In the Company of Wolves
Title: In the Company of Wolves, 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 Five - Part II
Jensen quietly watched Jared. At first glance, the news of Jeff’s condition didn’t seem to affect him in the least, but Jensen knew better. He saw the small ticks of clumsiness as Jared shuffled about.
"What do you need me to do?"
“Nothing, I'm good,” Jared said, then politely added, "thanks for asking."
“Jared...”
Jared’s jawline tensed. “I can do the work without fucking it up, so don’t worry about it.”
“You keep staring at the printer. Chad hasn’t hooked it up yet, remember?”
Jared deflated and sank into a chair. "Fuck!"
Jensen closed the door and pulled down the shades so they could have absolute privacy. He dragged a chair next to Jared and sat down. “The surgeon said it was a miracle Jeff even survived the impact. And he's a strong guy. There's a good chance he could pull through."
Jared shielded his eyes with his hands, but he nodded silently in agreement. It was only a moment before he looked up, his eyes filled with tears. “He's my brother, Jensen. He's my big brother. Jesus Christ...”
Jensen dragged Jared into his embrace, holding on to the bigger man as Jared quaked with unchecked sobs, crying out for a brother who might, at any moment, be forever out of reach.
Benjamin Adams was packing his briefcase for the last time. His wife, Sheryl, called him earlier on their private cell and told him she had found a way through the blockade. A friend of hers had a boat and with a hefty bribe, they could all be in international waters before morning.
With trembling hands Adams turned off his laptop. He looked around the sumptuous office and wondered how everything could have turned to shit so fast.
“Mr. Adams.”
The smooth, deep voice interrupted Adams’ baleful musings. He looked up to see a large African American man standing in the doorway.
“Who are you? And how did you get in?”
“That doesn’t matter, really. And my name is Dr. Sterling Brown.”
“I’m sorry, do you work for me? If you do, please reschedule our meeting because I have to go home. There’s a family emergency.”
“Not anymore,” Dr. Brown said with a polite smile. “Sheryl’s been detained. Her friends, Mr. and Mrs. Haggstroms weren’t so fortunate.”
“What do you mean?” Adams asked, feeling the suddenly light-headed.
“They tried to evade capture,” Dr. Brown replied. “And ended up smashing their car into a divider on the 405. Neither of them were wearing seatbelts.”
“Dear God,” Adams said. “Who the hell are you?”
“You know my name. I work for Department of Homeland Security.”
“The President has declared martial law?”
“As of two this afternoon.” Brown took a quick glance at Adams' briefcase still resting on his desk. “Please come with us.”
“What about my staff?”
“They’re being processed as we speak. I think most of them will be released by tomorrow.”
“Schillings?”
Brown's gaze sharpened. “You haven’t heard?”
Adams shook his head, feeling numbness saw into his bones.
“Joshua Schillings committed suicide this afternoon, after killing his wife. It looks like he used poison.”
As Adams was shepherded into a waiting SUV he couldn’t help but feel envy towards his old friend. At least Joshua got to die in Susanne’s arms. Adams knew he wouldn’t be as lucky.
Chad shook his head as he read the latest bulletin. Giving a low whistle he passed the info to Morgan. “Jeff, take a look at this.”
Jeff read the news and shook his head. “Man, it’s a bad day to be a board member on Ignatius.”
“Fatal,” Chad remarked. “So, what do you think about the martial law?”
“Honestly? I don’t know. The ones I’ve been under were pretty fucking bad.”
“But that’s like in Africa, right?”
“Africa, Middle East. Hell, South Korea for couple of weeks when SARS hit,” Jeff said. “Just because we practice democracy doesn’t mean we don’t know how to be tyrants.”
“Hey, we’re looking for Jensen?”
Chad saw two strangers and blinked. For a moment, he thought he was seeing twins. But, after a long look, he realized his initial impression was wrong: the men were only dressed similarly, right down to the worn cowboy boots and straw hats.
“Dude, sorry to say the bar is closed,” Chad said and winced. He’d been warned more than once his mouth would land him in a heap of trouble, or worse.
The one with a deeper tan grinned. “We know. We tried looking earlier: Bellevue’s pretty dry town. Name’s Steve Carlson, by the way. And this is Chris Kane. We’re with Jensen’s team.”
“You mean Miller’s,” Jeff corrected smoothly.
“Nope, Jensen's,” Chris drawled easily. “Miller’s team is stuck in England. They can’t get over here on the account of how there isn’t a fucking plane in the air.”
“Okay,” Chad said quickly, hoping to get the conversation under some kind of control. “We weren’t told about any additional help.”
Chris sighed and took off his hat. He turned to Steve and said, “What the fuck, man?!”
“Look, Jensen said he’d probably need us…”
“Probably?” Chris barked. “You woke me up at ass o’clock in the morning, forced me to drive for fourteen hours straight and play hide-n-seek with bunch of testosterone-poisoned super soldiers just because you got a case of the mother-hen?!”
“I thought I heard familiar voices,” Jensen said as he strolled in behind them. “Man, it’s damn good to see you, but what are you doing here?”
Chris smacked Steve on the back of his head hard enough to dislodge the man’s hat.
“Who are these guys?” Jeff finally asked, more amused than annoyed now that he’d witnessed the friendly banter between the three men.
“This is Chris Kane, Steve Carlson,” Jensen said, pointing out to the two men. “They sometimes work with me and Wentworth when we’re abroad and in need of help.”
“What kind of help?” Chad asked.
“The kind that involves dealing with unfriendly parties who need persuading,” Steve said in a calm voice.
“So, you punch people for a living?” Once more Chad wondered what in hell happened to the checkpoint guard between his tongue and his brain.
Chris’ smile was broad and genuine. “Nah, we try to avoid doing that as much as possible. Steve here has magic hands when it comes to driving. Damn luckiest guy I’ve ever met.”
“And you?” Jeff asked.
“I'm not afraid to fight.”
“He's telling the truth,” Jensen said. “How’d you get in here anyway? None of you have clearance for this assignment.”
Steve smiled and shrugged. Chris coughed and said, “We called Gabe.”
“Oh, fuck me,” Jensen hissed. “Don’t tell me you dragged him into this. He's in enough trouble already!”
“Look, the guy was shitting in his pants. We all were, you know. One moment you’re in England being all hoity-toity, and the next thing we know you’re back in the States and in the middle of this hellhole!”
Steve looked at Jensen then lightly added, "We were worried, basically.”
“Fuck off,” Chris said. “So, yeah, we contacted G-T and he got us through security.”
“Wait a minute,” Chad said. “G-T as in Gabe Tigerman?”
Morgan’s face clouded with confusion. “Why do I know that name?”
“Dude, he’s the guy who pulled off that funny shit on Bill Gates during Microsoft’s annual board meeting.”
“Oh hell,” Jeff said before his face exploded into a wide grin. “The gay porn guy? I saw that on Youtube. The man’s a genius.”
Jensen shook his head in wonder. He’d never thought Gabe would go down in history as the man who pointed out the faults in the so-called Mojave Experiment using gay porn from Germany. It was six minutes of complete humiliation for Bill Gates which ended in Tigerman being exiled from the States.
“So, he’s still in Croatia?” Chad asked.
Jensen nodded. “Yeah, and his girlfriend joined him couple of months ago.”
“That dude takes disgruntled employee routine to a whole new level,” Chad said with a smirk.
“So, do you need us to do anything, Jen?” Chris asked.
“Maybe, I don’t know if you know this or not but the city of Seattle is under martial law.”
“Yeah, we just heard it on the radio,” Steve said. “Sounds bad, but it was something you expected, right?”
Jensen shrugged carelessly but he knew his friends could read the tension in the movement. “It’s the same old shit as everywhere else. Just because we’re home doesn’t mean things are different.”
Chris elbowed Steve and said, “See? I told you.”
Steve gave an exasperated sigh and for the first time revealed his temper. “There was no way we were going to get into the city with firearms tucked into our belts.”
“You guys carry weapons?” Jeff asked.
“Sometimes,” Steve said. “Depending on the situation and the culture. Most of the places we go, they expect men, especially American men, to be armed. So, we have little choice but to have one. It looks bad if we don’t.”
“Sounds like the same old shit, all right,” Jeff said then noticed the puzzled look on the men’s faces. “I use to be in the same boat as you two, at least until my right knee took a vacation and never came back.”
Wentworth entered the room, saw Steve and Chris and said, “I thought you’d be here sooner.”
Chris rolled his eyes. “Nice to see you to, Wenny.”
“Stop calling me that,” Wentworth said lightly. “I just got a call from Department of Homeland Security. They’re sending people over to debrief us and review what we have.”
“They can’t talk to Jared,” Jensen said. “He just went to sleep.”
“What?” Wentworth asked.
“He didn’t get any sleep last night and with what happened to Jeff, I thought it’d be best if he took a break.”
“Can you wake him?”
“No, I gave him a strong sedative. He’s going to be out for at least four hours.”
“Well, I guess we’ll have to do without him,” Wentworth said. “Mr. Murray, please get proper identifications for the tornado twins. It won’t do to have a security breach being paraded in front of Homeland when they get here.”
“Will do,” Chad said.
Wentworth turned to Jensen and said, “Could I have a word?”
“Sure.”
Jeff watched the two men leave the room. “I don’t get it.”
“Get what?” Chad asked.
“Nothing,” Jeff mumbled before turning his attention to Jensen’s friends. “So how did you two meet?”
“I married his sister,” Chris said.
Steve nodded. “Then she realized what a big fucking mistake that was and divorced him. But we kinda gotten used to each other by then so we stayed friends.”
“Emily’s still ticked off as hell about that.” Chris looked at Steve and gave a careless shrug. “Not that he cares.”
“She’s a grown woman, which is why I let her marry this asshole in the first place. Just fair for her to give me the same respect.”
“You two are insane, you know that, right?” Chad said. “Like Loco Choco crazy. No wonder you’re into this stuff.”
Chris wriggled his fingers and said, “Any chance we’ll get the IDs before Homeland comes knocking?”
Chad gave a small bounce on his chair and said, “Two tier-three clearance IDs coming right up.”
Steve looked at Jeff and said, “Got a shower I could use? I need to clean up and look decent if Washington is descending on us. Wouldn’t want them to think there’s bunch of rednecks running the place.”
Jeff pointed to a hallway. “Let me show you our emergency bunker system.”
“Oh God, Jensen had one of those made up here too?” Steve asked.
“No, actually, Jared did.” Jeff noticed his companion stiffen visibly at the name but tactfully didn’t ask why. He figured since Steve was Jensen's friend, he must have seen the emotional fallout when the two broke up.
“What happened to Jeff?” Steve asked softly as Morgan herded him down the hall.
“He was in a car accident earlier today.”
“Jesus Christ,” Steve said. “I met him couple of times: real uptight but a good guy. Jensen liked him a lot. Was he heavily involved with this operation?”
Jeff shook his head. “No, thank God. But he used to work for Ignatius Pharmaceuticals, which is where all this started by the way.”
“Yeah, we got that much from CNN,” Steve said. “What the fuck were they doing messing with this shit? After what happened in Reston I’d thought there would be a ban on the stuff.”
“There is a ban but it didn’t stop them from dipping into the poisoned well," Jeff said as he opened the door at the end of the corridor and turned on the lights. The room was compact, with four beds, all bunker-styled. He pointed to the door on the left. “The showers and the toilets are there.”
“I’ll be done in ten.”
Jeff slowly made his way back to the front office to find Chris filling out forms. Chad gave a wide-eyed glance at him before returning to his computer. Jeff knew he’d found something about Jensen’s friends but wasn’t willing to talk about it in front of them. It took Chris few minutes before he was finished with the paperwork. Jeff pointed out where his friend went and Chris ambled away.
Chad waited for full thirty seconds before speaking. “Dude, they already had first-tier clearance.”
“What? From whom?”
“C.D.C. and the Department of Health. When I tried to clear them for this, I got a call from both of them, ordering me to give those two hicks full access,” Chad said. “I don’t remember meeting them when Jensen worked with us.”
“That’s probably because Jared didn’t like their company much.”
“What do you mean?” Chad belligerently asked.
“I know Jared is your best friend, but the guy had issues when it came to Jensen. Especially when it came to Jensen and his male friends.”
Chad deflated immediately. “Yeah, I know. I just wish Jared clued in on earlier about Jensen.”
“You mean him tomcatting behind Jensen’s back?”
