‘So then, what would you like to know?’
‘Well, by now I was expecting to see… something. Some action. Since you’re here, would you like to update me on the project’s status?’
‘Why? Don’t you trust me?’ Gant said.
Fielding smiled the tiniest bit. He moved a few papers aside on the table, and came up with a manila folder. He opened it and looked at the one sheet of white unlined paper inside. ‘Tyler Gant. US Army 25th Infantry Division, Vietnam. Two tours of duty, 1969 – 1971. Philadelphia Police Department, 1972 – 2003. You’ve spent most of your life in service to your country and your community. That’s to be commended. You should be proud.’
‘I don’t make a fetish out of it,’ Gant said.
Fielding laughed. ‘They said you were a wiseass. I like that in a man, but only so far.’ His face became serious. ‘You know, I’m only five years older than you.’
‘I know.’
‘Well, how do you do it? How do you stay so young?’
‘Believe me, I’m nothing like I used to be,’ Gant said. “I feel the time passing.’
‘But still,’ Fielding said. ‘It’s remarkable.’
Gant shrugged. ‘I only drink the best whiskey. That helps. And I’ve been blessed with good genes.’ He didn’t mention the two days a week with a personal trainer, the five mile runs, and the yoga nearly every morning. He didn’t mention the fruit and vegetable juicing, and the four days of fasting each month. They probably had all that in a file, in any case. ‘My father turned eighty-nine this year. He just came back from his fall hunting trip. Took down a ten-point buck. Clean shot to the head.’
‘Amazing,’ Fielding said. ‘How’s he getting along in these dark times? Does he find it hard?’
‘He’s a tough old bird. Says he’s seen it worse. He was alive during the Great Depression. That was, of course, worse than now.’
‘I’ll grant that’s probably true,’ Fielding said. He paused, seemingly lost in thought for a moment. ‘Mr Gant, I’m concerned. That’s all I’m saying. You come highly recommended. I’m told you’re among the best at what you do, but I feel like you’ve left me in the dark here.’
‘Do you really want to be in the light? In matter such as these, highly sensitive matters, I operate under the assumption that the less the client knows, the better for the client. I think you should take a moment before you answer. Do you really want to know what’s happening?’
Fielding didn’t hesitate. ‘Yes. I want to know.’
Gant took a deep breath, then nodded. ‘We are very close. There’s a boat anchored off the East Coast of the United States, exactly where doesn’t matter at this moment. A small laboratory has been built aboard the boat. Not state of the art, but quite good under the circumstances. It has everything necessary. A person I trust, and who has experience in these matters, built the lab based on very specific guidelines. Some people I do business with have acquired a quantity of a certain substance, an organism, and they will deliver it to the boat when I give them the go ahead. A scientist is en route to the boat. He was unavoidably detained very recently, so the work is a little behind schedule, but I can tell you that soon he will be in place. Once he is, the work will proceed very quickly. After that, your men can meet us at the boat, and we’ll make the transfer.’
Fielding nodded. ‘You’ll accompany my men back here on the plane, of course. To make sure the operation ends smoothly?’
‘Of course. I’ll probably bring at least one of my men with me as well.’
‘The scientist,’ Fielding said. ‘He’s a good man?’
Gant chose not to answer the question. ‘I’ve worked with him before, and our previous work has been a success. What we accomplished in the past is likely what brought my name to your attention.’
He paused, then looked deeply into Fielding’s eyes. ‘The question now becomes, are you sure you want to go through with this?’
Gant saw the look come into Fielding’s eyes. He had seen it many times before, in many other sets of eyes. It was a hunger, like a vampire thirsty for blood.
‘Mr Gant, this house has been my primary residence for the past thirty years. I’m an American, but this island is my home. I buried my wife here. I raised two children here. I’ve run my businesses from here. Many good friends of mine have been driven away, forced off the island, by the tyranny of the mob. Innocent people have had their homes taken, have been murdered, and far worse.’ Fielding’s thin, weak hand clenched into a fist. ‘ Worse than murdered, do I need to explain the meaning of that to you? And some of the men doing these things were policemen not even a year ago. But this isn’t Rhodesia, or Zimbabwe, or whatever you want to call it. A few of us are still here, and we’re not going anywhere. We will not be terrorized and we will not be driven out. I am totally committed to the course of action I’ve asked you to take.’
‘And the media reaction?’ Gant said. ‘What will you do when CNN and the BBC are broadcasting footage of corpses being buried by bulldozers? What will you do when the Marines come ashore, with investigators from the Centers for Disease Control? What will you do afterward? How will you stay here? This is going to be a land of the dead.’
Fielding waved his hand, as he would wave away a mosquito. ‘Please don’t underestimate my ability to influence media coverage, or to influence the US government response. Let’s just say that members of Congress are among the least powerful of my friends. Anyway, this is a tiny island, barely worth mentioning. I’m sure you read the newspapers – people are dying everywhere. If a few thousand people here suddenly succumb to an infectious disease…’
He shrugged and paused for several seconds. Then he nodded. ‘And what am I going to do in this land of the dead, as you describe it? For one thing, I’m going to stay and see my enemies defeated. Then, after an appropriate length of time has passed, I’ll repopulate the island with immigrant workers who can better appreciate the blessings available here. To put it another way, I am completely prepared for the consequences of the operation.’
When he finished, a silence drew out between them.
‘Have I answered your concerns, Mr Gant?’
‘I guess you have. And I assume that means your operatives are ready?’
‘They’ve practiced nighttime attacks on the water towers half a dozen times now, without being detected.’
‘And you’ve taken the precautions I suggested? You have bottled water and food stockpiled? Your people are ready to defend this perimeter?’
‘I do, and they are.’
‘I want to tell you something. It’s a hell of a thing, what’s going to happen. I hope you’ll feel as gung ho about it afterward as you do now. Personally, I think you probably won’t.’
‘I’m surprised to hear you say that, Mr Gant. You sound like a man suffering from regrets. Will you lose sleep over this project? Have you lost sleep over similar projects in the past? If so, then I’m afraid I have the wrong intelligence sheet here.’
Gant stared into Fielding’s deep black eyes. ‘I’ve been around death a long time, Mr Fielding. It doesn’t bother me. In fact, it’s been my constant companion. If I’m away from it for any length of time, I start to feel lonely.’
Fielding smiled. ‘That’s good. That’s very, very good to hear.’
Gordo hummed a happy tune.
An hour had passed since they missed Foerster, and he and Jonah were in Kelly’s Bar, a dark and moody watering hole with two shamrocks in bright green neon adorning the front windows. The place sat along a grim and desolate strip of road, across from a cemetery. The nearest open shop was halfway up the street, a place that installed alarm systems. Also, there was a scrap metal dealer next door, a sign announcing ‘We Buy and Sell’ hovering above a barbed wire fence, but Gordo had never seen anybody go in or out of there. Kelly’s itself was long and narrow inside, like a tunnel, and always smelled of beer and piss. On the plus side, they had their own diesel- powered generator under an awning behind the building, and they weren’t reluctant to use it. As a result, the jukebox in the far corner and the color TV bolted to the wall over the bar always worked.
