In the Company of Wolves
Title: In the Company of Wolves, Part III
Pairing: JA/JP, JP/OC
Rating: R for violence and language.
Warning: AU
Disclaimer: Complete fiction, and I'm hoping it stays that way.
Summary: The hemorrhagic fever has been discovered in Western Washington. The team assigned to stopping this virulent disease discovers not only was the plague deliberately introduced to the human population, but it may have been the government that began the tragedy.
Main Post
Day Four
“The final results are back." Jensen handed over thick printouts to Wentworth and Jared. "The rate of mutation is the same in all the samples: we're dealing with one unidentified filovirus."
“Well, I guess we can be grateful about something,” Jared said. "How are the patients doing?”
“Half are already on life support,” Wentworth grimly answered. “The brother, Hunter, began exhibiting erratic behavior three hours ago. And we're going to have to flush down the survival rate we'd calculated earlier. So far, this strain has killed everyone who has come into contact with it, even with the best medical care possible.”
“How’s the public handling this?” Jensen caught the surprised look on Jared's face but didn't react. Becoming so obsessed with their work, they had all but forgotten that the rest of the population was probably terrorized into cowering inside their homes.
“They weren't told it’s Ebola, just some virulent strain of the flu, like the Spanish Flu. Of course, that caused a panic of its own but still, it’s better than telling people there's an outbreak of hemorrhagic fever in their backyards,” Wentworth explained, exhaustion coloring his voice. They’ve worked through the evening and it was almost four in the morning.
"So it's not a microbreak anymore?" Jared chugged down the last dregs of his coffee. "When did that happen?"
"It graduated to an outbreak an hour ago." Wentworth saw Jared blink out and realized the danger they were all in. “We have to call it a night. We’re working on fumes, and if we have to go into a lab, we could very well kill ourselves.”
“Agreed,” Jensen said. “We’ll do the 2-1 shift. I'll take the beeper for…”
Morgan dashed into the trailer. “We’ve got some bad news from Germany,” he said and turned on a computer. The satellite feed and the screen came live, revealing an exhausted face.
“Hello, this is Doctor Werner from Charité, Berlin. We have nine confirmed cases of the hemorrhagic fever," the man explained in a ragged voice. "The Ministry of Health has assigned a special team to the hospital. They are running tests right now to find out what percentage of the staff have been infected. We didn’t know it was the fever, as we initially thought it was a flu due to the symptoms. It wasn’t until a medical student mentioned the C.D.C. report that we realized what we are fighting against.”
“Have you found out who spread the fever?" Wentworth asked.
“Fortunately, yes. We have traced the infection back to two doctors who happened to have flown out of SeaTac last week. I believe Patient Zero was in the airport also?”
“Yes, he was. Were you able to contain the outbreak?” Jared nudged Chad who started to update his laptop with the new information streaming in from Berlin.
“No, I’m afraid not. Both doctors have been exposed to quite a number of patients. One of them, Doctor Goldberg, is a pediatric surgeon. The other, Doctor Bernhardt, is a member of my surgical team. We've decided to quarantine all their patients, but a few have had day surgeries. One flew out of Frankfurt to Vienna. We’re trying to track her down now.”
“Has any crashed and bled out yet?” Jensen asked, hoping the strain in Berlin was working on the same timetable as the one in Bellevue. That meant there was no mutation and any anecdote they could come up with will also save the patients in Charité.
“None so far. We really had no idea it was hemorrhagic fever.”
“It’s not your fault, Doctor Werner,” Jared stated gently. “Marburg happened forty years ago. Nobody would think to look for something like that in the middle of Europe.”
The phone began ringing and Morgan answered it. “We’ve got another incoming call.”
“Doctor, please wait a moment; we have to open another line,” Wentworth said. “Where is it coming from?”
“Tokyo.”
The answer brought forth fearful looks from everyone in the room.
“Doctor Werner, this is Tokyo,” Wentworth introduced the newcomer.
“Doctor Yamamoto reporting from International Catholic Hospital. We have confirmed four cases of the hemorrhagic fever in University of Tokyo.”
“Contact point is SeaTac?” Jared asked.
“Yes, one student by the name of Akiko Oda had enrolled in a year abroad program with the University of Washington. She flew home for the holidays and during the break visited her friends in University of Tokyo. She infected her ex-roommate and two other students who are living with her. I would like to say they are the only ones, but they live in a dorm and have shared bathrooms and kitchen facilities. So, we are forced to conclude the fever is not contained.”
“What symptoms are they showing?”
“Flu-like mostly. But Miss Oda started coughing up blood four hours ago. Only then did I remember the memo that was circulated around the hospital earlier today. I put a rush on her lab work and it came out positive for Ebola. I do not understand, what is happening in the United States? My colleagues and I have been following the news closely and so far Ebola has not been mentioned. Was this done on purpose?”
“Yes.” Jared decided to take the bullet. “The C.D.C. doesn’t want to alarm the population and cause mass hysteria.”
“Have you lost your mind?!” Doctor Werner shouted. “That is ridiculous! Berlin is in a state of emergency! We already have military presence and all forms of transportation have either been banned or diverted from the city. And your government doesn’t want to scare people? If that's the case, it won't last long since the Ministry will make its public statement very soon. And unless your C.D.C. can stop them, I can assure you, the origin of this outbreak will be released to the press.”
“How much time do we have?” Wentworth asked, he was expecting this.
“Five hours maximum. They will definitely have enough evidence by the evening news.”
“Has the C.D.C. made any comments about reaching us? They must have realized global exposure was inevitable,” Dr. Yamamoto said.
Dr. Werner visibly calmed down as he asked, “And can someone please explain to me how Ebola could have originated in your country?”
“A lab here imported infected monkeys,” Jared answered.
“How many patients?” Dr. Werner asked.
“Thirteen by the last count. The latest one was reported in Boston. I think it’s safe to say it has reached the Net, at least here in the States.”
Jared’s answer sobered Dr. Werner. “So, it’s clear across your country now?”
“Yes, while Patient Zero was in the airport, he came into contact with people who were traveling domestically. By tomorrow night we calculate all fifty states will be on the highest alert.”
“Is there anything we can do?” Dr. Yamamoto offered. “To somehow help you find a cure for this? I know there is none as of yet, but if there ever was a time where we have to perform a miracle, it is now.”
“Elegantly said, Dr. Yamamoto,” Jared replied gratefully. “It would be great if you could forward us any information you managed to collect so far.”
“I don’t envy you your job,” Dr. Werner confessed. “But yes, the Ministry is preparing a press release even as we speak.”
“Thank you for the warning. You must excuse us now. We have to return to our work,” Wentworth said before giving a somber nod of dismissal.
“Good luck.” Dr. Yamamoto signed off followed quickly by Dr. Werner.
“So much for a grace period," Jensen said. "Over twenty patients in a single week."
“Exposure,” Jared said. “It’s all about exposure. The two surgeons probably ignored their symptoms and came to work until they collapsed.”
“This is what we’re going to do.” Wentworth turned off the computer and handed his beeper to Jensen. “We’ve gotten probably four hours of sleep the last two days. We cannot function properly on that, and we will become liabilities if we continue any further. Let the C.D.C. deal with the media. Mercifully, that's not in our job description.”
“And Ignatius? What will they do when they find out the Ministry is ready to start pointing fingers?" Jensen asked.
“Actually that might take the heat off of us,” Wentworth reasoned. “Ignatius might have to use up all their resources trying to disprove the C.D.C., and knowing C.D.C., they will have WHO behind them, or at least some other superpower to make their points stick.”
“Let’s hope it does work that way, because I really have no desire to go head to head with both the C.D.C. and Ignatius,” Jensen said, yawning. “Get some rest!”
He walked out of the trailer, not daring to look back. As he had the beepers Jensen would sleep in a separate room in order not to wake the other two. While he had the luxury of having a room all to himself, it was so small that only an army cot and a battered chair doubling as a night-table would fit.
Jensen took a quick shower and changed into a pair of comfortable sweats. Then he knelt beside his bed and began praying; something he hadn’t done since childhood. Afterwards he crawled into the narrow cot and pulled the blanket over his head, a childish habit that used to amuse and irritate Jared as he hated feeling confined.
The numbers will explode now. There is no hope of containment. None.
Wentworth took a long, hot shower; letting the water massage the stress of the days away. The obstacles that lay ahead of them were something none of them had faced before. He calculated the C.D.C. only had hours before it would be forced to come clean, and maybe two more days before Flatlands was put into effect across the States. An errant thought shocked him into a full state of awareness. Would WHO let him and Jensen leave? His experience with the organization told him they would not.
Everyone will depend on us finding a way to stop this … to find a cure. But what would happen if we can’t, or not in time? Berlin’s medical community was the first to get hit. They will be crippled the fastest, which means the worst medical case scenario would become a reality for the capital in matter of days unless massive numbers of volunteers go to their aid. But who would willingly go to certain death?
Jared made some hot tea first, and drank the concoction, trying to calm himself. The adrenaline in his system was still stirring his body and mind; a condition he was too well aware of. He dumped his clothes and his shoes into a bin that will be collected and burned with all their laundry and trash. Nothing they wore would survive the moment after it was shed from its owner. Wentworth was already deeply asleep on the upper bunk, forcing him to claim the bottom one.
