Absolute Damage, page 11
“Don’t say that!”
“Jess. This is the job. You can do it. You know you can. You want to show me how much you care? Stop this asshole. Not just St. Clair either. Bard, Drew, Trident, all of them. Get them for me, and when you get them, tell them they better hope they go somewhere I don’t when you send them to the afterlife.”
She sobbed again, but when she spoke, her voice was under control. “All right. I’ll get these assholes for you.”
“Good girl.”
He couldn’t stop the coughing fit anymore and sank to a sitting position until it passed. “All right,” he said when he could speak again. “I’m still alive, so help me do what I can. The virus stockpile has to be nearby. The targets have all been within the Boulevard Peripherique. I’ll bet anything the virus is there too.”
“I agree,” Topaz said. “The first attack was on a metro. We’ve been operating as though it was on the station near Gagny, but it wasn’t. It was on a particular subway car that stopped at Gagny.”
“Yes!” Jake said. “Jess, see if you can track that car’s movements. Call the Metro and get the train’s schedule. It was infected before Gagny, and I’ll bet anything it was infected within the Periphery. It was the first attack, and St. Clair probably didn’t send his mule far with the virus. We find the origin of that train, and we’ll be that much closer to finding the virus.”
“All right,” Jess said. She seemed a little more in control of her emotions now that she had something to do. “I’ll keep you posted.”
Jake nodded, unable to speak. He was out of breath, and he didn’t know if it was because of his fight with the terrorist or because of the viral infection.
He looked out at the Seine below him. The Seine was notorious for poor water quality, being unable to handle the large quantities of urban pollution fed to it by the numerous large cities it passed through. It’s muddy green waters underneath a bright and clear blue sky seemed to Jake a metaphor for the sickness that was now spreading through his body.
He coughed again, only once this time, and rose to his feet. He made his way to the road and walked around the Boulevard, waiting for Jess's information. He would find St. Clair's lab, and at the very least, he would share its location with the Secret Service. If he could, he would try to destroy the lab and the stockpile of the virus. It would only stop Trident momentarily, but it would buy them precious time to find him and stop him for good.
Images poked at the back of his mind, memories of his past, but he pushed them aside. He couldn’t afford distractions now. He couldn’t afford despair. He had known when he applied for the Secret Service that his duties might cause him to die. He hadn’t expected it to happen this way, but it was the nature of the job that agents sometimes had to sacrifice themselves.
He thought of Sheila again and wondered if he should try to say goodbye. He loved her, or if he didn’t, he was falling fast. She deserved a chance to hear from his own mouth why he had made the choice that would forever take him from her. She deserved a chance to say goodbye.
But what she needed was to get home safe. She needed to be alive. She needed for her father to be alive; for her mother to be alive. She might never understand why he had to leave her this way, but she would be alive.
So, he said his own private goodbye to Sheila, fighting the lump that formed in his throat and allowing the coughing fit that followed to drown the tears that formed in his eyes.
“Jake?”
“Yes, Jess. I’m here.”
“I found the car’s origin.”
“Wonderful. Where?”
“The Ecole-Militaire station. It’s at the southeastern corner of the Champs de Mars, about a mile and a half from where you are.”
“All right. I’m headed there now.”
“How are you feeling?”
“I’m okay for now,” he said.
“Jake, please—”
"I can't, Jess. You know I can't. I have to do this."
Jess was silent for a moment. Then she said, "I know." She took a deep, shaky breath, then said, "I'll keep an eye on you using Topaz's drones for as long as you can, but when you go underground, I won't be able to see you, so you need to talk to me, okay?"
“I will. Thank you.”
He fumbled in his pocket for the mask he had been given by medical personnel at Notre Dame and fitted it over his face. Most other people wore a mask, so at least he didn’t seem out of place.
He made his way toward the station, moving efficiently but unhurriedly. The coughing wasn’t so bad at the moment, but his eyes burned until they watered, and he couldn’t quite seem to catch his breath. He avoided contact with the few people who remained outside in spite of the citywide panic and continued to hope that the virus’s low transmissibility would prevent the catastrophe he feared.
Either way, it would end for him today.
He reached the station after twenty minutes of walking and headed inside. “Okay, I’m on the platform. The virus is obviously not stored anywhere within easy reach. We need to find where St. Clair might be keeping it.”
“I’m looking at a map of the station now. I’m not really sure where he would keep it. The station is very high traffic, and even the maintenance areas are frequently used. The only thing I could think of would be the sewer lines running underneath, but I don’t know how he could store viruses there.”
“If he has the stockpile in a waterproof container of some sort, he could store the viruses there. If the container is refrigerated, he could store them there indefinitely. Give me directions to the sewer. I’m going to look.”
“There’s a hatch a quarter mile down the train in a recessed alcove in the wall. The next train arrives in five minutes, so you’ll have to be quick, but if you are, then you can reach it before the train comes. The trick will be getting down there without anyone seeing you.”
“Already there,” Jake said, hopping down the platform onto the tracks. The few passengers on the platform didn’t notice as he slipped into darkness.
“Jake…” Jess began.
