Independence Day Plague Page 14

  “So we check and see who’s buying anthrax bacteria samples in the DC area. Wouldn’t hurt to talk to some of the kid’s friends either.”

  “Yes. I can ask around more about any other cases.” She handed Mike the second file. “After the Cabbot case, I sent word around my network of friends to be notified of any unusual health issues. A data analyst from Alexandria PD sent that one over.”

  Dorado thumbed through it reading slowly while she ate. “He’s an army guy who died of heart failure. Why do we have a police report on it?”

  “The wife freaked out when she found him. She called the cops. When she first found him, she thought he was asleep. His body was positioned upright in one chair facing another, both chairs moved far out of their standard place. Look at the photo. His hand held a used glass and second used glass sat on a table nearby. The scene's obviously staged. Heart failure hurts. People flay about, fall on things. They can die in their sleep but when it happens in the middle of the day, it's rarely peaceful. The man didn’t attempt to get to the phone. All of that doesn’t necessarily add up to murder though.”

  “What does?”

  “Autopsy shows his heart was fine. Colonel Forester ran marathons like many of the military guys. A healthy, fit man of age 42.”

  “So what did he die of?”

  “Botulism.”

  Dorado paused, tea glass halfway to his lips. “Okay, I’m not up on the latest diseases.”

  Sherrie smiled, “Don’t worry. I had to look it up too. The U. S. hasn't reported a case in almost fifty years except if the very rare greenie screws up his home-canned meat. It’s not really a disease, more of a type of food poisoning. You get it if a canned food is punctured and the bacterium sealed inside grows.”

  “Or eating bad eggs or raw chicken?”

  “No, that’s the more common salmonella. It doesn’t kill as easily as botulism. Botulism comes from a toxin made by a bacteria called Clostridium. It only grows in airless conditions such as inside sealed cans. Since the food industry perfected canning, no one ever gets poisoned anymore.”

  “Not counting the occasional greenie.”

  “Right, because they do their own canning and only when they really screw it up. This guy lived all Army, the exact opposite of a greenie. The wife doesn’t even cook that much.”

  Dorado thumbed through the file. It read like most incident reports and no mention of suspected murder. Nothing hinted at food poisoning. He stopped at the last page, the coroner’s report. “Why didn’t they change the cause of death?”

  “According to my friend, the Army stepped in. They took all the samples and the body. They ordered Alexandria PD to close the case. The Army hushed it all up, citing national security. The guy worked for the Pentagon but in the Medical Corps. When I got this file yesterday, I tried to call the wife. The incident was eight days ago but the wife's already history. An officer from the Alexandria PD told me that the house sits empty and put up for sale.”

  “Sounds like one of their own got clumsy.”

  Sherrie nodded slowly, “At home? Maybe, but I don’t know what to think.”

  Dorado again pulled the files into his lap as the waiter came up, offering coffee and dessert. They both declined. Olsen took the files back and stowed them into the oversized bag as the waiter came back with the check and placed it between them. She rummaged through her purse as Mitchell plucked the bill off the table. The tab ran high but reasonable considering the fine quality of the meal.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll get this.”

  “Playing the macho date?” Sherrie watched him with cool, expressionless eyes.

  He smiled back. “No, just paying for the information. Really Sherrie, I don’t mind and there are no strings attached.”

  She gave him a small smile that relaxed the hard lines of her face and made her eyes glow. “I wasn’t worried about strings, Mike. Thank you for dinner.”

  He felt the red flush rising. He fumbled with the napkin for a moment and pushed the dirty plates away. “Why steal the police files? Why not tell me about Forester in our usual meeting?”

  “I’m not supposed to know about the Forester case and my friend won’t come forward; nor will I out her.” Sherrie looked down into her coffee, avoiding his eyes. “I told you before, Mike. I like my job. If Cardell hears about me sniffing around his old cases or finding any mistakes…”

  “He won’t.” Dorado sighed and continued, “But you think they’re connected?”

  “I think it’s odd that two old and obscure diseases appear within a month of the biggest Fourth of July celebration in years. I think it may be significant although I can’t find any connection between the two people.”

