The Arbonox Syndrome

By Michael Spitzkoff

Disgraced journalist Lain Barker tries to revive both his career and family while investigating a conspiracy behind a deadly new pandemic that could potentially kill millions.

Deeper into his investigation Lain finds himself

• Language: English
• Publisher: SpitzerStories
• Release date: Apr 15, 2021
• ISBN: 9781641846097

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Don’t look now but flu season is in full effect! Just last week the latest strain of the flu has caused the deaths of three people here in the Tri-State area, as well as seven more fatalities across the heartland stretching to the west coast this week alone. Do yourself a favor and make sure you go get your flu shots if you haven’t already! Lindsey Wagner of the New York Times.

Fast Forward

Lain Barker parked his rented Dodge Intrepid curbside on a busy Miami, Florida street shopping district, including the Miracle Mile and downtown Coral Gables. Among the crowd, a few shoppers donned white surgical masks. Lain bypassed the crowd, strutting to the end of the block to a café called Bembe Eats.

Lexi Remington sat in a booth at the very back of the café. From the hostess booth, Lain spotted him.

Is it just going to be you, darling? a hostess asked Lain.

No, I was supposed to meet someone here and it looks like he’s already seated.

Glancing quickly around the room, Lain walked over to Lexi’s booth.

I see you’re still as careful as ever, Lexi commented.

Just making sure, Lain said.

Unless someone followed you here, this place is totally safe. You know that, he said.

Yeah, but I’d rather be safe than sorry. So, let’s get down to business. You have something for me, Lain said, displaying a little anxiety.

Lexi slid a Manila sealed envelope across the table to Lain. It’s all there, everything I promised and then some.

Senator Dalton and his reps?

That’s what I said.

Well, if that’s the case than at the very least I owe you a lunch, Lain exclaimed with a grin as the server approached.

What can I get for you? the server asked.

Anything this man wants, and I’ll have a coffee with milk, Lain said.

***

The two men had their lunch and parted ways. Lain subtly eased a silver flask with a stallion engraved on it from his pocket and took a few large swigs of his favorite alcoholic beverage, bourbon.

Beaming, Lain took a victory march back to his rental car. As Lain approached his car, he could hear sirens blasting. He looked over his shoulder and saw an ambulance hopping the curve at a nearby condominium complex. Rolling a gurney, paramedics raced into the condominiums nearly stampeding a group of people. Lain stood there watching, while people milled about in the front lawn of the condo building. Fewer than five minutes later, the paramedics exited the building, only this time there was a male patient on the gurney. Blood spewed out of the patient’s nose and foam dripped from his mouth. The paramedics adjusted the mask they had perched on the man’s face just before they lifted the gurney in-to the ambulance.

There were whispers among the spectators. Do you think he has that virus they keep talking about? one of the people uttered.

Lain watched the ambulance whiz away. Was it the new virus?

Lain noticed a man in the crowd; he was dressed in a black suit. Expressionless, the man stood there not interacting with a single person. The two exchanged eye contact briefly and the man disappeared into the crowd. That was creepy, Lain shrugged. Just a curious citizen with an awkward demeanor.

Five weeks prior, a new super virus had surged into existence, claiming the lives of just under seven thousand people worldwide and killing around 200 people in the United States. The CDC, the WHO (World Health Organization) and other various medical agencies around the world did not seem to know the origin of the virus. Some theorized that the virus perhaps originated on the South American continent, because the first recorded cases came from that area. Experts did not even have a name for it and kept referring to it as NSV (Novel Super Virus). They did know the virus had a ten-day incubation period after initial exposure with a sixty-five percent mortality rate. Scientists said there appeared to be several routes of transmission which include vector-borne, direct contact, and fecal-oral. It was classified as a droplet infection, a step down from a full-blown airborne infection. The symptoms start off as the common cold and within several weeks manifest themselves into serious respiratory and cardiovascular disorders, such as pneumonia and heart failure.

Lain had been working on the Senator Dalton piece for a year; therefore, he hadn’t focused much on the new pandemic.

He headed to the airport and took the next red-eye back to Washington, D.C. Senator Dalton’s story had been something Lain worked on for months, but this new virus started to overtake his thoughts.

