Outside Alexei had a little trouble opening JD’s aged driver-side door as there was an old partially rusted crease that ran down the car’s side from the front fender almost to the taillight. He found that to get it to open, he had to lift up as well as pull out. Once inside he had no trouble starting the vehicle, and proceeded to head into town.
As he drove, Alexei was oblivious to the surroundings, playing over and over in his mind the seductive idea of faking a theta prion harvest. The more he thought about it, the better it sounded. He also made a snap decision to definitely raise the idea with Dmitry, despite his initial reluctance. The more he considered it, the more convinced he became that the possibility of being apprehended by the American authorities was just too big a risk, and in his mind the chances it might happen were increasing with every passing hour. What particularly sparked this mounting concern was recalling exactly what Jack Stapleton had said was on his mind, namely the issue of Ethan Jameson’s missing body and his questioning the commander’s supposed beer-making interests. And perhaps even more worrisome, his personal interest in the Bennet Estate’s diving board.
Alexei winced, trying to think of what he might say if Jack Stapleton sought him out to specifically ask if he could come over to the Bennet Estate and use the diving board. Or worse yet, what if Jack decided to just appear on his own, since using a diving board on a shared lake wasn’t all that out of the question. Alexei literally shuddered to think of a forensic pathologist out there diving in the company of Ethan Jameson’s body and now JD’s.
“Get ahold of yourself!” Alexei suddenly yelled out loud. For themoment he knew he had to stop thinking about Jack Stapleton as he was driving himself to distraction. Instead, he had to go back to concentrating on the mundane task of disposing of the car.
Shunning Main Street for the slight fear someone in the town might recognize the vehicle being driven by someone other than JD, Alexei used back streets and drove to the Bennet Park parking lot. It had occurred to him en route that the park would be a good place to leave the car because JD frequently parked there for basketball, and it was also conveniently screened with vegetation from the park itself, so it was possible he wouldn’t be observed by any of the current park patrons. Before he pulled in, Alexei checked it out. Although a half dozen cars were there at that time in the afternoon, conveniently enough there were no people milling around.
Alexei pulled in and quickly parked. After one last rapid check that the coast was clear, he exited the car, leaving the keys in the ignition. He then rapidly walked out of the parking lot itself. Without slowing he skirted the elementary school and emerged onto Main Street. There he was pleased to find Dmitry already waiting for him. Without a moment’s hesitation, he climbed up into the truck’s cab.
“Have you been here long?” Alexei questioned as he did his seat belt to keep the blasted alarm from going off.
“Two minutes,” Dmitry said as he backed up and then accelerated along Main Street.
Alexei explained where he’d put JD’s car and why, then, with that out of the way, he told Dmitry that he had something particularly important to discuss with him.
Dmitry looked over at Alexei with a confused expression. “Okay. What’s on your mind?”
“Our freedom,” Alexei said cryptically. He’d decided he’d broachthe subject, not with the potentially traitorous idea of falsifying the theta prion concentration but by convincing Dmitry about the seriousness of the threat that Jack Stapleton posed and which Viktor was ignoring. His idea was that once he’d succeeded in making Dmitry as concerned about Jack as he was, only then would he provide the solution. What he intended to emphasize once again was that they had already accomplished what they had come to Essex Falls to do, namely to establish the proof of concept that theta prion was without doubt the ultimate bioweapon for the East’s conflict with the West. He also planned to make it a point to explain that what they were currently doing with this unnecessary final harvest was putting their lives at risk merely to play to Viktor’s vanity.
Chapter 24
Friday, July 25, 3:05p.m.
Hamilton County, New York
“Thank you,” Jack said simply as he accepted a cold bottle of water from Mark Anderson, the owner of the American Pest Control Company. He was sitting in the man’s utilitarian office. Jack had just ridden his Trek the six miles from Essex Falls out from Livermore Road to the company’s location to interview the owner. He was hoping to learn anything at all about Ethan Jameson that might be helpful since Bill Hargrove was making no progress finding the missing body.
Jack had spent most of the day vainly trying to find some kind of common “food-borne thread” in Bob’s ever expanding dementia series, with Bob having seen yet another patient that very morning that probably needed to be added. This patient was a thirty-nine-year-old woman named Christine Stephens who’d developed an initially subtle but progressive gait problem three days previously. Since Jack was at the office making phone calls to the involved families, Bob had invited him in to see Christine Stephens. Jackhad been shocked at both the patient’s age and the speed with which her apparent dementia had developed. Prior to her sudden ataxia and confusion, she’d reportedly been completely well.
By two thirty in the afternoon, Jack had either visited or spoken with all fifteen involved households. Generally, most families tried to be helpful, but it was invariably stressful and difficult for everyone, especially since it was common knowledge that three of the patients had already died and several others were not that far behind. Despite the difficulties, it eventually had become completely clear to him that there was no common food source as he’d expected, adding another layer to the already compelling mystery.
“So, what can I do for you, Doctor?” Mark Anderson questioned. He was a sizable man in his mid-fifties with an unruly shock of salt-and-pepper hair and a weathered face. Not surprisingly he’d already admitted that hunting and fishing were his avowed passions. For his part, Jack had just finished explaining he was a medical examiner from New York City visiting Dr. Bob Nielson in hopes of helping him determine the exact cause of Ethan Jameson’s death.
“I’m assuming you have heard that Ethan Jameson’s body had mysteriously disappeared,” Jack added.
“Absolutely,” Mark said. “Chief Hargrove called me yesterday. Obviously I was shocked. I’d never heard of such a thing as a body disappearing from a morgue.”
“It happens,” Jack said. “But usually only in facilities where there is a large turnover and certainly not in a small town like Essex Falls. Do you have any idea of who might be involved or why?”
“Not a clue,” Mark said with a shake of his head.
“How long had Mr. Jameson worked here?”
“Quite a few years,” Mark said. “He came looking for work even before he was finished with high school, and he’s been here eversince. He’s been a reliable worker, although a bit hot under the collar and opinionated, particularly of late.”
“How many pesticide technicians do you have?”
“Ethan was one of five. Now I’m down to four.”
“Did Ethan get along with the others?”
“Reasonably so, I’d say. He’d actually trained several of them, as he’d been here the longest. The person he bumped heads with the most is Art Sorenson, my technician supervisor. I didn’t interact with Ethan all that much. That was Art’s job.”
“Any chance I might have a word with this Art Sorenson?” Jack said. “We’re getting a bit desperate for leads. I’m assuming Art dealt with Ethan on a regular basis.”
“Many times each and every day. As I said, it was Art’s job.” Mark leaned across his desk and pressed an intercom button. Almost immediately an old-fashioned speaker crackled to life with a woman’s voice. Mark asked for Art to come in and immediately got a positive reply.
