Valère and Roland nodded in unison. Emilio shook his head. “I am with you, but I do not agree. We risk more by trying to ‘tie up’ these loose ends than we do in just letting them run their course. Can we not let this particular one go?”
“No. It’s not a matter of ‘risk,’ it’s a matter of principle,” Roland said. “I won’t let anything like this slip. It’s not in my nature to let things get out of my control.”
They all knew that to be true, but the other man was still persistent. “If something happens, and this leaks before we’re ready…”
“Let’s vote on it.” Roland spoke louder, obviously trying to control the conversation. “That was the agreement, was it not?”
“What is the proposition?” Valère asked.
“We take necessary action to prevent any of these ‘externalities’ from becoming too knowledgeable. We postpone the media’s involvement for another day, and use that time to talk through our strategy once again. The extra time will help settle us, and it will help our contingency do what it can to snuff out these little discrepancies.”
“So,” Valère said, “you suggest we use part of the allotment we’ve been given for containment and eradication?”
Roland smiled. “I do. What good is a dragon, then, without its fire?”
The two other men considered this. It would only take one more of them to agree with the man’s decision before this plan would be enacted. Valère looked at the two men, measuring the addendum to their plan against the alternatives.
He pushed his steak around on the plate once more, toppling the castle and destroying his sanctuary.
“I agree. This is the best option for us at this moment.” He looked up at Roland. “Alert your chosen men and deliver their objective.”
It had been exactly fifteen minutes, and the waitress entered. All three men put on their most unassuming smiles as she hovered over them, refilling their water glasses.
Chapter Seventeen
The truck pulled up to the opening of an alley, and Julie told Ben to take a left down the narrow road. Run-down apartments and worn out buildings towered over them on each side as the truck bumped over potholes and through puddles of brown liquid.
“Seems like a pretty fancy place you’ve got here,” Ben said.
The truck lurched over a deep pothole and bounced wildly as the suspension tried to compensate. Ben knew that any other vehicle would have suffered damage, but the massive lifted truck handled each bump and dip in stride. The alley curved to the left, and the truck and its two passengers found themselves facing a wide, squat warehouse. Made of metal siding and covered with a shallow steel roof, the warehouse fit in well with its dim surroundings. Ben slowed the vehicle and glided it toward the building, aiming for the small parking lot in front.
“No,” Julie said. “Go around back. Park on the street.” Ben didn’t argue as he pressed the gas pedal and the truck lurched forward. “Most people assume this place is abandoned,” Julie said. “We’re okay with that, so we like to park on the street across from the health center.”
They found a parallel parking spot on the street at the back of the warehouse, and Ben pulled the truck into the space smoothly.
“Wow,” Julie said. “It took me about three weeks to be able to do that.” Ben gave her an obnoxious smirk, opened the door, and stepped to the curb. He waited for Julie and followed her around the side of the warehouse and up a short flight of stairs. Her hand rose to find a keypad lock on the door, and Ben watched as she typed in four numbers.
1234. A small LED on the door blinked green, and the locking mechanism clicked.
“1234. Really?” Ben asked.
“Well, we’re not the CIA,” Julie said.
“Let’s hope not.”
“Security let us create our own pass codes, and I can’t remember anything to save my life. I thought that would save time rather than calling in every morning for assisted entry.” She pushed the handle down, and the door slid open. Ben felt a wash of heat from the building’s interior fall over them as they stepped in.
“Let me check in with Livingston first,” she said. “If you don’t mind waiting by the front door…”
“Not at all. Take your time,” Ben said. He waited for thirty seconds as Julie walked down a short hallway and to the left. When she reappeared and motioned him forward, he joined her at the end of the hallway.
“He must be out golfing,” Julie said. “Let’s see if Stephens is in. He’s my assistant, but we’ve got him working on another case right now. He’ll at least appreciate that I’m checking in.”
This time she headed to the right, and as Ben followed, he realized how small the office complex really was. The hallway intersected with another that ran perpendicular, but then opened into one large workspace. Half a dozen cubicles were sprawled in the middle, with two closed-door offices around the exterior. The florescent lighting was either on a dim setting or someone had forgotten to replace many of the bulbs.
Julie led him to one of the cubicles and stopped in front of a thin man with his back to them.
“Hey, stranger,” she said. The man turned in his chair and stood. “Hey, boss. Good to see you. How was the trip? Fishing traps and insects, if I recall correctly?”
“Something else came up, as I’m sure you’ve heard. This is Ben,” she said. “Ben, meet Benjamin Stephens.”
Stephens extended his hand. “Nice name. Good to meet you.”
“It’s actually Harvey Bennett, but I go by Ben.” Ben looked Stephens up and down. Tall, wiry, with black horn-rimmed glasses to match his disheveled hair, the kid looked as if he were only sixteen years old and on his way to a comic book convention. Reacting to Ben’s stare, Stephens brushed his hair with a hand, trying to get it to lay flat.
“Ah, well. My mistake. And what do you do, Mr. Bennett?”
Julie interjected. “He works at Yellowstone. That’s why we’re here — any news?”
“Not much,” Stephens said. “It’s all over the web now, though.” He stepped to the side, revealing a triple wide monitor setup full of open tabs and browser windows. Just about every one that Ben could see was filled with reports of the Yellowstone incident and explosion.
CNN, Fox news, Yahoo!, and the Wall Street Journal.
“I’ve been following it since it broke about four hours ago,” he said. “You guys okay?”
“We’re fine,” Julie said. “I — we could use some coffee. Where’s Livingston?”
Stephens walked over to the wall where an antique coffee pot sat empty. He placed a filter in it and added water as he spoke. “It’s Thursday,” he said, as if that explained everything. “He’s golfing. Listen, there’s more to it than just the Yellowstone incident.”
Julie frowned. “What you mean?”
“About an hour ago, a local news station way up in the northern part of Minnesota released a statement regarding some sort of debilitating virus that’s killed two people. Husband and wife, up near the border. He was out hunting apparently, according to some neighbors, and she was waiting for him at home. Next thing they know, when the neighbors went to check on them, they were both dead.”
Ben just stood silently by as Julie and Stephens spoke. “Why do you think it’s related?” she asked. “Could’ve just been some sort of seasonal fever, or even a cold.”
“The bodies were found with a deep red rash covering their skin, and boils and welts over most of their body as well. The man was out in the snow, facedown. His wife was on the bathroom floor.”
“That’s terrible,” Julie said. “It sounds like he was trying to combat the heat of the fever with snow.” She looked toward Ben.