Encrypted: An Action-Packed Techno-Thriller Page 11

  “And if you weren’t waiting for Mother Nature?”

  Amanda looked at the new map that Jennifer displayed. Cases were springing up all over the country, Canada, and even Latin America. “Then you would be spreading the disease manually. Getting it onto as many airline passengers as you could and have it come on as quickly as it could...”

  She nodded for Jennifer to hit the fast-forward button again. Red shot out across the United States, infecting nearly every corner of it. “So that the plague would spread like wildfire.”

  “I understand how that would augment the exposure to the plague, but you said the bacterium itself was weaponized? That this plague was creating symptoms and death far quicker?”

  Amanda nodded for Jennifer to bring up the 1347 Yersinia pestis alongside the current plague. Her assistant had even colorized the protein markers—making the tremendous increase in them all the more stark.

  Devlin looked clueless, but by Henderson’s frown, he understood the implications all too well.

  “The increased protein markers are a huge red flag to the immune system,” Henderson said, although it seemed like it was more to himself than to anyone else.

  “Um,” Devlin said. “Isn’t that a good thing? The faster this plague is recognized the faster the body can fight it?”

  The director seemed lost in a world of his own, so Amanda answered. “Normally yes, but due to the ability of Yersenia pestis to invade and even kill the white cells, these markers are accelerating the plague’s ability to destroy the host’s immune system.”

  Everyone turned back to the screen.

  “This isn’t our ancestors’ plague,” Amanda stated as her assistant brought up a slide of U.S. patient zero’s neck—where a large, dark-stained boil already brewed under the skin. “This is a modern-day apocalypse.”

  Not even Devlin argued.

  CHAPTER 9

  U.S.–Mexican Border

  7:03 p.m., MST

  Zach stepped on the gas. They watched the sun go down as they wasted over an hour at the border. His generous three-hour buffer had been whittled down to barely an hour. And with this traffic? He would be lucky to make it to the rendezvous on time. Up ahead, a streetlight flashed red as car horns blared in the evening air. Zach felt his hands tighten on the wheel.

  Nearly three hours of rap would have tested his patience on a good day. But today? Yet another Nelly song came on. The pulsing rhythm did nothing to soothe his agitation. He was ready to punch Grant in the face and shove his body from the car, but that might give away the fact that he was a bit on edge.

  “Is that aftershave you’re wearing?”

  “Shut up.”

  “Dude, I am telling you. The chicks at this party won’t even require you to bathe.”

  Zach shook his head. “You are pathetic.”

  “I am telling you, man, that’s why your cousin is having the party on this side of the river. These whores, they’ll do anything you ever read in Hustler, and for dirt cheap.”

  “I’m so glad you are helping counteract that whole American pig tourist image we have,” Again, Zach regretted that tonight, of all nights, Grant had decided to tag along.

  Grant punched him in the shoulder. “No, dude. I was telling you this so you will relax. I know you’re shit with the ladies, but tonight, tonight, you are guaranteed a score!”

  If only Fifer knew what he was talking about.

  * * *

  “What did I tell you about frowning?” Quirk asked Ronnie as he elbowed a nice, little old Mexican grandmother out of their way, bringing them almost to the front of the plane. How long would it take to taxi and empty out a plane, anyway?

  “We’re going to be late,” Ronnie said, echoing Quirk’s internal impatience.

  But Quirk couldn’t let her know that he was just as worried as she was, so he tugged the edge of her dress to bring the V-neck down so it just kissed the top of her lace bra. “As we should be. Now think only neutral thoughts.”

  Ronnie didn’t quite smile at that, but at least she wasn’t frowning as the knot dispersed. Quickly, they made their way down the staircase to the tarmac. His boss was right, of course. They were going to be late, but Carson Kressley himself would pull the fashion laurels from Quirk’s head if he did not complete the ensemble.

  “Over here,” Quirk urged as he pulled away from the crowd rushing toward the gate. Once away from prying eyes and cell-phone cameras, he pulled out a pair of stilettos. “Put these on.”

