by Ken Dean

Tony’s trump card was a super virus he had put together himself. He had made sure the threat was solid. If it was ever introduced into the computing world, it would render every piece of computing hardware and software world-wide absolutely useless. You would have to talk by old school crank up phone after that. He had a copy that would go out from a hidden server if he didn’t check in once every ninety days. The original DVD was hidden in his home.

“What virus?”

Damn, he thought, I haven’t told anyone about the virus. A secrets a secret if only you know it. Must’ve gotten drunk somewhere and said the wrong thing to the wrong person.

“Don’t mess with me, Tony. It’s either the virus disc or I’ll blow out your crotch with this nine millimeter. Very painful, pus an end to one part of your life. Your call.”

“Okay, okay. Just who are you girls? Well, you I mean; the rest are dead.”

“Let’s just say I’m an entrepreneur, and leave it at that. Your virus would be worth a lot of money to, shall I say, the wrong person?”

“Your name?”

“You can call me Jezebel. Now let’s get moving.’’

“Sure – keep your sword sheathed.”

You could tell she was a professional. The gun was kept just out of arms reach, and she kept Tony in her sight every second.

“It’s here in the study, behind the bookshelf.”

He pushed a book about a quarter inch. The bookshelf receded about two feet.

“You first.”

Tony stepped between the bookcase and wall. The space always smelled a little musty with being closed off most of the time. It was filled with boxes of notes, programming and script printouts, along with a PC work area on a desk at the end.

“Okay. The disk, now!”

“Here it is,” pulling it off a shelf.

He handed the case to her.

“Now go to the far end of the room and sit down with your hands under your butt – and don’t make a move. Don’t forget the crotch warning.”

“Got it,” as he headed to the far side and sat down.

Jezebel took the disk to the other side of the room to examine it.

“I have no way of knowing if this is the true virus disk or not, it’s too dangerous to run it and find out. But a paying customer should have the tech savvy to know the genuine article. If it’s not, I’ll be paying you a return visit. One you won’t live through.”

“Why would I give you a fake? I have a hidden version that will go out on the network if I’m dead. Just make sure you and any customer knows that if I die it would ruin any blackmail attempts on their part. Well, at least you’d get the money, but the world would revert to the 1940’s once the virus went out and destroyed everything above a transistor radio.”

She opened the case to examine the contents. A small amount of white powder puffed out onto her hands.

“What’s this – dust?”

“Not exactly.”

Her hands began to mottle and pustules were forming almost immediately – spreading up her arms as she watched. It felt like she was on fire! 'worse yet, she could feel the skin underneath the surface begin to disconnect from bone and muscle. She dropped the gun to the floor.

“What is this?” she screamed.

“You wanted a virus, you got it. Meet a little friend of mine compliments of the NSA. A fast-spreading, flesh–destroying viral agent. I’ve been immunized, so no worries. It’s my fail-safe in case anyone tries to get the disk. The virus has a very short half-life, so that it will die shortly after you do. In fact, it will decompose all flesh and blood down to dust with no smelly decomposition after effects – more aesthetic that way. DNA is destroyed in the process so that no one will ever know who you were. All I have to do is bring in the vacuum. I’ll be using the virus dust on your dead friends in the living room also. It's a great way to clean up.”

“I’ll kill you, bastard!”

She tried to pick up the Glock, but her hands were too much of a mess to hold it.
The viral agent was up to her shoulders now and she was still screaming. It worked its
way down her throat and across her face and the screaming stopped. All that was heard now was a harsh bubbling. The agent was covering her completely, her body twitching in the throes of death.

Tony picked up the virus disk, reloaded the booby-trap, and placed it back on the shelf. He also picked up the auto Glock; his other life saver.

“God this is gross – I’ll come back and clean up later.”

He walked out through the opening between the bookcase and the wall, shutting it behind him.

“Sneeze ya later, Jezebel.”

***The End***