As Naylor squinted at the screen, the ordered phalanx of dots now appeared to be breaking up. Some even seemed to be stopping. But because she was willing them to stop, she couldn't be sure she wasn't just imagining it.
"They are less than ten miles from the thirty-second parallel," continued the commentator, his voice increasing in pitch. "The red line indicates the barrier they must not cross. Wait! Something is happening."
And it was, although for a time Naylor couldn't determine what. Sitting forward, clenching her coffee cup, she watched the tanks slow and then stop.
"Increase the damn magnification," said McCloud beside her.
As if in answer to his command the screen shifted again to such a high level of resolution that Naylor could almost see individual faces. But still nothing seemed to be happening.
"The world is on tenterhooks," announced the commentator. "What are they going to do? Are they waiting for the final command to advance?"
Gradually the ordered pattern began to dissolve into apparent chaos. Some of the tanks were turning around. So were many of the troop carriers. Soldiers in the stationary trucks were jumping out, throwing down their guns, and walking away.
"Jeez," said McCloud softly, "what the fuck's happening here?"
Naylor just stared, willing it to continue.
"If I weren't seeing this with my own eyes, I wouldn't believe it," said the commentator. "Scores of tanks and troops are turning around. Many are throwing their weapons down and just walking back into the desert. It appears that fellow officers and soldiers are forcibly trying to obstruct them. But short of shooting them, which many are now doing, they are helpless to stop them. What is incomprehensible is that the apparent deserters--and there are thousands--are not retaliating. They are simply turning their backs and walking away.
"In over twenty years of reporting on conflicts from around the world, I have never seen anything like this. As the deserters' numbers continue to swell, the rest of the tanks are now turning back as well. It appears as if at the eleventh hour, on the very brink of war, Armageddon has been averted."
The men in the room with Naylor burst into spontaneous applause.
A surge of euphoric vindication swelled in Naylor's chest. TITANIA had been right, its projections perfect. A potential nuclear war had been averted. Mankind had been saved from the mindless aggression of men.
She could imagine the rest of the world, including Weiss, breathing a huge sigh of relief. Surely after seeing that display, even she might begin to understand the merits of what they were trying to do. Crime Zero was finally happening, and the future was beginning to look brighter.
Chapter 28.
Tiburon, California.Friday, November 7, 12:11 A.M.
Sipping her red wine and picking at a plate of steaming tagliatelle, Kathy Kerr couldn't relax. The guilt she felt corroded her stomach, but she forced herself to eat because she needed the focus and strength. She couldn't escape the conclusion that this was somehow all her fault.
She sat with Luke Decker and Joey Barzini around a plain stripped wood kitchen table. For a man of Barzini's obvious wealth the large beautiful house in Tiburon was first and foremost a family home. Pictures showing his five--now adult--children at various stages of development were dotted around the large kitchen. But despite the warmth of the place, she still felt on edge, and she could tell Decker did too. There were obviously servants here, but Kathy hadn't seen any yet. Carmela, Barzini's wife, had made the pasta and was now preparing their rooms.
Decker quietly sipped his wine and left his food untouched. He still appeared to be in shock after leaving Barzini's men to handle the police and ensure his grandfa-ther's body was properly taken care of. Barzini had concocted a story of how he had been visiting his friend Matty when he found the body, keeping Decker and Kathy out of it. A limousine had swept the three of them across the Golden Gate Bridge to Tiburon.
When they arrived at his house, Barzini told them that the President had died and Pamela Weiss had been sworn in. Neither of them had really been able to digest the information in the aftershock of the evening's events. Now, just after midnight, Decker looked as exhausted as Kathy felt. But despite Barzini's pleas for them to rest, she and Decker insisted they resolve what was to be done before retiring.
"Start from the beginning and tell me everything," said Barzini, nursing an oversize cup of espresso.
Still unsure whether to trust this huge man, Kathy looked at Decker. Decker returned her look and shrugged, as if in concession.
So for the next fifteen minutes she outlined Project Conscience and the subsequent events to Barzini. She told him about Decker's DNA test and how this had alerted her to Axelman and other death row prisoners in San Quentin receiving lethal gene therapy similar to Conscience. She recounted her abduction by Madeline Naylor's people and her rescue from the Sanctuary by Decker.
She then explained about Decker's contacting the journalist Hank Butcher, using him to pass the evidence to Pamela Weiss and how their evening had unraveled.
"And that's where you were tonight, getting the evidence?" Barzini asked.
"Yes," said Decker quietly. "While Matty was being killed. And we didn't even get it."
"How important was this evidence?" asked Barzini. "What did it really prove?"
"That the unauthorized Conscience criminal trials used a potentially unsafe vector," said Kathy.
Barzini frowned. "Even though the final vector they were proposing to use in the future was FDA-approved?"
"Yes."