  “Okay. I don’t suppose you have any connections with the Pentagon?

  Sherrie smiled, eyes lighting up with laughter. “No, my contacts are pretty limited in the military.”

  He nodded, “Okay, Let’s ask officially through channels to locate and talk to the widow. See if the Army will cooperate. I’ll get McAfee to check into the wirehead. Your name won’t be mentioned. Copy and return the Army case to APD right away. It’s good to know about the case but we’re limited unless there’s something left to investigate. Bring the wirehead file with you to the next staff meeting. I’ll handle Cardell.”

  He paid the bill and they walked out together. At ten-thirty, the well-lit streets were almost empty of pedestrians. Dorado offered to walk with her back to the Pentagon City subway.

  “I live across from the Row,” she said, “but I don’t mind the company back to that area.”

  They walked in companionable ease back to the Row area. The closed shops let out only a little light across silent walkways as they approached the controlled-access door to her building. Sherrie turned, tucking a hand into his hand. “I want to thank you, Mike.”

  “You already did.”

  “No, not for dinner. I want to thank you for taking me seriously.”

  “Why wouldn’t I?” Dorado smiled and gave her hand a small squeeze. “You're one of the most observant people I know. For someone who stays pretty much to herself in the office, you have a very resourceful circle of friends.”

  “You could say that.” She stepped closer. “I’d like to count you as part of that circle. You know Mike, a divorce doesn’t mean you’ve stopped living.”

  “You’ve checked up on me.”

  “Yes, a little, mostly through gossip. You divorced three years ago but haven’t seen anyone seriously since. That implies it was bad.”

  He shrugged. “Didn’t know I was interesting enough for gossip.”

  Sherrie leaned in and lightly kissed him on the lips. “You’re interesting enough,” she whispered.

  He hesitated and then responded, pulling her into a loose embrace and returning the kiss with a longer one. He paused and leaned back. “I’m not sure this is such a good idea.”

  “I don’t mind dating coworkers.”

  “Are we dating?”

  “It’s possible… if you’re interested.”

  He cocked an eyebrow at her. “It could get messy.”

  She smiled. “Only if we let it. We work in different divisions. You’re not in my standard chain of command, and you’re a genuinely nice guy.”

  "Is that so rare in men?"

  "Sometimes unbelievably rare."

  He smiled slightly, “Is that why you’re interested in me?”

  She kissed him lightly again. “One of the reasons. You didn’t chase me. I noticed your interest. Your eyes give you away. But you never once hit on me. It was sweet and, in a way, refreshing.”

  He grinned, “Thanks, I guess. I’d want to keep it quiet for a while, at least until after the Fourth.”

  She paused for a few minutes and then nodded. “Yeah, I think that’s a good idea.”

  They stood in the light of the doorway holding each other for a few minutes more before parting. When she went through the metal door, he bade her good night and turned to walk back
to the subway station. She said nothing of coming up and Dorado didn’t ask. This was good enough for now. Dorado smiled faintly all the way back to the Pentagon City Metro, for the long subway ride to his home in Maryland.

  Chapter 9

  June 22, 2026

  With twelve days to go, the team felt buried in files and staff meetings. Early on, the group took over one of the three glass-walled conference centers despite complaints, covering the two tables with empty coffee cups and files. Over the last two days, the six-person team had reduced the credible threats down to twenty-four, but more possibilities came in daily. Dorado arrived at seven-thirty, coffee in hand, at the conference room. The meeting would be in a half hour but he wanted some quiet time to organize. When he opened the door, the smell of stale coffee and forgotten food rose up. The janitorial staff refused to clean actively used tabletops but it also looked like they failed to empty the garbage. Grimacing and cursing silently, he took a little time to throw the refuse away, putting the can outside the glass door before sitting down to look over his own pile.

  Olsen entered next, carrying a small stack of files. She greeted him and put the files on top of the stack in front of him. The top one read “Thayor Cabbot.”

  She smiled as she assessed the dark brown suit and gold colored shirt, button left open at the top. The suit was newer, a better cut than most of his old ones. “You look nice today. Brown suits you.”

