Pestilence (Jack Randall #2) (20 page)

While they may have been similar in their mission, on a structural level the fictional Terminator and the real virus were very different. While the Terminator was the product of the computer age, a virus was made up of a single strand of DNA or RNA, encased in a membrane of protein. The genetic strand was simply a long molecule containing the instructions for making more viruses. There was much debate over whether viruses were actually alive or not as they existed somewhere in between life and nonlife. They switched from one aspect to the other as their environment changed.

A virus that was outside a living host might form a crystal or protective barrier and have no metabolic activity. Essentially they were dead. If this virus should come in contact with a living cell and managed to attach to its surface, the cell will feel the virus’s presence and engulf it, drawing it inside its own membrane.

This was to the cell’s own demise as the virus was a parasite which cannot survive without the aid of another living cell. Once inside the new host, the virus comes to life and quickly takes over the cell’s processes, reprogramming them to do nothing but manufacture copies of the virus. This goes on until the cell can no longer contain the population of virus within its membrane and it simply explodes, destroying itself, and releasing millions of viruses to repeat the process on other cells. If enough cells are destroyed, the host dies. Any virus particles that are unable to find a new host will either die, or adopt the dormant stage, awaiting the opportunity of a new host.

This made it easy for Dr. Miles to compare the virus with the Terminator. Viruses were much like machines, they had a purpose, to replicate themselves, but it was strictly a mechanical process. There was no real intelligence behind their methods. They simply did what they do, and they would never stop.

Jim always had these thoughts in the back of his head when working in his lab. He knew how bad things could get. He had seen the results of bio-warfare experiments. At first his fascination had overridden any moral dilemma and he had pursued his experiments with great curiosity. By the time he was able to fully comprehend what he and a few others had created it was too late. He had left the program as quickly as he could. He now worked with vaccines, creating ways to stop viruses instead of creating newer, more powerful ones.

But in order to beat a virus one first had to identify it. Pick it apart, learn its mission, and then find a way to weaken it. Once weakened it could be introduced to the host and the host’s natural defenses would do battle and learn to defeat it in the future.

He reached for a stack of Petri dishes and set about filling them with blood agar in order to culture whatever was in the vials. It would take some time. Fortunately he determined his own schedule.

•      •      •

“So what’s next?” Jack asked his boss.

They sat in a quiet Georgetown bar for an after hours meeting. To Jack’s surprise it had been Deacon’s idea. Evidently his radar was giving him signals he didn’t like, just as Jack’s had been.

Deacon swallowed a healthy amount of Bombay before he gave Jack his reply.

“I’m not sure. You’re being reassigned to the DC office as a liaison with Homeland Security. Evidently the brass feels you’re in a good position after this last mission to help us all play nice together. I can’t really say that I disagree with that. Homeland just seems to get bigger every day. No doubt this bombing will kill any efforts to rein in their budget. They’ll get whatever they want for awhile.”

“But?” Jack prompted.

“But it may be just a ploy by the senator to keep an eye on you for awhile. Remember, he sees just about everything. Most of us department heads don’t like it. The damn Senate and Congress are the main source of the leaks that make it out. The CIA has the same grip. Every time they lose an agent or an operation gets exposed, its due to some politician playing “Guess what I know?” The Attorney General won’t step up. He’s in the senator’s pocket. I get the feeling we’re being used and I don’t like it. Nobody uses us, not me, not you, and not the FBI. Not if I have anything to say about it.”

“So what do you want me to do?”

Deacon swirled the ice and remaining gin in his glass before draining it. He set it down firmly before looking up at Jack.

“I went over the tape. The Senator never ordered us
not
to investigate the medication situation. So we’re going to do what we do and investigate.”

They shared a mischievous grin before Jack replied.

“I figured as much. I have the vials being analyzed. We hope to have the results soon. Wait, let me rephrase that. At least we’ll know what it
isn’t
fairly soon.”

“Okay, let’s keep this close to our chest for now. Is there anything you need?”

Jack thought this over for a moment while he finished his beer. “Do you know if any of our embassy liaisons are in DC right now? I mean ones from outside North America.”

“I know Marty Ripaldi from the Peruvian office is in town for his daughter’s wedding. Other than that I’d have to check. You know Marty?”

“Yeah, we’ve met once or twice. I may have to catch him before he leaves.”

“I’ve got this trip to Israel with the director coming up. I won’t be around to watch your back. Do I want to know what you’re going to ask Marty about?”

Jack shook his head.

“Probably not.”

Professor warns of global food riots.
April 28, 2009—The Independent
 

—FOURTEEN—

K
imball leaned back in the chair as far as it would go and stretched out his legs. His lunch sat uneaten on the desk not far from his feet as he read the report on the test they had run.

It appeared to be a success. The dispersal devices, cleverly disguised as rocks, had distributed an aerosol spray of droplets 200 microns in size to a height of five feet for thirty seconds. All with a minimum amount of noise to prevent any birds in the area of being scared away before they’d had a chance to inhale the agent. It had been determined by earlier testing that the average bird needed a minimum of three to four particles in its lungs for the agent to take effect. Once it did, the infection would start, and the bird would suffer a few days of illness before it recovered and became a carrier—a natural world-wide distributor.

