Carlie Simmons (Book 2): In Too Deep Read Free Page A

privately. Right now, I have some pressing
matters to attend to as you might imagine so get a well-earned meal and take
time to catch your breath.” He paused, raising both hands up. “And welcome to our
new headquarters for the time being.”
    The president turned and put his arm on
Eliza’s shoulder while giving Carlie a brief stare before he walked away,
enveloped by his staff. As he did, Phillip rushed past Boyd and scurried
alongside the president’s protective detail.
    Jared moved up alongside Shane, Carlie,
and Matias who were still gazing at the president as he and his group floated across
the concrete floor like a single-celled organism. “Wow—I thought he’d at least have
given y’all a handshake,” said Jared. “That guy’s got no panache—when’s he up
for re-election?”
    “This must be your first interaction
with the federal government,” said Carlie. “Where, despite your most gallant
efforts, you’re always looked at as the bridesmaid, never the bride.”
    Boyd extended his hand towards a hallway
to their right. “This way, if you please. We’ll stop at medical first and then
get you some fresh fatigues to change into.”
    “Feels like I’m back in basic,” said
Carlie. “Hope they aren’t gonna require me to get a brushcut, too.”
    “Now that would be a real crime,” Jared
said, looking at her golden-blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail.
    Carlie gave him a sideways glance and
smirked, still not sure what to make of the charming Southerner.
    As they walked side by side down the
cavernous passage, workers briefly paused to stare at the motley group of
survivors covered in dust, scratches, and torn clothes with their tarnished
rifles hanging off their sides.

Chapter 2
    Bonn, Germany, Eleven Days
before the Pandemic
    Pavel Dimitrikov was sipping a cup of
jasmine tea while poring over his research notes on genetic mutations. The
summer was almost over and the large elm tree which shaded his back porch was
already beginning to show leaves whose time was nearly at an end.
    Occasionally, he looked up past the rim
of his silver bifocals to his eight-year-old granddaughter playing in the
garden beside his wife, or to identify a songbird that had landed on the cedar fence
line. It had been several weeks of work abroad in his job as a NATO bioweapons
inspector and he longed to get back to his university research, which didn’t
involve so much red tape and so many endless debriefings. Pavel put his
notebook down on the small round table, leaned back in his chair and clasped
his hands behind his head, taking in the scenery and inhaling the fragrance from
a nearby lilac bush.
    After a few minutes he stood up and went
into the kitchen to replenish his tea cup when he heard his work cellphone ringing.
With a sluggish gait, he forced himself over to the front door and picked up
the phone off the walnut corner table. Staring at the screen on the encrypted
phone, he scrunched his eyebrows together and hastily activated the device
while balancing his tea cup in his other hand. How many more statements do
they need from me on that last weapons inspection we did? It’s Sunday for
crying out loud.
    “This is Pavel…look, I already turned in
my report,” he said with a slight hint of his Russian accent.
    “Still the same short-tempered Pavel
that I remember,” said a gravelly voice. “It’s been a long time, old friend.”
    Pavel’s face grew still and he slowly
lowered the tea cup down to the table. He looked down the hall at the rear
porch to make sure his wife and granddaughter were still playing in the yard, then
he opened the front door and went outside. “Viktor Kruschenko….is that you? Why
are you calling me? And how is it you have my number? This is my secure phone
for work.” Pavel’s eyes shot a penetrating gaze up at the clouds beyond the
treeline as a flood of past images working in bioweapons research facilities in
the former Soviet Republic began seeping back into his