Special Forces Rendezvous

chapter 10



Science had never been Sebastian’s favorite subject in school. Actually, anything academic hadn’t been his style—he much preferred being active, which was probably why he’d finished with an A in phys ed and a D in biology. Now, as he listened to Frank Matheson spit out the most technical-sounding explanation on the planet, he had to hold up his hand to interrupt the man.

“English, Doc,” he pleaded. “I have no idea what you’re saying.”

Matheson ran his fingers over his bushy gray beard, still looking frazzled. “I’m sorry. I often forget to speak in layman’s terms.” He gestured at the microscope to his left. “As I was saying, the culture showed results in an alarmingly short amount of time. Within twenty-four hours, the host cell displayed signs of the virus, and it was replicating at a disturbing rate. Healthy cells began to degenerate within hours of viral detection.”

Sebastian’s gaze strayed to the cages on the other table. From his vantage point, it was clear that the mice inside those cages weren’t moving. Unease swam in his gut, growing stronger when Frank noticed where his attention had drifted.

“Dead,” the microbiologist confirmed. “They’re all dead.”

“You tested the virus on the mice?” Next to him, Julia’s face was pale, but her expression was sharp and inquisitive. She stepped closer and peered inside one of the cages, furrowing her eyebrows.

“That’s why I took an extra day,” Matheson replied. “The accelerated reproduction cycle of this virus is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. I wanted to see how it reacted to a living organism.”

Sebastian met the other man’s eyes. “And?”

“And it’s deadly. Like I said before, after twenty-four hours of infection the subject begins to exhibit symptoms. From what I was able to gather, this virus targets the central nervous system, but its manifestation was slightly odd. After about an hour or so, the test subjects exhibited some bleeding of the eyes, nose and ears, along with a high temperature and sluggish behavior. Two hours after that, the seizures began, and several of the mice showed signs of paralysis. By the four-hour mark, they were all dead.”

A sickening feeling churned in his stomach. “Would human beings be affected in the same way as the mice?”

“Most likely, yes.”

Looking extremely troubled, Julia sat on a nearby stool and started playing with the bottom of her braid, a habit Sebastian had come to associate with both distress and deep contemplation. “It sounds a bit like polio,” she remarked.

Matheson nodded. “That was my thought as well. The poliovirus is quite similar. It also attacks the nervous system, infecting the brain, spine and surrounding tissues. In rare cases, polio can cause encephalitis, which is what I believe the test subjects ultimately died of.”

Julia’s head lifted sharply. “You autopsied the mice?”

“Only two of them, and I found evidence of infected brain tissue.” The man rubbed his beard again. “This virus is similar enough to polio that I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s simply a mutated strain of it. But its incubation period is shorter, the replication rate is faster, and I don’t believe there’s any possibility for survival. I hypothesize that whoever becomes infected with this virus will die approximately twenty-eight hours after ingestion, barring the administration of an antidote.” He cocked his head. “Is there an antidote?”

Sebastian’s mouth tensed. “We have no idea. And you’re certain this thing was manufactured?”

Matheson nodded fervently. “You won’t find this disease in nature. It was engineered in a lab, and I must emphasize again—if a water supply becomes contaminated, the outcome will not be desirable. This virus is incredibly fast-acting. It can wipe out an entire population in a day.”

And it had been designed for that very purpose, Sebastian thought grimly. The development of biological agents was nothing new—he wouldn’t be surprised if every nation in the world dabbled in bio warfare, experimenting with potential weapons and coming up with defenses against them. Yet this current administration had spoken publicly and repeatedly about the president’s stance on biological warfare. Defense, not development. President Howard had always been firm on that.

Question was, was someone going behind the president’s back to develop this new weapon, or was the man in charge aware of the project?

“So what do we do now?” Julia asked.

It took him a moment to realize she was talking to him, but with those big, hazel eyes focused on him, he couldn’t even remember what she’d asked. Her mere proximity was a huge distraction, and for the past forty-eight hours, he hadn’t been able to get enough of Julia Davenport. The woman continued to surprise him, not just with the sensuality and enthusiasm she displayed between the sheets, but with her strength, her intelligence, her ability to accept this messed-up situation and seek out solutions rather than whine.

