Mosaic (Breakthrough Book 5)

by Michael C. Grumley

  Miller finished scribbling his signature on one of a dozen documents in front of him before looking up at Langford.

  “Come in,” he waved, “before someone else does.”

  After Langford sat down, Miller could see the remnants of amusement still on his friend’s face. “I know, I know. The desk.”

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  “We’re too old to have to.” Miller laid the pen down and leaned back in his leather chair, his lips pursed against his fingers. “So you going to take it?”

  Miller was referring to an offer on the table for Langford to be promoted to Secretary of the Navy. A vacated position the president was actively looking to fill.

  Langford sighed. ‘I don’t know.”

  Miller nodded and changed the subject. “You hear the latest out of China?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Aligning with Russia. This gold-backed oil contract is another slap in the face. And this never-ending mess over North Korea is only making it worse. One day it’s fixed and the next it’s not.” Miller shook his head. “I honestly don’t know how much longer we have before the wheels really come off this thing.”

  “Longer than we think but never as long as we need.”

  “And no one else seems to be all that worried, except the president.” He sighed. “Christ, does everyone want war?”

  Langford frowned. “At least with everyone focused elsewhere, it gives us more time.”

  “I guess we should be grateful.” Miller stood up and turned to face one of the windows behind him. “This thing is getting unwieldy, Jim. We both know it. And when someone else gets wind of what we’re trying to do, and I mean the whole thing, it won’t end well.” He shrugged without turning around. “Just a couple old guys, trying to do the right thing. And I’m not sure we even know what the hell that is anymore.”

  Langford shrugged. “It’s not like we have anything else to do.”

  Miller burst out laughing. He turned to look at his friend with a smile which quickly faded. “Elizabeth has been working overtime trying to get me to retire.”

  “To do what?”

  “Beats me. Carry her bags while she shops probably.”

  Langford grinned. “I bet you’d be good at it.”

  “Shut up.”

  “How much does Elizabeth know?”

  Miller shook his head. “Not much. What about Andrea?”

  “Same.”

  “I guess they’ll know soon enough. Everyone will.”

  “Probably.”

  Miller stared at the floor, contemplating, before finally turning back around. “I’ve been thinking about what you said before. About going public with the bacterium. Give it to the world and just level the playing field.”

  Langford’s eyebrows rose. “What about the consequences?”

  Miller’s brooding brown eyes rose to meet Langford’s. “Elizabeth’s sick.”

  Any remaining trace of amusement disappeared. “What is it?”

  “We’re not sure yet.”

  “How is she?”

  “Between you and me…she’s more optimistic than I am.”

  “What can we do?”

  Miller smiled. “She’s actually going to call Andrea today.” He slid both hands into his pockets. “It’s funny. It’s easy to be sure about your position on things until you’re affected. Personally.”

  “Meaning?”

  “If it’s what we think, she doesn’t want to do chemo,” Miller said. “She’s seen so many friends go through that. Watching them trade what little time they have left for…” He shrugged. “Christ, we all have.”

  Langford leaned forward in his chair. “We can get her down there, Merl. To Trinidad. Get her in the water. You know that.”

  “I know. But that doesn’t change things for anyone else, does it?”

  Langford frowned and solemnly leaned back.

  “We’re all human. All citizens of the same planet. In the end, it doesn’t matter how much power you have. Or how much money. We all have to face the same music.”

  “It’s different this time. We can do something.”

  “Maybe.” Miller’s eyes remained fixed on the wall. “It’s funny. We spend almost our entire lives arguing over who’s good and who’s bad. Who is greedy and who is just a bleeding heart. Who’s part of the problem and who’s part of the solution. But in the end, I’m not sure if it really matters.” He turned and smiled sadly at Langford. “Because death doesn’t care what your opinions are.”

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  “It doesn’t care how you feel about this or that. Or what your position is on religion or politics. Doesn’t care about freedom or human rights, or even care how you feel about abortion.” Miller frowned. “Death doesn’t care about anything. It just comes and takes you…indiscriminately. Just taps you on the shoulder, like a cold dagger down your spine. Reminding you that all of this is temporary. Or worse, it taps your wife.”

  Miller stepped forward, moving to a portrait of Thomas Jefferson on the wall. “Do we really live by any true morals anymore?”

  “We’re trying to.”

  Miller turned around. “Are we? Are any of us really looking ahead, for the benefit of our children? Of their children? We say we are. But are we really?”

  “I thought that’s what this whole thing was about.”

  The Secretary inhaled. “So did I…but things change. Things change, and you find yourself doubting what you thought was right just last year. Or last month. Christ, yesterday. But there are no easy answers. There’re not even easy questions. And we just find ourselves in deeper and deeper, until we’re trapped by an unending string of unforeseeable complications. With no way out, except through hope. Innocent, idealistic hope. Hope that a simpler solution will present itself. A solution untainted by self-interest, exploitation, or coercion. An easy answer that will let us all feel like we’re still doing the right thing.”

  “You’re talking about the bacteria.”

