Nate’s gruff voice came through the speakers in Juan’s helmet. “Juan? Everything okay?”
“Nate, we just got a match on the stuff that was in that water dispenser. That means it’s confirmed: they used my algorithm. And it gets worse. They created genetic fragments that we probably won’t see in humans for another three million years.”
“Whoa, are you telling me—”
“Yeah. Whatever I’ve fed this mouse, it’s for a genetic experiment that’s beyond anything I could imagine. There are almost two thousand different genes involved in this change. I can’t even begin to express how dangerous this can be.”
“Yet they were feeding it to cancer patients.”
“They were what?” Juan exclaimed.
“Shit, I wasn’t supposed to tell you that. But yes—at both incident locations, it seems that a cancer patient was drinking from each of these units.”
“What happened to the cancer patients? Did they survive?”
“One of them died from being exposed to one of the calves. The other one I think is still kicking.”
Juan’s mind raced. “Nate, I can’t even begin to express how uneasy I am about what’s in that water dispenser. It’ll probably take me a couple years, with a full staff helping me, to try and figure out what the hell those DNA changes will…”
Juan trailed off as he noticed the pregnant mouse burrowing into the bed of her cage and licking at her genitalia. He leaned in closer, his visor up against the entrance to the biosafety cabinet.
“Juan?”
“Nate… the mouse is giving birth.”
“Right now?”
“Right now. Hang on.”
As Juan watched, a hint of pink appeared. Almost instantly the mother stopped licking at herself and fell onto her side.
A pink, hairless baby mouse heaved itself onto the floor of the cage.
Grabbing the edge of the lab bench, Juan felt the blood drain from his face. “Nate, we’ve got trouble.”
The mother mouse, her limbs twitching uselessly, pushed out a second baby. Suddenly, the other adult mouse, the father, caged on the other side of the cabinet, began showing signs of distress.
“Juan, you still there?”
Juan was transfixed by the sight. Both adult mice were dying while the infants squeaked in blind protest.
Feeling lightheaded, Juan gasped for breath, not realizing he’d been holding it as he watched what should have been impossible.
“Juan, are you still there?” Nate’s voice broadcast loudly. “Do I need to call a rescue team?”
“No,” Juan said, forcing himself to take deep steady breaths as he backed away from the biosafety cabinet. “Nate, I know what happened at those ranches. And the people who were given this stuff… they could be a danger to everyone around them.”
“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
###
Juan waved away the glass of ice water he’d been offered. “I think you’ll understand if I have somewhat of an aversion to water right now.” He grabbed a bottle of Diet Coke off the table instead.
He was sitting in a conference room in FBI headquarters, along with Nate and at least a dozen other FBI agents and staff he’d never met before. Nate had only had time to introduce him to one person—Jeff Binghamton, the assistant director of CID—before the door opened and the room went quiet as a clean-cut man in his fifties walked in.
The man walked straight over to Juan and shook his hand. “Dr. Gutierrez, I presume?” He had a velvety-smooth voice and a firm grip. “I’m FBI Director Neil Wilson. I’m really glad you’re helping us on this.”
“Of course, sir.”
They all took their seats at the table, and Binghamton began the meeting by summarizing everything that was known to date. Though Juan was familiar with most of this, some of the details were new to him—such as the fact that agents were scouring databases at hospitals worldwide, trying to track down where the unauthorized cancer treatments had been taking place.
When Binghamton was done, the director turned to Juan. “Dr. Gutierrez, can you give me a layman’s view of what you think is going on? What exactly are we dealing with? I understand that it’s some kind of genetic mutation through a virus being used on cancer patients?”
Juan cracked open the Diet Coke and took a long swig, trying to relax his nerves. “Sir, it’s not really a mutation. These viruses are different than your normal viruses that gives you a cold. These are the kinds of viruses we use for gene therapy. They target cells and modify the genetic material within in order to fix whatever is ailing a given patient. Unfortunately, with these viruses… I can’t really say what they’re doing. Almost two thousand genes are being modified at once, and that’s going to cause cascading effects.”
“Would one sip of this water mean you’re infected?”
“I can’t say for certain yet. It could be. But I suspect you’d have to get a regular infusion of these viruses and as time goes on, more and more of your cells are modified.”
The director nodded. “It’s similar to chemotherapy where you inject a targeted poison of sorts that attempts to eliminate the cancer in the body.”
“Yes, that’s exactly right.” Juan was impressed with the apt analogy. This man was no idiot.
“And how does what you saw this morning relate to that? According to my briefing, the adult mice weren’t affected by the virus at all, just the babies. Do you have any theories on that?”
“I do. Gene therapy has traditionally been limited to somatic cells, meaning the genetic modifications are not inherited by the child. But clearly this virus has some germline modification in place, meaning it does affect the sperm and ovum. That being said, we observed no effect at all on the adults who ingested the virus, other than a slight fever. Yet clearly something dramatic happened in the babies. As soon as those babies were in the open air, the mother began convulsing. Only seconds later the father, who was at least a foot away in a separate cage, began to convulse too.”
