fifty miles per hour, John downshifted to low gear, causing the rental car to nearly lock the rear wheels, without showing brake lights. The sports car hit the rental with a resounding thump.
The road didn’t have a shoulder and John put his arm out the side, signaling to pull into the vista parking lot just ahead. He didn’t know it was the same location used to arrange the virus sale. It was a dark moonless night in the vacant lot, so John drove straight across to the rock wall along the cliff overlooking the bay. The damaged sports car skidded to a stop beside him and the driver jumped out, mad as hell. The parking lot was closed for visitors at dusk, with a sign warning that police would patrol, but the reality was something else in this remote area. There were no lights anywhere. Hanson was furious, first looking at his bumper between his headlights, then rounding the other car to confront the driver. He was shocked when John Hollis stood out of the driver’s door. “Good evening, Mr. Hanson. We have something do discuss.”
Hansen didn’t know how to react. This couldn’t be a coincidence. “Hollis … what are you doing! You wrecked my new car!”
John glanced over. “I think under the circumstances, you hit me, not the other way around.”
“Are you an idiot? You deliberately slowed to cause this, it’s your fault! I’ll file a police report.”
John stepped closer, emphasizing his size. “No, you won’t. In fact, no one will ever know about this meeting.”
Hansen was shaking visibly. “I don’t know what you’re pulling here, but I could have you fired. Now I’m leaving!”
John gripped the man’s shoulder, as he attempted to turn away. “Not so fast, Matt. You’ve got some questions to answer.” The accountant was in his early forties, about fifteen years older than John.
Hansen jerked hard, but couldn’t get free. “Let me go, you scum. I’ll get you for assault now, and maybe kidnapping.”
John controlled his temper. “Well, then, murder would solve it, right?”
Hansen showed genuine fear, looking into the fiery eyes of the man who was standing in front of him, half a foot taller. “Murder … what do you mean? It’s just a little fender bender. Heck, let’s leave now and forget the whole thing.”
John gripped tighter. “No, that’s no good. You damaged my car.” John glared within inches of the shaking accountant.
“Okay, Okay. I’ll write you a check for a thousand right now. That’s more than enough.”
John shook his head. “No. That’s not nearly enough. Come with me.” John dragged Hanson forward in front of his own headlights, to the knee-high stone wall, separating them from the sheer cliff. “So, enjoy the view because it’ll be your last.” He was fighting his most primitive urge to throw the jerk over.
There was a smell of urine in the cold still air. Hanson tried to wiggle free, panicking. “What the hell! What are you doing? You’re crazy!”
John grabbed the smaller man’s arms and lifted him on top of the wall, then grasped his belt while pushing Hanson’s upper body over the side. Hanson screamed, as John spoke. “Calm down … want me to lose my grip?”
Hansen started bawling like a baby. “I don’t want to die! Please, I’m afraid of heights; don’t do this, I’m begging.”
John pulled him back and threw him onto the Porsche. “You’ve got one chance to live. I don’t plan to spend all night out here freezing my ass off.” John’s voice had a sinister quality that he’d never used before. Hanson was still whimpering, obviously ready to say anything. “The virus records are wrong. Tell me why you forged the inventory. You’re in charge of all company data. That means you know how the data changed.”
“They’re not wrong. I swear.”
John jerked him up violently and threw him against the barrier. It was cold, and Hanson was wet all over, sweating from fear and unable to control his body functions. “No … No! I’ll talk, I’ll tell you.”
It only took two minutes to get the whole story out. The only thing missing was the killer. It wasn’t Hanson. He didn’t have the balls himself and hadn’t hired anyone. Hanson was too paralyzed with fear to lie. He’d never seen anyone act like John with the demeanor of a cold-blooded killer. John knew the man would remain petrified, remembering this night long after he let him go. Hanson would be afraid, always looking for John, ready to run. John had been a nicely-mannered mild man at the Institute. This was someone strange and unknown, someone who knew how to kill without clemency.
