Chapter 73. Panic
Washington, D.C. The White House Situation Room.
With six hours left on the terrorists’ deadline, the White House received a call from a cell phone. The callers claimed to be the terrorists Matteo Graciano and Dominic Chastain. The call was immediately patched into the Situation Room where the President was already meeting with her advisors, and NSA technicians began scanning for the origination point of the cell phone making the call.
“President Scall, you have six hours left. Have you rounded up the war criminals?”
“How do I know this call is truly from the people who unleashed this virus?”
“Would you like to ask me a virology question, Madame President?” The President was satisfied.
“No, that won’t be necessary.”
“What about the war criminals?”
“Ten of them are already dead,” said the President.
“Which ones?” asked Graciano.
An aide to the President read out the list.
“What about the others?” asked Graciano.
“We are making good progress, Mr. Graciano, or should I say Mr. Gurdic. Which do you prefer?”
“Mr. Gurdic is fine. That is who I am.”
“Mr. Gurdic, you have set your sights on killing millions of Americans. None of them ever hurt your family. Why are you taking your revenge out on so many innocent people?”
“We were innocent too, President Scall! We were just little boys. And we had to witness our mother being raped, our sister being beaten to death, our father being shot in the head, and so many others killed—all because your President failed to protect us. Now you will know what it means to suffer!”
The President gave the signal, and then there were two new voices on the line.
“Matteo, is that you? This is your mother.” Ann Graciano strained to hear her adopted son’s voice. She was on a linkup from St. Louis. There was a pause on the other end.
“Mom, stay out of this. This does not concern you,” said Graciano.
“Doesn’t concern me? My son is accused of being an international terrorist and murdering millions of Americans—you don’t think that concerns me?” yelled Ann Graciano.
“You are not my real mother! My real mother was in Croatia! I seek vengeance for her! Now stay out of it and put the President back on the line!”
There was another pause and Dominic Chastain’s adoptive mother from Germany came on the line.
“Dominic? Dominic? Answer me. Are you there?” There was no response.
Graciano seized back control of the call.
“It was a nice try to put our mothers on, but it is not going to work!” said Graciano. “Now answer our questions or this will be the last call you ever get!!”
“Okay,” said the President. “What is it that you want?”
“I want to know how many of the war criminals you have killed.”
“We haven’t killed anyone, Mr. Gurdic. But we know where everyone on your list is. What if we just give you the list of their locations, and you can do the killing? You give us the antidote location, and everybody wins.”
“Madame President, I think you are under the delusion that this is a negotiation. This is not. This is merely a status call to find out how you are coming on our list of demands. If you have not completed our demands within six hours, there will be no antidote, and you can live with the blood of millions of Americans on your hands.”
“Oh, I don’t think that’s going to happen, Mr. Gurdic. Our FBI agents have successfully rounded up everyone who got through before the border shutdown, and they have all been quarantined. This virus is not going anywhere, at least in the United States.”
“President Scall, I think there are some people in Boston who would disagree with you. It is a matter of days before you will have a full-scale epidemic on your hands. This is your last chance. Are you going to execute the war criminals or not?”
“We just need a little more time to sort this out, Mr. Gurdic,” said the President.
“I have my answer, Madame President. Goodbye.”
“Wait!” It was too late. Graciano had hung up.
“Where is he?” asked the President.
The face of the NSA Director appeared on the big screen.
“It says the signal is coming from somewhere in Europe.”
“Find them!” yelled the President.
For 150 fifty Bank of Boston customers, a couple and their two kids in suburban Chicago, a gas station attendant in Minnesota, two scared kidnap victims in Trenton, and dozens of other Americans in quarantine, the answer could not come soon enough.
Atlanta, Georgia.
“Guess who’s home?” yelled Charlie Winston, as he came into his house with his bags.
“Daddy!” his son squealed from the family room couch.
Winston came over to the couch and picked his son up, hugging him deeply.
“Oh, buddy, I missed you so much. For a while there, I thought I would never see you again! It is so good to see you! Plant one on me right here!”
