Final Winter

‘It seemed routine. It was… well, I’ll just say it… Adrianna, it was a transcript of a phone call that you made to a CDC facility in Alabama. A facility that is preparing the vaccination canisters. The transcript said that you canceled Final Winter. You had all the proper authorizations and code phrases, and your command was accepted.’

Adrianna was quiet. Darren said, ‘But I’ve got other information, from an FBI operative working undercover at AirBox in Memphis. This report said that something called Final Winter was taking place — he didn’t have any details -and that a delivery associated with Final Winter would be made today. Adrianna… it doesn’t make sense. And other things don’t make sense either.’

‘Like what?’

‘I’ve talked to Monty Zane… and I’ve done other digging. Adrianna, there’s nothing out there that shows any kind of preparedness in anticipation of Final Winter. Border security isn’t on any type of alert. Monty told me that a friend of his, working in a classified border-security group… they’re even allowing vacations and training sessions. I haven’t found anything remotely associated with increased surveillance in any American cities — no one seems to be looking for those Syrian men who are going to attack us with anthrax.’

Adrianna nodded slowly, rolled her chair back from her desk. ‘Who else have you told, besides Monty?’

‘No one,’ Darren said. Then, in a flash that seemed to last a long time, he realized that he should have lied, should have told her anything to protect himself, should have said that lots of other people knew that something wasn’t right with Final Winter, that he had contacted his friends in the NSA and CIA and FBI, that a flying investigative squad was coming right now to check into her. He should have done that, should have done anything, he knew, as Adrianna came at him from around her desk. And punched him square in the throat.

~ * ~

In a small room at a terminal building at Andrews Air Force Base, Monty Zane tried one more time with his secure cellphone, and gave up after another long series of unanswered rings. Darren wasn’t answering his phone or his pager, and calls to his apartment weren’t being answered.

He looked at the cellphone, thought about calling Adrianna. To say what? For one thing, she’d probably want to know why in hell he had been detached again, and he didn’t like going into those swamp arguments. He just did what he had to do. He stood up, clipped the cellphone back onto his belt, and picked up his tote bag. Time to fly.

Monty walked up to a senior airman who was standing by a wooden lectern, examining a clipboard full of papers. The senior airman — wearing camo BDUs — looked up as he approached and said, ‘Help you, sir?’

‘Yeah,’ Monty said. ‘You’ve got a C-20 transport leaving in ten for Lakenheath. I need to be on that aircraft.’

The senior airman shook his head. ‘No can do. That’s carrying a Congressional delegation, complete with wives, staffers, and luggage. Especially luggage. No room.’

Monty nodded, reached into a jacket pocket, pulled out a plastic-sealed embossed card that had his photo and lots of words around it. He silently passed the card over to the senior airman who glanced at the card, glanced again longer, and then — eyes widened — looked up at Monty.

‘Man… you must have had to impress God Himself to get travel authorization like that.’

‘Not God. Just one of his servants on earth.’

‘Maybe so, but it’s good enough.’ The senior airman picked up a hand-held radio, motioned Monty to follow him as they went through an open doorway, out to the flight line. Military aircraft of all types were stationed on the tarmac, as far as the eye could see.

‘Come with me, sir, we’ll get you on that jet. There’s a Congressional staffer there who kept on asking me for tea with honey this morning and pissed me off. I’ll be glad to leave her sorry ass behind.’

Monty shouldered his tote bag. ‘Won’t she put up a fight?’

The senior airman laughed. ‘Who can win a fight against God?’

~ * ~

Adrianna rubbed at her punching hand, glad that Darren had closed the door behind him. Darren was sprawled out on the floor, gurgling and wheezing, his face red. She knelt down next to him, lowered her head close to his.

‘Sorry about that, Darren, but your larynx has been crushed. One of the many talents I learned at Camp Perry. Eventually you’re going to choke to death. It will take a long time and be very painful.’

She leaned in further. ‘My name is Aliyah Fulenz. I am an Iraqi Christian woman, and because your country killed my family many years ago I am going to kill many Americans in just a few days.’

The gurgling and wheezing grew louder. She said, ‘I am doing all this for revenge. For hate.’

She reached out, gently touched his forehead. ‘But Darren… I always liked you, always. And what I am about to do to you, I do out of friendship.’

And with her strong arms she clasped Darren’s head close to her and broke his neck.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT