“I mean, I know I’ve only worked with Wolfe and Cruz for a little over a year, but they seem like the type of people to call a bluff and go all-in.” Morris swiveled away from his computer screen to face Kasim. “Maybe I’m nuts, but I believe them about Elad’s amnesia. I mean, damn, for all we know, Smadi could be full of it instead.”
“Maybe,” Kasim said, but he remained unconvinced. They were missing part of the story. This narrative wasn’t adding up. “We need to find out if Luria had any connections to Gadriel Defense Systems. If so, then we can corroborate Smadi’s claims.”
“One order of ‘missing links’ coming right up,” Morris said.
Despite the analyst’s obnoxiously stubborn sense of humor, Kasim thought he saw a hint of defeat in his eyes. Morris was usually so self-assured. The mere idea that he might not be certain now only made Kasim think the situation was even more hopeless than he had imagined. Morris had been diligently uncovering every bit of intel he could piece together. He hadn’t admitted it, but Kasim was fairly certain he’d exhausted almost every tool at his disposal.
Any missing links the analyst promised to uncover might very well remain missing at this point.
“Keep an eye on Cruz too,” Kasim said. “Run every security camera at every store, airport, and gas station around Beirut for image recognition.”
“I’ll throw all our computational resources at it.”
Kasim wished there was something else he could do. He believed Mossad when they said they were working just as diligently to locate Friedman, Luria, and Cruz. Kasim considered asking his direct superior at USAMRIID, Commander Heidi Liang, for assistance. Maybe he could tap into more intel agencies. After all, the cat was out of the bag about Vector in Mossad. Why not go all in with the intelligence community here?
But even if he let more of his allies in on Vector’s secrets, he had a feeling they couldn’t offer much right now. The cost wouldn’t be worth it.
What they really needed was a breakthrough. Any clue, any lead that might put them on a path forward.
He punched a button on Morris’s desk phone and called the lab. Park picked up.
“Status on your experiments?” Kasim asked.
“We’ve wrapped up the first round of in vitro simulations,” Park said. “Actually, we could use your help. Can you drop by the lab in five? Bring Morris if he’s available too.”
Kasim wasn’t sure what kind of help a grizzled Army colonel like him could offer. But he welcomed the distraction. If there was anything he could do to move their research along, he would be more than happy to contribute.
“I can bring my work with me,” Morris offered.
Minutes later, Kasim was wearing a white bunny suit and safety goggles like the two scientists sitting at chairs in front of a large biosafety cabinet. The room carried its familiar sterile scent along with the constant hum of churning air. A calming piano concerto played from speakers on one of the lab benches. No doubt Weber’s doing. The German-born scientist always played music when she was hard at work or found herself at an impasse. You could usually tell her mood by the choice of genre.
That was Kasim’s first sign that they had discovered something serious. But whether it was a serious breakthrough or a serious dead end remained to be seen.
Morris was seated in a chair just outside the laboratory. The analyst claimed he was an excellent multitasker and could continue his work down here. His eyes traced across his computer screen. They had turned on the intercom system so Morris could be a part of the conversation, but he didn’t seem to be paying any attention to them. Kasim wasn’t sure the man would truly be able to keep trying to track down Skylar while soaking in all the information the scientists had to share. But the analyst had proved Kasim wrong before.
He would welcome it again.
Park reached his gloved hands inside the biosafety cabinet and picked up a small plastic plate hardly bigger than a microscope slide. Inside the plate, a series of small tubes connected two different wells. Each well contained a few milliliters of pink liquid.
That liquid was the cell media. The substance kept the cells inside this experimental device happy and healthy. Kasim had picked up a thing or two while working to stop bioterrorists.
“What did you want me to see?” he asked Park.
Park pointed to the rightmost well on the plate. “In this chamber, we used a 3D bioprinter to fabricate small brain organoids.”
“Basically, it is just a clump of neural cells that mimics real brain tissue,” Weber clarified.
Park pointed at the tubes connecting the well with the brain tissue to the leftmost well. “These tubes represent the vasculature that feeds the brain. We designed it to simulate the blood–brain barrier that keeps pathogens and toxins out of the brain.”
“This is where we inject the Ring of Solomon nanoparticles that Mossad sent us,” Park said, indicating the well on the left. “First things first, the particles have no problem crossing the blood–brain barrier. There is barely any immune response to these things. They’re like ghosts.”
“Does that help us figure out the mode of infection?” Kasim asked.
“Honestly, it could be anything,” Weber said. “The particles are so small, you can ingest them, breathe them in, or inject them and they will find their way right into the brain tissue.”
“Once they are in, they form a ring,” Park said.
Weber flipped on a computer monitor next to the lab bench. It showed a microscope image of the tiny 3D-printed blob of tissue.
“This is our model version of a brain,” she explained.
A tiny, bright-red halo shone inside the clump of tissue. It reminded Kasim of a much smaller version of what they had seen in Cruz and Luria’s brain scans.
“We tagged the nanoparticles with the fluorescent molecules you see here,” Park said. “For our purposes, the fluorescent molecules are a substitute for whatever drugs people are attaching to these particles. If you see the tissue starting to fluoresce green, it means we’ve activated the particles and they’ve released the molecules. Just like we would if those molecules were actually drugs.”