His son giggled and game him a big kiss on the cheek. He put his son back on the couch and came around to sit down.
“Did you get me any presents, Daddy?”
“Now, do you think I would go half way around the world and not get my son something special?” And with that, Winston pulled out a cage with a kitchen rag covering the top.
“Ta-da!” His son gasped when he saw the beautiful purple snake.
“Oh, Daddy, it’s awesome! Did you get it on the island?”
“Yep. It comes from the Island of Boyuca. They call it The Evil Place. Oooooh. Spooky.”
“I’m going to call him Grapey, because he is purple.”
“Grapey? Hmmm. Okay. I guess that will work. Do you want to pet him?”
“Can I? Can I get him out?”
“Sure,” said Winston. “He is not poisonous. But all the same, we should keep him in a separate cage from your other snakes.” Teddy took out the purple snake slowly, wrapping him around his neck and letting the snake slither down his arm.
“Oh, Daddy. He is just great! Wait until my friends see him. So tell me about your trip. Did you find the Fountain of Youth?”
“Teddy, you have to promise me you won’t tell anybody this.”
“I promise.”
“Teddy, I found it. The real Fountain of Youth. It’s incredible. I cannot wait to tell you the whole story.”
“Do you think it will cure me?”
“I don’t know, Teddy. But there is more of a chance now than there ever was. We will test it out tomorrow. But right now, you have to get to sleep.”
He picked up his son and brought him into his bedroom. Winston pulled the covers up to Teddy’s neck and kissed him good night.
“Daddy?”
“Yes, sport?”
“Are you gonna find Mommy?”
“You know I am good at finding things, right? If I can find the Fountain of Youth, don’t you think I can find one pretty Mommy?”
“That’s what I thought,” said Teddy.
“Good night, son.”
“Good night, Daddy.”
Winston went into the kitchen to speak to his mother, who had woken up after hearing all the commotion. He gave her a synopsis of the events and then asked her to stay with Teddy one more night. He had to return to the C.D.C. tonight, and then he had to find Murielle. The grandmother agreed, happy to have her son Charlie home.
Winston unpacked his gear, took a shower, and then wolfed down some macaroni and cheese. Refreshed, he got in his car and headed back to the C.D.C.
You Tube, an hour later.
The video showed Davy Branco standing outside a building in Mexico City. The voice of Julio Cezanne played in the background.
“This is Julio Cezanne. I am here tonight to tell you how your President has lied to you. She told you that the virus has been contained and quarantined. That is a lie. As we speak, thousands of you do not realize that you have the virus. That number will double and triple in the coming days. Soon, there will be millions with the virus. The Government has no cure. And all of you will die. Already, thousands in Brazil and The Netherlands are dying. And we gave your President a choice--kill a few despicable criminals, make a simple apology, and wire me $25 billion, or let everyone in America die a gruesome death. She was given a deadline. And she decided to ignore the deadline. Very well. This is what happens when you ignore me. The man you see before you is standing in front of one of two warehouses filled with thousands of syringes of an antidote for this virus.” The next scene showed Davy Branco lighting a torch to a line of dynamite and then running away. Seconds later, there was a massive explosion and the warehouse was decimated in a ball of fire.
“Please tell your President not to ignore us again.” Within an hour of the You Tube posting, the White House switchboard was overloaded with tens of thousands of calls from across the country. The country was in full-blown panic mode. Where was the virus, and who was infected, citizens wanted to know. Why was the President lying? And why wasn’t the CIA killing these fifty-two Serbian criminals? And where was Bill Clinton? It was the one time that media analysts could recall that commentators from MSNBC and Fox News had the same message—do whatever the terrorists wanted, just get the antidote.