Jared felt the tea seep into his bones and crawled underneath the blankets. He closed his eyes and dreamt of a field filled with ripened wheat and blushing green flowers.
Jensen woke to Morgan’s rough shaking of his shoulders.
“What?” he said groggily.
“I’ve been just told Ministry had a news conference thirty minutes ago. They identified U.S. as the source of the outbreak, and they also named Ignatius as the culprit. The shit has hit the fan.”
“Any statement from WHO?” Jensen asked as he scrambled into new clothes.
“Oh yeah, and guess whose side they decided to go with?”
“Something tells me Ignatius was reamed,” Jensen said as he threw on his jeans and flannel shirt.
“Very much so, and WHO promised to find the specific party responsible for the fever. Though I have no clue how they will live up to their promise since they have shit for jurisdiction over here.”
“That’s going to piss off the C.D.C., might push them shut down even more, making it look worse for us,” Jensen said. "Let me call them and you go wake Jared and Wentworth."
Jeff grimaced at the idea of waking up his boss.
“Anything else I need to know?” Jensen asked.
“Health Services wondering why I’m not back in Oxford yet."
Jensen's head snapped up as Wentworth entered the tiny room, crowding Jeff against the far wall. "I really have no idea why they keep bothering me to come back. It’s my job to prevent this from spreading any further, regardless where it’s taking place. Besides, they know I won’t bend to their hysteria.”
“English mentality,” Jensen said as he put on his shoes. He saw the cold glance Jeff aimed at Wentworth and wanted to get the two out of the blender of a room quickly.
The three men made their way to the front where they discovered Jared already awake and talking to Chad.
“We’ve got a problem," Jared informed his colleagues. "C.D.C. is videoconferencing us in five minutes.”
"Jesus Christ," Jensen muttered.
“Dare I ask what kind of problem?” Wentworth winced as he watched Jensen pour fresh coffee into a mug and start chugging it down like it was water.
“They didn’t specify, just that it started two hours ago, and it’s serious, very serious. Chad’s feeding the satellite links right now.”
“It can’t be Flatlands,” Jensen whispered, voicing all their fears. “It’s too early for our military to step in.”
“We can’t rule it out, not when everything’s been thrown against the wall," Wentworth said. "Jensen, grab whatever you got from yesterday. Jared, it's my turn to take the heat so let me talk.”
The three men scrambled to be in the conference room in less than five minutes.
Chad came into the tense meeting. “We’re ready to go live now.”
Jared nodded and said, "Do it."
The three men turned to the large television screen sitting on the corner and watched as Doctor Lee, Head of Pathogens, from the C.D.C. came on.
“Thank you for responding so promptly to our request," he said. "I regret not informing you of this sooner but my hands were tied."
“What happened?” Jared asked. “Did the U.N. decide to…”
“No,” Dr. Lee confessed. “It’s infinitely worse. I'm going to play a voice mail we received a little over two hours ago. It’ll explain the situation better than I can.”
“Good evening, gentlemen.” The sound was clear though the speaker's voice was greatly altered. “Please don’t attempt to track down this transmission. It would be a complete waste of your time and we all know how precious a commodity time has become for you. My colleagues and I know what is really happening in Washington. So, we will make this as brief as possible.
“As of fifteen minutes ago, the C.D.C. database has been crippled. There is no known cure for the virus we’ve inserted into the mainframe. We have done this with every major medical research data storage system across the globe including World Health Services and the one kept by the United States military in Maryland. Like the patients of the hemorrhagic fever, these gargantuan keepers of information are also ill, and unless you pay our ransom demand within twenty-four hours, they, like the victims of the hemorrhagic fever, will die and with them all the precious information Dr. Miller and his team need to perform their duties.
“This is not an empty threat, please do try to log in. You should also know the virus has a self-replicating code and will continue to erase data, which means once the information is erased, there is no chance of retrieval.
“Our demands are very simple, two billion dollars for us to insert a counteractive agent which will immediately stop and eradicate the virus. The earlier you get the money to us, the quicker we can erase the virus, and the better chance you’ll have of saving the citizens of your country. At the end of this message, you will receive an e-mail containing directions you need to follow in order to fulfill our demands. Let me reiterate, this is not a prank perpetrated by some disgruntled hackers or a group of terrorists looking to make a statement: this is purely business.
"Think about it: two billion dollars is such a small price to pay if you measure it against the lives of the future victims of the Ebola plague.”
The room was funereal as Lee came back on screen.
“Is this true?” Jared asked.
“Yes, we have confirmed that our central database is locked down. Nobody has been able to penetrate the shield system that was activated. They tried to shut down the whole thing…”
“But they can’t, can they?” Jensen opened his laptop and saw that he had been logged off. “Because Daedalus was created to survive nuclear wars. If someone tries to siphon off one power source, it’ll just find another. You can’t turn it off, you made sure no one could under any circumstances.”
“Are we really crippled across the globe?” Jared asked.
“Mostly. The private sectors' databases remain untouched.”
“But we don’t have the time,” Jensen realized. “There is no way we can network all of them and be able to work with the current deadline. Without the main sources of information, we’ll be lost as to whom to go for help. Even though we know it is hemorrhagic fever, we still need data, and lots of it in order to do anything.”
“What will the C.D.C. do?” Wentworth tried to pull up Daedalus on his laptop only to find he was incapable of even finding the log-in page.
“We’re not sure at this point," Dr. Lee admitted. "We have Cal Tech and MIT looking into this problem now.”
“Will the government pay the ransom if the other countries do agree to do so?”
Jared’s question raised all eyes to the screen.
“No, the President will not. His Cabinet has deemed this act as one of international terrorism. And that is the answer given by all involved,” Dr. Lee said. “No one is willing to pay.”
Seven Hours Later...
“They’ve declared Stage One of Flatlands for Berlin.”
Doctor Werner’s statement paralyzed everyone within hearing distance.
“What?” Jared said as he stumbled out of his stool. “How could they…”
“U.N., in conjunction with The Ministry of Health, agreed as of fifteen minutes ago to use military force. There are armed soldiers from the U.N. evacuating all the surrounding towns and quarantining their citizens in makeshift waiting facilities. We've shipped the latest samples to you through our air force. They should arrive in McChord in about five hours; use them as you see fit.”
“But why so soon?” Jensen was shocked by the swiftness of the German government to use a military response to a medical emergency.
“They’re setting up Berlin as an example,” Wentworth answered. “So, when the time comes for the same to happen to Paris or London, United Nations will have precedent for military intervention.
“How long do we have?”
“A week before United Nations demands a response from the United States,” Dr. Werner answered.
“Flatlands will come to pass in the States before that,” Jared said. “And when that happens, none of you will be allowed to leave. If you wish to go back to London, you must do so now.”
“This is Ground Zero,” Wentworth said. “And we are here for that reason. This is where it started, and in all likelihood the best place to find a cure. Remote research won’t do us any good in a scenario such as this.”
“Do or die, Jared. That was your motto, right?”
Jensen’s words made Jared remember the moment they faced that possibility together four years back, under Ethiopia's unforgiving sun.
Jared stared at his ex-lover and wondered once again why he became so terrified and did everything in his power to hurt a decent man, make him bleed and in the process destroy what they worked so hard to build.
Now, he might die right here, in front of you; bleed to death while that brilliant mind turns to jello as his brain liquefies under the virus’ assault. Your final, shitty gift to him.
Silence fell over the trailer as each became engrossed in what was laid out in front of them: life, death, everything save time.
Secret Service Headquarters
Washington, DC
Eric Kripke, the current brain trust of Secret Service’s ECTF, was seen racing down the hall. He stormed into his boss’ office and said,
“Pay the ransom.”
“What?” Shiban asked as Kripke collapsed into a chair.
“All we need is assurances of cooperation from the Caymans, the Saudis, the Chinese and Belgium. The Swiss won’t be a problem, I already asked a buddy who works over there.” Eric mopped up his sweaty face with the cuffs of his shirt. “Anyway, if we have the rest on-board then paying the ransom won’t matter.”
“What are you talking about?” Shiban handed over a cold can of soda and watched as Kripke chugged it down in one draw.
“Look, whatever bank they want the money to transfer to won’t have millions of dollars in their vaults. At most, it’d probably be five but not hundreds of millions. In order for the bastards to collect the ransom, they’re going to have that particular bank withdraw money from other monetary resources to match the electronic deposit. But, if these outside sources won’t cooperate, then the most they can withdraw is whatever the bank actually has in the vault.”
“I’m following you but I still don’t see why the President should change his mind.”
“Look, there are really only few countries on earth where someone can withdraw hundreds of millions of dollars, or even transfer that amount. And if those countries refuse service, which they can, actually, under certain laws, then the assholes are screwed.” Kripke narrowed his eyes as he made a mental calculation. “I’d say ten million at most.”
Shiban grinned wildly. “You’re basically cockblocking the bastards.”
Kripke paused for a moment before saying, “That sounds about right, actually.”
“Okay then. Straighten out your tie, we’re going to the White House.”
“What?” Eric asked in a thin voice.
