Dismissing the tourists’ presence, Vlad turned toward Aboud and asked in a low voice, “What progress have you made?”
“A great deal.” The doctor beamed. “The virus and vaccine have both been perfected.”
A broad smile spread across Vlad’s face. “At last?”
“At last,” Aboud confirmed with pride in his voice.
“Then we are ready to proceed.”
“Not quite.”
The Russian’s smile faded.
“Let’s keep walking,” the doctor urged.
“Are you afraid you’ve been followed?”
Aboud glanced casually over his shoulder. “One can’t be too careful though it’s highly unlikely. My benefactor’s people wear ridiculous black suits that are very easy to spot. Moreover, they shun public attractions the way a vampire shuns garlic.”
Vlad chuckled appreciatively.
“Of course, my benefactor does employ one outsider,” Aboud added. “An idiot who wears a cowboy hat. He almost killed my prize specimen a few weeks ago.”
Vlad’s eyes narrowed as he scanned the sightseers around them. His height advantage allowed him a better view. “There is no one in a cowboy hat.”
The doctor shrugged. “I didn’t think so. The man’s a complete imbecile. I doubt he would have the wit to find his way here.”
They resumed their conversation and their walk, following the curve of the pier’s tip around to the opposite side.
“Why are we not ready to proceed yet?” Vlad persisted.
“I have one more loose end to tie up. Nothing that will take more than a week. When I leave my benefactor’s employ, I wish to do so on amicable terms, having met all his requirements. He will pay me well and give no thought to my future plans which will pay me better still.”
“I see your point,” the Russian conceded. “You don’t want this fanatic sending someone to hunt you down. But surely you’ll need to stay around after your work is finished, no?”
“I have made it clear that once I have developed his virus and vaccine, I will move on to other projects. My staff, however, will remain to fulfill his orders at least for a short time. My most able assistant, Maskeen, will oversee any additional production for the next month or so. Right now, he and my technicians are busy culturing plague and vaccine enough for one hundred and fifty men while I attend to the final task—the delivery device.”
“Since we know no one is following us, let’s sit down for a moment in the shade.” Vlad pointed to one of the hexagonal benches spaced at regular intervals along the edge of the pier. After they were seated, he turned to his companion. “Just out of curiosity, what sort delivery device does your benefactor have in mind? Everybody knows airborne plague is very difficult to dispense.”
Aboud laughed and shook his head in wonderment. “You’ll never guess what he gave me to work with. He wants to use water bottles.”
“Water bottles?” the Russian echoed in disbelief.
“Stainless steel water dispensers. The kind that sports fanatics all seem to carry nowadays. The containers hold half a liter of liquid. The lid is made of hard plastic and the container of brightly colored metal.”
Vlad continued to peer at him doubtfully.
The doctor elaborated. “The bottles won’t contain water, of course. Each one will house a pressurized gas canister. The aerosol can be dispensed by a hidden trigger in the lid.”
“And you say he has ordered enough of these for one hundred and fifty men to dispense. That’s all?”
“Incredible, isn’t it? I have no idea what my benefactor thinks he can accomplish on such a small scale. Given the power of the virus, it’s ridiculous to use it in this way—like detonating an atom bomb to demolish an ant hill.” Aboud threw his hands up in disgust. “Well, let him go fight his little war! His petty grudges hold no interest for me.”
“You told me he was crazy.” Vlad nodded sagely. “Now I believe you.”
“In any case, I must oversee the design and manufacture of the initial batch of containers. Once that’s done, I will be free to leave, and we will be free to launch our private venture.”
“Things are looking up.” The Russian sounded pleased. “I’ll contact our prospective bidders and tell them we will shortly arrange a demonstration for them.”
“You can expect to hear from me in about a week,” Aboud said. “I’ll call you when my current task is finished. Then we can plan a timetable for the auction.”
The two men rose and shook hands before departing in opposite directions.
***
A nondescript man wearing a baseball cap pulled low over his forehead watched them go. He removed a small listening device from his ear and then emerged from the shadows of the pavilion. Leroy Hunt claimed the bench the two had vacated in order to ruminate over what he’d just heard. The cowboy was fuming inwardly at Aboud’s description of him. He fought an overwhelming urge to follow the whistlepig to the parking garage and plug him right there as he got into his car. Of course, the preacher would get a mite riled since the doc had a week’s worth of chores ahead of him.
Leroy glanced at his phone and swiped through the photos he’d just taken. While standing near the edge of the dock among a gaggle of tourists, he’d managed to take some choice shots of the scenery. He’d also managed to capture several close-ups of the two men deep in conversation. Even though he’d