Atlanta, Georgia
What Jacob Roessler’s adoptive parents did not know was that Roessler continued to have a secret relationship with his brother Levi in Seattle. Although Levi was only two when Roessler had left home for New York, Levi was good with computers, and managed to figure out Roessler’s identity. A few years before, Levi had tracked down Roessler’s e-mail address and asked him to Skype. The two became friends. Roessler thought it was a good way to keep tabs on what his adoptive parents were doing. They may, for example, decide some day to cut off the funds in the trust account. Tonight, as Roessler sat at his desk worried about what he was going to tell Winston about the healing water, his brother sent him a Skype request.
“Dude, what are you doing down there in Atlanta? We had FBI agents at the house looking for you.”
“What? What did they want?” asked Roessler, concerned.
“They wanted to know your name and where you worked.”
“Did you tell them anything?”
“Hell no. Snitches get stitches, bro. Plus, they never asked me.”
“Did Mom and Dad tell them anything?”
“Jacob, they still don’t know your new name. But they told him that the guy at the bank knows where you are.”
“When was this?”
“Tonight, maybe eight o’clock. They said they were going to talk to the bank guy tomorrow morning.”
“Thanks for the head’s up, Levi.”
“No worries, dude. Hey, are you into some kind of dangerous shit, man? Why is the FBI interested in you?”
“You know about this virus on the news? They are just investigating everyone at the C.D.C. It is just government paranoia, you know? Make sure nobody working for the good guys is working with the terrorists.”
“Oh, okay. Hey listen, where is this virus, dude? Is it anywhere near Seattle?”
“Levi, I cannot tell you that, but don’t worry, okay? As the President said, we have this thing contained.”
“Okay, that’s cool.”
“Listen, Levi, I really have to go, okay? We are working 80-hour weeks here, you know?”
“Right on, dude. Stay in touch, okay?”
“Sure thing.”
Roessler hung up and rubbed his temples. If the FBI learned who he was, they would immediately assume that he was working for his brothers, the terrorists. They would figure out Murielle Winston was in his basement. And what was he supposed to tell Winston tonight? It was all over. He had to get out of the country. It was time for Plan B.
Roessler and his brothers, however, were long-term planners. He had prepared for just such a contingency. He opened a safe in his office and removed a fake passport, a credit card with a fake name tied to an account in Luxembourg, and fifty thousand Euros. He had to get to the airport fast. He checked flights on Expedia. There was a midnight flight leaving for Paris. He should be able to make that if he hurried. He pocketed the remaining plastic bottle of water from Boyuca and ran out the door. He knew that international travelers without luggage always attracted attention, so he decided to run home quickly to pack a carry-on suitcase.
Roessler ran up the stairs and went into his bedroom. While he was packing the suitcase, he heard muffled noises coming from the basement. She must still be alive down there, he thought. “By the time they find her, though, I will be long gone,” he thought. He pulled the handle out on the black suitcase, put it on the floor of the bedroom and rolled it behind him as he walked out in the kitchen to leave. There, standing in the open doorway, was Charlie Winston.
“Hey, Jacob,” said Winston grimly.
“Hey, Charlie.”
“Never heard from you tonight. I thought you were testing our water.”
“Yeah, well, I just ran out of time, Charlie, I am going to finish that off in the morning.”
“So the water is at the lab?”
“Yeah, it’s at the lab.”
Winston motioned to the suitcase.
“You goin’ somewhere, Jacob?”
“Yeah, boss wants me to be ready to go first thing tomorrow morning back to Dallas, so I am just getting my bag ready.”
“Jacob, why don’t you cut the bullshit and tell me where Murielle is.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about, Charlie. I don’t know where she is.”
“Really? My phone says different.” Winston held up his own iPhone. “You know, this phone has a handy little feature on it called ‘Find my iPhone.’ Took me about ten minutes to track Murielle’s phone to your house.”
“So your phone says that Murielle’s phone is at my house?”
“Should we test it, Jacob?” Winston dialed Murielle’s number and an iPhone on Jacob Roessler’s kitchen table started playing Steve Wonder’s “Isn’t She Lovely.”
“‘Isn’t She Lovely.’ That’s our wedding song, Jacob.” He walked over to the kitchen table and picked up Murielle’s phone. It was next to a coffee cup and saucer. “And looky here. Two packs of Equal, just like you said.”