  “No! Quirk, damn it, we’ve got to—”

  Before his boss could launch into an Aristotle-length diatribe about how late they were, Quirk pulled out the ultimate couture weapon. A mirror. But this was no ordinary mirror. He had obtained this precious object backstage from Versace himself. He unfolded it once, and then pulled out leaf after leaf until they interlocked into a nearly full-length mirror. The sight of herself dressed for a night out on the town shut Ronnie up in a big hurry. A hand flew to her lips in surprise.

  Quirk gently urged the appendage away from her face. “Now, now. We have to watch the lip liner.”

  * * *

  Zach gagged back a retch as they entered the “bar.” Brothel, landfill dump, or pig farm would also have been accurate descriptions. He had to avert his eyes more than once as strippers bounced their wares rather enthusiastically.

  “Zach! My man!” his cousin Skip slurred, as he stumbled over to him. “You came.”

  Not for you, Zach wanted to say, but didn’t want to ruin the sixth-time-to-the-altar buzz that Skip had going on.

  “And you brought an amigo!” his cousin shouted, even though he was standing all of two feet away.

  “He’s not my friend,” Zach stated, but the two were already in a BFF hug.

  Skip tried to draw them deeper into the debauchery. “Come and meet Consuela. She’ll do all three of us for twenty bucks!”

  Zach resisted the urge, which turned out not to be that difficult at all.

  Instead, he let his cousin relieve him of Grant and searched the bar for Ronnie. Of course, he had absolutely no idea what she looked like, but he didn’t think Ronnie was any of these washed up and dragged out “women,” though.

  Or at least he hoped not.

  * * *

  “Andale! Hurry!” Ronnie shouted as she hit the back of the taxi driver’s seat. She hated to be that American tourist, but exactly how long could it take to get across town?

  It must have been nearly eighty degrees, and even with all the windows rolled down, sweat trickled down her back. Horns sounded all around them, making it feel like they were center-stage in a circus than the city’s main thoroughfare.

  “What did I tell you about frowning?” Quirk said as he powdered her forehead once again. “I’ve put wrinkle-filling foundation on you, but darling, it can’t overcome furrows.”

  Well, then, what did glaring do for her makeup? Ronnie wondered as she shot Quirk a harsh glance. “Andale!”

  The dress constricted her midriff. She could barely feel her legs anymore. And the shoes? She had walked, like, two steps in them, and she swore that she had the beginnings of bunions. Each time she looked up she felt like she had blinders on, but they were just the false eyelashes Quirk had applied.

  He, he was happy for the delay. All the more time to make her into Frankenstein’s monster.

  She looked at her watch again. Eight thirty-five. She had kept Zach waiting for over a half an hour. Would he wait for her?

  As the taxi finally moved forward another two and a half feet, they could finally see what had caused the traffic jam. An overturned goat cart. Yes, a cart pulled by goats. This wasn’t happening. She could not possibly miss her one chance to meet Zach over an accident with goats.

  She smacked the driver’s seat again.

  Please don’t let it be over because of goats.

  * * *

  “Honey, honey,” Quirk tried to reassure her. “Girls are allowed. No. Girls are expected to be fashionably late.” He eas
ed her back into the seat. “Plus, putting on lip liner and shouting orders are mutually exclusive.” When she went to argue he cocked his head. “So, stop with the talking!”

  He could feel her squirm, though. She was a bundle of nervous energy as the hairs on her forearm stood up and her jaw moved without her saying anything. Had he known traffic was going to be like this, he would have dropped a Valium, or two, into her drink on the plane. Hell, he would have dropped one himself.

  Before he could stop her, Ronnie leaned forward and punished the poor plastic seat again. “Andale!”

  “Hon, I don’t even think that’s Mexican.” He did his best to quiet her. “Settle down, darling. You are going to mess up your hair.”

  Did she not understand that perfectly coiffed hair required absolute stillness? In this humidity, they would be lucky to get an hour out of the two bottles of hair spray that he put on that mane of hers.

