Racing along the Ventura Freeway on his way back to Los Angeles after a quick inspection tour of Santa Barbara's operation, McCarthy gets a call from Laurie telling him that something had happened to LaJoy and that he was needed back ASAP. He pushed the accelerator, just to the point of breaking the speed limit. Driving past Malibu Creek State Park, the oak and chaparral landscape becomes visible from the highway. Due to winter, and perhaps the ominous invasion of EWK-1, the lush verdant green of the grasses and scrubs has been replaced a more bland yellow. Park rangers had reported that numbers of birds, hedgehogs, beetles, and flatworms that feed on the earthworms had decreased in the past month. They were worried that in another month or two the second-level predators in the Park, such as the golden eagle, would start feeling the effect as soon as there weren't enough gulls, robins, or beetles for them to feed on adequately. It was likely that the eagles and bobcats in the Park system would diversify or move on to new sources of prey.
The towers and encircling sprawl of Los Angeles comes into view. Within half an hour McCarthy is in downtown and running up the steps of City Hall. He sees Laurie coming down, the steps, and greets her halfway. "Hey! What happened?" "He got hit by a car.", replied Laurie, worry written on her face. "I don't know how, maybe he wasn't looking.. . .", she trails off. "Someone better tell Onassis." "He knows. Hey have you read about China?" "Yes. No idea how it could be doing that. Maybe it's evolving really quickly." "That's what our scientists say." "I better see what Krishna has, and see if I can get Onassis." Laurie walks off, heading back to UCLAs lab. McCarthy goes through security and sees Rodriguez walking through. "Hey, what're you up to?", he asks Gonzalo. "Oh, I'm just going over to the Park Ranger station. What about you? Hey, you heard about LaJoy, hope he's going to be ok." "Yeah, me too. I'll catch you later." McCarthy takes the elevator into his office, where he first dials Krishna. After leaving him a message, he dials Onassis's number. After waiting several minutes, the Secretary comes on the line.
"Ah, McCarthy. Look, I've just received word that LaJoy was run over by a car. He's in critical condition, and I don't have anyone in charge of USDA for the region anymore." "I see. Perhaps Laurence or Grogan? Anyone from Washington with the experience and time?" "Time yes, but experience no. You've got LaJoy's position until I find someone to fill in." McCarthy gulps. "What?. . . sir, really, I don't know if-" "Its temporary. Simply keep our research ongoing, get me some results." Onassis hangs up. Well, that was that. At least FEMA was responsible for the logistical burden of bringing the relief into the city. The research on EWK-1, on the other hand, was a joint enterprise that included the USDA.
McCarthy leans back in his chair, reveling in his new position but also thinking of all the new burdens that have now been placed on his shoulders. His first action is to contact the director of FEMA. "Hello?" "This is Dr. McCarthy, from USDA LA. I've taken over all USDA operation temporarily. I have a request, but I'll need your approval, as well as the Governor's." "What might that be?" "I think we need the National Guard in Los Angeles, at least to keep an eye out on our relief centers. I spoke briefly with the Commissioner, and he agrees that the force can't perform normal duties while simultaneously guarding our depots. A thousand to two-thousand soldiers should do the job." "You better talk to the Governor." "What do you think, though?", asks McCarthy, curious for the man's answer, "You run them, I'm just making an observation." "I would probably agree with you, we will need them. If not now, later. . . ", he purrs ominously, "LaJoy hated the idea after you mentioned it, but I tend to agree. Fine. Videoconference in fifteen minutes."
Twenty minutes later, McCarthy finds himself facing a screen with not only the director, but the Governor of California and a General McSteele of the National Guard as well. "Dr. McCarthy, it seems that both you, and the director, think that there is an inherent danger to our relief centers, and that you need the Guard in town.", states the Governor flatly, waiting for the explanation. "Sir, this report details every single recorded incident or theft that has occurred so far regarding the logistical supply chain.", McCarthy holds up a report that he knew the Governor had been brief on. "We have had over thirty incidents in ten days", he clarifies, "in which we've had fifteen people hospitalized. I feel that if it were Guard units protecting the centers instead of the LAPD, people would think twice before attempting any robbery or heist. In addition, it will give the people a sense that, things are in order for the time being until this crisis is over." The Governor, who already seemed to have made up his mind, replies, "The director brought this to my attention before you did, but LaJoy never was in favor. General?" "Sir, I can have three thousand troops in the city by tomorrow." "Great. It's settled, then. The National Guard will remain under the command of General McSteele; however, General you are to coordinate with the Mayor and the LAPD." The Governor terminates the quick conversation. The General quickly grunts, "However, FEMA isn't going to instruct us on how to deploy ourselves. I keep that prerogative." "Very well, General", answers the director, "We're just glad to have you here." The conversation ends shortly after the General cuts off the line.