Chad nodded and rubbed his forehead with his fingers - a definite sign of exhaustion and frustration. “I’ve never seen Jared take to anyone before, you know? So I didn’t think he’d fuck around, but when I found out…”
“Did you tell him to stop?”
Chad nodded. “Oh yeah, and he promised each time he would: scout’s honor and everything. I don’t get why he didn’t stop. He knew Jensen would walk if he found out he was being screwed over.”
“Maybe that’s why he did it.” Jeff looked contemplative. “Some people just don’t know what to do when they finally have what they want.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“It means Jared belongs to the unlucky few who has to fuck up first before getting it right.”
Chad rolled his eyes and chuffed, “Whatever.”
“What do you think?”
Chad looked nervously around the room to make sure he wasn’t being overheard. “I think Jared’s going out of his mind. The dumbass is finally getting a clue and there’s nothing he can do except sit back and watch. He hates that, you know: not being able to do something.”
“Maybe it’s not too late.”
“I was hoping for the same damn thing.”
“Then why are you so hostile with Jensen?”
“Jared’s my boy. Simple as that.”
“You’re not so big a dick as people say, Murray.”
“Like I give a fuck what people think about me. I do my job, I get paid, and I keep what friends I have. I think that makes me a smart bastard compared to most of the human race.”
Jeff gave a friendly thump on Chad’s back. “It does but don’t be so smug about it.”
“Dude, we got company.” Chad pointed at the bank of video screens.
“Looks like the Feds,” Jeff said.
“FBI?” Chad asked.
“No, suit’s too expensive,” Jeff answered. “Maybe Homeland?”
“Well, we’re about to find out.”
Jeff stood up and Chad followed as the tall, athletic, black man entered the room. He looked around the room once, spotting the two but said nothing until he was done mentally cataloging everything.
“Hello, my name is Sterling Brown,” he said. “I’m here to talk to Dr. Padalecki and Dr. Ackles.”
“I can get Dr. Ackles right now but Jar … Dr. Padalecki is unavailable.” Chad paged Jensen. “Dr. Padalecki just received the news about his brother and had to take a breather.”
“What kind of breather?” Brown asked casually.
“The kind that involves sleep,” Jeff answered gruffly. “The man’s been running on gas for a while now. We all have.”
“Understood,” Sterling said.
“Hello,” Jensen said as he hurried into the room. “I’m Dr. Ackles.”
“Dr. Sterling Brown.”
“Which department are you from exactly?” Jeff asked. “You never said.”
“Homeland Security,” Brown answered. “Here are my credentials.”
Chad took the IDs and checked them. It took him less than a minute to confirm then clear Brown for all security levels.
“If you’d follow me, I have an office we can use.”
Brown followed Jensen without a glance back. Jeff gave a low whistle only after he was sure the Homeland Security agent couldn’t hear him.
“Wow, that’s one cold bastard,” Jeff said.
“You think?” Chad added sarcastically. “By the way, what does this mean?”
Jeff looked at the computer screen and saw the initial ‘M’ next to Brown’s ID number. He frowned and scrolled down to see if there was a reference. He found none.
“I have no idea,” he said.
“I never seen it before,” Chad said.
“Why don’t you find Chris or Steve? Maybe they have an idea.”
“It’s not important; I was just curious.”
“No, find out,” Jeff insisted. “I want to know about as much as possible when it comes to outsiders.”
“Man, you really are paranoid, aren’t you?”
“Paranoid, yes. Stupid? No. Find out what that ‘M’ stands for.”
Jensen closed the door behind him and waited until the visitor was comfortable in his chair before sitting down.
“So, what’s this about? I thought we had the all-clearance to establish HQ here.”
“Oh, you did. It’s just that there’s been a second review after Dr. Jeffrey Padalecki’s unfortunate accident. Not to mention Alice Dunrea’s suicide. People are asking very hard questions in DC, and we want to make sure all our answers will face up to scrutiny.”
“Why are you really here?”
Neither Brown’s posture nor his tone changed. “As I’ve said…”
“I know who you really work for.” Jensen opened his messenger bag and pulled out an ordinary brown folder that had a purple strip running across the entire front face.
“Where did you get that?” Brown asked, sounding completely unfazed by Jensen's declaration.
“You’d be amazed what people are willing to cough up when their dicks are on the chopping block,” Jensen answered. “I am well aware that my work’s been hacked while I was in California. When I found out someone’s been downloading my files on the sly, I added a virus. One that allows me to have access to whomever was monitoring my work. So, as they were spying on me, I was doing the same to them.
“After I left UCSD, I decided to keep quiet and wait until I needed to use the intel. I was amazed by the number of high-ranking officers in the Pentagon and in the Senate who were willing to utilize stolen work for their own gain. I am even more amazed by the private shit they store in their personal laptops. Trust me, Dr. Brown, I’m not someone you want to fuck with. Not here and definitely not under these particular circumstances.
“So, I’ll ask again: why are you here?”
“Dr. Padalecki has come under suspicion.”
“Okay, I can accept that. But there’s more, isn’t there?”
“Dr. Miller’s involvement is also under review.”
“Why?”
“Because of his previous work with us.”
“With Homeland?”
“No, with Department of Defense.”
“He didn’t do…”
“Yes, he did, actually. He volunteered to go with the international health group that dealt with the outbreak in Uganda and was recruited there. He worked with the Department of Defense in 2001, studying the material gathered by the C.D.C..”
“What did he do, exactly?”
“He studied the bioengineering component of the Ebola virus. To see if he could genetically engineer the diseases into a bio-weapon.”
“That’s completely illegal, under international law…”
“To see if he could replicate what we already had in storage.”
“What?” Jensen whispered.
“The United States government currently has in its possession three bio-engineered strains of the Ebola virus: all weapon’s grade, all programmed to annihilate specific target groups in the human population.”
“That’s not possible,” Jensen argued. “We didn’t have the technology back then. Hell, we still don’t have it now!”
“That is not true, hasn’t been for nearly a decade,” Brown countered. “I think we should call Dr. Miller in before we discuss this any further.”
Jensen paged Wentworth who replied within the minute. When he came into the office Jensen immediately knew there was some truth to Brown’s story as Miller's complexion went pasty.
“Hello, Dr. Miller,” Brown said. “I see you haven’t been keeping your partner up-to-date with your background.”
Wentworth looked at Jensen with panicky eyes. “I saw no reason … I mean, I signed an official agreement with the government never to reveal my work with your department.”
“Of course, but I think Dr. Ackles should be told what he is exactly facing. Don’t you?”
“There’s nothing to indicate that the strain we have is genetically engineered,” Wentworth said. “I would have recognized it immediately as I’ve studied the three already in containment.”
“So, you’re sure this latest outbreak came from a natural reservoir and not manmade?” Brown asked.
“Of course not,” Wentworth said heatedly. “So far, all we know is that Dr. Coughlin and Dr. Jorgensen had been messing around with the virus for purposes of developing some immunity suppressants, but for what end we are still unsure. All we know is that the virus originated from their lab, but we still have to discover whether that vector was manmade or from an infected monkey.”
“How much data do you have to go through?” Brown asked.
“Not much, we are still working on the decoding,” Jensen answered. “Once we crack the cipher we should be able to read all their notes.”
“Dr. Coughlin kept electronic journals,” Wentworth said. “But they’re very limited in scope.”
“Could I see the cipher?”
Jensen turned to Wentworth who said, “I don’t see any reason why not. It’s not as if we can keep you away from them.”
Sterling watched the two men who took the lead. Even though there was palpable tension between them in the office, once they were outside the two once again fell into easy companionship. Sterling wondered if the rumors of their sexual liaison were true. He always believed Miller to be a cold fish and knew Ackles wasn’t the type to pursue a quarry as difficult as his boss. And that was the other thing: Miller was Ackles’ boss and Sterling was well aware of the affair between Padalecki and Ackles and how disastrous that turned out for all concerned.
Miller led Sterling into a room the size of a large broom closet. In it was a desk with a laptop and pads of paper.
Sterling looked around and noted the barren walls. “Is there a larger space I could use?”
“We have a desk in the main room, if you don’t mind keeping company with Chad and Jeff,” Jensen offered.
“No, not at all.”
Sterling took a deep breath of relief when he took an empty desk in the brightly lit room. Though he didn’t suffer from claustrophobia, the glorified janitor’s closet reminded him too much of his Bolivian prison cell he spent three months in. He used his own laptop to start writing out permutations that could break the encryption. After solid thirty minutes Sterling realized his approach was completely inappropriate.
They were working on one of the deadliest viruses known to mankind. They knew their work had to be kept secret but at the same time could they afford to create an encryption so complicated that should it need to be solved later by someone else, it would become an impossible challenge?
And, if not … what would they have done?
Sterling sat back and looked at the printout again.
Lose the complicated calculations, the various letter substitutions. What would Coughlin and Jorgensen have used? Something that would be harder than Caesar’s Shift but one that would be recognizable by their peers if they were forced to crack the encryption.
Sterling scrambled for a pen and paper. He knew he had it: the Vigenère Cipher. So, then, what would be the key?
Ebola? Jesus, it can’t be that simple.
He quickly sketched out the Vigenère table and began working. Within ten minutes he had the first paragraph decrypted. It was then Sterling knew both Coughlin and Jorgensen suspected they might not live long enough to see the end of their work. For a moment he allowed himself to feel pity.
Sterling looked at Chad and said, “Get Dr. Ackles and Dr. Miller. I broke the encryption.”
Wentworth managed to keep his peace until Brown was deposited on the desk of his choice. He knew from Jensen’s stillness that the man was furious. He watched his partner as the man made economical movements, adjusting the microscope before reading the slides.
“Would it help if I said I really didn’t think my past would have any influence on what we are doing now?”
“How the hell could it not?” Jensen asked, not bothering to look up from his scope. “You let me believe that there was no way this thing could be manmade. But what really yanks my balls is the fact we wasted an entire day chasing down something you already knew. Jesus! What the hell were you thinking?”
“Like I said earlier, I signed…”
“Fuck the contract!” Jensen looked at Wentworth with uncontrollable fury. “People are dying! They’re literally drowning in their blood and you’re going on about paperwork? What the fuck?”
“You have to calm down, Jensen. You can’t work properly if you’re this upset.”
“Upset doesn’t even begin to fucking cover it, Went.” Jensen took a cursory glance at the scope. “In fact, I think I’m camped right now in the land of fucking pissed.”
Wentworth frowned. Jensen’s tirade tapered off at the end and he didn’t believe it was because Jensen had run out of steam.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Take a look at this,” Jensen said.
Wentworth looked at the slide. “What is this?”
“It’s from a blood work done on patient from grid K-11.”
“I don’t get … that can’t be.”
“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking,” Jensen said. “The cells should be destroyed. In fact, they should be teeming with the filovirus by now.”
“Where’s the crystallization? Maybe we have a tainted sample?”
“Maybe,” Jensen muttered. “Let’s see another slide.”
Jensen placed a new one. “This is from grid B-8.”
Wentworth looked at it. “I see crystallization, the … wait, this one isn’t right either. When was this patient hospitalized?”
“Yesterday morning.”
“And the other one?”
“The day before, 14:20 to be exact.”
Wentworth looked at the slides again. “Neither of them is showing the infection rate they should be. Like you said, these cells should be completely obliterated by now.”
“Let me get the rest.”
The two men silently divided the work between them and began methodically scanning the slides.
“I’m going to have to wake up Jared,” Jensen said as he looked at the last one in his batch. “I’ve never seen anything like this. Have you?”
“No,” Wentworth replied. “Never in the field or in a lab, I swear.”
Before Jensen could say anything Wentworth’s cell chirped. It was a brief conversation. “That was Chad. Brown broke the encryption.”
“Of course he did,” Jensen said tiredly. “Okay, you talk to him, I’ll get Jared. Either we missed something or this is a whole new bag of hell we’re juggling.”
Wentworth quirked a smile at Jensen’s florid descriptions. “Good luck waking Padalecki up. I heard he can be a bear.”
“Thanks, I’ll need all the luck I can get.”
Jensen quietly entered the small room equipped with a bunkbed, a lamp and nothing else. He heard Jared snoring loudly and couldn’t help but smile at the brain-stabbing noise. He turned on the lamp to the lowest setting and peered at the sleeping man.
Jensen gently shook Jared and said, “Wake up. We need you.”
Jared made some incomprehensible noises and rolled onto his stomach. Jensen closed his eyes and sighed. He’d been through this enough times to know only one thing could wake the sleeping giant. He took off his right sneaker and swung it down with great force. It hit right between Jared’s shoulders with an almighty snap.
