Paul was obviously avoiding her gaze, but she could tell he was beginning to crack and finally, without moving a muscle, his eyes shifted to her face.
She shot him a look that could freeze hell, but he only smiled.
Agent Cameron sat down in a seat next to Russo.
“Seems we’re all present,” the mayor began. “So let’s get started.”
Kendra’s mouth had dried to sandpaper. There were small pitchers of water on the table and she filled a glass in front of her.
Russo introduced his eight municipal staff members; Kendra barely caught their names, but she was impressed by those present from Washington, most of whom she vaguely recognized. White House Chief Counsel George Bennington was accompanied by three members of the National Security Council, who were somber and silent during the introductions.
The mayor concluded, “And this is Paul O’Keefe, head of entomology at the Natural History Museum, and his associate, Kendra Hart.”
Kendra’s fist tightened around the water glass.
“The reason I’ve called today’s meeting in this bunker will become clear momentarily. I expect other colleagues will soon be joining us, but for now we’re trying to keep this thing quiet. What you hear today may be shocking, but nothing leaves this room. The last thing we need is a panic on our hands.”
There were hesitant looks among the municipal employees, but the Washington group remained stoic. Kendra was having trouble concentrating. She took a long drink of water and tried to focus on the mayor’s words.
“According to army intelligence,” Russo declared, “a deadly new species of ant has created huge colonies under our streets and may threaten the very survival of New York City.”
Kendra snorted, choking on water. Her laughing eyes darted around the table, waiting for someone to say “just kidding.”
The mayor wasn’t amused.
Pat Dempsey, the burly Irish sanitation director, chuckled too. “Well, you have to admit, John, that sounds a little sci-fi. Why don’t we just shoot them all with ray guns?”
“Pat, you saw what they did to your men,” Russo said with a scowl. “I want you all to listen to Paul O’Keefe. He knows more about ants than anyone on the planet.”
Paul rose from his seat and walked to a podium, as Kendra’s eyes followed the full length of him. He hit a few buttons and a theater-sized screen floated down from overhead and began running a silent film clip. Two ants, projected to the size of elephants, were butting heads over a dead grasshopper. The crowd around the table was instantly alert.
“As vital as they are to the environment,” Paul said with authority, “certain species of ants have been a threat to the health and safety of our country for nearly a century. The worst of these is the imported red fire ant.” Then Paul said something that really took Kendra by surprise. “Professor Hart is really the fire ant expert. I’m sure she’d be glad to give us a brief overview.”
Now everyone was staring at Kendra. She cleared her throat and accepted the challenge. Onscreen a queen fire ant was being tended by a battalion of nurser ants. “The fire ant queen,” Kendra began. “She lays thousands of eggs a day and reproduces other queens through cloning, making an exact replica of herself. Each year, five million Americans are stung by fire ants, which can cause injuries ranging from a painful rash to anaphylactic shock and even death. For nearly a century, they’ve been steadily moving north and the infestation count is now six-hundred million acres. The annual cost to this country is over twelve billion dollars in treatment, loss of crops, livestock and damaged machinery. I suppose it’s lucky for humans the main diet of the fire ant is insects and small mammals.”
A new creature burst onscreen. It had no eyes, just enormous sharp pincers snapping at the camera like an alien in battle. Kendra blinked hard and the word “Siafu” soundlessly left her lips.
“Thank you, Ms. Hart,” Paul said, and once again took center stage. “In contrast, the deadly Siafu of Africa is a vicious man-eater and the only insect known to attack people for the purpose of food. Siafu, also known as driver ants, sweep the forest floor in colonies of twenty-two million. They typically attack their prey en masse by entering the nose and mouth and asphyxiating them. Siafu are blind and react to movement and carbon dioxide; if anything stirs or breathes, they kill it and eat it.” Paul returned to the table. “That’s a brief overview of two of the most deadly insects on the planet. Kendra, if you want to add anything…”
She answered with a cold stare.