McCarthy turns to phone McGregor at Stockton when the phone itself rings instead. The speaker quickly identifies himself as a USDA official in Washington, and even faster reports shocking news- "LaJoy is dead. He died of his injuries at the Hospital. The Secretary has instructed that you are to temporarily occupy his office until a permanent replacement can be appointed." "Thank you", McCarthy breathes. The receiver hangs up. McCarthy takes a deep breath, adjusting himself to the new reality. Even though LaJoy wasn't particularly close, nor particularly someone that McCarthy had much faith in, it comes as a surprise and shock to have him die so suddenly and unexpectedly, least of all in the middle of the current chaotic situation.
Reminding himself that life goes on, he starts reviewing the paperwork left on what used to be LaJoy's oak desk.
Rome, Italy
A mid-afternoon flight to Italy from Bangkok had left Manjak in Rome in the middle of the morning, allowing him to head without delay directly to FAO headquarters from the airport. Although it is a winter day, the sun's bright rays lend a superstar feeling to the awakening city, a feeling of radiance and power. Manjak walks into headquarters feeling full of energy. It would be a long day, and preparations had to be made as fast as possible if an emergency conference were to be held. On the way in, he walks by Bao who is walking in to her office, as the WFP houses its offices in the same building. "Trip! I haven't seen you in over a week! Where are you getting back from now?" "All over.", replies Manjak quickly, excitedly, "SE Asia. As it turns out EWK-1 has made some inroads into Asia proper, we developed a quick response plan to help isolate some of the lower countries, especially those with high production. Basically, though, we need to go through this over. Can you meet me at my office later this afternoon? 5:00pm?" "Four it is." Manjak continues walking through the halls, seeing the usual familiar faces of coworkers and colleagues, as well as the occasional diplomat. Getting to his office, he greets Maria Pereira with a quick cheek kiss and settles down into his chair.
Organizing an emergency world conference takes a huge amount of time, people, effort, networks, money, and in the modern world communications and IT services as well. A huge checklist is to be completed first: Inviting heads of state and government? Check. Inviting Ministers, Cabinet members, and other high level officials in related departments? Check. Inviting non-governmental agencies who have a keen interest in trying to help people themselves, or in some cases merely spend money without accomplishing much? Check. Inviting droves of globally renowned as well as relatively unknown scientists from the world's leading universities and research institutions to speak and present at discussion panels? Check. Contacting several think tanks and getting them to start 'thinking' about solutions to the EWK-1 crisis and presenting those solutions at the conference? Check. Coming up with a preliminary agenda for the conference and relaying it to all the invitees and guests for feedback? Check.
At
4:56 Bao walks in, waiting for him to finish a call. "Two weeks," states Manjak calmly. "This conference is happening in two weeks. Meanwhile, it is very likely that several countries will be hit hard by the spreading EWK-1 within that time period. Including most of central America, Korea, India, Vietnam, in the Asia-Pacific region. What's the status of your food reserves?" "I've been trying to get as many donations as possible.", she replies, "If EWK-1 were to somehow get to India though, there would be no way that our efforts would alleviate the shortage throughout all of Asia. And the reserves compiled over years' effort, will be used up in two, possibly three months." The weighty implications of her last sentence becomes abundantly clear.
FAO's ability to provide food will be gone within three months. World food production will decrease by the next harvesting season, varying by season across the globe. Ultimately, within twelve months from now any country affected by EWK-1 would have drastically reduced ability to produce its own food and no outside help, as no other country would be in a position to export food for fear of starving its own population. Unless the scientists and think-tanks thought up of an innovative solution that could be agreed upon in the next two weeks, civilization itself would be facing a life crippling strangulation.
