Extinction Code

by James D. Prescott

  The space was tight. Both of the armed men next to Stark removed their helmets.

  “This is Commander Hart,” Stark said. Athletic and deceptively powerful for his size, Hart sported a goatee with twisted edges, reminiscent of a gunslinger from the old west. The rest of his face had the sunbaked look of a surfer.

  Stark pushed a few scientific instruments out of the way and placed his briefcase on the table. “And this here is Lieutenant Olsen.”

  The two men couldn’t have been more opposite. While Hart was average height and wiry, Olsen was well over six foot two and stout. He was also a shade lighter, except for patches around the eyes where he wore his Oakley sunglasses. Unlike Hart, Olsen was neatly shaved, giving his face a youthful appearance.

  “They’re Navy SEALs,” Stark said, letting the announcement hang in the air.

  “I know all about the SEALs,” Jack said, cutting him off. “When I was a kid, I read everything I could about Kennedy’s time in office. For a while I couldn’t decide between a career in the Navy or as a geophysicist.”

  Stark grinned. “No regrets, I hope, Dr. Greer.”

  “Only on days like today,” Jack said. He was trying his best to keep cool, but all he could think about was the object they’d seen down below. More than that, he couldn’t help wondering what the military would do if they found out.

  At last, Gabby arrived, swinging open the large metal door. “There are soldiers in the infirmary…” she began before she saw Stark and the others. “The hell is going on here?”

  “That’s precisely what we’d like to know,” Stark replied, introducing himself and the SEALs.

  Gabby shuffled past them and over to where Jack was standing, holding her elbows.

  “While this rig might be your office, mine is sailing a few miles from here. It’s called the USS Dwight D. Eisenhower and it’s surrounded by an entire carrier strike group. We’re in the area on orders from the President, tasked with stopping a Communist state from illegally expanding its borders.”

  “You’re talking about Cuba building those artificial islands,” Jack offered.

  “You betcha,” Stark replied. “And who do you think they learned that little trick from? Well, it might work in the South China Sea, but it sure as hell ain’t gonna happen in our own backyard, not on my watch. So if it’s all the same to you, I intend to take that aviator into custody.”

  “Aviator,” Gabby said, confused. “Have you been listening to our calls?”

  “Not us, ma’am,” Commander Hart said. “The NSA.”

  “And if we say no?” Jack replied, wondering why Stark was even bothering to ask. Especially given Fuentes had likely been loaded onto the chopper already. “I didn’t save this guy so you could use him in some game of international diplomacy.”

  “Fuentes won’t be harmed,” Stark assured them, collecting his briefcase from the table. “But we will be taking credit for the rescue.”

  Jack shook his head. “I don’t give a crap about credit.”

  “Thank you both for your understanding then, and your time,” Stark said. He turned and took two purposeful steps toward the container door, both SEALs in tow, before stopping. “Oh, there’s one other thing.”

  The muscles in Jack’s jaw tightened. “This is a scientific research expedition. We’ve had no contact with the Cubans, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “No,” Stark assured them. “But I am worried about this.” He set the briefcase back down, removed a piece of paper and handed it to Jack and Gabby.

  It was a graph with a giant spike along the Y axis.

  “What am I looking at?” Jack asked, a feeling of dread creeping up his throat.

  “A gift, this one from our friends at NASA,” Stark explained. He swung his arm in circles above him. “One of those fancy satellites they have floating around up there. Designed to detect gamma ray bursts. You science types probably know more about those than I do.”

  Also sometimes referred to as cosmic rays, GRBs were high-energy photons originating from outside of the solar system and in many cases outside the galaxy. Since their discovery in the mid-sixties, astrophysicists had suspected GRBs were caused by supernovae or the collision of two neutron stars. A single gamma ray photon was a million times more energetic than a regular photon. Luckily for us, the earth’s ozone layer filtered most of the harmful radiation they carried, although astronauts had been particularly vulnerable.

