Red Hammer: Voodoo Plague Book 4 (20 page)

“You know that train is leaving in less than 20 minutes. 
Right?”  Rachel shouted over the wind noise.

“I know.”  Jackson answered.  “We’re still close enough. 
You want out so you can go back?”

“Drive faster and quit asking stupid questions.”  Rachel
said.

Roach and Synthia sat in the truck on the side of the road,
half a mile from the heavily guarded main gate to Tinker Air Force Base, just
outside Oklahoma City.  They were tired, hungry and didn’t know where to go.  A
few hotels and restaurants were still open for business, but they didn’t have
any way to pay for a room or food.  As they had driven around the city, it was
obvious that the residents had settled in for the duration.  Everyone they saw
on the street was armed, and Roach didn’t like their chances if they tried to
steal anything.  Including gas for the truck, which was down to less than a
quarter of a tank.

“What are we doing?”  Synthia asked.

“Why are you still with me?”  Roach finally asked.  “You
could have told the woman at the roadblock the truth, and there was nothing I
could have done.”

“Maybe I like the way you fuck me.”  She said.  Roach turned
to look at her in shock.

“What?  You
like
that?”  Synthia was one of very few
women that Roach had not killed after having sex.  He was a brutal and violent
partner, using his fists on the girl as he penetrated her.

“Yeah.  I do.  Pain makes it better.  Maybe sometime we
could…”  Her voice trailed off.

“We could what?”  Roach asked when it was apparent she
wasn’t going to continue her thought.  She remained silent for almost a minute
before speaking again.

“It’s just that I thought it would be kind of cool to maybe
have another girl that I could, uh, do things to while you were fucking her. 
Maybe share the pain.  Maybe even more than that.”  She looked Roach in the
eyes and at that moment he recognized a kindred spirit.

Roach was shocked.  Intellectually, he had always known there
were others out there like him.  He had always wondered about trying to connect
with another like him, but had been too afraid of going on any of the internet
chat rooms.  Too many stories in the media about cops posing as anything from
underage girls to hit men for hire for him to take the risk.  Now, Synthia had
dropped into his lap, and he was stunned that he’d found a like minded soul in
a girl’s body.

“I shouldn’t have said that.”  Synthia said and looked away
when Roach didn’t react to her statement.

“Yes, you should have.  I think that would be cool, too.” 
He said and smiled.  She smiled back and reached for his hand. 

“You’ve done… stuff?  Before?”  She asked, still hesitant to
freely talk about the topic.

“Yes.”  Roach smiled and squeezed her hand.  “I have.  For
years.  It’s the biggest rush in the world.”  He surprised himself how quickly
he was opening up to her.  How much of a need to share his adventures with
another person that he’d been suppressing for years.

“So how do we do this?”  She asked.

“We appear as normal as possible.  Hide in plain sight. 
Don’t do anything on impulse, and don’t do it to anyone that can be connected
back to us.”  The advice spilled out without Roach even thinking about it.

“And how do we do that?  We don’t have any money, any place
to sleep, no food.  Nothing.”

“Yes, we do.”  Roach said and pointed through the windshield
at the Air Base.  “Keep using your sister’s name.  You’re my wife.  We met and were
married last week in Nashville before evacuating on a train that we got off of
in West Memphis where we took this truck.  Whirlwind romance.  No details. 
Play the frightened and traumatized girl.  Got it?”

“Got it.”  She said with a smile.

Shifting the truck into drive, he drove slowly up to the
gate, stopping where indicated by a large Security Forces Sergeant.  Three
Humvees with mounted machine guns sat in a semi-circle just inside the gate. 
The guns were trained directly on the cab of the pickup.  The Sergeant walked
up to the driver’s side window as another with a dog on a short lead walked
along the passenger side of the vehicle.

Roach identified himself and asked to be taken to the
Sergeant’s commanding officer.  He was told to stay where he was as the man
stepped away and started speaking into a radio attached to his vest.  It was a
short conversation and he quickly returned to the truck.

“You and the passenger step out of the vehicle, sir.”  He
said.

Roach turned the engine off and nodded to Synthia to get out
of the cab.  She came around the hood of the truck and walked very close to
Roach as they were led through a small walk gate to a waiting Hummer.  A young
female Airman was behind the wheel and the Sergeant opened the back door and
waved them in.  Closing the door, he climbed into the front passenger seat and
told the driver where to go.

Roach and Synthia were separated as soon as they walked into
the Security Forces office.  They were taken to interrogation rooms and left
alone after each being given an MRE and two bottles of water.  Sometime later
an Air Force Major walked into the room where Roach sat waiting.  The Major had
a file folder in his hand, dropping it onto the stainless steel table before
sitting down across from Roach.  Getting comfortable, he opened the folder and
looked from Roach’s face to what must have been a file photo he had printed
out.

