Rasmussen hesitated.
“Come on, Anne. We’re on the same side here. If you don’t tell me, I won’t give you the antidote to the poison I put in your coffee while you weren’t looking.”
She laughed.
“I thought the coffee tasted better. It’s pretty dreadful, isn’t it?”
“I think they make it with left-over soybeans.”
Rasmussen looked at Scarne, making up her mind.
“I work for the D.C.S., the Defense Clandestine Service,” she said. “It’s a new department set up by the Pentagon to monitor foreign threats.”
“Just what the country needs. Another damn intelligence service. You know, the alphabet only has 26 letters. Pretty soon you guys are going to run out. But that doesn’t answer my question. Why Lenzer? Because he’s a German?”
“He’s a naturalized American, now. No, we were only interested in him because of Turchin. He’s former KGB and has some nasty friends among the old guard in Russia. He doesn’t know we know that. He also doesn’t know we know he’s lied about never meeting Lenzer. We have them on surveillance video together at various secretive meetings in Europe. But we thought it was just a case of the Russians trying some old-fashioned corporate espionage. If they killed Vallance, they must be up to something more serious.”
“Well, we’re not likely to find out what it is in Lenzer’s office. I didn’t think I would, but I had to try. I was only looking for anything that would connect Lenzer with Vallance’s murder, but I’m sure I would have noticed if he was planning World War III. Even if he’d left his laptop, it probably wouldn’t have contained anything incriminating.”
A young man and a woman came into the cafeteria and walked over to the coffee machine. Both got cups and sat down at a table about 20 feet from Scarne and Rasmussen. The woman smiled and gave a little wave. Rasmussen smiled and waved back. The other couple was soon in deep conversation, holding hands, heads close together across their table.
“Office romance,” Scarne said.
“Newlyweds,” Rasmussen said. “They both have wedding bands.”
“Maybe they’re not married to each other. I hear a lot of cheating goes on out here in the boonies. Not much else to do.”
“You’re a cynical bastard. I should have hit you harder.”
“God forbid. Listen, Anne, I think I have to move up the time for my visit to the Black Hole. Say, to about 15 minutes from now. I won’t learn anything on the official Disney tour tomorrow. Maybe I can find something that will help us both.”
“Your last break-in left something to be desired.”
“But, now, you’re on my side.”
“I am?”
“Aren’t you? Come on, Anne. We stand a better chance if we watch each other’s back. Or are you planning to call in some of the boys at the Pentagon to share the credit. This is a career-maker for you. We’re here, on the ground and ready to go. If you’ve read my file, you know you’re not likely to do better on short notice.”
Rasmussen smiled.
“You are a piece of work, Jake. But the Black Hole has tight security. There will surely be alarms.”
“I’ll figure something out.”
“I may be able to help out with that. But I’ll need more than 15 minutes. I have to make a call and get something out of my car. Come on, let’s get out of here.”
As they passed the other couple, Rasmussen said, “How long have you kids been married?”
“Just over a month,” the girl chirped.
“Good luck,” Rasmussen said.
On the way out of the cafeteria, she turned to Scarne.
“Told you so.”
Rasmussen’s car was in the same lot as Scarne’s, a few rows away. She took out her cell phone and opened her trunk.
“I’ll be right back,” Scarne said, heading to his car.
“Where are you going?”
“To get my gun.”
“You won’t need one. I’m very good with my Glock.”
“I don’t doubt it, Annie Oakley, but I’m not about to ignore Private Eye Rule Number One.”
“Which is?”
“Never break into a place called ‘The Black Hole’ without your own gun.”
“Are you sure you’re up for this,” Rasmussen said, pointing at his head.
Scarne smiled.
“Sure. You hit like a girl.”
When he returned, she had put on a black windbreaker and was just ending a call. She pulled out a small backpack and closed the trunk. Then she looked at her watch.
“We have to wait 20 minutes.”
“For what?”
“Until the power blackout. Knock out the power and you knock out a building’s security system.”
“That was your phone call?”
“Fortunately,” Rasmussen said, “the entire BVM facility is on its own grid, so it was a no-brainer. You’d be surprised how many short blackouts are arranged by law enforcement. But we’ll only have a half-hour.”
“I’m moving to Australia. But any security system worth its salt will be tied to a central monitoring station that will send people to investigate. And there is always a backup generator.”
“If we time it right, the blackout will mask the break-in. They’ll still call the cops but the nearest police station is a half-hour away.”
“What about a roaming area car. One of them might be a lot closer.”
Rasmussen smiled.
“They’ll presumably go to the bank alarm in town that I’ve also arranged.”
“And BVM security? I have seen a few of them walking around.”
“Not to worry. We’ll give them, and the cops, a diversion. Get in the car.”
Rasmussen handed Scarne the backpack and pulled out of the lot. He looked inside the bag.
“Anne, why do I get the impression that you’ve done this before?”
“Only in training.”
“Wonderful.”
“Hey. This was your idea.”
“I didn’t know you’d go commando on me.”
Rasmussen drove to a small electrical transformer outside a building a few hundred feet from Lenzer’s laboratory.
“I thought this might come in handy,” she said.
