Risk: When Doing the Right Thing Is the Only Thing

By W. M. Neuman

It had been eight years since Paul Cambridge walked out of the jungle and away from his old life with the government. Now as a hospital chaplain in search of redemption, Paul risks being pulled back into that old life when a mysterious John Doe suddenly turns violent. Hearing the next morning that John had been found dead, Paul wonders if there is more to this patients catatonic rhymes of Prof, you have to stop them and Have to protect Katie. Searching for the truth, Paul follows the clue that Katie is somewhere in the hospital. Running into his old CIA handler, Chris ONeil, Paul learns that not only are they after the same woman but also that the groups Chris has been tracking might be the people behind the threat that the two patients uncovered. Revealing some of what he knows to Paul about the groups, Chris can only describe them as a live version of the board game Risk. Paul is now forced to make a decision. Does he risk sliding back into his old life to protect Katie, or does he walk away?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Apr 29, 2014
• ISBN: 9781493123742

Book preview

RISK

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When Doing the

Right Thing Is the Only Thing

W. M. NEUMAN

Copyright © 2014 by W. M. Neuman.

Library of Congress Control Number:     2013919631

ISBN:                  Hardcover                        978-1-4931-2373-5

                            Softcover                          978-1-4931-2372-8

                            eBook                               978-1-4931-2374-2

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Front cover image: American City Skyline—Seattle, Copyright © Krzysztof Szkurlatowski at 12frames.eu. Used with permission.

Rev. date: 04/26/2014

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris LLC

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

541586

Contents

Dedication

Acknowledgments

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Dedication

For Mammy, Francis MacIlwinen, the woman who

inspired me to dream again.

I miss our talks.

Acknowledgments

To Kenneth Johnson, who did my initial copyediting; without his help and dedication, I would have been lost. To Dawn Sellers, whose help in developing the story was invaluable. To Mary Margaret, my daughter, whose smile made me wonder if she was telling me the truth, and who found Kenneth. To my parishioners at Good Hope Lutheran, especially Lynn Black, whose comments keep me smiling.

I also want to thank: Krzysztof Szkurlatowski at 12frames.eu, for the use of his Seattle Skyline graphic, and Kenneth Johnson and Xlibris for their great graphic cover design.

Prologue

Sunday, June 23—9:00 p.m. (CST)

T he room was dark except for two desk lamps that lit the individual work areas. At one end, an older-looking gentleman with a two-day growth of beard on his face was bent over a lab table studying the papers he had just spread out. Behind him stood an array of mass spectrometer components and other lab equipment that his college was only able to purchase because of a generous grant bestowed on him by the Food and Drug Administration. His project was one that the FDA would never have considered before 9/11, but since that day, everything was on the table. At the other end of the classroom sat a very attractive woman in her late thirties. When she was not bent over a computer keyboard, her slender figure stood just short of five feet nine inches tall. Her eyes at this point were looking more red than their natural blue the longer she studied the code on three large computer screens surrounding her desk. Running her fingers through her shoulder-length cardinal-red hair, Katie could not decide if what she was looking at was correct or if she had made a programming error.

Brian, it’s getting late. I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to call it quits for the night, Katie said as she pushed her reading glasses up into her hair and looked across the darkened room to where he was standing.

Prof. Brian Simmons was in his early sixties, with short graying hair and reading glasses. He stood a little over six feet tall with an average build for a man of his age. Brian was also a creature of habit while on campus, which meant that he was decked out in his traditional shirt, tie, and white lab coat. He had earned his doctorate in biochemistry from the University of Kansas and had been a full professor in the Science Department at Brighton College in Emporia, Kansas, for almost thirty years. But since 9/11, his strict interest in biochemistry had changed as he began working with the college’s Agricultural Department and the local seed companies. Their concern was the effect of combinations of genetically modified foods on our bodies.

After getting no response from her initial hail, Katie tried again. Oh… Professor Simmons. Earth to Professor Simmons came the melodic tone from across the room.