“How that’s even possible?” one of the men sitting across from Juan asked.
Juan shrugged. “I hate to state opinion, but I have a hypothesis. Whenever you smell something, what that means is that you’ve ingested particles floating in the air. When you walk into a men’s room and smell the unpleasantness, that’s an indication there are volatile particles floating in the air and you’re ingesting them.”
The expressions on faces told Juan he’d hit on an analogy that people understood.
“So my hypothesis is that the infant mice, and the infant calves, are giving off a scent—that is to say, they’re sending particles through the air—that’s causing a severe reaction to anyone around them. We haven’t yet autopsied the dead mice, but we have autopsied the human victims from the ranches, and they all appear to have gone into anaphylactic shock, which fits with my hypothesis.”
Nate spoke up. “But the mice didn’t have any reaction to the samples I collected from the calves. Wouldn’t you think that a smell that powerful would linger?”
Juan tapped his thumbs on the conference room table. “I would. For now it’s just a hypothesis—one that requires study. But I will say this. Whoever did this is using a model of highly evolved DNA fragments, from very far in our future. And it’s conceivable that by that time, in this predicted evolutionary path, all creatures will have evolved immune systems that are so aggressive, they don’t wait for an infection to penetrate the body; instead they seek out things to destroy. Things outside the body. If that’s the case, it would make sense that the calf samples would have no effect. Because once the calf died, its immune system would have shut down.”
The silence in the room was lengthy… and unnerving.
Finally the director said, “Okay, folks, I think that’s all that I need. I’m meeting with the president later today. I want you to continue to track down these viruses. We have to put a stop to this before it ends up being an absolute nightmar
e. We don’t want these viruses to get into the water supply of a major city.”
As the meeting broke up, Juan pulled Nate aside. “Nate… this has gotten bigger than I expected. Jennifer and I are not enough to handle this. I’m exhausted as it is, and—”
Binghamton, who was hovering nearby, cut in. “Actually, Dr. Gutierrez, I’ve already gotten permission to increase your staff, effective immediately. Go home and get some rest. By the time you come in tomorrow, they’ll be waiting. Some of them will be there tonight.”
“Thank you,” Juan said.
Nate put his hand on Juan’s shoulder. “Your car’s still back at the lab, right? I can drive you to your place, and we can arrange to have someone pick you up later. Just give me a minute to talk with Jeff.”
Juan sighed and nodded. He was so exhausted, he would have agreed to anything.
Worse, he was worried. This genetic material was already out there, in the wild. He could analyze it, sure; maybe even understand it. But what on earth could be done to stop it?
We’re screwed.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Nate followed his supervisor into a secure room, one of several in the building that served as a Sensitive Compartmented Information Facility. As soon as the door closed behind them, Nate asked, “What gives? Why the need for a SCIF?”
Jeff growled, “Because of this!” He handed Nate an envelope. “I’ve already dusted it for prints. There’s nothing.”
Nate opened the envelope, extracted a single sheet of paper, and read it.
“Two agents from German Intelligence have infiltrated the IC. They have orders to retrieve an intelligence asset associated with the DRWN compartment. Deidrick Müller and Hans Reinhardt are two persons of interest. I’m not certain how many assets they control.”
Nate’s pulse quickened. “Where the hell did this come from?”
Jeff raked his hands through his hair and paced the small room. “I have no fucking idea, but I found that envelope on my car’s dashboard. It was put there while it was parked in my garage, at home!”
Nate had never seen the man so agitated. “They broke into your garage just to leave this? Do we know if it’s even legit? We don’t have any signals intelligence on this, do we?”
“We don’t know what to believe right now.”
“Wait.” Nate tapped his foot as something struck him as familiar about that message. The names in that note… “Oh shit. Those names were on the report I got from that coed at Georgetown. The one who got rescued at the island.”
“In that case, I suspect the ‘asset’ they’re talking about is Gutierrez.”
“Do you think we should get the Secret Service involved?”
“I’ve got a meeting with the deputy director later today; I’ll talk to her and see. In the meantime, we can’t afford to have anything happen to him. I’ve already ordered someone to be stationed around-the-clock outside his hotel room. I’ll double that, and make sure he has a two-car escort wherever he’s going. And I don’t want him anywhere without an agent. All of our asses are on the line if anything happens to that guy.”
“What about the two German intelligence agents? Are we going to do anything about them?”
Jeff nodded. “Oh yeah. We need to find these two jokers and whoever else is with them. They were probably the ones who ‘visited’ Gutierrez at his apartment in Arlington. Once we have a handle on where they are, I’ll need you to prepare a team. We need to get them in for questioning, and they might not come willingly.”
A plan began to come together in Nate’s mind. “I can scan the databases to see if either of those names pop up as having entered the country, and if so, we might be able to get footage from the customs entry area and get a verified ID.”
“Good. And just in case you were thinking about it, we don’t need to let the good doctor know what’s going on. He’s got enough on his mind as it is. I’ll tell him that I’m just being overly cautious about his safety.”
Nate put the note back in the envelope and stuffed it in his suit pocket. “And I’ll put together my team recommendations and get them to you right away.”