“You reconnoitered this already didn’t you?”
“Semper Paratus.”
“Be Prepared? You were in the Coast Guard?”
Rasmussen sighed.
“It’s also the motto of the Girl Scouts.” She paused. “I was a Scout.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
“Listen, wise guy, Katie Couric was a scout. Twenty astronauts were former Girl Scouts, including Kathryn Sullivan, the first American woman to spacewalk.”
“You’re sexier than her. In fact, you look a little like Sandra Bullock. She was an astronaut in that movie, Gravity. Good flick. ”
“Thank you, I guess.”
“I’m starving. I don’t suppose you have any Girl Scout cookies in the trunk. I’m partial to the Do-si-dos, myself.”
“Please shut the fuck up.”
Rasmussen took the backpack from him and they got out of the car. She took out a small canister and several flares and checked her watch.
“Any minute now,” she said.
They waited. Suddenly, all the lights in the complex went out. Rasmussen pulled the pin on the canister and threw it over the small fence toward the transformer.
“Flash bang grenade,” she explained. Then she set off the flares and threw them after the grenade. “Let’s go!”
They jumped in the car and she headed to the Black Hole. Behind them there was a large bang and the transformer was bathed in light from the flares.
“With any luck,” she said. “Everyone will assume the transformer blew and somehow knocked out the power to everything. That should buy us some time before the cavalry shows up.”
“Very impressive. But why didn’t we just really blow up the transformer?”
“Who am I? Rambo
? I don’t carry real explosives with me. I had to steal that flash bang from one of our exercises. Those are just road flares. They may scorch the transformer housing but probably won’t do any real damage.”
Scarne smiled at her. This woman certainly could think on her feet.
As they neared Lenzer’s building, they spotted a man in a white lab coat standing outside looking toward the glow coming from the transformer.
“We caught a break,” Scarne said. “Park here. That door is open. Go up to that guy and distract him.”
“How?”
“Show him some leg or try to sell him some Girl Scout cookies, whatever works. Here, give me the bag.”
Rasmussen walked up to the man, positioning herself so that his back was to Scarne. He was only too happy to talk to an attractive brunette and never heard Scarne, who hit him on the neck. The man dropped. Scarne threw the bag to Rasmussen, who held the door while he dragged the unconscious scientist into the door. The lights were on and they could hear the hum of emergency generators. They immobilized and gagged the man, using tape from the bag. Rasmussen worked quickly and efficiently.
“Must be a hell of a training program at the D.C.S.,” Scarne commented.
He dragged the man into a nearby empty office and emerged wearing his lab coat. They could hear activity down the hallway.
“Just walk with me,” Scarne said. “Act like we belong. They might think I work here and you have something to do with restoring the power.”
They passed glass-fronted labs in which a few technicians were working. Scarne gave a collegial wave to anyone who looked their way. A few of the techs even waved back.
“Jesus,” Rasmussen muttered.
They passed a fire alarm and Scarne pulled it. Almost immediately the floor was filled with a strident siren and technicians began to peek out of the labs.
“Everybody out!” Scarne shouted.
The alarm, coming on the heels of the explosion and blackout, had the expected effect. Scarne grabbed one of the techs as he ran by.
“Dr. Lenzer wants me to secure his private papers. Where would I find them?”
“His private lab, I suppose.”
“Where is it?”
“Second floor, in the rear.” The man suddenly looked suspicious. “But it’s locked. Only Dr. Lenzer has access. Who are you? Didn’t I see you in the cafeteria?” He looked at Rasmussen. “And you, don’t you work for the Department of Agriculture?”
Scarne hit him in the throat and kneed him in the groin. The man said ‘awk” and crumpled to the ground in agony, unable to speak.
Two other techs were running down the hall.
“You two! This man has collapsed. Get him outside and call 911. We’ll look for other casualties.”
“What happened to him?”
“I don’t know. Think he caught a whiff of something from a vent. You’d better get out of here.”
Both men looked frightened. They picked up their colleague and dragged him away.
“I hope that poor bastard wasn’t an innocent bystander,” Rasmussen said.
“I don’t think anyone in this joint is too innocent,” Scarne said. “Did you see their faces when I said that something might be coming out of a vent. They’re not making soy burgers in here.”
Scarne and Rasmussen ignored the elevator in favor of a stairwell. They sprinted up to the second floor, which appeared deserted. When they reached Lenzer’s private lab, the door, as expected, was locked. Just to the right of the door was a pedestal with a tilted pad for palm recognition.
“What now?” Scarne said. “Want me to go and cut Lenzer’s hand off?”
.
CHAPTER 28 - VIRONS
“The Viron?”
“Yes,” Lenzer said. “A combination of virus and prion, of course. A bit of a misnomer, since it is much more prion than virus. We had considered Prius, but apparently that is the name of a popular new automobile. Ironic. I think they call such a vehicle a hybrid, which would have been appropriate enough, since our particle is also a hybrid.” Lenzer cackled. “The hybrid car is supposed to be good for the environment. Another similarity with our little discovery. Once we depopulate the world a bit, the environment should benefit greatly, yes!”
Depopulate the world? What is he talking about, Turchin thought.