I can hear you clearly, Brian said with a slight chuckle in his voice. By chance, have you looked over the last data sent from the mass spec and your analysis of it?

Katie’s fingers began to tap across her keyboard in the same way a concert pianist’s fingers float across the ivory keys during a recital. Within seconds, she had the raw data back up on the main screen, while the other two screens cycled through the analyzed data until they stopped at the same point. I have it up now, and the analyzed data is still flashing red. What do you need me to look at?

Looking for the first page of the last printout Katie had given him, Brian replied, I just need you to make sure that the results you are looking at are from the sample sent to me by a former student.

Looking over to Brian, Katie answered, They are. Would you like me to run the compatibility analysis again? It will only take about fifteen minutes to verify the results.

Prof. Katherine Fields—Katie, as she preferred to be called—was the computer genius the college could not believe they had landed when she applied for the faculty position. She could have gone almost anywhere and made ten times the amount that Brighton College could pay her, but as she told the head of the department, money was not the issue; she just wanted to teach. As it turned out, she was able to work in both areas. Katie’s schedule allowed her to do what she loved to do—teach—and her free time offered her the opportunity to freelance her skills to businesses that sought her out. That was until Brian asked for her help three years ago. His grant had come through, and he needed someone to develop a program to analyze the hundreds of possible results for each item he entered. It had been a challenge that Katie could not resist.

Pulling a stool over, Brian answered, Run the analysis again please, because if it’s accurate, we just found what I hoped we would never find.

*     *     *

South America

The old ceiling fan hummed as the blades slowly turned, barely moving the air in the dusty shipping office. Its attempt to cool the man behind the desk was not working, as sweat began to form on his upper lip and on the back of his hands. Weeks ago, he had been given a number to call when a certain shipment was ready to be transported to a specific port. Making the decision to dial the number, he recalled how nervous he had been as he forged all the shipping documents and changed the country of origin sticker. But the money he would receive after the items were gone would be enough for him and his family to disappear.

Slowly dialing the phone number, he waited for someone to answer. Hello came the response after the third ring.

I was told to call this number when the shipment was ready to go.

Good, keep talking, said the voice on the other end.

Your shipment should leave here by Wednesday. Once it has arrived at the port, I have scheduled it to be immediately loaded onto the grain ship you specified. It will then leave for Seattle, Washington, within two days.

There was a pause before the voice spoke again. So it will leave from Ecuador on Monday or Tuesday and arrive in Seattle when?

The ship will leave the port no later than July 2 and is scheduled to be unloaded in Seattle on July 17.

Thank you. The rest of your payment will be in your account as soon as the shipment arrives in Seattle, said the voice, and the line went dead.

Chapter 1

Daytime—Monday, June 24 (CST)

T he midmorning sun filled the classroom as Katie walked over to the lab table and dropped the new printout in front of Brian. The warmth of the sunlight had put a smile on her face when she recalled a young couple enjoying the enchanted summer morning lying under one of the large oak trees on campus. Looking out onto the campus, a hint of envy began to enter Katie’s smile as the scent of lilac brushes in full bloom made its way through the open w indows.

However, if his analysis was correct, then Brian’s discovery would be worth missing these lazy summer mornings. Here are the results again. They are the same as before, and the same as the other three samples we ran before that, Katie said, now looking frustrated after realizing the look on Brian’s face still had not changed. You even swabbed the inside of the box and the outside of the bag for contaminates and found none.

The scientific part of Brian’s mind kept telling him that the results were correct, while the rational part kept saying that those readings could not possibly be correct. No one would either be that stupid or that ruthless to create what he had in front of him. Yet it was that note, the crumpled one from inside the box, the one he had taped to the faucet, that scared him the most. All it read was "Prof, you have to stop them. There was no name on the note or a return address on the box. The only thing Katie had determined from the box was that the stamp was from Uruguay. Beyond that, it was impossible to tell where the sample had started its journey. I just have to make sure before calling Clay," Brian said as he stared at the last test results.

