The Deadliest Strain

Chapter Five

Austyn didn't know what kind of reaction he'd expected, but this wasn't it.

"Dr. Banaz," he said again. "Did you hear me?"

She never moved. Her head must have been shaved a month or two ago, he noted. He could see nothing of her face, for she had her chin pressed against her chest. Her frame was small and she appeared to be physically fragile. Except for the lowered head, she appeared to be in a meditation posture. With the old wool blanket around her shoulders, the peacefulness of the pose reminded Austyn of images of Gandhi.

He crouched down just outside the door. The cell looked like a small kennel with a very low ceiling. He'd have to bend down to enter.

"Rahaf?" He called her by her first name. There was still no reaction. He stood up.

Captain Adams had led Matt and Austyn here. She was now giving them a knowing look. She shrugged.

"Would you like us to bring her out of there?" Adams asked quietly. "We can move her to one of the interrogation rooms."

Austyn shook his head. They would never get her to cooperate there. The scientist looked so thin. He looked at her arms and wrists, extending from the cover of the blanket. They were like twigs, he thought, frowning.

"When was the last time she ate?" Matt asked, obviously following the same path of Austyn's thoughts. She looked like she was starving herself to death.

Captain Adams turned to the female guard who was standing by the open door. The young soldier didn't have an answer, since the prisoner was moved into this cell only a few hours earlier. The captain turned to another guard behind them and ordered him to find out when the prisoner last ate.

"What would you like to do?" Adams asked, looking back at the two visitors.

As the ranking investigator, Austyn had been coached on the psychological aspects of interrogation before he left Washington, specifically on the interrogation of women. Despite the fact that the U.S. government had denied Rahaf's rights by hiding her for all these years without a trial, they were abiding by the Geneva Convention IV and Amnesty International guidelines regarding treatment of female detainees. Female guards had to be present during the interrogation of female detainees and prisoners, and they had to be solely responsible for carrying out any body searches to reduce the risk of sexual abuses. He'd been assured by Adams that there was no contact between male guards and Rahaf without the presence of a female guard. When they had to seek medical assistance for her, Rahaf had been put under the care of a female doctor.

Austyn had been loaded up with a pile of manuals to read on the topic during his twelve-hour flight to Afghanistan. None of what he'd read or been told seemed to apply here. She wasn't what he'd expected. Even before talking to her, his instincts told him that this woman was not crazy, just… resigned to fate. He sensed that when he looked into her eyes, he'd know without a doubt if she could create a substance as terrible as the one that had killed in Maine.

"I'd like to speak to her here," he told the prison commander.

She looked up and down the hallway. "I'm afraid not, sir. We have other prisoners in cells along this corridor. It would be disruptive, and there is the problem of security. Every one of them would hear you."

Still, Austyn wanted her to come willingly out of that hole. He wanted to start off on the right foot. He wished they hadn't moved her. He'd hoped they had taken better care of her.

A thought crossed his mind, something that had occurred to him as he'd read Rahaf's files. It was the only useful thing that had come out of the reading that he'd done on the flight over. "When was the last time Dr. Banaz was outside?"

"You mean, out in the open?" Captain Adams asked doubtfully.

Austyn nodded.

"These prisoners are not allowed to exercise in an open yard, if that's what you mean. She gets thirty minutes of fresh air every day in a special containment unit—"

"And the rest of the time, she's in solitary confinement?"

"These prisoners are here because of special circumstances, sir," Adams replied defensively. "I have specific instructions regarding their handling."

"I know that," Austyn said testily. "When was the last time she saw a horizon, Captain?"

"I can't say, sir. Not since she was moved here. She was blindfolded the times that we had to transfer her to one of the field hospitals because of self-inflicted nutritional issues."

He looked at the pale skin of the prisoner's wrists, the short fuzz covering her skull. If she was listening to anything that was being said, she showed no indication of understanding. "Is there a place outside where I can talk to her?"

