Read Online The Widow's Strike by Brad Taylor - Free Book Online Page A

short end of a thousand different lawsuits claiming everything from flat feet to deafness due to the vaccine.
    Chip had been told Cailleach could handle the production safely, inside the Biopolis campus in Singapore, a biomedical complex that was fast becoming the world leader in such research. That statement had just been proven wrong. Instead of becoming the world’s savior at the onset of an outbreak, they had come close to causing it. He shuddered to think of the potential liability. The exposure.
    He was brought out of his thoughts by the limousine’s stopping. He exited outside the southwest gate to the White House, wondering how he was going to maintain focus for the Oversight Council update, given what he’d just heard.
    After clearing security, he went through the gate and entered the Old Executive Office Building, adjacent to the West Wing. He walked up to the conference room a little early and found Kurt Hale at the podium, ready to brief.
    Being one of only two civilians on the council, he always felt out of place at these meetings and rarely said a word. But he’d played a significant role in President Warren’s reelection and remained a valued adviser, so he’d agreed to a seat on the council, only voicing his opinion when he felt he had something to offer.
    In short order, the room became crowded with the other members of the council, a low murmur spreading as the officials talked among themselves, waiting on the president. He entered at the stroke of the clock, saying, “Let’s get this rodeo going, Kurt, I don’t have a lot of time.”
    Kurt began with an overview of Knuckles’s status and the risk of Taskforce exposure. The discussion brought Chip back to his own near miss, and he let the voices drone on, thinking instead of what cleanup still remained in Singapore.
    He returned to the conversation when he heard the secretary of state, Jonathan Billings, raise his voice.
    “What do you mean, ‘exploring options’? Pike was supposed to go to the embassy as the president of Grolier Recovery Services. According to the ambassador, he hasn’t shown up yet and he’s been there for a couple of days.”
    Kurt said, “I know, I know, but they’ve got Knuckles for a homicide now. It’s become more serious than Pike just solving the problem by walking into the embassy and waving some business cards. Maybe it’s time for official intervention.”
    Billings didn’t respond, looking to the president, who said, “What’s coming out officially on that? Anything?”
    Billings said, “No. Nobody has notified the embassy at all. As far as they know, Knuckles is still just another arrested American. Nothing on the death in the prison.”
    President Warren said, “Okay, then we continue as planned. We can’t amp it up until they do.”
    “But Knuckles is in trouble,” Kurt said. “From what Pike said, he’s in real danger. We wait, and it may be just to process a body back home.”
    The president held up his hand, indicating the conversation was over. “We wait. This is the closest we’ve ever come to exposure of the Taskforce. You know that. Knuckles can take care of himself for a few more days.” President Warren looked at his watch, then said, “What else have you got?”
    When Kurt didn’t respond, he said, “Look, have Pike keep an eye on him. I won’t let him get killed. We’ll pull out the stops if we have to. Just give it some time. I don’t feel we need to man the battle stations just yet.”
    Kurt took a breath, then switched gears, putting on the screen the picture of a swarthy fiftysomething man with a jet-black mustache, looking vaguely like Saddam Hussein before he was jerked out of a spider hole with a Prophet Moses beard.
    “The penetration of the metropolitan police bureau worked, although not like we thought. It turns out they’ve been following a Persian-carpet salesman from Iran, not our suspected Hezbollah facilitator. They’ve kept track of him because of the Iranian