Pulling up a stool, Katie sat on the opposite side of the lab table. She could see the stress written all over his face. Brian, let’s review this scientifically. You’ve run five tests, drawing samples from five different locations in the box. You’ve even tested all the surfaces. There is no mistake. A toxic compound will be formed, if what we found in that box is blended with our GMO grains or corns and heated even to a low temperature… Brian, we need to let the FDA know what you’ve found.

Katie, you don’t understand, Brian interjected It’s not that it creates a toxin that scares me—it is the kind of toxin that it creates that scares me. Walking over to the white board, Brian began diagramming the genetic modifications to the grain. Circling one part, he turned to Katie. It’s this part. This particular splice they made here. If it was not there, Brian said, pointing to it, all you would get would be either a bad stomachache or diarrhea. But when they added this modification, they created a killer that is easily absorbed through the digestive system. But it doesn’t happen all at once. You have to eat a lot of it over time before it becomes lethal. That’s what scares me.

Up to that point, Katie had not really been listening to what Brian was saying about the genetic makeup, for her thoughts had drifted back to being outside in the warm summer sun—that is, until the word lethal brought her back to reality. How could a simple genetically modified grain become lethal? Even though she had learned some biochemistry over the years, she always trusted Brian’s analysis in these matters. As Katie pulled herself back into the conversation, the question that echoed through her mind was How long? How long would it take to become lethal? Katie asked.

This is just an estimate, but depending on the size of the person and how much of it they ate, my rough guess would be… somewhere between six months to a year or longer, Brian said as he saw the look of shock begin to appear on Katie’s face. But who would… , Brian started to say.

That’s the million-dollar question, Katie interjected as a hint of anger entered her voice. Didn’t they know? I can’t believe they didn’t have a clue as to what they were doing. Somebody must have known that these genetic modifications… created a toxic compound that kills over time? Now sitting straight up on her stool and looking angry, Katie said, Isn’t that what we’ve been struggling with? Did they ever stop to think, in the middle of all this, that it would eventually build up and start killing people? Or was it just plain dumb stupid ignorance? Locking her fingers together and placing them on top of her head, Katie stared at the board.

Or was it their plan all along? Brian said, staring at the note taped to his lab table faucet. Pointing to it, he reminded Katie of its message. I’d love to believe it was all a freak accident or a dumb mistake. But this note tells me something different. This grain is designed to create havoc and death.

Looking back at Brian, Katie added, But why do something like this? All it will get you is… banned… All your grains and corns… banned worldwide. Just to kill a few people?

Brian shook his head before answering. That might be the case, except for two things. First, with all these free-trade agreements, most tests are done at the home port before the shipment even leaves the country of origin. If somebody is on their payroll, they just sign off on the shipment. Second, without our friend, nobody on our end would even know there was a problem until people started dying. Much less how to test for it.

They will now, Katie said as she stood up and walked over to Brian, who was busy concentrating on the printout.

In some ways, what they did was ingenious… in an evil way, Brian said as he looked at Katie. Because it only becomes toxic when heated, and the bonding agents activate to shift their modification over to our modification, and in the process, it creates a small amount of toxin. So there is no way to tell if any one batch is toxic.

Staring back, Katie asked in a curious voice, I’m not sure I follow?

Brian put his face in his hands and rubbed his eyes with his fingertips. That’s the beauty of it and its insidiousness. Nothing happens until it is mixed and heated, Brian said as he watched Katie’s expression. Think of mad cow disease as a test run. The only problem was that its root cause was diagnosed too fast. Remember what happened to the farmers, especially in Great Britain.

Yeah, it almost totally destroyed England’s livestock industry, Katie said as she began to understand what Brian was thinking.

Now think what would happen if all our country’s grains and corns were thought to be poisonous? Most of the food supply could not be trusted. Anything that had corn or any type of grain in it would be taken off the shelves. Livestock and livestock feed would have to be destroyed.

A look of fear flashed across Katie’s face as she thought about what would happen next. That could cause a panic and, eventually, riots in the cities and larger towns, especially when stores have only two or three days’ worth of food in their back rooms, if you were able to trust that food.