“I’m Major Thomas.  You say your Air Force Captain Lee
William Roach.  Correct?”  He got straight to the point.

“Yes, I am.  Scan my hand into the system if you don’t
believe the photo, sir.”  Roach answered, wondering why that hadn’t been done
already.  Maybe the system was down with no one left to maintain it.  He knew
the military used a civilian contract service to tie into literally thousands
of different databases around the world.  It would probably be a minor miracle
if the service was still up and running.

“All in time.”  The Major replied, Roach taking that as a
confirmation the system was no longer operating.   “First, you need to answer
some questions.  You are assigned to Arnold in Tennessee.  What are you doing
here, out of uniform in a civilian vehicle?”

If Roach hadn’t been on the other side of the table a
hundred times at least, he might have experienced a moment of panic.  But he
knew the drill.  Ask the questions to which there is an obvious answer first. 
See if the person you’re questioning tries to lie about something that there’s
no need to lie about.  That will set the course for the rest of the
interrogation.

Roach spun his story.  Mostly truth.  He talked about the
second wave of infection that had devastated Arnold.  He embellished how he had
helped in an emergency evacuation of the base onto a Globemaster that had
crashed on take off.  He told how he had escaped in a Hummer, as the infected
overran the base, and drove to Nashville where he’d helped with the
evacuation.  Meeting “Tammy”, which was the name Synthia would have provided,
falling in love at first sight and seeking out a preacher to marry them just
before boarding the last train out of the city.

The Major sat quietly, not asking any questions as Roach
talked, just jotting notes on a spiral notepad.  When Roach finished, the Major
started asking for details.  He jumped around the timeline Roach had laid out,
looking for any inconsistencies, any change in the story that would indicate a
lie.  But Roach was a master of deception, having perfected that particular
skill while still a teenager, and the Major couldn’t find any loose threads in
the story to start unraveling.

“Thank you.  I’ve got a few things to go check out.”  The
Major said abruptly, stood up, collected his notebook and file folder and left
the room.  Several hours passed, and Roach was starting to get concerned when
the door opened and a Security Forces Senior Airman walked in with a bulging
duffel bag.

“Captain, I’m here to escort you and Mrs. Roach to housing. 
Please come with me, sir.”  Roach smiled and stood up.

It really pisses me off when I get fooled as completely as
the Russian bitch had managed.  Her English was perfect.  Not a trace of an
accent, not an incorrectly used idiom, nothing.  And she had played the role of
frightened scientist to a tee.  But I still chastised myself for having been
duped. 

I knew that Los Alamos would be a huge temptation for
Russian intelligence, knew it well enough that I had armed a nuke to destroy
the place after we were gone, but the idea that Dr. Monroe wasn’t who she
claimed to be had never entered my little pea brain.

Now we were in a world of shit.  Three rifles trained on us,
and while we had ours in our hands they weren’t aimed.  If one of us started to
move I had little doubt we’d all be shot without any further hesitation.  But
then, why hadn’t they just shot us as we ran up?  What did they want?  Did the
woman know about the armed and ticking bomb five levels beneath our feet and
need me to disarm it? 

I didn’t think she knew.  She’d been outside the vault when
Scott and I had our brief conversation and I had set the timer on the SADM.  So
if that wasn’t it, what the hell did they want?  I’m cute, but I’m not that
cute.

“Lower your weapons, Major.”  The woman said, rifle not
wavering in the least.

“Indanahway suka bluut!”  Was my answer in Russian, which
I’ve found is a wonderful language for cursing.  Translated, I said ‘Fuck off
bitch slut’, which sounds stilted to American ears but is considered very
offensive by Russians.  Other than a brief widening of her eyes, she didn’t
react.  One of the men snorted, but I couldn’t tell if it was in humor or
offense for the honor of the woman.

“Why don’t we try English,” she said.  “Your Russian is
horrible.  Where did you learn it, anyway?  US Army’s language school?  I
always thought they did a better job.”

Actually, I had never learned Russian.  I had wanted to
rotate through the Army’s language school in California, but it seemed there
was always one more mission and never time for me to go immerse myself in a
foreign language.  Besides, we’d always had someone on our team that could
speak the language in whatever region of the world we were operating in. 

My few, crude Russian phrases came from a drunken leave in
Bangkok where I’d run into some Russian soldiers on leave.  After we sorted out
who could fight better, known as who has the bigger dick, we became drinking
buddies for two days.  They’d taught me how to curse in Russian.  I’d taught
them how to not scare off the Thai bar girls.  We’d not exactly become friends,
but had reached a friendly truce for a long weekend.  Détente, I think they
used to call it.

“What do you want?”  I asked her.

“I want to help you.”  She said.  “I’m going to have my men
lower their weapons so we can talk.  First I want your word that you won’t fire
on us as soon as we do.”