The disease affected the economy in the United States and abroad. Several industries were taking it in the face, especially the airline industry. The government recently recommended that the airlines temper both international and domestic flights due to the accelerated spread of the virus. The few people traveling wore masks, keeping a healthy distance from one another through a relatively empty airport. The TSA, as well as various medical professionals, stopped Lain as he left the gate. They asked a series of questions to the small line of people trying to retrieve their luggage.

Where was your last destination? Did you by any chance encounter anyone experiencing flu-like symptoms? Have you been experiencing any of these symptoms? If by some chance you do experience these same symptoms please contact this number, the medical personnel instructed, followed by slipping everyone a card with a hotline. Following the questions, they administered a check for fever, holding a device near the forehead of each passenger.

Over the last couple of weeks, the virus had spread quicker than most anticipated leaving the U.S. government grossly ill-prepared and causing huge shortages within the medical community supply chain. A shortage in virus testing left people vulnerable to the infection; they did not know they were infected because the virus had a ten-day asymptomatic period.

***

Following a two-hour flight back to D.C., Lain caught an Uber back home. What a stressful yet victorious trip that was, he thought as he entered his apartment. Needing a stiff drink, Lain’s next stop would be the kitchen to pour a tall glass of bourbon. While taking a few large gulps of his drink of choice, Lain listened to the voice mail on his apartment land-line. An unsettling message from his mother popped up. He called her back right away, because the two of them talked regularly.

Mom, I got the message. What’s going on? Is everything all right with you guys? Lain asked.

I’m fine, but it’s your father. He’s sick and he isn’t getting better. He started not feeling well several days ago and we thought he just had a cold but, I’m starting to get a little concerned, said Lain’s mother, Sandra.

Well, it’s only been a couple of days, right?

Yes.

It’s probably nothing. I’ll tell you what, I’ll come over and see you guys and check on pop in the morning before I go to work. Does that sound good?

All right, I’ll be here. Did you just get in?

Yeah, I just got back from Florida on business.

You must be tired. Get some rest and I’ll see you in the morning.

Okay ma, take care of pop and I’ll see you bright and early.

Lain and his mother paused briefly before they hung up the phone. Shit, just another brick laid on the preverbal pyramid of paranoia, he thought.

Following the news, Lain opened the envelope Lexi Remington had given him. He found a flash drive inside of it. On the inside of the envelope was a note, reading; Confidential, for your eyes only.

Lain slipped the flash drive into his computer and started to watch one of the videos saved on it. The monitor showed two of Senator Dalton’s bodyguards and one of his advisors inside a hotel room. Senator Dalton made an appearance halfway into the video.

Did you take care of that problem? the Senator asked Dick Valentino, a close advisor.

It’s all taken care of, Valentino responded.

Both districts?

Yes, it took some convincing.

And about fifty large for both Barret and Lennox, one of the guards chimed in, referring to representatives from two Florida districts.

Well, this goes to show you everyone’s got their price no matter how much of a hard case they are, the senator said.

Yes sir, Valentino agreed.

I want you to keep an eye on both those liabilities, understand, the senator ordered his advisor.

Re-elected six months before, Senator Dalton already had a shady past with multiple indictments of trader fraud, violating SEC regulations, and bribing judges for fellow politicians. Having vast political influence, the senator ended up walking based on legal technicalities. The public had grown tired of Senator Dalton’s antics, even though he had never been convicted. With his approval ratings tanking, the senator had needed an edge during the previous election. That edge showed up at the polls when his team manipulated and tampered with the voting machines, thus committing electoral fraud. The fraud was never revealed, so the plan worked like a charm for the senator and his team. He squeaked by his primary opposition and won the general election by a narrow margin.

Got you, you son of a bitch! Lain said out loud.

CHAPTER TWO

Surgical mask and glove sales are on the rise as the novel super virus claims a hundred more lives here in the states and doesn’t seem to be letting up. Throughout this crisis, we’ve seen both the good and the bad. The bad occurred when some of the medical equipment suppliers took advantage of the situation and drastically marked up their merchandise, committing price gouging. Some health-care officials fear that because of these occurrences it might lead to some serious shortages in PPE, or Personal Protective Equipment. However, the CDC, the World Health Organization, and other medical agencies across the globe are on the case and hope to have this bug contained here soon. For now, everyone needs to take proper precautions when going out in public until this thing is gone, which includes washing your hands and maintaining communal distancing from fellow citizens. Matt Frankel, WGN-TV, Chicago.

Near the ten-clock hour at the Peachtree Laboratories in American University Park, a section of Washington D.C., Dr. Karl Albertson sat on a stool gazing into an electron microscope. A world-renowned scientist for his studies on infectious diseases, Dr. Albertson had been a student of Immunology for two decades. Since the first cases of the novel super virus emerged, medical experts at the CDC handpicked Dr. Albertson to assist them on a mitigation/testing/contact-tracing plan, as well as a vaccine.

On a slide, Dr. Albertson studied the interaction of the novel super virus strain and a healthy cell. He looked closely through his lens at various effects the intruding virus had on the host cell.

A fellow scientist, Dr. Richard Martin, walked into the lab room and brushed by Dr. Albertson.

Still got your nose to the grindstone? Dr. Martin commented.

Yes, this disease isn’t going to cure itself, Dr. Albertson replied.

I flushed out those last two strains you mentioned, Dr. Martin said.

Good, now we can move on, Dr. Albertson said still focused on the lens of his microscope.

See anything good there? Dr. Martin asked.

Yes, it’s quite fascinating.

Dr. Martin looks at his watch. It’s getting late, Karl. Maybe we should pack up tonight and start fresh in the morning?

You can go ahead. I’m going to stay a while.

Very well then … I’ll lock up everything else.

Dr. Albertson switched slides on the base of the microscope using the same case study. He pulled out a recorder from his desk drawer and pressed play.

This is Dr. Karl Albertson on April 13, 2019, at 10:30 pm. I reviewed three more subjects alone today and like all the others I found more traces of a rare type of arsenic. I have five more case studies to do by tomorrow and the disease seems to ––.

The doctor’s phone rang. He stopped the recording and picked up his phone. Dr. Albertson here.

Times running out doctor. We’re going to need an answer from you. a mysterious voice said on the other end of the line.

I told you not to call me anymore … If you don’t leave me alone, I’ll go to the police! Do you hear me? Dr. Albertson said.

The mystery man hung up, leaving Dr. Albertson talking to himself. In a fit of rage, he slammed the phone down.

Just before he left, Dr. Albertson stuffed the recorder and a notebook inside a compartment in the bottom drawer of his desk.

Dr. Albertson stepped out of the elevator into the laboratory parking garage. He paused for a few seconds, glancing around the dim garage.

The doctor’s dress loafers click-clacked on the concrete with every step. Dr. Albertson could hear a patter-patter sound nearby, so he stopped walking and looked around.

The patter-patter sound closed in as Dr. Albertson’s turned his walk into a full-out sprint. He pulled his car key out of his pocket but fumbled it onto the ground below the car door. He bent over and picked the key up. A man appeared out of the darkness startling Dr. Albertson. He gathered himself and re-focused on the man’s face who, ended up belonging to Ronald Delf, the head custodian for the lab.

Jesus! Dr. Albertson said, relieved.

Sorry I scared you doctor, Ronald said.

That’s okay Ronald, is there anything I can help you with?

Ronald pulled a set of keys from his pocket and held it up. I saw you coming out of your office and I noticed you dropped these.

Ah, yes, I definitely need these. Thanks, Ronald, I appreciate this. I’ll see you tomorrow then, Ronald.

Be safe, doctor.

Dr. Albertson drove out of the garage keeping his eyes peeled in front of him and in the rearview mirror. Several blocks away, Dr. Albertson stopped at an intersection for a red light. Without a soul in sight at the intersection Dr. Albertson began to tap his fingers on the steering wheel. He once again glanced in the rearview mirror. The light turned green and the doctor slammed the accelerator to the floor, racing through the intersection. Suddenly, his car began to stall. Dr. Albertson pulled his dying car to the curb. He tried to re-start his car, but it wouldn’t turn over.

The streets were empty. Dr. Albertson took out his cell phone and started to dial. Just as he put his cell phone to his ear, the doctor noticed a man dressed in a dark suit standing across the street. Dr. Albertson slowly lowered his phone as the Triple-A dispatcher answered.

