The Flu Case

"Always," he screamed at me. "She always calls me about a body when I'm trying to eat dinner!" Flint cried, throwing his fork on the table with a clunk.
 
Seline watched him hang up his work cell and stare across the table.
 
“I don’t believe she does it on purpose, sweetheart,” she commented, standing up to retrieve the fork.
 
“I am not so sure she doesn’t,” he muttered, passing his hand over his dark hair.
 
“You are becoming paranoid Flint,” she said, staring accusingly with her green eyes. “How was she to know we would be dining later tonight?”
 
“Oh, I lost my appetite already,” he groaned and pushed his chair back with a screech.
 
“I’ll save it for tomorrow, it will taste even better,” she hurried to add.
 
He glanced back and forth between her and the roast beef on his plate, and, feeling his stomach churn, hurried to the bathroom.
 
A moment later he tried a drink of water to settle his empty stomach, then he joined his wife in the sitting room, “Are you OK, hon?” asked the motherly woman dressed in a flowered dress.
 
“I don’t understand it. I have worked on the force for twenty-five years and this has never happened before.”
 
“It could just be a case of the stomach flu,” she soothed.
 
“No! The flu doesn’t last two months and get worse with time,” he answered, dropping heavily into the overstuffed chair.
 
“Why don’t you get an appointment with the doc?” she patted his hand.
 
“I know something is very wrong. … Though, I am not sure the doctor can help me,” he told her, and closed his brown eyes so he did not see the worried look she gave him.
 
Early the next morning, Flint entered the office of the FBI head Psychiatrist, Doctor Kenn.
 
“Good morning, Flint,” the doctor greeted him, noticing that the usually fit man had lost weight.
 
“Do you have a moment?” Flint murmured, glancing about to make sure they were alone.
 
“Sure, come into my office. What can I do for you?” he asked, gesturing to an armchair.
 
Thirty minutes later, the doctor stood and walked to the door between his office and the receptionist.
 
“Miss Flair, what’s on my calendar today?”
 
“Hair cut at ten, pick up cleaning at eleven, lunch with Colonel Triant at one,” chanted the tall brunette seated there.
 
“Call the barbershop and re-schedule my appointment.”
 
“Immediately,” she replied, punching buttons on the phone.
 
“Take a two-hour lunch and, on your way back pick up my cleaning, please. I want no calls until then.”
 
“No problem,” turning to her computer she answered the incoming call. “Good morning, Frances…”
 
The doctor returned to his office, and closed the door tight behind him.
 
“Flint, now we have some time to talk uninterrupted. All you have told me leads me to believe that someone is tampering with you.”
 
“What do you mean?” Flint’s tired form sat up straight to listen.
 
“That you have the exact symptoms caused by a classified drug.”
 
“Why?” he asked, staring at the doctor who was in his mid forties.
 
“That I don’t know. Are you working on a case?”
 
“No, the chief is scheduled to give me one this morning. I’ve been on leave for three days for R and R after my last case.”
 
“Is everything all right at home?”
 
“Well, yes... I think. Why do you ask?”
 
“Because someone close to you is the cause of your problems.”
 
“But, my wife?”
 
No, he knew that if she were mad, she would have said so. She always did.
 
“I’m just trying to come up with clues. Come to think of it… your wife couldn’t get the stuff anyway.”
 
“Are you sure?”
 
“The drug is experimental and classified. My brother is in charge of the lab where they are testing it. He mentioned general things about it to me, like the symptoms you described. It makes people vulnerable, if you will.”
 
“A great weapon against our enemies,” Flint commented.
 
“Yes,” the doctor agreed. “If they are scared they won’t fight us.”

“Where does the drug come from?”
 
“Let’s call my brother and I’ll ask him.”
 
After he entered the number in his phone he pressed the speaker button.
 
“This is a high security phone,” a female voice said. “If you know the security code, enter it now.”
 
The doctor did as asked and the phone started ringing.
 
“What’s up, Red,” a strong voice asked.
 
“Hi, Pert. I am on the speakerphone with a client. I think you might want to hear this.”
 
“Sure, Doctor Kenn.”
 
Flint smiled at the propriety that the voice on the phone all of a sudden showed the psychiatrist, and wondered at the name, Red, that he had used earlier for him.
 
After Kenn summarized the symptoms that Flint was having, he too was in agreement that the drug had been used on him.
 
“What can you tell me about the origin of this drug?” asked Dr. Kenn.
 
“It was shipped from Africa by chartered air in a sealed container, under guard at all times.”
 
“Could someone have obtained some before it came aboard?” Flint queried.
 
“It’s secretly grown there. Not many of us know where. If someone got it from the lab … that’s breach of security and I have to report it.”
 
“I understand, nonetheless, could you give me twenty-four hours to see if I can help resolve this?” Flint hoped.
 
“I’ll see what I can do here at the lab. … That’ll probably take me twenty-four hours.”
 
“Flint, if you discover anything, call me and I’ll pass the information along,” the doctor offered.
 
“I thank you both.”
 
“Please, not a word to anyone,” begged Pert.
 
“I promise,” Flint answered.
 
After leaving the Psychiatrist’s office, Flint tried to think of who else might have been close to him. The case he just finished was a complicated one and he had been assigned a new assistant. The young man was ambitious and thorough. He saw himself when he entered the force twenty-five years ago.
 
