Decker assembled the facts. The plane had been government or military, and the ease with which the van had met it on the airport tarmac confirmed that they had landed at no ordinary commercial airport.
At least on the ground there was a chance of escape.
Decker smiled wearily at Kathy. She looked pale and tired, but she smiled back.
Decker turned then to the shorter agent. From his relaxed body language he looked like the leader. "Do you know what's on those discs you took from us?"
The man's face remained impassive as if he hadn't heard the question. Decker spoke again, calmly as if to an ally. "Don't you even want to know what's on the discs?" he said, feeling the anger build inside him. "You should, because it'll involve you two sooner than you think. Doesn't that bother you just a little?"
Still, the man said nothing.
Decker prided himself on keeping control, on using reason to solve most things, but now he allowed the hurt and anger of the last few days to build. As his rage and frustration peaked, the van came to a sudden stop, and he made his move.
There was no plan, no coolly timed stratagem, only an opportunist explosion of vented energy. As the van engine died, both his captors visibly relaxed and looked toward the driver's cabin. At that moment Decker leaped forward and using his bound hands as a club brought them down on the side of the larger man's head, felling him to the floor of the van. Extending the same fluid movement, he swung his clasped hand to his right in a double-handed tennis backhand, smashing back against the smaller man's jaw and catapulting his head against the side of the van. His knuckles burned with pain as he felt one pop with the impact. "Grab his gun," Decker shouted, feeding off the adrenaline surging through him.
Kathy bent and scrabbled through the felled man's clothes and came up with a black revolver. Decker did the same with the other man, who, still conscious, lay sprawled against the side of the van, clutching his head. He also picked up the tote bag lying next to his feet and kicked it toward the van doors. He paused for a moment, considering how to unlock them, when suddenly they opened.
Raising his gun, he leveled it at a small group of outlines silhouetted against the night sky. An imposing female figure stepped forward. She was flanked by four men, their guns
drawn and pointing directly at him.
"Oh, my God," said Kathy behind him.
Decker's jaw dropped. What was she doing here?
"What the hell is going on here?" The woman's voice was firm and commanding. Looking first at Kathy and then at Decker, she peered beyond him to the sandy-haired man groggily rising to his feet. "Special Agent Toshack, what happened?" the woman demanded. She looked tired and pale, but her manner indicated total control. "I told you to bring them to me, not fight with them."
Stunned, Decker turned and watched the man stumble to his fallen colleague, who was also beginning to stir. Toshack rubbed his chin and gave Decker a rueful grin. "I think Special Agent Decker here had his own ideas about that. And he's got a pretty good way of expressing them."
"How's Brown?" she demanded.
The man checked his groaning partner. "He'll live."
The woman shook her head in disgust and then, ignoring Decker's gun, extended an open hand toward Kathy. "Welcome to Fort Detrick, Dr. Kerr. Now that I've ascertained we're both on the same side I'm very pleased to meet you. I'm Pamela Weiss."
Kathy shook her hand in dumb silence.
Weiss then turned to Decker and gestured to the tote bag at his feet. "Special Agent Decker, are you going to shoot me? Because if you're not, can I have whatever it is you took from ViroVector?"
Decker didn't move for a second, still trying to work out whose side she was on. Finally he lowered his gun and picked up the bag, holding it close to him. "I think we all want to see what's on these discs, Madam President."
Chapter 33.
ViroVector Solutions, Palo Alto. Saturday, November 8, 10:09 A.M.
Two senior ViroVector scientists discovered the chrome electronic gadget in the Womb on Friday morning. Working on a deadline to develop a viral vector for Alzheimer's disease, they had been incensed to find that part of their allocated refrigerator space had been annexed.
When they complained to Alice Prince, her initial reaction had been annoyance. The last thing she needed was a petty dispute about lab resources. But when no one could identify the chrome box or knew how it had got there, her irritation changed to concern.
