Carnival of Mayhem (Gray Spear Society) Page 4

  He stepped aside. She brushed her hip against his as she walked past. He twitched as if she had shocked him.

  The hotel room had a single bed and just enough room to walk around it. An old television hung from the ceiling in the corner, supported by a cage of steel bars. She heard water dripping in the bathroom.

  "I represent the people of the Russian Federation," she said. "I come with a proposal both of us will find beneficial."

  "Russia?" His eyes widened.

  "It has come to our attention that you are engaged in a project of great interest. A mysterious illness is killing Americans?"

  He shook his head. "I can't talk about that."

  "Mr. Woods, Russia and the United States are not enemies. We are joined in our desire for a peaceful, prosperous world. When we received word of the terrible tragedy here, we were deeply concerned. What if this plague spreads? A threat to one people is a threat to all people. So, we wish to find a cure as quickly as possible, before millions of innocent lives are lost. You can facilitate this."

  "What are you saying, exactly?"

  "We are aware of your... financial difficulties," she said gently. "You will lose your home soon, I think. We will pay off all of your debts and leave you with cash in your pocket."

  He stepped back. "Are you trying to bribe me?"

  "That's an ugly word. I'm proposing a business arrangement, payment for services rendered. You're a contractor, so you understand these things. Nothing is wrong with a little commerce."

  "Unless it involves selling classified information!" He shook his head.

  "I'm not asking for the design of a new weapons system." She rolled her eyes. "We just want to know about this illness. What are the symptoms? How does it spread? Who is most vulnerable? What treatments work best?"

  "No." He drew back. "I can't."

  "This medical information should be public. There is no reason to keep it secret."

  "I think you should leave." He pointed towards the door.

  "How much do you owe on your mortgage? I am authorized to write a check for the entire amount, principle plus accrued interest and penalties, tonight."

  He hesitated. She could almost see the large numbers rolling around in his head.

  "When you are forced to declare bankruptcy, you could lose your security clearance," she said. "Then you'll be fired. Are you prepared to face that humiliation? No money, no job, no home, no respect."

  "Umm..." He frowned.

  "I am offering you a new life without debt or financial obligation," she said in a sweet, gentle voice. "You can start over. That's a very rare opportunity."

  "I'll get caught and go to prison."

  She put a hand on his shoulder. "Why would that happen? I won't tell, and neither will you. We're professionals, after all. If you have to flee for any reason, Russia will provide a safe haven, and there is no extradition treaty between us and the United States. But I'm absolutely sure that won't be necessary. I have much experience with this kind of arrangement."

  He furrowed his brow.

  She reached into her purse and took out a roll of hundred dollar bills. She casually tossed it to him. "Ten thousand American dollars."

  "For what? I haven't done anything."

  "It's a gift." She shrugged. "Enjoy."

  He weighed the roll with his hand.

  "Mr. Woods, the Russian people will be grateful—I will be grateful—for whatever help you can provide. Stopping this horrible disease is our highest priority." She took a business card from her purse and placed it on the nightstand. "Please consider my proposal. When you're ready, call the number. Good night. I hope we'll meet again."

  She gave him a warm smile and left the room.

  * * *

  Timothy Smythe heard the sound of glass breaking, followed by vigorous cursing. He looked up from the medical report he was reading in his office.

  "Is there a problem?" he called out.

  Nobody answered.

  Suddenly concerned, he stood up and hurried out of his office. Chemical spills in this place could quickly become dangerous. He jogged through the narrow green corridors of the laboratory.

  He discovered Mark Woods kneeling on the floor of one of the supply closets. He was using rubber gloves and paper towels to collect the broken fragments of a jar.

  "What's going on?" Smythe said. "What did you spill?"

  "Nothing serious, sir," Woods kept his head down. "I got it under control."

  Smythe sniffed the air. "It smells like glue. Ethyl acetate?"

  "Yes, sir. I already turned all the vents on. I'll have it cleaned up in a minute."

  "Damn it, man! You have to be more careful. There are some nasty substances in here."