“A prion? I am unfamiliar with the term.”
“You know what a virus is, don’t you,” Lenzer said, looking exasperated.
“Of course I know what a virus is. Don’t talk down to me!”
“All right, all right. Calm down. We’re not in the basement of the Lubyanka.”
Lenzer poured the Russian some more vodka.
“As opposed to all other known infectious agents, such as viruses, bacteria, fungi or parasites, which contain nucleic material, DNA or RNA, prions are composed of misfolded proteins. Prions, like viruses, are not actually living organisms, but like viruses, they can reproduce by taking over the functions of living cells. They spread by transmitting their deformed protein state. When a prion enters a healthy organism, it converts properly folded proteins into a disease-associated form. The prion is like a small computer. It acts as a template to create more misfolded proteins. The new prions convert more warped proteins. And so on. A chain reaction of prions. Prions induce the formation of an amyloid fold, in which the protein polymerises into an aggregate consisting of tightly packed beta sheets. Amyloid aggregates are fibrils …”
“Enough,” Turchin said, his eyes glazing over. “I’m sorry I asked. I bow to your expertise. And these prions are dangerous?”
“They are responsible for a variety of gruesome ailments including spongiform encephalopathies in a variety of mammals, including bovine spongiform encephalopathy, also known as Mad Cow Disease. In humans, they have been identified in Creutzfeldt-Jakob Disease, Gerstmann–Sträussler–Scheinker syndrome, Fatal Familial Insomnia and Kuru, an incurable degenerative neurological disorder endemic to tribal regions of Papua New Guinea. In fact, all known prion diseases affect the structure of the brain or other neural tissue and are invariably fatal”
“Good Lord! Why work with such horrible material?”
Lenzer’s face took on a messianic cast.
“Because by genetically mixing prions with certain viruses, we were able to tame their most dangerous aspects, at least those aspects dangerous to researchers. The prion’s structure is extremely stable. They are resistant to breakdown by chemical and physical agents, and are thus difficult to dispose and contain. But our Virons have a different structure. Their viral genes allow for vaccination, which all of us have undergone. And we can adjust their life span, or whatever you want to call it, since they are not really alive. It is an amazing creation. If I didn’t have other plans, I might insist on being put up for the Nobel Prize. The Viron has all the best attributes of both virus and prion. It comes in all sizes. Depending on the magnification used, it can look like either one, which will drive the epidemiologists crazy. By the time they can get a handle on it, if they ever do, it will be too late. And it is so malleable. We can program it to do virtually anything. And the delivery systems are undetectable.”
“Systems?”
“Yes. There are several. In the India test, we used protein bars that BVM supplied to some United Nations food program. We tracked the particular shipment, of course, because we wanted a controlled experiment. The subjects ate the bars and were infected.”
“How did you track one shipment?”
Lenzer airily waved one of his hands.
“Simple. You saw the map in our trading room. Our computers are quite sophisticated. My assistants made sure the ship the doctored pallet was on was not diverted and a GPS device in the pallet did the rest. We hired someone on the ground in India to make sure the protein bars got exactly to the village we used as a control. He, of course, did not know what we were doing. But he was well-paid.”
“And the ‘subjects’? What happened to them?”
“E
veryone who ate at least one of the protean bars became symptomatic within a week. Roughly 100 of 400 villagers died. The rest were incapacitated, some permanently. A powerful weapon, no?”
Although he was aware of the conspiracy’s implications, the Russian was nevertheless chilled by Lenzer’s cold recitation of the massacre, for that was what it was.
“How can you be sure all the protein bars were consumed? What if the illness pops up somewhere else and spreads. Won’t that endanger our plans?”
“You don’t understand, Anzor. The Viron is a perfect weapon. We engineered the Indian batch to have a shelf life of only one month. You and I could eat one of those bars for dessert now and nothing would happen. The Viron would be inactive. They are quite tasty, by the way.”
“And the other ‘experiments’?”
“The British authorities are still scratching their heads over an outbreak of what they assumed is Mad Cow Disease. They assumed the local badger population was the disease vector. Slaughtered thousands of the poor animals when, in fact, we infected a few dairy herds with Virons we engineered into a grain-and-soybean feed. Again, short-term efficacy, impossible to detect. But a few sick cows created a small panic. The potential for wide disruption of a food supply is obvious. In the United States, we have tested a Viron that mimics Goss’s Wilt, which damages, but does not destroy, a corn crop. There is a test going on right now in Iowa.”
“Isn’t that too close to home? What happens if someone connects the dots? Right back to you.”
“They won’t have a clue. By adjusting the strength of the Virons in various seeds, we can cause disease in some corn, while a nearby stand remains healthy. They will never blame BVM. In fact, I expect them to come to us for help in their investigation. They often do.”
The sun had gone down and the night air grew cool. Turchin shivered. But he was fairly certain it had nothing to do with the temperature.
“You seem to have exceeded your brief, Roland. When we supported your rise through the ranks at BVM, the object was to gain control of the world’s most innovative agribusiness, and bend it to our purposes.”
THE VIRON CONSPIRACY (JAKE SCARNE THRILLERS #4) Page 17