Chapter 43

Josh pulled out his phone.After ensuring the encryption was active, he dialed Dixon. Before he could utter a word, Dixon got in first.

"Doc. Please, tell me you've got something."

"I don't even get a ‘Hi, honey?'" Josh teased. Not that he was in a teasing mood, but right then, he needed to do something to bring a little light into his dark world. He couldn't wait for this nightmare to be over—and have Dixon back where he belonged. "And yeah, I do have something, but it's not good. In fact, it's probably one of the worst things I could tell you."

Dixon rumbled out a sigh. "Of course it is. God forbid we get a break, right?" he paused. "Okay, shoot."

Josh ran through what Kathy had told them. When he finished, Dixon growled. "Just so we're clear… putting a bullet in Spencer's brain is a bad thing, right?"

"I wouldn't say it was bad, but it doesn't help clear me." God, it was tempting, though.

"I saw Grady this morning, by the way. He looks like shit. And considering what you just told me, he asked an interesting question."

"Oh?"

"He wanted to know if we'd heard anything on the grapevine about some threat."

Josh stilled. "Now that is interesting. Has Grady heard something?"

"He told me his source at the news station called and asked about a threat, but Grady knew nothing about it. So he called Chalmers, who said he hadn't been told anything either." Dixon paused. "You wanna hear the best part? Apparently Spencer has called for a news conference tomorrow where he's going to tell everyone about the attack he says is coming."

"Tomorrow?" Panic bubbled up from someplace deep. Fuck.

"I'm sorry, but that makes no sense. Why would Spencer warn people before an attack? Surely his MO was to sweep in and save the day."

Josh thought fast. "What about Chalmers? What's he doing about this?"

Dixon let out another sigh. "He's sitting by his boss's bedside, waiting for him to wake up. He's worn himself out, jumping at every little twitch of the man's body."

"Carson's still out of it?" Josh groaned. "Damn it. His word would go a long way, but if he's not awake yet…." It was time to do something. "Well, if I have to take one for the team?—"

"You shut it," Dixon interjected. "You are not going down for this. In fact…. Hold on." He fell silent, and Josh wondered what the hell he was doing. Then Dixon was back. "Doc, you still there?"

"Yeah."

"I have Chalmers on the line. I gave him the down and dirty on what you told me."

"Hey, Josh." Chalmers's voice was heavy with fatigue. "I'm sorry I haven't been there, but?—"

"It's fine," Josh told him. "He's your boss and your friend. That's where you should be."

"Friend. Sure. Anyway, I'm with Dixon on this. Shooting Spencer sounds like a really great idea."

Josh rolled his eyes. "And again, much as I love that idea, it still doesn't solve the long-term problem."

"True, but it would make us all feel so much better."

Despite his clenched stomach, Josh had to smile at that. "How's Carson doing?"

Chalmers sighed. "Doctors say he should have woken up by now. They're not sure what the problem is, but they're doing all kinds of tests. Our bosses are demanding to know what the hell happened, but I can't give them anything without solid proof. Right now, every single thing we have is hearsay and supposition."

"So we're fucked," Dixon snapped. "Is that what you're telling me?"

"I don't know what the fuck I'm telling you!" Chalmers snarled. "It's not like I can shake him and make him wake up."

"Maybe if you shut the fuck up, I might be able to get some sleep," an unknown voice cut in.

"Director Carson?" Chalmers gasped. "Oh my God, sir, you have no clue how happy I am to see you conscious. Let me call the doctors."

"In a minute. I need answers first."

Josh's heart hammered. Maybe this was just the break they needed.

"My wife and kids," Carson continued. "Tell me they're okay."

"They are, sir. They're at CrossBow," Chalmers told him.

"Good. I owe them for getting everyone out safely."

"You could pay us back now, sir," Josh said quickly.

"You Malone?"

"Yes, sir."

There was a pause. "Tell me what you need." His voice was ragged and cracked at the last word.

Josh wished he could let the man rest and recuperate, but with Dixon's news, things had moved to DEFCON 1. He went through the story again, speaking in a slow, concise tone. "Did you ever deal directly with Spencer?"

"No, I never saw him, but I did hear his name. And that's not enough to arrest him."

"But we have his assistant, and God knows how many files of his." That had to be enough to convince someone in authority, right?

He paused. "You say he's going to attack Chicago? Ballsy move."

"We're expecting a press conference tomorrow."

"Then we don't have a lot of time. Chalmers, call Brady over at the Times. He owes me big, and it's time to collect."

"On it, sir."

Carson's racking cough filled the air. "We're going to take this fucker down."

Josh's heart sank. "Easier said than done. I've been through the files you sent, but there's one I can't access."

Carson gave a husky chuckle. "The password-protected one? Try Rosebud91941. That should let you in."

Josh frowned. "Rosebud? That's a sled, right? From Citizen Kane?"

"And 91941 is the month and year it came out. I'm an old movie buff, much to my wife's chagrin."