Standing up, Brian walked over to a bank of windows and looked out onto the campus. Just think of what the shelves look like when a hurricane hits the coast or when a major snowstorm is supposed to hit us.

Panic, martial law, and that’s just for starters. I don’t even want to think of what could happen if the media got a hold of what we’ve discovered. Katie’s voice now echoed the fear in her eyes.

It’s insidious, and in a crazy way, whoever did this is a genius, Brian repeated.

The look in Katie’s eyes now told Brian that she understood the extent of the problem. Shifting her head to one side, Katie said, Think about it: nobody would know that the cause of the problem was the grain or the corn they had been eating over the last twelve months. That the toxin was slowly building up until it became lethal. People would be asymptomatic until it was too late. Katie’s fear began to turn into anger as she looked at the note. Somebody, Katie continued, must have taken a big chance in sending this to you, because if this box had not been sent, there would have been no way to stop their plan. Everything would have fallen into place like a row of dominoes going down.

And that’s not all. Here’s another part I just thought about… Whoever is behind this can stay invisible. Pacing around the room, Brian stopped in front of Katie as a smile began to appear on his face. Maybe… just maybe, we can be the ones to screw up their dominoes before they begin to fall.

Katie thought for a moment before adding, Just think, if we hadn’t discovered this, who knows how long it would have taken for the medical community to figure out what was going on? Pausing, Katie’s eyes widened as a new revelation started to sink in. Then the real problem would appear: where did the ingredients come from? Looking at Brian, who was now standing in front of the white board, the anger in Katie’s voice was palpable How many people would have to die before it was stopped? Thousands… millions… tens of millions?

Turning to Katie, Brian now was sure that she understood both parts of the fallout. The only thing our government could do once they figured things out would be to assume that it came from inside this country and begin shutting down everything. We thought the week after September 11 was bad—this would be at least as horrible and last for months, if not years, Brian said as he walked back over to the windows and looked out in disgust. "How many people will have to suffer because of this… Katie, I don’t know about you, but the only word I can think of right now is evil."

Walking around the lab table, Katie glanced at Brian before focusing her full attention on the note. "I think this time I will agree with you. Evil is a good word to describe what this is. The only question I wish we had the answer to is who is behind this?"

Waving back to a group of summer students who had recognized their professor, Brian said out loud, God, where are You when we need You? Then standing still for what seemed like a long time, Brian finally turned around and looked at Katie. Katie, maybe this is one time that He is actually ahead of us, Brian said as he pointed up.

Walking over to Brian, Katie had been watching her colleague and friend struggle with the magnitude of this threat before pointing her finger up and then at Brian. If there is a God, I think He just might have been watching because who else in this world could have discovered this threat?

T he silence in the room had gone on far too long as Brian slowly tapped his fingers on the lab table and Katie stared out the window. Okay, this is what I want you to do, Brian said, burying his face in his hands. I need you to make two copies of our work on some type of storage chip. The smaller, the better. I’m going to divide the remaining samples in half. What we are going to do is send half of the samples and a copy of all my work and your program to Clay at the FDA so he can verify our findings. The other chip and sample, I want you to hide someplace that is not on campus, and don’t tell me where. Katie could sense the fear in his voice as he added, I just have a bad feeling that whoever wrote that note has been found, which means that they might be coming for me next.

As Katie headed back to her desk, she was already thinking about the almost eight terabytes of hard drive space they had already filled up on the external storage units. Whatever she was going to use, she knew it needed to be small, like an SD card. Arriving at her desk, Katie began to stare at the size of each directory; and within a few minutes, she determined that she would only take the essentials and leave the rest on the external storage units, which she would hide somewhere.

Watching Katie head back to her computers, Brian now turned his mind to his own problem—how to store the remaining sample so that there was no cross contamination from his lab. Eliminating any possibility of contaminating the sample was a priority for Brian, because he knew that if any was found, all his data would be suspect. Even though his situation was not as critical as a murder investigation, Brian had learned from Clay that when it came to Washington politics, there was always someone ready to find fault with your work. Brian’s gut also told him that he could not allow this situation to become one of those times when politics gets in the way; because lives were at stake.