“What is it?”
Jess was silent for a long time. When she spoke again, he could hear that she was working hard to control her emotions. "It's been an honor working with you."
He felt a lump form in his throat again and pushed it down. "We're still working, Jess. One more job. Let's end this partnership with a bang."
She laughed, and it hit Jake hard that this was probably the last time he would ever hear it. “You got it, Jake.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
He reached the alcove just before the subway rounded a bend. The light from the train's headlight illuminated the nautical-style hatch that would lead into the sewer. That reminded Jake to use his own flashlight. He fumbled for it, but a wave of weakness washed over him, and it slipped out of his fingers, rolling to the edge of the alcove and stopping just before it fell over onto the tracks. He stooped down to pick it up, and when he stood, dizziness nearly overwhelmed him. He leaned against the wall of the alcove and waited until his vision cleared and his breathing steadied.
“Jake? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” he told Jess. “Just got dizzy for a moment.”
Jess didn’t reply, but Jake could imagine her lips pressed together, her shoulders bunched tightly as she fought to stay in control and focus on the mission.
He switched his flashlight on. The beam shook, and he looked at his hands and noticed that he was shaking too. He fought through the trembling and finally managed to turn the wheel and open the hatch. A blast of fetid air sent another wave of dizziness through him, and he waited another moment for his vision to steady before he walked into the sewer.
Thankfully, the tunnel had a walkway that allowed him to navigate through the pipe without stepping into the foul-smelling sewage. "Left or right, Jess?"
“Um… right leads to smaller pipes, left leads to a basin in a mile or so. Go left.”
“Left it is.”
He walked through the tunnel, gripping his flashlight in both hands to keep it from slipping from his fingers. His heart beat rapidly in his chest, and every so often, another wave of dizziness would pass through him. The coughing, on the other hand, seemed to have stopped, at least for now. The disease’s symptoms seemed to change as it progressed.
He moved through the pipe, swinging his light right and left as he looked for signs of the virus. “How often are these pipes serviced?” he asked.
“I’m not sure,” Jess replied. “Not often, I would guess. It doesn’t seem like a fun place to work.”
“Well, I’m sure the workers get paid well enough to make this worth their while.”
“I can’t imagine anything worth that while.”
Jake chuckled, and the laugh ended in a coughing fit. Apparently, that symptom hadn't faded after all.
“Oh, Jake,” Jess whispered, and the heartache in her voice nearly brought him to tears.
“I’ll be all right,” Jake said, “long enough to do what I need to do.”
Jess didn’t reply, but she could hear her take several calming breaths. He felt an odd pang of jealousy as his own breaths came in shallow gasps. How strange that someone could spend their entire lives never thinking about something as simple as breathing, but when it was taken from them, it became clear just how valuable and precious that act was.
He almost laughed but stifled it. It would only lead to more coughing, and he didn’t want to have to tell Jess why he was laughing. To keep his mind off of his impending death, he asked, “Do you have any reports on the situation up top?”
“So far, the virus seems limited to the Louvre area. The terrorist you fought with died shortly after you left. I’m hoping that means that most of the disease entered him, and there’s little risk of the city collapsing.”
“Fingers crossed. What about the President?”
Jess hesitated a moment before saying, “He’s putting up a fuss about leaving.”
Jake sighed. “Well, he needs to leave. We can’t put our hopes for his survival on our crossed fingers. He can reconvene the summit after St. Clair and Trident are stopped.”
“He’s not worried about the summit. He just doesn’t want to leave you behind.”
Jake’s eyes widened in surprise. “Really?”
“Really. He told you that?”
“I overheard him yelling at Art. He said something along the lines of ‘Screw the disease, we’re not leaving Jake here. Find his ass and get him back.’”
Jake smiled. He wasn’t sure where he stood with Bryan after dating his daughter against his will. It was nice to know the man still considered him a friend. “Well, you do me a favor, Jess. Tell the President that I told him to get his ass on Air Force One ASAP, or I’ll haunt him for the rest of his life.”
Jess giggled and said, “I’ll tell him.”
“Good. Tell him also that I was proud to have known him. While you’re at it, go look in the mirror and tell yourself that.”
“Stop. You’re going to make me cry. I don’t want that to be the last memory you have of me.”
“The last memory I’m going to have of you is the time you snorted tequila out of your nose at the agency Christmas party last year.”
“Eww! No!”
Jake laughed and said, “Too late. I can see it now. You drink a full shot of tequila just as I deliver the punchline to the joke about the Secret Service Agent, the CIA operative and the Police Detective.”
“Stop!”
“That brief moment of realization when you realize what you’re about to do. The way your lips purse together just before it happens—”
“Jake, stop!”
“Then it happens. The sharp aroma of tequila and snot pervades the room—”
“Stop!” She started to giggle. “You’re an asshole, Jake.”
“The dirtiest and the smelliest.”
“Eww! Dammit, now that’s going to be my last memory of you!”
Her laughter stopped when she said that, and Jake could hear the muffled sound of her sobs. "Tell you what," he said. "Let's stop, St. Clair, and then your last memory of me can be saving the world from a mad scientist together."
