“I’m not, huh? How you planning on stopping me?”
Doug looked at his watch. “If either myself or Colonel Christian aren’t back within another two hours, I’ve left word for my people to contact the army and tell them we’re dead. That will be their signal to re-take the CDC by force.”
“We’ll set the motherfucking place on fire you try it.”
“If we don’t come back, your only contact with the army or the government is dead. You’ll wind up tied to a post just like those sorryass white supremacists were, instead of being in line for the new drugs if they work. Why in hell don’t you try helping for a change?” The lie about having to make contact within two hours came out of his mouth so quickly that he didn’t know he had formed the idea until he had said it, and then he knew it was a precaution he should have put in place before coming here. If he and Christian both died, there would be no point in further negotiations, the way he saw it.
Colonel Christian spoke for the first time, forming his words carefully. “Mr. Taylor, my original orders called for me to secure the CDC facility as my number one priority. It’s only through the good offices of the vice president that we didn’t simply move in here and kill every one of you that resisted. Now let me add something else to the discussion. Mr. Craddock?”
“Go ahead Colonel.”
“Before I left my headquarters, I gave orders to temporarily halt our advance and to fire only when fired upon. I don’t want any more civilian casualties than necessary to restore order. Agree to Mr. Craddock’s conditions and you can return with me and help settle the population down and put those rumors that started this fighting to rest. You would be doing both your country and your people a favor.”
“Ain’t my country no more. No deal. Like I told you, we dead anyway.” Qualluf folded his arms across his chest again, as if prepared to wait for better terms.
Exasperated, Doug looked over at Fridge. His friend had a distinctly uncomfortable expression on his face but appeared to be waiting on developments before making any kind of decision on his own.
Somehow, he had to get Fridge over to the side of reason. He didn’t think that even losing his family could have robbed him of all the good he remembered in the man. He was trying to think of something else to say when a knock came at the door.
“Come in!” Qualluf bellowed.
A light complexioned black man with a pistol stuck in his belt stepped into the room. “Preacher, we just grab a white boy holdin’ a white flag. He say some Amelia bitch want to talk to the man here. He say it
‘portant, like about that ‘hannsen dude invented that viral be killin us. Say he has to know. What you want me do with him?”
Doug stood up. He caught Amelia’s name and the reference to the scientist even through the thick vernacular of black patois the man spoke.
“Colonel, I think I better run back over there for a few minutes and see what this is about. Do you want to stay or go?”
“I can stay for awhile. Perhaps Mr. Taylor and Greene and I can talk further while you’re gone.”
“I ain’t say you can go yet,” Qualluf said, half rising from his chair.
“Well, I’m going. Fridge, I need to speak to you for a moment.”
“No!” Qualluf shouted.
Doug stared daggers at the man. “Mr. Taylor, Fridge lost his wife and children to the Harcourt virus. I lost my wife to the Mall Terrorists. I promise, this is personal and has nothing to do with our negotiations.”
“No.”
“I’ll talk to him, Preacher,” Fridge said mildly. “Can’t hurt nothing. And maybe we better let him go see what’s so important back there.” Without waiting on an answer, he took Doug’s arm and escorted him out of the room.
As quickly as they found a boundary of privacy in the hall, Fridge said “I didn’t know about that, Doug.
I’m sorry.”
“Thanks, Fridge. Listen, as badly as Amelia was hurt, she wouldn’t send for me if it weren’t something important. In the meantime, would you do me a personal favor?”
“If I can.”
“I just remarried. My wife’s name is June. She was on the admin staff. Would you see if she’s among the captives and if so, find out if she’s okay? And I’d appreciate it if you would keep it quiet.”
“I can do that much. June you say? Describe her for me.”
Doug did so. Fridge nodded, then said “Doug, try to get us out of this. I believe you, but that preacher got more power here than me and he’s convinced the government is behind the whole thing.” He looked down at his feet for a moment, then back up at Doug. “I was too, until I talked to you. I never knew you to lie.”
“Thanks, Fridge. I’ll do my damnedest to get it done. And trust me, if I thought the government was behind this, I’d be on your side.”
That drew a thin smile from the big man. He escorted Doug on down the hall and outside, then designated two guards to go with him back to the science building under a white flag. After that he went looking for June Craddock. He wondered if she were as nice a woman as Doug’s previous wife had been.
On the way back, Doug mentally reviewed everything he knew about the preacher. He recalled reading that Qualluf had a PhD. in psychology. Was that why he was using black vernacular, to make him think he was dealing with a dumb black man? Probably he thought. Too bad the preacher didn’t know that Doug had managed to remove most of the negative cultural attitudes toward blacks he had grown up with. Being in the military and fighting alongside men and women of all races was one quick way to make both sides see how vulnerable they were—and how in a crunch, skin color was the last thing anyone thought of.
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
President Marshall rubbed his hand over his face, feeling unshaven whiskers. It was late at night and his day hadn’t ended yet. Every time he tried leaving the Oval Office, something else came up to capture his attention and prevent him from getting some badly needed sleep.
The latest crisis was in North Korea, where they were threatening nuclear retaliation for deaths caused by the Harcourt virus. Damned crazy Koreans, getting upset over casualties from the disease that were minuscule compared to some nations. Why hadn’t Clinton, or even Bush, taken out their nuclear capability when they had a chance? Goddamn wimps. Now look. He shoved the briefing paper toward the pile destined for the shredder. What did they expect him to do? Personally, he thought they were going off the deep end because the world economy had crashed, and without exports they couldn’t feed their people. They ought to be glad the Harcourt virus was thinning them out a little. Fewer mouths to feed.
General Newman wanted to act now, take out their nukes, but he had refused. It might come to that, but he wasn’t going to start it. The little bastards had been digging into their mountains for damn near a quarter century. Deep probing satellite imagery showed so many tunnels and caverns that there was no way to get them all, despite the general’s confidence. That man was beginning to grate on his nerves. But what to do?
Finally he pressed the button that called in an aide.
“Get me Willingham. Tell him to get his ass up here as soon as possible.”
It’s worth a try, he thought. Get China to do the job. They had the manpower and the nukes, if it came to that. Anything to keep them away from America. The nation was holding together but he didn’t think it could survive the panic that would be caused by an atomic explosion on North American soil. China’s war with Taiwan wasn’t going well. If he offered to stop all replacement munitions shipments to Taiwan and withdraw the few naval units near the island, maybe they would come around—if their government survived long enough. So many factories on the mainland had shut down that the peasants and workers were going hungry.
Australia. Now that was one of the few nations in the world almost unaffected by the Harcourt virus.
Damn smart of them, keeping blacks and Asians out of their country, and their indigenous blacks were no
