Page 84 of Airborne
“Sir, my baby comes first. I know my limits.”
“Thanks.”
Heather spent the next several minutes on her phone reading through all secure and available information on Thomas Amadeus Powell. His brother also shared an unusual middlename—Wolfgang. Maybe hopeful expectations for a parent’s love of music.
Difficult to believe a man of Thomas’s caliber possessed the motive to kill. His charitable contributions and business practices were emulated by countless entrepreneurs. Online and print articles cheered him on. Colleges and universities applauded his philanthropy. Why would Powell risk all he had to spread a virus? With millions of dollars, power, and international contacts, what did he lack that lined him up as a killer? What, if anything, was hidden beneath his facade?
Heather concentrated on the traits of power and control, the ability to dominate and build self-importance. Chad fit those traits—so did Thomas. She’d studied the profiles of those who’d committed unimaginable atrocities. Positioning herself to befriend Thomas was a challenge... and a probable waste of time.
A text from Jordan seized her attention.
Aflight attendant just passed.
Who?
Nathan Howard
Flashes of his caring, kindness, and fear on board the flight swept through her mind. She closed her eyes and let the tears flow.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
CHAD RETURNED HOMEfrom a neurologist appointment and texted Andy using the burner phone.
This is Doc C. New phone. Are you available for a call?
Sure thing.
If anyone could assist in discreet, amateur detective work, Andy fit the bill. While the FBI hadn’t found a bug in his phone, he wasn’t taking any chances. Chad pressed in Andy’s number. He hadn’t spoken to his assistant since the day the FBI had swept hislab.
“Hey, Andy. I apologize for not checking in. I went through the whole feel-sorry-for-me game. Trying to recover. How are you?”
“Bored out of my mind. Heard what happened in New York. What’s the deal?”
He gave a thirty-second overview of why the trip to Jamaica Hospital, Heather’s negative reaction, and the attack. “The neurologist did an eval this morning. Told me I had a concussion.” Chad chuckled to lighten the mood.
“Not funny, Doc C. Need some company while your head heals? We can talk shop or whatever you want.”
“Sounds like a plan. Would you bring me a large bottle of extra-strength Tylenol?”
In thirty minutes, Andy arrived with his laptop and the Tylenol. Chad had freshly brewed coffee ready. The essentials. They set up in the living area, where Chad took advantage of the sofa.
“I’m sorry about your rotten luck,” Andy said. “You tried to do the right thing by supporting Heather, and you’re punched. How did anyone know you were in New York?”
Chad relayed the hack into his email. “For your ears only. I assume the same person informed the media of my flight times and Heather’s hospitalization. I can’t blame reporters when they have a job to do. Face it, I look guilty. What’s important is finding who developed and released the virus and if there’s an antiviral. The FBI, CDC, and law enforcement are working to the same end, but I wish they’d speed up the process.”
“I’m right there with you. I suppose the FBI suspect me, too.”
“Count on it.”
Andy stood and waved his empty mug. “I’m telling you this has Heather’s signature stamped on it. She’s getting even.”
“You could be right.”
“I need more coffee before we talk about how to make sense of what’s happened.” He filled his mug and added two packets of raw sugar.
“Are you interested in helping me clear my name?”
“Are you kidding?” Andy whirled around and grinned. “We work in a lab filled with crazy dangers. I’m fearless. Bring it on.”
