Page 17 of Radar (Iniquus Certified Cerberus Tactical K9 #2)

Xander

Thursday

Washington, D.C.

Another ping dropped into Xander’s messages. This one was from Dremonte Long, Bill York’s handler, with a desk at Langley.

Long: Moved York to private room. When you get to the hospital come up to 569.

Xander tapped the call button. “Long, you safe to speak?”

“Yeah. Where are you now?”

“I left Iniquus as soon as the text message started dropping. I’m merging onto the highway now, heading to the hospital. I don’t have a good ETA because of traffic, but I’m not far out.”

“You’re coming from Iniquus? Who was with you at the meeting besides White?” Long asked.

“Adele was there. She went running out as soon as the messages came in about York. She said she’s checking on something with her team and will be in touch. My superior, Hiro, was there, along with Finley, FBI Joint Task Force. We were settling into the meeting but hadn’t gotten far.”

“I’ve been in touch with Finley,” Long said. “He’s heading to the Hoover Building now to handle York’s effects.”

“Have you got a tail on Orest Kalinsky?” Xander asked.

“Yeah, we do. He’s at the women’s prison, having a family reunion.

It makes it harder that they’re speaking in Slovak, but our interpreters will give us a readout and their impressions by end of day.

Like any good crime family, they’re well-practiced in talking about nothing while the real message is sewn between the lines.

We’ll do our best with that and get the report to the stakeholders, including Adele. ”

“Good. And York? What are the doctors saying happened to him?” Xander jerked his wheel to get around a car that came to an inexplicable stop in the middle of the road. His wheels hummed on the pavement designed to keep drivers from falling asleep.

When the cacophony stopped, Long said, “Doctors are running tests. Those of us involved think it’s probable that Orest Kalinsky knew York was following him.

York started having issues on the plane over the Atlantic.

He’d sent us a series of texts, and we met at the plane with our toxicologists to find out if somehow Orest had been able to get the Zoric neurotoxins close to York. ”

“Was anyone else on the plane having symptoms? How about the people sitting near him?” Xander asked as he pressed the gas down and weaved through the traffic.

“No one complained of anything, and we made sure that the paramedics interviewed them before they took off for their connecting flights, asking about heart palpitations or breathing issues.”

“But no pathologist report yet on York?” Xander asked, thinking of Nutsbe and how Anna’s letter gave him some kind of reprieve. Finley had said, “Looking over your shoulder every second of every day for a Russian shadow to pop out at you is hell.” Wasn’t that the damned truth?

“Nothing yet,” Long said. “We had to keep this on the downlow. The hospital was counseled that York owns a coral fish tank and might have had a palytoxin exposure, not that they knew what that was. I think a lot of Google searches went on as I left the room. The nurses were in full PPE when they scrubbed York down. They took blood, we took blood. ‘We’ being the FBI tech who Finley sent over. I don’t touch blood.

York’s clothes and effects were all put in hazard bags.

I’m waiting on someone from Foggy Bottom to show up and take them to their lab.

Knowing the neurotoxins have a short shelf life, Finley is meeting the special agents at Hoover, and he’s going to go impress upon them the urgency of the case.

He’s hoping to move it into the number one slot. ”

“No one’s going to find anything in York’s blood if Orest poisoned him over the Atlantic. The half-life is too short. It does its damage and disappears. It’s worth a try, but it’s not a rule-in, rule-out.”

“If it were easily identified, we’d have Orest Kalinsky face down with his hands cuffed behind his back instead of checking into his five-star this morning. Regardless, the medical staff is prepping the O.R. for emergency open heart surgery.”

“Is York responsive?” Xander asked.

“He’s aware. He’s focused on breathing right now. I’m standing in an empty hall. The staff know they aren’t allowed into York’s room unaccompanied. As close as we are to the Capitol, this cloak-and-dagger shit isn’t unfamiliar to them.”

“He can’t be left alone with what’s in his head,” Xander said, tapping on his blinker and sliding toward the exit.

“Nope, we can’t have him muttering State secrets to the orderlies.

I’m on duty for now. I want to be a friendly, familiar face for him.

But as he’s getting better, we can send some paper pushers over to hold his hand, which I think he’ll prefer, leaving him to fart in peace.