The doctor sat there frozen making eye contact with the man.

Dr. Albertson exited the car and ran down the street in the opposite direction. He cut through an adjacent street to a nearby park.

Dr. Albertson found a line of tall bushes inside the park. Hiding behind one of the bushes, Dr. Albertson kneeled. The mystery man walked up to the bushes. Several feet away from the bush Dr. Albertson hid behind, another man dressed in similar attire walked up to the mystery man. The two conversed briefly and split up.

Dr. Albertson waited a minute, stood up and slowly stepped out of the bushes. Seeing no sign of the men, the doctor made a run for it.

Coming upon a clearing in the park, Dr. Albertson pulled out his cell phone. He stopped for a brief second to dial. The mystery man blindsided the doctor. He and his phone hit the ground. The doctor looked up at the pursuer standing over him. The mystery man extended his foot and stepped on the cell phone, crushing it.

You don’t need to do that, doctor. And there’s no need to run from us, the man said.

Dr. Albertson planted his hands on the ground and scooted backward.

We’re not here to hurt you, but it’s entirely up to you whether or not that stands, the man reiterated.

What do you mean? Who are you? Why do you keep harassing me? Dr. Albertson asked.

Who we are is not your concern at this point. My organization has your best interests in hand, especially if you cooperate with us, the man said.

What do you want from me?

You stumbled on to something regarding the research involving the novel super virus. We just need to know that you will not go public with your recent findings.

Well, I have no idea what you’re talking about. And what I find is no one’s business outside the lab. I don’t care who you say you’re with.

Again doctor, it would be in your best interest to tell us what you know; otherwise my organization will be forced to take action. It won’t end well for you if that happens.

The mystery man’s partner came walking up from behind. If you have something to tell us, then you can reach my organization at this number. The second man pulled a card out from his wallet and dropped at the feet of Dr. Albertson. And if I were you, I would think twice about going to the authorities. Just remember that our organization has far reaches and can get to you at any time. The mystery man and his partner walked away.

***

The next morning, Lain set out to his parent’s house in North Bethesda, a town away.

His mother, Sandra, greeted him at the front door.

I heard your car pull up, Sandra said.

Did you get any sleep last night?

Some.

And pop, how’s he doing today?

The same, Sandra said as she opened the door, letting Lain inside the house.

Lain followed his mother down a hallway. It was a dark beige color with old pictures of the family decorating the walls of the hallway and leading to Lain’s old room and his parent’s room at the end.

Lain and his mother walked into the master bedroom. Talbert, Lain’s father, lay on the bed which appeared not to have been made in days. His eyes were cracked open a hair. Talbert gingerly turned his head toward Lain, displaying morning residue around the corner of his eyes. He looked tired and sleep-deprived.

Lain reached out his hand. Hey, pop. How are you feeling?

I’ve seen better days, but it’ll pass, and I’ll be as good as new in a couple of days.

Well, I want you to take care of yourself and not push it. That includes refraining from rearranging that dingy tool shop you have out back, okay? No heavy work.

Yes, doctor. I can’t say I’ll listen, but I’ll certainly try, Talbert said, winking at Lain.

No, I’m serious pop. There’s a bug going around out there and why chance it?

Understood … I’ll be sure to take it easy.

Lain stopped his mother on the way out of the house.

Make sure he gets plenty of rest. If he doesn’t seem to be improving, I don’t want you waiting. You take him to the hospital. I don’t care what he says.

How are you doing? I haven’t seen you in a while, Sandra asked.

Yeah, I’ve meant to come to visit you guys, but work has been crazy. Again, I want you to keep me updated.

I will.

***

Nearing the epicenter of the D.C. business district, on the outskirts Lain passed clusters of people who flooded a hospital parking lot that had been turned into a triage. A mixture of what appeared to be sick and well people blended together. The common denominator of this group happened to be their ethnicity, primarily African Americans and Latinos. Same old story, different crisis, he thought.

Lain turned down South Dakota Avenue NE which took him straight to his office at the Washington Times.

He walked out of the elevator and strolled down the hallway leading him to a chaotic newspaper office. Since the initial outbreak of the virus, it had been the top story everywhere.