“So what’s with the bug lesson, John?” Pat asked the mayor.
Paul replied, “The insects attacking New Yorkers have characteristics of both species, fire ant and Siafu.”
“How’s that?”
“I’ll let our guest explain,” Russo said. “Some of you have met General Leonard Dawson.” Russo motioned to a domineering-looking figure beside him. “The general is actually quite familiar with these insects and he has come here today with some vital information.”
The two-star general sat a head taller than the rest of the group. He had a frame as wide as a doorway; a powerhouse in full uniform. He took command of the table with a booming voice. “Two years ago, the United States military was tipped off about a secluded laboratory in Bolivia. We sent in a surveillance team, which located a sprawling compound—over ninety thousand square feet—camouflaged inside the Amazon jungle. Naturally, we believed it to be a drug operation and immediately organized a raid with the Bolivian government. However, the incursion was a disaster. There was a shootout. A fire erupted, causing major explosions.”
The general turned to Agent Cameron. “That’s when the FBI showed up. Turned out they had been investigating the lab for several months.”
Agent Cameron said, “We had been following a money trail, millions of dollars from an unidentified source in the United States. Our information pointed not to drugs but to ecoterrorists. A scientist working at that lab, Dr. Phillip Laredo, had strong ties to radical environmental groups. As specialists in ecoterrorism, my team was assigned to the case.” Cameron’s jaw clenched. “Until the military got wind of the operation and swooped right in.”
The general cleared his throat in annoyance. “It was not a successful mission, that’s true. Everyone inside the lab was killed. Except for the ants. Millions of them, living in a tank the size of an Olympic swimming pool. The Bolivian government wanted the insects destroyed, the whole place burned to the ground. So the army complied. We gassed the ants in the tank and firebombed the compound. Some of the specimens were collected and brought back to the United States. That’s when we discovered something disturbing—outside of the tank, these ants are indestructible. I can tell you without a doubt, the ants we collected are the same species we’re facing here in New York.”
Paul looked flabbergasted, as if this was all news to him, crucial information he should have been given before anyone else. He said to the colonel, “You gassed the ants?”
“They can be killed in a tank,” Dawson replied. “Certainly not in a city.”
“So you’ve been studying the specimens for two years?”
“We analyzed them for several months. But they died off rather quickly.”
“Surely you learned something about them.”
The general motioned to a uniformed officer by his side. “This is Colonel Tom Garrett. He was working with the team of army scientists studying the specimens and following up on leads with the FBI. Anything we learned in two years, he can share with you.”
Garrett was a tall man in his sixties, with a pasty complexion and dour expression. His salt-and-pepper hair was stiffly sprayed. Despite his chicken-like neck, the cut of his uniform hinted at an athletic frame. He glanced around the table and his gaze lingered on Kendra for just a moment.
“I’ll tell you what I know,” he began. “We believe the project was going on since the 1980s, funded by a group known as Earth Avengers, an extraordinarily sophisticated and clandestine sect of ecoterrorists. These
people had access to an unprecedented amount of money, resources and highly trained entomologists. From what the FBI uncovered, it seems their goal was to create man’s ultimate natural enemy. One which could fight back against human destruction of the planet. The insect they created was a genetic mutation of the Siafu and fire ant, which they named Siafu Moto, Swahili for ‘driver ant-fire.’ The result of their work was the most deadly, indestructible creature on earth. The ants live underground and have a lethal sting. They multiply by the millions. They feed at night and will attack anything that moves. Their diet consists of rats and human flesh.”
“Just rats and people?” Pat Dempsey asked, amused.
“We believe they were developed to be an urban weapon,” General Dawson replied. “Kill off people and leave most other creatures alone.”
“New York’s a long crawl from Bolivia,” Pat said. “How did they get under our city?”
“It was Dr. Laredo, the project leader. We believe he escaped the fire and took off with a Siafu Moto queen.”
