The Genesis Plague - Michael Byrnes [47]
There was a long acronym beside the insignia: USAMRIID. ‘I remember the two “I’s” in the name too,’ she said. ‘Reminded me of Roman numerals. Says here “United States Army Medical Research Institute for Infectious Diseases”.’
‘Exactly,’ Flaherty said. He let out another sigh. This assignment was fast snowballing into something much bigger. ‘Among other things, that’s America’s bio-weapons division.’
25
IRAQ
‘What do you mean she got away?’ Crawford snapped through the sat-com’s microphone in a loud whisper. He practically bit the filter off the Marlboro that dangled between his lips.
‘There was someone else there already. A detective, I think,’ the caller replied.
‘So?‘ He circled around the MRAP to avoid be overheard by the marines milling around the camp.
‘I had her pinned down. Was moving in to finish her. The guy came out of nowhere. Took me down with his car, started shooting. He managed to take her away.’
The inept assassin’s recap of what had transpired at the museum pushed Crawford’s rage to the boiling point. ‘Isn’t that Jim-fucking-dandy,’ Crawford spat. ‘You listen to me, you incompetent scumbag … You find her, you kill her. Or I’ll have your head, you hear me?’
‘I’m already tracking them. I’ll take care of it.’
‘You better be calling me real soon with good news.’ He terminated the call. He pulled a long drag on the cigarette, then flicked it at a scorpion scurrying through the sand. Deliberating on how to inform Stokes about the mishap, he finally settled on sending a text message - short and sweet. The he shut the phone and slid it into the pocket of his flak jacket.
Who was this detective that beat them to the archaeologist? Only someone on the inside could have sent him. Maybe Stokes had something up his sleeve. Seemed unlikely, because, even though Stokes wasn’t exactly the lucid soldier he’d known for so many years on the battlefield, he was no idiot. In fact, Stokes seemed hell-bent on covering his tracks, as evidenced by the way he’d commenced countermeasures the moment the cave was infiltrated by the militants. Considering the fact that the woman’s ID badge had been sitting next to Yaeger’s computer left little doubt as to the true culprit.
Crawford bounded over to the command tent where Sergeant Jason Yaeger and his linebacker-sized tech were helping the marines prepare the recon robot. They were loading gas canisters into the rotary magazine of what resembled an oversized tommy gun mounted on the robot. Crawford stood back a minute, reined in his fury, and considered how to approach Yaeger. Unfortunately, this clever kid was no automaton - wouldn’t be doing this kind of work if he was. Any guy who passed the psych profile to go deep cover wouldn’t be the type to back down or conform to protocol. If Yaeger had an agenda, he certainly wasn’t going to divulge it. Autonomy was poisonous, thought Crawford. Especially on the battlefield.
‘Yaeger,’ Crawford finally called out.
The mercenary looked up. ‘Yeah.’
‘Need a moment with you, son.’
Jason handed the last gas canister to Meat, then went over to the colonel.
‘Walk with me,’ Crawford said, pacing away from the tent.
Jason kept step beside him.
‘I need to know if you’ve spoken to anyone about what’s happening here.’
Jason’s response was forthright: ‘You, air command …’
‘Don’t be coy with me, Sergeant,’ Crawford warned. He needed to be direct, without raising undue suspicion. ‘Someone on the outside. Did you communicate with non-military, civilians perhaps?’
Jason was a master of reading between the lines. Best to answer him with a question. ‘Why would I do that?’ He could tell Crawford was unsure how to push the issue.
Crawford turned and tried to decipher Yaeger’s gaze, but read nothing. ‘Until we confirm exactly who’s holed up in that cave, I want all communication running through me. I know you want this guy in there to be Al-Zahrani. But until we’re absolutely certain, this operation has to be airtight. Let me have your sat-com.’ He held out his hand.
Jason