Page 59 of Airborne
“Agent Lawrence, if we believed you participated in the crime, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. We appreciate your answers to our questions. We’re interviewing business and personal acquaintances and the organizational affiliations who have any dealings with Chad, Parker, or Sonya. Two terrorist groups are taking credit with no proof, and we’re making inquiries.”
“Have you questioned the Kareys?”
“Everyone has been interviewed. Nothing hit our radar about the couple until now. If they are behind the virus, they’ve covered their tracks. Can you get closer to Sonya?”
“I’ll try. She doesn’t say much. Her body language tells me she’s bullied, does whatever Parker tells her, and they’re always together. But it wouldn’t be the first time a man took orders from a woman.”
“Do any others in quarantine have your attention?”
“Just frightened people whose lives are upside down.” She glanced at Jordan, who gave her a thin-lipped smile. “I’m concerned my efforts to befriend the people have been met with opposition. But I’ll continue. Those in isolation at Jamaica Hospital seemed pleased when I offered to call their families, which I’ve done. May I remain in contact with the patients?”
Jordan spoke up. “I can give you the direct number to each person’s room. If any of them refuse communication, for the sake of their well-being, I expect you to honor their wishes.”
“I understand.” Now she comprehended why Jordan listened to the conversations—welfare of the patient and a report to the FBI of her loyalty. She wasn’t upset. Every precaution needed to be taken.
“Dr. Radcom, keep us updated. Heather, do whatever it takes to get close to the Kareys,” Bischoff said. “You’re the best, Heather. We’re counting on you.”
Heather left Jordan’s office with her mind in investigativemode. She’d done her homework on the Kareys. Updates gave her more information. Ten years ago while in college, Parker was arrested for possession of an illegal substance. Nothing since then. He’d recently been dismissed during a downsizing of an oil company. Sonya taught second grade for Houston Independent School District. They’d filed bankruptcy. They liked to collect things. Problem was, they couldn’t pay for their expensive tastes—two Harleys, two new cars, a boat, high mortgage payments, and credit card debt. The one-way tickets to Frankfurt necessitated an explanation—unless one of them had a job to cure their financial woes. Or they’d arranged for a payoff.
What the people on board flight3879 experienced must never happen again.
Heather dropped her phone into her shoulder bag and walked back toward her room. There she’d weigh all she’d compiled about the flight, manifest, Taversty, Chad, and the Kareys. She zeroed in on the women in her dorm, but they’d been cleared and Maria’s condition at Jamaica Hospital declined. She’d scrutinized every person in quarantine, examined their records, and studied them again. Had her ability to read people slipped?
Terror coiled around her heart. Other agents claimed she saw personality issues before others. Agent Heather Lawrence had the punctual, organized, manicured, and compassionate set of standards going for her. She’d lived up to it by filing away at the rough places in her life. Then her life crumbled. She still had professionalism in her walk and talk. Right?
Heather turned a corner into the hallway. The Kareys and Thomas talked together.
“There’s our destroyer of dreams,” Parker said. “Hope you’re careful. The rocks near the water are treacherous.”
Heather stopped and marched toward the threesome. “Mr. Karey, twice you’ve threatened me.”
“Can’t prove it.” He sneered.
Thomas lifted his gray eyes that were neither warm nor hostile. “Agent Lawrence, as a federal agent you have a right to arrest Parker, and I wouldn’t blame you. He might consider an apology instead of facing a different type of isolation.”
“Please,” Sonya whispered, “apologize.”
Heather waited, allowing her irritation to simmer.
“You misunderstood me,” Parker said without eye contact. “I was suggesting everyone should be careful walking the shoreline. The rocks are treacherous.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
FRIDAY LATE MORNING,Chad paced his apartment, a man locked in a dungeon not of his own making. If all went well, he envisioned opening his lab later tonight. The FBI said they’d have their test results for H9N15 in three days, and that was hours away.
Who’d flashed the phony image of him and Braden Taversty across the Internet? Somebody fed the media just enough candy for the vultures to crave more. He silenced his devices until he had the intestinal fortitude to read the reports.
Who was he kidding? His career had exploded, and not in a good way. Jordan had used “on hold” to describe his CDC position. He poured a third cup of coffee, though his stomach burned from drinking the stuff on an empty stomach.
Solitude had never bothered him, actually his preferred method of concentration. He longed for the comforts of his lab, familiar sights and the hum of equipment. The satisfaction of contributingto the welfare of the world soothed him. The trick would be how to leave his apartment without an onslaught of reporters.
His doorbell rang, and he stared at it while anger burned hot for the unfairness. Next came the incessant knocking.
The doorbell repeated, and the person knocked. Chad walked to the door to see who was on the other side of the peephole. A text sounded.
This is Agent Javier Rivera outside your door. We need to talk.
Are agents with you?