B y midafternoon, Katie was on her way back from Topeka with a dozen high-capacity SD cards, and Brian had placed the sealed samples into plastic-lined boxes so that when they were shipped, the possibility of contamination would be low. It was now time to cal l Clay.

Taking out his cell phone, Brian located Clay’s name; and within seconds, the phone began to ring on the other end. Good afternoon. Thank you for calling the Food and Drug Administration. This is Clay Schweizer’s office. Theresa speaking.

Hello, this is Prof. Brian Simmons. I need to talk with Clay Schweizer immediately. Is he in?

I am sorry Professor. Dr. Schweizer is out of the office this afternoon, but he should be back before he leaves for home tonight. Would you like to leave a message? I can ask him to call you when he gets in.

Yes, please, Brian said and then paused. Theresa, are you new? What happened to Susan?

She was in an auto accident two weeks ago and broke her leg. I am just filling in for a while, Theresa replied. I’m ready to write when you are.

Okay. Tell him that my research has found something that he needs to see. Also, tell him that I will e-mail a copy of my findings later today. He needs to read it and call me back immediately because I leave tomorrow for a conference in Seattle. If not, he won’t be able to get a hold of me until July 3. Please make sure he gets this message. Assuring Brian that he would get the message, she disconnected.

Chapter 2

B y six that evening, Katie had finished making a short DVD about their work, had sealed the boxes, and was now off mailing one box to the FDA, while thinking of a good hiding spot for the other. Brian had also e-mailed the basics of his findings to Clay’s office and was now sitting at home waiting for Clay’ s call.

About two hours later, Brian’s home phone began to ring. The caller ID said blocked. Hello, this is Brian Simmons.

Hello, Professor Simmons. This is Phyllis Lynn. I am the secretary for Professor Hendricks at the University of Washington. He told me that you would know his name.

Yes, I know who Professor Hendricks is. We’ve done peer review on each other’s work over the years.

Dr. Clay Schweizer called him and asked him to contact you. Now, according to his note, I am supposed to tell you that both of you are working in the same area and that Dr. Schweizer wants the two of you to compare notes.

Brian sat up in his recliner, excited. That would be perfect. I was hoping we could finally meet face-to-face one day. In fact, during the first weekend in July, I will be at the University of Seattle for a seminar. Would that work for him?

That would be perfect. He was hoping that you would be out here for that seminar. And since you are coming out here, there is one more thing the professor wanted me to ask you.

Okay.

Would it be possible for you to be here by the third? He knows it’s earlier than you might have planned, but then neither of you would be pressed for time.

Actually, that’s perfect. My plans are to leave for Seattle in the next couple of days, arriving there on the third. Tell him that I will call his office after nine o’clock that morning, and we can set something up, Brian replied. Finally, he thought, someone who might actually understand this threat.

Good-bye and thank you. I will make sure that either Professor Hendricks or I will be here when you call.

As the woman pressed the Disconnect button on her cell phone, another voice called her name. Theresa, what are you doing here at this time of the night? I would have expected you to be home by now, stated the man who had just entered the office carrying a briefcase in one arm and an umbrella under the other.

It’s been a crazy day Dr. Schweizer. I just wanted to make sure you had everything you might need for tomorrow. Theresa answered as she deleted the e-mail she had just read from Professor Simmons. I think I have everything ready, so if you don’t mind, I will be heading home.

Thanks for filling in for Susan. I really appreciate your willingness to help, Clay said as he closed the door to his office.

Standing up, Theresa began to admire her slender five-foot-eight-inch body in the dark office window. Her green eyes were barely visible as she examined her reflection. After straightening her skirt, Theresa adjusted her short light-brown wig ever so slightly. She had never pictured herself playing the executive office secretary, but given the circumstances, it wasn’t half bad. Turning away from the window, Theresa took a sheet of paper from the printer. The sheet only had two words on it—I quit. Making sure not to leave any fingerprints, Theresa folded the paper in half and placed it on top of her desk before heading for the door.