She donned her biological space suit and entered the Womb to examine the box, which had apparently been concealed in a tray at the base of one of the refrigerators. She interrogated TITANIA, which informed her that only authorized personnel had entered the Womb in the last few days. As a matter of course TITANIA listed all entrants to the biolab suite and the Womb. Scanning the list on the monitor, Alice gasped when she saw Kathy Kerr's name, and she was shocked to learn that she and Luke Decker had entered last night. It was impossible. Both Alice and Madeline had actually been on-site. But then she remembered that she hadn't canceled Kathy's Silver clearance; Madeline had said it wasn't necessary. As far as TITANIA was concerned,
Kathy Kerr was still authorized to come and go as she pleased.
With a beating heart Alice moved to the safe and punched in the code on the electronic keypad. Opening the door, she peered in and pulled out the tray, checking the tamper-evident caps on the vials. Everything appeared as it had been. Then she picked up one of the Crime Zero vials and ran a computer wand over it. Looking at the nearest monitor, she saw the project menu appear. In the bottom right-hand corner were the time and date of the last scan: 2116 on November 7. Yesterday.
Alice moved back to the speakerphone and with a heavy heart prepared to tell Madeline Naylor.
Heathrow Airport, London. The Same Day, 2:12 P.M.
Heathrow has always been among the world's busiest airports. In 2005, when the first phase of Terminal 5 opened, it became the undisputed number one. A town in its own right, the complex employed more than one hundred thousand people and processed almost eighty million passengers a year.
Amid the Saturday afternoon throng of people, no one was even aware that three of the embarkation and disembarkation tunnels had been closed for two hours. Passengers were diverted to other departure gates, and the disruption was minimal. Few paid any heed to the two men in blue overalls entering the closed departure gates with a cart of white cardboard boxes, each bearing the same brand name as the one stamped on the back of their overalls, Air-Shield Industries. At the base of the carton was a small line of blue type to denote that AirShield Industries was a subsidiary of ViroVector Solutions, Palo Alto, California.
It was a routine task. The computer had informed the operatives that certain cartridges were exhausted and had itemized the exact serial number of the replacement from the inventory. They were doing what they were told. Neither of them considered questioning the task. They had no way of knowing the consequences of their actions.
The departure gate ahead was deserted, and the display that usually showed the flight number and destination now flashed "Closed for Maintenance." Like most major airports, Heathrow used bacteriophage air purifiers on its embarkation and disembarkation tunnels. Passengers were largely unaware of being sterilized by the bacteria-destroying phage as they left or boarded the plane. Only a slight breeze perfumed with a fresh soapy fragrance made them even notice the phage-rich air. The process was simply accepted as a sensible precaution.
Stepping through the deserted passport and ticket control, past the empty rows of seats for waiting passengers, the maintenance men entered a service hatch marked "Authorized Staff Only," leading down to a series of interconnecting walkways beneath each tunnel to access the individual phage purifier cartridges. Once inside, the men left their cart at the top of the steps and walked down to a lower level with a carton each. Ahead was a long chrome corridor with rows of airtight doors to their left. Each door was numbered, corresponding with the individual departure gate above.
Using a key, the first man watched door number 28 slide open, revealing a crawl space beneath the bacteriophage air tunnel. The second man walked on to the adjacent gate. Crouched down, the first man made his way into the small inspection chamber and quickly located the two-foot square flue of the air purification system protruding from the ceiling. He removed the grille from the flue to reveal a red button marked "Seal" and a green light. Beside the button was a lever that released from its bracket the cylindrical magazine of six vials, each containing a distinct bacterium-specific bacteriophage.
Pressing the button, he watched the airtight door slide shut behind him. When the green light changed to red, indicating that no new air was entering or leaving the tunnel, the man checked the number on the carton, opened it, removed the replacement cartridge, and placed it on the floor.
