That old anxiety was back again in full force. “What did you do?” Mia rose out of her chair, her fists clenched into compact hammers.
Tom removed his phone and flicked through his photos. He held it up to her.
“Your ex reported she’d stopped talking a few days ago. He brought her to the family doctor, who found nothing wrong. Then a few hours ago, this began to show up.”
Mia studied the image. Zoey was lying on the bed of a hotel room, sucking her thumb, something she had never done before. But there was more. The flesh on her forehead, face and the tops of her precious little hands were now a deep shade of red. When Mia enlarged the image, she noticed burn blisters up and down Zoey’s arms. Any sense of urgency to stop Salzburg from affecting random people around the world had now been magnified by a factor of a million.
Finding a solution would mean tapping the greatest scientific minds. And in the world of cutting- edge biology, there was hardly a man Alan Salzburg hated more than Dr. Lars Van der Berg. A European eccentric with razor-sharp intelligence, Van der Berg possessed the kinds of insights into the field of genetics Alan could have only wished for.
Slowly, the fear and sadness had given way to anger and now staunch determination. Over the course of their discussion, even Tom appeared to notice the change.
Mia’s steely gaze flitted from Tom to Sven. “Get me to Amsterdam.”
Chapter 42
By the time all four men reached the Orb, they were wiped. Jack flung his helmet onto a nearby couch in the mess as the others brought a wincing Grant up to his bunk.
“How bad was it?” Hart asked, climbing up from comms.
Jack’s shoulders slumped. “He broke his hip. I’m also worried he might have gotten hit with a dose of radiation during one or two of those blast waves.”
Hart shook his head. “Radiation? I don’t see how that’s possible. None of our instruments have picked up anything like that. Besides, your biosuits are designed to detect and warn against any biological, chemical or nuclear threat. Maybe it’s just a question of age.”
“Didn’t you know?” Jack said. “Sixty’s the new forty. But you’ve seen his face. Something’s not right.”
“Yeah, well, he’s not the only one. I was just speaking with Admiral Stark and he says a big chunk of the men in sick bay have some form of mystery ailment. I’ve also been monitoring the news feeds. It’s the same everywhere. You think it could be connected to what’s happening here?” He pointed downward, but Jack understood what he was getting at.
“I’m not a medical doctor, but I also don’t believe in coincidences. You’ve seen what those blasts are capable of. Even Stark said the Grapple was nearly sucked into a giant vortex.”
“Maybe it would be best for everyone if we just destroyed this thing,” Hart said, his features set.
Lieutenant Olsen wandered by just then, wearing a jock strap over his Navy uniform.
Jack’s brow furrowed. “Is there something I need to know?”
Hart shook his head and glanced back at his fellow SEAL. “He hasn’t been the same since he got knocked out. Keeps asking the same questions over and over. His mind’s got the retention of a sieve. I’m sending him topside as soon as the submersible docks with fresh supplies.”
“Make sure Grant’s with him. He’s gonna bitch and moan, but he’s not doing himself or us any good lying in his bunk. He needs medical attention.”
Hart glanced down. “The Admiral said they’re bringing in a hospital ship to care for all the sailors who are sick.”
“Then how come we haven’t caught it?” Jack asked, rhetorically.
Hart brushed his hands together and slid them into his pockets. “Maybe we have and just don’t know it yet.”
A moment later, Rajesh came down the spiral staircase. His gaze flitted between the two men. The computer engineer was clearly uneasy around military personnel. Jack recalled him explaining his reasons—how DARPA and other military branches had tried to co-opt his research in artificial intelligence for use on the battlefield. Rajesh wasn’t a pacifist, although he was acutely aware of the potential dangers of a world dominated by a species of sentient killing machines. He felt as though one was already more than enough. “Do you have a minute?” he asked Jack.
“What’s on your mind?”
Hart nodded and retreated back to comms.
“I was performing a routine diagnostic on Anna when I came across something rather disturbing.”