  As usual, her blond hair was drawn back, giving her face an arched, aloof look. She wore light touches of makeup and matching light gray slacks and coat. Underneath the coat, the silky dark blue shirt brought out the pale blue of her eyes.

  “Thanks,” he nodded and smiled. “You look lovely today. I’m surprised you’re in a jacket considering it’s going to be in the eighties outside.”

  “Maintenance keeps the computer room cold. If you don’t dress for arctic conditions, you’ll freeze before noon.” She smiled slightly before returning to her standard seat at the far end of the table.

  McAfee sauntered in, tossing a stack of papers on the table as he took his coat off.

  “Yo chief, Judge Hernandez signed off on those two warrants last night.”

  “Church of the Pure Blood?”

  “Yeah, the church and the leader’s house. We can move on them at any time.”

  Dorado nodded as Charro and Taylor filed in. Charro wore the same unchanging wardrobe of black t-shirt that showed off many of the tattoos that snaked up his arms and black jeans. Taylor had forgone his normal tailored suit for black jeans and a cream pullover shirt with a v-neck. When Brian commented, Taylor replied with a deep rumble. “We’re in for some messy work today. I don’t want to spoil my best threads. ‘Sides, man, have you ever tried to wear a bullet proof jacket around a good suit? It really ruins the cut.”

  Dorado suppressed a laugh, “Want to bust some Nazis today?”

  Taylor grinned back with perfect white teeth gleaming in the dark face. “What, is it my birthday? Any day, boss. And I didn’t get you anything.”

  “What’s up?” Charro slouched in the chair next to Olsen.

  “Taylor found out through some of his contacts that the Church of the Pure Blood leaders stocked up on unusual weaponry. Cardell found no connection to the Fourth but agrees with the assessment on weaponry. Sherrie ran their public material through threat assessment and it rang the warning bell. We know that the church fronts for white supremacists.” He gestured towards Taylor.

  “The leaders spout a lot of anti-Chinese commentary on their blogs and podcasts. They're calling for action.” He passed over a file. “Everything sounds like they’re planning something potentially big although the date is still unclear. Either way, we’re going to shut it down. In the front, you’ll find a list of their top ten priests and group leaders.

  Charro, run all of them for priors and outstandings first thing this morning. We have a warrant to search the house but making some arrests at the same time shakes them up even more. The three of you take a ten-man SWAT team on the raid. Do the house first, and bust everyone. Then immediately go to the church. Block the phone lines before presenting the warrant. Don’t give them a chance to warn the others. Brian, use Cardell as the face on this one but you’ll be officer in charge.”

  “He won’t like me taking over as OIC.” McAfee rocked in his chair. “The guy’s a born asshole and just got worse."

  “They'll open the door to a white man in their security cameras and he’s already built a rapport with them. Tell Cardell he can announce the bust to the press. He’ll like that. Take no chances on the raid because we know they’re heavily armed. If you find one unexplained pill or questionable weapon, bring everyone in and confiscate everything. We can apologize later. Most of the folks will make bail easily but it creates enough confusion to shut down any immediate plans. Once it’s over and I have your reports, we’ll let the FBI have a crack at them.”

  “No problem.”

  Dorado picked up the next file and handed it to Charro. “Cardell says he sees a lot of action going on in the Tanaka territory in the daily reports. We can't trace anything specifically but we need to check it out. If we need to raid that warehouse you told us about, we can. I want to know why they’re stockpiling ammo. Do you think you can ask around and get any real answers?”

  Charro flipped through the folder. “I have a few contacts I can look up but I’ll need help. That area’s not safe without backup.”

  “Hey amigo, I can go with you.” Taylor nodded in his direction.

  “If you need more than one man, grab anyone you want to work with. I recommend Mitshiro or maybe Nakashiro. Both are good men. Otherwise, route what you find out through Cardell since he discovered the issues but make sure I know about it too. He’s not to be present for the investigation though. I’ve thought about the whole race issue that McAfee and Taylor brought up and they have a point. Take an uptight, corporate clone like Cardell down there and you won’t get any answers at all. If he gives you problems, tell him to see me.”