“Wash your face, get some breath mints. We’re going to convince the President to do something he really, really doesn’t want to do.”
“But I don’t want to meet the President,” Kripke protested. “I’m a democrat.”
“I’m sure under the circumstances they won’t shoot you,” Shiban said dryly. “Now get your ass cleaned up and meet me back here in five.”
Kripke muttered to himself as he returned to his office. It was all true: no good deed goes unpunished, especially if you worked for the federal government.
Bellevue, Washington
Jared waited until he was sure Jensen was alone. He knew he had less than ten minutes since privacy was next to impossible working in such tight quarters, but even a minute spent alone with Jensen meant a minute less regretting his choices.
He gave Jensen a cup of coffee and poured a dash of brandy into it. Jensen shook his head in amusement. Jared knew Jensen humored his practice of lacing coffee with various alcohol whenever they were working in the field. Jared had explained that it was a good way to stave off infections. Jensen just rolled his eyes and gave a pained sigh before taking a healthy swig.
"Are you still a cheap date?" Jensen asked.
"For a Texan, definitely. Though in DC I might be considered moderate to expensive."
"You did well today," Jensen said, staring at Jared. "Considering everything. How's your mom and dad taking this?"
"My father died last year of cancer."
"I'm sorry, I didn't know," Jensen quickly apologized.
"Very few people did. Mom’s living in Denver now. I talked to her earlier today. She wants me to come home. I also told her you were here: she told me to bring you along."
Jensen laughed softly and dropped his head back. "Your mom is a real sweetheart."
"I told her that we were all okay but she's not buying it. So, if she calls you, just humor her and make the conversation brief. I don't know how she'll get your number, but she will, depend on it."
"How's Jeff doing?"
"Grinding the axe. I still can't believe he got involved with a married woman. I never thought he would be stupid enough to do that."
"I'm guessing he's going to have little problem getting over her."
"He won't. Jeff hates betrayal, and Dunrea's use of our personal history has him seeing red. Enough about me: how's England been treating you? I read your articles all the time, but I hardly hear anything about you, even from the most vicious gossip hens in our profession."
"I go to work, do my job, then come home and disappear. I've spent years learning to fly under their radar and I've gotten quite good at it."
"But that still doesn't explain your two-year absence from the field. You loved working outside the lab. It was something you were good at and I can't imagine why you gave that up."
"It wasn't a matter of choice really. There were personal reasons."
"Too personal to tell me?"
"Something like that."
"And that means Miller's involved."
"I don't want to talk about Wentworth with you, especially about this."
"I noticed you're on first-name basis with Miller. I'm surprised that didn't make a huge blip on the radar you're so good at avoiding."
"Now you're being jackass."
"That's what exes usually turn into, Jensen."
"I can't afford this, Jared. Not now."
"Yes, you can. I've been paying for it for years so you can afford it. Why Miller? You knew how I felt about him."
"Are you listening to a word I'm saying?"
"I am but it all sounds like bullshit to me."
"Jesus Christ, Jared. Seriously, is this the right time to talk about..."
"You owe me something, Jensen."
"Let's call it even then. You didn't tell me about Sandy or Katie or Phil, and I didn't tell you about Wentworth. Let's leave it at that."
"That was stupid on my part, but don't expect me to believe you were as foolish or spiteful enough to leave me for Wentworth in order to get back at me. You don't have that kind of venom in you, I know that already so what was it?"
"It's really Wentworth's story, not mine."
"No, it's also our story. Please, tell me so I can find some peace."
"I don't owe you anything," Jensen replied flatly.
"You owe me an ending, Jensen."
Jensen stared at the familiar hazel-green eyes and recognized a level of pain he never witnessed before. Jensen found himself talking even as his common sense and self-preservation screamed at him to walk away. "Wentworth was diagnosed with cancer. It was located on the right ocular nerve. Its placement and its rapid growth made any treatment besides surgery impossible, and surgery itself would have been risky at best. Very few people survive such a procedure, and they didn't think he would because of its size. After I left you I needed to find work, preferably as far from you as I could get. Wentworth had a position open: I applied for it and got it.
“The really embarrassing thing was he knew why I left you: he heard about your affairs. Jesus Christ, did I feel like an idiot for being the last to know. Anyway, when I interviewed for the position he was nothing but skin and bones. Couldn't eat much, couldn't walk in a straight line but that mind, that brilliant mind, was still going full blast while his body was falling apart. He asked me to take over when he couldn't function anymore. I accepted; it was simple as that. After I was comfortable taking the helm, he went to Boston and volunteered for a radical, experimental procedure. It worked. The surgeons were successful in removing the mass without permanently blinding him or turning him into a vegetable. The thing was the size of a peach pit; he has it in a jar in his office."
"Is it still in remission?"
Jensen nodded. "And the longer he's in remission, the better chance of the cancer never coming back."
"Are there any side effects of the operation itself?"
"Yes, there is. He has seizures sometimes, but then you must have guessed that. Otherwise you wouldn't have asked."
"Do you know how dangerous…"
"That is why I'm always in the iso-unit, why I handle the vials and the labwork. If you care to notice, Wentworth's never around the material himself: I am. I do the initial studies and he takes it from there. And the last seizure he had was over a year ago. The attacks aren't even grand mal, just dizziness and an inability to vocally communicate. But it's worrisome enough for him to keep himself away from certain duties."
"Why didn't you tell me this before, Jensen?" Jared asked as he stood up to leave.
"There was only so many things in my life I could handle. After I left you, things got too busy and you seemed to have bounced back quickly. So, I decided to let go and move on. I figured it was the best for everyone."
"You never returned my phone calls."
"What good would it have done? It was better for both of us if we had a clean break. That way we won't end up hating each other down the road."
Jared didn't add anything further to the conversation and left. Though he found the answer he was seeking for three years, the pain it brought made the triumph bittersweet at best. Jared wondered what surgical procedure Miller endured to try and gain some edge over death, and who performed the operation. He had many friends over at Mass E. E. & T and none of them ever told him the internationally respected researcher was a patient in their hospital.
Day Five - Part I
Alice finally turned off her computer, satisfied with her last act of revenge. It didn’t take long for Adams to turn tail and run. She was surprised he lasted this long. However, she was disappointed that the rest of the Board folded so quickly as her boss did. Alice expected them to put up a fight, at least long enough to take the whole matter into a civil trial if only to protect Ignatius’ reputation. Instead, they turned her into a scapegoat and buried their collective heads, hoping the problem would go away somehow, like magic. All those hard choices … all those ungodly hours at work … for these ungrateful bastards.
Alice went to work at seven in the morning, as usual, only to find her ID card no longer gave her access to the building beyond the lobby. The security managed to boot her out quietly and with dignity, but she knew the Board had more in store for her if Ignatius’ situation worsened. She couldn’t figure out why they cut her off. Without her, they were incapable of making the hard decisions; she remembered the terrified looks on their faces when she confronted them about the hellhole that was Coughlin's lab. How they scurried to her for help when none of them knew what to do next.
Alice smiled bitterly; they would learn from their mistake soon enough. It wouldn’t be long after that realization for them to crawl back to her. However, by then, Alice knew it would be too late for everyone, including herself. She strolled out to the veranda and made herself comfortable in a chaise lounge. She then examined the beautifully-lit mansions scattered around Lake Washington. It was almost two in the morning but Alice couldn’t sleep, and had no desire to. With a crooked smile she saluted the night, silently giving her last fuck-you to the world. And yet, in spite of her anger, she did feel a twinge of remorse for her husband.
Alice always chose her career above all else. She knew this attitude infuriated a lot of people, including Mark who simultaneously adored and feared her. She had once described him to her college roommate as a stepping-stone to a higher ground as his name, his family, and his money gave her the means to get what she wanted. What she didn't plan on when she decided to marry Mark was how long it would take to get rid of him once she was done with him. And to be honest with herself, Alice became comfortable with Mark. She had numerous affairs, but as long as they remained discreet, Mark didn’t mind. He loved her so much, he was willing to put up with anything so long as she came to his bed at the end of the day.
Then Jeff came, with his good looks, his ambition and his unfulfilled desires. Alice wanted him more than any man she’s ever met and soon, like most men who came into contact with her sexual being, Jeff also fell into her world. Their affair developed into something Alice never dreamt of so it didn’t take long for Mark to realize her latest fling, whoever he was, was slowly but inexorably stealing away his wife. Alice knew of his fears, but she didn’t care about what he felt, and hoped Mark would soon realize this was one affair he wouldn’t be able to wait out.
Alice wondered if she should leave a note of explanation for Mark. Why not? He deserved at least a token of affection for his years of faithfulness. She scribbled down a brief if also sweet farewell and tucked it into her robe’s pocket.
She didn’t know where to purchase a gun, she wouldn’t have a clue on how to use one either. Mark hated firearms so the house was bereft of any. However, because of her medical license, Alice did have access to a reasonable substitute. Two hours ago, her nose began bleeding, and it was still trickling even as she tied a rubber tube around her upper arm. With cautious fingers, Alice touched the rising vein, and noted its firmness.
Alice was all too familiar with the effects of hemorrhagic fever on the human body and she had no desire to suffer through it. The syringe plunged through the skin, releasing the lethal cocktail into her blood. As she lay dying, Alice dreamt of a life that could have been.
