Steven H. Jackson - Death of a Cure: A Thomas Briggs Novel

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AThomas Briggs Novel

STEVENH. JACKSON

Thisbook is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidentsare either the product of the authors imagination or are usedfictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, orto actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.

DEATHOF A CURE

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IN MEMORY OF MYBROTHER

TimothyDouglas Jackson

September 16,1959 to January 11, 2007

Anunfortunate side effect of hope is deception.

Anonymous

PROLOGUE

W eknow them as humanitarians. Of this we are sure. We are certain;their calling unimpeachable. They have forsaken success in industryand in government that was surely theirs just for the taking. Thispersonal sacrifice is for us but, more importantly, for those welove. They are servants of a greater good. In return, we entrustthem with our time, our talents, and our money all we cangive. They move the hearts of our children, our friends, and ourcoworkers all of whom enlist sponsors who contribute even more moneybased on miles hiked or biked along traffic-laden thoroughfares. Welook to them to lead us from the heartbreak the overwhelmingemotional devastation that cripples us as our lives derail whensomeone we love is struck down by a cruel and life-robbing disease. We hold them to a higher standard. They are better. We need them tobe. They are the caretakers of our hope.

But is our dream of a curereally their mission? Have we been deceived? Could it be a cruelduplicity, a personal deceit, phenomenal in its audacity, yet nothingmore to them than an evil means to a selfish end? A falsehoodperpetrated against the trusting, abetting positions of power; ourhope blinding us from the truth. Have the lifestyles, the position,and the money become their true motivation? Have they come to seethe disease, our enemy, as their benefactor? How far would they goto protect the enemy?

Would they kill?

CUREPREVENTION

J ustmoments before his death, Dr. Ronald Briggs had been alone standingbehind his desk, about to call it a night. Someone, once a friendthough now an enigma, entered his dimly lit office. Thesemi-automatic pistol looked menacing in the light cast by a desklamp. Although the hand that held the weapon was not large, its gripwas sure. The gun was steady and its aim unwavering. The two stoodmotionless as they faced each other.

Im not ready fora cure. It was a simple statement. Briggs waited for more,for the excuses, the rationalizations, but none were offered. Personal agenda had superseded that of the organization, of themission. A fact suspected was no longer concealed.

Briggs had not been surprisedby the sudden appearance in his office and only a little by the gun. He quietly replied in a resigned, uncharacteristically tired voice,How long has it been since you really cared for those whobelieve in us? Did you ever?

Ignoring his question, theintruder gave a quick command. Give me the backup disk youmade this afternoon. I know you have it with you.

Without looking, Briggsreached slowly into his lab coat pocket and produced a DVD sandwichedinside a scratched yellow plastic case. It contained the newmaterial, pivotal information that would become part of this weeksbackup the documentation of his recent success in the searchto find a cure for CID. He laid it on the desk next to him. Thelight from the oversized lamp captured the pistol and the yellow casein its circle. There was no immediate move to retrieve it, to takefrom the world this vessel that held the secret to CIDs innerworkings and the blueprint to render it impotent.

The voice, icy-cold in itsresolve, spoke to Briggs again, It doesnt have to bethis way.

His adversary was partiallyconcealed, hidden in the shadow, with only a hand and the gun it heldin the direct light of the lamp. Briggs couldnt see anexpression. He couldnt examine the face for some weakness toexploit. If only Tommy were here. He had no concern that hisbrother would share his jeopardy; that he too would also be indanger. No, not for a moment because Tommy would know what to do. Their roles would reverse; there would be no jeopardy, no danger. The junior brother would take the lead stepping in front of Briggs ashe had done twice before. He would then somehow, with some swift,frighteningly primal action, end this as easily as Briggs knotted hisbow tie. Tommy would momentarily expose a part of himself, his trueself, to his older brother a part that Tommy worked hard tokeep under control, out of sight, even from Ron. Especially fromRon.

Instead of that hopefulscenario, Briggs floundered for what to say, his emotions selectingsimple words in response to the challenge, You mean yourenot going to kill me?

You may have left me nochoice, but its really up to you. I know your secret. Theone you keep from us, all the while thinking that you are so muchsmarter than everyone else. In the voice he heard somethingthat he had never heard before. The words not simply spoken butsneered with contempt, with a meanness, a hatred, that seemedstrangely to bring pleasure, so unlike the carefully maintainedpersona. For the first time Briggs was afraid. The evil side wasthe reality: everything else a facade, a mechanism sufficient todeceive both the naive as well as the sophisticated.

I dont know whatyou are talking about. Briggs offered the accusationdestroying hope.