“Charlie, she was here, okay? But she left. She must have left her phone.”
Just then, Charlie heard a muffled scream coming from the basement.
“What’s that, Jacob? You got some mighty loud rats down there. Why don’t you get your ass over here and take me down into the basement?”
“Not gonna happen, Charlie.” With that, Roessler pulled out a gun from his pocket and aimed it straight at Charlie Winston.
“What? You gonna kill me, now, Jacob?”
“Well, I am already guilty of kidnapping and treason and terrorism. What’s one more life sentence for murder going to do?”
“Jacob, you think I am stupid enough to come over here all by myself without backup? I have Atlanta PD just waiting outside.”
“Yeah, Charlie, I think you are that stupid.” With that, he shot Winston in the stomach. The bullet passed through Winston and lodged into Roessler’s front door. Winston crumpled to the floor in surprise and confusion. Maroon blood started pouring out onto Roessler’s wood floor. Roessler walked over to Winston.
“You know, Charlie, you really should have called the police first. Oh, by the way, that water you gave me. It’s miraculous just like you said. Real Fountain of Youth. Cures the Ebola Virus and everything.” Roessler sat down next to Winston on the floor.
“You know, Charlie, all this terrorism stuff. It’s tiring, you know. I am really feeling my age these days. But it’s nothing that some of that miracle water can’t cure, right?” Roessler pulled out Winston’s last bottle of Boyuca water from his bag and drank it down, while Winston looked on helplessly. “Ahh, now that’s refreshing. I feel like a new man!”
“You’ll never get away with it,” Winston whispered through labored breath.
“Sure, I will. Fortunately, Charlie, you and I are about the same height. So I am going to give you my old wallet with my ID, my religious medal with my initials on it, my watch, and my car keys.” He put the wallet and keys in Winston’s pocket, the medal around his neck, and the watch on his wrist. “Then I am going to take your wallet, and your watch, and your car keys, and drive off in your car. That way, when my house burns down, and all that is left is your body and Murielle’s body, they will think you are me. And then all I have to do is plant some evidence at your house, and voila, you are the angry husband who found out that his wife was having an affair and murdered his wife and her lover, and then went on the run. Simple stuff, don’t you think?”
Roessler pulled out of the kitchen cupboard a brown bottle of white powder, a test tube clamped on an upright rod, and a pack of gummy bears. He placed the rod with the test tube near the kitchen drapes in the kitchen. Using a spoon, he put some of the white powder into the test tube and heated it up briefly with his cigarette lighter. Roessler put his head down near the floor where Winston was lying and bleeding.
“You like gummy bears, Charlie? Here, have some gummy bears.” Roessler put the sweet candies in Winston’s mouth. “Charlie, you see this white powder? That’s potassium chlorate. Did you know what happens when you add gummy bears to potassium chlorate? Roman Candle. It’s good stuff. I’ll see you around, Charlie.”
Roessler threw in a few gummy bears into the test tube and it immediately ignited like a hot road flare. Roessler chuckled and rolled the black suitcase out of the house, closing the door behind him. The flare from the test tube was getting hotter and higher. Within thirty seconds, it had ignited the curtains and was spreading to the ceiling. Winston could hear his wife screaming for help in the basement, but there was nothing he could do. He was shot and couldn’t move. He and his wife were going to die here for sure. After everything he went through on the island to get back here. His son would lose both of his parents tonight. Teddy, he thought, as the smoke started to engulf the room. Teddy….
He passed out for what seemed like only a few seconds. In the smoke he thought for some strange reason he saw his son Teddy running towards him. That couldn’t be true, of course. Teddy was paralyzed. It was just a nice dream. That meant he was surely dying.
“Daddy!”
Now that definitely sounded like Teddy, he thought. He squinted through the smoke.
“Daddy, I can walk!”
“What?” Winston started laughing. It hurt terribly with his gunshot wound, but it felt good all the same. He started crying. His boy was standing and kneeling over him. He could really walk! “How is that possible?”