Jensen shouted, “Wake the fuck up!”
Jared opened one eye and hoarsely asked, “What?”
“We have visitors and I want you to look at the slides that just came in.”
“What the fuck? Did you go blind or something? Why do you need me to look at them?”
“Jared, get your lardy ass out of bed. We have Homeland Security breathing down our necks.”
“What about the slides?” Jared asked as he slowly sat up and flexed his shoulders. “That was a bit much, don’t you think?”
“I don’t think so. I remember the last time I tried to get you out of bed.”
“Not my fault you couldn’t duck fast enough.”
“Stitches, Jared. I had stitches. Anyway, get out of bed.”
Jared looked at his watch as he got dressed. “Hey, I had three hours of sleep. That’s gotta be a record for you.”
“What are you talking about?” Jensen asked. “I let you sleep.”
“No, you let me pass out.”
Jared barely managed to hide his smirk as Jensen’s ears turned brilliant red. Part of him wondered why he even bothered to bring up their past as a topic of conversation since Jensen seemed only too eager to never to discuss their love life even when they were sharing the same bed.
Jensen visibly stiffened as they approached the front part of the building. “I want to tell you something before we go in.”
Jared listened patiently as Jensen described what had happened while he was asleep. Part of him wanted to do nothing less than rip off Miller’s head but he knew the man had more than valid reasons for keeping his part of the Faustian bargain. He knew only too well what happened to researchers who were blacklisted by the government. Their fields depended on material and information given by the United States military. Without their full cooperation nobody could last long in the business of hunting down the Ebola virus.
“So, you know this Dr. Brown guy?” he asked.
“Not really, but I do know Homeland Security isn’t the only one he reports to. In fact, I think that’s just part of his cover.”
“What do you mean?”
“After the Anthrax scare few years ago, I noticed people started showing up across the States, questioning labs about their source material and research. They said they were from Homeland but I know some of the directors who were questioned didn’t believe them.”
“Why?” Jared asked.
“Because the directors called up their counterparts in C.D.C. and Homeland, and they didn’t have a clue about the sweeps that were happening.”
“That could just be interdepartmental bullshit. Happens all the time.”
“Yeah, but think about it, Jared. Anthrax - you’d have the FBI, the C.D.C., the Army, Homeland, hell, maybe even the U.S. Marshals, all trying to stake their claim. Instead, you only have one agency showing up? Doesn’t that sound like too much cooperation? Especially if you think about the Army’s stake in it.”
Jared thoughtfully looked at Jensen. “You think there’s an unidentified party involved?”
“That’s exactly what I think.”
“When would this administration have been formed? And why weren’t any of us informed about it? There’s only a handful of people who are familiar with Level Four contagions, and if none of us have been invited to join…”
“Who said we weren’t invited?” Jensen asked.
“Are you talking about Miller?”
“No, I’m talking about Coughlin and Jorgensen.”
“Jensen, do you have any idea what you’re saying? You’re accusing the U.S. government of starting this!”
“Somebody gave them the virus. Somebody gave them the technology. If we take Ignatius out of the equation, then who’s left?”
“But then why won’t they…”
“That’s why Brown’s here,” Jensen said. “He’s here not just to see what we’re doing, but what we need.”
“If that’s true then we’re either very screwed or…”
“We have a golden opportunity to find out exactly how big a FUBAR this entire situation really is.”
“Okay, so how do you want to play this?”
“Like couple of blind mice,” Jensen said. “I want to see what they do.”
“If there is a ‘they’ to begin with,” Jared said.
“Either way, it won’t hurt.”
“No, guess not,” Jared said. “Man, I hate doing this shit while working.”
Jensen’s smile was brilliant and for a moment Jared let himself fall into it. He had forgotten how clever and manipulative Jensen could be when backed into a corner and forced into a confrontation.
Jared paused for a moment when he entered the front office. He knew who Dr. Brown was, but when he had known the man, it was Colonel Brown, not doctor. Suddenly he understood where he stood in this battle, and it wasn’t with Jensen.
May 2003
Easton, Maryland, sixty minutes outside of DC
Jared watched with trepidation as Jensen got out of the taxi. He knew Jensen would be more than suitably impressed with his lab, but the ex-Californian had more than few contracts being thrown at his feet and all of them had impressive dollar signs, something Jared seriously lacked. He could offer comparative salary in the academic arena, but the amount was nowhere near the high six-figures that the various pharmaceuticals were offering.
Jensen caught sight of him and smiled. Jared took a deep breath for preparation and strolled out into the hot sun. “Welcome to Easton, or shall I say welcome back since you went to Georgetown.”
“I’d forgotten how humid it could get here.”
“Hey, we’re near the coast so you could go for a dip if you want to.”
Jensen made a face. “Have you seen the pollution?”
Jared shook his head. “Not really. I have to admit I’ve been too busy with work to do much of anything outside the office.”
“Sounds about right,” Jensen said.
“Okay, so here are your clearance IDs but you have to have an escort at all times once you’re on my floor: there’s no going around that since I have live samples.”
“I still can’t believe that.” Jensen’s voice was subdued with awe. “I have only worked with live samples in Atlanta.”
“Hey, one of the perks of being near DC,” Jared said with a smile. “C’mon, let’s grab coffee and I’ll give you the grand tour.”
Jared was particularly proud of the cafeteria as it served very good food and even better coffee. It was partially due to the fact that the Senate Appropriation Committee had a healthy appreciation of the fact that the people who worked with deadly contagions should not be hungry or caffeine-deprived.
Jensen made appreciative noises as he slugged down his coffee and some organic bran muffin that, to Jared, looked like it came out of the wrong end of an Ent.
Jensen caught him staring and asked, “What?”
“How can you possibly drink that much coffee without adding sugar or milk or something? And what the hell is in that muffin?”
“I had a friend who did a study on those artificial sweeteners. His results scared me witless.”
“Lab rats?”
“Had balls the size of rottweilers.”
“Okay, that sounds mildly worrisome.”
“I’m kidding,” Jensen said, quirking a grin. “But, seriously, that stuff’s horrible for you.”
“I don’t have the time to spend worrying about Sweet n’Low when I’m juggling blood samples clogged with Zaire,” Jared said in a lofty tone.
“Well, not all of us are lucky as you.”
“I have to ask,” Jared said, “how did you get into this? From your CV it looks like you were slated to go into medical practice.”
Jensen hesitated only for a moment but Jared saw the reluctance. He belatedly realized the reason had to have been private and mentally kicked himself. After their meeting last year, Jared had tried diligently to find out about Jensen Ross Ackles, but the man was pretty much a mystery, even in UCSD where he worked.
“I had a fiancée,” Jensen said. “Danneel was her name. We met young, while I was in Georgetown. She wasn’t … well, she wasn’t like me, let’s just say. She could’ve had anyone but for some reason she chose to love me, and I am very difficult person to love. Work with? No. Respect? No. But love … that’s different.”
“What happened?”
“MRSA.”
“The treatments didn’t work?”
“No, the infection spread to her lungs,” Jensen whispered. “She went in for a broken arm and left in a coffin. I lost her in a week.”
“Jesus Christ. Where did it come from?”
“That was the thing. She was the only one who came down with it in that hospital. And they were too busy trying to cover their asses to figure out where and the why. By the time they got their act together it was too late to work back the infection and figure out the cause.
“That’s when I decided to go into infectious diseases.”
“Even so, you’re dealing with the deadliest of them all. Why Ebola?”
“Because it is the deadliest. Because there is no cure. Because when it hits the ground, it leaves nothing but death at its wake.”
“You sound slightly suicidal, you know that?”
Jensen shook his head. “Not that. I spent my entire life coasting on my intelligence. You know what it’s like: people let you get away with murder when you’re a bona fide genius.”
Jared gave a crooked smile. “Yeah, I know.”
“Well, what’s the use of being a world-class brain-trust if you’re going to live in the safety zone? Why the hell did God give me a brain like mine if I can’t save people from things like MRSA or Ebola? Seriously, what’s the use of being a genius if you don’t use what’s been given to you to its utmost potential?
“I guess I hate lazy people.”
Jared threw back his head and laughed. “So you’re doing God’s work?” he asked when he got himself under control.
“Nothing so noble,” Jensen answered. He peeled off the coffee sleeve from the cup and began systematically tearing strips off of it. “I want to know how far I can be pushed. And I want to do the pushing myself. I’ve been in the lab too long, Jared. I want to know what it’s like when there’s no space suits or negative air pressure protecting me. I want to see … to have a chance at figuring out where this thing comes from and nuke it to hell.”
“You and few hundred people,” Jared said. “You know you’re going to be in the toughest, deadliest race of your life if you come aboard, right?”
“I know,” Jensen said. “I’ve met with Dr. Khan from Kikwit.”
“Good, I don’t want you go into this thinking it’s all glamour and Tomb Raider adventures.”
“That’s not what I want,” Jensen said. “What I want is a chance to fight outside the lab.”
“Having a temper will only get you to your grave faster,” Jared cautioned.
“So says the man who started how many brawls?”
“I see you’ve talked to some of my European colleagues,” Jared deadpanned. “I swear, one fistfight and they can’t help themselves.”
“From what I’ve heard it was more than just one fight.”
Jared cleared his throat. “If you’re done we can go down to my lab.”
Jensen’s face didn’t reveal a trace of amusement as they cleared their trays and entered the inner sanctum of a building designed to withstand a nuclear blast. Jared led him through a maze of checkpoints, all manned by armed Marines whose faces revealed neither recognition nor respect as they filtered through.
They reach a bank of elevators and Jared pointed to the one that’s jammed into a corner. He slid his ID through the reader and stepped back as the doors slammed open with a crash. Jensen winced at the noise but remained silent as the car suddenly plunged.
“We’re at the lowest basement level,” Jared said.
“Good to know,” Jensen said. “So, if there’s a containment breach?”
“The government won’t have to pay for our funerals. They’ll just erect one large gravestone over our heads and that’ll be the end of that.”
“Damn thing better be marble then.”
The elevator announced its arrival by slamming the doors open. Jared ushered Jensen through a dimly lit corridor. They went through two more checkpoints before stopping in front of an oversized door. Jensen touched it.
“It’s not wood,” he said. “Could've fooled me.”
Jared keyed in his passcode and stepped aside as the door slowly swung back. Jensen blinked as harsh light suddenly hit his eyes. The lighting difference between the rest of the floor and the lab was done on purpose, per Jared’s orders. Should any unauthorized personnel make it down this far, the sudden blindness would give the lab personnel few precious seconds to perform emergency lockdown procedure: a verbal shout which would trigger all the safety guards in sequential order until Jared, himself, gave the proper authorization to stop and reverse the process.
Jensen looked at the front office which held a bank of computers to the left and a glass wall to the right, which revealed an impressive collection of medical journals.
“The computers?” Jensen asked.
“They contain research material. The more sensitive intel is located in the rear.” Jared led them through another secured entrance to another large room which only held four desks, all equipped with the latest computers.
“This is where most of us work.”
“No private offices?” Jensen asked.
“No,” Jared answered.
“What about you?”
“I’m the only exception.”
“Of course,” Jensen said dryly. “Is there a reason why nobody else has privacy?”
“Because it can kill in a job I’m offering,” Jared said. “Look, when we’re out in the field, it’s pretty much guaranteed you’ll be pissing in full view of everyone. I transferred the same mentality here. No matter how bad your life is outside this floor, you can’t bring it in because if you do, you might just end up getting yourself killed, if you’re lucky. If you’re not: you can get a lot of other people killed.
“That’s unacceptable risk to me.”
“So where are your people?”
“Jeff Morgan, my chief field operator, is, unsurprisingly not in the lab. He spends most of his time chasing down leads, no matter how small. Chad Murray is my computer guy, and he’s not here probably because he’s catching a smoke. One of my two lab techs is already suited up. Want to see?”
“That’s what I came here for!”
Jared smiled at Jensen’s boyish enthusiasm. Even in their chosen profession very few people were eager to actually come face to face with the Ebola virus, even in a strictly controlled environment.
“By the way, you have to go through the entire decon process,” Jared said.
“I figured.”
Jared keyed the door to a locker room that, though was kept in a pristine condition, still managed to smell like one. Jared managed to sneak in two glances as Jensen casually stripped down to his briefs. He was surprised by how thin the man was. Because of his broad shoulders, Jensen looked physically imposing in a suit. But, in reality, he was thin and abnormally pale. Jared winced, thinking about how that fair skin will react to the tropical sun.