The sun rose on a city imprisoned by fear. Most of the citizens had heard of what happened in Berlin and were terrified that the medical team established in Overlake Hospital would abandon them. Ordered by the C.D.C., Dr. Lee and his team released a statement early enough to make the morning news. They made it very clear they weren't going anywhere and were trenched in Bellevue for the long run. Wentworth remained wisely in the background as a reassuring figure, grateful that he would not be forced to address the press.
“We’ve got serious trouble,” Schillings, Head of Security, informed Benjamin Adams. “Dunrea committed suicide earlier this morning. She left a note for her husband, but I’ve been unable to read it. The man’s locked himself up in his house and refuses to see anyone.”
“Dear God, I was afraid she might do something like this,” Adams said in awe and sadness.
“And there’s even worse news.”
“What?”
“She was able to hack into her work computer. We have no idea if she downloaded anything. Actually, we have no fucking clue what she’s done last night,” Schillings admitted in defeat.
“I told you we should not have cut her loose,” Adams snarled. “She was a smart and ambitious woman: not the type to take her dismissal lightly, especially under these particular circumstances.”
“Do you think she might have given them to Jeff Padalecki or his brother?”
“Perhaps, I wouldn’t want to second-guess Alice's motives. Is there any way we can tap into that damn trailer?”
“No, or at least not yet,” Schillings answered, his frustration plain in his voice and face. “They’ve got round the clock police protection, and their system is heavily encrypted. Our engineers haven’t been able to break into their mainframe yet. Hell, they don’t even know where the servers are located.”
“Then I suggest we find comfort in prayer,” Adams stated flatly. “For that is the only recourse we have.”
Neither man knew Dunrea was infected. Mark, shocked to find his wife dead in their parlor, called the ambulance and the authorities in an incoherent state. He was so traumatized by discovering Alice’s body, he was unable to answer any questions properly. In the end, the emergency personnel ruled her death as suicide pending further investigation. So, her body was transported through the usual channels with no further precautions taken in handling the corpse.
“Find anything yet?” Jensen asked from his stack of boxes. The three doctors and their assistants were now combing over the information Ignatius released, frantically looking for many data that might shed light on Coughlin and Jorgensen's research. Unfortunately they had too much information - a situation as lethal as if they had too little to work with.
“No,” Wentworth replied, flipping through a mountain of manila folders piled to his right. "So far, all I've discovered is their flair for lying on their budget reports."
“Nothing from this corner either,” Jared said then paused as he noticed a group photograph. "“I think I found something.”
Jensen took the picture and stared at the people dressed in lab whites.
“Recognize this guy?” Jared pointed to a man standing next to Coughlin.
“Vaguely, isn’t he dead?” Jensen said as he examined the moon-faced stranger.
“His name was Michael Sanders, a British born, but lived in France.” Wentworth recognized the round face with a hazy, benign gaze. “He was brought up on charges of unethical medical research and directly contributing information on what was suspected to be genocidal bio-warfare study by an unknown party or parties. He was stripped of his license and removed from the University before being brought up on charges. You’re right, he died of a heart attack while waiting for trial. I think there were three others who were also arrested along with him, and they were all found guilty and currently serving prison sentences.”
“When did this happen?” Jensen asked.
“Over a decade ago, sometime in the late 80’s,” Jared remembered with distaste. “It was a huge scandal because one of the accused was an American. He actually belonged to a medical team nominated for the Nobel Prize. But when this hit the fan, everything went to hell pretty damn fast. The second doctor was from Austria, and the third, a geneticist named Paulette Gambon, was working in France when she was arrested.”
“Can we find out for whom they worked for publicly?” Jensen asked as he flipped through the folders, trying to see if there were any more revealing pictures.
“Shouldn’t be a problem. I just have make some calls," Jared said.
Joshua Schillings knew what he had was fatal. He hadn't been feeling well for days, but thought it was because of the enormous stress he was laboring under. Now, with the bleeding, he knew what he had was no ordinary illness. He wiped the fresh trickling blood away from his nose and stared at his wife, still asleep in their marital bed of thirty-four years. Susanne was never a morning person and usually didn’t get out of bed until ten. He wondered how long his beloved had before falling victim herself. Thank God he didn’t allow his children to visit them last week. Schillings had no idea how long he’s been infected, only that now it was too late for him and his wife, unless … unless Jared and his team was able to find a cure soon.
Jeff received the news of Alice’s suicide from a mutual friend. The woman didn’t know the two had broken up and called to see how he was coping with his lover’s death. Jeff made the conversation brief; his abhorrence for Dunrea killed his love, but her death still shocked him. Jeff doubted that Ignatius could drive her to do something so drastic, so that meant there was another, more intimate reason as to why she deliberately overdosed on morphine.
“Oh Christ."
Jeff almost made it out the door before stopping himself. If Alice was infected, it stood to reason he was, also. Yet, his fear egged him to rejoin Jared and the rest of his team. However, the brother in him forced Jeff to call instead.
Jared answered on the second ring. “What's up?”
“I’ve got some bad news. Alice committed suicide.”
“What? Do you know why?”
“I was told Ignatius put her on leave, but I think there was a more personal reason.”
Jeff heard his brother take a deep breath before asking, “You think she was infected?”
“I can’t see any other reason for her to do what she did. I think you should send someone over to her place. Alice must have had some backup plan to protect herself. Be careful, last I heard her husband’s still in the house, and there’s a good chance he’s a carrier too.”
“I hope to God you’re wrong, Jeff.”
“You hope, I’m praying on my knees. Good luck, Jared.”
The younger brother hung up the phone and turned to deal with a room filled with worried faces.
“That was Jeff. Alice Dunrea committed suicide this morning. He believes she did it because she was infected.”
“What do you want us to do?” Jensen asked.
“Get a car prepped and call up a police escort. We need to get to her place now. She might have left something behind, something that could help us.”
They were accompanied by three police cars as they threaded their way through the deserted streets of Bellevue. The gates leading to Dunrea's waterfront mansion were unlocked, but nobody met them as they pulled in front of the house. Jared and Jensen quickly slipped into their bio-suits while the police spanned out to cordon off the entire property. Wentworth stayed in the car, planning to relay any information the other two gathered to Chad and the C.D.C..
They couldn't find the husband so the police put an APB out on Mark Dunrea, though they knew he couldn't have gone far as the cars were still sitting in the garage.
Jared quickly found Alice's home office. Her laptop was still on, nearly buried by mounds of discs scattered about. He handed the whole collection over to Jensen who systematically downloaded the data.
“Any luck?” Jared asked.
“Too early to tell,” Jensen answered.
Jared continued to study Dunrea's internet usage and found the last download.
“Is there a disc entitled Red?” he asked.
Jensen flipped through the remaining discs but didn't find anything with that particular title. "No, why?"
“She downloaded something late last night from Ignatius.”
Jared kneeled down and began hunting around the desk. He didn’t find the disc so they started searching the entire second floor. Jensen flipped the master bathroom and discovered Dunrea’s jewelry box. He searched through it and found a memory stick hidden underneath the first tray containing rings.
“I think we have it!" Jensen plugged it into his laptop, grateful to find it wasn’t password protected.
“What is it?” Jared asked.
“Gene sequences … of what I can’t tell at this stage. There are other documents and data files stored in it. We need to get it back to the lab.”
The two men were slowly making their way to the rest of the house, and were nearly done with the first floor when they stumbled over the chaos in the kitchen.
The sumptuous room was strewn with papers, covering the counter and the floor.
Jensen picked up few of the papers and read them. "Bills ... credit card receipts..."
“Whose?” Jared asked. He then grabbed a few when Jensen didn't answer quickly enough. “Oh shit.”
“What? What’s wrong?”
“Her husband, he was looking for information on Dunrea’s lover. I think he found what he was looking for.” Jared recognized the one set of telephone numbers that came up frequently on Alice's wireless bill. “We need to get Jeff into protective custody now.”
“I’ll talk to the police," Wentworth said before getting off the line.
Jared was the first to go through the makeshift decon chamber they had set up earlier. He found Wentworth waiting for him.
“The police are on their way.”
Jeff heard the knock on the door but hesitated from answering.
“It’s the police, Doctor Padalecki. Your brother sent for you. He believes you're in physical danger because of Mr. Dunrea.”
Jeff moaned out loud and stood in front of the door, refusing to open it.
“Look, I can't go with you but I'll follow you in my car.”
The two young officers agreed even though Jeff could hear confusion in their voices. He heard them open the door to the stairwell before he himself left his apartment. The day was beautiful, but unreal as the city was quiet. There was no traffic, no human beings walking outside to enjoy the gorgeous weather. Jeff wondered if he would see such a fine day again as he got into his BMW.
The police was parked right across the street from the garage entrance. The two cars were approaching the end of the block when a black SUV swerved from around the left corner and rammed the BMW. The front of Jeff's car crumpled on impact as its engine ricocheted into the cockpit, crushing Jeff's ribs before pinning him to his seat.
Mr. Dunrea, the driver of the Ford Escalade, wasn't wearing a seatbelt. He was declared DOA by the emergency staff in Overlake.