“This afternoon. We don’t know how desperate these folks are.”
The fatigue Nate had been feeling melted away as an electric thrill coursed through him. He gave his supervisor a cold smile. “Understood. We’ll get them.”
###
Nate slowed his jog to a walk as he approached Madison’s grave.
It had been two days since his last conversation with Jeff. The team had been assembled—almost all of them former military, special operations—and two of them were already following leads on the suspects. Nate could feel the electricity in the air, almost as if he knew he’d be getting a call any moment telling him that one of the suspects had been spotted.
He blinked away the rain as he knelt at Madison’s grave. “Maddie, I sometimes wish I were with you. Work has been a nightmare. People have died, and we don’t know who’s at fault. There’s a guilt-ridden doctor who’s literally working around the clock trying to save people because someone is using his work against others.”
The sun had just peeked above the horizon, and the cemetery was silent except for the sounds of the gentle rain and the chirping of the birds celebrating the first light of a new day. Nate tilted his head up, caught some raindrops in his mouth, and tried to relax. The stresses of the past few days had been building. He needed this visit with Madison. He needed to vent.
“Medicine is so different now, Maddie. You wouldn’t believe what the doctor’s been working on. Before this nightmare started, he was actually working on a cure for cancer.” Nate’s throat thickened. “Maybe he could have cured you if only you’d gotten the disease now instead of twenty years ago.”
The rain began to fall a little harder, and with it came the sound of tires on wet asphalt, slowing to a stop.
Nate blocked out the world as he knelt before his wife, and a calm came over him. Perhaps this was Madison’s way of helping him through the tough times; perhaps it was simply a form of meditation he’d picked up over the years. It didn’t really matter. He always felt better after coming here.
When he heard the sound of an uneven gait approaching, he didn’t need to open his eyes to know who it was. “Good morning, Mrs. Jacobsen.”
“Good morning, dear boy. I’ve brought more daisies for your Madison.”
Nate opened his eyes and was surprised by how much brighter the day had already gotten. Mrs. Jacobsen was wearing her customary black and clutching a handful of ragged daisies in her swollen, arthritic hands.
He took the daisies and laid them on Madison’s grave. “Thank you.”
Mrs. Jacobsen began digging in her purse. “And a nice young man asked me to give you something else.”
Nate’s senses went on high alert. “A young man?”
“Yes, he came by the retirement home and said that you and he were friends. He said he was leaving for… well, now that I think on it, I don’t recall where he said he was off to. Just that he said he owed a debt or something and this would settle things.” The sound of loose change rattling in her purse was interrupted by her exclamation. “Oh, here it is.” She pulled out a USB stick and handed it to Nate.
He looked at it, bewildered. “Do you know what this is?”
“No, not at all.”
“Mrs. Jacobsen, can you describe who it was that gave this to you? Did he give a name? How’d he know you were going to see me?”
“Well… he was dressed like he was going on a vacation. He had sunglasses and a Bermuda hat that was quite dashing.” Her wrinkles deepened as she scrunched up her face in concentration. “Oh, I must be going senile, or maybe I’m just a goofy old broad. I don’t think he gave me his name. He sure knew who you were, though. Described you to a T, he did. And he knew you’d be at Madison’s side this morning. Bless me, but that’s not so hard to predict, now is it?” She smiled. “What is this th
ing that’s so important? He even gave me twenty dollars to make sure I’d deliver it. I tried to say no of course, but he insisted.”
Nate smiled. “Well, I’m just glad that he got it back to me. Thank you for delivering it. How are you feeling this morning?”
She sniffed and arched an eyebrow. “Don’t go about thinking I don’t notice you trying to switch subjects on me, young man. But it’s not my business.” She sighed. “I suppose I’m feeling as good as these eighty-six-year-old bones should be feeling. It’s this eight-six-year-old mind that troubles me. With having to fuss over remembering to deliver that thing to you, I plumb forgot to bring my special flask for Warren.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do for you?”
“Oh, I’ll be all right. Warren will understand.” The wizened old woman flashed her yellow-toothed smile, patted his cheek, then turned and hobbled over to her husband’s gravesite.
Nate scanned the area, searching for signs of any watchers in the vicinity. Other than Mrs. Jacobsen and the bored-looking driver who was reading a magazine, there was nobody else within visual range.
Nate looked down at the thumb drive in his hand. Beneath the plastic endcap was a fingerprint reader.
He glanced at the old woman fifty yards away and shook his head. Who the hell would give a crazy old woman a biometrically encrypted storage device?
Nate panned his gaze across the cemetery, his senses on high alert.
Whoever sent this has access to my biometric data and has been watching my movements.
###
As the last of the intelligence team assembled, Nate attached his laptop to the projector cable and pulled up his PowerPoint presentation. One of the agents flipped a switch on the wall, and the windows turned opaque.
Jeff kicked things off. “This morning, an encrypted storage device, with information on the operation we’ve been investigating, was delivered to Agent Carrington via an uninvolved third party. That device was keyed to be accessible only with Nate’s fingerprint. Only someone with access to our HR records could have done that.”
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