  “Shit man, I fight my own fights.” The young man’s eyes narrowed in glare at him.

  Dorado continued smoothly, “Yeah, but why fight at all? Cardell’s senior but you know the gangs. He’ll screw you over if he can which screws up the investigation. So I want only you talking to the gang leaders. I’ll make that crystal clear to him this morning.”

  McAfee spoke up, “Where is he anyway? I thought he made a big stink about not being included in the meetings.”

  Dorado smiled, “Seems he has trouble getting in before nine. Something about commuting. However, I made it clear that the best times for our meetings were at eight. Don’t worry. I’ll fill him in when he gets here.”

  Dorado threw the next file across the table to McAfee. “Brian, check this case out when you have time in the next two days. I found it last night while going through the stacks.”

  McAfee quickly scanned it. He shrugged, “It’s a small time drug bust, open and shut. The guy’s on bail for possession with intent to distribute.” He looked up puzzled.

  “Yeah but the kid’s in the hospital now with anthrax. Cardell doesn’t find that interesting but I do. Talk to his parents, the doctors, even the kid if you can. Find out how the hell a kid caught a cow disease in Prince George County. It doesn’t pertain to his drug bust but we’re willing to negotiate the charges if he talks about how he got infected.”

  “Cardell isn’t going to like that.”

  “Screw him. I think we have a home-made chemist cooking up more than some rec drugs.” Dorado paused as he looked around the room. He knew Sherrie’s information didn’t come through standard channels. What else were they missing? He leaned forward, hands clasped on the desk. “In fact, have any of you noticed anything unusual going on? Any small thing happening that's out of the ordinary?”

  They all stared at him blankly. Taylor spoke first, “Like what, man?”

  “I don’t know specifically, any unusual activity. Are there stran
ge items on the black market? Have you seen any activity that’s out of place? We get so focused on criminal activity when even non-criminal activity can lead to something big.”

  They glanced at each other in turn. Taylor replied, “I've seen a lot of activity in the subway; a lot of repair men coming and going. More than I’ve ever seen before.”

  Dorado nodded. “Yeah I noticed that too and called the Metro offices. They say they’re getting ready for the high volume of people by performing high-level maintenance and polish. They’re cleaning the air filters, fixing the escalators and elevators, and getting rid of the graffiti.”

  Taylor laughed, “So the escalators are going to work again? Hot damn!”

  Charro replied, “Only for an hour or two.” He paused, lips pressed tight in thought. “It seems like I've seen a lot old bills floating around the gangs, more than usual.”

  Dorado looked at him blankly. “Old bills?”

  “Yeah amigo, greenbacks, the old currency bills. They’re mostly in the twenties and fifties range. People occasionally use them and the old gold coins from Africa for safe buys. Cops have a hard time getting hands on cash for stings. Coinage and bills are untraceable but if you’re caught with them, it’s instant suspicion by the cops. Most of the black market folks have a little stash here and there that they take to the Grand Cayman banks to cash in. The bills got pretty damn rare until about a month ago.”

  Minted currency in the forms of bills and coins stopped their official use in 2017. With the rise of alternative and safer means of commerce, banks began dealing solely in virtual money through plastic cards following the government’s switch to cards for food stamps and welfare payouts. The move saved the government billions of dollars in fraudulent claims, and the cost of minting and distributing the cash. However, once the shutdown of greenbacks was announced, it included an eventual recall of all cash in circulation. The collectability of the coins and bills skyrocketed. Quickly, the less legal businessmen of society began hoarding the untraceable, easily exchangeable currency as collectors’ items. The purchase power value of the greenbacks, still based on the value of the virtual dollar, rose steadily. Occasionally, a collector cashed in his retirement fund of 1,000 in greenbacks in a currency exchange and walked away with 10,000 or more in increased credit in his bank account. However, the circulated bills became rarer, either deteriorating or turned in over time. Due to the greenbacks’ increasing scarcity, the illegal bartering with old currency also was decreasing.