  "I know!" Woods finally looked up. "It was a mistake, sir. The bottle was right at the edge of the shelf and I bumped it." He had bags under his eyes, and his hair needed to be brushed.

  Smythe had a general dislike for contractors like Woods. They were always worrying about the next big pay day instead of long-term commitments. As far as Smythe was concerned, contractors were just mercenaries in nice shirts. He didn't understand why a proud and honorable institution like the Army employed so many.

  He had a particular problem with contractors working on classified research projects, where trust and integrity were so vital. The break-in two nights ago had made him even more sensitive to security concerns. Everybody in the laboratory was still jumpy, and there was lingering suspicion that somebody on the inside had assisted the intruders.

  "You look like hell," Smythe said.

  "I didn't get much sleep last night."

  "What's wrong?"

  An odd expression flashed on Woods' face, as if he were guilty or afraid. Smythe wasn't sure what it meant.

  "Just insomnia, sir. I'm still bothered by what happened here the other night."

  "Why?" Smythe said. "You weren't involved."

  "I saw the damage and I heard the rumors. I should go back to my motel before I break something else. I need a nap."

  "No." Smythe shook his head. "There is a hospital full of patients who are depending on us for their lives. People are dying as we speak. Tired is no excuse for dereliction of duty. I'm ordering you to stay."

  Woods stood up. "I don't report to you, sir. You can't give me orders."

  "I'm an officer and a doctor, and you're just a civilian technician. Officially, I'm not your boss, but I can still make your life miserable, so do as I say."

  "Yes, sir," Woods said. He added an angry salute.

  "Now finish cleaning up this mess and get back to work. We're not paying you to screw around." Smythe walked away.

  Chapter Four

  Aaron sat in the small lobby of the Green Vines Hotel. The furniture was made of wrought iron, and the hard seats weren't comfortable. A dusty, fake tree stood in the corner. Faded pictures of sunlit vineyards were hung on the walls, and they failed to make the room more inviting.

  It was also cold. A portable electric heater rattled in the corner, but it produced more noise than heat. Every time somebody opened the door, a fresh blast of brisk air washed over Aaron and raised goose bumps on his skin. A big cup of steaming hot coffee was his only source of comfort.

  He had a laptop computer on the table in front of him, and the display was oriented so anybody who entered the hotel could see it easily. He was playing online poker, badly, but that didn't matter. The point was to have a game going.

  His bulky gray phone rang, and he quickly answered it. "Hello?"

  "Woods just arrived," Marina said. "He's parking now. He'll be in the lobby in a minute or two."

  Aaron checked his watch, which showed 6 PM. "Right on schedule. I'm ready." He put his phone away.

  He went back to his poker game. He hated the online experience. The best part of gambling was watching the other guy sweat, and anonymous card play just wasn't interesting to him. He also believed some of the players were cheating. Worse yet, he didn't know how to cheat. This is a game
for suckers, he thought.

  Woods walked through the door, sending another blast of frigid air at Aaron. He tried not to shiver.

  Woods stopped to look at the screen. Aaron immediately placed a stupid thousand dollar bet, already knowing he would lose the money.

  "Whoa," Woods said.

  He stood there while Aaron played out the hand to its expected conclusion.

  "Damn," Aaron said.

  "You only had a pair of threes," Woods said. "What did you expect?"

  Aaron looked up. Woods had bags under his bloodshot eyes, and his mouth hung slightly open. Clearly, he needed sleep. Aaron guessed he had spent all night thinking about Marina's bribery offer.

  "I was trying to bluff," Aaron said. "Obviously, it didn't work too well. Do you play poker?"

  Woods nodded. "Sure. All the time."

  "I'm tuning up for a big game tonight with some old friends."

  "How big?"

  "Fifty dollar ante. Five hundred dollar max bet."

  "That can get expensive if you lose." Woods was more alert now.

  "To be honest, I'm expecting to lose. I'm not really a poker expert."

  "Then why play?"