"I used to watch them with my grandma," Josh said. "I miss those times. If you ever need someone to sit with you, I'd be down."

"You have yourself a deal."

Josh turned to his laptop and typed in what Carson had said. He could have wept for joy when the file opened. "Sir, you are a lifesaver."

"And you call yourself a hacker," Carson teased.

Josh's cheeks were on fire. "Sorry, I'm out of practice by more than a few years."

"Yeah, that would be a problem. Shit changes so quickly. Once we get through this, we'll see about bringing your skills up to snuff."

It heartened Josh that he said when, not if. And as forgetting his skills back to par? That would work perfectly for what he'd said to Gary about a new direction for him. "Thank you again."

"No, thank you all. My family means everything to me. They were threatened, and I had no one I could turn to. You all saved us, and I will never be able to repay that debt."

Josh could understand that. "Sir, you help us take down Spencer and I promise, it'll be us who owes you. Besides, I think I also owe you for the fact that the FBI hasn't been breaking down CrossBow's door to drag me away. This ‘taskforce' Spencer said had been organized to find me and take me in?"

Carson huffed. "Nothing to do with me," he replied. "I've been… out of the loop since they grabbed me and forced me to decrypt FBI files for them. Of course, I was having so many problems, none of them got done. That's why they were so pissed at me. Anyway, Chalmers will have to bring me up to speed. If I had to guess, I don't think Spencer wants to bring you in just yet. He wants it to be a public spectacle, probably as they wheel your body into the hospital, so he can tell people they removed the threat. I don't buy it, and I'm sure others don't. You may be many things, Dr. Malone, but a mass murderer you are not."

"And now that you have access, I'm gonna get off the line and let you do your stuff," Dixon told him.

"But if—when—you find something, let us know?" Carson added. "Because for what I have in mind, we're going to need ammunition, as much as you can give me."

"I'll call the minute I have something," Josh promised.

"You've got less than twenty-four hours," Carson reminded him. He gave a raw chuckle. "I've always wanted to say that."

"Doc? Go be my genius," Dixon said in a warm voice. "And when you have news, call me too." He said goodbye and ended the call.

Josh went to work, opening up the files and searching for the one he hoped would provide them with the help they so badly needed. He was grateful for the password, because it opened up a whole new.... Wait. He widened his eyes as an entire trove of files was opened for him. Carson was damn good, and Josh hoped he could learn from the man.

"So what's in there?" Gary got up from the couch and came over to him.

Josh scrolled through the documents in the folder. "There are several files in here that might prove useful." He chuckled. "This one is titled CHICAGO. You think that might be of interest?" He clicked on it, and the breath died in his throat. "Oh my God. Carson really is a genius."

"You've found something?"

Josh grinned, lighter than he'd felt in a long while. "Not just something—I've hit the motherlode. The jackpot. This is nothing short of dynamite."

Gary peered over his shoulder, and his gasp filled Josh's ear. "Holy fuck, jackpot is right." He pointed to the text. "Look at that part there."

"I know. Let me see if the other docs are similar." He opened the file titled STUTTON, and laughed out loud. "Oh, Mr. Spencer. You are going to rue the day you tried to mess with me." He glanced at Gary. "Make the call. Tell Carson we're going to email him some very important documents." He couldn't stop smiling. "Lord, I wish I could be a fly on the wall when all this comes out. Just to see Spencer's face."

"You are not going anywhere near that press conference, you hear me?"

He snorted. "Are you kidding? Dixon would cut off my balls and give them to Coby to play with. I'll have to content myself with watching it on TV. Because we know Spencer loves the cameras, right?"

There was light at the end of the tunnel.

Finally.

Josh could hardly sit stillas the hour approached for the press conference. The TV screen showed the large room at the National Press Club in DC, filled to capacity. Behind the rows and rows of chairs, every one of them occupied, was a huge bank of cameras, and aides stood at every side, armed with mics for questions from the journalists. At the front of the room was a lectern with a teleprompter and mic, standing between two bronze pillars, an American flag on each side of the stage. Behind the lectern was a white screen.

"Carson said we need to watch when it gets to question time." Gary chuckled. "Why do I have the urge to make popcorn?"

Josh didn't look away from the screen. "If you do, I like mine with butter."

Gary laughed. "I think that was Josh-speak for, ‘Make popcorn, Gary.'"

"Too late. It's about to kick off." Josh stared at the TV as Spencer made his way to the lectern, as immaculately dressed as usual. A hush fell over the assembled journalists when Spencer placed a sheaf of notes on the podium, reached into his pocket, and removed a pair of glasses. He raised his head and gave the filled room a polite smile.

"Good afternoon. Thank you for coming." Spencer put on his glasses. "I'm sure I don't need to remind you of the horrific event that took place in Stutton, Arkansas. We mourn with those who lost family and friends, and we seek justice for them. As yet, the perpetrator of these heinous attacks remains at large, but the authorities are still involved in a search for him, and they won't rest until he is captured and answers for his deeds." Spencer lifted his chin. "The reason for this press conference is to bring news of a series of planned attacks—which have all been thwarted."