The prison commander motioned to him to step away from the open cell.

Austyn complied. She moved to a steel door that they had come through into this section of the prison. Beneath the fluorescent lights of the corridor, he could see she was trying to control her anger. He exchanged a look with Matt, who stood behind her.

"I don't know what you're doing, sir, but you need to keep in mind that this prisoner is a high security risk. Because of her classification, she is not allowed to be seen by other prisoners or by anyone other than a select number of guards. We've had to use extreme caution and use medical staff with a high level of clearance each time that she's had to be hospitalized. She's supposed to be dead, Agent Newman, remember?"

He remembered. "Is there anywhere private enough outside that we could take her?"

"You're obviously not hearing what I'm telling you, sir," she said sharply. "My orders regarding this prisoner are clear and specific."

"And do you really think that none of the other prisoners know she's here?" Austyn asked.

"There is absolutely no contact between them."

"Maybe since she's been at the Brickyard," Austyn argued. "But we have information from Iraq that the insurgents there know that Rahaf Banaz survived the U.S. attack on her lab. The only people we're trying to fool are the United Nations and Amnesty International."

"Look, Agent Newman, the communiqué I received regarding your visit doesn't change my overall charge."

"Captain Adams, my purpose here is to extract information that Dr. Banaz has not shared in almost five years under other interrogation. I want to try something different. I think it could prove beneficial to take her outside for some fresh air."

She stared at him for a moment. "I'd like to see your orders concerning the prisoner," she responded stubbornly.

"All right, Captain." Austyn motioned to Matt to dig the papers out of the briefcase. "I understand your concern, but as of today, her classification changes. These orders supersede your previous orders. As of this moment, she is to be classified as a Homeland Security detainee."

She took the papers that Matt offered and started looking through them. "Then take her. We can help you with transportation."

"We may take her with us if I deem it necessary, or she may remain here." Austyn watched her reading the orders. He would do what he felt was necessary, but he didn't want to rub her nose in it. He was after cooperation, not hostility. Captain Adams appeared to be very good at what she did, and there was no telling if their paths wouldn't cross again.

"I'd like to talk to her here in your facility before we make any decisions," Austyn said in a reasonable tone, trying to make her understand. "Because time is critical until we know more about the nature of the bacteria, we don't want to waste time moving her to another facility. According to her files, the one leisure activity that Rahaf pursued while she was studying in the U.S. was hiking, getting outdoors. There were a number of references to how she loved being out in nature. Now, it may be heading up toward 110 degrees outside, but if moving her into the open air can jolt her a little, help her to open up, then I'd like to try it." He paused a moment. "Can you help us out with that, Captain?"

His plea worked. She nodded, satisfied. "We've fenced in an area in the back of the building where they used to dry bricks. It's walled in on two sides by the old kiln and a garage building. It faces the hills. We don't use it, as it doesn't meet security standards. You're welcome to it."

"Could she been seen there?" he asked, not really caring, but at the same time not wanting to make the personnel here feel as if whatever they'd done so far had no significance.

"Probably not," Adams said. "We have guards' housing on the adjacent hill."

"Okay," he said. "We'll talk to her there."

"Agent Newman, as I mentioned before, I don't think you'll get any cooperation from her. The chances are that she won't go willingly outside with you or answer any of your questions. Do you want to have one of our interrogators work along with you?"

That suggestion had been made back in Washington, too. He was authorized to use whatever resources he needed.

"No." Rahaf Banaz looked like nothing more than a slender bag of bones. There was no way he'd risk losing her under rough interrogation. "Agent Sutton and I will handle it."

"Then would you like to have a couple of guards take her outside?"

So much for letting Rahaf go out willingly, Austyn thought. But he guessed there was probably no chance of that, anyway. He didn't know if she even had the strength to walk. He nodded. "Thanks."

As she relayed the orders to the guards, Matt motioned to Austyn and tapped his watch.