John hated this part of his past, something he’d left behind in the mountains of Afghanistan. But now, someone had threatened his life and the people he loved. They would reap the whirlwind.
Anxious
Early the following morning, Jules got a call from Jim Osborne who wanted to arrange a conference call with his client at ten o’clock. Osborne couldn’t say for sure, but he expected his client, the Saudis, to make an offer. Jules confirmed that ten would be fine and then went to the office, earlier than ever before. He was so excited, he could hardly drive. When he arrived, it was too early for most of the staff, but Charlie Ritter was always early. He came to Jules’ office when he heard him arrive. “Hey, in early, what’s the deal?” Charlie suspected it had something to do with the sale.
Jules found it hard to control his enthusiasm. “Charlie, my man, we’re about to realize our dream. Osborne is arranging a conference call with the buyers for ten today. You need to be there; just you and me, the owner-executives. We’ll let Lorne’s wife know about it after the money’s on the table.”
Both men could hardly control their glee. They were sitting in Jules’ office with their feet on the desk when Marie arrived. “Wow, you two look pleased with something.” They just smiled at her as she continued. “Did you hear the news?”
Jules was smiling. “What news?”
She was serious. “There’s been a second Ebola outbreak in Guinea, across the border from Sierra Leone. At least they think it’s Ebola. The UN is sending aid workers there now. They don’t know for sure, but it’s just like other outbreaks, same sort of symptoms.”
The mood changed. Jules asked Charlie, “How’s the shipment to Kambia going?”
Charlie answered. “It should be all done today. It’s the last of it, Jules. If you want to split it up, you need to decide today, but I don’t think it would do much good that way, not enough for either place.”
Jules pondered for a moment. “Send it as originally planned. We have the order from the CDC and haven’t had any official instructions yet about a second outbreak. It may not even be the same thing.”
Charlie left to finish the shipment. Jules called Marie. “Get Hanson in here!”
It was another half hour before the CFO came to work still shaking from the encounter with Hollis the evening before. His wife had sensed something wrong, but he couldn’t tell her anything. She didn’t know about the illegal dealings. She’d be crushed. She’d leave him if she knew he was helping terrorists with germ warfare. He was helpless against Hollis, he knew it, but he didn’t want to lose his family because of his stupidity. When he went to Jules’ office, he hadn’t slept and didn’t know what to expect, worried that Hollis had gone farther. “You wanted to see me, Jules?”
Jules was seeing red. “Did you hear the news, Hanson?” It was only the second time in years that Jules had addressed him disrespectfully. “Did you hear about the second outbreak?”
Hanson shook his head. “I don’t know anything about it, Jules.”
“Well, let me tell you about it, Matt, because I think you do know all about it. I believe the second outbreak is caused by the shipment that was going to the WHO in Sierra Leone. You know, the one you caused to be stolen and that killed the doctors. You fucking idiot! You caused this!”
“Jules, there’s no proof. You’re accusing me of something with no proof.”
“Proof! You want proof? I don’t believe in coincidences. You shipped
live virus in WHO shipments. You sent it to some terrorists and you want proof! Well, guess what. What do you think will happen when they match strains from both outbreaks … huh? How will they connect the dots? Maybe these two villages over a hundred miles apart have people visiting each other and drinking out of the same glasses and fucking each other! Yeah, that makes sense; let’s go with that. You moron! That fairy tale falls apart the moment someone finds our shipping container. You know, the one containing live virus that we shipped, breaking countless international laws. I think this falls under ‘Weapon of Mass Destruction.’ Yeah, that’s what it is, a WMD produced by GHI.”
Blood vessels looked like they would burst in Jules’ head while Hanson stood silently. “Not only will you single-handedly, correction, you and that bitch Petronova, destroy this Institute, you’ll go to prison for the rest of your lives – at least.”
Jules was out of sarcasms. He was in this, too. He’d known about it and done nothing. That made him a co-conspirator. He looked intently at Hanson, pleading with his eyes. “Matt, you need to destroy the