Walking out of the building five minutes later, Theresa pulled a cell phone from her purse and dialed a number. In seconds, she was connected to what sounded like a dead line. I know where the box was sent was all that Theresa said before hitting Disconnect and tossing the phone into a dumpster.

Chapter 3

Tuesday, July 2—3:00 p.m. (EST)

O pening the door to his office, Dr. Clay Schweizer welcomed the two men he had been waiting for all day. As they took their seats around the table, Clay began his tale about a box that had been delivered to his office a week ago. The two men sitting at the table were Alan Meyer, who was a longtime friend from the FBI, and Thomas Gardner, from Homeland Security. Clay had called Alan soon after receiving Brian’s package and reviewing the DVD. But it took until yesterday before the lab could finish reviewing all the computer data and confirm Professor Simmons’s fi ndings.

Alan and Thomas watched the DVD of Professors Simmons and Fields explaining their findings and their hypothesis concerning the possible repercussions if whoever did this was not stopped. Not knowing Tom Gardner, Clay watched to see if he understood what was being explained. Within minutes, Clay realized that whoever this Gardner guy was, he clearly understood what was being said, as he frantically wrote little notes about the professors and the box.

By the end of the DVD, Clay had begun to wonder if Gardner was actually someone from the CIA attached to Homeland Security, and not just a DHS idiot, because his first question concerned the whereabouts of the original box. After being reassured that it had been secured in a main FDA vault, Thomas then turned his attention to Clay’s knowledge of Professor Simmons and his present location. That was when Dr. Schweizer took a deep breath and revealed the fact that they had not been able to contact either professor since receiving the package late on June 26. According to the dean of the Science Department, Dr. Schweizer added, Professor Simmons is scheduled to attend a conference in Seattle beginning on Friday, July 5. However, since he is terrified of flying, this means that he leaves early and drives to every conference. The other bit of information the dean had learned from the department secretary was that according to a note on his calendar, the professor had scheduled his hotel reservations to begin on Wednesday and was planning to meet with a Professor John Hendricks from the University of Washington before the seminar.

Dr. Schweizer took another deep breath before revealing the fact that when he contacted the University of Washington, the department head informed him that Professor Hendricks had been asked to do an emergency consultation in Australia and had left on June 25 and was not scheduled to be back until July 20. Dr. Schweizer concluded his statement by saying, I made that call on June 27. I am afraid that the people behind all of this may have traced the sample back to our two professors.

Standing up and grabbing his notes, Thomas Gardner looked at the two men. I have people in both areas. We will find him. With that, Thomas turned and headed for the door.

Chapter 4

Wednesday, July 3—7:00 a.m. (PST)

A s a Gulfstream G650 pulls into its secluded hangar at the southwest end of Snohomish County Airport, two rather husky gentlemen dressed in dark suits snap to attention. They had been waiting two hours for the occupant of this Gulfstream to arrive. Spotting a rather tall slender woman with light blonde hair and green eyes step through the doorway, they signal the person in the backseat. Walking toward her modified black Lincoln Navigator, she signals one of the men to open the rear door, while the other man tries to bring her up to date concerning their ongoing operations. Taking her seat in the back of the SUV, the gentleman who had been reading from a sheet of paper places it back in its folder and hands it to Theresa along with the rest of the information she had requested. After closing the door, Theresa signals the driver that she is ready.

Turning right onto Mukilteo Speedway, the black Navigator heads north onto the Boeing Freeway and eventually to the interstate. In the relative silence of the vehicle, Theresa starts to read through the dossier. Then after putting it back in its folder and tucking it into her notebook, Theresa is now ready to look over at the man sitting next to her. Good morning Arthur. Do we know anything more about who might have sent the samples to the professor?

"No, but the ranch boss already has a number of teams going over all the employment records. If