The Panic Zone

27

As Lucy Walsh watched the Leekas leave Dr. Auden’s office, her breathing quickened. The parts of their conversation with the doctor that she’d overheard confirmed her fears.

For the past several weeks, she’d grown increasingly suspicious that the child-care center was a cover for something illegal.

Something sinister.

Lucy had arrived in the Bahamas from Ireland a year ago after answering an online advertisement for nannies. At the time she thought the center to be a world-class service with humanitarian leanings, secretly aiding families facing difficult adoptions and custody matters.

But she became troubled by Dr. Auden’s payments and calls to medical labs and law firms around the world, by her odd dealings with mysterious and scary people, by the cryptic behavior of some of the staff. It led Lucy to believe that the center was involved in illegal adoptions or child smuggling.

Or, Lord above, something worse.

On a recent trip home to Dublin, Lucy confided her worries to a man at her church who worked with a human rights organization. He advised her to covertly gather evidence. When she returned to the Bahamas, she started keeping a journal, collecting files and sending them to her friend in Dublin, who promised to pass them along “through the appropriate channels.”

Lucy was typing new notes on the Leekas in her confidential online e-mail account when Dr. Auden suddenly appeared at her desk.

“I need you to arrange an additional flight for me.”

“Of course, Doctor. First class and both seats, as usual?”

“Yes, here are the details.”

The doctor left her a slip of paper.

After she returned to her office, Dr. Sutsoff closed her door and reread the e-mail she’d just received from her team’s African field station.

Our tests confirm we have what is needed. We have a small window to harvest and will make arrangements for your arrival.

Pleased with the information, she picked up a novelty float pen and turned it playfully in her fingers. It was custom-made to her specifications. The barrel showed a sailboat on an azure sea. It floated from one end to the other when the pen was tipped. She unscrewed the cap and slowly emptied the barrel of the liquid, then sterilized it with an antiseptic. She then refilled the barrel with the liquid from the brown bottle in her medical bag, the same liquid she’d tapped into Alek Leeka’s juice.

Her latest formula.

She resealed the cap and held the pen up to the light.

It would pass through any security system. She would give it to Elena and Valmir and advise them on how to administer the solution to Alek.

Now it was time to run her test.

Her confidential phone line rang.

“Yes,” she said.

“Dr. Auden, this is security.”

Upon recognizing Drake Stinson’s voice she grew angry.

“I told you to never to call me here.”

“Our risks are mounting. Vulnerabilities are emerging out of Dar es Salaam, the U.S. and elsewhere.”

“I’m aware.”

“Are you aware that aspects of the operation were infiltrated in Brazil? Files were stolen. Countermeasures were taken under the pretense of a drug war but an American wire service reporter is digging deep into our actions. I diverted his attention but take nothing for granted. We must remove him now.”

“No. Not yet. You’ve already removed two journalists. Remove another one and a hundred more will follow. Monitor him but take no action without my authority.”

“But think of the risks-”

“Risks? Look at what the Leekas risked in Wyoming for our best specimen. My God, where did you find these people? We needed the best for this operation-now it’s too late to replace them.”

“I’d warned you that with the large number of operatives you’d demanded we would face a quality issue. And what about the risk you took with your apocalyptic video?”

“We needed to get our message out at a critical time. We did it through the guise of a cult. My identity was masked and the video is untraceable.”

“I don’t think you understand that our investors are furious at not seeing any tangible results yet. This will be raised at your meeting with the inner group. They want to know how much longer before we launch.”

“I’ve told you, a prototype will be released any day now. I will review the results. Then I will go out in the field to seek the final component. I assure you we will launch the operation on schedule. I will deal with the inner group’s worries at our upcoming meeting. Now, I must go.”

Sutsoff returned to her computers and her work.

She downloaded an array of data relating to Alek. At the same time Sutsoff watched a large screen linked to a camera monitoring the dimly lit room where Alek had joined some twenty other children watching cartoons.

Everyone was in good health. No indication of any illness.

For the moment.

Dr. Sutsoff adjusted some switches on a control panel and the light in the room faded. Children giggled. Some worried. She put on special glasses and using electromagnetic radiation technology was able to see everything and everyone that Alek Leeka had touched. It was because of the liquid she’d administered. Blue hand prints, smears and smudges radiated as if something had run rampant in the darkness.

Even on the skin of the other children.

Good.

She began manipulating the computer, entering commands and passwords. As the computer screens displayed a response with color bar levels and digitized monitoring, Sutsoff watched Alek.

Within thirty seconds of Sutsoff’s commands, Alek released a small tickle cough. Sutsoff’s keyboard clicked as the camera zoomed in on Alek.

Within one minute, Alek coughed a bit harder. Sutsoff watched the large flat screen that captured glowing droplets spraying from Alek’s mouth and traveling in the air. Some were inhaled by the other children. Some landed on hands that were then dragged over faces and eyes.

Sutsoff made another adjustment, increasing her level, and within thirty seconds, Alek sneezed. The magnification camera showed the spray of droplets traveling throughout the room and bombarding the other children.

Within ten minutes, all of them were coughing and sneezing. The levels on the computers monitoring them showed that they had each started presenting symptoms of a common cold.

It was astounding.

Sutsoff’s pulse quickened.

But she was not done. She typed more commands, inputting passwords and codes. Within five minutes the sneezing and coughing subsided.

Within ten minutes it ceased.

Sutsoff studied the computer monitoring the children’s levels. Everything had returned to normal.

It was over.

Sutsoff cupped her hands to her face.

Another trial had worked.

Like the others before it.

Sutsoff pressed her intercom and requested to see Alek. She made notes while waiting for the staff member to return Alek to her office for a follow-up examination. Alek was placed on the table while the doctor checked all of his signs again.

Perfect health. Not a problem

Alone, Sutsoff savored what she had dreamed of for years.

Everything she had been working for, everything she’d been struggling to achieve was now within her grasp.

She possessed the power at her fingertips to control who got sick. With the right synthetic biological agent, with the right microbe, she could determine who lived and who died.

Anywhere. Anytime.

She was poised to take the world into a new age.

She glanced up at the TV monitors. One was showing a report on the upcoming Human World Conference in New York. It was going to be one of the largest gatherings in history. As she watched footage of the preparations for crowds that would be in the millions, she reflected on Oppenheimer’s breakthrough and his invocation of Vishnu. It was now more applicable to her achievement, she thought, as she considered the scale of the conference.

“Now I have become death, the destroyer of worlds.”

Let’s get things started.

Dr. Sutsoff went to another computer and entered commands on the keyboard until a head shot of a man appeared alongside some biographical information.

Name: Roger Timothy Tippert. Age: forty-one. Nationality: American. Residence: Indianapolis, Indiana. Occupation: teacher. Marital Status: married. Spouse: Catherine.

Sutsoff stared at Roger’s face. Then at Catherine’s face.

The Tipperts were cruise-ship passengers.

She’d selected them randomly for the next experiment.

If it worked, only one of them would be returning to Indianapolis alive.