Part II * Part IV
Pairing: JA/JP, JP/OC
Rating: R for violence and language.
Warning: AU
Disclaimer: Complete fiction, and I'm hoping it stays that way.
Summary: The hemorrhagic fever has been discovered in Western Washington. The team assigned to stopping this virulent disease discovers not only was the plague deliberately introduced to the human population, but it may have been the government that began the tragedy.
Main Post
Day Four
“The final results are back." Jensen handed over thick printouts to Wentworth and Jared. "The rate of mutation is the same in all the samples: we're dealing with one unidentified filovirus."
“Well, I guess we can be grateful about something,” Jared said. "How are the patients doing?”
“Half are already on life support,” Wentworth grimly answered. “The brother, Hunter, began exhibiting erratic behavior three hours ago. And we're going to have to flush down the survival rate we'd calculated earlier. So far, this strain has killed everyone who has come into contact with it, even with the best medical care possible.”
“How’s the public handling this?” Jensen caught the surprised look on Jared's face but didn't react. Becoming so obsessed with their work, they had all but forgotten that the rest of the population was probably terrorized into cowering inside their homes.
“They weren't told it’s Ebola, just some virulent strain of the flu, like the Spanish Flu. Of course, that caused a panic of its own but still, it’s better than telling people there's an outbreak of hemorrhagic fever in their backyards,” Wentworth explained, exhaustion coloring his voice. They’ve worked through the evening and it was almost four in the morning.
"So it's not a microbreak anymore?" Jared chugged down the last dregs of his coffee. "When did that happen?"
"It graduated to an outbreak an hour ago." Wentworth saw Jared blink out and realized the danger they were all in. “We have to call it a night. We’re working on fumes, and if we have to go into a lab, we could very well kill ourselves.”
“Agreed,” Jensen said. “We’ll do the 2-1 shift. I'll take the beeper for…”
Morgan dashed into the trailer. “We’ve got some bad news from Germany,” he said and turned on a computer. The satellite feed and the screen came live, revealing an exhausted face.
“Hello, this is Doctor Werner from Charité, Berlin. We have nine confirmed cases of the hemorrhagic fever," the man explained in a ragged voice. "The Ministry of Health has assigned a special team to the hospital. They are running tests right now to find out what percentage of the staff have been infected. We didn’t know it was the fever, as we initially thought it was a flu due to the symptoms. It wasn’t until a medical student mentioned the C.D.C. report that we realized what we are fighting against.”
“Have you found out who spread the fever?" Wentworth asked.
“Fortunately, yes. We have traced the infection back to two doctors who happened to have flown out of SeaTac last week. I believe Patient Zero was in the airport also?”
“Yes, he was. Were you able to contain the outbreak?” Jared nudged Chad who started to update his laptop with the new information streaming in from Berlin.
“No, I’m afraid not. Both doctors have been exposed to quite a number of patients. One of them, Doctor Goldberg, is a pediatric surgeon. The other, Doctor Bernhardt, is a member of my surgical team. We've decided to quarantine all their patients, but a few have had day surgeries. One flew out of Frankfurt to Vienna. We’re trying to track her down now.”
“Has any crashed and bled out yet?” Jensen asked, hoping the strain in Berlin was working on the same timetable as the one in Bellevue. That meant there was no mutation and any anecdote they could come up with will also save the patients in Charité.
“None so far. We really had no idea it was hemorrhagic fever.”
“It’s not your fault, Doctor Werner,” Jared stated gently. “Marburg happened forty years ago. Nobody would think to look for something like that in the middle of Europe.”
The phone began ringing and Morgan answered it. “We’ve got another incoming call.”
“Doctor, please wait a moment; we have to open another line,” Wentworth said. “Where is it coming from?”
“Tokyo.”
The answer brought forth fearful looks from everyone in the room.
“Doctor Werner, this is Tokyo,” Wentworth introduced the newcomer.
“Doctor Yamamoto reporting from International Catholic Hospital. We have confirmed four cases of the hemorrhagic fever in University of Tokyo.”
“Contact point is SeaTac?” Jared asked.
“Yes, one student by the name of Akiko Oda had enrolled in a year abroad program with the University of Washington. She flew home for the holidays and during the break visited her friends in University of Tokyo. She infected her ex-roommate and two other students who are living with her. I would like to say they are the only ones, but they live in a dorm and have shared bathrooms and kitchen facilities. So, we are forced to conclude the fever is not contained.”
“What symptoms are they showing?”
“Flu-like mostly. But Miss Oda started coughing up blood four hours ago. Only then did I remember the memo that was circulated around the hospital earlier today. I put a rush on her lab work and it came out positive for Ebola. I do not understand, what is happening in the United States? My colleagues and I have been following the news closely and so far Ebola has not been mentioned. Was this done on purpose?”
“Yes.” Jared decided to take the bullet. “The C.D.C. doesn’t want to alarm the population and cause mass hysteria.”
“Have you lost your mind?!” Doctor Werner shouted. “That is ridiculous! Berlin is in a state of emergency! We already have military presence and all forms of transportation have either been banned or diverted from the city. And your government doesn’t want to scare people? If that's the case, it won't last long since the Ministry will make its public statement very soon. And unless your C.D.C. can stop them, I can assure you, the origin of this outbreak will be released to the press.”
“How much time do we have?” Wentworth asked, he was expecting this.
“Five hours maximum. They will definitely have enough evidence by the evening news.”
“Has the C.D.C. made any comments about reaching us? They must have realized global exposure was inevitable,” Dr. Yamamoto said.
Dr. Werner visibly calmed down as he asked, “And can someone please explain to me how Ebola could have originated in your country?”
“A lab here imported infected monkeys,” Jared answered.
“How many patients?” Dr. Werner asked.
“Thirteen by the last count. The latest one was reported in Boston. I think it’s safe to say it has reached the Net, at least here in the States.”
Jared’s answer sobered Dr. Werner. “So, it’s clear across your country now?”
“Yes, while Patient Zero was in the airport, he came into contact with people who were traveling domestically. By tomorrow night we calculate all fifty states will be on the highest alert.”
“Is there anything we can do?” Dr. Yamamoto offered. “To somehow help you find a cure for this? I know there is none as of yet, but if there ever was a time where we have to perform a miracle, it is now.”
“Elegantly said, Dr. Yamamoto,” Jared replied gratefully. “It would be great if you could forward us any information you managed to collect so far.”
“I don’t envy you your job,” Dr. Werner confessed. “But yes, the Ministry is preparing a press release even as we speak.”
“Thank you for the warning. You must excuse us now. We have to return to our work,” Wentworth said before giving a somber nod of dismissal.
“Good luck.” Dr. Yamamoto signed off followed quickly by Dr. Werner.
“So much for a grace period," Jensen said. "Over twenty patients in a single week."
“Exposure,” Jared said. “It’s all about exposure. The two surgeons probably ignored their symptoms and came to work until they collapsed.”
“This is what we’re going to do.” Wentworth turned off the computer and handed his beeper to Jensen. “We’ve gotten probably four hours of sleep the last two days. We cannot function properly on that, and we will become liabilities if we continue any further. Let the C.D.C. deal with the media. Mercifully, that's not in our job description.”
“And Ignatius? What will they do when they find out the Ministry is ready to start pointing fingers?" Jensen asked.
“Actually that might take the heat off of us,” Wentworth reasoned. “Ignatius might have to use up all their resources trying to disprove the C.D.C., and knowing C.D.C., they will have WHO behind them, or at least some other superpower to make their points stick.”
“Let’s hope it does work that way, because I really have no desire to go head to head with both the C.D.C. and Ignatius,” Jensen said, yawning. “Get some rest!”
He walked out of the trailer, not daring to look back. As he had the beepers Jensen would sleep in a separate room in order not to wake the other two. While he had the luxury of having a room all to himself, it was so small that only an army cot and a battered chair doubling as a night-table would fit.
Jensen took a quick shower and changed into a pair of comfortable sweats. Then he knelt beside his bed and began praying; something he hadn’t done since childhood. Afterwards he crawled into the narrow cot and pulled the blanket over his head, a childish habit that used to amuse and irritate Jared as he hated feeling confined.
The numbers will explode now. There is no hope of containment. None.
Wentworth took a long, hot shower; letting the water massage the stress of the days away. The obstacles that lay ahead of them were something none of them had faced before. He calculated the C.D.C. only had hours before it would be forced to come clean, and maybe two more days before Flatlands was put into effect across the States. An errant thought shocked him into a full state of awareness. Would WHO let him and Jensen leave? His experience with the organization told him they would not.
Everyone will depend on us finding a way to stop this … to find a cure. But what would happen if we can’t, or not in time? Berlin’s medical community was the first to get hit. They will be crippled the fastest, which means the worst medical case scenario would become a reality for the capital in matter of days unless massive numbers of volunteers go to their aid. But who would willingly go to certain death?
Jared made some hot tea first, and drank the concoction, trying to calm himself. The adrenaline in his system was still stirring his body and mind; a condition he was too well aware of. He dumped his clothes and his shoes into a bin that will be collected and burned with all their laundry and trash. Nothing they wore would survive the moment after it was shed from its owner. Wentworth was already deeply asleep on the upper bunk, forcing him to claim the bottom one.
