Page 78 of Airborne
Chad inwardly groaned at the textbook-formal-Quantico answer. “You traced the source? Who’s responsible?”
“Only as far as an IP address in Spain. We aren’t excluding additional exposure based on hacks to your online activity. They’ve covered their tracks with the use of a virtual private network.”
Chad craved a clear head, but his brain needed to mend first. “Whoever is responsible doesn’t know you’re tracking them?”
“Theoretically. We can lead the hacker to exposure as long as the person isn’t aware of what we’ve discovered. If someone is smart enough to develop the virus and invest in these tactics, they have an expert watching any online activity.”
“Which means the FBI has no way to identify them?”
“Our tech team is on it. We’re monitoring things, and I’ll notify you when an answer is available.”
“Agent McNally,” Heather said, “this is the first I’ve heard threats were made. It’s irrelevant at this point. My concern is sincethe H9N15 case is termed terrorism, doesn’t that put a priority on nailing the hacker?”
“Yes.” He turned to Chad. “I suggest you tell me everything you haven’t already told the FBI in Houston.”
“If I had evidence, I’d give it to you.” Chad closed his eyes in an effort to sound coherent. He wanted to say the good guys and the bad guys were after him. But he’d resolved to sound less self-centered.
“Is the name Braden Taversty familiar?”
Chad sighed, a mix of the hammer to his head and frustration. “Agent Rivera and I discussed him. He was in the news as a suspect for the virus. He died here at the hospital. Never met him or corresponded with him.”
“Decker Anslow?”
“Agent Rivera asked me about him, too. Taversty and Anslow are strangers to me. Who is this Anslow guy? How is he connected?”
“Isn’t important.”
“Then why have you and Rivera brought up his name?”
“Just part of the investigation,” McNally said. “Are you planning to return to Houston tonight in your condition?”
“Yes. I’ll request an Uber as soon as we’re done here. Agent Rivera has my flight itinerary.”
“I’ll drive you to the airport.”
Might keep him from another beating. “All right.”
McNally handed him his devices, and Chad stuffed them into his backpack.
“Change nothing about your email patterns or behavior. We don’t want to clue the hacker in on what we’ve discovered.”
Chad’s head beat harder. Focusing was a challenge. “Why not set up a separate email address for a trap?”
“We have eyes on your email. It’s being monitored by our techs. We will find out who’s behind this.” McNally walked to the door. “I’ll get my car and text you when I’m ready.”
“Whoa,” Chad said. “You told me in the ER those who were in the lobby faced interviews. Who attacked me?”
McNally huffed. “No one saw a thing.”
“You mean no one saw the man suspected of developing a life-threatening virus knocked unconscious? A crowd of reporters shoved mics in my face and snapped pics. Doesn’t the hospital have security cameras?” Chad gripped his fists to manage the pain. “I’m done,” he whispered. “I’ll sort this out at home.”
“Dr. Lawrence, we have agents on every angle. The man who did this to you avoided security cameras. Media still swarm the lobby, so I’ll arrange another exit point. Hospital security will escort you to my car.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
AT THE AIRPORT,Chad purchased a burner phone, activated it, and texted the number to Jordan and Javier. He also bought a Bible and challenged himself to read it because God meant so much to Heather. While the last seat in business class offered slight comfort, the flight home weakened his ability to fight the steady throb of his injuries, and a stay in New York centered on illogical. Why put himself in the line for another attack or worse—endanger Heather or Jordan?
In Houston, the taxi ride to his apartment jarred his bruised brains and sore muscles. He closed his door and double-bolted it behind him. Pain meds with a concussion made little sense when he lived alone. Instead, he set his phone alarm to go off every two hours, took three Tylenol, then walked around his apartment before giving in to another two hours of sleep.