Jared opened the door to a barely-lit room. Other labs had multiple levels since they contain viruses from the most benign to some that are bio-warfare grade. In here, there was only one: Level Four, the highest designation, signifying that behind the sealed doors lay the deadliest contagions known to man.
It wasn’t until the door shut behind them and he heard the sound of air rushing in that Jared began speaking.
“We’re suiting up here.”
Jensen looked around the bare walls. “Where are they?”
As if to answer his questions, two lab suits descended from the ceiling. Jensen looked up and noted the mechanism rolling across, and the many space suits hanging by independent arms.
“Is this standard for MCLs?” he asked.
“No, this is new,” Jared said as he put on his suit. “Most maximum containment labs are still laboring under twentieth century technology. The CDC just spruced up theirs. I had mine built with the twenty-first century in mind.”
Jensen felt something bulky tapping against the thigh of his suit. He looked down and saw a roll of duct tape hanging from a string that was looped around the belt. “Twenty-first century?”
“Dude, don’t diss the tape. That stuff can save your life. Saved mine few times!”
“Where do I keep it?”
“Just take off few pieces and stick them on your calves or something. If your suit’s compromised in any way, the duct tape will do as a patch until we get you into containment.” Jared then demonstrated what to do. Jensen took no less than three pieces which he taped to various parts of his suit. The two men donned the boots, making sure the pants’ cuffs were tucked in tightly before putting on the gloves. They saved the helmets last as it was always momentarily disconcerting when the helmet was locked into position and outside noises were completely blocked out.
Jared showed Jensen where to turn on the comm before exiting the room. The two men stood in a small hallway while they were doused with a disinfectant mixture that smelled strongly of bleach. Then their personal oxygen circulators clicked on. There was a roar of air being sucked in as the door slid open to Jared’s lab. He heard Jensen’s quick intake of breath and knew the man was suitably impressed by the layout before him.
“I’m guessing you approve?”
“This is amazing,” Jensen said as they walked in. The two men had to move slowly and deliberately as they entered further into the lab.
“This is Ben Edlund,” Jared introduced a slight man who was hunched over a microscope. “The heartless bastard’s moving onto greener pastures.”
“Plug it, Padalecki,” Edlund groused, not even bothering to look up.
“Ben, this is Dr. Ackles.”
That got the man’s attention. Jensen saw a non-descript face made lively with bright, intelligent eyes.
“Oh, now I see why you’d want to hire him,” Ben cackled gleefully.
“Fuck you,” Jared said good-naturedly.
“No chance in hell, son.” Ben looked at Jensen with definite gleam in his eyes. “Want to see Marburg?”
“Hell yeah,” Jensen said, his voice filled with eagerness.
“Take a look.” Ben stepped aside.
Jensen cautiously approached the microscope, making sure his arms were fully at his side, thus avoiding any chance of knocking things off the table. He peered into the scope and saw the familiar string formation.
“Where did you get this?” Jensen asked.
“From a monkey house in Point-Noire. Fortunately, this batch got caught in quarantine over there. They immediately killed all the monkeys in containment, infected or not," Ben explained. “Kinda shame though. Would’ve loved to have a live infected monkey, you know? Just to study.”
“They would’ve been dead by the time they got here,” Jared said.
“I know, but still,” Ben looked wistfully sad at the thought of missing out on the chance of handling a crazed mammal sporting razor-sharp teeth and claws, and loaded with hemorrhagic fever.
“Why are you leaving?” Jensen asked. “You don’t sound like you want to.”
“My wife,” Ben explained. “We played poker and I lost.”
“Poker?” Jensen echoed.
“Long ass story,” Jared said. “C’mon, let’s continue the tour.”
Jared made sure Jensen was educated in all the major equipment and how top-of-the-line they were. Like the rest of the place, Jared and Samantha made sure every dollar was stretched to the fullest. It took almost an hour for Jensen to become fully acquainted with the inner bowels of Jared’s fiefdom. It would've taken significantly less time but Jensen unleashed a torrent of questions that took Jared by surprise and pretty much kept him busy for the majority of the tour.
The two men exited, leaving behind Ben who was still working on the Marburg samples. Jensen remained quiet and thoughtful as they got dressed in their civis.
“Any questions?” Jared asked nervously. By this time most interviewees were babbling quite a bit, mostly about what they had just seen.
“How much interference do you get from the government and the military?”
Jared winced; he was hoping he wouldn’t have to face that question until he had won Jensen over.
“By your reluctance to answer I’m guessing quite a bit,” Jensen deadpanned as Jared struggled to formulate the best reply possible.
“Let’s go to my office.”
Jared pulled out two cans of cold soda from a small fridge and offered one to Jensen who took it. Being in a space suit for any length of time can be exhausting and leave a person craving for a sugar hit. Jared sat on his oversized armchair and studied Jensen who had an inscrutable look on his face.
“I wish I could say I have free reign over everything but that’s just bullshit. You know there are only four labs equipped to deal with Level Four contagions in the U.S. and there’s a reason why the number is so low. The truth of the matter is the USAMRIID has full access to both my lab and my work.”
“So they could shut you down tomorrow and you have no say in it?”
“No, it’s not like that,” Jared said. “Look, after September 11, everyone’s paranoid there’s going to be bio-terrorism. The current thinking is that it’s inevitable.”
“That’s not what the papers are saying.”
“What the DC spin doctors tell the media and what we’re told are two completely separate things.” Jared saw Jensen's posture suddenly tense up. “Bio-terrorism is inevitable, Jensen. It’s cheap, it’s portable, and it sure as hell makes a statement. So, sooner or later somebody’s going to use it on us. The trick is to make sure it has the least impact possible.”
“So you guys are working on the silver bullet?”
“Of sorts,” Jared said. “The reason why I offered you a position is because of your expertise in the field of RNA research. Like you said, DNA has the glam factor built into it, but in the end, if we’re to survive viruses engineered for bio-terrorism, then it’s going to be the RNA work you do which will give us the key. You’ve also delved into the world of the hemorrhagic fever and these puppies have something else working for them: immune suppressing abilities. That makes them extra special.
“But you already know that, don’t you?”
Jensen nodded and took a long sip of his coffee. “I do. I wish I could say I was surprised but that would lying. Yeah, I chose hemorrhagic fever because of that factor. It makes them that much more frightening.”
“And yet here you are, looking to get closer.”
“Momma always said I didn’t have much in the way of self-preservation.”
“Look, I don’t know what Pfizer or Bayer or Merck is offering, but I do know everything they get is second-hand. We get first dibs. We get to go out and play with the real thing while they’re screwing around with frozen specimens. The best they can do is file for a look-see at our results. But us? We get to fly in and build it from the ground up, right where the shit hit the fan. For a lot of people, no matter how well trained or how earnest, this is scarier than they can deal with. And I can understand that: what we have in our cooling tanks could scare Pentagon into crying for their mothers.
“But there are few of us who love nothing better than to wade into that nightmare. We can’t wait to get that call and I know everyone in my lab has a suitcase packed because they don’t want to waste a second when the phone rings.”
“How often does that phone ring?” Jensen asked.
“I can’t tell you,” Jared said. “That’s classified.”
“More than what I read in the New York Times?”
“More than what you read in Science.”
“So if I join your lab, do I get to go?”
“First call, you’ll be flying out with me.”
“And with the C.D.C and the USAMRIID?”
“C.D.C., yes. USAMRIID - not so often because their job specifies that they deal with threats within United States.”
“But I’m guessing they’re invited.”
“Yeah, few of their top dogs go along, but don’t worry about them: they’re very good at what they do and I like the fact they come along. It’s always better when you work with someone you can trust.”
“You make them sound like they’re not part of the military.”
“In a way they’re not,” Jared said. “It’s more like the military is a part of them. If you saw them on the streets, you wouldn’t know they have ranking within the Army. Seriously, they look more like Jimmy Buffet than General Patton.”
“I’ve met one,” Jensen said. “And yeah, he does have more than a passing resemblance to Jimmy Buffet.”
“You must mean Doc Sorenson. Crazy bastard.”
“Did he really shoot his own foot?”
“No, he did however shoot his boots which he was wearing at the time.” Jared shook his head with amusement. “He was having delusions brought on by a fever. We were just grateful he didn’t shoot anyone else. The man’s got damn good aim.
“I have to ask, why are you so down on the military?”
Jensen shrugged and looked at the empty cup in his hands. “Men who go to bed with guns make me nervous.”
“You do realize what you do for a living, right?”
“I guess it is a double standard,” Jensen admitted cheerfully. “As long as you don’t have problem with them, I can’t see why I will.”
“And I never have,” Jared said firmly. “So, where do you want to go for dinner? I want to properly wine-n-dine you. That way, you'll at least consider my modest sales pitch."
“You don’t have reservations?” Jensen asked.
“Nope, and I don’t have an admin to make it for me either because of my work. Anyway, I wanted to wait and see what you wanted to eat.”
“I heard the Brazilian barbeque is great in DC.”
“It’s fantastic. And I know just the place. Let me make the call now so we can get a decent table.”
Jared was very familiar with the restaurant as he often took his team there for celebrations. The hostess guaranteed a good table and also promised to keep a nice bottle of red wine for their arrival. He noticed Jensen’s disinterest in the conversation as the man was completely absorbed by Jared’s trophy wall. It was littered with newspaper clips, awards, degrees, and various handwritten thank-you notes from some of the most powerful people in the world.
“You make it personal too,” Jensen said as soon as Jared finished the call.
“What do you mean?” Jared asked, knowing his pretense at innocence wouldn’t fool Jensen one bit.
“You made my passion for my work sound like a risk earlier,” Jensen said.
“Your passion for your work isn’t a risk. Allowing that feeling to surface is.”
“I see,” Jensen said. “Do you ever plan to go into the private sector?”
“Only after I retire from here, probably as a consultant.” Jared knew that wouldn’t happen for a decade at least. “Besides, for all I know I might not make it out of here alive today, so I don’t plan that far ahead.
“Do you?”
“Actually, yes, I do,” Jensen said.
“Really? Why bother?”
“I like planning,” Jensen answered. “I like thinking ahead. Even when I work. I mentally run through all my movements to make sure I don’t do something stupid and break a fifteen-million dollar equipment.”
“That sounds pretty smart, actually,” Jared said. “But you know that doesn’t work in the field, right?”
“I am aware,” Jensen said dryly. “By the way, what happened to the second lab tech?”
“Sandy McCoy is on leave." Jared's bland answer seemed to only perk Jensen's interest.
“Is she sick?”
“No, taking some personal time,” Jared said. “Which is yet another reason why I’m looking for someone.”
“Jared, exactly how many positions are open right now?”
“One.”
“And in the near future?”
“Hopefully just one,” Jared answered.
“But you’re not sure.”
Jared knew he was in great danger of losing Jensen right then and there. Losing one personnel to a better job offer was understandable; losing two at the same time is not. It smacked of sloppy decision-making and bad supervision, especially in a lab as small as his.
“You can’t tell anyone, is that understood?” Jared said firmly. “If I find out you blabbed, I’ll ruin you.”
“Jesus, if it’s that bad…”
“She’s pregnant.”
Jensen took in a deep breath. “Okay, well, yeah.”
The two men were more than familiar with what the Ebola virus could do to a pregnant woman and her fetus. The photographic evidence from such previous microbreaks were uniformly horrific enough that not even the hardiest of plague hunters would voluntarily work in the blood-pit that was once a maternity ward.
“So, we talked about it and she decided she’ll step aside for a while. At least until the pregnancy is over.”
“I can’t blame her,” Jensen said. “If I was her husband I’d be begging for her to take some time off from the lab.”
“Thanks for understanding,” Jared said. “You know how people get with pregnant women and work like ours.”
The prejudices against women in their field were enormous: stir in pregnancy and it became medieval.
“So, how about the rest of the place?”
“You’ll love this,” Jared said. “We have an observatory at the top of the building.”
“Are you serious?”
“Nope, the Navy had it built for reasons I never understood. C’mon, let me show it to you.”
Jared was glad the conversation was steered away from Sandy and her baby as his conscience made itself known when he lied to Jensen. He reminded himself to call her later in the evening, to see if she had forgiven him yet. He knew bullying her into taking the time off was a bad idea, but the thought of her risking her life and that of the baby was unbearable to him. Especially since neither of them was sure if the baby was his or her husband’s.
