Andrés was dead by five thirty that afternoon when his parents returned home from work.
There was no trace of any visitors. The extensive vomit on the boy’s bed and on the floor reeked of stomach contents, and therefore the faint odor of the Malort was masked. Daniel was contacted by the parents to ask if he’d checked in on their son, but he said he’d been too busy and was truly sorry. That night, after Daniel performed his evening ritual of spying on the Havarti women, he retreated to his tree fort and finished off the bottle of Malort.
“We will not be able to enter the laboratory for some time.”
Wagner heard Kaspar’s voice but didn’t comprehend it as his mind had wandered down memory lane. “What?” was all he could respond.
“The BSL. It is contaminated and will have to remain sealed until the air filtration can safely filter the sarin out. The bodies will begin to decompose, so we must seal off this viewing area. It will have an unfavorable emotional effect on the staff.”
He stared at the men in the lab. Their hands were around their throats and holding their chests as they gasped for air. The sarin was causing them to asphyxiate due to the nervous system’s reaction to the nerve agent. Fluids began pouring out of their mouths, and they began to violently vomit.
Wagner winced as the bodies convulsed uncontrollably in unison. The twitching became a spastic jerking as limbs and legs, shoulders and head shook like they were possessed. The sarin was causing them to suffer bronchospasms, the process of the bronchial tubes contracting, making it impossible to breathe.
The most disconcerting aspect of the death process was the SLUDGE—an acronym for salivation, lacrimation, urination, defecation, gastrointestinal distress, and emesis, a fancy term for puking. If there was a way for the human body to excrete fluids, it was now happening to these former cherished scientists of Odessa. But in less than ten minutes, they were all dead.
Wagner’s phone vibrated in his pocket. With a final glance at the dead, he walked down the corridor.
“Yes?”
The call had come in from Hexane, Odessa’s extensive team of computer experts, who not only conducted surveillance, but they were black-hat hackers capable of disabling or disrupting computer networks around the world.
“Sir, our facial-recognition software has picked up on the three American operatives you asked us to monitor.”
After Wagner had learned of the failure of his two hit teams sent to assassinate the Americans and the nemesis of Odessa, von Zwick, he was furious. He contacted Hexane and put out the global equivalent of an all-points bulletin. He wanted the computer analysts to monitor hospitals, planes, trains, and any other location with video camera surveillance or internet connections to find them.
“Where are they?”
“They arrived at the Baku Airport thirty minutes ago.”
“Track them! I want to know what kind of car they’re driving. Where are they staying? Trace every step.”
“This has been done already for you, sir. I will message the current data to you.”
Wagner smiled and nodded his head in approval. Hexane was one of Odessa’s greatest assets and the brainchild of Derek Jorgensen.
“I will watch for it. Where are they at this moment?”
“The British embassy, sir.”
“Thank you. Keep me informed.”
Wagner set his jaw. He’d take care of these meddlers himself. He sent a group text to his top three operatives, who’d asked to remain in Baku to monitor the activities at the U.S. Embassy. He instructed them to meet at the monument of Nicola Tesla, the famed Serbian inventor, in the park dedicated to him in one hour. It was halfway between the American and British embassies.
He stopped by the weapons room to retrieve silenced sidearms for his team. They’d make this quick and quiet.
Chapter Thirty-One
U.S. Embassy Grounds
Baku, Azerbaijan
Gunner, Cam and Bear gathered under the white temporary tents with the FBI investigative team dispatched from Quantico, Virginia. They were part of BRAG, the Bureau’s Bioterrorism Risk Assessment Group. Over the last decade, there had been a demonstrated willingness and capability by terrorist groups to acquire and employ biological weapons. During any investigation, it was not always easy to discern whether the incident was natural or the intentional release of a chemical agent. BRAG was designed to coordinate investigative efforts between the Bureau and the CDC, as well as other agencies.
An older, white-haired man with wire-rimmed glasses approached Gunner. He was wearing the signature navy-blue jacket with the letters FBI emblazoned on the back in gold. He introduced himself.
“I’m Frank Carlson, deputy assistant director assigned to BRAG. I received a communication from the Pentagon to allow you access to our investigation. What’s your interest in this?”
Gunner immediately liked Carlson. He was no-nonsense and got right to the point. Although their investigation had national security implications, Gunner assumed an FBI deputy assistant director of anything could be made privy to this.
“We’re investigating the missing cargo of a sunken German U-boat that may have been carrying some type of nerve agent.”
Carlson squinted and lowered his eyes as he studied Gunner and his fellow operatives. Then he burst out laughing. He leaned into Gunner as he spoke. “Nazis? You’re joking, right?”
Gunner didn’t take offense to the man’s reaction, as he probably would’ve said the same thing if the circumstances were reversed.
“We’re not sure if it is necessarily Nazi related. The missing canisters were first seen on the sunken wreckage of a U-boat off the coast of Puerto Rico. I went down there myself. The problem is that someone else salvaged the canisters before we did.”
“Who?”
“That’s what we’re investigating. Our leads have taken us to Berlin and then to Northern Germany, where a history professor compiled a ton of evidence that we’re assessing now.”
Carlson was still skeptical. He stood a little taller and waved his arms around at the massive response organized by Washington.