He knew she hadn’t enjoyed being cooped up in the hotel room for two days—even though he’d tried his damnedest to distract her—but the woman hadn’t complained once, which only made him like her even more.

But he didn’t like a damn thing about this latest development. He’d known this virus couldn’t be good, but he hadn’t expected it to be this bad. For the life of him, he had no freaking idea what their next move should be.

Letting out a breath, Sebastian finally offered a helpless shrug. “I guess now we check in with Tate and hope that Eva found some new information about Project Aries.”

“That’s it?” Julia didn’t sound at all satisfied. “And if she struck out again, then what? We sit around and wait?”

“I don’t see what other choice we have.”

“You can contact the CDC,” Matheson suggested. “In fact, I highly recommend you do. They need to be made aware of this virus.” He glanced at Julia. “This is a deadly biological agent, Jules. We can’t just store the sample in my lab. It needs to be locked up in a government facility.”

Her teeth dug into her lower lip and then she made a frustrated noise. “We have no idea who in the government we can even trust. We could be handing the sample over to the very person who authorized the creation of it.”

“And then you’d be announcing your location to the people who most likely want you dead,” Sebastian added, resting a protective hand on her shoulder.

“So would you,” she replied. “They want me dead for knowing the truth about Esperanza. They want you dead for knowing the truth about Corazón. I’m scared that if we contact the CDC or Pentagon or whichever defense agency, they’ll just detain us the way they detained me at the village, and...”

He finished the words she couldn’t seem to get out.

“And this time we won’t come out of it alive.”

* * *

“I need coffee.” With a weary exhalation, Julia buckled her seat belt and glanced over at Sebastian, whose discontented demeanor most certainly matched her own.

She hadn’t gleaned an ounce of comfort from Frank’s findings. This virus was even more dangerous than she could’ve ever dreamed. Cell degeneration within twenty-four hours of infection? Death after twenty-eight hours? It was downright petrifying, especially if human subjects were to be affected in the same way as the mice, which Frank believed was more than likely.

“Should we hit that coffee shop on the other side of campus?” Sebastian suggested in response to her declaration.

“Please,” she said gratefully.

A few minutes later, he parked in front of the bustling café, illegally and without apology.

“I’ll risk the ticket as long as I get a caffeine fix,” he explained when he saw Julia’s amused look. “And food. I could definitely go for some food.”

They strode into the café, and Julia inhaled the intoxicating aroma of ground coffee beans, baked goods and fresh fruit. The loud whirring of a blender cut through the chatter in the room as the barista prepared a fruit smoothie for a waiting customer.

“What can I get you?” the harried-looking young woman asked as she slapped a lid on the smoothie and handed it to the shaggy-haired student at the counter.

They ordered two turkey clubs, a tray of banana muffins and two large coffees, then drifted to the end of the counter so Julia could dump a couple of sugars and a splash of milk into her tall foam cup.

As they waited for their food, she absentmindedly glanced at the television mounted on the wall in front of her. It was turned on to CNN, and a news report on the rising global oil prices blared out of the speakers. Indifferent, she was about to turn away when a very familiar image suddenly appeared on the screen.

“Sebastian,” she hissed, but she didn’t need to alert him—his gaze was focused on the same thing.

A photograph of the Doctors International clinic in Valero filled the screen, before it split off to show a reporter standing live in front of the burned ruins of the building.

“...believed to be the actions of a South American revolutionary group,” the woman was reporting. “The United Liberty Fighters have been responsible for countless fires, robberies and terrorist attacks over the past decade. Recently, the group lost its leader in a military ambush that devastated one of the ULF’s base camps. A new leader has since taken the helm, Javier Luego, who has denied the ULF’s involvement in this latest attack.”

Julia clenched her teeth. Of course Luego denied it—he wasn’t responsible for the fire and murders of her coworkers. Sebastian had been right, though. The military was blaming everything on the rebels.

“...among the victims, two American doctors. Dr. Marcus Freeman—” a photo of the African-American surgeon flashed on the screen “—and Dr. Julia Davenport.”

She sucked in a breath as her own face gazed back at her.

“Freeman and Davenport were identified using dental records, due to the state of the remains—”

“Your sandwiches are ready!” the guy at the counter called.

Before she could blink, Sebastian had grabbed the bag containing their food and was practically dragging her to the door. “Get in the car,” he said briskly.