He then reached up and pulled the lever, freeing the magazine already in place. Carefully checking that there was no breakage, he removed the magazine and placed it in the empty carton. As always he briefly examined the cylindrical cluster of six glass vials and was surprised that most of them seemed at least half full. He didn't question it; he only operated on the computer's instructions.
Without a second thought he quickly inserted the replacement cartridge into the purifier. There was no difference between the two canisters. Any slight change in color in one of the vials didn't interest him. It wasn't his job. He also ignored the fact that there was a minute high-power radio antenna in one corner of the casing. After replacing the grille on the flue, he picked up his carton and left the crawl space. Another task completed.
Once he used to tell himself that his job was important because he helped protect people's health, but now he didn't care about what he did. It paid the mortgage.
He might have cared today if he'd known that ten maintenance men just like him and his partner, in five other airports across the globe, had unwittingly helped change the world forever.
Chapter 34.
USAMRIID, Fort Detrick, Maryland. Saturday, November 8, 12:23 P.M.
"You've all seen the topline data from the discs Dr. Kerr and Special Agent Decker took from ViroVector. We know from the Phase Three disc that remote activation is planned in the very near future. So we have to assume and plan for the worst.
"Plus we need a full strategy for attacking the Iraq Phase Two epidemic with contingencies should it leak. No one here should stand on ceremony or rank. Say what you think. And if we need anybody else on the team, for God's sake get them on board now. This is a National Security Directive Seven. It doesn't get more serious than this."
President Weiss looked drawn as she addressed the task force gathered around the table in the main conference room. Kathy understood why the President was taking such a personal interest in this. If she felt bad about Alice Prince and Madeline Naylor's using her work on Project Conscience to develop and test their abomination, then Weiss must be devastated. They were her trusted friends. Project Conscience had helped elect her. And now Alice Prince and Madeline Naylor had turned what she thought was their shared dream into a nightmare.
Kathy had since learned that the alarming similarity between Axelman's symptoms and those of the Peace Plague in Iraq had galvanized Weiss into sending Toshack in search of her. Armed with a faculty photograph from Stanford, Toshack and his men had tailed the FBI director, believing she would lead them to her. Last night, after following Director Naylor to the ViroVector campus, they had challenged and neutralized the men in Frankie Danza's van, parked a short distance up the road from them, and waited for Luke and Kathy to emerge.
Since arriving three hours ago, Kathy and Decker had time only for a meal, a scan of the discs, and some hasty introductions. Now Kathy sat back and scanned the table. Next to Decker sat the President of the United States of America, along with six other people trying to make sense of madness.
The large black man in uniform on Weiss's right was General Linus Cleaver, the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. To his right was a square-jawed man also in uniform. Major General Thomas Allardyce, M.D., was the commander of USAMRIID, although he asked everyone to call him Tom. Next to him was a thin-faced woman with long dark hair and quick, intelligent eyes. Dr. Sharon Bibb ran the Epidemic Investigation Service at the CDC in Atlanta. Beside her was Assistant Director Bill McCloud of the FBI. A tall, lean man with a buzz cut and a southern drawl, he had relevant experience with the bureau's Hazardous Materials Response Unit. He and Luke knew each other already. The other two men were Todd Sullivan, Pamela Weiss's new chief of staff, and Jack Bloom, who headed the Doomsday Committee. Part of the National Security Agency, the Doomsday Committee existed solely to brainstorm the bleakest of disaster scenarios and lay down plans should they arise. The very fact that he was here was implicitly terrifying.
Major General Allardyce spoke first, indicating the deck of charts in front of each of them that summarized the discs' contents. "I suggest we make sure we all understand the full implications of Crime Zero before we assign responsibilities and agree on the next steps. Kathy, since you're the closest to this, would you summarize the three phases as you see them?"
Glancing at the charts in front of her, Kathy briefly outlined the Project Conscience background. She could see Pamela Weiss grimace as she explained how Alice Prince and Madeline Naylor had used Kathy's research on Conscience to develop a gender-specific vector.