UCLA
Surprised and upset over the unexpected arrest of Konovalov, Krishnan spent a good thirty minutes sitting in his swiveling armchair silently contemplating the chain of events that led to the present. Reminding himself that he was once again working with only fragments of a puzzle in his mind, he eventually comes out of his daze and wondered how he was going to get access to the GeneZTech files that Konovalov had referenced in his discussion before his arrest. The files were in the GeneZTech lab! How am I supposed to enter his private company lab without having a key, a card, an access code, anything?! The authorities were very obviously holding Konovalov responsible for the release of EWK-1 into the wild, although Krishnan was bothered by the lack of details. The outbreak was first reported in California, yet it was manufactured in Maryland. . . so first, how did it get there? Second who brought it there? How much of a hand did Konovalov have in the development of EWK-1, was it actually grown at NBACC or perhaps at GeneZTech? Did Konovalov know the purpose of the project, but didn't share it with anyone?
Krishnan figured that many of the answers to these questions would be answered if he could gain access into GeneZTech. But first, the most logical step would be to go through anything that Konovalov may have left here in LA. Krishnan once again walks downstairs to lab 204, now once again devoid of human life. The sterile tabletops and counters quietly beg him to remove equipment, open drawers, and dig through papers that are frozen back in time to the previous hour, when they were being worked on. Krishnan shuts down the main computer after sending all of Konovalov's paused research to his desktop. He spots another stack of research materials and folders and grabs them, feeling something cold and metallic underneath. Taking the folders off, he finds Konovalov's briefcase. Opening the briefcase, Manjak begins rummaging through pincers, microtubes, vials, notebooks, an old wallet, and other items. He meticulously opens each item, from the notebook to the striped tie. Opening the old crummy wallet, he finds several dollar bills, an expired driver's license, an presumably expired credit card, and a GeneZTech identification card. Krishnan, betting that the card is the key to GeneZTech's facility in Texas, pockets it. Another hour of overturning Konovalov's private items reveals nothing, until something starts ringing softly in the smaller secondary back room. Hurrying towards the sound, Krishnan finds a cellphone in a lockedcloset, which he presumes is also Konovalov's. The phone reads that a call is incoming from 'Natasha'. Ignoring the call, Krishnan opens up the slick razor-thin device and runs through all of Konovalov's past phone calls and messages, looking for something out of the ordinary. What is out of the ordinary for Viktor? -Sometimes his whole life is. . . Krishnan wonders if anything unusual will appear. . . . until he finds a message sent to Konovalov by Konovalov himself. Opening the text, Krishnan scans the time and date- today, right before he had summoned Krishnan down to reveal his business collaboration with NBACC. Did he know he was about to get arrested? Konovalov and everything about him and his company was getting stranger by the second. The text message is a simple set of numbers: 0-7-8-4-5-6-8-2-0. A set of numbers, puzzles Krishnan- that may be the code for accessing the GeneZTech network-in which case, it would mean that Konovalov knew he was going to be arrested and wants me to retrieve files for him. Or, he was getting the new code for his networks from one of his employees and intended to head back to Texas without telling me. Or its a code for something else. Or any number of other possibilities.
Taking a great chance by assuming that one of his first theories is correct and that the numbers are the key to GeneZTech, Krishnan wastes no time rushing back to his office with Konovalov's phone, collecting his keys, jacket, and other items, before bolting out the door. He walks out of the campus and gets into his car, revving the engine and quickly howling out of the parking lot onto the 405 heading south. Twenty minutes later he barrels across LAX's terminal towards a Ticket Counter. "Hi. Can you get me on the next available flight to Houston?"After a minute, she answers, "We can book you on Continental 202 departing in five hours." "That's fine." Five hours of critical thinking and magazines later, Krishnan is on a flight headed back to Houston.