Cameron added, “The FBI has been tracking him since the raid. We found nothing until a month ago. A photo of a dead man resembling Laredo was taken by NYPD just days after the fire in Bolivia. He was found in Riverside Park. Shot himself in the head.”
Kendra grimaced.
Garrett said, “If Laredo released that queen before killing himself, it’s possible she has produced millions of ants, as well as her clones, which would have started their own colonies all over the city. There may be a trillion ants under Manhattan.”
“That’s insane,” said Pat.
“Maybe,” Garrett replied. “Maybe not.”
Paul spoke with a renewed sense of hope. “We’ll need every speck of research you recovered from the lab. All the genetic modifications, the tests and findings.”
“Didn’t you hear the general?” Garrett said. “The facility was destroyed. All the scientists are dead. I can’t give you anything.”
“You didn’t collect any documents?” Paul said tersely. “I find that hard to believe.”
“Like he said,” the general cut in, “there are no records. Aside from the president of the United States and the faces you see in this room, there are less than fifty individuals in the world who even know about these ants. Let me make this clear; any information regarding the Siafu Moto is proprietary to the United States military. As a matter of national security, there will be no communication beyond this bunker.” He glanced around the table. “You cannot speak to anyone about this. Not your families and certainly not the media.”
His words were met with nervous stares among the group, except for the White House representatives, who sat rigid.
Then the general turned almost apologetic. “Of course, the United States Army takes full responsibility for this disaster. Both the raid and destruction of the facility were tactical errors.”
Colonel Garrett showed no remorse. “The problem will be contained. There is no doubt about that.”
“A trillion ants. I still don’t believe it,” insisted Pat. “What, are they invisible? We’ve had just a handful of attacks.”
Kendra was pondering the same question. “He’s right. And there would be other signs as well. Fire ants create enormous tunnels. A large colony can loosen soil to the point of road collapse. They’re attracted to electrical fields, constantly causing power outages and cable damage. In Texas, ants are the leading cause of traffic light failures. A trillion could black out this city.”
The room fell silent and everyone stared dumbly at Kendra. The mayor cleared his throat and turned to his staff with an accusing tone. “I guess that would explain our rash of subway outages. Sixteen road cave-ins this year. Con Ed is nearly out of their minds with shortages.”
“Not to mention the missing rat population,” Pat muttered. Then he added, “Still, there must be some kind of bug spray we could dump on them.”
The mayor called attention to three men sitting around the table in identical pinstriped suits. “These gentlemen are representatives from the largest chemical companies in the world.”
Kendra scrutinized the men. All three were beaming with pride, as if they were superheroes flown in to save the planet. She recognized the tall one from Cytex, the largest global manufacturer of insecticides. He was an irritating man named Preston something-or-other, who tried to compensate for his baldness by pulling the last fringe of his hair into a slim ponytail. Preston had tried to shut down COP’s journal for what he called repeatedly misstating facts. He gave Kendra a sly wink, signaling that he remembered her too.
“The three of you will be working with Dr. O’Keefe,” the mayor announced, and smiled at the men with optimism. “Paul tells me you have some effective methods to stop all types of insects.”
“Quite effective, yes,” Preston assured the mayor, and the other two nodded accordingly.
Flustered, Kendra eyed Paul, and he turned away. Working with pesticide companies had long been a point of disparity between them. Paul reasoned it was easier to work with them than fight them. “There’s never been a pesticide that has been able to stop the spread of fire ants,” she told the mayor definitively.
The mayor forced a grin. “And what do you propose we do?”
“I’m not sure,” she replied. “Did anyone think about evacuating the city?”
Paul stifled a chuckle, covering his mouth with a cough. The mayor’s staff seemed to look in six different directions. Kendra had the feeling the subject had been brought up before.