“Daddy, be still now and don’t talk. I am going to help you. It’s Grapey, Daddy. Grapey is a magic snake!” He took out the purple snake and put it on his father’s stomach where the bullet hole went through the front and out his back.
“What the…?” asked Winston.
“Daddy, shhh. Grapey is magic. Just wait….”
Meanwhile, the fire was spreading across the ceiling and was covering one wall. Winston looked down and the snake appeared to be secreting a filmy brown oil. The oil oozed its way over the bullet wound. For a moment, Winston thought he felt a little better. Then he felt a lot better. He looked down at the purple snake, which was coiling over his torso, and the bullet wound was healing!
“Hey, hey, hey! Look at that! It is getting better!” Within another thirty seconds, the wound was closed up enough for Winston to stand up. Teddy put the purple snake back around his neck.
“Teddy, get out of the house, now! I am going to go get Mom!”
Teddy obeyed and ran out of the house. Yes, he “ran” out of the house! Winston marveled at his son. He paused for only a moment to see the wonderful sight, and then dove into the basement to find his wife, with the flames quickly engulfing the first floor. Quickly, he located the key to the wine cabinet and opened it up. There she was, on the floor, suffering from cold, malnutrition, dehydration, and a gunshot wound to the leg.
“Charlie! Thank God! Is Teddy okay?”
“He’s more than okay. Wait until you see him. Now, we have to get out of here.”
Winston ran up the stairs, carrying his wife, but a wall of fire greeted him at the top of the steps. Winston turned and looked back down the stairs. In the corner of the room, he saw a small window near the top of the wall. Using a piece of loose wood in the basement, he smashed out the window. Clearing the glass fragments, he shoved his wife out through the hole. As he turned around, the fire had spread down the wooden basement staircase. Soon every one of those wine bottles was going to go up in flames. He pushed his wife out as fast as he could. Then he dove on top of the washer-dryer and lunged into the open window. Grabbing on to the window ledge, he pulled himself up and out onto the lawn. His wife was lying on the lawn, exhausted. Teddy came running over and knelt down next to his Mom.
“Mommy! Are you okay?” Murielle just stared at her son in disbelief, not comprehending how he could be walking. “Am I in heaven?” she asked.
Winston grabbed his wife up and sprinted across the yard. “C’mon, Teddy let’s go!” Winston ran across the yard, carrying his wife, and Teddy ran behind him. They went across the street, resting behind a parked car, as the Roessler house exploded in flames. Murielle Winston cringed in shock at the explosion. Teddy Winston put the purple snake back in his cage and then grabbed onto his dad’s shoulder.
“Mommy, did you see what Grapey did? I can walk! I knew Dad could find the Fountain of Youth! I just knew it!”
“What? Charlie, you found the Fountain of Youth, and Teddy can walk? Am I in a dream?”
“Every day is a dream with you, baby! I’m just so glad that you are safe. I missed you so much! Now let’s go home and we’ll tell you all about it. Wait a minute, we can’t go home. Jacob took my car. That reminds me, Teddy, how did you get here?”
“I took him,” said the smiling grandmother, who walked up behind the family. “A short time after you left, Charlie, I heard a scream coming from Teddy’s room. I ran in there, and that purple snake was crawling on him. I thought he had been bitten by the thing. I almost killed the thing when Teddy started screaming, ‘I can wiggle my toes! I can wiggle my toes!’ And as God is my witness, his toes were moving. I just couldn’t believe it. I was so excited I tried calling you on your phone, but I couldn’t reach you, and Teddy said there was a doo-hickey on his iPhone that could help him find you. So that’s how we got here. And while I was getting dressed to drive Teddy over here, I looked up, and there was Teddy, standing in my doorway with a big goofy grin on his face. And I tell you, Charlie, I have never seen such a beautiful sight in all my life. That is, until right now!”