“The mere fact that it was so easy to modify these particles is frightening too,” Weber added.
“Why’s that?” Kasim asked.
“It means whoever has a stock of these particles can add any molecules they want. From drugs to toxins to steroids, it doesn’t matter. These particles are basically freight trains with a ton of empty cars just waiting to take their cargo straight to the brain. And they make it there every time, without fail, always forming this ring.”
“That’s because of the antibodies you mentioned before,” Kasim said, trying to keep up.
“Yes, those antibodies help guide the nanoparticles, telling them what cells they should attach to. The antibodies are designed in such a way that they interact with both the brain tissue and each other, allowing them to make these rings.”
“Almost as if they have a mind of their own,” Kasim remarked.
“Thankfully, they do not,” Weber said. “They are just little particles programmed to do one thing. Form a circle.”
“And carry some kind of molecular cargo,” Kasim added. “What was on those particles Mossad sent us?”
“We confirmed that the particles from Elad Luria’s stock contained a modified combination of paliperidone and adenosine. These drugs have been known to cause catatonia,” Park said. “That would explain how the particles put people in a state of stupor.”
Kasim recalled the myriad of videos where victims of the Ring of Solomon went totally rigid, standing or lying in place like their brains had been plucked from their skulls. Every time it happened, the people responded at once, as if a switch had been flipped.
“Do you know what triggers the release of these drugs from the particles into the neural tissue?” Kasim asked.
“We don’t,” Park said. “That’s where we could use your help. We were kind of hoping that you and Morri
s had some fresh ideas.” Park shot Morris a smile. “Like the werewolf theory.”
“Not a theory, bro,” Morris said from the intercom, not even looking up from his computer. “There’s something triggering these particles. Just like the full moon. Can’t be happening all the time, right? And it’s gotta be controlled by a man-made switch.”
“I’m in full agreement.” Weber waved at the image on the computer screen. “We’ve tried leaving the nanoparticles in place to see if there is some time-release mechanism. We’ve modified the microenvironment to accelerate any material degradation reactions and even applied natural enzymes produced in the human body to see if any of those might trigger the release of the catatonia-causing drugs. But we couldn’t do it.”
“I see.” Kasim studied the fluorescent ring of particles on the computer screen. “So we’re missing the mechanism that triggers the drug release. You mentioned that’s just one of the problems. But what about the violent reactions we saw?”
“We haven’t found evidence of any drugs or other biomolecules in these particles that could elicit that kind of reaction,” Park said.
“Is it possible that these samples just don’t have the molecules that create the pain and anger Cruz described?” Kasim asked.
“That’s certainly one possible explanation,” Weber said. “At this point, it’s difficult to rule that out.”
“Still, if we could find how these particles are triggered, then we could figure out a way to protect people,” Park said. “Even if they get infected, we could prevent the drugs from releasing. All we need to do is identify the biological or chemical trigger and—”
Morris’s voice chimed in over the intercom. “Dude, it’s not biological or chemical.”
Kasim turned to see Morris standing outside the window to the lab. He was holding up a sheet of paper with a crude circle drawn on it, grinning like he’d just sketched the Mona Lisa freehand.
“And I don’t think you’re going to find a drug that’s causing people to go crazy or mad,” Morris continued.
“What do you think, then?” Park asked.
“Those particles form a ring for a reason. It’s a frickin’ antenna.”
Norwegian North Sea
When the blindfolds finally came off, Skylar wasn’t sure they were all that necessary anyway.
She was surrounded by darkness. A cold wind crashed over her, cutting straight through her skin and into her nerves, sending shivers prickling through her flesh. The first few drops of rain dribbled over her skin from what seemed like a storm rolling in. She heard the cry of gulls overhead, their white forms looking like ghosts circling above massive steel pylons.
From every direction, she heard the roar of hungry waves.
It took her a moment to realize where she was. An oil derrick platform.
But where?
After she had succumbed to that paralyzing agent in Beirut, finally unable to hold on to her own consciousness, she remembered nothing until waking up to the unmistakable beat of helicopter rotors. The sound and feel of the chopper engines had made her think for a moment she was back in the Marines. Somewhere in the Sandbox flying an escort mission. Providing air support.
But this time, she wasn’t in the pilot seat. Her hands had been tied behind her back and still were. Plus, her head hurt something fierce. A stabbing pain throbbed behind her eyes.
Damn drugs. She just hoped that drugs were all that was responsible for the pain. Last thing she wanted was to be injected with those particles again.
As she blinked, eyes adjusting to her surroundings, she saw she was standing in front of a set of stairs spiraling down from the helipad to the rest of the oil derrick. Elad and Friedman were beside her. In front of them was Ballard, dressed in a suit. He waved at three men near a doorway leading into the derrick’s superstructure. They rushed over, cradling rifles, and surrounded Skylar and the two Mossad agents as the engine of the chopper wound down.
“If these three even look like they’re going to run, you shoot them,” Ballard shouted to the three gunmen.
Skylar blinked past the rivulets of water trickling down her face. Shit. Things were worse than she thought.