Part III * Part V
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 Five - Part II
Jensen quietly watched Jared. At first glance, the news of Jeff’s condition didn’t seem to affect him in the least, but Jensen knew better. He saw the small ticks of clumsiness as Jared shuffled about.
"What do you need me to do?"
“Nothing, I'm good,” Jared said, then politely added, "thanks for asking."
“Jared...”
Jared’s jawline tensed. “I can do the work without fucking it up, so don’t worry about it.”
“You keep staring at the printer. Chad hasn’t hooked it up yet, remember?”
Jared deflated and sank into a chair. "Fuck!"
Jensen closed the door and pulled down the shades so they could have absolute privacy. He dragged a chair next to Jared and sat down. “The surgeon said it was a miracle Jeff even survived the impact. And he's a strong guy. There's a good chance he could pull through."
Jared shielded his eyes with his hands, but he nodded silently in agreement. It was only a moment before he looked up, his eyes filled with tears. “He's my brother, Jensen. He's my big brother. Jesus Christ...”
Jensen dragged Jared into his embrace, holding on to the bigger man as Jared quaked with unchecked sobs, crying out for a brother who might, at any moment, be forever out of reach.
Benjamin Adams was packing his briefcase for the last time. His wife, Sheryl, called him earlier on their private cell and told him she had found a way through the blockade. A friend of hers had a boat and with a hefty bribe, they could all be in international waters before morning.
With trembling hands Adams turned off his laptop. He looked around the sumptuous office and wondered how everything could have turned to shit so fast.
“Mr. Adams.”
The smooth, deep voice interrupted Adams’ baleful musings. He looked up to see a large African American man standing in the doorway.
“Who are you? And how did you get in?”
“That doesn’t matter, really. And my name is Dr. Sterling Brown.”
“I’m sorry, do you work for me? If you do, please reschedule our meeting because I have to go home. There’s a family emergency.”
“Not anymore,” Dr. Brown said with a polite smile. “Sheryl’s been detained. Her friends, Mr. and Mrs. Haggstroms weren’t so fortunate.”
“What do you mean?” Adams asked, feeling the suddenly light-headed.
“They tried to evade capture,” Dr. Brown replied. “And ended up smashing their car into a divider on the 405. Neither of them were wearing seatbelts.”
“Dear God,” Adams said. “Who the hell are you?”
“You know my name. I work for Department of Homeland Security.”
“The President has declared martial law?”
“As of two this afternoon.” Brown took a quick glance at Adams' briefcase still resting on his desk. “Please come with us.”
“What about my staff?”
“They’re being processed as we speak. I think most of them will be released by tomorrow.”
“Schillings?”
Brown's gaze sharpened. “You haven’t heard?”
Adams shook his head, feeling numbness saw into his bones.
“Joshua Schillings committed suicide this afternoon, after killing his wife. It looks like he used poison.”
As Adams was shepherded into a waiting SUV he couldn’t help but feel envy towards his old friend. At least Joshua got to die in Susanne’s arms. Adams knew he wouldn’t be as lucky.
Chad shook his head as he read the latest bulletin. Giving a low whistle he passed the info to Morgan. “Jeff, take a look at this.”
Jeff read the news and shook his head. “Man, it’s a bad day to be a board member on Ignatius.”
“Fatal,” Chad remarked. “So, what do you think about the martial law?”
“Honestly? I don’t know. The ones I’ve been under were pretty fucking bad.”
“But that’s like in Africa, right?”
“Africa, Middle East. Hell, South Korea for couple of weeks when SARS hit,” Jeff said. “Just because we practice democracy doesn’t mean we don’t know how to be tyrants.”
“Hey, we’re looking for Jensen?”
Chad saw two strangers and blinked. For a moment, he thought he was seeing twins. But, after a long look, he realized his initial impression was wrong: the men were only dressed similarly, right down to the worn cowboy boots and straw hats.
“Dude, sorry to say the bar is closed,” Chad said and winced. He’d been warned more than once his mouth would land him in a heap of trouble, or worse.
The one with a deeper tan grinned. “We know. We tried looking earlier: Bellevue’s pretty dry town. Name’s Steve Carlson, by the way. And this is Chris Kane. We’re with Jensen’s team.”
“You mean Miller’s,” Jeff corrected smoothly.
“Nope, Jensen's,” Chris drawled easily. “Miller’s team is stuck in England. They can’t get over here on the account of how there isn’t a fucking plane in the air.”
“Okay,” Chad said quickly, hoping to get the conversation under some kind of control. “We weren’t told about any additional help.”
Chris sighed and took off his hat. He turned to Steve and said, “What the fuck, man?!”
“Look, Jensen said he’d probably need us…”
“Probably?” Chris barked. “You woke me up at ass o’clock in the morning, forced me to drive for fourteen hours straight and play hide-n-seek with bunch of testosterone-poisoned super soldiers just because you got a case of the mother-hen?!”
“I thought I heard familiar voices,” Jensen said as he strolled in behind them. “Man, it’s damn good to see you, but what are you doing here?”
Chris smacked Steve on the back of his head hard enough to dislodge the man’s hat.
“Who are these guys?” Jeff finally asked, more amused than annoyed now that he’d witnessed the friendly banter between the three men.
“This is Chris Kane, Steve Carlson,” Jensen said, pointing out to the two men. “They sometimes work with me and Wentworth when we’re abroad and in need of help.”
“What kind of help?” Chad asked.
“The kind that involves dealing with unfriendly parties who need persuading,” Steve said in a calm voice.
“So, you punch people for a living?” Once more Chad wondered what in hell happened to the checkpoint guard between his tongue and his brain.
Chris’ smile was broad and genuine. “Nah, we try to avoid doing that as much as possible. Steve here has magic hands when it comes to driving. Damn luckiest guy I’ve ever met.”
“And you?” Jeff asked.
“I'm not afraid to fight.”
“He's telling the truth,” Jensen said. “How’d you get in here anyway? None of you have clearance for this assignment.”
Steve smiled and shrugged. Chris coughed and said, “We called Gabe.”
“Oh, fuck me,” Jensen hissed. “Don’t tell me you dragged him into this. He's in enough trouble already!”
“Look, the guy was shitting in his pants. We all were, you know. One moment you’re in England being all hoity-toity, and the next thing we know you’re back in the States and in the middle of this hellhole!”
Steve looked at Jensen then lightly added, "We were worried, basically.”
“Fuck off,” Chris said. “So, yeah, we contacted G-T and he got us through security.”
“Wait a minute,” Chad said. “G-T as in Gabe Tigerman?”
Morgan’s face clouded with confusion. “Why do I know that name?”
“Dude, he’s the guy who pulled off that funny shit on Bill Gates during Microsoft’s annual board meeting.”
“Oh hell,” Jeff said before his face exploded into a wide grin. “The gay porn guy? I saw that on Youtube. The man’s a genius.”
Jensen shook his head in wonder. He’d never thought Gabe would go down in history as the man who pointed out the faults in the so-called Mojave Experiment using gay porn from Germany. It was six minutes of complete humiliation for Bill Gates which ended in Tigerman being exiled from the States.
“So, he’s still in Croatia?” Chad asked.
Jensen nodded. “Yeah, and his girlfriend joined him couple of months ago.”
“That dude takes disgruntled employee routine to a whole new level,” Chad said with a smirk.
“So, do you need us to do anything, Jen?” Chris asked.
“Maybe, I don’t know if you know this or not but the city of Seattle is under martial law.”
“Yeah, we just heard it on the radio,” Steve said. “Sounds bad, but it was something you expected, right?”
Jensen shrugged carelessly but he knew his friends could read the tension in the movement. “It’s the same old shit as everywhere else. Just because we’re home doesn’t mean things are different.”
Chris elbowed Steve and said, “See? I told you.”
Steve gave an exasperated sigh and for the first time revealed his temper. “There was no way we were going to get into the city with firearms tucked into our belts.”
“You guys carry weapons?” Jeff asked.
“Sometimes,” Steve said. “Depending on the situation and the culture. Most of the places we go, they expect men, especially American men, to be armed. So, we have little choice but to have one. It looks bad if we don’t.”
“Sounds like the same old shit, all right,” Jeff said then noticed the puzzled look on the men’s faces. “I use to be in the same boat as you two, at least until my right knee took a vacation and never came back.”
Wentworth entered the room, saw Steve and Chris and said, “I thought you’d be here sooner.”
Chris rolled his eyes. “Nice to see you to, Wenny.”
“Stop calling me that,” Wentworth said lightly. “I just got a call from Department of Homeland Security. They’re sending people over to debrief us and review what we have.”
“They can’t talk to Jared,” Jensen said. “He just went to sleep.”
“What?” Wentworth asked.
“He didn’t get any sleep last night and with what happened to Jeff, I thought it’d be best if he took a break.”
“Can you wake him?”
“No, I gave him a strong sedative. He’s going to be out for at least four hours.”
“Well, I guess we’ll have to do without him,” Wentworth said. “Mr. Murray, please get proper identifications for the tornado twins. It won’t do to have a security breach being paraded in front of Homeland when they get here.”
“Will do,” Chad said.
Wentworth turned to Jensen and said, “Could I have a word?”
“Sure.”
Jeff watched the two men leave the room. “I don’t get it.”
“Get what?” Chad asked.
“Nothing,” Jeff mumbled before turning his attention to Jensen’s friends. “So how did you two meet?”
“I married his sister,” Chris said.
Steve nodded. “Then she realized what a big fucking mistake that was and divorced him. But we kinda gotten used to each other by then so we stayed friends.”
“Emily’s still ticked off as hell about that.” Chris looked at Steve and gave a careless shrug. “Not that he cares.”
“She’s a grown woman, which is why I let her marry this asshole in the first place. Just fair for her to give me the same respect.”
“You two are insane, you know that, right?” Chad said. “Like Loco Choco crazy. No wonder you’re into this stuff.”
Chris wriggled his fingers and said, “Any chance we’ll get the IDs before Homeland comes knocking?”
Chad gave a small bounce on his chair and said, “Two tier-three clearance IDs coming right up.”
Steve looked at Jeff and said, “Got a shower I could use? I need to clean up and look decent if Washington is descending on us. Wouldn’t want them to think there’s bunch of rednecks running the place.”
Jeff pointed to a hallway. “Let me show you our emergency bunker system.”
“Oh God, Jensen had one of those made up here too?” Steve asked.
“No, actually, Jared did.” Jeff noticed his companion stiffen visibly at the name but tactfully didn’t ask why. He figured since Steve was Jensen's friend, he must have seen the emotional fallout when the two broke up.
“What happened to Jeff?” Steve asked softly as Morgan herded him down the hall.
“He was in a car accident earlier today.”
“Jesus Christ,” Steve said. “I met him couple of times: real uptight but a good guy. Jensen liked him a lot. Was he heavily involved with this operation?”
Jeff shook his head. “No, thank God. But he used to work for Ignatius Pharmaceuticals, which is where all this started by the way.”
“Yeah, we got that much from CNN,” Steve said. “What the fuck were they doing messing with this shit? After what happened in Reston I’d thought there would be a ban on the stuff.”
“There is a ban but it didn’t stop them from dipping into the poisoned well," Jeff said as he opened the door at the end of the corridor and turned on the lights. The room was compact, with four beds, all bunker-styled. He pointed to the door on the left. “The showers and the toilets are there.”
“I’ll be done in ten.”
Jeff slowly made his way back to the front office to find Chris filling out forms. Chad gave a wide-eyed glance at him before returning to his computer. Jeff knew he’d found something about Jensen’s friends but wasn’t willing to talk about it in front of them. It took Chris few minutes before he was finished with the paperwork. Jeff pointed out where his friend went and Chris ambled away.
Chad waited for full thirty seconds before speaking. “Dude, they already had first-tier clearance.”
“What? From whom?”
“C.D.C. and the Department of Health. When I tried to clear them for this, I got a call from both of them, ordering me to give those two hicks full access,” Chad said. “I don’t remember meeting them when Jensen worked with us.”
“That’s probably because Jared didn’t like their company much.”
“What do you mean?” Chad belligerently asked.
“I know Jared is your best friend, but the guy had issues when it came to Jensen. Especially when it came to Jensen and his male friends.”
Chad deflated immediately. “Yeah, I know. I just wish Jared clued in on earlier about Jensen.”
“You mean him tomcatting behind Jensen’s back?”