The trip goes smoothly, leaving Krishnan at George Bush Intercontinental Airport three hours later. Finding his blue Honda Accord safely tucked away where he left it in the parking garage, Krishnan heads towards his friend's business. Approaching eleven o'clock at night, Krishnan wonders for a moment if he should head home and do this tomorrow morning. Realizing that the longer he waits, the longer whatever is in the files is left exposed, and that the night would provide the ideal cover of darkness for entering the laboratory discreetly, Krishnan presses forth. He stops by a gas station to grab a coke for the caffeine, being one who finds coffee repugnant. The caffeine and sugar mix should keep him slightly on edge and alert, as at this time of the night walking, or even driving alone around Houston is generally not the wisest of ideas- especially when your goal is to break in. Gulping down the remainder of the coke, Krishnan continues his journey. Another twenty minutes of driving leaves him slowly entering the parking lot of the dark hexagonal double-story structure that houses GeneZTech. Krishna scans around one hundred-eighty degrees, looking for other suspicious people, police, and dogs. He lowers his headlights, pretending to slowly spin around the building as if he were a lost driver in the middle of the night. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary in the vicinity, Krishnan parks the car a few meters from the building. He grabs a flashlight, gloves, and Konovalov's company card.
In ten seconds he is at the door, sliding the card down the scanning slot by the glass and steel-crossed door. Red. Krishnan tries again. The light blinks to green. Krishnan grabs the handle and yanks the door open, slipping inside and gently closing the door behind him as quietly as possible. No security systems have sounded, no alarms have gone off, and the interior is as deathly quiet and eerie as a graveyard. Having been inside the building before as a guest, Krishnan conjures up images from his previous trip and mentally maps the rooms. Turning on the flashlight, he slowly begins walking past the reception desk through the corridor. Making a left turn, he walks down a long, dark corridor, ears pricked ready to hear the slightest whisper, eyes darting around for the slightest hint of movement not his own. Walking another ten meters, he reaches a staircase. Tiptoeing as quietly as possible up the stairwell, he rounds a corner and flashes the light down to the end of the corridor along the second floor. Seeing nothing, he makes his way through the near pitch blackness towards Konovalov's office. Remembering his office was in to the left again, Krishnan stops at the door. Looking down at the door knob, he sees a combination lock. Ahh, thats what its for. Krishnan punches in 0-7-8-4-5-6-8-2-0, and sure enough the door unlocks with a low kluck! Krishnan walks into the dark office and closes the door.
With a click Konovalov's monitor hums to life, quickly asking Krishnan for a password. Krishnan, praying it works, types in the code again. ~Error.~ What? It must be! He types it in again. ~Error.~ Shit. Desperate, he punches in the numbers backwards. ~Welcome Viktor~ With Konovalov's home screen in front of his eyes, Krishnan wastes no time. Searching through the files for Project Deniability, he quickly locates a massive folder with hundreds of items. Copying the information onto his portable flash drive as well as sending himself a copy, Krishnan scans the computer for other relevant files. The download lasts four minutes. Seeing none, and already feeling like somewhat of a thief, Krishnan retrieves his flash, shuts down the computer, and slowly makes his way out of the office. Creeping through the eerie hallway, he gently makes his way back down the stairwell. He misses one step and trips, falling down four steps before catching himself on the side rail. The flashlight drops out of his hand, clinging against the cold tiled floor. Curses. Taking a few deep breaths to calm his racing heart, Krishnan picks up his flashlight and continues towards the entrance. Coming to the door, he opens it slowly, cautiously, taking a look outside as he steps back into the fresh night air. He notices an odd car parked at the far end of the parking lot, but is unable to make out the build. Taking the ten second walk to his own car, he hurriedly unlocks the vehicle and jumps in. He pulls out of the parking lot and rams the accelerator, speeding past trees and around concrete blocks on the way out. Once back onto the double lane main road Krishnan slows down to the speed limit and plots his way home. Forty-five minutes later he finds himself back in the safety of his own home.
Los Angeles, CA
McCarthy had just settled in to his new job and got off the phone with the Mayor of San Diego when the phone rang again. An unknown and gruff voice on the other end asks, "Director McCarthy?" "Yes." "This is Special Agent DiNapolitano calling from FBI Headquarters. I am calling to inquire as to the whereabouts and current assignment of Dr. Krishnan, recently reassigned from CBEID. Is he working under your supervision?" "Uhh, yes, he was requested by the USDA during the initial stages of the EWK-1 investigation. Why?" "I'm not at liberty to discuss details Mr. McCarthy. All I can tell you at the moment is that we have an Agent who would like to talk to you about your relationship with Dr. Krishnan in a few minutes time. He should be there shortly." "Ok." McCarthy, puzzled by the fact that the FBI has shown sudden interest in members of the scientific team, is left with little choice but to go with the tide.