I stared at her for a long moment, trying to figure out what
she was up to.  They needed something from us, otherwise we’d be dead already. 
She had us cold, and she knew it, but she was willing to compromise her
position to gain my trust.

“You have my word.”  I answered, then I ordered Martinez and
Scott to stand down.

She looked in my eyes for another moment before lowering her
rifle.  The two Russian soldiers followed her example without having to be
told.

“My name is Captain Irina Vostov.”  She introduced herself,
stepping closer to me.  “I’m with the GRU.  I’m sure you know what that is.”

The GRU is the largest intelligence agency in the world. 
The KGB, and it’s successor the SVR, was made popular in movies as the Russian
bad guys, but they were small in comparison to the GRU.  Part of the Russian
military and also the directorate that controlled all Spetsnaz troops, they
were responsible for all Russian military intelligence.  It made sense that the
GRU would be very interested in the toys housed at Los Alamos.

“I know what you are.”  I answered.

“We were here ahead of you.”  She explained.  “We watched
you approach in the truck, MRAP you call it?  Something like that?  When it
became apparent you would make it inside, I found these clothes and ID in an
office so I could find out why you were here.  What are you planning to do with
those bombs?”

“Planning to fuck you with one of them, caja.”  Martinez
said under her breath, but the Russian Captain heard and turned to look at her.

“What is that?  Caja?”  She asked.

“It’s not important.”  I interrupted before she found out
Martinez had just called her a cunt in Spanish.  No reason to keep poking the
Russian bear at the moment.  “We need them to fight the infected.  Leave them
in the path of the herds to slow them down and thin them out.”

She looked at me, blue eyes locked on mine.  Would she
accept my lie?  I was pretty sure she was smarter than that.  A woman became an
officer in the GRU one of two ways.  Either she was incredibly beautiful and
willing to seduce and sleep with any man who had information her service
needed, or she was very smart and ruthless. 

Captain Vostov certainly had the looks to be used as what is
know as a honey pot, seducing and using foreign men, but she wouldn’t be here
with two Spetsnaz soldiers if that was her specialty.  That meant she was even
smarter than she was beautiful.  Great.  A smart and beautiful woman.  How many
of those had changed the course of world history?

“I don’t think I believe you.”  She smiled.  “But we can
discuss that further after I tell you what I have to offer.  Perhaps we can
make a trade.”  She moved cautiously, slinging her rifle and holding her hand
out to her soldiers.  One of them reached into his pack and handed her a small
box, about the size of a box for a pair of children’s shoes.  She held it up in
front of her in both hands.

“This is enough vaccine to inoculate 100 people against the
Chinese virus.  There is also a flash drive with the technical information
needed to allow your scientists to synthesize more vaccine.  This is what I
have to offer.”

I was stunned.  I don’t know what I expected, but this was
as about as far from it as possible.  A vaccine?  But did we need it?  There
had been a second outbreak already.  I kept hearing that there were people that
were immune to the nerve gas/virus combination.  Wasn’t that what was left
alive?

“I don’t understand.”  I said.  “We’ve already had the nerve
gas kill or turn millions, then there was a secondary outbreak from the virus. 
Those of us that are left are supposedly immune.”

“No, they are not.  The virus acts faster in some people
than others.  There will be another outbreak in less than a week.  The virus is
airborne.  Everyone is infected now.  When the next outbreak happens, there
will be no one left that has not been vaccinated.  Russia will rule the world,
or what’s left of it.  All we’ll have to do is clean out the infected, then
everything is ours.”

Was she telling the truth?  A third outbreak?  A thrill of
fear ran up my spine and on either side of me I could see Martinez and Scott
exchange worried glances.

“Why?”  I asked.  “Why would you give this to me?  Isn’t
this what Russia’s always wanted?  Wipe out America and rule the world?”

“Why?  You confuse Russia with the corrupt, power mad few
that rule our country.  You think this is what the Russian people want?  To see
millions, no, billions of innocent people turned into raging monsters for us to
gun down?  To watch the world die around us?  Nyet!” 

As she spoke I could hear the anger in her voice and see it
flash in her eyes.  Was she sincere, or was she just one hell of an actress? 

“As it has been for generations, you American’s do not
understand the Russian people.  Does your current president accurately reflect
the hearts of the American people?  Does he care about what is best for
America, or is he as corrupt as I think he is?  Power hungry and making
decisions that only stroke his own ego and promote his personal agenda?”

I thought about what she was saying and found I couldn’t
disagree with her.  But just because she had a good picture of American
politics didn’t mean she wasn’t running a game on me.

“Say I believe you.  That there really is another outbreak
coming and there is a vaccine in that box that will save what’s left of
America.  What do you want in exchange?”  I asked.

She smiled.  This time a genuine smile, not the one from
earlier that reminded me of a shark getting ready to bite my ass off.