Chad nodded and rubbed his forehead with his fingers - a definite sign of exhaustion and frustration. “I’ve never seen Jared take to anyone before, you know? So I didn’t think he’d fuck around, but when I found out…”
“Did you tell him to stop?”
Chad nodded. “Oh yeah, and he promised each time he would: scout’s honor and everything. I don’t get why he didn’t stop. He knew Jensen would walk if he found out he was being screwed over.”
“Maybe that’s why he did it.” Jeff looked contemplative. “Some people just don’t know what to do when they finally have what they want.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“It means Jared belongs to the unlucky few who has to fuck up first before getting it right.”
Chad rolled his eyes and chuffed, “Whatever.”
“What do you think?”
Chad looked nervously around the room to make sure he wasn’t being overheard. “I think Jared’s going out of his mind. The dumbass is finally getting a clue and there’s nothing he can do except sit back and watch. He hates that, you know: not being able to do something.”
“Maybe it’s not too late.”
“I was hoping for the same damn thing.”
“Then why are you so hostile with Jensen?”
“Jared’s my boy. Simple as that.”
“You’re not so big a dick as people say, Murray.”
“Like I give a fuck what people think about me. I do my job, I get paid, and I keep what friends I have. I think that makes me a smart bastard compared to most of the human race.”
Jeff gave a friendly thump on Chad’s back. “It does but don’t be so smug about it.”
“Dude, we got company.” Chad pointed at the bank of video screens.
“Looks like the Feds,” Jeff said.
“FBI?” Chad asked.
“No, suit’s too expensive,” Jeff answered. “Maybe Homeland?”
“Well, we’re about to find out.”
Jeff stood up and Chad followed as the tall, athletic, black man entered the room. He looked around the room once, spotting the two but said nothing until he was done mentally cataloging everything.
“Hello, my name is Sterling Brown,” he said. “I’m here to talk to Dr. Padalecki and Dr. Ackles.”
“I can get Dr. Ackles right now but Jar … Dr. Padalecki is unavailable.” Chad paged Jensen. “Dr. Padalecki just received the news about his brother and had to take a breather.”
“What kind of breather?” Brown asked casually.
“The kind that involves sleep,” Jeff answered gruffly. “The man’s been running on gas for a while now. We all have.”
“Understood,” Sterling said.
“Hello,” Jensen said as he hurried into the room. “I’m Dr. Ackles.”
“Dr. Sterling Brown.”
“Which department are you from exactly?” Jeff asked. “You never said.”
“Homeland Security,” Brown answered. “Here are my credentials.”
Chad took the IDs and checked them. It took him less than a minute to confirm then clear Brown for all security levels.
“If you’d follow me, I have an office we can use.”
Brown followed Jensen without a glance back. Jeff gave a low whistle only after he was sure the Homeland Security agent couldn’t hear him.
“Wow, that’s one cold bastard,” Jeff said.
“You think?” Chad added sarcastically. “By the way, what does this mean?”
Jeff looked at the computer screen and saw the initial ‘M’ next to Brown’s ID number. He frowned and scrolled down to see if there was a reference. He found none.
“I have no idea,” he said.
“I never seen it before,” Chad said.
“Why don’t you find Chris or Steve? Maybe they have an idea.”
“It’s not important; I was just curious.”
“No, find out,” Jeff insisted. “I want to know about as much as possible when it comes to outsiders.”
“Man, you really are paranoid, aren’t you?”
“Paranoid, yes. Stupid? No. Find out what that ‘M’ stands for.”
Jensen closed the door behind him and waited until the visitor was comfortable in his chair before sitting down.
“So, what’s this about? I thought we had the all-clearance to establish HQ here.”
“Oh, you did. It’s just that there’s been a second review after Dr. Jeffrey Padalecki’s unfortunate accident. Not to mention Alice Dunrea’s suicide. People are asking very hard questions in DC, and we want to make sure all our answers will face up to scrutiny.”
“Why are you really here?”
Neither Brown’s posture nor his tone changed. “As I’ve said…”
“I know who you really work for.” Jensen opened his messenger bag and pulled out an ordinary brown folder that had a purple strip running across the entire front face.
“Where did you get that?” Brown asked, sounding completely unfazed by Jensen's declaration.
“You’d be amazed what people are willing to cough up when their dicks are on the chopping block,” Jensen answered. “I am well aware that my work’s been hacked while I was in California. When I found out someone’s been downloading my files on the sly, I added a virus. One that allows me to have access to whomever was monitoring my work. So, as they were spying on me, I was doing the same to them.
“After I left UCSD, I decided to keep quiet and wait until I needed to use the intel. I was amazed by the number of high-ranking officers in the Pentagon and in the Senate who were willing to utilize stolen work for their own gain. I am even more amazed by the private shit they store in their personal laptops. Trust me, Dr. Brown, I’m not someone you want to fuck with. Not here and definitely not under these particular circumstances.
“So, I’ll ask again: why are you here?”
“Dr. Padalecki has come under suspicion.”
“Okay, I can accept that. But there’s more, isn’t there?”
“Dr. Miller’s involvement is also under review.”
“Why?”
“Because of his previous work with us.”
“With Homeland?”
“No, with Department of Defense.”
“He didn’t do…”
“Yes, he did, actually. He volunteered to go with the international health group that dealt with the outbreak in Uganda and was recruited there. He worked with the Department of Defense in 2001, studying the material gathered by the C.D.C..”
“What did he do, exactly?”
“He studied the bioengineering component of the Ebola virus. To see if he could genetically engineer the diseases into a bio-weapon.”
“That’s completely illegal, under international law…”
“To see if he could replicate what we already had in storage.”
“What?” Jensen whispered.
“The United States government currently has in its possession three bio-engineered strains of the Ebola virus: all weapon’s grade, all programmed to annihilate specific target groups in the human population.”
“That’s not possible,” Jensen argued. “We didn’t have the technology back then. Hell, we still don’t have it now!”
“That is not true, hasn’t been for nearly a decade,” Brown countered. “I think we should call Dr. Miller in before we discuss this any further.”
Jensen paged Wentworth who replied within the minute. When he came into the office Jensen immediately knew there was some truth to Brown’s story as Miller's complexion went pasty.
“Hello, Dr. Miller,” Brown said. “I see you haven’t been keeping your partner up-to-date with your background.”
Wentworth looked at Jensen with panicky eyes. “I saw no reason … I mean, I signed an official agreement with the government never to reveal my work with your department.”
“Of course, but I think Dr. Ackles should be told what he is exactly facing. Don’t you?”
“There’s nothing to indicate that the strain we have is genetically engineered,” Wentworth said. “I would have recognized it immediately as I’ve studied the three already in containment.”
“So, you’re sure this latest outbreak came from a natural reservoir and not manmade?” Brown asked.
“Of course not,” Wentworth said heatedly. “So far, all we know is that Dr. Coughlin and Dr. Jorgensen had been messing around with the virus for purposes of developing some immunity suppressants, but for what end we are still unsure. All we know is that the virus originated from their lab, but we still have to discover whether that vector was manmade or from an infected monkey.”
“How much data do you have to go through?” Brown asked.
“Not much, we are still working on the decoding,” Jensen answered. “Once we crack the cipher we should be able to read all their notes.”
“Dr. Coughlin kept electronic journals,” Wentworth said. “But they’re very limited in scope.”
“Could I see the cipher?”
Jensen turned to Wentworth who said, “I don’t see any reason why not. It’s not as if we can keep you away from them.”
Sterling watched the two men who took the lead. Even though there was palpable tension between them in the office, once they were outside the two once again fell into easy companionship. Sterling wondered if the rumors of their sexual liaison were true. He always believed Miller to be a cold fish and knew Ackles wasn’t the type to pursue a quarry as difficult as his boss. And that was the other thing: Miller was Ackles’ boss and Sterling was well aware of the affair between Padalecki and Ackles and how disastrous that turned out for all concerned.
Miller led Sterling into a room the size of a large broom closet. In it was a desk with a laptop and pads of paper.
Sterling looked around and noted the barren walls. “Is there a larger space I could use?”
“We have a desk in the main room, if you don’t mind keeping company with Chad and Jeff,” Jensen offered.
“No, not at all.”
Sterling took a deep breath of relief when he took an empty desk in the brightly lit room. Though he didn’t suffer from claustrophobia, the glorified janitor’s closet reminded him too much of his Bolivian prison cell he spent three months in. He used his own laptop to start writing out permutations that could break the encryption. After solid thirty minutes Sterling realized his approach was completely inappropriate.
They were working on one of the deadliest viruses known to mankind. They knew their work had to be kept secret but at the same time could they afford to create an encryption so complicated that should it need to be solved later by someone else, it would become an impossible challenge?
And, if not … what would they have done?
Sterling sat back and looked at the printout again.
Lose the complicated calculations, the various letter substitutions. What would Coughlin and Jorgensen have used? Something that would be harder than Caesar’s Shift but one that would be recognizable by their peers if they were forced to crack the encryption.
Sterling scrambled for a pen and paper. He knew he had it: the Vigenère Cipher. So, then, what would be the key?
Ebola? Jesus, it can’t be that simple.
He quickly sketched out the Vigenère table and began working. Within ten minutes he had the first paragraph decrypted. It was then Sterling knew both Coughlin and Jorgensen suspected they might not live long enough to see the end of their work. For a moment he allowed himself to feel pity.
Sterling looked at Chad and said, “Get Dr. Ackles and Dr. Miller. I broke the encryption.”
Wentworth managed to keep his peace until Brown was deposited on the desk of his choice. He knew from Jensen’s stillness that the man was furious. He watched his partner as the man made economical movements, adjusting the microscope before reading the slides.
“Would it help if I said I really didn’t think my past would have any influence on what we are doing now?”
“How the hell could it not?” Jensen asked, not bothering to look up from his scope. “You let me believe that there was no way this thing could be manmade. But what really yanks my balls is the fact we wasted an entire day chasing down something you already knew. Jesus! What the hell were you thinking?”
“Like I said earlier, I signed…”
“Fuck the contract!” Jensen looked at Wentworth with uncontrollable fury. “People are dying! They’re literally drowning in their blood and you’re going on about paperwork? What the fuck?”
“You have to calm down, Jensen. You can’t work properly if you’re this upset.”
“Upset doesn’t even begin to fucking cover it, Went.” Jensen took a cursory glance at the scope. “In fact, I think I’m camped right now in the land of fucking pissed.”
Wentworth frowned. Jensen’s tirade tapered off at the end and he didn’t believe it was because Jensen had run out of steam.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Take a look at this,” Jensen said.
Wentworth looked at the slide. “What is this?”
“It’s from a blood work done on patient from grid K-11.”
“I don’t get … that can’t be.”
“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking,” Jensen said. “The cells should be destroyed. In fact, they should be teeming with the filovirus by now.”
“Where’s the crystallization? Maybe we have a tainted sample?”
“Maybe,” Jensen muttered. “Let’s see another slide.”
Jensen placed a new one. “This is from grid B-8.”
Wentworth looked at it. “I see crystallization, the … wait, this one isn’t right either. When was this patient hospitalized?”
“Yesterday morning.”
“And the other one?”
“The day before, 14:20 to be exact.”
Wentworth looked at the slides again. “Neither of them is showing the infection rate they should be. Like you said, these cells should be completely obliterated by now.”
“Let me get the rest.”
The two men silently divided the work between them and began methodically scanning the slides.
“I’m going to have to wake up Jared,” Jensen said as he looked at the last one in his batch. “I’ve never seen anything like this. Have you?”
“No,” Wentworth replied. “Never in the field or in a lab, I swear.”
Before Jensen could say anything Wentworth’s cell chirped. It was a brief conversation. “That was Chad. Brown broke the encryption.”
“Of course he did,” Jensen said tiredly. “Okay, you talk to him, I’ll get Jared. Either we missed something or this is a whole new bag of hell we’re juggling.”
Wentworth quirked a smile at Jensen’s florid descriptions. “Good luck waking Padalecki up. I heard he can be a bear.”
“Thanks, I’ll need all the luck I can get.”
Jensen quietly entered the small room equipped with a bunkbed, a lamp and nothing else. He heard Jared snoring loudly and couldn’t help but smile at the brain-stabbing noise. He turned on the lamp to the lowest setting and peered at the sleeping man.
Jensen gently shook Jared and said, “Wake up. We need you.”
Jared made some incomprehensible noises and rolled onto his stomach. Jensen closed his eyes and sighed. He’d been through this enough times to know only one thing could wake the sleeping giant. He took off his right sneaker and swung it down with great force. It hit right between Jared’s shoulders with an almighty snap.
