51
The last person from
whom Mark expected to hear was Dr. Edward Karn. Karn e-mailed
Stern’s column, which Mark could access remotely and discretely.
Over the years at various papers, this connection proved to be an
effective—and surprisingly secure—way to make private
contacts.
The message
read:
Dear Mr. Stern:I have information that might be of interest to you. Given that the proper authorities might not be so proper, I’d feel more comfortable sharing the information with you instead.Sincerely,
Edward Karn
Mark had his hands
full with the glut of conspiracy information that seemed to be
multiplying on an hourly basis. Karn, however, was exactly the kind
of story for which he’d been trolling when he’d first contacted
Rick Mecklenberg to see what was “out there.” Though he felt a bit
guilty taking any time away from Gwen’s story at this point, he
sent a reply using the Post’s e-mail
template directing Karn to meet him the following morning at a
nearby IHOP.
Gwen opened the door
of her room at the bed-and-breakfast and her jaw
dropped.
“Jan?” She could
barely believe the missing BioNet Director was standing in front of
her, along with the man she presumed was the security specialist
mentioned in the iPrive correspondence. “How did … where
have—”
Jan laughed. “I’ll
explain all of it if you let us in.”
Gwen shook her head
briskly, as though doing so would make the world sensible again.
“Of course. Come on in.”
Jan walked into the
room and hugged Gwen tightly. It was the kind of hug people gave
when they thought they’d never see you again.
She stepped back and
turned toward the man next to her. “Gwen, this is Peter Tippett. He
helped me break into BioNet before we were abducted.”
“Abducted?” Gwen
said, alarm streaking her voice. “What are you talking
about?”
Mark, who had been
working on the laptop, drifted over to the front door. Gwen
introduced him and then implored Jan to tell her what happened.
What came next was a story Gwen would have considered inconceivable
just a week ago—an odyssey of capture and escape that included a
lecture by Alan Jordan on alleged food contamination by Islamic
terrorists.
“This is
incredible,” Gwen said when Jan finished.
Jan chuckled
humorlessly. “I only wish I were making it up.”
“As you might have
guessed from where you found us, Mark and I have been on a surreal
ride of our own.”
Gwen told Jan about
everything from Jack’s seizure to their encounters—or
near-encounters—with an unknown foe. Then Mark relayed what they
had uncovered, although Gwen was quick to point out that she wasn’t
buying into coffee as the cause of seizures.
“As a physician with
the CDC,” said Jan, “I have to side with Gwen on this one, Mark.
Things aren’t always what they seem.”
Peter sat down and
slumped in an oversized chair in the corner of the room. “I’m
basically a security specialist,” he said, “although my work
mandates I keep close ties with the intelligence community, with
whom I often consult. I suggest that Gwen and Jan continue to work
the medical angles of this rather perplexing problem. But,” he
said, turning to Jan, “I think Mark and I need to check out any
other leads, no matter how speculative. While coffee may turn out
to be a benign footnote to this enigma, the correlations Mark
obtained from the Wall Street Journal’s
database can’t be ignored.”
“Looks like we have
our work cut out for us,” said Gwen.
“It certainly does,”
said Mark. “Before we go any further, though, I need to know
something. How did you find us?”
“Those close ties
with the intelligence community come in handy. A couple of former
employees who knew Jack and Gwen now work at Quantico. When you
showed up there, one of them followed you back here.”
“We were that easy
to track,” Mark said, casting a worried expression in Gwen’s
direction.