  “I know what they are,” Gabby told them. “It’s my field, but I don’t see how that has anything…” Her gaze wandered away from the rear admiral’s face and up to the ceiling, a habit she had whenever her mind was working overtime.

  “Did either of you experience any flashing lights recently?”

  Jack shook his head while Gabby nodded yes. They looked at one another.

  The smile was back on Stark’s lips. “Of course you experienced it. Remember the spike on that graph I showed you? Well the folks at NASA started crunching some numbers and calculated the point the burst originated from as well as how far out it reached.” Stark handed them another piece of paper.

  Jack stared down, his fingers feeling numb. He wasn’t sure whether he felt more frightened or shocked. The picture Stark handed them showed a satellite image of the Yucatán Peninsula. Superimposed over that was an area of effect which reached as far south as Brazil and as far north as the United States. Directly in the center of the blast circle was the rig.

  The gamma ray explanation made sense. Jack remembered watching a program in which astronauts reported flashes of light whenever cosmic rays impacted their optic nerves.

  The joy drained from Stark’s face. “First things first, I need to know what kind of experiments you folks are running here. After that I’ve got orders to shut you down and ship you all back to the United States.”

  “Fat chance,” Jack protested. “We’re not going anywhere. And we didn’t create any gamma ray burst.”

  “That’s too bad,” Stark said, shaking his head and closing his briefcase shut with a snap.

  Gabby stepped forward. “Too bad? What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Her concern was obvious and well-warranted. They were on the threshold of perhaps the greatest scientific discovery in human history. And here they were watching it get snatched away. It was beyond infuriating.

  “I had hoped you two might be able to shed some light on something else the NASA folks told us.”

  Jack shook his head, utterly confused. “About the gamma ray, you mean?”

  Admiral Stark nodded. “Yes, those eggheads at NASA claim to have detected some kind of binary code embedded in the signal.”

  Chapter 11

  Mia returned to the hotel, feeling like a sponge wrung dry. The lobby, slippery with white tiles, was empty except for a tired-looking clerk behind the desk. Mia had come to Brazil to study craniofacial anomalies in the hopes of developing preventions and perhaps even treatments that might offer hope to individuals and families struck by the genetic disorder. But that wasn’t the whole story, was it?

  The truth was, Mia had spent the last four years of her life clawing her way out of an abyss of pain pills and dark depression. The agony of hearing those words, even when they were only in her head, still seared like a hot knife. Invariably, addiction was a self-defeating condition. And on an intellectual level, she understood that now, along with the reality that the more we tried to deny the truth of who we were and what we had done, the more we empowered the negative forces which got us into trouble in the first place. It didn’t help that substance abuse and the ravages of addiction had been prevalent themes in her early childhood.

  Earlier, she had told Scott she had quit the lab, but technically speaking that hadn’t been entirely accurate. She and Alan had slept together, a personal tidbit she did not think was any of Scott’s business. And it wasn’t long after that Alan had fired her. He was nearly thirty years older than her and certainly not her type. But there was something about
a man at the top of his game that was irresistible, intoxicating. She’d had a husband who loved her and a daughter who worshipped the ground she walked on. What had she been missing? Clearly nothing.

  It had started and ended at a conference. One second they were at the bar drinking mojitos, dreaming about the Nobel Prize for Physiology or Medicine and laughing their heads off. The next thing she knew she was waking up in his hotel room without a stitch of clothing on. The feeling had been surreal and incredibly disturbing, much like the way she was feeling now.

  Alan had stood over her, buttoning his shirt. “You were a naughty girl last night.” His voice was deep and resonating.

  Mia’s face had twisted with shame. What on earth had she done? A question she meant quite literally. What had happened the night before? She posed the question to Alan, who only chuckled and leaned in to brush the back of his fingers against her cheek. When she recoiled, she saw a flash of anger in his eyes.

  “I hope you’re not going to go all bitchy on me now,” he said, his normally melodic tone menacing.

  She felt tears struggling past her eyelids and squelched them back. “After the bar I don’t remember a thing. How we got back to your room.” She knew they’d been having a fun time, but she’d been anxious to get back to her own room to call Paul and Zoey and wish them a good night. How had it ended up like this?