Not only was Ballard a traitor, he was in charge.
Even more frightening than this treacherous bastard’s actions were the shapes of the antiaircraft batteries, machine guns, and other weapons shielded by camouflaged netting around the deck.
This was definitely no ordinary oil-drilling operation.
It was a fortress.
With the gunmen escorting them, Ballard led the group into the superstructure and down a set of creaking metal stairs.
Skylar was surprised Ballard had even allowed her and the others to live. Why hadn’t he just left them back in Beirut or pushed them out of the chopper so they could be a meal for a few hungry sharks?
She feared that whatever the answer to that question was, she would soon find out. Skylar guessed there was a damn good chance she would prefer the sharks compared to whatever Ballard had in store for them.
They entered a wide corridor lined with pipes. Lights hung from the ceiling, swinging slightly as the platform swayed from the storm. As they traveled down the hall, their feet clanging on the floor, people walked by wearing everything from business suits to gray-and-navy camouflaged fatigues or white lab coats. Open doorways showed what looked to be offices and communications centers. Places that would make Mission Control in Houston feel like an elementary school’s computer lab.
The place was a hive of activity.
And every time they passed someone, Skylar watched them swerve out of Ballard’s way, avoiding his gaze.
Yeah, this guy was definitely in charge.
“In there,” Ballard said, indicating a heavy steel door.
A gunman punched a code on the keypad as Skylar watched. The door hissed open and let them in, a cold blast of air billowing around them, chilling Skylar’s wet skin. The remaining two gunmen pushed Skylar, Elad, and Friedman forward into a new chamber. The door slammed shut automatically behind them.
A wave of sickness swept through her as she studied the scene inside the room. Nothing could have prepared her for what she was seeing now.
Shit, I definitely would’ve taken the sharks.
Dozens of people with cuffs around their ankles filled the room. Those cuffs were attached to chains secured around metal stanchions. They appeared lethargic. Malnourished. Standing around like they’d been knocked on the head with a bat but forgot to pass out from the blow.
But their stupor wasn’t what made her want to vomit. It was the fact that every one of them was missing a chunk of skull on the top of their head about the size of Skylar’s fist. The pink, red, and gray of their brains glistened under the lights.
And every one of those brains had what appeared to be a sparkling silver halo stained into the folds of tissue.
“What in the hell are you doing to these people?” Skylar asked.
“Surely by now you know,” Ballard said. “You said it yourself. This is the Ring of Solomon.”
“And you’re supposed to be Solomon?” Skylar asked. “You’re a liar. A traitor to your own country.”
“A liar, maybe.” Ballard stepped toward Skylar, pushing past the gunmen. “But you’ve seen what the Ring particles can do. We don’t need to risk the lives of our men and women on the streets to stop a violent mob.”
“The protesters in Beirut weren’t violent,” Skylar said. “Until the Ring of Solomon made them that way.”
“But the key is that the Ring works,” Ballard said. “And we’re constantly improving it. People are clamoring for this type of innovation. I was supposed to show these particles off to a few buyers in Beirut. Then you three showed up right when I was leaving Martyrs’ Square to meet up with them. So I’m going to need your help to make up for the inconvenience.”
He motioned to the gunmen then pointed at Friedman. The Mossad agent struggled against their grip. One of them slammed t
he stock of his rifle against Friedman’s forehead. Skin split in a deep red gash. Friedman stumbled forward, dazed. The gunmen locked a chain and restraints around his ankle then secured them to a stanchion beside the other prisoners.
“Stop it,” Skylar said. “This is insane.”
Ballard ignored her.
“What are you doing with us?” Elad asked.
“You of all people… to ask that question…” Ballard glared at Elad.
“This is a crime against humanity,” Elad said.
Ballard laughed. “It’s better for humanity.”
“You and Dr. Smadi can’t keep this up,” Skylar said. “You might as well shut this operation down. Get out of here while you can.”
Ballard stepped toward Skylar, eyes narrowed. “Smadi is no longer a part of this operation. He didn’t like our new direction.” Then he folded his arms across his chest. “I pegged you for an intel officer, but whatever intel you think you have isn’t all that good. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”
Skylar wasn’t sure what that meant, but she had to push him. Get him to talk more. This was a guy with his head so far up his own ass he probably liked the taste of his own shit. Men like that were easy to manipulate into spilling their guts.
“The Ring of Solomon shouldn’t exist,” she said. “No matter how much you try to convince yourself otherwise, you’re on the side of the bad guys. Instead of helping us, helping your own country track down illegal chemical weapons, you’re hurting those you took an oath to protect. You’re working for the people making this crap.”
“Working for?” he asked, brow raised. He let out a cruel laugh. “This is my company. I built this without the Agency realizing a damned thing. They certainly weren’t going to make use of the intel I gathered.”
Ballard’s position in the CIA hadn’t just given him cover in the Middle East. It also gave him the opportunity to monitor the very trade routes he was probably using to distribute the Ring of Solomon weapons.
“You realize this is just the start of your collapse,” she said. “It was a mistake for you to bring us here.”
Demon Mind (Vector Book 2) Page 27