“You’re talking about the sample you’ve got in the freezer, right? Those boxes that were shipped back with you?”
Valère nodded. “We wished to also use this substance as a defense mechanism, just like the plant itself. However, I needed to strengthen it; to improve its potency —”
“You created a virus?”
“I discovered one, yes. In its natural state, it was barely enough to harm a small mammal, unless it is ingested in quantity. But with a few alterations and improvements —”
“What are you talking about?” Josh was horrified. “That’s not a medical application, Francis —”
“It does not concern you what the application is,” Francis said.
Josh stepped up to his ball and slammed his club down in a reckless swing. The ball flew off the ground, leaving a dirty streak of brown in the grass. He watched, his anger building, as the ball careened to the right and over the line of trees. Without turning back around, he began walking toward the trees to find it.
How could he do this? he wondered. Josh had been working with Valère for over three years, and he thought he knew the man. They both had been interested in preserving life through their work and science.
This sounded like the exact opposite.
He crashed through the thick bushes that marked the end of the golf course and the beginning of undeveloped land, and kept walking toward a stand of pine trees he’d last seen his ball flying toward. As he neared the trees, he could hear the sound of running water.
The trees stood like sentinels in front of a steep hill, standing guard over the cliff. The hill fell away at a steep angle down to a river, where he could see water tumbling over rocks and forming small rapids as it wound through the canyon.
What he didn’t see, however, was his ball.
“I believe it landed farther up,” his boss’s voice called out from behind him. Valère had driven their cart to the edge of the course and walked to Josh.
“You can’t do this, Valère. You can’t sell us out like that. Who’s buying, anyway?”
“It is not a matter of money —”
“Bullshit!” Josh yelled. “Of course it is! Why else would you have kept this from me?”
“I told you, it is not something you should concern yourself with. This plan predates our arrangement, Josh.”
Josh watched as his boss removed Josh’s driver from his bag. He inspected it, examining the lightweight graphite build. “We have been working for a lifetime on this, and it is not something I will abandon before I am finished.”
Josh took a step backward toward the hill, a pained expression on his face. “You’re a terrorist. That’s all this is. You’re a smart, suicidal, ignorant terrorist.”
“You have your names for what I do, and I have mine. I am working on something far bigger than anything you can imagine,” Valère said. “Something much more significant.”
“You won’t get away with it,” Josh said. “You won’t be able to run from it when you’re done.”
Josh’s eyes widened as he noticed Francis raising the golf club into the air.
“I am not planning on running, Josh. I am here, and I will stay right here. And if I am removed, there will be another to take my place. And another.”
Valère turned his head slightly sideways, examining his employee and business partner as if intrigued. “It is truly a shame, Joshua.”
“What?”
Valère lashed out with the club and struck Josh in the head. There was a sickening smack, and Josh immediately fell to the ground. The pain was excruciating, but Josh’s brain felt like mush. He couldn’t think straight; he couldn’t speak.
“It is a truly a shame to lose a mind such as yours, my friend. But you are wrong. I will get away with it. America is not united enough to save itself.”
He lifted the club again. Josh tried to close his eyes, to raise his arm, to do something — but couldn’t.
He could only stare as his boss bought the driver down onto his head.
Chapter Eight
Ben and Julie sat tucked away in a back corner of the staff cafeteria that was connected to the main facilities building. He examined the peeling coat of paint on the cafeteria walls that had gone unnoticed for years. The faint smell of fryers and old food mixed with the subtle aroma of cleaning supplies. As unpleasant the overall feel of the place may have been for a newcomer, Ben felt oddly at ease in this room. He’d spent countless meals here, mostly listening to the conversations of his coworkers and supervisors as they engaged in workplace chatter.
It was the first time in perhaps ten years that he’d felt nostalgic.
Down the hall and around a corner was the same lounge area that Ben had found himself in an hour after the incident. While the majority of the police and SWAT team had gone back to their offices, a few government employees, park officials, and some stragglers were milling about the room, swapping stories.
The news broke to the local and regional stations while Ben and Julie were outside, and the national media was no doubt on its way to pick up the fragments of what was known and embellish or make up the rest.
Ben sipped a cup of black coffee, almost too hot to drink, as he waited for Julie to ask her next question.
“Did you know Rivera well?”
“Not really. If you haven’t guessed, I’m somewhat of an introvert, and I don’t make friends too quickly out here.”
“Right. And this job of yours. You and Rivera were supposed to deliver a bear somewhere?”
Ben smiled. “Well, relocate is the right word. A grizzly, actually. One we’ve run into before. Mo is his name.”
“His name?”
“Yeah, we give names to some of the frequent offenders. Mo’s got three strikes now, but we got him moved up there pretty far. Hopefully he was okay after the, uh, incident.”
Julie scrawled some notes in a miniature notepad she’d taken from her back pocket. Ben sipped his coffee, waiting for her to finish. He listened to the gentle commotion emanating from the front lounge, bits of conversation floating in from rangers and park staff.
“…Was probably nuclear, right?”
“No way, too small — I mean, could have been a test or something gone wrong…”
“…Government’s probably gonna try to cover this one up and sweep it under…”
Julie looked up and caught Ben’s eye. “This wasn’t an accident, but it certainly wasn’t a government test or anything. They’re going to be all over this place within the hour. By tonight, Yellowstone will be crawling with FBI, CIA, DoD, every acronym you can think of.”
Ben cringed.
“By the way — you have any questions for me? I feel like I’ve been asking you everything all morning.”
“You have, but that’s your job.” Ben smiled. “What’s BTR?”
“BTR is the Biological Threat Research wing of the CDC. Not exactly top-secret, but it’s a new program the CDC’s trying to get funding for. We’re keeping it quiet until we have some victories under our belt.”
“Like trying to figure out who bombed Yellowstone Park?”
She laughed. “Well, more like trying to analyze the long-term negative environmental effects of possible radiation in the fallout zone.”
“Hmm, not exactly tabloid-worthy.”
“No, it’s pretty unexciting stuff, and that’s why it’s just an idea at this point. But if I — we — can write up something the brass likes, they might just make it a formal department.”
Ben nodded. “And your office is in Billings. Seems like a pretty small city for a CDC office.”
“It is, and that was part of the attraction. It’s a skeleton crew right now, just me and my team. I run a group of five others, including two part-time assistants. Then there’s my boss —”