BioWar
by A.J. Russo

Chapter 1

I don't know why I'm telling you this story. The government, the college where I teach, my friends, my family--nobody knows. In fact, I have been sworn to secrecy. But it has been ten years, and I'm afraid the same thing might happen again.
It started with a phone call. I remember--it was a Friday night. I was lying on the couch, legs propped up on the coffee table, slippers on, bathrobe gaping open. My wife, Julia, was sitting up, leaning on my side, her head on my shoulder.
My eyes were drooping. I was beginning to nod. Leno was just finishing his monologue.
I opened my eyes, startled by the loud applause coming from the TV.
The phone rang. My body jerked, then Julia's did.
"Who the hell is calling at this time of night?" I groaned.
Julia's eyes closed again and she gently put her head on my shoulder. I looked down at her and groaned again. "OK, I'll get it."
I slowly pulled my arm out from behind her neck, lifted my feet off the coffee table, and walked over to the phone.
Just as I reached it, the answering machine in the kitchen went on. I grabbed the phone off the coffee table pushed the on button and lifted it to my ear.
"Hello."
"Mister Wharton! It's Chris."
And then the message began. 'You've reached the Wharton residence. Please leave a message and we'll get right back to you.'
"Hold on Chris. Wait a minute. The machine will go off in just a second."
I waited. A couple of seconds later, the beep. Then Chris started up again.
"Mister Wharton, is Billy there?"
"Chris? Chris who?"
"Come on, Mister Wharton. You know who it is."
"No I don't."
"It's Chris, from Las Vegas. Billy's friend."
"Oh, that Chris. Billy isn't here, buddy. He's over at his mom's. He's staying over there tonight. Do you want me to tell him that you called?"
"Yeah, sure if you would. I'll try to catch him over there. What's her number again?"
I looked at my wife, she was still asleep, and looked back at the phone. It's 555-726-1737."
"Thanks, Mister Wharton. By the way, I hope I didn't call too late."
"Uh, no Chris. We were just sitting on the couch watching TV. No, everything is fine. Don't worry about it. How have you been?"
"I've been fine."
Suddenly there was a crackling sound at the other end, then another voice. "Hey baby. What's up?"
It was a man's voice, definitely not Chris.
And then a woman answered, "Hey don't give me that. Don't give me that, what's up shit. I was waiting for you all night. Where you been?"
"Chris! Chris!" I tried to interrupt. The strangers couldn't hear me.
"You know, baby I can't tell you what I've been up to. It's... It's private. It's secret. "
"I'm tired of this private and secret shit. You've been telling me private and secret for months now. And I still ain't gettin any, baby. We're supposed to meet tonight to have some dinner. I had everything at the table. The food is cold. It's back in the refrigerator. The candles are burned down and you ain't here. Now where you been?"
"Now look baby. I... I'll make it up to you. I promise I will."
"Chris! Chris!" I tried to interrupt again. No sign of Chris on the other end. Somebody just cut in. Maybe Chris had a party line.
"Chris, you there?" No answer.
The woman got back on the line. "You there? I told you I ain't going to do this anymore."
I heard some crackling sounds on the line, then an engine. It sounded like he might be calling from a car.
"You know that I love you and you know I'll do anything for you. But when they call, I got to go."
"I'm gettin sick and tired of this military shit. You got to be right here, is where you got to be. Now it's eleven o'clock at night. You suppose to be over here and you not over here. Where do you think I think you are?"
"Baby, I told you. I had some work to do. I got called and I don't have a choice. You're going to have to understand that. Besides, baby, there's a lot of money in this. I'm telling you, a lot of money. We could take ourselves away, far away." He hesitated for a couple of seconds. "Look, I can't tell you anything more. This is business. I shouldn't even be talking on this phone."
"How do I know you not out with some bimbo? Like Susie Snyder, you were out with two weeks ago."
"Wait a minute, honey. I wasn't out with no Susie Snyder."
"Don't give me that shit. I have some friends, and they were out at the club. They saw you with Susie Snyder."
I just sat back and listened to all of this. I was feeling like I was invading a private conversation, but kept my ear to the receiver. I looked down at my wife. She had leaned over on the couch, lying down, stretched out and soundly sleeping.
"Now look. That was nothing. I was at the club. There was some dancin goin on. I like dancin. You know that. And I was just dancin with her. It was a couple of dances. That was it. I didn't even have any drinks with her. I didn't even buy her a drink."
"I don't want to hear that shit. Now, you supposed to be over here for dinner. You don't show up. What am I supposed to think?"
"Now look baby, you know that I'm telling you the truth. In fact, you contact me. I have to get off this line. You contact me-alpha neptune 7342. You know that's where I am. That's my work. I'll answer you. You'll know that I'm at work."
