While Justice Sleeps(107)
Ling asked, “What happened?”
“Apparently, while stationed in Afghanistan, he met a group of scientists working on a special project for a company in India. They’d posited that biogenetic weapons could be developed to target religious groups based on common ancestry. Vance brought it to his superiors; and six weeks later, he was stateside with a military pension and an honorable discharge.”
“Is that how he ended up in the Secret Service?” asked Avery.
“Seems so. The Service assigned him to the detail of an old friend—a young U.S. senator running on the ticket as vice president, who previously served a tour with him in the Gulf.”
“Stokes and Vance. Like minds.”
“Exactly. He links up with then-senator Stokes and, once they take the White House, Vance gets assigned to the Science and Technology Directorate at DHS, which has the authority to disburse funds to foreign entities for research, including chromosomal projects. Then President Cadres dies, and Stokes becomes president.”
“President Stokes. Major Vance. The full weight of Homeland Security and the White House,” Avery muttered. “All I’ve got are some documents written by a missing employee who may have stolen government materials, which were likely emailed to me by the man who stands to benefit if his company joins forces with Hygeia’s successor. Authenticated by a renegade scientist who has vanished again.”
Ling looked at her best friend. “That’s some desk job you have, Avery. What do you want to do?”
“We wait. If we don’t, under the best-case scenario, you three find yourselves living under armed guard for a few months until there’s a trial, while I’m held in custody in a federal detention center. It won’t matter that you don’t know where the information came from or what happened. You’ll be material witnesses.
“After weeks and weeks, they might strike you from a witness list, but President Stokes and his lawyers and DHS will have your names. They’ll know you spoke with the FBI and with DOJ. Which means your lives as you live them are over. No more medicine for Ling. No more security firm for Jared. No more corporate law firm for Noah. You’ll find yourselves mysteriously blackballed, assuming you don’t spend three to five years of your lives unraveling mistakes on your licenses and fending off lawsuits. Or worse.
“And Jared.” She leaned in, facing him closely. “They’ll kill your father. Just like they killed Jamie Lewis.”
“I don’t understand why we can’t trust Agent Lee,” Noah offered quietly. “We’re out of our league here. He seems to be on our side.”
“I like him, Noah. I do. But anyone who works for the federal government has to be suspect. We just saw Major Vance blithely check on the murder of hundreds of Muslims, and he has access to everything I say or do. I’m not just worried about Agent Lee for our sakes; I’m afraid for him.”
Jared nodded in agreement. “Noah, I know why you suggested giving this evidence to Agent Lee, but I agree it’s a mistake. He’s an FBI agent, not a miracle worker. Nothing this big can be kept hidden by the FBI. They might be able to offer witness protection, but there’s nowhere we can hide that DHS can’t find us.”
Jared turned to Avery. “You’re in an impossible spot—but you’ll figure out what to do. My father trusted you for a reason. Look at how much you’ve figured out already.”
“Look at how many people have died.” She dipped her head, her voice low. “Okay, we keep gathering evidence. And we’re not telling the FBI or anyone else. Not yet. Agreed.”
Ling nodded, as did Noah.
“Let’s get back to work.”
* * *
—
The team spent the next hour focused on their assignments. Jared had outfitted each of them with laptops that encrypted their data and searches, and he’d established an autonomous VPN to keep their activities hidden from anyone hunting for digital fingerprints.
Avery finally closed her computer. “I’ve got to clear my head, and I need to visit Justice Wynn at the hospital. Maybe while I’m there, I’ll figure out what his letter is trying to tell me.” She’d just stood up, ready to ask the protective agent outside to arrange for a ride, when her phone rang. Avery wanted to ignore the summons and didn’t recognize the number, but she answered out of caution.
A man’s scratchy voice said, “I want to talk to Avery Keene.”
“This is she.” Unable to place him, she asked, “Who is this?”
“I’m the person who has your mother. Say hello, Rita.”
“Baby? Oh, God, I’m sorry. So sorry.” Her voice was small.
A strangled cry reached Avery’s ears. “Momma?”
“Don’t do it, Avery,” Rita cried. “Whatever they want—”
The crack of a hand against flesh carried as clearly as a voice. “That’s not what I told you to say, Rita.”
“What do you want?” Avery demanded as her hand clenched the phone. Ling steadied her while Noah rushed to the door to get Agent Leighton.
Jared stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Wait.”
“You have a simple choice, Ms. Keene. By tomorrow at five p.m., either Howard Wynn dies or your mother does.”