Barzini looked puzzled. "Let me get this straight. These people's unauthorized tests had risked the health of a few hardened criminals in order to develop a different but better FDA-approved cure that would help radically reduce violent crime. If this had got out before the election, I could understand its being embarrassing. But now that Conscience is accepted and Weiss is in power, why should they care who knows this? They could easily rationalize it. They certainly don't need to kill people to keep it quiet. Not anymore."
"But the Axelman discs prove that their tests have killed at least one person," said Kathy.
Barzini shook his head. "Surely they could say it was an accident, a mistake. And again the unfortunate casualty was death row scum. The benefits of their work far outweigh any harm. Why kill Matty to get to you? Why kill anyone now? There must be another reason."
Kathy sighed then. "But that's the point. I can prove that they intended to kill Axelman. I understand how complex it is to create the viral vector that did this and how close it is to the more benign Conscience. That is why they can't let me alone. They are planning something, and they are worried I might jeopardize their plans."
Decker leaned forward. "The question is what those plans are. Once we know that and can prove it then we can stop them."
Barzini slowly sipped his espresso. "What do you think they're planning?"
Kathy shrugged. "Well, I thought they were trying to kill criminals, but Luke doesn't believe that's politically feasible. Still, I can't think of a better hypothesis. Perhaps it's just Category A prisoners they're targeting. It would save money if the worst criminals in prison quietly fell ill and died. And thinning the prison population would be much easier to keep quiet. As far as the voting public is concerned, they don't give a damn about what goes on in a high-security prison. What's out of sight is out of mind. And if taxes fall, who's going to complain?"
Decker frowned. "It doesn't sound right to me, but I can't think of a better theory. All I know is that they killed Matty because of it, and I want to find out what it is and stop it. Come on, Kathy, you've worked with these people. Where would they keep proof of a secret project?"
Kathy Kerr thought for a moment. "I don't know. I've had pretty good access to ViroVector, but I haven't come across anything. Christ, I didn't even know about their secret trials on Conscience."
"Can't you think of anything suspicious!" said Decker. "I don't know. Documents, that kind of thing."
"The information must be kept somewhere!" said Barzini, warming to the theme. "Could Dr. Prince have it locked away in her office? Perhaps in a safe?"
It was the word "safe" that did it. Kathy suddenly remembered the last time she had seen Alice Prince at ViroVector. It had been in the Womb just after she had been told about the FDA approval. When Alice had tried to shield her tray of precious vials before hurriedly placing them back in her safe, Kathy had assumed it was her usual paranoia. Prince's refrigerated strongbox had always been a standard feature in the Womb, somewhere for her pet projects, and no one, least of all Kathy, had ever paid it much heed.
She rose from the table and went to the small pile of belongings they had taken from Matty's home. She picked the laptop and cell phone off the top and brought them back to the table. She plugged the laptop modem into the cell phone, she logged on to the main menu of ViroVector's network manager, and clicked on to the access authorization schedule. She let out a small "yes" of satisfaction. Her hunch had been correct. Her name was still there with a silver key beside it. Alice and Madeline had been so confident she was going to be out of the way that they hadn't bothered to tell TITANIA to deny her physical access to the buildings.
"Have you found something?" asked Luke.
"Well, I know one place we can look."
"Yes?" said Barzini.
"In the storage fridges at ViroVector all samples are tagged with an electronic bar code. When a computer laser wand is waved over this code, it automatically opens a file in the main computer, regardless of who's waving the wand. That file contains all the technical data on the sample and a summary of project objectives and background. It makes it easy for scientists working in difficult conditions to get quick access."
Decker nodded, renewed fire in his eyes. "The bar code gives you the project background and the formula specs for each sample? And there's no other code you need to access this?"
"No, but you do have to get hold of the sample and run TITANIA's computer wand over it. You see, the vials I'm thinking about are already in a very secure place."
Barzini smiled. "No place is completely secure."
"This comes pretty close. It's in a safe in a BioSafety Level Five lab called the Womb. Believe me, it's not as comfortable as it sounds."
Briefly she told them about the Womb: its security measures, the protective clothing procedure, the contamination risks, and the vials in the locked steel safe she had seen Alice Prince closing when she was last there. "I reckon I can still get in because they haven't wiped me off the security register. TITANIA controls all security with cameras, alarms, and steel barriers. The locks are DNA-coded, but my profile appears to still be active. Once inside, though, I'll need help breaking into the safe. And help getting stuff out."
"Don't worry about the safe," said Barzini. "If you describe it or give me a model name, I can probably find someone who'll rig up something to help you."
Kathy thought for a moment. "It's black, about waist-high, with a large silver dial on the front. And it's refrigerated. There's a brand name in big red letters across the top of the door. Something like Lemka, with a number after it. One hundred and one, I think."
Barzini nodded his head. "Big red letters? Refrigerated? Sounds like a Lenica One Zero One. Swiss. Very good, but not impregnable with a correctly set-up quantum pulse box."
"What?" asked Kathy.
"Don't worry, it's an electronic code breaker," explained Decker. "We'll go into that later. But if we find anything, what do we take out as evidence? Surely everything will be contaminated."
