Fordyce approached the guard, ID in one hand, shield in the other. “Stone Fordyce, Federal Bureau of Investigation,” he said, his aggressive tone almost implying the guard himself was a suspect. “And this is Dr. John Martino of the Centers for Disease Control. He doesn’t have any ID at present, but I can vouch for him.”
This statement hung in the air. Fordyce did not offer an explanation for why Gideon had no ID, and after a hesitation the guard seemed disinclined to ask for one.
“Do you have an appointment?” the guard asked.
“No,” said Fordyce almost before the guard had finished asking the question.
“Um, the purpose of your visit?” he asked.
“Routine law enforcement activity,” said Fordyce, his tone now becoming impatient.
The man nodded, pulled out a clipboard, slid it through a slit in the glass. “Fill this out, please. Both of you. And sign.”
Fordyce filled out a line, passed it to Gideon, who used a suitably quasi-illegible hand. They passed it back.
“Stand in front of the camera,” the guard directed.
They each stood before the camera. A minute later, newly issued clip badges were slipped through the slot. A moment later, the steel entrance door buzzed and they were let in.
Fordyce motioned the guard over. “I’d like to ask you a few questions.” Again, his tone implied suspicion.
“Yes, sir?” the guard, already intimidated, stood almost at attention.
“Has a Mr. Simon Blaine signed in?”
The guard hesitated, again decided to go with the flow, and checked his clipboard. “No, sir.”
“How about a Mr. Novak?”
“No.”
“Does either of them have an appointment in the building today?”
Another check. “Not on my sheet, sir.”
“All right. Dr. Martino needs to gain access to the Level Four lab. How can he do that?”
“It’s on keypad security, you have to get clearance and an escort.”
“Who’s in charge?”
A hesitation. “He should contact Dr. Glick, the director.”
“His location?”
“Third floor, Room Three Forty-six. Shall I call him—?”
“ Absolutely not,” said Fordyce forcefully. He glanced at the man’s ID badge. “Mr. Bridge, here’s what’s going to happen. I will need your help, so please listen carefully.”
He paused.
“I’m going to move into the waiting room, there, mostly out of sight, and wait for Mr. Blaine to arrive. You will not indicate my presence or acknowledge that an FBI agent is on the premises.”
At this the guard swallowed and seemed to grow flustered. “Is there something wrong? I mean, maybe I should call my boss, the head of security—”
Fordyce interrupted him. “Do not call anyone. If you’re concerned about this, and really feelyou need to check up on me, you can speak to mysupervisor, Special Agent in Charge Mike Bocca, of the DC field office.” He took out his cell phone and looked poised to dial, his expression one of extreme annoyance.
“No, no,” said the guard, “that’s not necessary.”
“Good. You will please continue working as if nothing out of the ordinary was going on.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Thank you,” said Fordyce, his voice suddenly warmer, giving the man a handshake. “Good man.”
The guard retreated behind his counter. Gideon watched Fordyce cross the lobby and take a seat in a small waiting area, in the corner, where he could see but not readily be seen. He’s learning, Gideon thought to himself. Then he continued on into the guts of the building, following the helpful signs directing him toward Level 4.
66
Almost as soon as Gideon had disappeared down the hall, Stone Fordyce took out his cell phone and dialed Myron Dart’s telephone number. Fordyce had to intimidate his way through several subordinates before getting Dart himself on the phone.
The man came on, sounding tense. “Fordyce? What the hell is this all about? I thought you were, ah, taking time off.”
Fordyce took a deep breath. He had been going over this conversation in his mind for a while, thinking of the best way to approach it.
“I’m in Maryland…” He took a deep breath. “With Gideon Crew.”
This was met with a sudden silence. “Maryland? WithCrew?” A freezing silence. “You’d better explain yourself.”
“We’re here following a bombshell lead. And I mean bombshell. You’ve got to listen to what I have to tell you.”
Another long silence, then a faint, muffled conversation. Fordyce wondered if Dart was initiating a triangulation on his cell signal. It’s what he would do, if he were in Dart’s place.
When Dart finally spoke again, his voice was like black ice. “I want to know exactly where you are and what you are doing.”
Fordyce plowed ahead. “I’ve got a laptop computer belonging to a certain individual, and on this computer is a document dated six years ago that spells out the entire terrorist plan, from beginning to end. It explains everything.”
Another long silence. “The name of this individual?”
“I’ll get to that in a moment.”
“You’ll tell me right now.”
Again Fordyce moved ahead. “I’ve got the computer with me, and if you’ll give me your email address I’ll send you the document.”
“You are insubordinate, Fordyce. I want you to take Crew into custody and come in right now, with Crew in handcuffs and leg irons, or I’ll have you arrested as an accomplice.”
“Give me your email address and I’ll send you this document.” Fordyce kept his voice steady, neutral. This wasn’t a good start. God, he hoped Gideon hadn’t been right about Dart. He had to get the man to seethe document.
After a long, ticking silence, Dart finally gave him the address. Fordyce typed it into the computer and mailed off the document.
He continued holding the line. They must have located his position by now. It was the chance he had to take—whatever Gideon thought, this was too big for the two of them to handle. Either Dart would believe him or not.
A minute ticked by. Two minutes.
“Did you get it?” he asked.
“Just a moment,” Dart replied. His voice sounded thick, distracted. Another minute passed. Fordyce could hear Dart’s breathing. When he came back on, his voice had changed. It was steadier, calm. “Where did you get this?”
“Off a computer owned by Simon Blaine, the novelist.”
“But…in what context?”
“It’s a proposal for a thriller.”
“Who else knows about it?”
“Just Gideon.”
“What the hellare you doing teamed up with Crew?”
“He’s the one who found it.”
“It’s obviously a fake!” Dart suddenly exploded. “Gideon fabricated this—and you fell for it hook, line, and sinker!”
“No, no, no. Impossible. It was on an encrypted computer. Ibroke the encryption.”
“How the devil did he get this computer?”
“It’s a long story. The important thing is, today is N-Day. Which means today is the day they’re going to steal the smallpox.”
A beat. “You actually believethis?”
“Yes. I do. I’m certain of it.”
“And you’re at Fort Detrick now?”
“You know I am.”
“My God.” Another crackling silence.
“You need to get some troops out here, sir. Right now.”
“How can I believe this?”
“You can’t afford notto. A dozen troops would secure the place. Even if it turns out to be a hoax, you surely can spare the manpower—as insurance.”
“Yes…yes. I see your logic. But… All our military assets have been moved out of Fort Detrick. There’s nobody left on the base but low-level people, civilian doorshakers and a few scientists.” A silence. “Hold the line.”