Jared felt the tea seep into his bones and crawled underneath the blankets. He closed his eyes and dreamt of a field filled with ripened wheat and blushing green flowers.
Jensen woke to Morgan’s rough shaking of his shoulders.
“What?” he said groggily.
“I’ve been just told Ministry had a news conference thirty minutes ago. They identified U.S. as the source of the outbreak, and they also named Ignatius as the culprit. The shit has hit the fan.”
“Any statement from WHO?” Jensen asked as he scrambled into new clothes.
“Oh yeah, and guess whose side they decided to go with?”
“Something tells me Ignatius was reamed,” Jensen said as he threw on his jeans and flannel shirt.
“Very much so, and WHO promised to find the specific party responsible for the fever. Though I have no clue how they will live up to their promise since they have shit for jurisdiction over here.”
“That’s going to piss off the C.D.C., might push them shut down even more, making it look worse for us,” Jensen said. "Let me call them and you go wake Jared and Wentworth."
Jeff grimaced at the idea of waking up his boss.
“Anything else I need to know?” Jensen asked.
“Health Services wondering why I’m not back in Oxford yet."
Jensen's head snapped up as Wentworth entered the tiny room, crowding Jeff against the far wall. "I really have no idea why they keep bothering me to come back. It’s my job to prevent this from spreading any further, regardless where it’s taking place. Besides, they know I won’t bend to their hysteria.”
“English mentality,” Jensen said as he put on his shoes. He saw the cold glance Jeff aimed at Wentworth and wanted to get the two out of the blender of a room quickly.
The three men made their way to the front where they discovered Jared already awake and talking to Chad.
“We’ve got a problem," Jared informed his colleagues. "C.D.C. is videoconferencing us in five minutes.”
"Jesus Christ," Jensen muttered.
“Dare I ask what kind of problem?” Wentworth winced as he watched Jensen pour fresh coffee into a mug and start chugging it down like it was water.
“They didn’t specify, just that it started two hours ago, and it’s serious, very serious. Chad’s feeding the satellite links right now.”
“It can’t be Flatlands,” Jensen whispered, voicing all their fears. “It’s too early for our military to step in.”
“We can’t rule it out, not when everything’s been thrown against the wall," Wentworth said. "Jensen, grab whatever you got from yesterday. Jared, it's my turn to take the heat so let me talk.”
The three men scrambled to be in the conference room in less than five minutes.
Chad came into the tense meeting. “We’re ready to go live now.”
Jared nodded and said, "Do it."
The three men turned to the large television screen sitting on the corner and watched as Doctor Lee, Head of Pathogens, from the C.D.C. came on.
“Thank you for responding so promptly to our request," he said. "I regret not informing you of this sooner but my hands were tied."
“What happened?” Jared asked. “Did the U.N. decide to…”
“No,” Dr. Lee confessed. “It’s infinitely worse. I'm going to play a voice mail we received a little over two hours ago. It’ll explain the situation better than I can.”
“Good evening, gentlemen.” The sound was clear though the speaker's voice was greatly altered. “Please don’t attempt to track down this transmission. It would be a complete waste of your time and we all know how precious a commodity time has become for you. My colleagues and I know what is really happening in Washington. So, we will make this as brief as possible.
“As of fifteen minutes ago, the C.D.C. database has been crippled. There is no known cure for the virus we’ve inserted into the mainframe. We have done this with every major medical research data storage system across the globe including World Health Services and the one kept by the United States military in Maryland. Like the patients of the hemorrhagic fever, these gargantuan keepers of information are also ill, and unless you pay our ransom demand within twenty-four hours, they, like the victims of the hemorrhagic fever, will die and with them all the precious information Dr. Miller and his team need to perform their duties.
“This is not an empty threat, please do try to log in. You should also know the virus has a self-replicating code and will continue to erase data, which means once the information is erased, there is no chance of retrieval.
“Our demands are very simple, two billion dollars for us to insert a counteractive agent which will immediately stop and eradicate the virus. The earlier you get the money to us, the quicker we can erase the virus, and the better chance you’ll have of saving the citizens of your country. At the end of this message, you will receive an e-mail containing directions you need to follow in order to fulfill our demands. Let me reiterate, this is not a prank perpetrated by some disgruntled hackers or a group of terrorists looking to make a statement: this is purely business.
"Think about it: two billion dollars is such a small price to pay if you measure it against the lives of the future victims of the Ebola plague.”
The room was funereal as Lee came back on screen.
“Is this true?” Jared asked.
“Yes, we have confirmed that our central database is locked down. Nobody has been able to penetrate the shield system that was activated. They tried to shut down the whole thing…”
“But they can’t, can they?” Jensen opened his laptop and saw that he had been logged off. “Because Daedalus was created to survive nuclear wars. If someone tries to siphon off one power source, it’ll just find another. You can’t turn it off, you made sure no one could under any circumstances.”
“Are we really crippled across the globe?” Jared asked.
“Mostly. The private sectors' databases remain untouched.”
“But we don’t have the time,” Jensen realized. “There is no way we can network all of them and be able to work with the current deadline. Without the main sources of information, we’ll be lost as to whom to go for help. Even though we know it is hemorrhagic fever, we still need data, and lots of it in order to do anything.”
“What will the C.D.C. do?” Wentworth tried to pull up Daedalus on his laptop only to find he was incapable of even finding the log-in page.
“We’re not sure at this point," Dr. Lee admitted. "We have Cal Tech and MIT looking into this problem now.”
“Will the government pay the ransom if the other countries do agree to do so?”
Jared’s question raised all eyes to the screen.
“No, the President will not. His Cabinet has deemed this act as one of international terrorism. And that is the answer given by all involved,” Dr. Lee said. “No one is willing to pay.”
Seven Hours Later...
“They’ve declared Stage One of Flatlands for Berlin.”
Doctor Werner’s statement paralyzed everyone within hearing distance.
“What?” Jared said as he stumbled out of his stool. “How could they…”
“U.N., in conjunction with The Ministry of Health, agreed as of fifteen minutes ago to use military force. There are armed soldiers from the U.N. evacuating all the surrounding towns and quarantining their citizens in makeshift waiting facilities. We've shipped the latest samples to you through our air force. They should arrive in McChord in about five hours; use them as you see fit.”
“But why so soon?” Jensen was shocked by the swiftness of the German government to use a military response to a medical emergency.
“They’re setting up Berlin as an example,” Wentworth answered. “So, when the time comes for the same to happen to Paris or London, United Nations will have precedent for military intervention.
“How long do we have?”
“A week before United Nations demands a response from the United States,” Dr. Werner answered.
“Flatlands will come to pass in the States before that,” Jared said. “And when that happens, none of you will be allowed to leave. If you wish to go back to London, you must do so now.”
“This is Ground Zero,” Wentworth said. “And we are here for that reason. This is where it started, and in all likelihood the best place to find a cure. Remote research won’t do us any good in a scenario such as this.”
“Do or die, Jared. That was your motto, right?”
Jensen’s words made Jared remember the moment they faced that possibility together four years back, under Ethiopia's unforgiving sun.
Jared stared at his ex-lover and wondered once again why he became so terrified and did everything in his power to hurt a decent man, make him bleed and in the process destroy what they worked so hard to build.
Now, he might die right here, in front of you; bleed to death while that brilliant mind turns to jello as his brain liquefies under the virus’ assault. Your final, shitty gift to him.
Silence fell over the trailer as each became engrossed in what was laid out in front of them: life, death, everything save time.
Secret Service Headquarters
Washington, DC
Eric Kripke, the current brain trust of Secret Service’s ECTF, was seen racing down the hall. He stormed into his boss’ office and said,
“Pay the ransom.”
“What?” Shiban asked as Kripke collapsed into a chair.
“All we need is assurances of cooperation from the Caymans, the Saudis, the Chinese and Belgium. The Swiss won’t be a problem, I already asked a buddy who works over there.” Eric mopped up his sweaty face with the cuffs of his shirt. “Anyway, if we have the rest on-board then paying the ransom won’t matter.”
“What are you talking about?” Shiban handed over a cold can of soda and watched as Kripke chugged it down in one draw.
“Look, whatever bank they want the money to transfer to won’t have millions of dollars in their vaults. At most, it’d probably be five but not hundreds of millions. In order for the bastards to collect the ransom, they’re going to have that particular bank withdraw money from other monetary resources to match the electronic deposit. But, if these outside sources won’t cooperate, then the most they can withdraw is whatever the bank actually has in the vault.”
“I’m following you but I still don’t see why the President should change his mind.”
“Look, there are really only few countries on earth where someone can withdraw hundreds of millions of dollars, or even transfer that amount. And if those countries refuse service, which they can, actually, under certain laws, then the assholes are screwed.” Kripke narrowed his eyes as he made a mental calculation. “I’d say ten million at most.”
Shiban grinned wildly. “You’re basically cockblocking the bastards.”
Kripke paused for a moment before saying, “That sounds about right, actually.”
“Okay then. Straighten out your tie, we’re going to the White House.”
“What?” Eric asked in a thin voice.
“Wash your face, get some breath mints. We’re going to convince the President to do something he really, really doesn’t want to do.”
