Author’s note: This story takes place several weeks after the events in PATIENT ZERO
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Echo Team: Case File Report / DMS-ET 82fd1118
Events of August 16 / Prepared August 17, 11:30 A.M.
Team Leader: Captain Joseph Edwin Ledger
Preamble to the official statement of Dr. Rudy Sanchez:
I personally tested Captain Ledger and his men. Blood and urine, a full workup. There is no presence of alcohol or any controlled substance. Standard interview and psychological profiles demonstrate post-traumatic stress and nervous tension typical with recent combat, plus a degree of heightened nervousness that I believe should be ascribed to the unusual nature of the events as described by the members of Echo Team.
From the analysis of a voluntary polygraph test:
All three men were tested separately. I oversaw each test. Each man was given a number of unsequenced control questions as well as the set of questions prepared by Mr. Church. These questions were introduced randomly and without preamble. There is nothing in their responses or on the polygraph tape to suggest that any of them provided false or exaggerated answers. As disturbing and unlikely as it appears, these men believe that they saw and experienced everything exactly as described in Captain Ledger’s after-action report and in the private interviews with Dr. Sanchez, Aunt Sallie, and Mr. Church.
Handwritten note included in Mr. Church’s private copy of Dr. Sanchez’s psychological evaluation of Captain Joseph Edwin Ledger, First Sergeant Bradley Sims and Staff Sergeant Harvey Rabbit. Note reads:
Per your question of earlier today . . . yes, I am certain that they believe that these events occurred. Please bear in mind the troubled history of that town. It has had far more than its share of troubles for many years. I respectfully but firmly decline your offer to go there and investigate matters for myself. No thank you! --RS
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The Warehouse
Department of Military Sciences Baltimore Field Office
August 16; 8:19 A.M.
One Day Ago . . .
“God— please! They’re killing me here. You got to get me out of this. Jesus Christ, you said this wouldn’t happen.”
I leaned forward to listen to the voice. Even with the distortion of a bad digital file, I could hear the raw terror—the urgency.
“When did this come in?” I asked.
My boss, Mr. Church, sat on the other side of the conference table. He was neatly dressed, the knot of his tie perfect, his face impassive. But I wasn’t fooled. This had to be hitting him every bit as hard as it was me.
“That’s the problem,” he said. “This message is three days old.”
“Three days? How the hell—?”
Church held up a hand.
I paused, dialing it down a notch. “How did this get missed? Burke’s handler should have called us right away.”
“The handler didn’t get this until this morning.”
“Then how—?”
“This message was left on the home phone of the Special Agent in Charge.” He let that float in the air for a moment.
“Wait,” I said, “home phone?”
“Yes,” said Church, “and isn’t that interesting. Simon Burke would have had no way of knowing who the AIC was, let alone having access to his home number.”
“Did the handler get a call?”
Church opened a folder and slid it across the table toward me. “These are the phone records for the handler, Dykstra. The top page is the direct line to Burke’s safe house. The next pages are Dykstra’s cell and home numbers. The previous call from Burke was the routine check-in last week. Nothing since then. Nothing from a pay phone or from any other line that Burke could have used.”
“The handler’s cell . . . ”
“No,” said Church. “There is no identifiable incoming call on any line associated with the AIC or the handler that could have resulted in that message.”
I frowned. “I don’t understand. If Burke left a message then there has to be a record.”
Church said nothing. He selected a vanilla wafer from a plate of cookies, which sat between us on the table. He nibbled off a piece and munched it thoughtfully, his eyes never leaving my face.”
I said, “Then someone got to the records. Altered them.”
“Mm. Difficult, but possible.” He sounded dubious.
“Or . . . they have a way to erase their tracks, remove all traces of the call.”
“Also possible, but . . . ”
“ . . . even more difficult,” I finished.
He said nothing. He didn’t have to. There were very few computer systems in the world capable of the kind of thorough hacking like what we were discussing; and even then there was only one computer that couldn’t be fooled by any of the others, and that was MindReader. That was our computer. It was a freak among computers, designed to be a ghost, to intrude into any other system and then rewrite its memory so that there was absolutely no footprint. All other computers left a bit of a scar on the hard drive. Not MindReader. And Church guarded that system like a dragon. Not even the President had access to it without Church personally signing him in.
“Okay,” I said, “could someone have gotten to the answering machine directly and recorded a message onto it from the AIC’s house?”
“No. Dykstra uses a service provided by AT&T and the messages are stored on their server. And if the call was made from Dykstra’s home phone, there would be a record of that.”
“And there isn’t.”
“No.”
I reached over and took an Oreo from the plate. I can’t come up with any good reason why a sane person would bother with vanilla wafers when the chocolaty goodness of Oreos was right there. It added to my growing suspicion that Church was a Vulcan.
“Who’s looking for Burke?”
“The FBI has been looking for him since nine this morning. Except for us, no one else is in the loop.”
“Local law?”
“They are definitely out of the loop. There have been some concerns about the police department there, though admittedly that was under previous management. The current chief has no strikes against him but otherwise he’s an unknown quantity. This matter was deemed too sensitive to be shared with him.”
“Even now?”
Church pursed his lips. “Only with direct supervision.”
“Which doesn’t mean the FBI.”
“No.” Church ate more of his cookie. “We’ve backtracked to a few hours before the call was left on Dykstra’s voicemail and found nothing. Burke has not used a credit card or made transactions of any kind under his own name. His car is still parked in his garage.”
I sighed. “I’m not liking the spin on this one, Boss. Burke’s not a player. He might know in theory how to stay off the grid, but I can’t see him managing it without making a mistake. Not for this long, not without help.”
“Doubtful. And there’s one more thing.”
I waited, knowing that Church would save the kicker for last. “Burke’s clever. His whole life is built around creating plots that his readers won’t see coming. Apparently he’s used this same gift against his handler. We hacked the confidential reports between the handler and the AIC, and Burke’s clearly gone missing four times previously. Not for long, a matter of a few hours each time. The handler eventually realized that Burke was using a bicycle to get into town or out of town via one of the two bridges. I had Bug do computer pattern sweeps on commerce records of stores within bicycle distance of the safe house. We’ve been able to establish that on the dates in question, and inside the window of time, there were purchases of six disposable cell phones. Burke has been making calls.”