Jensen shouted, “Wake the fuck up!”
Jared opened one eye and hoarsely asked, “What?”
“We have visitors and I want you to look at the slides that just came in.”
“What the fuck? Did you go blind or something? Why do you need me to look at them?”
“Jared, get your lardy ass out of bed. We have Homeland Security breathing down our necks.”
“What about the slides?” Jared asked as he slowly sat up and flexed his shoulders. “That was a bit much, don’t you think?”
“I don’t think so. I remember the last time I tried to get you out of bed.”
“Not my fault you couldn’t duck fast enough.”
“Stitches, Jared. I had stitches. Anyway, get out of bed.”
Jared looked at his watch as he got dressed. “Hey, I had three hours of sleep. That’s gotta be a record for you.”
“What are you talking about?” Jensen asked. “I let you sleep.”
“No, you let me pass out.”
Jared barely managed to hide his smirk as Jensen’s ears turned brilliant red. Part of him wondered why he even bothered to bring up their past as a topic of conversation since Jensen seemed only too eager to never to discuss their love life even when they were sharing the same bed.
Jensen visibly stiffened as they approached the front part of the building. “I want to tell you something before we go in.”
Jared listened patiently as Jensen described what had happened while he was asleep. Part of him wanted to do nothing less than rip off Miller’s head but he knew the man had more than valid reasons for keeping his part of the Faustian bargain. He knew only too well what happened to researchers who were blacklisted by the government. Their fields depended on material and information given by the United States military. Without their full cooperation nobody could last long in the business of hunting down the Ebola virus.
“So, you know this Dr. Brown guy?” he asked.
“Not really, but I do know Homeland Security isn’t the only one he reports to. In fact, I think that’s just part of his cover.”
“What do you mean?”
“After the Anthrax scare few years ago, I noticed people started showing up across the States, questioning labs about their source material and research. They said they were from Homeland but I know some of the directors who were questioned didn’t believe them.”
“Why?” Jared asked.
“Because the directors called up their counterparts in C.D.C. and Homeland, and they didn’t have a clue about the sweeps that were happening.”
“That could just be interdepartmental bullshit. Happens all the time.”
“Yeah, but think about it, Jared. Anthrax - you’d have the FBI, the C.D.C., the Army, Homeland, hell, maybe even the U.S. Marshals, all trying to stake their claim. Instead, you only have one agency showing up? Doesn’t that sound like too much cooperation? Especially if you think about the Army’s stake in it.”
Jared thoughtfully looked at Jensen. “You think there’s an unidentified party involved?”
“That’s exactly what I think.”
“When would this administration have been formed? And why weren’t any of us informed about it? There’s only a handful of people who are familiar with Level Four contagions, and if none of us have been invited to join…”
“Who said we weren’t invited?” Jensen asked.
“Are you talking about Miller?”
“No, I’m talking about Coughlin and Jorgensen.”
“Jensen, do you have any idea what you’re saying? You’re accusing the U.S. government of starting this!”
“Somebody gave them the virus. Somebody gave them the technology. If we take Ignatius out of the equation, then who’s left?”
“But then why won’t they…”
“That’s why Brown’s here,” Jensen said. “He’s here not just to see what we’re doing, but what we need.”
“If that’s true then we’re either very screwed or…”
“We have a golden opportunity to find out exactly how big a FUBAR this entire situation really is.”
“Okay, so how do you want to play this?”
“Like couple of blind mice,” Jensen said. “I want to see what they do.”
“If there is a ‘they’ to begin with,” Jared said.
“Either way, it won’t hurt.”
“No, guess not,” Jared said. “Man, I hate doing this shit while working.”
Jensen’s smile was brilliant and for a moment Jared let himself fall into it. He had forgotten how clever and manipulative Jensen could be when backed into a corner and forced into a confrontation.
Jared paused for a moment when he entered the front office. He knew who Dr. Brown was, but when he had known the man, it was Colonel Brown, not doctor. Suddenly he understood where he stood in this battle, and it wasn’t with Jensen.
May 2003
Easton, Maryland, sixty minutes outside of DC
Jared watched with trepidation as Jensen got out of the taxi. He knew Jensen would be more than suitably impressed with his lab, but the ex-Californian had more than few contracts being thrown at his feet and all of them had impressive dollar signs, something Jared seriously lacked. He could offer comparative salary in the academic arena, but the amount was nowhere near the high six-figures that the various pharmaceuticals were offering.
Jensen caught sight of him and smiled. Jared took a deep breath for preparation and strolled out into the hot sun. “Welcome to Easton, or shall I say welcome back since you went to Georgetown.”
“I’d forgotten how humid it could get here.”
“Hey, we’re near the coast so you could go for a dip if you want to.”
Jensen made a face. “Have you seen the pollution?”
Jared shook his head. “Not really. I have to admit I’ve been too busy with work to do much of anything outside the office.”
“Sounds about right,” Jensen said.
“Okay, so here are your clearance IDs but you have to have an escort at all times once you’re on my floor: there’s no going around that since I have live samples.”
“I still can’t believe that.” Jensen’s voice was subdued with awe. “I have only worked with live samples in Atlanta.”
“Hey, one of the perks of being near DC,” Jared said with a smile. “C’mon, let’s grab coffee and I’ll give you the grand tour.”
Jared was particularly proud of the cafeteria as it served very good food and even better coffee. It was partially due to the fact that the Senate Appropriation Committee had a healthy appreciation of the fact that the people who worked with deadly contagions should not be hungry or caffeine-deprived.
Jensen made appreciative noises as he slugged down his coffee and some organic bran muffin that, to Jared, looked like it came out of the wrong end of an Ent.
Jensen caught him staring and asked, “What?”
“How can you possibly drink that much coffee without adding sugar or milk or something? And what the hell is in that muffin?”
“I had a friend who did a study on those artificial sweeteners. His results scared me witless.”
“Lab rats?”
“Had balls the size of rottweilers.”
“Okay, that sounds mildly worrisome.”
“I’m kidding,” Jensen said, quirking a grin. “But, seriously, that stuff’s horrible for you.”
“I don’t have the time to spend worrying about Sweet n’Low when I’m juggling blood samples clogged with Zaire,” Jared said in a lofty tone.
“Well, not all of us are lucky as you.”
“I have to ask,” Jared said, “how did you get into this? From your CV it looks like you were slated to go into medical practice.”
Jensen hesitated only for a moment but Jared saw the reluctance. He belatedly realized the reason had to have been private and mentally kicked himself. After their meeting last year, Jared had tried diligently to find out about Jensen Ross Ackles, but the man was pretty much a mystery, even in UCSD where he worked.
“I had a fiancée,” Jensen said. “Danneel was her name. We met young, while I was in Georgetown. She wasn’t … well, she wasn’t like me, let’s just say. She could’ve had anyone but for some reason she chose to love me, and I am very difficult person to love. Work with? No. Respect? No. But love … that’s different.”
“What happened?”
“MRSA.”
“The treatments didn’t work?”
“No, the infection spread to her lungs,” Jensen whispered. “She went in for a broken arm and left in a coffin. I lost her in a week.”
“Jesus Christ. Where did it come from?”
“That was the thing. She was the only one who came down with it in that hospital. And they were too busy trying to cover their asses to figure out where and the why. By the time they got their act together it was too late to work back the infection and figure out the cause.
“That’s when I decided to go into infectious diseases.”
“Even so, you’re dealing with the deadliest of them all. Why Ebola?”
“Because it is the deadliest. Because there is no cure. Because when it hits the ground, it leaves nothing but death at its wake.”
“You sound slightly suicidal, you know that?”
Jensen shook his head. “Not that. I spent my entire life coasting on my intelligence. You know what it’s like: people let you get away with murder when you’re a bona fide genius.”
Jared gave a crooked smile. “Yeah, I know.”
“Well, what’s the use of being a world-class brain-trust if you’re going to live in the safety zone? Why the hell did God give me a brain like mine if I can’t save people from things like MRSA or Ebola? Seriously, what’s the use of being a genius if you don’t use what’s been given to you to its utmost potential?
“I guess I hate lazy people.”
Jared threw back his head and laughed. “So you’re doing God’s work?” he asked when he got himself under control.
“Nothing so noble,” Jensen answered. He peeled off the coffee sleeve from the cup and began systematically tearing strips off of it. “I want to know how far I can be pushed. And I want to do the pushing myself. I’ve been in the lab too long, Jared. I want to know what it’s like when there’s no space suits or negative air pressure protecting me. I want to see … to have a chance at figuring out where this thing comes from and nuke it to hell.”
“You and few hundred people,” Jared said. “You know you’re going to be in the toughest, deadliest race of your life if you come aboard, right?”
“I know,” Jensen said. “I’ve met with Dr. Khan from Kikwit.”
“Good, I don’t want you go into this thinking it’s all glamour and Tomb Raider adventures.”
“That’s not what I want,” Jensen said. “What I want is a chance to fight outside the lab.”
“Having a temper will only get you to your grave faster,” Jared cautioned.
“So says the man who started how many brawls?”
“I see you’ve talked to some of my European colleagues,” Jared deadpanned. “I swear, one fistfight and they can’t help themselves.”
“From what I’ve heard it was more than just one fight.”
Jared cleared his throat. “If you’re done we can go down to my lab.”
Jensen’s face didn’t reveal a trace of amusement as they cleared their trays and entered the inner sanctum of a building designed to withstand a nuclear blast. Jared led him through a maze of checkpoints, all manned by armed Marines whose faces revealed neither recognition nor respect as they filtered through.
They reach a bank of elevators and Jared pointed to the one that’s jammed into a corner. He slid his ID through the reader and stepped back as the doors slammed open with a crash. Jensen winced at the noise but remained silent as the car suddenly plunged.
“We’re at the lowest basement level,” Jared said.
“Good to know,” Jensen said. “So, if there’s a containment breach?”
“The government won’t have to pay for our funerals. They’ll just erect one large gravestone over our heads and that’ll be the end of that.”
“Damn thing better be marble then.”
The elevator announced its arrival by slamming the doors open. Jared ushered Jensen through a dimly lit corridor. They went through two more checkpoints before stopping in front of an oversized door. Jensen touched it.
“It’s not wood,” he said. “Could've fooled me.”
Jared keyed in his passcode and stepped aside as the door slowly swung back. Jensen blinked as harsh light suddenly hit his eyes. The lighting difference between the rest of the floor and the lab was done on purpose, per Jared’s orders. Should any unauthorized personnel make it down this far, the sudden blindness would give the lab personnel few precious seconds to perform emergency lockdown procedure: a verbal shout which would trigger all the safety guards in sequential order until Jared, himself, gave the proper authorization to stop and reverse the process.
Jensen looked at the front office which held a bank of computers to the left and a glass wall to the right, which revealed an impressive collection of medical journals.
“The computers?” Jensen asked.
“They contain research material. The more sensitive intel is located in the rear.” Jared led them through another secured entrance to another large room which only held four desks, all equipped with the latest computers.
“This is where most of us work.”
“No private offices?” Jensen asked.
“No,” Jared answered.
“What about you?”
“I’m the only exception.”
“Of course,” Jensen said dryly. “Is there a reason why nobody else has privacy?”
“Because it can kill in a job I’m offering,” Jared said. “Look, when we’re out in the field, it’s pretty much guaranteed you’ll be pissing in full view of everyone. I transferred the same mentality here. No matter how bad your life is outside this floor, you can’t bring it in because if you do, you might just end up getting yourself killed, if you’re lucky. If you’re not: you can get a lot of other people killed.
“That’s unacceptable risk to me.”
“So where are your people?”
“Jeff Morgan, my chief field operator, is, unsurprisingly not in the lab. He spends most of his time chasing down leads, no matter how small. Chad Murray is my computer guy, and he’s not here probably because he’s catching a smoke. One of my two lab techs is already suited up. Want to see?”
“That’s what I came here for!”
Jared smiled at Jensen’s boyish enthusiasm. Even in their chosen profession very few people were eager to actually come face to face with the Ebola virus, even in a strictly controlled environment.
“By the way, you have to go through the entire decon process,” Jared said.
“I figured.”
Jared keyed the door to a locker room that, though was kept in a pristine condition, still managed to smell like one. Jared managed to sneak in two glances as Jensen casually stripped down to his briefs. He was surprised by how thin the man was. Because of his broad shoulders, Jensen looked physically imposing in a suit. But, in reality, he was thin and abnormally pale. Jared winced, thinking about how that fair skin will react to the tropical sun.