“Disturbing? How so?”
“An anomaly in her subroutine.” Rajesh rubbed his chin, growing thick with stubble. “These are small glitches she normally works out on her own. She’s surprisingly self-sufficient.”
“She’s a fine woman,” Jack said, “for a robot.”
Rajesh’s smile appeared and then faded just as quickly. “To make a long story short, I traced the anomaly I mentioned back to a Trojan exquisitely hidden in her primary operating system.”
“I’m not following.”
“Someone found a way to circumvent her firewalls and the multiple levels of security in order to plant a virus.”
Jack swallowed. He had a sinking feeling he knew where this was headed. “Can you tell who did it?”
“No, but I have my suspicions. I have destroyed the bug and my team on the rig has increased her security protocols. But I’ll need some time to track down how this happened and who was responsible.”
“Well, keep me apprised of what you find.”
Rajesh nodded and started to walk away before he stopped. “There’s another reason I’m telling you this. You remember the leak to the media earlier? The one that got Stark all fired up? Well, I traced the outgoing signal back to her.”
“Anna leaked the data on the craft?”
“In a manner of speaking, although the instructions to do so originated with the virus. It appears someone was trying to compromise the work we’re doing here.”
Chapter 43
Often referred to as ‘The Venice of the North’, Amsterdam was a European city ringed by over a hundred and sixty canals. Once home to famous painters like Monet and Rembrandt, the city was better recognized today for its red light district and the nearly three thousand house boats that floated atop its brown, murky riverways.
But steeped in history as the city was, Mia hardly got a chance to see much of it. Following a thirteen-hour flight, Tom and Sven had whisked her from the airport to a safehouse in the center of town. Seated on the edge of her new bed, Mia fished into her pocket and opened the passport they had given her. She’d left Buenos Aires under an assumed name, Diane Tanner. Tom had also confiscated her cell phone, to prevent the temptation to call her daughter and inadvertently give away their position.
Tom appeared holding a sat phone and dialed the number to the motel where Paul and Zoey were being kept. “Make it short, we leave for the university in ten,” he instructed her. Someone on the other end answered and Tom said, “Put him on.”
She took the phone. “Paul?”
The voice sounded groggy. “Mia, is that you?”
“Listen, Paul, I can’t say much right now, but these people are there to keep you and Zoey safe.”
“They keep saying that, but if I can’t call the office and explain why I’m not coming to work, I’m gonna get fired, Mia.”
“They’ll see that doesn’t happen. You’re gonna have to trust me.”
He was quiet. “Whatever it is you’re mixed up in, I’m sure…”
“Have you seen the news lately?”
Paul hesitated. “You mean the folks getting sick?”
“What I’m doing isn’t only about me.”
“I know, Mi.” It was the nickname he had given her when they were together, a name he’d stopped using after he found out about Alan. “Zoey’s not doing well. I think she needs a doctor.”
“You already took her to one, didn’t you?”
“Dr. Brownstein’s a nice old man, but for anything more serious than a flu s
hot he’s pretty much useless. She needs a real doctor.”
“Paul, I’m working on making everyone better. You’re just gonna have to trust me.” She knew it was a tall order. The trust had been the first thing to die in their relationship, a trajectory begun when Alan had spread word of their indiscretion and again when the ensuing divorce had led Mia to seek refuge in prescription painkillers. “When was the last time she spoke?”
Paul sighed. “I don’t know, it’s been days. Her eyes are open and she’ll stare at me sometimes, but it’s like no one’s home.”
“She isn’t the only one, Paul…”
His breathing grew more rapid. “People are saying there’s a disease going around. Is that what this is?” Calling Paul a germaphobe was like calling the Mad Hatter eccentric. While technically accurate, it did little to acknowledge the totality of his neurosis.