Julia slid into the passenger seat without question, gripping her coffee cup with both hands because she desperately needed something to hold on to. Shock continued to course through her veins, making it difficult to formulate any coherent thoughts.

“They’re saying they found my remains,” she blurted out, shaking her head in astonishment. “They’re saying I’m dead.”

Sebastian’s profile revealed his calm, unfazed features. “It’s to their advantage, Doc. That way, when they track you down and kill you, they won’t need to conjure up some BS story because everyone already thinks you died in a fire.”

She swallowed her rising anger. “This is insane. How can these people just—” A thought struck her. “My mother! Oh, God, they probably contacted my mother and told her about the fire. I have to call her and—”

“You can’t,” he interrupted. “That’s what they’re hoping you’ll do. Mark my words, Julia, your mother is being watched. Her phones are tapped, her internet and financial activities are being monitored. They’re waiting for you to make contact.”

“Do you think they know I’m in the States?”

“I’m thinking no, but we can’t rule anything out. That’s why we need to lay low. Now that your picture is all over the news, you can’t risk being out in the open.” His strong jaw went rigid. “Christ. We really need to figure out our next move, Doc.”

She wholeheartedly agreed, but each time she tried to think of what the next logical step ought to be, her mind drew a blank. They couldn’t involve anyone in the government, not until they determined who could be trusted. They couldn’t involve the military for the same reason.

“What about the media?” she suggested. “We can tell them everything, and if the people after us try to make us look like a bunch of nut jobs, we give every last member of the press a sample of the virus.”

“That’s a possibility, except I don’t know how I feel about letting this water sample out of our hands. If the wrong person gets a hold of it...”

“You’re right.” She pursed her lips. “But I still say we blow this conspiracy right open. If we make enough noise, our pursuers will have a hell of a time trying to shut us up. And if we wind up dead, they’ll only be proving us right.”

“If we raise a fuss about this, they won’t kill us,” Sebastian agreed. He laughed dryly. “But they’ll lock us up, either in prison or at some sanitarium, claiming we’re criminals or psychotic. And remember, these people have the clout to do that.”

Strands of frustration tangled in her insides, congealing into hard knots that made her stomach hurt. By the time they got back to the hotel and strode into their room, her appetite was nonexistent and the smell of food wafting from their takeout bag made her nauseous.

She joined Sebastian at the small table under the window and flopped down on one of the cushioned chairs, but when he handed her the turkey sandwich, she simply shook her head. “I can’t eat right now.” When he frowned, she had to smile. “I’ll eat it later, I promise.”

Sebastian, on the other hand, seemed to have no problems with his appetite. He polished off his sandwich in a matter of minutes, then devoured three muffins before calling it quits and reaching for his coffee. She tracked the movements of his strong, callused hands as he wiped the corner of his mouth with a napkin, as he brought his cup to his sensual lips, as his corded throat worked to swallow his coffee.

He was so unbelievably attractive. So masculine. So magnetic. Everything about this man intrigued her—his messy dark blond hair, his seductive gray eyes, his perpetual five o’clock. She could look at that sexy, rugged face for hours.

Catching her staring, Sebastian’s lips quirked in a grin. “Everything all right?”

“Just thinking about how sexy you are,” she admitted, feeling her cheeks go hot. “And I’m also wondering why nothing seems to faze you.”

“I’m very easygoing,” he said with a shrug.

Something about his tone brought a tug of suspicion. “Are you? Are you really easygoing, Sebastian, or...or are you just really good at pretending nothing bothers you?”

For one brief second he looked startled, but then he offered another shrug accompanied by a careless chuckle. “I’m not that good of an actor, Doc.”

Yes, you are.

For the first time since they’d met, Julia glimpsed a chink in his laidback armor. It was a facade. A pretense. Sebastian Stone was hiding a whole lot of pain inside that big, powerful body of his.

“Why did you enlist in the army?” she heard herself ask.

He looked surprised by the swift change of subject. “For the same reason you became a doctor—to follow in my dad’s footsteps and make him proud.”

“That’s not the only reason I went into medicine. I also wanted to save lives, to make a difference.”

“So did I.” A faraway note entered his deep voice. “And I wanted to be a hero. Just once, I wanted to feel like I had something worthwhile to offer people.”