My understanding is that you were meeting with York for a handoff of Kalinsky? ”

Xander stomped down hard on his brakes to keep from hitting the biker, who swerved out of the way of the person getting out of their car, in what could have been an escalation of bad outcomes if his brakes hadn't been as responsive. “I was advised to meet with York and be ready to accept the baton if he wanted to pass it. But neurotoxins, man, I need to think this gig through.” Xander swung his head to check his mirrors as he popped his turn signal on, then slid into the hospital lot. “I’m here. I’m finding a parking space. I’ll be with you in a beat.”

***

Xander tapped on the door, then stuck his head in, sweeping the room. The bed was gone. Long sat in the blue Naugahyde guest chair, looking shell-shocked.

Xander’s skin prickled with cold.

“He coded,” Long said. “Damned violent what they do to bring a person back. Then they grabbed hold of his bed and raced him toward the surgical wing.”

“Well, shit.” Xander shut the door behind him, then stepped farther in so he could talk in low tones. “Where are we? What do we know? You said York sent you some texts?”

Long pulled his phone from his pocket and opened the messages before handing it off to Xander.

York: I feel like I might be dying. Get an ambulance in place. Tell the docs about the Zoric secret sauce. This came on too suddenly. I may be getting up there in age, but I passed my physicals with flying colors.

York: If not me, and it’s not going to be me, someone needs to follow this son of a bitch and see what he’s up to.

York: Here’s what I know about his itinerary. Arrived on my flight. Day in D.C. paying his respects to the jailbird side of the family. Heading to Alaska to see his puppy dogs—D.C. Newark flight XVC 921 Newark Fairbanks KNP 783

York: Things are stirred up. Channels popping. Zorics leaving their houses. Too many of them are leaving their houses and heading in different directions. Their biggest muscles are heading west, the rest of the family is heading east to island.

York: I swear these goddammed Zorics.

York: I don’t think I’m going to make it back to the U.S.

York: This might be it, my friend. Thank you for our years. Love to all.

“Jeezis.” Xander ran through the texts one more time, then handed the phone back to Long.

Long spread his feet wider and leaned his forearms onto his thighs. “Yeah, it was a kick in the nuts. I still feel like puking.”

“And the doctors said?”

“If it’s his heart and nothing else,” Long said, “that would be one thing. If it’s the neurotoxins, there’s zero the doctors can do. Palytoxins are a survival coin toss. I’m not giving up hope that this is a good old-fashioned blocked artery.”

Xander leaned his head against the wall and stared at the metal structure that held the ceiling tiles. He stood there in suspension without a thought beyond the gray cloud that filled his mind.

A knock sounded tentatively, then a head poked in. “Sir?”

“Hey, come on in.” Long stood and picked up the bags. “You have a partner?”

“In the hall.”

“These go to the labs, Code Orange. Do you understand me?” He tapped a bag with his index finger. “You protect this one with your life. You get to the lab straight as an arrow. Special Agent Steve Finley, terror—do you hear me?—Steve Finley, terror, will be waiting for you.”

The guy audibly gulped as he bobbed his head.

“Finley will take charge of the clothing,” Long said. “The contents of the phone and laptop are priority one. I need a full duplicate, and a printout will be on my desk by evening. You will stand there and glare at the investigation team and make it happen.”

“Yes, sir.” The man blanched as York signed the chain of custody paperwork. Tucking that away, he took control of the bags, then he turned on his heels and hightailed it out of the room.

“Everything?” Xander asked.

“That computer is new and only has information about York’s Orest mission. I’m looking for clues beyond the Zorics are swarming out of the nest.”

“Anna Senko said they’re heading to Singapore,” Xander said, shoving his hands into his pockets and pressing a shoulder into the wall.

“York said island. That’s not an island. Why are they moving?”

“Medved’ Zoric took over William Davidson’s island, Davidson Realm, and now has a fallout shelter for three hundred over the long term, read that as years to decades.

Singapore is close enough to ferry the family to the private island in the Indian Ocean.

” Xander took a moment to explain the importance of William Davidson’s setup on Davidson Realm and how Medved’ took it over.

“Goddammed Zorics.” Long swiped his hand over his face. “Did Anna have any other insights?”

“She received an invitation to Survival Island. They’re supposed to get there this week.”

“Like rats jumping the ship before Armageddon.” Long blinked and brought his attention back to Xander. “We only have a handful of people working across the agencies on the Zoric problem. We’re going to be running on all cylinders. What’s your next move?”

“Me? I’m getting my dog, Radar, from Cerberus and packing our snow boots. Friday morning, I guess I’m heading to Alaska to see what Orest Kalinsky is up to.”