He hangs up and continues to go over reports from several of the relief centers. Soon enough, a tall tanned man in a polished and pressed business suit and sunglasses knocks on his open door. "Special Agent Todd", he introduces himself as McCarthy waves him over to the seat directly in front of him. The Special Agent takes a seat while removing his sunglasses, hanging them on his breast pocket and bringing out a few papers from his briefcase.
"We have reason to believe that Dr. Krishnan is guilty of treason. As such, an arrest warrant has been issued for him.", the Agent states rather robotically. "An arrest warrant?" The man produces a copy of the warrant and places it on McCarthy's desk. "Here it is, authorized by the Dept. of Homeland Security." "We just had Dr. Konovalov arrested about two days ago. Now you want another one of our most important scientists?" "This isn't up to me, sir. I have three Agents heading to UCLA to arrest the Doctor as we speak. How long have you known Dr. Konovalov?" "I didn't know him until two months ago, when we started working together after the outbreak.", McCarthy admits, "for the past two months we have had a cordial business relationship, you might say. I don't interfere in his work, and he doesn't really have much to do with mine." "Did you notice anything suspicious about the man?" "Odd that you ask, I would have rather have been more suspicious of Konovalov, as he is from the former Soviet Union. No, from my experience both of them are ordinary, but brilliant, pioneers in their fields." "What do you know of Dr. Krishnan's private life?" "Not much, honestly. He has family in India, that's about it. Mentioned he met his wife here, at Harvard maybe?." "I see.", the Agent jots down several quick notes, although McCarthy has no doubt that he is taping the conversation out of sight as well. "That should work just fine.", says the agent reassuringly as he finishes off a pen touch. A phone rings, and the agent reaches into his breast pocket to retrieve a small razor-thin device. He listens quickly to the other end of the line, his outwardly demeanor quickly going sour.
He turns away from the cellphone and asks McCarthy coldly, "Krishnan is not present at UCLA. Do you know where he is? He is supposed to be doing his job, isn't he?" McCarthy, surprised, answers, "Yes. . . I suppose, you know, he is supposed to be there. He’s there every day." "Find his assistants, and question them.", orders the agent over the phone.
"He's supposed to be working on engineering or breeding a new species of earthworm", explains McCarthy to the un-amused agent, "I don't know why he isn't there. Did you ask Dr. Wang or one of his other associates for his whereabouts?" The agent doesn't reply. However, he quickly takes the advice and asks for Dr. Wang to be brought to the phone. Two whole minutes later, he barks, "Dr. Wang?" The man undoubtedly was jabbed out of his laboratory and dragged to an suitable place for a private cell phone conversation. McCarthy listens in while pretending to look for files in his drawers, even though he could only hear Agent Todd's side of the conversation. "Look, do you know where he is? Very simple. . . Ok. Where did he go? You don't know? Possibly Houston? Where else would he go? CBEID is where he works at normally, University of Texas. . . I see." Todd slams the blade-like phone shut, looking over at McCarthy. "Unusual case. Why would he go to Medical Branch at UTexas?", he asks McCarthy as if he knew the answer. Taking it as a rhetorical question from the Special Agent, McCarthy just gave him a stare before Todd decided to abruptly leave the premises and find out what was going on for himself. Shaking hands with McCarthy, the FBI official makes as quick an exit as he made his entrance.
Soon enough, McCarthy's desk phone rings again. However, this time it happens to be Wang. "Yes?" "Hello? This is Dr. Wang. Sorry to disturb you, Dr., but, what is all this commotion about? We are under investigation for something? First one, then another of our team being arrested? Many of us being questioned, what is going on?" "Relax., everything is fine, it's most likely simply a misunderstanding", reassures McCarthy, trying to dismiss the issue. The last thing we need is for all the scientists to start getting paranoid that they're next. Regardless of the poking around the FBI would likely do today amongst the scientists, McCarthy was forced to wonder why two of the best scientists in the country were ordered arrested, and what it might have to do with the secretive agendas and desires of individuals at NBACC and in Washington.
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