  Alan held out a hand to help her up. She hesitated. He wiggled his fingers encouragingly. She accepted and he pulled her onto her feet and into his arms. Mia placed her palms against his chest and pushed away as he pulled her closer to him.

  “Whatever happened last night,” she said, finally breaking free, “was a mistake.”

  Alan shook his head and grinned. “I remember exactly what happened.” He centered his index finger over his lips. “Don’t worry, it’ll be our little secret.”

  Mia felt her stomach turn in a slow, lazy circle. Alan’s threat was as apparent as the tufts of hair pushing out the top of his shirt. Between the two of them, she had the most to lose. Alan’s wife was buried up at Oakwood and he was a distinguished researcher. Her entire career lay before her, while at home she had a beautiful family who waited impatiently for her return.

  She had thrown on the few articles of clothing she could find and run from the room, hot tears streaming down her cheeks. The next few days had been spent trying to pull herself together. Had she suffered a serious lapse in judgment lubricated by a few too many mojitos? Or had Alan put something in her drink? Mia never found out, but one thing was certain. She would never make either mistake again.

  In spite of her disturbing encounter with Alan at the conference, it was shortly afterward that she had made the breakthrough on the human artificial chromosome. The greatest challenge had been integrating DNA into the new structure. Once that challenge had been overcome it now meant the new synthetic chromosome could be loaded with as many genes as needed. Turning that corner had been a major turning point not only for Mia but for the future of gene therapy.

  Only days later, while she’d been sitting at home watching the news one night, a story had come on detailing her breakthrough. But to her utter astonishment, Alan had been the one to call the press conference, using it as an opportunity to take all the credit for himself. Mia wasn’t out for glory, but since it had been her work which had led to the breakthrough, the idea of holding a press conference behind her back felt unconscionable. Her repeated calls that night had gone straight to his voicemail. As a result, it was only the following day at the lab that she’d let him have it. But Alan wasn’t the kind of man who did well being lectured by those he felt were beneath him.

  She’d soon found herself out of a job. That part hadn’t been terribly surprising. But what came next had shocked her to the core. An anonymous email dripping with lies had arrived in Paul’s inbox, informing him that Alan and Mia had been having an affair for years.

  That evening, Paul had confronted her, demanding to know if it was true. She came clean about the night at the conference, tried to explain there were stretches of time she couldn’t account for, but he was convinced she was downplaying her involvement. He saw and resented how much she admired Alan. Had been suspicious for months that there was more to their relationship than she was willing to admit. And now all of his concerns were proving right. He left with Zoey that very night to stay with his parents in South Carolina. Five days later, despondent and feeling like all she wanted was to fall asleep and never wake up again, Mia had been served with divorce papers.

  It was following that little bombshell that the pills had entered the picture: OxyContin, Xanax, Vicodin. Anything to hold back the crushing torment tearing at her soul. By the time she got picked up for driving under the influence and wrapping her Hyundai hatchback around a light post, Mia’s life had already hit rock bottom.

  “Missus Ward,” a distant voice called out to her as she waited for the elevator.

  A hand touched her shoulder and she jumped with fright.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Missus Ward,” the front desk attendant said, backing away. “This package came for you earlier today.” He glanced down at the label. “Overnight delivery.”

  He handed her a fat brown paper parcel with her name on it. To the care of Dr. Mia Ward. Stenciled in dark capital letters on the top and bottom was the word FRAGILE. The white packing slip had the initials AS and an address in Richmond, Virginia.

  Mia thought of the two missed calls she’d received from Alan earlier. After everything he’d done, what possible reason could he have for sending her this package? He had to know she’d be tempted to dump it in the Amazon. So why take that chance? Whatever was going on, it had to be serious.

  Chapter 12

  Mia hurried to her hotel room and locked the door once inside. She leaned back, the hard wood pressing into her spine. With trembling hands, Mia studied the parcel.