“I want the nuclear bombs and their keys.”  She said,
gesturing at the two carts Scott and I were standing behind.  “They are what we
came here for, but hadn’t found them before you showed up.”

“What do you want them for?”  I was confused.  Russia had at
least as many, if not more, nukes than the US.  These bombs were 50 year old
technology.  What could they possibly need them for?

“It is time for a, what do you Americans call it?  Regime
change?  Yes, regime change.  It is time for that in Russia.  But the Kremlin
is heavily guarded, and we cannot get close enough to arrest or kill our
corrupt leaders.  Neither can we gain access to Russian munitions.  Too many
people who would betray us in an attempt to curry favor.  So, we decided to use
American bombs.  Poetic justice to use bombs from America, is it not?”

The information she had given me raced through my head.  Did
I believe her?  Yes, I did.  Everything rang true, right down to the emotion in
her voice as she spoke.  Besides, she didn’t need to trade anything for the
SADMs.  They could have shot us and taken them without saying a word, but they
didn’t. 

“And that’s why you were here when we arrived?  To get the
bombs?”  I asked.

“We knew there were bombs here.  We’ve been here for two
days looking for them.  I had hoped to find some scientists or military still
alive in the building that I could make the trade with, but there were only
infected when we arrived.”

I had a decision to make.  The plan, the mission, my orders
were to retrieve the SADMs for use against the Russians that were on American
soil.  We were supposed to penetrate Kirtland AFB and leave two surprise
packages for the Russians before beating feet to rejoin the Colonel at Tinker
AFB in Oklahoma City.  From there, other teams would be dispatched with nukes for
Montana and South Dakota.  If I agreed to Captain Vostov’s proposal, none of
that would happen.

But what if I didn’t agree and there was a third, and potentially
final outbreak?  Other than killing a few thousand Russian airmen and soldiers,
what would we accomplish by deploying the nukes only to fall victim to the
Voodoo Plague virus?  When I laid it out in its simplest terms, it was an easy
decision to make.  For not the first time in my career, I decided to willfully
disobey orders. 

Colonel Crawford might stand me up against a wall and put a
bullet in my head, but I had to take the opportunity the Russian woman was
offering.  But first things first.  My dad had always told me to never trust a
beautiful woman making an offer that sounded too good to be true.  Once I was
in my thirties and realized Dad wasn’t the dumbest person to ever inhabit the
planet, I understood what he’d been trying to tell me.

“How do I know there isn’t a vial of saline and a flash
drive full of Russian folk tunes in that box?”  I asked. 

She smiled and slid the lid open and held the box up for me
to see.  Inside was a foam block with cutouts for four large vials of a reddish
tinged liquid.  A small USB flash drive rested on top of the foam between two
of the vials.

“What can I do to prove it to you?”  She asked.

I was stumped.  Even researchers would need specialized
equipment and training to know what was in those vials and to make sense of the
data on the flash drive.  I was in way over my head and had two choices.  Trust
the Russians, which went against everything I’d ever believed, or turn them
down and start a firefight that most of us wouldn’t survive.  But could I risk
passing on the opportunity of a vaccine?

I decided to trust my gut.  I’m usually right when I do.  I
had known Katie less than three weeks when I asked her to marry me.  Still
don’t know if that was my gut, or another part of my anatomy a little bit
lower, but it was the right decision. 

The worst case scenario was that she was playing me and I
lost all the nukes.  Best case, she was telling the truth and if I didn’t have
that vaccine there really was no point in worrying about Russians on American
soil.  Time to trust my gut.

“Three of them.”  I said.  “That should be more than enough
for your purposes.”

“And what do you really plan to do with the rest?”  She
asked, closing the lid on the box.  “You really don’t expect me to believe
they’re just for the infected.  Perhaps you’re planning to sacrifice a few
American air bases and their Russian captors along with them.  No?”

“Three for the box, or we can see who has the faster trigger
fingers.”  I said, staring into her eyes.  She stared back for nearly a full
minute, then smiled.

“Agreed.”  She said.  “As long as I have your word that they
won’t be used on Russians.  Our troops have been told that they are here at the
request of the American president because the military is trying to take over. 
It’s not the fighting men, it’s the Kremlin.  We have a common enemy, Major.”

“How is it you know the truth?”  I asked.

“I am GRU.  I know everything.  Besides, my uncle is… well,
he’s very high up and is helping with bringing down the madman that occupies
the Kremlin.  Barinov makes Stalin seem like a disciple of Gandhi.”  The look
on her face told me she was afraid she’d said too much about her uncle.  No one
is that good of an actor.

“How long for you to get this done and your uncle to seize
power?”  I asked.

“My, but you are smarter than you look.”  She laughed. 
“Yes, my uncle plans to step into the power vacuum left when the Kremlin is
destroyed.  Four days..  That’s what we need.”