She hesitated. "All right, all right."
There was silence. They had both hung up. I put the phone back down, went over to my wife, leaned over and gave her a gentle poke on the shoulder.
"Come on honey. Let's go to bed."
She looked up at me and opened her eyes. She was in a daze. She put her hand around my neck, pulled me down and gave me an open-mouthed kiss. I gave her a tug and helped her to her feet. We walked together, my arm around her waist, to the steps. The bedroom was upstairs.
At the bottom of the steps, I gave her a gentle shove and told her that I was going to check the doors--make sure they were locked and the lights were out. She gave me a nod, walked, droopy-eyed, up the steps and toward the bedroom.
I turned down the hallway and went into the kitchen. The lights were on. I turned them off.
I opened the door leading to the garage and saw that the garage door was open. Reached around and pushed the buttons controlling the door. It squeaked as it moved down and closed.
The back door was locked. The front door was locked. I felt secure. I turned to go down the hallway back to the steps and looked at the phone. The light on the answering machine was blinking. I went over, pushed the button on the machine and listened. The whole conversation had been recorded. The two people, talking to each other, a lover's quarrel. A man working for the military, going to make a lot of money, on an unsecured phone, talking to his lover--trying to convince her that he was really called into work at eleven o'clock at night, and that's why he had to miss dinner with her.
I looked down at the erase button, hesitated, then decided to save the message. I'm still not sure whether that was the right decision.

Chapter 2

My wife and I sleep in a king-size bed. We are both short. I am only five feet-five, stocky. She's about five foot and tiny. We sleep and, with the covers over us, we form two small lumps on either side of the bed. She likes her space. I like to roll around. The space gives us room to do our thing.
At four-thirty in the morning, when the alarm rings and Julia has to get up and get ready for work--she leaves around six--she comes over and gives me a hug. It's probably our most special time together. She lays with her arm and leg over me, only for five or ten minutes, but we both fall asleep for that short period of time, holding each other.
It takes about an hour and a half for her to shower, check her e-mail, have breakfast, read and feed the dog. It's her private time.
I sleep with the fan on, door closed, don't hear a thing. Then at six o'clock--I'm usually still asleep--she comes in, gently sits next to me on the bed, gives me a hug and tells me that it's time to get up.
This was a special day-my son, Billy's birthday. He thought we were going to dinner at his favorite spot, The Four Seasons. They had a great buffet, and it was only about ten minutes from the house. But we had a surprise planned.
"Are you getting up?" my wife said, whispering in my ear, hugging me as she sat on the edge of the bed.
"Yeah, I guess. Got to get up. Got to get ready for the day. Got to teach those students everything I know."
"That shouldn't take long."
"Funny. Real funny."
She backed away from the bed and walked out the door. I slowly lifted my legs, pulled them over the side, sat up and mumbled to myself. "Lord, fifty years old. I guess I don't really feel like I'm fifty. Do I?"
I was trying to convince myself-and not succeeding. I got up, stretched and walked downstairs.
It was six o'clock. I was heading directly for the coffee machine. Julia was excited. She wanted to talk. It was like it was mid-afternoon and she had a thousand things she wanted to tell me. But I had one thing on my mind, how long was it going to take for the coffee to drip into that pot?
I was standing next to the coffee machine--drip, drip, drip, drip, watching as if staring at it was going to make it go faster. Julia was talking away--telling me about her day, asking me questions. I was nodding, grunting, trying as hard as I could to concentrate, listen, and be polite, but not really doing a good job of it.
Then she turned to me. "Hey, who was on the phone last night?"
I got excited, reminded of the call. I turned from the Mister Coffee and concentrated. "I don't know. It was the craziest thing. The phone rings, I pick it up. It's Chris, Billy' friend from Las Vegas. He's asking me about Billy. I'm telling him he's over at his mom's. All of a sudden it's like I'm on a party line. These two other people start talking. I'm trying to interrupt--to tell 'em I'm talking to somebody else, but they don't hear me. Chris is not on the phone any longer and I can't get back to him. So you were sleeping and I just kind of listened." I turned back to the coffee and poured while I talked. "I probably shouldn't of, but hey. It was kind of an interesting conversation. Anyway, as it turns out, after you went to bed I went to lock everything up and realized that the answering machine had picked up. The whole conversation was recorded. Do you want to listen to it?"
Julia looked at her watch, then looked back at me. "Uh, yeah, maybe later. I have to head out. I've got to get to work a little early. I need to do some computer stuff before I get barraged with the morning blood draws."
"All right. I'm going to put a new tape in the machine and save this one. You're going to be interested in it. I'll play it for you later."
I gave Julia a hug and a kiss. She walked out the door. I closed my robe around me, pulled tight on the cord to secure it, reached for my cup of coffee, took a sip, walked over to the answering machine, took the tape out and put it in the drawer next to the telephone.