He flipped past a few pages of charts before he found what he needed next. The lab had also measured the agent’s survivability in a variety of lab environments. It seemed to survive for only a few minutes in what was deemed average sunlight. The UV rays destroyed the genetic makeup of the agent’s DNA, making it either dead or unable to reproduce. Either way it ceased to be infectious at that point. Introducing it in the dark increased its lifetime by only another forty percent. Other environmental factors such as cold, heat and humidity were also factored in, but were shown to be well within the parameters they had targeted.

John flipped the report shut and tossed it on the desk next to his lunch. He allowed himself a contented smile. They may have finally done it. After all the years of research and all the money spent, they may have found the keys to the solution. Not one key as they had striven for at first, but two. It was both an elegant and simple solution. There was still some testing to be done, but for the first time since he had entered the project, John felt they were very close.

His thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of the phone on the desk next to his feet and sandwich. He stared at it in irritation for another ring before moving to pick up the receiver.

“Kimball.”

“We may have a problem. Are you alone?”

“Yes.”

“I believe I was followed home yesterday. I can’t be sure, but I thought it safer to tell you. Did you have anyone trailing me?”

“No. Did you get a look?”

“Not a good one. I only saw the tail twice. I may be wrong.”

Kimball paused to consider the options. They had limited personnel, most of his people were expected to take care of themselves and basically operate alone.

“For now just keep an eye out and continue as normal. We’ll break contact for awhile. Just report if you think it’s truly necessary. I’ll see if I can free someone up to follow you for awhile and spot any tails. Do you have anything new to report?”

“One item, more of a suspicion really, but I think the feds may have some of the agent. No more than a vial or two.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Mr. Randall didn’t seem too upset about losing it. He just seemed to dwell on the reason why it was destroyed. I think he may have pocketed a few vials before they were cleaned up. Or maybe the woman on his team, Sydney Lewis, she may have it.”

“Both agents?”

“They were mixed together at the warehouse, strewn all over the red end like they were moving them when the blast happened. They had just been delivered that morning, right?”

“Yes, less than an hour before the detonation. Have you been questioned about them?”

“No, not yet. I’m waiting for the follow-up questions to my report to come in. So far I haven’t been asked anything I didn’t expect.”

“Good, you know what to do if that happens?”

“Yes.”

John hung up without another word. He stared at the receiver in his hand for a moment before checking the time. Was it a good time to make the call? Screw it, from what he heard the man was
always
busy. He dialed the number from memory.

“Yes?”

“One of my people is maybe being followed. I’m sending someone to confirm. Are you aware of whom this tail is?”

“No.”

“They also suspect that Randall and Lewis may have samples of the agent.”

There was a long pause as the man swallowed this information. Kimball waited patiently.

“I will have someone look into this. Anything else?”

“The test was conducted and everything looks good. I have forwarded a copy through to you. I believe we are ready to start the sea trials.”

“I’d like to see the data before the trials start, but you may put things in motion.”

“Yes, sir. You’ll look into the tail situation?”

“Yes, but for now proceed as scheduled.”

“Yes, sir.”

Kimball stared at the dead receiver in his hand for a moment before cradling it. Were they just being paranoid? Were they paranoid enough? Taking action to determine some unknowns increased the chance of discovery if mistakes were made, and mistakes would be made. It was inevitable. The fact that this program had remained in operation without discovery was a miracle. Was it the fact that they were getting close to the end raising his paranoia? Maybe, but it was his job to be paranoid. Could they afford not to take action? He wasn’t sure. He didn’t have all the resources to know that. He could only hope the man on the other end of the phone did. He would have to just trust that the man did and make sure he was ready with his part of the project when the time came.

He picked up the phone yet again and dialed another number. The man on the other end answered in English with a hint of a Spanish accent. John had simple instructions;

“You may put phase one of the sea trials in motion. I’ll need progress reports daily.”

“Very good.”

Warning: Oil supplies are running out fast.
August 3, 2009—The Independent
 

—FIFTEEN—

J
ack guided the Cadillac through the streets of DC with practiced skill. He avoided the traffic circles and darting taxi cabs with ease. He knew his usual driving tended to cause his wife some tension, so tonight he was taking careful measures to avoid that. While the Cadillac was a luxurious car with available performance if he felt he needed it, it was not quite up to his Corvette. He felt strangely elevated in it as he was used to his butt being only inches from the road when he navigated the DC traffic.

But it was late evening in DC, and Jack had reserved a table for Debra and himself at the Cosmo Club. It was a place of impeccable food, an extensive wine list and extraordinary service. One of DC’s finest. Debra had been hinting at a night out since his return.

Jack personally could do without the fancy club. While he knew the meal would be excellent, it was the people he knew they would run into that he could do without. The club was the primary place to see and be seen by the Washington elite. Senators, congressman, White House staffers, generals and admirals from every branch of service, and even the occasional Supreme Court justice were all listed as members and frequented the establishment regularly.