  This afternoon, after she saw Alan had tried to call her, Mia had swallowed as much of the anger and loathing as she could and dialed him back a dozen times. But each new call had ended the same as the last. Alan never answered and she hadn’t bothered leaving a message.

  Some sort of medical emergency was sweeping large parts of North and South America, one she didn’t understand just yet. But her gut told her it had something to do with Salzburg syndrome, the disorder Alan’s lab had catalogued a few years back. If speaking with a sworn enemy might help her patients, perhaps even save lives, then she was perfectly willing to bite the bullet and see what he could tell her.

  Bounding over to the table, she fished out a small pocket knife from her knapsack and used the three-inch blade to slice through reams of clear packing tape. Clearly Alan had been paranoid the ends of the envelope might tear open in transit. He must have also paid a handsome price to have it shipped overnight to Brazil. It spoke volumes, especially for a notoriously cheap guy who’d once demanded that lab technicians provide their own latex gloves.

  Mia finished cutting through the tape and set the knife down on the table. She froze. How was it that Alan knew she was here? Had he contacted the WHO headquarters and used his considerable pull within the medical research community to locate her? Or had one of their mutual colleagues said something, not realizing the extent of the bad blood between them?

  With the package now open, Mia stuck a hand inside the thick, bubble-wrapped envelope and brought out a digital voice recorder. Next she found a notebook. Wiggling the empty envelope, Mia heard something rattling around at the bottom. Her hand disappeared inside once again, only to emerge a second later with a USB key. Certain now she had everything, she fired up her laptop and plugged the USB into the port. At once, a username and password screen popped up.

  She stared at it, her uncertainty quickly morphing into annoyance. This was so Alan to send her an encrypted USB. What was the point of sending her this stuff if she couldn’t access it?

  When she flipped open the diary, two words in black marker were etched on the inside cover.

&nb
sp; Play recorder.

  She did as instructed. Soon, Alan’s radio-quality voice filled the room. Except he sounded awfully strange, speaking quickly, tripping over his words, as though he had a lot to say and no time to say it in.

  “Mia, I need you to listen very carefully to what I’m about to tell you. As soon as this recording is done, I want you to fill the sink in your bathroom and toss this recorder in.

  “I know I’m the last person on earth you want to hear from, but there’s no one else I can turn to. The package you’re holding contains an explosive discovery that has put my life and the lives of those around me in danger. I don’t have time to go into detail, but here’s all you need to know. Salzburg syndrome is not what we thought it was. It was manufactured and not by us. The chromatid’s DNA holds the proof of what I’m saying, a secret message written by those who created it.

  “Please keep the material safe until things here cool down. I’ll contact you in a few days. And Mia, above all else, trust no one.”

  Mia swallowed hard, her heart hammering against the walls of her chest. All the moisture in her mouth was gone. What on earth was she to make of this? An encrypted USB and a story about some message hidden inside the DNA of a rare genetic disorder? She got up, steadying herself on a pair of wobbly legs. The digital recorder was still in her hand. She headed for the bathroom, intent on doing as Alan had suggested and dunking it under water. If he really was in danger, why would he involve her? Didn’t she already have enough on her plate to deal with? It was true that at the lab he’d often called her his protégée. Maybe he wasn’t sure who he could trust anymore.

  Mia dumped the recorder in the sink and began filling it with water. It had reached the halfway mark when she heard a knock at her hotel room door.

  A jolt of fear sent a rippling current coursing along every nerve ending. She skulked to the door, glancing through the peep hole. The man on the other side was wearing a hotel clerk’s uniform, but she didn’t recognize his face. After his second knock went unanswered, he scanned both ends of the hallway and produced an electronic room key, inserting it into the slot. Mia heard a click, followed by the sound of the handle being turned. He was trying to get in. But she had locked the bolt. That was when he swore and sent the heel of his boot thudding into the door. The water from the sink had begun to overflow, spilling onto the floor. Mia screamed, her feet slipping on the wet tiles as she recoiled.