“Good morning,” greeted the young blond man from his desk in the corner.
 
Flint answered with a flick of his hand.
 
“The great cahuna wants to see you immediately,” the young man told him in a whisper as he meandered towards the coffee machine.
 
Flint looked through the glass door of the Chief’s office and discovered that she was not alone. A middle-aged man with silvery hair was with her and by their smiles he presumed this was a social call.

“It’s her ex-lover,” the young man whispered, handing him a cup of coffee.
 
“Matt, you’d better watch out. If she finds out that you use her for your morning laugh, she will send you back where you came from,” Flint cautioned him.
 
“Don’t worry about me. … She loves me. Besides, now that I am here, no one is throwing me out.”
 
Flint looked at the young man’s back with mixed feelings. He just realized how arrogant, and disrespectful of his superiors he was, and Flint knew that was not acceptable with this group of agents.
 
Walking to his desk, he ruffled through his mail, sipping his coffee. Just the way he liked it, two sugar cubes and a touch of cream.
 
He opened a memo from the captain and read it carefully. He had forgotten the company party the summer before and had been on the captain’s black list until he finished this last case. He was not going to let it happen again.
 
“Morning, Flint,” the female voice of a middle-aged agent came to his ears.
 
“Morning, Ann.”
 
“Did you see the captain’s memo?”
 
“I was just reading it.”
 
“Good, I don’t want you to mess up again.”
 
“Thanks, you’re a pal.”
 
“See ya.”
 
That was how their department worked. Everyone looked after the others. They were a family and he liked that. How could he even consider that one of them was drugging him?
 
He picked up his coffee, intending to finish it, when his hand stopped abruptly, short of his lips.
 
“Matt!” he called from the entrance to his cubicle.
 
“Yes,” the young man answered.
 
“I’ve been meaning to ask you, how did you land this job?”
 
“A friend o’ my dad told him that many in this office are nearing retirement and he could find place for me here to be in line for a great job.”
 
“That was very lucky for you. … And whose job are you hoping to land?” he smiled friendlily, offering him some candy from his desk.
 
“Anyone’s, though I am not waiting for five years to get it.”
 
“If you did, it’d help you get the experience needed for your new role.”

“Maybe. I am not planning on being a field agent, however. I will only stop when I take her place.”
 
“A good goal, but how’re you going to get there without experience?”
 
“I know how to charm and a few other things that I can’t tell you—professional secrets,” he laughed, leaving Flint alone.
 
The seasoned agent frowned and turned to his computer pad. After a few keystrokes, his monitor brought up Matt’s file.
 
After a moment, “How interesting…” and he dialed his cell phone to hear Miss Flair’s voice a few seconds later.
 
“This is Flint Gart and I need to speak with Doctor Kenn.”
 
“He left instructions to inform him immediately if you called,” she replied, to his relief. He had forgotten to ask for a private number that morning.
 
“Flint, any news?”
 
“I have some questions and need your brother’s help to answer them.”
 
“No problem. What do you have?”
 
“Flint, the boss is waiting for you,” Ann told him a half an hour later.
 
“Thanks, Ann.”
 
“There you are,” the slightly gray-haired woman told him as he entered. “I want you to take the case… Is something wrong? You don’t look well.”
 
“I’m hoping it’s not the flu…”
 
“Get out of here, then, and don’t come back until it’s gone!”
 
‘Well, that went well,’ he thought with an inward smile.
 
His computer was blinking with a message when he got back to his chair and he returned the call.
 
“Flint, its Dr. Kenn. My brother said that Liane Fronker is their main backer. He was presented with a vial of the drug before he would agree to fund the experiments.”
 
“Is that normal procedure with a secret project?”
 
“Not really, but rich people are very eccentric and sometimes they want a sample before they give their money.”
 
“Thank you, that’s a great help.”
 
“He also told me that the drug’s name is 450328 for now. Do you need anything else?”
 
“Tell your brother that I know what happened and the lab is in the clear.”
 
“Good, he will be glad to know that.”
 
“Thank you, Doctor.”
 
“Flint,” Ann’s voice made him turn towards her. “The lab said it was urgent that you get this. What is it, anyway?”
 
“Just my morning coffee.”
 
She handed him a faxed page and left. After reading it, he walked to his boss’s office.
 
“You’re still here?” she asked, putting a handkerchief over her nose and mouth.
 
“I don’t have the flu, chief,” he answered. “I needed some time to get something personal taken care of.”
 
“You lied!?”
 
“I had to.Someone in the office is drugging me and I needed to find out who.”
 
“What...that’s impossible.”
 
After showing her all the evidence and presenting his case, Flint sat and waited for the Chief to finish her calls. Not a word was exchanged, until two men from the Special Forces came in.
 
The chief went to her door to ask Ann to find Matt Fronker for her.
 
“You need me, Chief?” he asked, supposing that Flint had asked for his assistance on the new case.
 
One of the men closed the door and placed himself in front of it.
 
“Matt Fronker, you are under arrest for illegal possession of a secret drug and for using it against a federal agent with the intent to kill.”
 
“What?! What are you talking about? He’s lying.”
 
“You have the right to remain silent,” the other man continued, placing the handcuffs on his wrists. “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law...”