Murmurs erupted among the journalists.

Spencer nodded. "Yesterday, I received information that there were to be attacks at five locations in Chicago, namely the John Hancock Tower, the Field Museum of Natural History, the Shedd Aquarium, the Navy Pier, and the Willis Tower. Late last night, I deployed my teams to each of these locations, and my people were able to find—and disable—the devices, which were set to deliver the same toxin used in Stutton and a few other locations." He picked up a remote and aimed it at the projector hanging from the ceiling. "The team leaders took these photos before disabling the devices." On the screen flashed images, showing the bombs, and Spencer's teams in their hazmat suits. There were rumbles from the crowd of journalists. "What appalls me is that these devices had been placed in areas that usually enjoy large numbers of visitors. The devastation that could have resulted if we hadn't discovered them doesn't bear thinking about."

A journalist raised her hand. "Why didn't the police defuse these devices?"

"We didn't want to cause widespread panic," Spencer told her. "Once we knew of the existence of the bombs, I spoke with my government liaison, who gave me the green light to deploy my teams to remove them without attracting too much attention. That was the reason for making this a nighttime operation."

One by one, the journalists stood, giving their name and newspaper or TV channel before firing their questions, and Josh cringed when his name was mentioned yet again as the instigator of the attacks.

"Wow, he doesn't give up, does he?" Then he froze when a journalist stood and introduced himself as Paul Brady from the NYT. "Oh, thank God. Here we go."

"Mr. Spencer," Brady began, "I'm sure I speak for all of us when I thank you for the stellar work your teams have done in recent years, going into these scenes of devastation to clean up, looking after those afflicted…."

Spencer smiled. "I did it because someone had to."

Brady nodded. "However, I must admit to being a little confused."

"I'm happy to answer any questions to help clear up your confusion."

"Thank you," Brady said with a wide smile. He reached into his messenger bag and removed a folder. "You told us you only found out yesterday about the imminent attacks in Chicago."

"That's correct, so we had to move fast."

"See, that's what's confusing me." Brady removed a sheet from his folder and held it up. "Because I have a document here, authored by you, that lays out plans for your teams to go into Chicago—to clean up after the attacks on those five locations."

Murmurs filled the air, moving in a wave around the room.

Spencer frowned. "I'm sorry, but I don't have the slightest idea what you're talking about. What document?"

"The plans to go into Chicago are not the most confusing part," Brady continued. "No, the real mindbender is the fact that this document is dated three months ago."

The rumblings grew louder.

Before Spencer could get another word out, Brady held up another sheet. "I have a similar document here that refers to the attack on Stutton. Yet again, it details the cleanup operation—months before the attack took place. And there are more." He lowered the sheet. "So, Mr. Spencer, do you possess impressive powers of clairvoyance? And if you knew the attack in Stutton was going to take place, why didn't you swoop in to stop it, like you did in Chicago?"

A deathly silence fell, and Josh shivered.

Spencer cleared his throat. "Now I understand. You've been fed this information by Dr. Josh Malone, haven't you? This has all been concocted to lay the blame at my door and thereby save his own neck."

"Sorry, Mr. Spencer, but that theory doesn't fly anymore, because what also worries me is that these documents refer to attacks that the American people didn't even know about. Does Kingsman, Georgia ring a bell?" Brady held aloft a manila envelope. "What this folder does not contain is any reference to Dr. Josh Malone. It does, however, raise many questions, Mr. Spencer, about your involvement. So many, in fact, that I've passed it along to the FBI. I'm sure they will want to talk to you about this at some point." Brady squared his shoulders. "Because to my way of thinking, it looks as if you knew the exact location of the Chicago devices because you planted them there. Now why would you do that?" The noise level in the room increased, and there were some calls for Brady to shut up and sit down, but Josh spotted enough faces to know not everyone was buying Spencer's theory about Josh concocting all this.

Brady ignored the raised voices and speared Spencer with an intense gaze. "I'm not saying you personally planted the devices, but you definitely had knowledge. And let's not forget the video footage from Stutton. That was your doing, wasn't it, Mr. Spencer? You had someone already on the ground, suited up. Or else it was a drone. Either way, you wanted us to see the carnage. And I'm sure the FBI will have a long list of questions for you to answer." Brady turned toward the rear of the room, and smiled. "Speaking of which, I believe these gentlemen would like a word or two with you."

Five men in dark suits made their way to the stage, and the buzz of voices filled the room. When they reached the lectern, the leading figure leaned in, covered the mic, and spoke to Spencer in a low voice.

Josh held his breath once more as Spencer stepped down from the stage and was escorted to the rear of the room. Cameras followed his progress, and when the doors closed behind him, accompanied by a loud eruption of voices, Josh grinned.

"Gotcha."