  They rolled, gaining speed until the car in front of them slammed on the brakes. They crashed into its rear bumper. Quirk barely kept the powder from spilling all over Ronnie’s smoking-hot black dress. He was not going to let a little traffic accident ruin that couture.

  Their driver launched out of the taxi shaking his fist, yelling something about a “bendajo.”

  “That’s it!” Ronnie said as she opened the car door.

  She was out of the car, wobbling down the street.

  “You can’t run in stilettos!” Quirk yelled after her as he gathered their thousand bags.

  Throwing payment onto the driver’s seat, he hightailed it after Ronnie.

  Heteros.

  * * *

  “Look over here!” Grant yelled.

  However, it wasn’t so much “over here” as it was right in front of Zach on the bar. Grant doing Jell-O shots off of one of the working girl’s…Well, “leaving nothing to the imagination” was coined for just such an occasion. Some things you just couldn’t unsee.

  As much as you wanted to.

  He checked his watch again. Eight forty-nine. There was late, and then there was “stood up” late. Zach dug his iPod out from his pocket. It still just showed Poison’s “Every Rose Has Its Thorn” waiting to be cued up. No message from Ronnie.

  Not that he expected there to be. Communications outside their scheduled times was strictly on a 9-1-1 basis. He’d barely avoided having his hand blown off last night just trying to explain to Ronnie about Julia.

  Was that why Ronnie wasn’t here? Julia? Had Ronnie had second thoughts about meeting a guy who had ditched his fiancée for a voice over the line? A felon’s voice, no less?

  The guy next to him coughed and coughed until he hacked up something onto the bar. Awesome. And if Zach spent much more time in here with the smoke and grime, he too would be coughing up some asbestos lung cheese. To help Zach make up his mind, someone lit up a stogie. The acrid smoke stung his eyes.

  Swigging back the last of his beer, Zach rose from his stool and headed toward the back of the bar. Grant called after him, “Where you going?”

  “Outside.”

  Grant laughed as only a drunk could laugh. “What? To meet your mystery lover-girl?”

  “Shut up,” Zach snapped more out of embarrassment than anger.

  Pushing past Skip and his new foursome, Zach made his way out into the alley. With the foul stench rising from the open sewer, maybe he should have gone out the front door. But with the ladies of the night prowling and cars honking, Zach thought he might find some peace out here.

  But just like the rest of the evening, this idea was shit, too.

  The door burst open as a young woman staggered out the door, drunk off her ass. Was this chick even eighteen?

  She practically fell into the wall, doubling over, retching.

  Really? This just topped the night.

  He wanted to ignore her, but his mother’s frowning face wouldn’t leave him alone. What did she always say? “Being a gentleman, especially when you didn’t feel like being a gentleman, is the measure of a man.” He wasn’t quite sure if this was the exact situation she had in mind, but he couldn’t just let the girl puke all over herself.

  Zach went over and cautiously pulled her hair back. It was the least that he could do. She staggered forward another step, lurching with each hurl. Finally, she stopped, gasping and crying. He tried to urge her back to the bar when she folded herself in his arms.

  Yep, this is what you got when you tried to help out. Puke on your brand new turtleneck. Firmly, he put his hands on her shoulders and backed her away.

  “Okay, that is not how a lady behaves toward a gentleman.”

  Suddenly, she lashed out with her elbow, clocking him on the jaw. Reeling back, Zach felt his chin. That was going to bruise.

  “What the…?”

  Was she just flailing, or…

  The roundhouse kick to his belly pretty much proved that the first blow wasn’t an accident. He put an arm up to block the next kick, but she hammered away.

  “I don’t know what your drama is, lady, Daddy issues or whatever, but you had better lay off.”

  She did anything but that. Instead, she hauled back and punched him square in the mouth, splitting open his lip. He dabbed the blood away. Unfortunately, his mother also taught him never to hit a woman. Ever.

  “I got a barber shave this morning, just so I wouldn’t have any nicks.” Zach spun out of the way of a groin kick. “That’s it!”