“But I don’t want to meet the President,” Kripke protested. “I’m a democrat.”
“I’m sure under the circumstances they won’t shoot you,” Shiban said dryly. “Now get your ass cleaned up and meet me back here in five.”
Kripke muttered to himself as he returned to his office. It was all true: no good deed goes unpunished, especially if you worked for the federal government.
Bellevue, Washington
Jared waited until he was sure Jensen was alone. He knew he had less than ten minutes since privacy was next to impossible working in such tight quarters, but even a minute spent alone with Jensen meant a minute less regretting his choices.
He gave Jensen a cup of coffee and poured a dash of brandy into it. Jensen shook his head in amusement. Jared knew Jensen humored his practice of lacing coffee with various alcohol whenever they were working in the field. Jared had explained that it was a good way to stave off infections. Jensen just rolled his eyes and gave a pained sigh before taking a healthy swig.
"Are you still a cheap date?" Jensen asked.
"For a Texan, definitely. Though in DC I might be considered moderate to expensive."
"You did well today," Jensen said, staring at Jared. "Considering everything. How's your mom and dad taking this?"
"My father died last year of cancer."
"I'm sorry, I didn't know," Jensen quickly apologized.
"Very few people did. Mom’s living in Denver now. I talked to her earlier today. She wants me to come home. I also told her you were here: she told me to bring you along."
Jensen laughed softly and dropped his head back. "Your mom is a real sweetheart."
"I told her that we were all okay but she's not buying it. So, if she calls you, just humor her and make the conversation brief. I don't know how she'll get your number, but she will, depend on it."
"How's Jeff doing?"
"Grinding the axe. I still can't believe he got involved with a married woman. I never thought he would be stupid enough to do that."
"I'm guessing he's going to have little problem getting over her."
"He won't. Jeff hates betrayal, and Dunrea's use of our personal history has him seeing red. Enough about me: how's England been treating you? I read your articles all the time, but I hardly hear anything about you, even from the most vicious gossip hens in our profession."
"I go to work, do my job, then come home and disappear. I've spent years learning to fly under their radar and I've gotten quite good at it."
"But that still doesn't explain your two-year absence from the field. You loved working outside the lab. It was something you were good at and I can't imagine why you gave that up."
"It wasn't a matter of choice really. There were personal reasons."
"Too personal to tell me?"
"Something like that."
"And that means Miller's involved."
"I don't want to talk about Wentworth with you, especially about this."
"I noticed you're on first-name basis with Miller. I'm surprised that didn't make a huge blip on the radar you're so good at avoiding."
"Now you're being jackass."
"That's what exes usually turn into, Jensen."
"I can't afford this, Jared. Not now."
"Yes, you can. I've been paying for it for years so you can afford it. Why Miller? You knew how I felt about him."
"Are you listening to a word I'm saying?"
"I am but it all sounds like bullshit to me."
"Jesus Christ, Jared. Seriously, is this the right time to talk about..."
"You owe me something, Jensen."
"Let's call it even then. You didn't tell me about Sandy or Katie or Phil, and I didn't tell you about Wentworth. Let's leave it at that."
"That was stupid on my part, but don't expect me to believe you were as foolish or spiteful enough to leave me for Wentworth in order to get back at me. You don't have that kind of venom in you, I know that already so what was it?"
"It's really Wentworth's story, not mine."
"No, it's also our story. Please, tell me so I can find some peace."
"I don't owe you anything," Jensen replied flatly.
"You owe me an ending, Jensen."
Jensen stared at the familiar hazel-green eyes and recognized a level of pain he never witnessed before. Jensen found himself talking even as his common sense and self-preservation screamed at him to walk away. "Wentworth was diagnosed with cancer. It was located on the right ocular nerve. Its placement and its rapid growth made any treatment besides surgery impossible, and surgery itself would have been risky at best. Very few people survive such a procedure, and they didn't think he would because of its size. After I left you I needed to find work, preferably as far from you as I could get. Wentworth had a position open: I applied for it and got it.
“The really embarrassing thing was he knew why I left you: he heard about your affairs. Jesus Christ, did I feel like an idiot for being the last to know. Anyway, when I interviewed for the position he was nothing but skin and bones. Couldn't eat much, couldn't walk in a straight line but that mind, that brilliant mind, was still going full blast while his body was falling apart. He asked me to take over when he couldn't function anymore. I accepted; it was simple as that. After I was comfortable taking the helm, he went to Boston and volunteered for a radical, experimental procedure. It worked. The surgeons were successful in removing the mass without permanently blinding him or turning him into a vegetable. The thing was the size of a peach pit; he has it in a jar in his office."
"Is it still in remission?"
Jensen nodded. "And the longer he's in remission, the better chance of the cancer never coming back."
"Are there any side effects of the operation itself?"
"Yes, there is. He has seizures sometimes, but then you must have guessed that. Otherwise you wouldn't have asked."
"Do you know how dangerous…"
"That is why I'm always in the iso-unit, why I handle the vials and the labwork. If you care to notice, Wentworth's never around the material himself: I am. I do the initial studies and he takes it from there. And the last seizure he had was over a year ago. The attacks aren't even grand mal, just dizziness and an inability to vocally communicate. But it's worrisome enough for him to keep himself away from certain duties."
"Why didn't you tell me this before, Jensen?" Jared asked as he stood up to leave.
"There was only so many things in my life I could handle. After I left you, things got too busy and you seemed to have bounced back quickly. So, I decided to let go and move on. I figured it was the best for everyone."
"You never returned my phone calls."
"What good would it have done? It was better for both of us if we had a clean break. That way we won't end up hating each other down the road."
Jared didn't add anything further to the conversation and left. Though he found the answer he was seeking for three years, the pain it brought made the triumph bittersweet at best. Jared wondered what surgical procedure Miller endured to try and gain some edge over death, and who performed the operation. He had many friends over at Mass E. E. & T and none of them ever told him the internationally respected researcher was a patient in their hospital.
Day Five - Part I
Alice finally turned off her computer, satisfied with her last act of revenge. It didn’t take long for Adams to turn tail and run. She was surprised he lasted this long. However, she was disappointed that the rest of the Board folded so quickly as her boss did. Alice expected them to put up a fight, at least long enough to take the whole matter into a civil trial if only to protect Ignatius’ reputation. Instead, they turned her into a scapegoat and buried their collective heads, hoping the problem would go away somehow, like magic. All those hard choices … all those ungodly hours at work … for these ungrateful bastards.
Alice went to work at seven in the morning, as usual, only to find her ID card no longer gave her access to the building beyond the lobby. The security managed to boot her out quietly and with dignity, but she knew the Board had more in store for her if Ignatius’ situation worsened. She couldn’t figure out why they cut her off. Without her, they were incapable of making the hard decisions; she remembered the terrified looks on their faces when she confronted them about the hellhole that was Coughlin's lab. How they scurried to her for help when none of them knew what to do next.
Alice smiled bitterly; they would learn from their mistake soon enough. It wouldn’t be long after that realization for them to crawl back to her. However, by then, Alice knew it would be too late for everyone, including herself. She strolled out to the veranda and made herself comfortable in a chaise lounge. She then examined the beautifully-lit mansions scattered around Lake Washington. It was almost two in the morning but Alice couldn’t sleep, and had no desire to. With a crooked smile she saluted the night, silently giving her last fuck-you to the world. And yet, in spite of her anger, she did feel a twinge of remorse for her husband.
Alice always chose her career above all else. She knew this attitude infuriated a lot of people, including Mark who simultaneously adored and feared her. She had once described him to her college roommate as a stepping-stone to a higher ground as his name, his family, and his money gave her the means to get what she wanted. What she didn't plan on when she decided to marry Mark was how long it would take to get rid of him once she was done with him. And to be honest with herself, Alice became comfortable with Mark. She had numerous affairs, but as long as they remained discreet, Mark didn’t mind. He loved her so much, he was willing to put up with anything so long as she came to his bed at the end of the day.
Then Jeff came, with his good looks, his ambition and his unfulfilled desires. Alice wanted him more than any man she’s ever met and soon, like most men who came into contact with her sexual being, Jeff also fell into her world. Their affair developed into something Alice never dreamt of so it didn’t take long for Mark to realize her latest fling, whoever he was, was slowly but inexorably stealing away his wife. Alice knew of his fears, but she didn’t care about what he felt, and hoped Mark would soon realize this was one affair he wouldn’t be able to wait out.
Alice wondered if she should leave a note of explanation for Mark. Why not? He deserved at least a token of affection for his years of faithfulness. She scribbled down a brief if also sweet farewell and tucked it into her robe’s pocket.
She didn’t know where to purchase a gun, she wouldn’t have a clue on how to use one either. Mark hated firearms so the house was bereft of any. However, because of her medical license, Alice did have access to a reasonable substitute. Two hours ago, her nose began bleeding, and it was still trickling even as she tied a rubber tube around her upper arm. With cautious fingers, Alice touched the rising vein, and noted its firmness.
Alice was all too familiar with the effects of hemorrhagic fever on the human body and she had no desire to suffer through it. The syringe plunged through the skin, releasing the lethal cocktail into her blood. As she lay dying, Alice dreamt of a life that could have been.