Winston could hear the sirens in the background. As Winston and his family walked down the street to the grandmother’s car, they were surrounded by police cars. Although they tried to explain that they could not wait around to answer questions, the police were adamant that they remain. They stayed on the street, wrapped in blankets, speaking to the police for the next hour. Winston left out the part about the snake and the miracle cure, and getting shot. The police were initially suspicious when Winston produced Roessler’s wallet, and no identification, but after Winston gave the explanation, the police seemed satisfied for now.
When they were finished, Murielle phoned Bjorn Jendel and gave him the news. After some time, Jendel was able to get through to the correct parties at the FBI, but by that time, Roessler was gone. However, Charlie Winston’s description of Roessler carrying a black bag helped. That meant that Roessler was probably on a plane, and there were very few planes which left that late from Atlanta at night—only three in fact. One went to New York City and had already landed in New York. One went to Berlin. And a third went to Paris. They hoped he had not gone to New York. Agents from the CIA waited in Paris and Berlin. Jendel had sent over a photo of Roessler. If he had boarded one of those international flights, they would find him.
Washington, D.C. The White House.
The President was nervous. If the last warehouse was destroyed, they would have no way to cure infected Americans, and there was no guarantee now that the virus was not going to get out. Sheila Simms recommended that they pay the money, but not kill the Serbians and Dutch prisoners or have President Clinton apologize.
“Madame President, it looks to me like the scientists and Cezanne have completely different agendas. Cezanne obviously just wants the money. The scientists care about killing the war criminals and getting Clinton to apologize. Judging from the video, Cezanne and his cousin have control over the warehouses. If we pay him what he wants, it is highly unlikely he will care about what happens to the Serbians and Dutch people on that list, or whether President Clinton apologizes. We tell the terrorists that the money is being deposited in the requested account, and as a show of good faith, they must give us the address of the last warehouse. Then we say we need more time, another 48 hours, to round up the people on the list. That puts Cezanne and the scientists at odds. Cezanne won’t care about the list, and he won’t want to wait 48 hours for the money. He’ll give up the warehouse even if the scientists object. We get the antidote, get everybody cured, and then all we have to do is trace the money. We trace the money and we find Cezanne. Then we cut a couple years off his sentence if he gives up the location of the scientists.”
The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs disagreed. “Madame President, you agree to that, and you are violating the established doctrine of the United States that we do not negotiate with terrorists. Once terrorists around the world see that we are giving in, it will be open season on American citizens. Just hijack a bus of school kids and demand a billion dollars. They’ll pay it. We cannot, we must not, give in to this blackmail.”
“If we don’t give in,” said the President, “there won’t be any school kids because they will all be dead of the Ebola virus. We simply can’t risk it. I am confident that our financial people will be able to trace the money. We will find him eventually. Right now, we need that antidote, and neither the C.D.C., nor USAMRIID, nor any lab in the country, has an effective cure right now. Sheila, arrange for the wire transfer, and make sure the money is tracked.”
Sydney, Australia.
Julio Cezanne had traveled from Trinidad to Peru and then to Australia on Qantas Airlines. He wanted to be near Venuatu in case the President gave in and transferred the money. An hour ago, he had received a message from the Government of the United States on the digital bulletin board of a pre-arranged Internet dating site. The e-mail read:
“Funds are ready to be deposited upon receipt of the address of the warehouse. As a show of good faith, ten per cent is being deposited now. The remaining ninety percent will be deposited upon confirmation on our end that the cure is effective. As far as the other demands, we need more time, at least another 48 hours. We have not located everyone on the list, and PC is traveling internationally. Please post the address and the wire can proceed quickly.”
Those dumb-shits are actually going to pay the money, thought Cezanne. Cezanne called the banker in Venuatu.
“Cezanne, you are not going to believe it, but they sent some of the money. $2.5 billion! I siphoned off the $50M processing fee. Is the rest coming or not?”
“I’m working on it,” said Cezanne. “I will call you back.”
Cezanne posted on the dating site:
“It’s in Canada. Now post the next ten per cent and you will get more information.”