higher plane of life on which he would have existed, had he known Mallory in an uninjured state and somehow earned the blessing of her love.

“Thanks—I’m fine,” he replied, incapable of meeting her friendly gaze lest his own countenance betray his inner turmoil.

As they traveled back from the Lodge, Alton was lost in thought. Earlier in the evening, he had told Mallory and David about the “regret avoidance” principal he applied to his physical-therapy routine. The idea, in essence, was to take necessary and correct actions in the present to avoid future regrets. Should he apply this same principal to his relationship with Mallory? He knew the odds were a hundred to one against him, yet would he later regret not pursuing that one percent chance? Or, more likely, would he regret creating—through unwanted advances—an uncomfortable restraint in a solid friendship that had as yet known none? The question remained unanswered as he retired to bed that night.

Two days later, Alton reported to the physical evaluation board for the exam that would dictate the future direction of his life, determining whether he would return to the battlefield or devise a new plan from scratch.

By the time Alton finished the panel of rigorous tests, sweat poured down his face, and his leg pounded out a steady heartbeat. Nonetheless, he experienced a wave of relief to have the dread and anticipation of the exam removed from his life. He could now reflect on it philosophically. Whatever happened, happened.

That evening in Gandamak’s, he told David and Mallory of the exam.

“Wait,” said David, “You had the physical evaluation today? Why didn’t you tell us before?”

“It didn’t seem important,” replied Alton. And he would rather avoid making it the focus of their conversations, especially around Mallory.

Alton glanced at Mallory, who wore a distinctly troubled look. The concern of his two friends lifted Alton’s spirits. “Guys, it’s not my funeral. I admit I was worried before, but to be honest, I’m relieved it’s over.”

Mallory’s thin smile betrayed elements of remaining concern. “When will you find out the results?”

“They said pretty soon, but hey—this is the Army. ‘Hurry up and wait,’ right?”

CHAPTER 28

Research Triangle Park, North Carolina

Three months had elapsed since the initial success of lot fifty-four, and the subsequent results were almost more than one could wish for. The immunized rats that survived the initial rabies exposure not only continued to show resistance to the disease but also exhibited no other ill effects from the vaccine.

Although it was still early in the drug’s development, Jeffrey Finch felt it appropriate to host a modest celebration in the company cafeteria to recognize the research team for achieving this milestone. He gathered the researchers, techs, and supervisors around him, thanked them for their many hours in the quest to rid the world of a deadly disease, and urged them to even greater efforts until the vaccine had won full FDA and CVB approval. “As you know, rabies isn’t a big problem in the US, but it kills seventy thousand people worldwide every year. With our latest accomplishment, we’re well on our way to finishing phase two trials. However, my friends, only when phase
four
trials are complete, and our product is in every country saving lives, can we declare a final victory.”

After a smattering of polite applause, the gathering broke down into smaller groups. Some attendees visited the refreshments table, while others merely talked. Satisfied with his speech, Finch mingled with the crowd.

As he conversed with a pair of chemists, his cell phone vibrated. Without breaking off his conversation, Finch glanced at the text on his screen: “We have a problem. Come to the lab.”

CHAPTER 29

US Central Command, Army Section, Afghanistan

Colonel Drake locked the door to the secure-line room. He initiated a private call to the NSA Central Operations Command office.

“Operator,” said the answering party.

“This is Colonel Charles Drake with Central Command. I need to leave a message for Red Snake. Can you put me through to his voice mail or ask him to return my call?”

“Stand by, Colonel.”

The colonel stared at the ceiling as he waited for almost ten minutes.

The operator returned. “Red Snake is no longer an active agent. Your new contact will be Ivory Tower. Can I relay a message, Colonel?”

“No, not at this time,” he replied. Rather than expressing surprise or dismay at this unannounced change, Colonel Drake smiled in satisfaction.

CHAPTER 30

Research Triangle Park, North Carolina

Once out of sight of the cafeteria’s celebrants, Jeffrey Finch picked up his pace, nearly running by the time he entered the lab.

“What happened?” he demanded.

“We were preparing the equipment for the local phase three trials—the outdoor population tests,” replied Luis Romero, the lab manager. “Since we’ll have to disburse the vaccine over a wide area for this test, Nelson was attaching a Rabinil canister to the accelerant line. Apparently, the L-value on the canister was damaged. As soon as Nelson pressurized the line, he took a full shot of Rabinil in the face.”

“How is he now?”

“Come look.”

“Good Lord!” Finch took a step back when he saw the prone figure. Nelson was pale, and a trickle of blood seeped from each eye and from his right nostril. The team watched as EMTs wheeled him away on an ambulance gurney.

Finch called an emergency roundtable of the project’s research scientists, Luis Romero, and the lab team leads.

Finch opened the meeting. “Are we sure Nelson’s condition was caused by the Rabinil?”

“It’d be a hell of a coincidence if it was caused by anything else, don’t you think?” replied Romero. A biologist nodded in consent.

“That’s true, Luis,” conceded Finch. “But why did Nelson have such a profound, immediate reaction, when the lab rats were unaffected for weeks? Is it due to the medium of delivery? In other words, Nelson was exposed to an
aerosol
medium, but we administer a
liquid
vaccine to the rats.

“What are other potential explanations? Is the Rabinil absorbed too quickly if applied directly to the eyes? Or could it be that humans as a species have a profoundly different reaction to this particular biologic? Could it be that Nelson is a fluke who didn’t react the way most people would? Or was it simply a bad batch of Rabinil?”

Finch pondered briefly. “Harold, I’d like your team to rule out the ‘bad batch’ theory. Inject lot one-oh-four with the same canister that sprayed Nelson, use lot one-oh-five as the control, and watch all of them with full alpha-level monitoring for seventy-two hours. Let me know what you find either way.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Bob,” continued Finch to the biologist, “Assuming that the batch isn’t contaminated, I need your team to work out the root cause of Nelson’s reaction. Is there any way to test the impact on humans without running the risk of another reaction like his?”

“Not really,” replied the scientist, “considering we haven’t even started the human trials yet. I think we should focus on the lab animals for now. Let’s use the rats to see if there’s a different reaction to using spray versus liquid delivery or to using eyes versus other vaccine entry sites. That would be consistent with the clinical trial procedures.”

“Okay—start with that,” said Finch. “In the meantime, until we know with certainty the drug’s impact on humans, remind the staff to use universal-precaution lab protocols. Let’s keep everyone safe.”