An internal alarm dinged in her head. “What made you think you didn’t?”

His expression instantly grew shuttered. “I just never felt very heroic growing up. My dad, he died a hero. Died serving his country. He was a hero in the military community, well-liked, respected. You should have seen the people who showed up for his funeral—he had friends in high places, that’s for sure.”

“Aside from being a hero, what was he like?”

“Strict. Cold at times. Demanded excellence. No tolerance for error. If you didn’t do something right the first time, he got pissed, which was ironic because one of his favorite phrases was ‘practice makes perfect’ yet requiring practice implies that you won’t knock a task out of the park the very first try. So then why get mad when he takes me shooting for the first time and I can’t hit the damn target right away?” Sebastian shook his head, mystified. “The man was hard to understand sometimes.”

“Parents usually are.” Julia sighed. “I still don’t get my mother, and I’ve had thirty years to try and figure her out.”

Much to her disappointment, the conversation came to an end when Sebastian’s phone rang. That he put the call on speakerphone spoke volumes about his trust in her, and warmth suffused Julia’s body.

“What’s up, Tate?” Sebastian asked without delay.

“Are you near a TV?”

“Yeah, and I think I know what you’re going to say. We already saw it on CNN. They’re blaming the fire on the rebels, just like we—”

“This isn’t about the fire,” Tate interrupted. “Turn on the television. Any frickin’ channel. Call me back after.”

Julia and Sebastian exchanged baffled looks. An eddy of uneasiness swirled in her belly as Sebastian grabbed the remote and pointed it at the TV. The screen came to life a moment later, and like Tate had said, it didn’t matter which channel they chose—seemed like every regularly scheduled program had been preempted for this late-breaking live coverage.

The aerial shot showed unfamiliar streets littered with dozens of ambulances, police cruisers and fire trucks, but it wasn’t until Julia glimpsed a van bearing the logo of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention that she truly understood what had happened. People in full hazmat suits swarmed the area, while the journalist reporting from a helicopter hypothesized about what was occurring down below.

At the bottom of the screen, a stream of text moved in a horizontal scroll. With wide eyes, Julia read the words as they flashed by, unable to believe what she was reading.

More than seven hundred dead. Outbreak in Dixie, New York. Small town’s entire population discovered dead mere hours ago.

Gaping, she turned to Sebastian. “Oh, my God. Are you seeing this?”

He looked as nauseous as she felt. “I’m seeing it.” Then he changed the channel, seeking out more details.

Dixie was a tiny town in upstate New York with a population of eleven hundred citizens. Seven hundred or so of those citizens were now dead—some had been discovered in their homes, some had suffered seizures and collapses outside or in public, some had managed to get to a hospital before succumbing to their illness. The whole town had been quarantined, and it seemed like every agency known to man had sent agents to Dixie.

“At the moment, we have no idea whether this disease is contagious or if it is airborne,” a male reporter said urgently. “As you can see, protective gear is being utilized, which indicates that whatever killed the citizens of Dixie can potentially spread through the air.” The Asian man suddenly touched his earpiece. “Wait a minute, folks, we’re receiving an update. Thirty-eight more deaths have been reported. And at current count, there are one hundred and sixty-four people presently unaffected by the illness.”

The shot cut back to the studio, where a pair of concerned-looking anchors sat behind a bright blue desk. “Bill, can you tell us anything more about this disease?”

“We don’t know much else, Marie. Attempts have been made to contact the CDC, as well as the World Health Organization, but they haven’t released any more details.”

Julia’s entire body felt numb. Cold. Winded. More than seven hundred people dead. Just like those lab mice.

“We have to turn ourselves in,” she blurted out.

Sebastian’s head jerked over in shock. “What are you talking about, Doc?”

“They don’t know anything about this virus, Sebastian. But we do. We know exactly what it does, exactly how it’s transmitted. We have to contact the CDC, just like Frank said.”

Indecision flickered in his gray eyes. “We need to think about this. We can’t just—”

The blond news anchor on the screen interrupted Sebastian. “There has been a new development!” she announced. “A terrorist group has just taken responsibility for the death toll in Dixie, New York! This is a terrorist attack! I repeat, the unprecedented events we have been reporting on for the last hour is a result of a terrorist attack.”