Kathy sipped at her glass of water. "Phase One was a test on six prisoners at San Quentin, including Karl Axelman. They inserted the modified genes into an attenuated viral vector, which inserted itself into the stem cells of the patient. This meant that the treatment--if I can call it that--affected only the person it was injected into. The vector targeted the cells in the hypothalamus in the brain and the testes. The new genetic instructions boosted all hormone and neurotransmitter levels to literally mind-blowing proportions, on the one hand, stimulating their aggression while at the same time racking them with suicidal guilt. The main aim of that phase was to check that the treatment would first render the patient incapable of violent deeds and then kill him in a given time frame."
"Given time frame?" asked Todd Sullivan, the President's chief of staff.
"If the vector and the modified genes within it were engineered correctly, the patient's age at death could be genetically predetermined."
"How?" asked Dr. Bibb as she checked her charts. "By using the length of the telomeres?"
"Exactly."
"What are telomeres?" asked General Cleaver.
Kathy looked at Sharon Bibb to see if she wanted to answer, but she smiled as if to give Kathy the floor. "They are the protective tips on the ends of chromosomes, like those on the end of shoelaces. As we get older, our cells divide and the telomeres erode. If the virus is so engineered, it could recognize a host's age by their length. You must understand that Alice Prince has an incredible array of vectors. She can do almost whatever she wants.
"Phase Two was intended to move from an isolated test to a real-life situation. They chose a belligerent nation because they wanted to show the power of their vision, I guess to impress people that they could stop war. After all, what greater violent crime is there?"
"I think they particularly wanted to impress you, Madam President," said Decker quietly.
Pamela Weiss frowned but said nothing.
Kathy continued. "The disc clearly shows that they used a single corrupted sample of BioShield vaccine to start the infection. Iraq, like most military powers, is a client of Vi-roVector's. It would have ordered a supply of DNA vaccines to protect its troops, and it wouldn't be hard for Alice Prince to instruct TITANIA, the computer that runs ViroVector, to insert one corrupted sample in the batch sent to them. Unlike Phase One, this vector is infectious. It's a hand-to-mouth agent, passed on by contact."
"But why didn't they use a more infectious vector right off?" asked Jack Bloom.
"I think they needed to ensure it could be contained if it misbehaved," Kathy replied. "Iraq is effec
tively a trial of the treatment on a larger scale, both in terms of who it affects and, as important, who it doesn't. This vector is designed to infect everyone, whereas the DNA modifier within the vector is designed to affect only men. Alice Prince and Madeline Naylor wanted to make sure that their smart assassin killed only what it was aimed at."
"According to our intelligence, that's happening," said General Cleaver. "It appears that no children or women in Iraq have caught the disease yet."
Kathy nodded and chewed her lip. "They've probably caught it; they're just carrying it without any symptoms. The brilliance of the Crime Zero vector is that it targets only what it's meant to, but it uses everyone as a carrier. Ebola and Marburg burn out because most often their victims die before they can pass it on. Crime Zero isn't like that. Phase Two lives on; there's no end zone."
"But how the hell are they coordinating all this?" asked McCloud, the FBI man. "Pandemic plagues are nightmares to contain. How do they expect to get one to do their bidding?"
"Through TITANIA, ViroVector's supercomputer," said Kathy. "Alice Prince and Madeline Naylor are the composers. But TITANIA is almost certainly the conductor, orchestrating everything, monitoring each phase before moving on to the next one. And the last phase is the really clever one. Phase Three is the killer."
Kathy flicked through the deck of charts in front of her, her hands trembling as she came to the last charts. "The Phase Three vector overrules everything that went before. If a person has been exposed to Phase Two, Phase Three will overwrite any genetic changes with its own. This vector is a piece of genius. Like Phase Two, it infects everyone but affects only some of the population. And even those effects differ according to the age of the victim. This combines the best of Conscience and the worst of Crime Zero. It's frighteningly clever."
Crime Zero (aka the Crime Code) (1999) Page 26