Melting The Ice. Loreth White Anne
shouldn’t be telling you this. I don’t want to involve you.”
“Rex, I’m in this whether you like it or not.”
“I don’t. And what I’m going to tell you has to remain between us. Hannah, I have to trust you. Lives could depend on it.”
“You’re a fine one to be talking about trust, Logan.”
She saw the slight narrowing of his eyes, the shadow that flitted through them. But he let her jibe pass. He wasn’t going to be drawn there. “You’re a reporter.”
“I can keep a secret, Rex. Believe me. I haven’t gone to the cops.” Yet.
He took a sip of his coffee, watching her over the rim.
“Well, what did you find in Amy’s apartment?”
“Two library books and a document.”
“Oh, that definitely means she met with foul play.”
He wasn’t amused. “It’s the subject matter. Amy Barnes was reading up-to-date information on biological warfare.”
“What?”
“It wasn’t just biological weapons she was interested in. She was reading up on genetically engineered BW technology.”
“Okay. I’m having real trouble joining the dots here. Help me out.”
“We have reason to believe that Amy came across something here in White River that landed her in trouble. Something to do with biological weapons.”
“We?”
“Bio Can.”
“What’s a pharmaceutical company got to do with this?”
“Let’s just say Bio Can has a highly specialized division focused on developing antidotes and vaccines for bugs with a potential to be weaponized.”
Her head was spinning. “But I thought your field was more indigenous medicine.” At least that’s what you told me in Africa.
“It is. I work in both divisions.” He stopped talking as the server arrived with their food. Rex tucked into his egg and bacon platter, savoring a mouthful before continuing.
Hannah stared at her fruit. Biological weapons? What in the hell had Amy been up to? “Maybe she was just researching something, Rex, for a story.”
He chewed, nodded. “Maybe. But there was a piece of paper in one of the books. On it is the name and number of a CIA agent, one who specializes in biowarfare intelligence.”
“Oh my God.”
He sipped his coffee. “How’s the fruit?”
The question seemed suddenly so inane. Hannah looked at the plate in front of her, picked up a fork and jabbed at a strawberry. “Fine.” She felt ill.
“And I checked Amy’s computer last night. The hard drive has been cleaned out.”
Hannah stiffened. “That’s it. The break-in. That’s what they took. Electronic data. No wonder the cops didn’t find anything.”
“Well, whoever took the data didn’t find the library books.”
“But who?”
“That’s what I’m here to find out. I’m hoping you’ll help.”
“I don’t get it, Rex. Why White River? What’s the connection?”
“We don’t know. But the forensic toxicology conference is a common denominator here. We suspect something may be going down.”
“Like what?”
“A deal. An information exchange, maybe. We haven’t got much time.”
“But what does a conference like that have to do with biological warfare, anyway?”
Rex pushed his plate aside. “There is a component on the conference agenda that covers lethal viruses and new research in the field of forensic detection. It’s that kind of stuff that draws top scientists from around the world. Ideas are exchanged. Connections made. Deals made. Most of it happens offstage. Bio Can likes to keep on top of these kinds of developments. So do a lot of other agencies.”
Hannah looked out through the little window panes at a group of young people gathered in the sun on the patio across the village square. Amy should be with them, laughing, planning her next snowboarding trip, her next surfing expedition. She had been cheated out of her future.
She turned back to face the man in front of her. “So you’re telling me you’re one of the good guys?”
“Good is a subjective term.”
“Is that why you don’t want the cops involved?”
“This is beyond small-town cops, Hannah. This is the big league. The global league.”
She pushed her uneaten fruit bowl aside. She felt as if all the blood had left her head.
He leaned forward as if to take her hand. Hannah braced for the touch but it never came. He seemed to catch himself, lifting the coffeepot instead. He held it up. “Refill?”
She shook her head. “What happens now?”
He poured seconds for himself. “Now, you tell me about Ken Mitchell.”
“Ken Mitchell?”
“This slices both ways, Hannah.”
“Rex, I don’t know any Ken Mitchell.”
“You were lunching with him at the Black Diamond yesterday.”
Hannah felt something slip in her stomach. “You mean Mark Bamfield, the freelance writer?”
“Try CIA.”
“I see.” Her brain was numb.
“So he’s calling himself Bamfield. What’s his cover?”
She cleared her throat. “He said he was a freelance reporter from Washington, that he was here for the toxicology conference and that he was doing a story on Amy Barnes.”
“See the links now?”
She nodded. She didn’t like what she was seeing at all.
This time he placed his hand over hers. “And, Hannah, if you go to the police now, if you tie me up with bureaucracy, you could end up getting yourself killed.”
She looked down at the large hand covering her own. She could feel its warmth, its roughness. It was the hand with the ring, the token of her love, the symbol of her naiveté. She looked back up into his eyes. She couldn’t read them. “That sounds like a threat, Rex.”
“No, Hannah. A warning. I don’t want you to get hurt. You’ve crossed the line. There’s no going back now. Now you play by new rules.”
He was right. She didn’t see how she could turn back. Her world hadn’t only shifted on its axis; she’d been thrust into a whole new one where she didn’t know the players and she didn’t know the rules. And she sure as hell didn’t know the man sitting in front of her.
She pulled her hand out from under his. “What do you want me to do?”
Something flickered through his eyes. Then it was gone. “Can you get me into the Gazette office? I need to take a look at Amy’s work computer, see if she left any trail there.”
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