Jared opened the door to a barely-lit room. Other labs had multiple levels since they contain viruses from the most benign to some that are bio-warfare grade. In here, there was only one: Level Four, the highest designation, signifying that behind the sealed doors lay the deadliest contagions known to man.
It wasn’t until the door shut behind them and he heard the sound of air rushing in that Jared began speaking.
“We’re suiting up here.”
Jensen looked around the bare walls. “Where are they?”
As if to answer his questions, two lab suits descended from the ceiling. Jensen looked up and noted the mechanism rolling across, and the many space suits hanging by independent arms.
“Is this standard for MCLs?” he asked.
“No, this is new,” Jared said as he put on his suit. “Most maximum containment labs are still laboring under twentieth century technology. The CDC just spruced up theirs. I had mine built with the twenty-first century in mind.”
Jensen felt something bulky tapping against the thigh of his suit. He looked down and saw a roll of duct tape hanging from a string that was looped around the belt. “Twenty-first century?”
“Dude, don’t diss the tape. That stuff can save your life. Saved mine few times!”
“Where do I keep it?”
“Just take off few pieces and stick them on your calves or something. If your suit’s compromised in any way, the duct tape will do as a patch until we get you into containment.” Jared then demonstrated what to do. Jensen took no less than three pieces which he taped to various parts of his suit. The two men donned the boots, making sure the pants’ cuffs were tucked in tightly before putting on the gloves. They saved the helmets last as it was always momentarily disconcerting when the helmet was locked into position and outside noises were completely blocked out.
Jared showed Jensen where to turn on the comm before exiting the room. The two men stood in a small hallway while they were doused with a disinfectant mixture that smelled strongly of bleach. Then their personal oxygen circulators clicked on. There was a roar of air being sucked in as the door slid open to Jared’s lab. He heard Jensen’s quick intake of breath and knew the man was suitably impressed by the layout before him.
“I’m guessing you approve?”
“This is amazing,” Jensen said as they walked in. The two men had to move slowly and deliberately as they entered further into the lab.
“This is Ben Edlund,” Jared introduced a slight man who was hunched over a microscope. “The heartless bastard’s moving onto greener pastures.”
“Plug it, Padalecki,” Edlund groused, not even bothering to look up.
“Ben, this is Dr. Ackles.”
That got the man’s attention. Jensen saw a non-descript face made lively with bright, intelligent eyes.
“Oh, now I see why you’d want to hire him,” Ben cackled gleefully.
“Fuck you,” Jared said good-naturedly.
“No chance in hell, son.” Ben looked at Jensen with definite gleam in his eyes. “Want to see Marburg?”
“Hell yeah,” Jensen said, his voice filled with eagerness.
“Take a look.” Ben stepped aside.
Jensen cautiously approached the microscope, making sure his arms were fully at his side, thus avoiding any chance of knocking things off the table. He peered into the scope and saw the familiar string formation.
“Where did you get this?” Jensen asked.
“From a monkey house in Point-Noire. Fortunately, this batch got caught in quarantine over there. They immediately killed all the monkeys in containment, infected or not," Ben explained. “Kinda shame though. Would’ve loved to have a live infected monkey, you know? Just to study.”
“They would’ve been dead by the time they got here,” Jared said.
“I know, but still,” Ben looked wistfully sad at the thought of missing out on the chance of handling a crazed mammal sporting razor-sharp teeth and claws, and loaded with hemorrhagic fever.
“Why are you leaving?” Jensen asked. “You don’t sound like you want to.”
“My wife,” Ben explained. “We played poker and I lost.”
“Poker?” Jensen echoed.
“Long ass story,” Jared said. “C’mon, let’s continue the tour.”
Jared made sure Jensen was educated in all the major equipment and how top-of-the-line they were. Like the rest of the place, Jared and Samantha made sure every dollar was stretched to the fullest. It took almost an hour for Jensen to become fully acquainted with the inner bowels of Jared’s fiefdom. It would've taken significantly less time but Jensen unleashed a torrent of questions that took Jared by surprise and pretty much kept him busy for the majority of the tour.
The two men exited, leaving behind Ben who was still working on the Marburg samples. Jensen remained quiet and thoughtful as they got dressed in their civis.
“Any questions?” Jared asked nervously. By this time most interviewees were babbling quite a bit, mostly about what they had just seen.
“How much interference do you get from the government and the military?”
Jared winced; he was hoping he wouldn’t have to face that question until he had won Jensen over.
“By your reluctance to answer I’m guessing quite a bit,” Jensen deadpanned as Jared struggled to formulate the best reply possible.
“Let’s go to my office.”
Jared pulled out two cans of cold soda from a small fridge and offered one to Jensen who took it. Being in a space suit for any length of time can be exhausting and leave a person craving for a sugar hit. Jared sat on his oversized armchair and studied Jensen who had an inscrutable look on his face.
“I wish I could say I have free reign over everything but that’s just bullshit. You know there are only four labs equipped to deal with Level Four contagions in the U.S. and there’s a reason why the number is so low. The truth of the matter is the USAMRIID has full access to both my lab and my work.”
“So they could shut you down tomorrow and you have no say in it?”
“No, it’s not like that,” Jared said. “Look, after September 11, everyone’s paranoid there’s going to be bio-terrorism. The current thinking is that it’s inevitable.”
“That’s not what the papers are saying.”
“What the DC spin doctors tell the media and what we’re told are two completely separate things.” Jared saw Jensen's posture suddenly tense up. “Bio-terrorism is inevitable, Jensen. It’s cheap, it’s portable, and it sure as hell makes a statement. So, sooner or later somebody’s going to use it on us. The trick is to make sure it has the least impact possible.”
“So you guys are working on the silver bullet?”
“Of sorts,” Jared said. “The reason why I offered you a position is because of your expertise in the field of RNA research. Like you said, DNA has the glam factor built into it, but in the end, if we’re to survive viruses engineered for bio-terrorism, then it’s going to be the RNA work you do which will give us the key. You’ve also delved into the world of the hemorrhagic fever and these puppies have something else working for them: immune suppressing abilities. That makes them extra special.
“But you already know that, don’t you?”
Jensen nodded and took a long sip of his coffee. “I do. I wish I could say I was surprised but that would lying. Yeah, I chose hemorrhagic fever because of that factor. It makes them that much more frightening.”
“And yet here you are, looking to get closer.”
“Momma always said I didn’t have much in the way of self-preservation.”
“Look, I don’t know what Pfizer or Bayer or Merck is offering, but I do know everything they get is second-hand. We get first dibs. We get to go out and play with the real thing while they’re screwing around with frozen specimens. The best they can do is file for a look-see at our results. But us? We get to fly in and build it from the ground up, right where the shit hit the fan. For a lot of people, no matter how well trained or how earnest, this is scarier than they can deal with. And I can understand that: what we have in our cooling tanks could scare Pentagon into crying for their mothers.
“But there are few of us who love nothing better than to wade into that nightmare. We can’t wait to get that call and I know everyone in my lab has a suitcase packed because they don’t want to waste a second when the phone rings.”
“How often does that phone ring?” Jensen asked.
“I can’t tell you,” Jared said. “That’s classified.”
“More than what I read in the New York Times?”
“More than what you read in Science.”
“So if I join your lab, do I get to go?”
“First call, you’ll be flying out with me.”
“And with the C.D.C and the USAMRIID?”
“C.D.C., yes. USAMRIID - not so often because their job specifies that they deal with threats within United States.”
“But I’m guessing they’re invited.”
“Yeah, few of their top dogs go along, but don’t worry about them: they’re very good at what they do and I like the fact they come along. It’s always better when you work with someone you can trust.”
“You make them sound like they’re not part of the military.”
“In a way they’re not,” Jared said. “It’s more like the military is a part of them. If you saw them on the streets, you wouldn’t know they have ranking within the Army. Seriously, they look more like Jimmy Buffet than General Patton.”
“I’ve met one,” Jensen said. “And yeah, he does have more than a passing resemblance to Jimmy Buffet.”
“You must mean Doc Sorenson. Crazy bastard.”
“Did he really shoot his own foot?”
“No, he did however shoot his boots which he was wearing at the time.” Jared shook his head with amusement. “He was having delusions brought on by a fever. We were just grateful he didn’t shoot anyone else. The man’s got damn good aim.
“I have to ask, why are you so down on the military?”
Jensen shrugged and looked at the empty cup in his hands. “Men who go to bed with guns make me nervous.”
“You do realize what you do for a living, right?”
“I guess it is a double standard,” Jensen admitted cheerfully. “As long as you don’t have problem with them, I can’t see why I will.”
“And I never have,” Jared said firmly. “So, where do you want to go for dinner? I want to properly wine-n-dine you. That way, you'll at least consider my modest sales pitch."
“You don’t have reservations?” Jensen asked.
“Nope, and I don’t have an admin to make it for me either because of my work. Anyway, I wanted to wait and see what you wanted to eat.”
“I heard the Brazilian barbeque is great in DC.”
“It’s fantastic. And I know just the place. Let me make the call now so we can get a decent table.”
Jared was very familiar with the restaurant as he often took his team there for celebrations. The hostess guaranteed a good table and also promised to keep a nice bottle of red wine for their arrival. He noticed Jensen’s disinterest in the conversation as the man was completely absorbed by Jared’s trophy wall. It was littered with newspaper clips, awards, degrees, and various handwritten thank-you notes from some of the most powerful people in the world.
“You make it personal too,” Jensen said as soon as Jared finished the call.
“What do you mean?” Jared asked, knowing his pretense at innocence wouldn’t fool Jensen one bit.
“You made my passion for my work sound like a risk earlier,” Jensen said.
“Your passion for your work isn’t a risk. Allowing that feeling to surface is.”
“I see,” Jensen said. “Do you ever plan to go into the private sector?”
“Only after I retire from here, probably as a consultant.” Jared knew that wouldn’t happen for a decade at least. “Besides, for all I know I might not make it out of here alive today, so I don’t plan that far ahead.
“Do you?”
“Actually, yes, I do,” Jensen said.
“Really? Why bother?”
“I like planning,” Jensen answered. “I like thinking ahead. Even when I work. I mentally run through all my movements to make sure I don’t do something stupid and break a fifteen-million dollar equipment.”
“That sounds pretty smart, actually,” Jared said. “But you know that doesn’t work in the field, right?”
“I am aware,” Jensen said dryly. “By the way, what happened to the second lab tech?”
“Sandy McCoy is on leave." Jared's bland answer seemed to only perk Jensen's interest.
“Is she sick?”
“No, taking some personal time,” Jared said. “Which is yet another reason why I’m looking for someone.”
“Jared, exactly how many positions are open right now?”
“One.”
“And in the near future?”
“Hopefully just one,” Jared answered.
“But you’re not sure.”
Jared knew he was in great danger of losing Jensen right then and there. Losing one personnel to a better job offer was understandable; losing two at the same time is not. It smacked of sloppy decision-making and bad supervision, especially in a lab as small as his.
“You can’t tell anyone, is that understood?” Jared said firmly. “If I find out you blabbed, I’ll ruin you.”
“Jesus, if it’s that bad…”
“She’s pregnant.”
Jensen took in a deep breath. “Okay, well, yeah.”
The two men were more than familiar with what the Ebola virus could do to a pregnant woman and her fetus. The photographic evidence from such previous microbreaks were uniformly horrific enough that not even the hardiest of plague hunters would voluntarily work in the blood-pit that was once a maternity ward.
“So, we talked about it and she decided she’ll step aside for a while. At least until the pregnancy is over.”
“I can’t blame her,” Jensen said. “If I was her husband I’d be begging for her to take some time off from the lab.”
“Thanks for understanding,” Jared said. “You know how people get with pregnant women and work like ours.”
The prejudices against women in their field were enormous: stir in pregnancy and it became medieval.
“So, how about the rest of the place?”
“You’ll love this,” Jared said. “We have an observatory at the top of the building.”
“Are you serious?”
“Nope, the Navy had it built for reasons I never understood. C’mon, let me show it to you.”
Jared was glad the conversation was steered away from Sandy and her baby as his conscience made itself known when he lied to Jensen. He reminded himself to call her later in the evening, to see if she had forgiven him yet. He knew bullying her into taking the time off was a bad idea, but the thought of her risking her life and that of the baby was unbearable to him. Especially since neither of them was sure if the baby was his or her husband’s.
Part III * Part V