“Thank you, everybody,” Dr. Bob called out from the sidelines at the end of the final game, during which he’d had to sit out. “Great workout! And for those that are interested and available, Dr. Stapleton and I will be here tomorrow at the same time for anyone and everyone who’d like to play again.”
“Yes, thank you all for including me,” Jack called out from the court. “And my name is Jack, not Dr. Stapleton.” He’d been guarding Pete in the final game and had been doing a reasonably good job, as he was obviously in great shape and by that time Pete was clearly winded.
For a few moments, Alexei held back as people prepared to leave. Usually, he was the first to depart, but on this occasion, he was eager to have a brief, passing chat with Jack if possible, but he certainly didn’t want to be caught in a real conversation with him or anyone else. When Jack went over to interact with Dr. Bob, Alexei took the opportunity to pull out his phone and send a quick text to Dmitry to come get him. Just when he was repocketing the phone, he saw Jack head toward a red road bike leaning against a short run of bleachers.
Thinking this was his chance, Alexei hurried over to arrive the moment Jack had mounted and was about to peddle away.
“Excuse me, Jack!” Alexei began. They had been introduced by JD before the first game they’d had on opposing teams. “May I ask you a quick question? I don’t have much time because my ride is coming to pick me up.”
“Certainly,” Jack said. He let go of his handlebars and straightened up but remained astride his Trek.
“JD told me you are a forensic pathologist. I’m impressed on multiple levels, including your basketball skills. How is it you are in such obviously good shape for someone as old as yourself?”
Jack laughed. He was obviously flattered, which was the point. “I’m lucky enough to play quite a bit of pickup basketball in New York. One of the benefits of being a forensic pathologist is that we have long but predictable hours.”
“I see,” Alexei said. “I never thought of that, but I get it. No emergencies.”
“Correct,” Jack said. “Let me ask you a question. Not everyone is familiar with the specialty. How is it that you are?”
“I’m a microbiology technician at the Academic Medical Center in Amsterdam.”
“So, you are part of the medical community in the Netherlands. Interesting, but I’m surprised. I’d heard you were a militiaman, so I assumed you’d be somehow connected with the military or the defense industry.”
“Being a member of a militia has been a hobby since I was a teenager. One other quick question, if you don’t mind my asking. As a forensic pathologist, are you here in Essex Falls personally or professionally?”
“A bit of both. Since you’re part of the medical fraternity, I’ll be a bit more explicit. My wife, who is also a forensic pathologist, and I are visiting Dr. Bob, who happens to be an old friend. That’s the social aspect. But in addition, tomorrow morning, we’ll be helping him do an autopsy at his office on a young man who managed to get himself poisoned. I assume you’ve heard, since it is a small town and he was a founding member of the Diehard Patriots, the group you and your colleagues are here to instruct. Following the autopsy we’ll also be consulting with Dr. Bob on what seems to be a localoutbreak of a neurodegenerative Alzheimer’s-like condition that’s killed a couple of people and sickened quite a few others that all tested negative for Alzheimer’s.”
Alexei stiffened as if Jack had slapped him. In one fell swoop, he’d learned three things he didn’t want to hear. The first was that Ethan Jameson was soon going to be autopsied by highly trained specialists, meaning that the presence of Novichok would most likely be detected; second, there were two forensic pathologists visiting, not one, which hugely complicated any simple preventive maneuver like using more Novichok to rid the scene of a threatening individual; and third, their prion proof of concept was already attracting professional attention, which was something they’d never considered. It had always been assumed that it wouldn’t happen until they were long gone and safely back in Mother Russia.
“That’s rather a coincidence, wouldn’t you say,” Jack said.
“What’s a coincidence?” As if waking from a mini-trance, Alexei realized that for a stunned moment he’d tuned out the conversation and missed the last thing Jack had said.
“It’s a coincidence that my wife and I are sharing the same lake with you and your compatriots. When we first arrived this afternoon, we could see several of you using the diving board on the dock.”
“Yes, of course, that is quite a coincidence,” Alexei said and immediately wondered if this coincidence might possibly be a godsend. The two houses certainly were isolated. He then made a point of checking his watch. “Uh-oh! I’m sorry, but I have to get on my way. The person who picks me up is a bear about waiting even for a few minutes.”
“Are you going to play again tomorrow?” Jack asked.
“I’d like to,” Alexei said while beginning to back away.
“We’ll continue our conversation if you do,” Jack said. “You’re a talented basketball player yourself. Did you play in school?”
“I did,” Alexei said. “In secondary school in…” Alexei caught himself at the last second, realizing that in his agitated state he was about to say Staraya Russa instead of the Dutch town he’d committed to memory as part of his fictious background. Stumbling over his words he managed to add: “I really have to go. Sorry!”
“I hope to see you tomorrow,” Jack said with a wave.
Power walking away, Alexei skirted the elementary school and emerged out onto Main Street. Nearly seven, the town appeared far different than it had at five o’clock. Now it was almost devoid of vehicular traffic and pedestrians except down near Ted’s Diner and across the street at the town’s only bar.
“Come on, Dmitry!” Alexei urged under his breath. With what he’d learned, he was frantic to get back to the Bennet Estate to fill in the others, particularly egomaniacal Viktor. Although nervous and even fearful about what might happen over the next few days, he also felt a degree of self-righteous indignation that he’d been correct and Viktor wrong about this insistence on a final prion harvest and release instead of packing up and leaving on Monday when they had planned. Had they left then, they would already be back in Koltsovo, most likely celebrating with their immediate families the completion of a hugely successful operation that could result in all four of them getting an Order of Merit to the Fatherland. They all knew the higher-ups in the GRU were going to be ecstatic about the efficacy of theta prion as a game-changing bioweapon. Instead, here they were still isolated in the middle of nowhere with a ballooning existential threat like a gathering summer storm.
Finally in the distance Alexei saw the Dodge Ram appear, heading in his direction. To speed up the pickup, he stepped out in thestreet so Dmitry could just merely come to a stop and Alexei would leap in. Thirty seconds later, that was exactly what happened.
“How was your game?” Dmitry questioned as he made a U-turn in the empty street and then headed back the way he’d come.
“The game was fine. For exercise it couldn’t have been better as I played continuously. But at the very end I learned some serious shit that Viktor and Nikolai need to know immediately. In twenty-four hours or so, we could be in deep trouble, meaning there’s some key decisions that have to be made and made right away, like tonight.”
“Uh-oh,” Dmitry voiced. “This doesn’t sound good. Give me a short version so I know what’s coming.”