"Captain Adams," Matt said to her. "If you don't mind, I need to use a secure phone to call Washington."

"Of course. You can use the phone in my office. I'll show you."

Austyn decided to stay with Rahaf and make sure he didn't lose her, now that they were this close. As they opened the steel door, the soldier who'd been sent to find information on Rahaf's eating schedule came back. They really couldn't pinpoint the last time she'd eaten.

"All the prisoners are given three meals a day," she told Austyn. "But this one tends to nibble, at best."

The sound of a woman's voice came from the cell. "Come on. Stand up now. Get your legs under you "

Austyn went to the door and saw two female guards bent over at the waist, trying to drag Rahaf onto her feet. Either she was being stubborn, or her legs weren't strong enough to hold her weight. One of the guards jerked at the prisoner's arm.

"Be gentle with her," he found himself saying sternly.

Another guard went in. The room was now almost too crowded to maneuver her. The blanket over her shoulders fell on the threshold as they moved awkwardly through the cell. Rahaf was not helping at all.

Austyn eyed the old rag that once was a jumpsuit. One of the guards lost her grip on Rahaf momentarily and the prisoner collapsed, her chin hitting the cement floor with a loud thud.

After the years of working for Homeland Security, Austyn had thought that he'd snuffed out any sympathy for prisoners. They were enemies of the United States and lawbreakers. He'd always been quite happy putting them behind bars. He had no sympathy, in particular, for the educated and the disillusioned who enjoyed the comforts and freedoms democracy offered, while planning acts that would plant terror in innocent people's hearts.

Something was different here, he thought. Rahaf was different. There was something wrong in what he was witnessing. Her case was nothing like those he'd dealt with before in his career.

She had been an extremely promising student, and the Iraqi government had paid for Rahaf's undergraduate degree at Columbia University in New York City, in spite of her Kurdish heritage. She'd done her graduate work at California Institute of Technology. Her research and publications had been well received from day one. Coming back to Iraq, a fast-track career had been waiting for her. During the following years, she'd been a regular speaker at international symposiums around the world.

And now she was reduced to this.

Two guards on either side, taking hold of Rahaf by each arm, started to drag her to one end of the hall. Austyn had to swallow his objection this time.

He picked up the blanket from the floor. Tucking the folder he'd taken out from his briefcase earlier under his arm, he followed them. Windowless doors lined each side of the hallway. Going past one of them, he heard a man cry out. He hurried along, telling himself that he needed to catch up to Rahaf and the guards. The truth was, he knew, he didn't want to think about who else was in those cells or whether they deserved what was happening to them. He had one task that he needed to focus on.

They went through two sets of steel doors and crossed through a dim space that looked as if it had been a woodworking shop and storage area for the old brick-making facility. The air was warm and musty inside, and Austyn's boots kept sticking to something on the brick floor as they made their way through. Distant hills were visible through small windows, jagged with shards of broken glass. One of the guards unchained a door that opened to a yard of sand and brick.

Outside, an eight-foot chain-link fence with barbed wire along the top served as their only visible barrier to the hills. Beyond the enclosure, there was a short stretch of a man-made clearing with signs warning of land mines and another perimeter fence farther out. Beyond that, rocks and the rugged mountainous terrain took over. Austyn looked up, spotting the guards' station that Captain Adams had spoken of. He could imagine there were many places in the looming mountain where agents of the Taliban could be hidden, spying on what was happening in the old brick factory.

"Where would you like her?" one of the guards asked over her shoulder.

Austyn looked around the enclosed area. Garbage was strewn everywhere. There were no chairs, no benches, nothing to sit on. The yard was small and only a thin section of it by the fence was getting the sun right now.

"The ground by the fence will do," he told them, motioning to the area.

They took Rahaf to the fence and stood her against it. She slid down, her legs folding under her. Austyn quickly spread the blanket over her knees. She was too thin, too weak. Her chin sank to her chest again, her back against the fence.