“Eight million people?” Russo cocked his head, ripped off his glasses. “Do you have any idea how much money that kind of undertaking would cost? Police, emergency crews, assistance for the sick and elderly, temporary housing, transit and traffic—”
She raised a defensive hand. “Hey, you’re the one claiming these ants—”
“Forty million dollars!” he declared. “Per day. I’m not even taking into account yet another huge collapse of the stock market and worldwide financial loss.”
“Financial loss?” she burst out with a biting smirk.
“Look.” The mayor held up his hands with the placating smile of a longtime politician. “This isn’t something that’s going to be solved with a couple of pest strips and a can of Raid. It may take years to get rid of them.”
“So what do we do in the meantime?” Pat asked.
“We play offense. The last attack was underground. We’ll be shutting down the Lexington subway line, sending in excavation teams. They’ll be in full gear, tearing up the walls next week. Paul, we’re going to need the most help from the scientific community. Someone has to figure out how to kill these things. I’ve assembled this team because we’ve got to keep this city running, and I know you can be trusted not to say a word about this.”
“So we’re the whole team? Are we supposed to save the city by ourselves?” Pat asked.
“Don’t be ridiculous. We’ve got the army, the FBI, Homeland Security. People are going mad in Washington trying to solve this crisis.”
“Great,” Pat muttered, glancing at the attorney general. “Washington.”
“So how are we supposed to kill them?” Pat nodded to Colonel Garrett. “Didn’t you just tell us these ants are indestructible?”
The colonel replied, “Out in the field, they are virtually impossible to destroy.” He looked at Kendra. “You are correct that pesticides are probably out of the question. The same is true for conventional warfare, chemical and biological weapons, megabombs and fuel air bombs. So far, we know of only one full-proof method to kill them. When hit with a blast of atomic radiation, they die instantly.”
No one said anything. The White House chief counsel looked pale.
“There are other ways to destroy ants,” Kendra finally said. “Advanced technologies that won’t leave the city a toxic dump or radioactive wasteland.”
The mayor raised a brow. “Let’s try to remember, these are bugs after all.”
“Insects,” Kendra
corrected out of habit.
“Whatever,” the mayor continued. “Paul has been running tests all week and I have no doubt that he can eventually figure out how to kill them.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” Paul said. “Ms. Hart, would you like to review the findings?”
Before she could respond, Russo said, “That’s an excellent idea. Tomorrow I expect your lists of problems and solutions—I don’t want any more deaths on my watch.”
The group rose in quiet murmurs.
Kendra nearly bumped squarely into Agent Cameron. “Smiling Dan,” she said with sarcasm.
He handed her a map of the bunker. “You’ll need this. It’s a diagram of the entire complex.”
She stared at the long tunnels and tiny chambers. “Looks like an ant colony.”
“You can enter any of these rooms. Cafeteria, laboratory, computer room, laundry, everything you’ll need.”
“Everything but sky.”
“You won’t be leaving for a few days. Cell phones don’t work but the mayor has an outside line in his office. All the computers have Internet connections, carefully monitored by a security team. I can escort you outside for emergencies only.”
“Thanks, Dan.” Paul took Kendra by the elbow. “I think she’s all right for now.”
Agent Cameron smiled through straight white teeth. “Paul O’Keefe, right? Belong to a few radical organizations.”
“I guess. If you consider Greenpeace radical.”
“Scientists for the Preservation of Earth. Americans for Responsible Government.”
“Your point?”
Cameron looked at Paul, his eyes icy and emotionless. “No point, Doctor.”
CHAPTER 12
THE SMELL OF FORMALDEHYDE was a comforting memory to Kendra as she checked out the laboratory. The squared walls were painted white and the lab was well stocked. There were bottles of dead ants with their legs to the ceiling and live ones feverishly cleaning antennas. Microscopes, beakers and test tubes lined black lacquer counters. Inside an open closet she could see a stack of boxes containing ant-proof suits labeled BUG OUT, and she wondered if there was a field trip in her future.
The Colony Page 6