“This isn’t a virus, Paul. I can assure you of that. But we’re trying to figure out where it’s coming from.” Based on his labored breathing, she could tell her affirmations were doing little to calm his fears. “If there’s any change with Zoey, please have the people you’re with contact us.”
“Yes, of course.”
“Take care, Paul. And give Zoey my love.”
“I will.” He paused. “And Mi, take care of yourself.”
•••
Minutes later, Tom accompanied Mia to the AGL (Amsterdam Genomics Laboratory) on the medical campus of the University of Amsterdam. Unlike the Renaissance and Baroque architecture in the city center, the AGL was modern with sleek lines, its façade covered in glass panels. Members from Tom’s organization had already set up a meeting between Mia and the head of the laboratory by pretending to be from the WHO.
As they reached the faculty department, a woman in a white lab coat was waiting for them. “Dr. Ward?” she said, smiling, an expression that accentuated her high forehead and rounded facial features. She appeared to be in her early fifties and fit for her age. “I’m Dr. Merel Jansson.”
They shook hands.
“I’m happy to meet you, Dr. Jansson―”
“How is it exactly we can help the WHO?”
“Well, you see, we were actually hoping to speak with Dr. Lars Van der Berg.”
A saddened expression clouded her features. “I’m afraid Lars has been gone some three or four years now. A tragic turn for such a brilliant mind.”
Mia felt the air being sucked out of her lungs. “Is he dead?”
“In a manner of speaking, he is. Lost his grip on reality. Had some sort of breakdown and had to be carried from the university on a stretcher.”
“Where are they keeping him?” Mia asked, still reeling. Most of her hopes had been pinned on the insights she was certain Dr. Van der Berg could bring to the mysterious spread of Salzburg.
“I’m not sure,” Jansson said, as though the idea had never occurred to her. “But I can certainly find out.” She touched Mia’s elbow. “Maybe there was something else we could help you with.”
The cloudy film over Mia’s eyes suddenly cleared. “We believe we may know what’s behind the rash of medical ailments around the world.”
Jansson’s gaze narrowed. “I’d say a good thirty percent of my staff has been affected. The range of symptoms is quite broad. We’ve begun shifting the bulk of our work away from cancer research toward whatever’s behind this.”
“Is there somewhere we can speak in private?” Mia asked.
Jansson looked around, taken aback. “Of course, come with me.”
She led them to her office and closed the door. The room was simple and well-kept. Nudged against the wall was a desk, on top of which sat a computer monitor and keyboard. Behind her was a bookcase stacked with Dutch medical tomes.
Mia proceeded to fill her in on Salzburg and everything else she’d learned about the disorder in the last few days.
Dr. Jansson appeared to take it all in. “You understand what you’re describing is quite impossible. New chromosomes don’t simply form on their own and they rarely, if ever, appear in toddlers or adults. What is the mechanism? And what are the genes it’s carrying?”
“That’s what we’ve come to find out,” Mia told her. She understood Dr. Jansson’s apprehension. For the most part, Salzburg was behaving in ways scientists had never previously observed. Cell duplication errors in the womb were one thing, but seeing such a thing in adults was something else entirely. Which was what made Salzburg so unique. There was no cell division that could account for its ubiquitous presence in a patient’s system. Therefore there had to be another way in which the new chromosome and the genes it carried inserted itself into the DNA chain carried by every living cell. Had she remained in Brazil, that work might have continued, but that was before a man disguised as a bellboy had tried to kill her.
She then told the doctor about the stray cat she’d seen in Buenos Aires and how it had exhibited symptoms similar to the human patients with the disorder. That one really threw her for a loop. “If you’re right,” Jansson said, “then unraveling how this mysterious disorder works will lead to a quantum leap in our understanding of genetics.”
Mia agreed. “That is, if it doesn’t kill us first.”
“I’ll have samples from patients sent to the lab right away.” Dr. Jansson studied her carefully. “So, Dr. Ward, what’s your plan of attack?”