"You can leave us alone," he told the guards.

"We'll wait by those doors, sir, if you need us."

He wouldn't, but he decided against pursuing it. So long as they were on the other side of the yard, it was fine with him.

Austyn waited until the guards had moved away before sitting cross-legged on the ground near her. He made sure to sit in the shade, as he could already feel the sweat running down his back. The heat here was different than anything he was accustomed to. It was so much more intense. An occasional waft of wind running through the yard didn't cool the skin but only raised the dust, making it harder to breathe. He'd give her ten minutes in the sun, and then help her move into the shade.

She wasn't meditating now. He could see that her eyes were partially open, but she refused to look up. The sun poured over her short-cropped hair and shoulders. He saw her take a deep breath.

"Dr. Banaz," Austyn started. He introduced himself again, identified the department he worked for in Homeland Security. There was no reaction. He told her about his partner and what Matt did, and that he would join them out here very soon.

"I know that you are fluent in English, so I'll just continue to speak. If you need any clarification on anything I say, however, please just ask me. Do you understand me?"

He watched her a moment, but she still made no sign.

"Your classification has changed, Dr. Banaz. I flew here directly from Washington with complete authorization to make you an offer of freedom and to meet any reasonable demand you might have… in return for your cooperation on a medical situation that has arisen."

No movement. Still no acknowledgement that she'd heard or understood anything he was saying. Austyn decided to get to the point. He opened the folder he'd brought along, leafed through it, and found the pictures he was looking for. There were some twenty photos, grotesque, showing bodies in advanced stages of decomposition.

"I know anything I say must come across as totally insincere, considering your detention these past few years. You have every right not to want to have anything to do with me… or even to hear what I have to say," Austyn said softly. "Dr. Banaz, I ask you to look at these, though. We're desperate. And by we, I don't mean only Americans. This situation could be happening anywhere in the world today.

It could be happening among your own people. We're afraid it might be the start of something devastating."

He started spreading the photos on the blanket on her lap.

She closed her eyes and turned her head. Austyn was relieved that she'd at least taken a peek at them.

"The same DNA sequence of microbes discovered in your lab in Baquba has been identified in the remains of these bodies," Austyn told her. 'This is the first time we've seen anything like this outside of a laboratory environment. We don't know what to do with it or how to stop it… if there is a way to stop it."

A breeze threatened to blow the pictures away; he scooped them up, placing three of them on her lap and holding them there.

"These three bodies you see in the photos were teenagers. The others are their parents and innocent people who went there to help them, volunteer rescue workers. These were civilians, totally innocent of what's going on in the world." He paused, wondering if those words would mean anything to her. "We've never seen anything like this, bacteria this destructive and this fast-acting." He shook the pictures lightly. "These children and these adults… we suspect they died in less than an hour after being exposed."

"Some people are fortunate," she said under her breath. "I've been waiting to die for five years now."

Austyn, struck speechless, stared at her. He'd somehow expected that she might not break her silence. He noticed that she had a slightly British accent. But even more so than her words and the accent, he was stunned that she was looking at the pictures again. This time, her face was lifted enough that he could see her.

Rahaf's green eyes were a startling feature in her pale face. He'd never noticed their color from looking at the old pictures they'd had on file. But they shouldn't have been such a surprise. Unlike so many people from the Middle East, who had more of a Mediterranean look, Kurds were known for their more northern European complexions. The thirty or so pounds that Rahaf had lost while in prison made a difference, too, Austyn thought. With her face thin and pale, her eyes were far more startling than they would have been otherwise.

Without touching his hand, she pushed the pictures away and inched along the fence until she was sitting in the shade. He noticed that she'd not once looked at the mountains or the sky.

Something didn't sit right with Austyn, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"They aren't the Adirondacks," he said, "but I thought you might enjoy being outside."

She was back to being silent, looking at a crumpled knot of cassette tape dangling from a roll of fencing a couple of feet ahead of her in the yard. A loop of the tape hanging down from the rest danced in the dry breeze.

