The Hill - BLACKBIRD book 5

8. 101

Over the last two months working away from home so often, the team got to call 101 the room they used as their office to work through a case. They'd also put up some basic equipment they took along wherever they went. Having the 101 at their accommodation allowed them to work at any time of the day, and also isolate themselves from the rest of the world, to prevent intrusions and leaks.

At Greta's inn, it turned out to be a nice large room full of daylight, with an air conditioner and a sliding door to the back garden and the swimming pool. According to their request, Greta had all the furniture removed, to replace it with a table for eight, a board table and a small fridge.

Gillian walked in, still enjoying the fresh sensation of a quick shower and the change of clothes to a tank top, linen pants and sandals. Now she felt ready to face Savannah's soft winter, hotter than many a Boston summer. The forecast warned about thunderstorms by the end of the week, but it was still Tuesday and it was hot and humid for her Bostonian blood.

Tanya and Kurt deployed each two computers on the board table, Ron helped with the wiring to set a printer too. Aldana sorted out reports to have several copies of the case file. Fred brought the last of their two whiteboards and Hank stored small bottles of water in the fridge.

Russell and Brock joined them a moment later and Gillian had to swallow a smile at seeing Brock. He'd changed his suit to a blue short-sleeved shirt and khaki casual pants—he had to be really happy at this unexpected return to the field. On second thought, she realized there was no reason for her to smile at that. The stupid man looked too good, and it was going to be damn hard to stay focused with him only a couple of steps away.

Russell helped Hank to finish filling the fridge, then they handed water over for everybody and sat at the table with Fred. Ron and Kurt needed another minute, to make sure the inn wouldn't blow up when they turned on all their devices. Aldana brought folders and updated tablets to the table. Tanya turned the music off when Gillian closed the door. Brock stood by one of the boards, hands in his pockets—he's spending too much time with Cassidy, she thought. His I-only-exist-to-work scowl gave her some familiar element to relax: the militia's aftermath hadn't messed up with his habits, and he was still the same old scowler she knew.

She stood across the table from him. Maybe keeping him in sight would ease the temptation to look at him every few seconds. She huffed under her breath. It didn't make sense. How old was he? Fifty-three? Fifty-four? Wasn't there some kind of regulation that made it illegal for men his age to look so damn good? There had to be. Else, life was just too unfair.

Aldana gave her a tablet and she hurried to take it, only for the excuse to look down and away from Brock. She opened a file with a recap of the case and faced the table, waiting for all of them to grab a folder or a tablet too.

"Let's see what we've got, lads," she said. "Hank, how long till we hear from the CDC?"

"At least three more hours."

"Crap. Okay. T, focus on the patients. Start with the first group. Look for overlaps in credit card charges and go back a week before they went to the theatre. See if they bought anything at the same place. Then find who was the first to buy there and—"

"I'll ask for security feeds to search backwards from that purchase."

"Exactly. We won't accept delays for clearance to get the feeds. So if they stall, tell them to get a better firewall."

Tanya nodded with a mischievous smile.

"How many hospitals have BVD patients, Al?"

"Two."

"Alright. Russ, Ron, you take one and see what the doctors can tell you. I'm taking the other." She managed to meet Brock's eyes without looking like a cannibal gazing on her dinner. "Would you join me, sir?"

"Of course," he replied with a serious nod.

I. need. To. Look. Away. "Hank, stay on the CDC ass, no break. Call them every thirty minutes. And keep reading about the BVD. We need you to become our resident expert."

"You got it."

"Al, I need a meeting with the directors of the local hospitals. Today. Fred, can you help her contact all of them?"

"Sure thing."

"Great. Al, contact our field office and the local authorities as well. Let them know we're already working in town and we'll keep them up."

"You're gonna let them outta the case?" asked Russell.

"We've found out that's the best way to roll," Aldana replied. "They can reach us over the phone around the clock, but they don't have an address to come nosing around."

"Welcome to our own version of a blue police box," said Tanya with a wink.

Gillian smiled, nailing her eyes to the girl before they gravitated toward Brock again. "Damn right. Okay, lads, by sunset we need to know how, or at least where, the patients got infected. And as much as we can about what to expect from this wild strain of the virus."

Russell repeated the question he'd asked on the jet, "Anything on victimology?"

Ron shook his head. "It's all over. Assorted races and ages, men, women, different social status."

"The only thing they have in common is that at some point all of them came across the same thing that infected them," said Fred.

Gillian turned to Kurt. "Find out what kind of training you need to come up with a modified virus. Genetics? Virology? Both? Any other field of expertise required to pull it off?"

"Got it. Gonna pull a list of any qualified mad scientist in town and run a background check on them."

Gillian excelled at acting casual to address Brock. "Anything else we may need, sir? Anything we missed?"

Brock shook his head, master to young grasshopper. "I don't think so."

Look. Away. From. Him. Now. "Then that's it, lads. T, please send the addresses of the hospitals to our GPS."

"Right away."

Russell and Ron stood up and headed out. Gillian followed, not daring to look back and check if Brock was coming. Anyway, even before reaching the door his cologne told her he was barely one step behind. She set her jaw. Keep. Looking. Ahead.