  “Yes,” Miller nodded. “Here we are, faced with two impossibly difficult options. Try to protect it and keep it from being exploited. Or turn it loose, in the hope that it will make us all equal.”

  Langford frowned. “But you were right, it wouldn’t be that easy. It can’t be. It never is. All we can do is what we think is right. And while we agree that it’s not up to us to decide who should live and die, we’re not the ones in charge of those decisions.”

  “Then who is? Our governments? Can you think of a single, benevolent government on this entire planet? And then there are dictators, political zealots, and even warlords. Which brings us back to the same question. How long can we keep a lid on this, before the powerful eventually win?” Miller looked dejected. “Governments and freedom are not as compatible as we’d like to think.”

  “Meaning that even if we release it to the world, it doesn’t mean it will stay that way.”

  “Exactly.”

  Langford nodded thoughtfully. “So what’s your gut saying?”

  Miller lowered himself into his chair and gazed across his desk. “My gut says that I love my wife. And I think I want more than just to save her––I want to make her proud of the man she married. For as long as I have her.”

  “Amen to that.”

  The Secretary sighed. “And who knows? With any luck, one day people will hear a story of two old coots who managed to pull off the impossible. Against all the odds.”

  Langford was smiling when Miller finally motioned to him. “Let’s get on with it.”

  ***

  It took only two rings before John Clay answered.

  “This is Clay.”

  “John, it’s Langford. And Miller. One second.” Langford reached forward, placing a small disk that resembled a fat, metal hockey puck on the desk in front of him. A scrambler for listening devices, given to him by Borger. He depressed the button on top of the device and waited for the light to turn green.

  “Okay. We should be goo
d. Do you have Caesare with you?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You in a secure location?”

  Clay and Caesare both glanced around the storage room. A single, bright bulb overhead illuminated shelves on all sides, stacked neatly with hospital supplies. “As secure as we’re going to get.”

  “What did you want to talk about?”

  “I think we have a problem, sir.”

  Langford glanced across the desk at Miller. “Only one?”

  “Uh, well, I’m not sure.”

  “So much for humor,” Langford quipped, leaning back. “What do you have?”

  “It’s about the Pathfinder, sir. And something Commander Lawton said.”

  “We’re all ears.”

  “During the attack on the ship, Neely mentioned that she was in the lab. With Will and the kid, Lee. She said it was clear from the gunfire that the Russians knew exactly where they were headed––straight for them.”

  The inference could not have been clearer and hit Langford and Miller at the same time. “So how did they know?”

  “Exactly, sir. What was in that lab was known only to us.”

  “And to the President’s Security Council.”

  “Correct.”

  “What was in the lab at that time?”

  “Only some testing equipment and Commander Neely’s samples, Admiral.”

  “Samples of the bacteria.”

  “Correct.”

  “Which they took.”

  “Yes,” Clay answered. “But not all of it.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “She hid some of it, sir.”

  “She hid some? Where?”

  “She says it’s still aboard the Pathfinder.”

  Langford smiled. “That’s one smart woman.”

  “Tell me about it,” cracked Caesare.

  “Anything else?”

  “No, sir. Not at the moment.”

  “Okay. Give us some time. We’ll call you back.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Langford reached out and ended the call on his phone.

  Across from him, Miller leaned forward onto his desk. “It appears we have a leak.”

  31

  Doctor Kanna reached the end of the hall and peered through the large window to find Neely inside, helping Dr. Rhoades with the young girl. Together the women had her sitting on the side of the bed, each holding one of the girl’s hands.

  All three turned when he opened the door and stepped inside.

  “Feeling better?” Neely asked.

  “Amazing what a few hours of needed sleep can do.” He approached the bed and smiled at Li Na. “It looks like our patient is awake. Hello, Li Na. My name is Doctor Kanna.”

  The teenager returned his smile, weakly but welcoming. “Hello.”

  “How are we feeling?”

  “Tired.”

  “I’m sure.” Kanna reached out and took her hand, gently turning it over and feeling her pulse. “Do you mind if I check some things?”

  The girl shook her head.

  Kanna then reached for his stethoscope on a small table and put it on using his free hand. He placed the small diaphragm softly against her gown and above her left breast.

  “Can you take a few deep breaths?”

  Li Na complied, breathing in deeply.

  Kanna listened and moved the instrument gently, then switched it onto her back. He looked at Tricia with a raised eyebrow. She sounded strong.

  Tricia’s lips curled slightly. She’d never seen anything like it.

  Kanna nodded and held the girl’s hand again. “Can you squeeze my hand, Li Na?”

  Again the doctor was surprised. “Very good.” He then raised a small otoscope to examine her eyes, followed by her ears.

  Kanna looked at Tricia. “How long has she been awake?”

  “About an hour.”

  “How’s her GCS?”

  Tricia shrugged. “Ten.”

  Kanna tilted his head. “Ten?”

  “Well, that was before.”

  Kanna nodded. “Seems pretty good now.” He stepped back and examined Li Na before turning to Neely. “Did she sit up by herself?”

  “No, we helped her.”

  “Hmm.” He raised Li Na’s arm, supporting it under the elbow. “Have we done any therapy yet? Some passive range of motion?”

