CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
“So here’s how I see it,” Doug finished up. “I want some scientists and other experts to examine the documents that Johannsen told me where to find before we say anything. Colonel Christian and some of his men will go get them first and bring them back here in order to keep anyone else in the government from stopping publication if they prove to be true. Same for the possibilities of a vaccine or a cure. We want to get that out, too, but I see no sense in giving people false hope before we’re sure, and frankly, I don’t think the black and Hispanic communities would believe us without proof. And last, I want the people here released, with Mr. Taylor sending scientific representatives of his choice into the CDC to monitor the work there. Mr. Taylor, you can either go into the CDC or go with Colonel Christian to secure the documents or send your representatives to each place and stay here with your people; it’s your choice.” He looked at the others, trying to gauge everyone’s reactions, then added, “Whatever we do, we don’t want either the government or the military, other than the colonel here, to get wind of what we’re up to until we can publish our findings on the net in a believable manner. So far as I know, it’s only Edgar Tomin who’s involved in this mess, but there may be others. In fact, there’s almost certain to be others and we want to get them, too.”
Fridge blew out a breath of air. “Doug, you never did do things small. This is a lot to take in all at once.”
“I know. And it may not be all, yet. I forgot to tell you, that I left word for Amelia to call me as soon as she’s out of surgery and awake. There was something else she was trying to tell me before she passed out. She’ll probably be in surgery, then recovery for a few more hours. Johannsen is in surgery, too—and as much as I hate the man, I hope he survives long enough to question him some more.” He felt his eyelids dragging. “In the meantime, I’ve got to rest for a while if you want me to carry on.”
Fridge nodded. “He’s right, Preacher. If there’s a chance for our people, we got to go along with him.”
Qualluf looked as if he had a bad case of indigestion. “How do we know he’s telling the truth? Maybe he’s just trying to get those CDC people free.”
Incongruously, Fridge laughed out loud. Even Doug peered at him curiously, wondering what was funny.
“Preacher, do you really think Doug would have shot his arm practically off and put another bullet in his leg just to try fooling you? Or let you know his wife is here? Or that Johannsen is just one building over?
Uh uh. He’s telling the truth. We’re going to go along with him.”
“Since when did you take command?” Qualluf said.
“I didn’t. But I will if I have to.”
Doug noticed that both men had dropped almost all of the black vernacular.
Qualluf stared at his military commander and slowly nodded. “I’ll pick the best men available to go into the CDC along with the people we’ve been holding here. And I’ll send some more men with the colonel to be sure we see everything if he finds any papers in Charleston. Then as soon as I quiet the people on the lines down, I’ll be over at the CDC myself. I want to be present when Johannsen is questioned.”
“Done,” Doug agreed, then expounded on his last thought, which had depended on everything else to come off right before it would be possible. “And one last thing. After we all agree on where we go from here, I’m going to call the Vice President back, but I’m not going to tell her yet about the possibility of Tomlin’s involvement. I’m afraid it might leak. But once we know, I want to see if the three of us can get a joint national broadcast audience after we release the data to the net.”
“That might—hell, it probably will—get me a court martial,” Colonel Christian said, “but assuming all this stuff is true, I’ll do it. Goddamn, I should have gone into business with my Dad, like he wanted me to.
Not that business is going to be very good for a long time to come, but it would sure as hell be safer!”
Doug called Teresa and told her to allow the armed blacks to enter the CDC and accompany anyone they wanted to as part of the bargain he had struck. Then he made that call to Santes.
Vice President Santes was alarmed at first that it was Doug Craddock’s wife calling her, but only momentarily. June quickly explained part of what Doug had done and that the pain killing drugs had finally put him to sleep in the midst of dialing her number.
“So the hostages have been released and a truce is in place for the time being?”
“Yes, Mrs. Vice President, but there’s more he needs to do, and I think he’s the only one who can make everyone work together. But please, don’t let any of this get out yet. There’s other parts of the overall problem he hasn’t got settled yet, particularly what else Johannsen knows, and he still needs some time with Amel—the CDC Director when she gets out of surgery.” June still didn’t have any idea of what else Amelia might know. Whatever it was, if anything, she hadn’t told either her or Doug before the attack happened. Either she had reason to keep silent or events had overtaken her before she could speak and she had been scared to confide it to anyone while being held captive. And it might very well be nothing, as Doug had suggested. As if there wasn’t enough already.
“Alright. Give everyone there my thanks for working with me. I’ll tell the president the hostages have been released and we have a temporary truce but that we need more time to work out details.”
“Thank you ma’am. We should know more in another day or so. I’ll tell Doug to call you as soon as he’s awake again. But he has to go into surgery soon himself.”
“I see. That was a heroic thing he did, just to hear about it. Good bye now. Have someone call me back every six or eight hours to keep me informed.”
“Yes ma’am, I will.”
June thumbed the phone off, wondering at the way events shaped a person’s life. Just a few short weeks ago she never could have imagined that she would not only be married again, but that she and her husband would be talking to the Vice President of the United States over one of her private lines!
It was dark as the former hostages made their way back to the science building, accompanied by the men and women selected by Qualluf to go with them. June wanted nothing more than get under a shower and into clean clothes, but she forced herself to ignore her bodily needs for the time being. It had suddenly occurred to her that not only had she been talking to the Vice President, but that she and Doug were temporarily in charge of CDC operations. Or she and Teresa until Doug was back on his feet. It was a humbling thought, and a frightening one at the same time.
“We should dress his wounds,” Doug’s nurse said. “All the doctor did was put in a couple of quick stitches to hold the wounds closed and load him up on antibiotics and pain killer. He’s going to need surgery, too.”
How to tell a nurse that sometimes what seemed urgent to a medical person had to take a back seat to considerations much more important. June wanted to take care of Doug, but she knew he had to have some rest, too. She wondered… maybe his surgery could be done under a local anesthetic so he wouldn’t be incapacitated for a long period like a general anesthetic would do. “He needs to rest more than anything. And then he has to either stay awake or be capable of being woken up. Would you please go talk to the doctor who treated him first and see if the work he needs could be done under a local?”
The nurse nodded dubiously, but went to ask, wondering what had gone on in that closed room she had been barred from. Something very important, evidently.
Tomlin was barely listening to the president.
“Edgar, what’s wrong with you?” the president asked irritably. He was suffering badly from lack of sleep and his National Security Director was off in la-la land.
“Oh, sorry, Mr. President. I was just thinking, now that the situation in Atlanta has calmed down, perhaps Vice president Santes could be relieved of those duties and given something else to do.” Anything to get her out of the way.
“Like what? There’s nothing else she can do that I can’t do better. Besides, she said there’s still a lot of issues to be resolved. I extended the deadline for her and the army until the end of the week. So long as she’s doing well there, why move her?” Marshall was grudgingly sincere in his praise, despite never having liked the idea of a