  "Because I love hanging out with my friends," Aaron said. "We tell jokes and drink fine booze. Nobody takes it too seriously."

  Woods moved a little closer. "You're staying at this hotel?"

  "I'm a regional sales manager, and I pretty much live in hotels. What about you?"

  "I'm stuck here for the duration of a contract. I don't know when I'll go home."

  "I didn't get your name."

  "Mark Woods."

  Aaron put out his hand. "Joseph Drake of Quick Click Auto Parts. Glad to meet you." They shook hands. "Now I'd better get back to my game before they kick me out." He turned to his laptop.

  Woods just stood silently instead of leaving.

  The fish is hooked, Aaron thought. He played another hand. He intentionally bet big and lost again.

  He looked back at Woods. "Can I help you?"

  "I'll just watch." Woods scratched the stubble on his chin. "If you don't mind."

  "Then give me some tips. I'm getting creamed."

  "Sure." Woods moved closer and leaned over the laptop with an eager expression.

  The next hand began with two cards dealt to each player. These were known as the "hole" cards and were kept secret from the other players.

  "An ace and a five," Woods said. "Not bad. I always like an ace in the hole."

  "Should I make a big bet?"

  "Just wait. You'll have plenty of chances to bet."

  "But I want to scare them," Aaron said.

  Woods shook his head. "Nobody is scared of you right now. Just pass."

  Aaron passed.

  The next three cards were called the "flop." All the players shared these cards and could use them to construct their final hand.

  "Another five," Woods said. "Nice."

  "Can I bet now?" Aaron said.

  "Sure, but a low pair probably won't win when the table is so crowded. Go easy."

  Aaron bet three hundred dollars. Woods shook his head as if frustrated. Two players folded, but the remaining three pushed the bet up to five hundred.

  "They think you're a born loser," Woods said. "You have to make them respect you. Poker is a game of respect."

  "I know that much," Aaron said.

  The "turn" card was dealt, and like the flop, this one was shared between players.

  "No help there," Woods said. "I estimate you have less than a fifty percent chance of winning."

  One of the other players bet two hundred dollars. Aaron immediately clicked the "fold" button.

  "Why did you give up?" Woods said.

  "You just told me I was going to lose."

  "That's not what I said. I estimated a probability."

  Aaron was playing like an idiot on purpose. He hoped Woods was too tired to realize what was really happening, and so far that seemed to be the case. After watching three more hands, Woods finally asked the question Aaron was waiting to hear.

  "I was wondering," Woods said. "Could I play with you and your friends tonight?"

  Reel in the fish slowly, Aaron thought. "I don't know." He frowned. "You seem like a nice guy, but I don't think my buddies want me to invite a stranger to the party. It's a tight group."

  "Please. I live in Virginia, and I don't know anybody here. It's been tough for me. I could really use some fun."

  "How are you going to pay for chips? The buy-in is five grand, and we don't take personal checks. You'll have to bring cash. I'm not trying to be an asshole but we don't know you. You're credit is no good."

  Woods gnawed his lip. "I have cash."

  Aaron wanted to smile but kept a straight face. The fish is in the net. "That much? Really?"

  "Sure."

  "You're not a drug dealer, are you?"

  "No," Woods said sharply. "Nothing like that. I always keep plenty of cash when I'm on the road. You never know what can happen."

  The lie was delivered better than Aaron had expected with only a slight blush and eye twitch. He knew Woods was planning to use the cash roll that Marina had conveniently given to him last night.

  Aaron nodded. "That's true. OK. I'll call my friends to make sure they're cool with this. Show up with the money and a positive attitude. I can't promise you'll get to play. My friends don't trust outsiders much."

  "I understand. Thanks." Woods smiled. "Where and when?"

  "This hotel, room 512. Eight PM."

  "Got it."

  "And you should take a shower and freshen up," Aaron said. "You want to make a good first impression."

  * * *

  Aaron sat at a square table in room 512.

  Jack, the head of security for the Chicago cell, sat to the left. He wore a cowboy hat on his bald head, and his blue eyes peered from the shadows beneath the brim. His stylish gray jacket had black leather patches on the shoulders.