Austyn held the pictures in his hand, keeping them in front of him where they were visible to her. "What we've seen with these bodies is unlike anything on record. The strain is connected to the microbes that were found in your laboratory and the samples that were collected there." He wasn't sure if he was repeating himself or not, but she didn't appear to be affected by the severity or urgency of what they were facing. If she cared at all, she wasn't showing it.

She gathered her knees to her chest and tucked the blanket tighter around her. She leaned her chin on her knees, lost in her own world once again.

Austyn noticed a mark above her left ear just inside her hairline and stared at it. A moon-shaped birthmark. He could see it through the short-cropped hair.

"I have to say, officially, that no one thinks that you have any personal connection to any biological attack… if that's what it is."

Her eyes cut to him for a second, conveying without a word how stupid she thought his statement was. She'd been rotting in prison for exactly that crime for all these years. He let it go.

"At this point we don't know how the microbe reached the United States. We don't know who is responsible for it. There are other agents who have been tasked with getting those answers," Austyn explained methodically, calmly. "My partner and I are here to seek your assistance as a scientist, as an expert. You're the only one with the years of research in this specific area that can possibly help us, to give us answers as far as what we should or shouldn't do. You were able to contain the microbe in a dormant stage in your lab. To start, we're hoping that you can tell us if the steps we've taken are good enough to contain the bacteria to where it is. Dr. Banaz, millions of people are at risk. We're trying to save lives."

Rahaf closed her eyes again.

Austyn wasn't ready to give up. "You're a scientist, one of the smartest in the world in this area. I can't undo the fact that you've been detained and moved around in this way. I'm sure no apology would suffice for the way you've been treated for all these years by my government. But I can, at least, tell you that no charges will be brought against you for your work on behalf of Saddam's regime."

It wasn't much of an apology, and she acted as if he hadn't said a word. The troubling part was that he understood her. There were far better ways to deal with her after her capture than what the CIA had done. Since the days of the Romans, people like Rahaf — with her intelligence and background — had always been considered a prize, part of the spoils of the war. The victorious nation would honor them and buy their cooperation. In any situation but this Iraq war, she'd have long been working in one of the top U.S. government labs, heading some important project, having her own staff of scientists. Austyn couldn't understand what had happened here, how they could have done so many things wrong. There was no excuse for how she'd been lost to them for so long.

"Dr. Banaz, since the execution of Saddam and his closest advisers, the new Iraqi government has been trying to move forward. The U.S. has also been trying to—"

Her eyes locked on his face.

"You didn't know that he was executed."

She looked away, but it didn't appear that she was upset by the news.

Austyn's thoughts turned to what he'd read in Rahaf's files. During her years of studying in the U.S., Rahaf had been a dedicated scholar, but she'd also been active politically. She had been outspoken about women's rights, and involved in a number of clubs. Her high energy level had been repeatedly referred to in college and graduate school files and letters.

When she'd returned to Iraq, someone in Saddam's regime had been smart enough to recognize her talents and interests. It didn't appear that she'd faced any discrimination because of her gender or her Kurd heritage. She'd been given her own staff and facility within a year of her return. Knowing this about her, Austyn could not quite figure out why she hadn't raised more hell during her detention. Transcripts of her CIA interrogations had contained no mention of her making demands regarding her rights.

He glanced at her again. Perhaps she had, and the files had been edited, he thought. It was terrible to think they may have killed the spirit in someone so valuable.

The warm, dry breeze swept through the yard, raising a cloud of dust. Despite the heat, he saw her shiver. He found himself staring at her thin arms, at her pale skin. She was definitely not well.

