Mitchell’s son, he realized how many lives the crime kingpin of LA had destroyed. Garrison might have a point regarding Ortega taking the fight to the cops.
“Still doesn’t make sense that he’d risk his life,” Declan said.
“Ortega?” Garrison asked.
“Yes.”
“His cancer is terminal,” the CIA officer told him. “This is his FU to the LAPD. He’s taking as many down with him as he can.”
Gabby was quiet.
Their eyes met in the rearview mirror. She looked like she was about to throw up.
“Headache, Angel?”
“I’m fine.” She edged to the window so he couldn’t see anything but the top of her head.
“We’re almost there,” Declan said. “We’ll get everyone immunized and it’ll be okay, right, Bristow?” He tried to keep the doubt from his voice, knew it wasn’t that simple, but someone needed to inject some positive to the gloom and doom saturating the air in the vehicle.
When Bristow didn’t answer, he cut his gaze to the rearview mirror again and met the nurse’s stare. “Right?”
“Theoretically.”
Declan’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel as he changed lanes seeing their exit ahead. “What do you mean?”
“The vaccine has an eighty-five percent efficacy and has only been tested on the Congolese and Liberians,” he paused. “Honestly? I’m putting it at fifty-fifty.”
“Those aren’t very good odds,” Gabby said. “How about people we’ve come in contact with?” She thought of Theo and Levi.
“If you came in contact with Ortega yesterday, you’re still within the forty-eight hour safe zone,” Bristow said. “We’ll do a blood kit to be sure. Our bioterrorism trailer is on its way to Seventy-seventh street. I’ve texted the driver where to go. How soon will we arrive?”
“We’ll be at Division in under ten,” Declan replied. And that was ten minutes too long.
16
An eighteen-wheeler was parked beside the gates housing GHD. The bioterrorism trailer contained equipment that could rapidly check for contagions.
Kelso was standing by the guard house and met them before they hit the gates.
Gabby rolled down the window. “Everyone here?”
“Just about.”
“Ortega?”
“They’re bringing him in a specialized ambulance,” Kelso said. “Waiting for you guys to arrive. Would have appreciated a heads-up with this trailer showing up.”
Gabby’s partner moved to his window. “Roarke,” Kelso greeted, but his eyes were on Garrison, so he made the introductions.
“Sorry about springing the eighteen-wheeler on you,” Garrison said in a no-way apologetic tone. “But we need to move this party along.” The CIA officer nodded pointedly to the pedestrians taking an interest in the semi-trailer truck.
“You’ll have to sign here,” the guard told Kelso who signed the clipboard while Gabby initialed beside his signature.
“We’re doing this at GHD?” Gabby asked.
“Yup. Cleared other departments to the other building as a precaution.”
As their vehicle passed the gates, Declan took a survey of the compound that housed the GHD. He remembered Gabby saying that they shared their building with an LAPD forensics lab. The other building was being used by the special Vice task force. She directed them to the one-story building that was typical of the construction in the seventies with red brick and concrete blocks.
The medical trailer pulled into the far end of the parking lot.
“Bristow has respirator masks,” Garrison said. “Use them before entering the building.”
Everyone complied.
When they entered the building, Mitchell was talking to Chen who scowled at the newcomers. The detective’s partner, who Declan remembered as Delgado, was standing beside him. He smiled at Gabby, but speared Declan and Garrison with the same chilly look that Chen awarded them. Delgado’s initial appreciation of his help yesterday had dissipated with the knowledge that he had used a fake badge.
“What we got?” Gabby asked as she joined the huddle.
“Let’s head to the war room,” Mitchell said, his eyes landing on Garrison. “You the spook?”
“John Garrison,” the man beside him replied. “And I wasn’t here.”
Mitchell nodded briefly. “Someone needs to liaise with our department. The feds are busy briefing the governor.”
“They’re probably scared to show up here,” Delgado piped in.
Everyone chuckled, but there was no humor in their tone.
“Well?” Mitchell prompted, his eyes landing on Declan.
What the fuck?
“Guess it’s you, Roarke,” Garrison muttered.
Gabby, who was talking to Chen, glanced over. “That’ll work, especially since you stuck your nose in our op anyway.”
“Dammit,” Garrison mumbled. “Guess you’re really up. Nice job, Roarke.”
If this was the only repercussion he had to face from his actions yesterday, then he was more than willing to step up.
Declan dipped his chin in an affirmative.
Satisfied, Mitchell turned back to his team and the group moved into a big room with a row of two open bullpens, each