  Nancy occupied the seat on Aaron's right. She did all of the mechanical and maintenance work for the cell. He had rarely seen her without grease under her fingernails, but for tonight's affair she had cleaned herself up. Her frizzy brown hair was combed and trimmed. She wore a long red dress that fit her stout figure well. She had scrubbed her face so hard her skin was a rosy pink.

  Normally, Jack and Nancy spent all of their working hours in headquarters. They were caculas or assistants to legionnaires like Aaron. They rarely participated in field work, and never when it involved physical danger. Because Mark Woods was no kind of threat, Ethel had allowed Jack and Nancy to play the part of Aaron's "friends" for tonight.

  Aaron checked his watch. "It's 8:10. Woods is late."

  "Maybe he's having second thoughts," Jack said. "If he doesn't spend Marina's money, he can pretend he hasn't done anything wrong."

  "I think it's more likely he just fell asleep. I actually feel sorry for the poor guy."

  "The choices are his to make, sir. Nobody else is responsible for his mistakes."

  Aaron sighed. "Still feels like entrapment."

  There was a knock at the door. He went over and opened it. Woods stood there, freshly showered and shaved, and he wore a blue silk shirt.

  "Come in," Aaron said with a broad smile. "You're lucky. One of the boys couldn't make it, so we have a seat for you. Where is the cash?"

  Woods took out the roll of hundred dollar bills Marina had given him last night.

  "Nice," Aaron said. "Come in. Meet my friends. Hey, guys! The man I told you about, Mark Woods, is here."

  They approached the card table.

  Aaron pointed at Jack. "This is George. We met in college and have been buddies ever since. I wish I had his golf handicap."

  Jack gave Woods a hard, intimidating stare.

  "The young lady is Candice." Aaron smiled at Nancy. "She runs research and development for Quick Click. She's a certified genius."

  Nancy blushed. "Glad to meet you."

  "You m
entioned you were here on a contract," Aaron said. "What kind?"

  "I'm a medical technician," Woods said.

  "Where?"

  "Saint Athanasius Hospital."

  "Saint Athanasius?" Aaron leaned forward. "Do you know about the tuberculosis outbreak?"

  "I'm not in that department," Woods said too quickly. "I don't know anything about it." He smiled nervously.

  "I'd like to hear your expert opinion, anyway. Everybody is spooked. Thirsty? What's your pleasure?" Aaron looked at a dresser with several bottles of hard liquor on top.

  Woods walked over. "Wow. This is good stuff!" He picked up a brown bottle. "25-year MaCallan Scotch. I have to try this."

  "Go ahead. We didn't bring it just for show."

  Woods poured himself a shot and took a sip. He swirled the liquor in his mouth for a moment before swallowing. "Smooth."

  "Let's get started."

  They sat at the table and Woods bought his chips. He only spent half his money roll, which was the minimum buy-in of five thousand dollars. Aaron knew it was just a matter of time before the rest was handed over.

  The game proceeded according to plan. They let Woods win a little at first to encourage him, but then slowly, inexorably, they took his money away. It was a scam as old as the game of poker itself.

  Aaron, Nancy, and Jack were all good players, but they couldn't allow even the slimmest possibility of failure, so they cheated. They signaled each other with subtle hand gestures and marked cards. Countless hours spent watching security monitors had allowed Jack to practice his card manipulation skills until he had become a master, and he put that ability to good use now.

  Woods never had a chance. It took only two hours for him to burn through his chips. He eyed his dwindling pile with a glum expression.

  "Bad luck," Aaron said, "but it happens to everybody, or maybe you're not as good as you thought. You should quit now."

  This suggestion was a slap in the face to a hardcore gambler like Woods, and he immediately placed the remainder of his cash roll on the table. "I want more chips."

  "No." Jack shook his head. "I don't like sitting with losers."

  "I'm a winner!" Woods glared at him. "And I'm due for a lucky break. Give me the damn chips."

  "Are you sure?"