  “No, not yet.”

  He looked down at Li Na’s bare feet. “Are we dangling?”

  “I thought we should get her onto her feet.”

  Kanna nodded again. “Li Na, how do you feel sitting up? Any dizziness?”

  “Just a little.”

  He glanced at Tricia. “We should get her into a chair first.”

  Neely quickly stepped away and pulled a chair closer, positioning its arm against the side of the bed. Kanna placed Li Na’s hands on his shoulders and put his own on her small hips. With the women on either side, they moved her carefully and smoothly from the side of the bed and into the chair.

  “How’s that Li Na? Any pain?”

  She peered down at her hands and legs before shaking her head. “No.”

  “Good. Is there anything else you’re feeling?”

  She nodded and looked up at him politely. Her accent was strong and distinctly Chinese. “Hungry.”

  ***

  When Neely stepped out of the room, Steve Caesare was observing quietly from the large window.

  “How’s she doing?”

  “Good. She’s past the liquids and on to fruit and jello.”

  “Any surprises?”

  Neely folded her arms and watched through the window along with him. “Judging from both doctors’ reactions, the only surprises seem to be in how well she’s doing. Physically and neurologically.”

  “Excellent. Does she remember anything?”

  “Quite a lot actually. There still appear to be some gaps, but I’m sure those will fill in eventually. For now, she’s still pretty frightened over the whole thing.”

  “Who can blame her?”

  Together, the two watched Dr. Kanna kneel in front of Li Na’s chair. He carefully extended one of her legs out and back in. “Any signs of DNA trouble?”

  “Unfortunately, it’s too early to tell. If there is, it may not reveal itself for some time.”

  “Sounds like a bit of a guessing game.”

  “Yes and no. Li Na’s circumstance is definitely unique, but there’s a lot of similar work being done in genome editing these days.”

  “Genome editing?”

  She grinned and looked at Caesare. “Sounds strange, doesn’t it?”

  “Sounds like something you’d do on a word processor.”

  Neely laughed. “It does. Genome editing has been around for a while now, and it’s getting more and more advanced. It’s basically genetic engineering and is the process of adding, changing, or deleting specific pieces of DNA. It’s usually done in the genome of a very small organism, like single cells, where the effects can be studied. But now even larger organisms are being used.”

  “How in the world do you edit live DNA?”

  “They use something called engineered nucleases, but most call it molecular scissors. It’s a process of making breaks in the double-helix strands of DNA, making the change, and then using enzymes to reconnect the strands. There are several different techniques now. And they’ve become surprisingly efficient.”

  Caesare stared at her in surprise. “Wait a minute, are you telling me they can just go in and change whatever they want now?”

  “More or less.”

  “They could just make my eyes blue, or my hair green?”

  “It’s a little more complicated than that. You’re talking about a lot of cells, not just one. But they can use retroviruses for that. It would take a lot longer, but it can be done. Similar to Li Na’s mystery bacterium, but slower. Much slower.”

  “Jesus,” Caesare breathed in. “Where does it stop?”

  “I don’t know, but even I will admit
the progress has become a little unnerving. That’s one of the reasons people are so concerned about genetically modified foods. Genes aren’t that simple. They often work together in groups. Sometimes very large groups.”

  “How large?”

  “Well, that’s the problem. We don’t know exactly. We’re continually finding new connections or interdependencies among different strands and gene groups. So it can be very easy to think all the genes have been identified for a particular genetic function when, in fact, they haven’t.”

  “Good God.”

  Neely grinned. “I’m inclined to agree with you. Consider that fundamentally men and women are essentially the same. At least biologically speaking. But now consider all the differences between our two sexes, all of which are due to a single Y chromosome. One that has only 200 genes in it.”

  Clay studied her curiously, repeating the thought. “All the differences between a man and a woman come down to just 200 genes?”

  “That’s right. Out of 20,000.”

  Caesare shook his head. “So, what happens when they go in and edit these genes without knowing if the change has been fully mapped out? Not to mention accurately!”

  Neely shrugged. “No one really knows.”

  “And they’re selling these genetic medications without being completely sure?”

  “That’s what worries me most,” she replied. “Overconfidence can be a dangerous thing. Especially in the medical industry.”

  “Sounds like what they need is a little humility.”

  “Without a doubt,” Neely agreed. “The discovery of DNA and its double-helix strands was an amazing breakthrough. But in hindsight, the potential of what it can lead to makes it downright frightening.”

  32

  Construction of the Dugway Proving Ground began in 1942, just over eighty-five miles outside of Salt Lake City, Utah. Its primary mission—to test U.S. and Allies’ biological and chemical weapons—would eventually grow into one of the most secretive and perhaps controversial military installations in United States history.

  Dugway, or DPG, commenced testing almost immediately that same year, testing new weapons to aid the Allies in World War II. Weapons including flamethrowers, biological warfare, firebombing tactics, and of course, antidotes to some of the very bio-chem weapons it created. However, unlike the mysterious and endlessly glamorized Area 51, Dugway’s secrets went virtually undetected by the general public for decades.