The sensation that something was off continued to bother him. He looked again at the birthmark above her ear and paged through the file he'd brought outside. He was looking for two pictures of Dr. Banaz that were in this file. One was of Rahaf leaving a conference in Stockholm. It was dated 2000. Large sunglasses hid most of her face. He stared at the shape of her chin, her high cheekbones. In the other photo, she was standing on a podium and delivering a speech during the same conference. There was no telling of the color of her eyes. Austyn held the picture at arm's length and compared it to the woman sitting before him. The same slender build and dark hair. She was simply much thinner now and she looked different with her buzz cut.

The door leading to the building opened. Austyn saw Matt coming through it. He tucked the photos back inside the file folder, closed it and placed a broken piece of brick on it. Standing, he met his partner halfway across the yard, where they were out of earshot of both Rahaf and the guards.

"Anything?" Austyn asked.

Matt shook his head. "No new cases reported. And they're completely done with the sweep of the locations where each of the Maine victims came from. There's been no sign of the bacteria."

"So the monster was just lying there waiting for them to arrive?" Austyn commented.

His partner shrugged. "The only new info was that there's been a recommendation made by the team working out of the National Institute of Health to have mega quantities of some new antibiotic drug made and ready to go."

"What's the drug?"

Matt looked down at a notepad. "DM8A. I don't really know anything about it. Do you?"

Austyn summarized the information he knew for his partner. DM8A had been awaiting FDA approval for over a year now. It was originally designed to be given intravenously to fight infections resulting from internal injuries. Of everything out there, the antibiotic would be the strongest drug they had to fight resistant strains of necrotizing fasciitis. Still, this was simply a tweak of a basic format. The holdup in approving the drug stemmed from the fact that it was potent enough to shut down the liver of the patient in two to five percent of the cases. Of course, there were other side effects, too, but they were more of a nuisance than dangerous.

"The eggheads at NIH say that the effectiveness of fighting this strain of bacteria with the DM8 A is definitely questionable," Matt told him. "But they're taking out the biggest guns they have. They've ordered the pharmaceutical company to crank out as many doses of the antibiotic as they can. If there's a widespread outbreak, they want it ready for distribution."

"We've been trying to keep a lid on the situation since it first showed up ten days ago," Austyn commented. "I guess that was a wasted effort."

"Only one company is being used," Matt told him, shaking his head. "Reynolds Pharmaceuticals. They're the same ones who take care of the vaccines for our troops. They do government jobs on a regular basis."

Austyn had worked before with a number of engineers and researchers at Reynolds. He felt better that some confidentiality was being maintained.

"They're more worried that the antibiotic won't work at all," Matt said, voicing his concern.

"Or if we can distribute it to the victim early enough to have an effect."

A stronger gust of wind swirled through the yard, raising dust and debris. Austyn looked over his shoulder at where Rahaf sat. She had leaned her head back against the fence, her eyes closed. The white column of her neck was exposed. Despite all the years of hardship, it was impossible to miss her delicate chin and how well proportioned her face was. In her healthy days, she surely must have been considered a delicate and beautiful woman. He glanced through the files containing the old photos of her. Looking at them, he'd not considered the woman on the podium beautiful. He knew, though, that many women working in scientific fields made a point of trying to look plain, trying to be noticed solely for their intelligence and their contributions. It was like you could only be beautiful or smart. Not both.

A vague suspicion, not yet fully formed, wouldn't leave him.

He motioned with his head toward the scientist, and they took a couple of steps closer to her. Austyn stopped abruptly, though, and his partner followed suit.

"Did I miss something out here?" Matt asked.

Austyn shook his head and looked at Rahaf again. "You've read everything in Dr. Banaz's files. What color are her eyes?"

The other man shot him a curious look but went along. "Hazel. I expected them to be brown, but her student visa documentation said hazel."

"That's right. The file says hazel." He motioned with his head to the prisoner. "But her eyes are green."

"Hazel, green, blue… they're all close," Matt said, looking sharply at the prisoner. "You think this isn't Banaz?"

"I'm not ready to jump to any conclusions," Austyn replied. "How about an English accent? Do you remember reading anything in Dr. Banaz's files that she had a British accent?"