Kathy had thought of this already. "We take out only information, nothing else." She turned to Barzini. "Have you got a pencil and paper?"
He passed her a pen. "Use your napkin."
Quickly she sketched an elevation view of the main dome, showing the concentric circles of the underground BioSafety laboratory complex drilling down to the hospital and morgue beneath it. "Much of the action at ViroVector happens underground. Apparently there are safety tunnels leading to and from the lab complex but only Gold clearance employees know the codes to the airtight doors. We'll have to use the ground-floor entrance of the main dome to enter the lab complex."
She pointed at the center of the underground lab complex on the napkin. "I'll go down to the Womb here. Assuming Joey can tell me how to get into the safe and I find something, then I'll be able to scan it." She pointed to the ground-floor level of the dome. "But, Luke, I'll need you to wait up in the anteroom above the complex. There's a terminal and a printer here. The terminal can be used to transfer data onto a hi-data digital disc and the printer to generate hard copy. You turn on the printer and insert a blank disc into the terminal. I then send topline data from the Womb terminal to the printer and copy the detailed stuff to the blank disc. It's standard practice to get info out of the Womb, avoiding contamination."
Decker nodded. "OK, but how do we get in and out without being spotted or challenged?"
"Well, with Silver clearance I can sign one other person in as long as he submits to a DNA scan. But we've still got to--"
"Hey, hey, hey. That's enough for tonight," said Barzini, standing up and raising his two huge hands. "You know what you're after and where you think it is. That's great. Now it's time for you both to get some sleep. Let me make a few calls, and by tomorrow morning I should have some people to help you with surveillance, transport, and equipment. They'll know the best way to get in and out of the campus, and they'll supply a pulse box and safe for you to practice on." Barzini smiled. "These people are very good at what they do, but I must stress they have nothing to do with me." His smile broadened. "Sadly not all of my family is as law-abiding as I am."
Chapter 29.
The Oval Office, Washington, D.C. Friday, November 7, 9:30 A.M.
First came relief and euphoria, then concern and finally fear. The administration ran through the extremes of emotions on the morning after the dramatic Iraqi retreat. The concern and fear came later, though, when Pamela Weiss received more information.
The secretary of defense and the secretary of state were tired but smiling when they accompanied the uniformed chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff into the Oval Office at nine-thirty that morning. The usually sober trio had an almost discernible spring in their gaits; they were men who had received a stay of execution.
At first the Iraqi volte-face seemed inexplicable. The first reports of a mystery epidemic ravaging the Iraqi Army arrived via the CIA and Britain's MI5 at eleven that morning. Again the initial reaction was positive. The nation was a known belligerent, and therefore anything that affected its military capabilities was regarded as beneficial. Such infections were common on military bases where troops lived in close proximity to one another.
At one-forty in the afternoon sketchy intelligence reported that the mystery illness was more serious than the usual epidemics, that it led to either suicide or brain hemorrhage and appeared to be already spreading to the civilian population. Another report claimed that all sufferers had been men.
The fact that the epidemic, if that's what it was, wasn't understood and that it was spreading caused the President and her advisers grave concern for the wider implications. It was immediately agreed by the UN and the World Health Organization that all of Iraq's borders, which were already strictly patrolled, should be sealed, allowing no one in or out. The country was effectively to be put into quarantine.
But it was the symptoms the more detailed reports were outlining that gave cause for greater worry. Reaching into a drawer in the impressive desk that dominated the Oval Office, President Weiss pulled out two sheets of typed paper. She frowned when she read the second page. After asking her advisers to leave the office for a moment, she reached for the secure phone and began dialing a number she knew by heart. Then she paused for a second before deciding against it.
It was a minute past 2:00 P.M. in Washington, therefore just 11:00 A.M. in San Francisco. She dialed one of the two numbers at the bottom of the s
heet of paper. When she received no reply, she tried the second number, hoping it might be his office. A woman answered.
"I'm sorry," the woman said, not even asking who was calling. "I'm Mr. Butcher's personal assistant, and I was expecting him to return from Washington last night, but for some reason he missed his flight. I'm expecting him to turn up or call in at any moment. I apologize, but it's very unusual for him not to tell me of his whereabouts. Can I take a message? I'm sure he'll get back to you as soon as he can."
"No, that's fine," said the President, her face pale. "I'll call later." She took a deep breath and asked the White House operator to put her through to Fort Detrick in Maryland. "This is the President. I need to speak to the commander immediately."
Within seconds Major General Thomas Allardyce, M.D., of the U.S. Army Research Institute of Infectious Diseases, was on the line. "Hello, Madam President, I assume you're calling about the computer disc Agent Toshack brought me."
"Yes, I hope you've still told no one else about it, not even within USAMRIID." She drawled the abbreviation phoneti
cally, "you sam rid."
"Of course not."
"What can you tell me?"
"Well, it contains two copies of an individual's genome. Except they're not exact copies. The second contains subtle changes in seventeen of the genes."
"What would those subtle changes do?"
"Well, quite a lot."
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