  What his mother didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

  “On a night like tonight, you do not mess with a man’s equipment!”

  He waited until she opened up her midriff for a kick, and then landed a punch to her belly. She doubled over with a groan, yet still came out swinging. He blocked another blow and landed a right hook to her jaw. As she dropped, Zach caught her before she hit the pavement.

  Just because he was protecting himself, didn’t mean he had to be rude.

  What did she think? That he was her john and she could just roll him?

  No matter why the girl had attacked him, this was not going to look good if Ronnie came around the corner. You know, him dragging a beat-up hooker down an alley and all. However, if there was one woman who might understand, it was Ronnie.

  That is, if she ever showed up.

  Hooking his arms under the woman’s, Zach hefted her down the alley. He couldn’t just leave her here, exposed and vulnerable.

  He might have heard the squeak of a sole sooner if he hadn’t been cursing his luck so loudly. Zach’s hand flew to his belt—only it was empty. Mexican alley. Right. Therefore, no gun. Once he heard the second footfall, Zach was releasing his grip on the girl and came around swinging.

  He clocked one guy unawares, sending the large thug reeling backward. The second wasn’t quite so easy, but Zach got a backhanded slap in before following up with a lashing kick to the guy’s kneecap.

  The first man recovered pretty damn quickly and tackled Zach from the side, but he was able to use the momentum to swing the attacker around, and slam him against the crumbling brick wall. An elbow to the solar plexus doubled the guy over.

  Shoving himself off the wall, Zach turned to his other attacker. This time, the guy wasn’t quite so eager to rush him. Perfect. Zach did the rushing, but held back his blow until he saw the other guy commit his left fist. Which meant Zach came in with a low swing to the guy’s right side.

  Knocked off-balance, the attacker stumbled, and Zach kicked the guy’s hip, hard, knocking him to his knees.

  Now to get the hell out of here and find out what—

  The prongs of the Taser bit into his shoulder. Current arced through his body.

  Agony ripped through Zach’s muscles as his teeth clattered.

  Falling to the ground, he couldn’t fight fifty thousand volts of electricity.

  Boots, scuffed and dirty, stepped in front of Zach.

  “Get the van back here,” was the last thing Zach heard before darkness overtook him.

  * * *

&nb
sp; Ronnie tried to hurry down the darkened street, but she tripped on her heels. Again. She wanted to pull the damn things off, but then her nylons would get runs, and then she would have to take those off, and pretty soon, before she knew it, she’d be standing there in a tattered dress, hair askew.

  That was not how she wanted to look when she finally met Zach.

  “Ronnie!” a voice called from half a block away. “Wait up!”

  She ignored it. Far too high-pitched for Zach’s voice, she knew it was Quirk chasing after her. Well, he could chase. She had only one stop in mind. Zach’s cousin’s bachelor party. And she wasn’t going for the party favors.

  Ronnie was about to make her last right turn when Quirk caught up with her. He grabbed her by the sleeve, jerking her to a halt.

  “Don’t you dare go around that corner before I get last looks!” he demanded.

  “Quirk!”

  Her assistant ignored her, though. He pulled up the hem of her dress, revealing far too much thigh for her taste, and then pulled down the neckline. Quirk then cupped her breasts, shoving them up.

  “That’s enough!”

  To her surprise, instead of arguing, Quirk kissed her on the cheek. “I could almost bed you…Almost.”

  She gave him a peck back. That was high praise in Quirk’s world.

  Taking in a deep breath, Ronnie stepped forward careful to balance properly on her heels. They clicked along as she approached the flickering lights announcing Corona and Dos Equis in the window.

  Before she could make it to the door, a van went speeding by, splashing stagnant water onto the sidewalk. She barely jumped out of the way in time. It would not do for her to reek of dog pee and old cabbage.

  Straightening her dress, Ronnie opened the door to the bar. Make that disaster zone. Sure, there was a bar. With naked women dancing while men groped at their legs. Mariachi music blared as patrons hooted.