She chuckled through her tears and said, “Deal.”
“Good. Now…”
His voice trailed off as another wave of dizziness washed over him. He fell against the handrail of the walkway and for a terrifying moment nearly fell into the sewage beneath. He pushed himself back, so he sank to his knees in front of the rail instead. He gripped his flashlight tightly and only barely managed to avoid dropping it.
“Jake? Jake!”
“I’m all right,” he wheezed. “Just… out of breath.”
Spots swam in his vision, and his feet slid further behind him. Dammit, no! Not now!
He gripped the rail and threw the arm holding the flashlight over it. With an effort, he pulled himself to his feet, fighting through the coughing fit and the hot tears running from his eyes and getting back to standing. His legs shook, but he forced himself forward one step at a time.
Slowly, the wave receded, but when it passed, the shaking was worse. His heart beat quickly, but the beats were weak, and a wave of exhaustion followed. He forced his head up and forced himself to breathe slowly. His heartbeat slowly calmed, and his vision cleared enough that he could see he was approaching the end of the walkway.
The sewage drained downward into a basin about fifty by eighty feet. The smell was debilitating, but Jake’s ability to perceive it was diminishing thanks to the progress of the disease. Every cloud had a silver lining, he supposed.
“Okay, Jess, I’ve reached the drainage basin. There’s a door to my left.”
“Go through it. That leads to the sewer’s emergency control room. See if there’s anything in there that might be suspicious.”
Jake nodded, then remembered that Jess couldn’t see him. “All right.”
He rested against the door a moment, gathering his strength. He twisted with all his might, but all his might had faded to a shadow of its former self, and the wheel only moved a fraction before sticking shut. This sewer really was rarely visited.
He took a breath and twisted again, but again, the wheel only turned a fraction of a degree. He needed more force somehow.
He turned and braced his back against the door frame, then brought his left leg up and pressed it against one of the handles of the wheel. He took a deep breath and pushed. The sharp steel frame of the door bit into his shoulder blade, but bruises meant little to him now. He gritted his teeth against the pain and kept pushing.
The wheel released, spinning so fast that Jake lost his balance and fell. The back of his head hit the door frame, and he cried out and pressed his hands to his crown. Nausea and dizziness fought for control, and he forced his breaths out in grunts to keep from passing out.
“Jake!” Jess cried. “Jake, what’s wrong?”
“Hit my head,” he growled. “Door’s open, though.”
He got to his feet, ignoring the trembling that now made even walking difficult. He walked inside the room and realized he’d lost his flashlight. The only light came from a single dim yellow emergency bulb in a grated enclosure in the ceiling.
It was light enough.
The room looked like something out of a dieselpunk video game. Knobs, switches and dials were clustered seemingly haphazardly on large panels. A few ancient CRT screens were present on some of the panels, though none of them were active right now.
What really interested Jake, however, was the large box in the center of the room. It was four feet long by three feet wide by three feet high. It looked like the kind of boxes hospitals used to transport sensitive medicines or samples.
Jake had found the virus.
He touched the box and found it cold. “I found it,” he told Jess. “It’s in a refrigerated box. It must have its own power supply because it’s not plugged into anything.”
“Look around for a control panel,” Jess said. “Maybe we can end this by just increasing the temperature.”
“I don’t know,” Jake said. “We might just end up activating the nanobots that way. I can’t imagine they’re that temperature sensitive, or they wouldn’t be useful.”
"They're at least a little temperature sensitive, or St. Clair wouldn't bother refrigerating them. It's the best shot we have, and… well, we don't get another shot."
Her words were punctuated by another coughing fit from Jake. She was right. He was fading fast. He looked around the box but found nothing.
On the box, that was. Behind the box was a small table, and on the table was a stack of papers. Jake picked up the stack and thumbed through it. His eyes widened. “Oh God.”
“Jake? What is it?”
“It’s everything. It’s St. Clair’s plans. Most of it is a manifesto.” He skimmed through it and said, “Jesus, this guy is insane.”
“Well, we knew that, but what specifically is prompting that sentiment now?”
"We were right about him manipulating Trident," Jake said. "He used Trident to obtain the virus, but now that he has it, he's holding it over their heads, making them work for him. He’s holding the carrot out of killing the President, but that’s a small part of his plan. He wants everyone, Jess. The world.”
“Bingo.”
Jake spun towards the sound of a disturbingly familiar voice and found an even more disturbingly familiar face.
“Hans?”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Hans smiles and replied in perfectly intelligible American English, without a trace of accent, the virus must be affecting you greatly if you haven’t figured it out yet.”
Jake’s eyes first widened, then narrowed. “Vincent St. Clair.”
“One and the same. It’s an honor to finally meet you, Special Agent Jake Mercer.”
“How did you escape CIA custody?”
“I have friends too, Special Agent. The CIA wasn’t expecting that, odd for an Agency that exists for the express purpose of knowing things.”
Jake took a step toward Hans, but a wave of dizziness overcame him. His legs went limp, and he fell to his knees, clutching the table to steady himself.
