Final Winter

Adrianna Scott checked her watch, saw that it was now four a.m. She clicked on the car’s radio, found an FM station that carried a CNN radio news feed at the top of the hour, and caught the latest newscast. The woman announcer’s voice was shaky and listening to the news made Adrianna smile.

From the car’s speakers, she heard, ‘CNN has learned that the Department of Homeland Security will shortly increase the threat level color to red — meaning that a terrorist attack is either underway or imminent. CNN has also learned that… that evacuation procedures for the President, Vice-President and Congressional leaders are also taking place at this moment. Military threat levels have also been raised at American military installations here and overseas. CNN has not received any official notification of these events. Stay tuned to CNN radio news for the latest—’

Adrianna shut the radio off with just a tinge of regret. Somehow word had gotten out, and it was too late to care about it. All she was sure of was that a number of AirBox jets were in the air. One would have been a success — tens of thousands of deaths from one just aircraft. Everything else was just, as was said, gravy.

She continued driving, a smile sometimes playing across her face.

~ * ~

Randy Tuthill hated the look on the General’s face, knew his boss was looking to him for some sort of answer, some sort of miracle. But he couldn’t provide one. There was a knock at the door, and then a large black man with a scarred face was there.

‘General Bocks?’

‘Yes?’ he said, looking up from the conference-room table.

‘The name is Montgomery Zane. I’m the military representative for the FOIL team that’s been working with you, the one that—’

Tuthill watched in amazement as his boss lost it. Bocks stood up, the tendons in his neck standing out in whiplike fury as he said, ‘I guess the fuck you are! I guess the fuck you are the ones working with us, the ones who’ve used us and fucked us over! Tiger fucking Team Seven! Where in hell is your boss, Adrianna Scott?’

The black guy seemed to be a cool customer, for he didn’t flinch one bit as that acid stream poured out in his direction. Zane said to the General, ‘I don’t know where Adrianna is. I’ve been trying to contact her for nearly a day. No answer.’

Papers in the General’s hands were being shredded. ‘Sure. Why not? Do you have any fucking idea what in hell you people have done? Do you? Do you?’

Zane, his voice low and even, said, ‘No, I don’t.’

Bocks tossed the papers at him. ‘And I don’t have time to tell you shit, pal. I don’t. So why don’t you get the fuck out of my building before I have your ass in jail and—’

Another voice from another man, entering the office. ‘General, if you’d like, I’ll tell him. If you’d let me.’

Randy didn’t know who the tired-looking guy with a torn and dirty shirt and jacket was, but Bocks seemed to recognize him. But even the flash of recognition didn’t seem to turn down the anger.

‘And why the fuck should I do that?’ Bocks demanded.

‘Because,’ the other guy said, ‘I know more than anybody else here does, and we don’t have much time.’

~ * ~

Brian Doyle looked at Zane, the General, and the other guy, who seemed to be working with the General. His chest still hurt like hell and he was bleeding some from where he had torn out the IV from his arm. The General said, ‘Yeah? And what the hell do you know that’s so important?’

Brian said, ‘Those canisters in your jets, they don’t contain a vaccine.’

‘Already knew that, pal. They contain anthrax.’

Zane swore once, very loud. Brian said, ‘Far as I know, it was Adrianna’s play, start to finish, though she certainly had help. Somebody to create the vaccine, somebody to deliver it and—’

Bocks raised his hand, dismissing him. ‘Sorry, pal, you’re batting oh-for-two and I don’t got time to fuck around. Homeland Security’s on it. Your bitch boss was working with a virologist from the Soviet Union, and some al-Qaeda punk who knows how to drive trucks. They made the delivery a few days ago. Truck and license plate matched what was sent to us, their identification was all in order, and—’

‘Iraqi,’ Brian said.

‘What?’ Zane said. The General stayed quiet.

‘Her real name isn’t Adrianna Scott. It’s Aliyah Fulenz, or something like that. She’s an Iraqi Christian woman. She made sure to tell me that. And everything tonight…it’s revenge for what was done to her parents. I’d guess they died during the first Iraq war.’

Zane started asking him questions but Bocks was louder, saying, ‘And why should we believe that story, detective? Why’s that?’

Brian thought, well, dad, you’re going to do more now for me than any time ever in your whole drunken life, and he said, ‘You’ve met me before, General. You know why I joined the Tiger Team, why I did what I did. Because of my dad and 9/11. That’s why. And that’s why you’re going to trust me. You know that.’