He hadn't used the virus either for Bill Morrell or that Indian bitch. Morrell was the man who'd created the weaponized Spanish flu that Frank bonded to the particular DNA of an individual. He'd been very well paid, but he had been starting to make waves, so he'd had to go. That Indian bitch Priyanka Anand had definitely had to go.
And now another woman was a threat. Baker had informants everywhere, and one had told him that Priyanka Anand had been in touch with Mike Hammer. Mike Hammer was the pen name of a muckraker called Jeremy Robsen. Just finding out who the hell Hammer really was had cost two hundred grand. But he had a complete file, including his address. The instant he found out that Anand had been in touch with Hammer, he had two of his guys break into Hammer's house and gather DNA. As a precaution.
Baker thought ahead.
The fucker had quite a following. Baker had kept a close eye on Hammer. He had to, because Hammer's cell and computer security were top rate. Nobody on Baker's team had been able to penetrate anything. As far as they knew, Hammer didn't communicate by phone or by computer, though of course that was crazy.
In the end, it was a member of Hammer's team that betrayed him. A junior member of the editorial team who received an anonymous email promising information on a weaponized virus created at the CDC, information from a very dead Priyanka Anand. The anonymous emailer asked for a meeting in Portland, Oregon.
Baker had had to get himself and a team to Portland via private jet before Hammer, and get a drone locked onto him.
He'd sent a plane to get the DNA to Frank, who edited it. Frank got the DNA-bonded virus out fast and loaded into the drone, so they were ready. Because Hammer was meeting someone, someone with information, and he had to be stopped.
Baker turned back to his computer monitor, where he stared at the footage for what seemed the thousandth time. The camera followed Hammer to a small hotel in a seedy part of town. He entered and didn't leave until the next morning, when he made his way downtown. Ducking into an alleyway and stopping. Then, out of nowhere, the woman appeared. Slender, dressed in a blue pantsuit with a wide-brimmed straw hat. At the first iteration, the hat seemed like a coincidence, but checking the footage of the big avenue where she must have come from, there was no recording of a slender woman in a blue pantsuit with a big hat. She'd been careful. Which meant that she was either trained or had been well-advised.
Baker watched, switching to slow motion as she walked down the filthy alleyway, trailing the wheelie. So-she was a visitor to Portland? Planning on flying out immediately afterward? What?
Baker slowed the video down even more, inching his face closer to the monitor, watching carefully. Hammer's face could clearly be seen. For all his tight cybersecurity, he hadn't counted on a drone. The alleyway itself was without security cameras. Hammer had had every reason to believe that this meeting would go unrecorded.
Baker studied the face. Hammer never appeared in public. He operated under anonymity and under a pen name. It wasn't clear from the drone footage how tall he was but he was thin, with a narrow, clever face. A thinker's face. Not a doer.
Hammer straightened when he saw the woman walking down the alleyway, expecting her. The woman walked right up to him, parked the wheelie against the wall, turned to him. Damn! With her back to the drone and its lens.
Hammer and the woman talked briefly as they increased in size. The drone coming closer. The woman placed something in Hammer's hands. Something tiny, something Baker was sure was a flash drive.
This was the point of the meeting. Hammer's fist closed around it and he closed his eyes briefly. Triumph. The exchange had gone off without a hitch.
Suddenly Hammer looked up and Baker saw him frown, his eyes opening wide in recognition and fear as he saw the drone. The drone sprayed him, the woman's face almost completely turned away. Hammer shot out his hand and shoved the woman against the wall, hard. She bounced, went down on one knee, turned her head toward Hammer.
By now, Hammer's terrified face filled the camera. Drops falling off his cheeks and nose. The virus in a solution.
Both Hammer and the woman were frozen, uncomprehending. Hammer lifted his hand and wiped his face, puzzled. He'd probably been expecting a bullet. A liquid spray didn't seem dangerous to him.
The woman started to turn her head up, but Hammer pushed it down before the camera could capture it. The camera showed him speaking to her, unfortunately at an angle that didn't allow for lip reading. Baker vowed that next time he'd capture sound, too.
Then Hammer brought a hand to his throat and started turning red. He swayed, his head bobbing. The woman stood still for a moment, then tried to catch Hammer as he fell to the ground.