Lain went to his desk and began to work on the Senator Dalton case.

Garry Shults spotted Lain from across the room and approached his desk.

When did you get back? Garry asked Lain.

Late last night.

Did your source come through? Garry asked referring to Lexi.

Yeah, I think I have this asshole nailed. I haven’t got a chance to watch all the videos but there’s some juicy stuff I’ve seen so far.

Yeah, well you better watch your ass on this one. The senator is a vindictive fuck.

Thanks for the tip. Lain looked around the office and all TV screens were focused on the pandemic. Looks like everyone’s at DEFCON One around here?

With this new bug going around, can you blame them?

Just as Lain became settled his agent, Fred Capstony, called.

I received a call from the Tanner Augusta Show and he said he wanted to book you a spot in his line-up as early as this week, Fred said over the phone to Lain.

We haven’t even broke the story about Senator Dalton and he already wants me on, Lain commented.

Well, I sort of mentioned to his producer that you had gone down to Miami to follow up on your source and you were close to getting everything you needed to nail the senator.

Jesus, Fred, how many times have I told you not to prematurely commit to anything before I put the story together?

I’m sorry babe, but I see an opportunity for you and I just go with it. That’s what I do. Besides you’ve been in a little bit of a slump lately and you can use the exposure.

This Senator Dalton piece has taken a little longer than I expected but I would hardly call that a slump!

Okay, babe. No need to get defensive. I’m just looking out for you.

Yeah, I get it, Fred, but sometimes you try a little too hard … Listen, I’m close on this and the story will be done soon enough but I still have to compile everything my source gave me before it’s a go.

Ten years earlier, a man terrorized the eastern seaboard by planting bombs in heavily populated areas such as parks, shopping, malls, and even sporting stadiums. Much like the Unabomber, this man eventually became known as the East Coast Bomber and managed to elude the authorities for years. At the time Lain worked for The Washington Post and they assigned him to investigate the story. Four years into his reign of terror, the East Coast Bomber blew up a food vendor station inside a sporting arena in Atlanta, killing twenty-four people. Hot on the Bomber’s tail, Lain managed to be the first journalist at the scene of the incident. The story Lain broke at the sporting arena explosion made international headlines and he went on to win the Pulitzer Prize. This caught the attention of an old acquaintance, Fred Capstony.

CHAPTER THREE

As the death toll and number of cases rise, food banks around the country begin to ramp up their supply as the demand rises. More and more people are losing their jobs and need to feed their families as a result of significant shutdowns in certain industries that are deemed to be non-essential. I’m standing behind a food bank in Wichita, Kansas where there has been an astronomically long line of cars desperately waiting to get their food. These lines have been the norm here for about two weeks now and don’t seem to be letting up either here or in many other places throughout the country as this pandemic accelerates, Price Woods of Newsweek.

In the town of Brentwood, a Northeast slum of D.C., two policemen sat patiently inside a room in a small apartment above a convenience store at the corner of 14th Street NE staking out a den of a drug kingpin. One of them, Roland Dalbey, was a tall stocky black man who had been a twenty-five-year veteran of the MPD or MPDC, the Metropolitan Police Department of the District of Columbia. Roland had been a part of the Investigative Service Bureau of the MPD for the past eleven years.

Roland sat beside his partner Jake Reese, a twenty-year police veteran. Jake lifted a pair of binoculars to his pitted, pale white face. He peeked at a dilapidated building across the street from where he and Roland were rooted. The building housed one of D.C.’s notorious drug kingpins, Nazar Kuzma, a Ukrainian immigrant who had come to power within the last five years with the support of the Russian Mafia.

Roland looked at his watch. Five minutes until show-time.

Jake pulled out a hand-held radio and lifted it to his mouth. The package should be here in approximately five minutes. Get your team ready, Jake over the radio to the SWAT team.

Roger. We’ll be ready, the SWAT team lead replied.

Five minutes came and went, with no sign of the shipment; vehicles passed by Nazar’s building with no interaction.

Roland’s cell rang. Yeah, what is it?

Make sure your people stay out of sight until the shipment shows. Nazar sent some of his people outside to comb the neighborhood for heat, an informant pointed out to