"That's not something that an interrogator would mention." He shook his head, staring at Rahaf. "She spoke to you?"

Austyn nodded.

"And she has a Brit accent? You're sure?"

Austyn nodded again.

"How could she have a British accent? She was educated in the U.S." He lowered his voice, looking suddenly concerned. "Are you saying that we might not have the right person here?"

They weren't far away, and Austyn hoped she heard pieces of their conversation. He wanted her to know of his suspicion.

"I don't know. But something doesn't feel right."

Matt shook his head. "How can she not be Banaz? She's undergone dozens of interrogation sessions over the years. We would have picked up the fact that she's the wrong woman."

"You'd think so," Austyn agreed.

"We have her fingerprints," Matt reminded him.

"The fingerprints were taken after her capture," he replied. "In spite of her years studying in the U.S., there was no reason for her to get fingerprinted. Those were pre-9/11 days, and unless she was applying for a green card, she wouldn't have had her prints taken. You know as well as I do that the security guidelines weren't the same as they are now. And as far as comparing it to anything the Iraqi government might have had, I doubt if anything was ever tracked down. Don't forget, we have never admitted that a body was recovered."

If Rahaf was listening to this conversation, she gave no indication of it. She hadn't moved. Austyn wondered if she was even breathing.

"The marines took her out of that lab," Matt argued. "She was wearing Dr. Banaz's badge. She was in possession of her keys. She matches her description. There was no reason to think otherwise."

"You're right," Austyn acknowledged. "There was no reason to think otherwise."

"She admitted that she was the scientist," Matt continued. "Now, why would anyone lie about something like that? Who the hell is crazy enough to spend all these years in jail, pretending to be someone else?"

"Someone who's trying to protect someone else."

He tried to remember some of the details of Banaz's files. There was no mention of parents, other than the fact that the girls were from a Kurdish tribe. He stared at the prisoner.

"The girls," he said aloud. "Her sister. They were only a year apart. What was the sister's name?"

Matt opened a folder and browsed through it for a moment. "Fahimah Banaz. There's not much about her here, except that she was a professor of political science at the University of Baghdad. She was only a year older than her sister, Rahaf. Missing. Suspected to have died back in 2003 in a bombing near the Tigris River part of University of Baghdad campus."

"Was her body ever recovered?"

Matt shook his head. "Not that we have any record of."

"What else do you have on Dr. Fahimah Banaz?"

"Nothing here," Matt told him. "I'll get on the captain's computer and find some information… whatever they have on the sister."

"Why don't you do that," Austyn said in a louder tone. "And make sure we have some pictures. Fingerprints would be ideal. It's possible that the university files in Baghdad might have something, too. Probably more than what's left of Saddam's government files. We need our people in Iraq to contact any faculty or students that might have had dealings with Professor Banaz. We can interview them on the phone and fly them over, if necessary."

Austyn looked at the prisoner again. Although her eyes were still closed and her posture was unchanged, she was with them, hearing every word. There was tension in every limb. A vein pulsed near her temple. Her face was suddenly reflecting some new stress. Now they were in business.

"Another piece of information that I want right away is Fahimah Banaz's education. Where did she go to school? I'm curious to know how much time she spent in England. Or whether she attended a British school in Iraq."

Matt and Austyn exchanged a look. There was a lot that didn't need to be said but they both understood. If the forces in Iraq happened to have picked up the wrong person, then there was a possibility that Dr. Rahaf Banaz was out there today, running free. If that were true, then it meant there was a strong chance she had a hand in engineering the bacteria's release. Matt headed toward the door across the yard.

Austyn walked toward the prisoner. He crouched down before her and stared at her face, studying every inch. He was close enough that it was impossible for her not to know he was there. It was a battle of will. It could have been a minute or five minutes, he didn't know. She finally opened her eyes and stared back.

'Another Dr. Banaz," he said flatly. "Which are you?"