Chapter 3

The ride up route 15 toward Mount Saint Mary's College, where I was a biology professor, was a pleasant one. The sun was shining. The sky was blue with a few high wispy clouds. It was fall and the leaves on the Catoctin Mountains were changing colors--beautiful reds and greens and amber. I was staring at them, thinking, what the hell were those people talking about last night? I couldn't get it off my mind.
It was about a twenty-minute ride, and before I knew it I was pulling off the highway and into the main entrance to the College. I found a lone spot in the parking lot of the Science Building, still waking up and not quite cognizant of all things around me. I checked my watch. I had about half an hour to prepare for a molecular biology class.
Fifteen minutes of that half an hour, I needed to be on the phone, contacting some of Billy' friends, making last minute contacts for the surprise birthday party he was going to have at the house that evening. I got to my desk, sat down, picked up the phone and called a couple of people. No one was home, so I left messages on machines. Party tonigh,t six-thirty, park across the street behind the neighbor's house. Billy will be there at 7:00. It's a surprise.
Billy is going to be eighteen years old. I can't believe it--my little baby. I had a picture of him on the desk and I was staring at it. In the photo, I was sitting in a chair holding him in the palm of my hand. His older brother, Steve, only four years old at the time, standing in front of me, looking at both of us. Eighteen years ago, where did the time go?
The molecular biology class was exciting. Chaotic, but exciting. The students were running around doing research. Three groups looking for materials. I was helping them with their experimental designs. Making sure they had the right controls, for the right experiments. It was a vocation I had chosen twenty years before, and I loved it.
I left the class at twelve-fifteen, went back to my office, gathered my coat, made sure I had my wallet in my pocket, and went to the cafeteria.
The faculty lounge was located just to the north of the student cafeteria. Some of us chose to eat with the students and some of us preferred to eat with the other faculty members. Today I was going to meet with Kevin Burke, a member of the business department, but also a prominent lawyer in the Emmitsburg/Frederick/Gettysburg area. My nephew, Ben, was going to court and I told Ben I'd check on some legal advice for him.
Kevin was on the other side of the cafeteria, in the corner. I spotted him and gave him a wave. He gave a nod and I walked over. We sat on opposite sides of the table, both leaning toward each other, whispering, with our soup and sandwiches below.
"Look I don't know how easy this is going to be, Tony, I've got to be honest with you. This is his second offense and judges generally don't like second DWI's."
"Yeah, I know Kev. I'm just asking you to help him in the best way that you can. I realize that at this point it doesn't look good. If you gather the evidence and present it to the court, and the judge gives him some time, between you and I, maybe that's the best thing for him."
"So what are you saying here?" Kevin leaned forward and whispered. "You don't want him to get off. You don't want me to try to get him off?"
"No, I'm not saying that at all. I think that he's got some problems and I think that he needs some rehab. All I'm saying is that I'd like you to do the best job you can. If he has to spend some time in jail, it might be the best thing for him."
Ben had been drinking for a few years. His mother had noticed it and had talked to him about it. The first incident--a couple of years before--he simply swerved off the road, no accident. A cop saw him, pulled him over, and cited him for drunken driving. Nobody was hurt.
When he went to the first trial, the judge just gave him a scare--30 days, but suspended it, adding a year's probation.
While he was on probation, he was great. He was convinced that he had to rehabilitate and stop drinking. But as soon as the year was up, he went right back to it. Unfortunately it had gotten worse. This outcome of this case was going to be different.
About two months ago, he drove off the road and hit a car. It was a parked car. Unfortunately there was a little girl sitting in the back seat waiting for her mom to come out of the store. The girl was hospitalized. Now she's O.K., but she could have been killed.
I was thinking about all of this as Kevin whispered to me about strategy and the kinds of things Ben needed to think about, and bring with him, for their first meeting.
Then my mind shifted back to the phone conversation the night before. I looked over Kevin's shoulder and saw Ameil Spencer. Ameil was a political scientist, who worked with several government agencies--including the Army and, rumors had it, the CIA. I turned back to Kevin.
"Excuse me Kev. Do you mind? I just want to go over and talk to Ameil for a second."
"Sure, yeah, no problem. I'll be right here. I'm going to finish my soup." Kevin looked at his watch. "I should be able to stay about another twenty minutes. I have class at one-thirty."
"All right, I should be right back."
I walked over and sat down with Ameil. He was talking to somebody else--someone I didn't recognize. He looked up at me.
I said hi, then excused myself. It was obvious that I had interrupted a conversation, but the other person just stood, excused himself and left. I sat.
"Tony, what's up?" Ameil said, just before biting into a sandwich.