The sun rose on a city imprisoned by fear. Most of the citizens had heard of what happened in Berlin and were terrified that the medical team established in Overlake Hospital would abandon them. Ordered by the C.D.C., Dr. Lee and his team released a statement early enough to make the morning news. They made it very clear they weren't going anywhere and were trenched in Bellevue for the long run. Wentworth remained wisely in the background as a reassuring figure, grateful that he would not be forced to address the press.
“We’ve got serious trouble,” Schillings, Head of Security, informed Benjamin Adams. “Dunrea committed suicide earlier this morning. She left a note for her husband, but I’ve been unable to read it. The man’s locked himself up in his house and refuses to see anyone.”
“Dear God, I was afraid she might do something like this,” Adams said in awe and sadness.
“And there’s even worse news.”
“What?”
“She was able to hack into her work computer. We have no idea if she downloaded anything. Actually, we have no fucking clue what she’s done last night,” Schillings admitted in defeat.
“I told you we should not have cut her loose,” Adams snarled. “She was a smart and ambitious woman: not the type to take her dismissal lightly, especially under these particular circumstances.”
“Do you think she might have given them to Jeff Padalecki or his brother?”
“Perhaps, I wouldn’t want to second-guess Alice's motives. Is there any way we can tap into that damn trailer?”
“No, or at least not yet,” Schillings answered, his frustration plain in his voice and face. “They’ve got round the clock police protection, and their system is heavily encrypted. Our engineers haven’t been able to break into their mainframe yet. Hell, they don’t even know where the servers are located.”
“Then I suggest we find comfort in prayer,” Adams stated flatly. “For that is the only recourse we have.”
Neither man knew Dunrea was infected. Mark, shocked to find his wife dead in their parlor, called the ambulance and the authorities in an incoherent state. He was so traumatized by discovering Alice’s body, he was unable to answer any questions properly. In the end, the emergency personnel ruled her death as suicide pending further investigation. So, her body was transported through the usual channels with no further precautions taken in handling the corpse.
“Find anything yet?” Jensen asked from his stack of boxes. The three doctors and their assistants were now combing over the information Ignatius released, frantically looking for many data that might shed light on Coughlin and Jorgensen's research. Unfortunately they had too much information - a situation as lethal as if they had too little to work with.
“No,” Wentworth replied, flipping through a mountain of manila folders piled to his right. "So far, all I've discovered is their flair for lying on their budget reports."
“Nothing from this corner either,” Jared said then paused as he noticed a group photograph. "“I think I found something.”
Jensen took the picture and stared at the people dressed in lab whites.
“Recognize this guy?” Jared pointed to a man standing next to Coughlin.
“Vaguely, isn’t he dead?” Jensen said as he examined the moon-faced stranger.
“His name was Michael Sanders, a British born, but lived in France.” Wentworth recognized the round face with a hazy, benign gaze. “He was brought up on charges of unethical medical research and directly contributing information on what was suspected to be genocidal bio-warfare study by an unknown party or parties. He was stripped of his license and removed from the University before being brought up on charges. You’re right, he died of a heart attack while waiting for trial. I think there were three others who were also arrested along with him, and they were all found guilty and currently serving prison sentences.”
“When did this happen?” Jensen asked.
“Over a decade ago, sometime in the late 80’s,” Jared remembered with distaste. “It was a huge scandal because one of the accused was an American. He actually belonged to a medical team nominated for the Nobel Prize. But when this hit the fan, everything went to hell pretty damn fast. The second doctor was from Austria, and the third, a geneticist named Paulette Gambon, was working in France when she was arrested.”
“Can we find out for whom they worked for publicly?” Jensen asked as he flipped through the folders, trying to see if there were any more revealing pictures.
“Shouldn’t be a problem. I just have make some calls," Jared said.
Joshua Schillings knew what he had was fatal. He hadn't been feeling well for days, but thought it was because of the enormous stress he was laboring under. Now, with the bleeding, he knew what he had was no ordinary illness. He wiped the fresh trickling blood away from his nose and stared at his wife, still asleep in their marital bed of thirty-four years. Susanne was never a morning person and usually didn’t get out of bed until ten. He wondered how long his beloved had before falling victim herself. Thank God he didn’t allow his children to visit them last week. Schillings had no idea how long he’s been infected, only that now it was too late for him and his wife, unless … unless Jared and his team was able to find a cure soon.
Jeff received the news of Alice’s suicide from a mutual friend. The woman didn’t know the two had broken up and called to see how he was coping with his lover’s death. Jeff made the conversation brief; his abhorrence for Dunrea killed his love, but her death still shocked him. Jeff doubted that Ignatius could drive her to do something so drastic, so that meant there was another, more intimate reason as to why she deliberately overdosed on morphine.
“Oh Christ."
Jeff almost made it out the door before stopping himself. If Alice was infected, it stood to reason he was, also. Yet, his fear egged him to rejoin Jared and the rest of his team. However, the brother in him forced Jeff to call instead.
Jared answered on the second ring. “What's up?”
“I’ve got some bad news. Alice committed suicide.”
“What? Do you know why?”
“I was told Ignatius put her on leave, but I think there was a more personal reason.”
Jeff heard his brother take a deep breath before asking, “You think she was infected?”
“I can’t see any other reason for her to do what she did. I think you should send someone over to her place. Alice must have had some backup plan to protect herself. Be careful, last I heard her husband’s still in the house, and there’s a good chance he’s a carrier too.”
“I hope to God you’re wrong, Jeff.”
“You hope, I’m praying on my knees. Good luck, Jared.”
The younger brother hung up the phone and turned to deal with a room filled with worried faces.
“That was Jeff. Alice Dunrea committed suicide this morning. He believes she did it because she was infected.”
“What do you want us to do?” Jensen asked.
“Get a car prepped and call up a police escort. We need to get to her place now. She might have left something behind, something that could help us.”
They were accompanied by three police cars as they threaded their way through the deserted streets of Bellevue. The gates leading to Dunrea's waterfront mansion were unlocked, but nobody met them as they pulled in front of the house. Jared and Jensen quickly slipped into their bio-suits while the police spanned out to cordon off the entire property. Wentworth stayed in the car, planning to relay any information the other two gathered to Chad and the C.D.C..
They couldn't find the husband so the police put an APB out on Mark Dunrea, though they knew he couldn't have gone far as the cars were still sitting in the garage.
Jared quickly found Alice's home office. Her laptop was still on, nearly buried by mounds of discs scattered about. He handed the whole collection over to Jensen who systematically downloaded the data.
“Any luck?” Jared asked.
“Too early to tell,” Jensen answered.
Jared continued to study Dunrea's internet usage and found the last download.
“Is there a disc entitled Red?” he asked.
Jensen flipped through the remaining discs but didn't find anything with that particular title. "No, why?"
“She downloaded something late last night from Ignatius.”
Jared kneeled down and began hunting around the desk. He didn’t find the disc so they started searching the entire second floor. Jensen flipped the master bathroom and discovered Dunrea’s jewelry box. He searched through it and found a memory stick hidden underneath the first tray containing rings.
“I think we have it!" Jensen plugged it into his laptop, grateful to find it wasn’t password protected.
“What is it?” Jared asked.
“Gene sequences … of what I can’t tell at this stage. There are other documents and data files stored in it. We need to get it back to the lab.”
The two men were slowly making their way to the rest of the house, and were nearly done with the first floor when they stumbled over the chaos in the kitchen.
The sumptuous room was strewn with papers, covering the counter and the floor.
Jensen picked up few of the papers and read them. "Bills ... credit card receipts..."
“Whose?” Jared asked. He then grabbed a few when Jensen didn't answer quickly enough. “Oh shit.”
“What? What’s wrong?”
“Her husband, he was looking for information on Dunrea’s lover. I think he found what he was looking for.” Jared recognized the one set of telephone numbers that came up frequently on Alice's wireless bill. “We need to get Jeff into protective custody now.”
“I’ll talk to the police," Wentworth said before getting off the line.
Jared was the first to go through the makeshift decon chamber they had set up earlier. He found Wentworth waiting for him.
“The police are on their way.”
Jeff heard the knock on the door but hesitated from answering.
“It’s the police, Doctor Padalecki. Your brother sent for you. He believes you're in physical danger because of Mr. Dunrea.”
Jeff moaned out loud and stood in front of the door, refusing to open it.
“Look, I can't go with you but I'll follow you in my car.”
The two young officers agreed even though Jeff could hear confusion in their voices. He heard them open the door to the stairwell before he himself left his apartment. The day was beautiful, but unreal as the city was quiet. There was no traffic, no human beings walking outside to enjoy the gorgeous weather. Jeff wondered if he would see such a fine day again as he got into his BMW.
The police was parked right across the street from the garage entrance. The two cars were approaching the end of the block when a black SUV swerved from around the left corner and rammed the BMW. The front of Jeff's car crumpled on impact as its engine ricocheted into the cockpit, crushing Jeff's ribs before pinning him to his seat.
Mr. Dunrea, the driver of the Ford Escalade, wasn't wearing a seatbelt. He was declared DOA by the emergency staff in Overlake.
Part II * Part IV