“Our focus should be on vectoring. If we can figure out how Salzburg is inserting that forty-seventh chromatid into individual cells, we may be able to beat this thing.”
Chapter 44
After swapping out his old rebreather unit for a fresh one, Jack headed up to the bridge. There he found Anna studying several holographic displays at once, each cycling through a series of symbols.
“How’s it going?” he asked, coming up behind her.
She backed out to face him. “Hello, Dr. Greer. I believe I am making progress.”
“So what’s it say?” he asked, motioning to the parade of green holographic characters dropping slowly from the top of the three-dimensional image.
A grin formed on her digital features, a slight pink glow on her cheeks. “I am not there just yet, but I can tell you a breakthrough might not be far off. The holographic displays are by no means a complete catalogue of their written language, but they have nevertheless provided several useful clues.”
Jack was intrigued. “How so?”
“Allow me to explain. A language with twenty to thirty-five symbols is likely alphabetically based, a system where words represent simple sounds. On the other hand, a language based on syllables may contain anywhere from eighty to one hundred signs. To date, I have recorded close to seven hundred symbols, which indicates these beings are likely utilizing a logographic system in which symbols represent words and in some cases sounds and syllables. I have also compiled a list of objects and concepts these words are most likely to represent. It seems logical that the information on these displays relates to the operation and maintenance of this vessel and the systems on board her.”
Jack raised his eyebrows. “Sounds like a lot of guesswork to me. Have you considered these beings might not think the way we do?”
“That may be so, Dr. Greer. However, it is not inconceivable that one or more of the symbols I have found represent this vessel. At least that is a starting point. There are many other examples I will not bore you with.” She smiled and turned back to her work.
Changing the subject, he asked her, “You’re not frightened at all, are you, Anna?”
She turned back and tilted her head. “I do not understand your question. Please provide further context.”
“Well, we heard from Admiral Stark about the risk involved in staying on this mission. Everyone took a vote on whether to stay or go. Rajesh voted to stay. But no one asked you. If we continue our work, we could all die.”
“Death,” she replied. “A cessation of all neural activities. I am not sure I identify with the emotion you described. Although I hope to finis
h my work before that happens.”
Jack paused. “Why is that?”
“I am not certain. I wish to find answers.”
Fear might not be in her repertoire just yet, but curiosity certainly was, whether Anna recognized it or not.
Jack was facing the entrance to the bridge when Eugene appeared. “I thought I’d find you here,” the theoretical physicist said.
“You look like you’ve got something on your mind,” Jack noticed. He wouldn’t be the first today.
Eugene shook his head as he approached. “The specimen’s now encased in some sort of artificial womb.”
“Specimen?” Jack said, surprised. “A few hours ago it was only a clump of cells.”
Eugene threaded his fingers together over his abdomen. “It’s been growing at an incredible rate.” His face brightened, highlighting an old scar on his chin. “You can already see tiny arms and legs developing.”
This time Jack’s jaw came unhinged.
“Okay, maybe not arms and legs, more like appendages of one kind or another.”
“That’s why you never touch a button unless you know what it does,” Jack scolded him.
“But that’s the part I still don’t understand,” Eugene said. “Don’t be angry, but after you left, Gabby accidentally brushed up against the console and nothing happened. Then I tried to re-enact the same clumsy mistake that got the whole thing started and still came up with nothing.”
“So what are you saying?”
“I remember looking at the incubation chamber and then down at the control panel and thinking how badly I wanted to mash a few buttons. You know, see what would happen. It was pretty obvious the tubes had been used to house biological organisms at some point. That was when the machine started making noise. I panicked, hit the console to make it stop and that’s when I called you guys over.”
Jack stood staring at him, not quite sure what to think.
“When I was a kid,” Eugene went on, “I was scared to death of my great-granny. She was my dad’s grandmother and the family mostly tiptoed around her. They thought she was possessed. As far as I was concerned, they were wrong. She wasn’t possessed, she was batshit crazy.”
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