"Listen, Ameil, something weird happened to me last night. I just wanted to see what you thought about it. It's been on my mind and I don't know what's going on."
"Sure. Shoot. I don't know how I can help you, but go ahead. What's up?"
"Well, I had this phone conversation about eleven last night. It really wasn't a conversation, but I picked up the phone. A friend of my son's was on the other end. All of a sudden in the middle of our introductions, a couple of strangers get on the line--some kind of a party line. They couldn't hear me, but I could hear them. By accident I taped the conversation. To make a long story short, this guy insinuates to his girlfriend that he's working for the military. He's in this work situation where he's about to make lots of money--which makes me suspicious, because who the heck makes a lot of money in the Army?" I smiled. Ameil didn't. Guess he didn't appreciate my sense of humor. "Then, to convince his jealous girlfriend that he's really at work, he gives her a phone number. The phone number is alpha neptune and then an extension. I forget what the number was."
Ameil looked at me with a really strange look, leans forward and starts to whisper.
"What was that extension again?"
"Alpha neptune and then a number. I'm not really sure what the number was."
Ameil looked from side to side, still leaning forward. He was on his elbows now, chewing the last bit of a sandwich then swallowing. His hands were cupped around his mouth.
"Look Tony I don't know what's going on here, but if it's the same alpha neptune I know, this an extremely secure. In fact, I don't even think I should be mentioning any of this to you. Just forget you heard the number. "
"What do you mean? You're saying that this guy is involved at some really high up? How secure we talking about?"
"Look, we're talking high. About as high as you can go. In fact, I can't tell you anything more about this number. No one else has access to this number."
I just sat back in my seat. It didn't make sense. "Ameil, listen. This guy on the other end, he just didn't sound like he was involved in that level of government. It was the way they spoke. They sounded uneducated."
Ameil was really interested now, but I could also tell he was also scared. He was quiet for a moment. Then he stared at me. Stared into my eyes. He was about to say something, but he stopped, then he asked me to go on and tell him a little bit more about the conversation.
"I don't know how much more I can tell you. It was late at night. This guy apparently called up the girl. She was mad at him because they had a dinner date or something. She was jealous. I remember that, because she had seen him out with somebody else. He was obviously still interested in her. He tried to convince her to stick around. He told her that he really wasn't out with somebody else, but he was at work. He definitely used the word work. He said he was about to make a lot of money and this job was really important. He said something about the military and then he gave the number."
"I'm not sure what I can do," Ameil said. "I'm gonna make some calls--check on a couple of things and I'll get back to you."
I thanked him and went back to my meeting with Kevin.
The rest of the afternoon was filled with committees, and students who needed a little extra help. Some advisees stopped by. They needed some counseling. Then there was a meeting with the Undergraduate Academic Committee--always a lot of fun. It lasted two hours.
The meeting was done by about five. I packed up my books and left right away. I wanted to get home in time to set things up for Billy' party.
On the ride home I pulled the cell phone out. I had a couple more calls to make to Billy' friends, leaving messages whenever I couldn't catch someone. We were expecting at least twenty-five. Hopefully Billy wasn't expecting anybody, I thought.
I pulled up our steep, long driveway into the garage, just as the first guests were walking up to the front door.
Julia promised that she would be home an hour early. As expected, she was there, greeting people as they got to the front door. I walked in through the garage door and into the kitchen. To my surprise the cake was there, the balloons were blown up, the confetti was on the table. Streamers were taped from corner to corner in the dining room. The punch bowl was filled with some pink stuff that had seeds in it--lemons and oranges floating on top. I hoped it wouldn't get spiked.
I approached Julia from behind as she stood at the front door. She backed up as some of Billy' friends walked through. What a woman, I thought. She worked a tough day and then rushed home to get the party ready for her stepson.
About a half an hour went by and, not twenty-five, but thirty-five people showed up. I guess the word had spread at school. The basement was packed with people.
The idea was to have Billy come in and be surprised with the streamers, decorations, a cake, and some presents. Then we would bring him downstairs where thirty-five screaming kids would yell his name and wish him a happy eighteenth. I couldn't wait. It was going to be a great party. My wife was bringing the punch bowl over to the dining room table from the kitchen, when the phone rang. I picked it up.
"Tony. It's Ameil. Hey, I need that tape."
"Hey, uh Ameil. The tape, you need the tape? What's going on?"
"Listen. I really can't tell you about it, but I need that tape. It's important."
"Yeah, sure. Who needs it, the government--the Army? What's going on?"
"Look, the only thing I can tell you is that this is a directive from the office of the President of the United States. I can't tell you anything more, but I need that tape and I need it right away."
"Jesus, Ameil. I didn't even know you knew people up there." I hesitated. "Umm, sure. I'll bring it to school with