“First, the nanoparticles target the brain cell,” Park explained, pointing to the elongated fried egg.
After the nanoparticles attached to the brain cell’s surface, the cell sucked them inside so that the fried egg now looked like it had been thoroughly seasoned with black pepper. Then wherever those black nanoparticles were, tiny green specks started to emanate from them.
“Once absorbed by the cells, the nanoparticles release their cargo,” Park continued. “In this case, the cargo might be genes to encode for light-sensitive proteins or the light-sensitive proteins themselves.”
The green specks settled all around the brain cell.
“Then all it takes is the stimulus of a certain wavelength of light, like a laser, to get those proteins to react,” Park said.
A red laser lanced from across the screen. The green proteins changed color to yellow.
“Whatever the proteins are designed to do, maybe set off some chemical cascade to signal for other brain cells to shut down or to tell the cells to produce other molecules that might influence a person’s mood, they do it when a specific wavelength of light hits them,” Park said.
“To sum it up,” Webber said. “The nanoparticles deliver a kind of biological bomb. That bomb only explodes when set off by that specific light stimulus. Theoretically, that could set off a chain reaction resulting in the extreme physiological reactions we witnessed in the videos.”
“I’m afraid this leaves me with more questions than answers,” Kasim said. “First off, is this actually real or another werewolf theory?”
Park gave him a knowing grin. “I know it sounds like science fiction. But in fact, scientists in a 2010 Nature paper showed they were able to use optogenetics to cause mice to freeze in place, as if paralyzed by fear.”
That sent a shudder down Kasim’s spine.
Weber continued. “Scientists have also used it to induce seizures in healthy animals, control mouse whisker movements, or even activate dopamine release. It takes no stretch of the imagination to see what they could do to a human using optogenetics.”
“That is… unnerving,” Kasim said. While this seemed like a good area to investigate further, he had long since learned that the most immediate answer they stumbled upon was not always the right one. Especially in a field as complex as bioweapons. He wouldn’t be satisfied until they exhausted all other possibilities. “You also mentioned magnetic fields.”
“It’s possible that the nanoparticles themselves are being controlled and activated by the generation of a magnetic field,” Park said. “After all, that’s how they’re used in Smadi’s anticancer research. It could be that the magnetic field provides a similar stimulation effect as light in optogenetics.”
Kasim folded his hands on the table. “You don’t seem convinced.”
“In the videos we saw, the magnetic field would have to be quite strong to affect the victims over the ranges we witnessed,” Park replied. “I wouldn’t say we ruled it out, but it would require an enormous power source to create such a large magnetic field. We’re talking machines that would be the size of an MRI machine or larger. That just seems extraordinarily difficult.”
“Also, such a magnetic disturbance might be akin to an electromagnetic pulse,” Weber added. “We would’ve expected some issues with cell phones, security cameras, and possibly even power in those areas.”
Park closed his laptop. “So that’s where we’re at right now. Some guesses but nothing conclusive.”
Kasim folded his reading glasses up and slipped them in his shirt pocket. “It’s a start. But we don’t have a smoking gun. And most importantly, this doesn’t answer how we can keep Cruz and Wolfe safe from the weapon. Unless I’m missing something.”
He looked at the three technical specialists. He wished one of them would share a brilliant idea, some way to ensure Cruz and Wolfe would be safe for the duration of the mission.
But the only thing they shared with each other was worried silence.
Aqaba, Jordan
Skylar studied the two-story stone house surrounded by a brick wall just a few feet tall. The rest of the street was eerily quiet. No barking dogs. Just a few buzzing streetlights scattered so far apart to be nearly useless.
She followed Alex through the wrought-iron gate. Dead and dying brown plants drooped around a minimally landscaped front yard that was mostly rock and pebbles.
A creeping sensation tugged at the back of her mind. It wasn’t the fact that they very well could be set on by gunmen. It wasn’t that they might have already lost the trail leading to Smadi and Ballard.
Those were problems she could deal with.
But back at the university, she’d felt that sensation again. Just like at the safe house in Amman. She had controlled herself better this time. But that frighteningly familiar anger, heat, and pain… all of it had returned.
Sure, it had been weaker than before. But what if that was just a fluke? What if she got hit again with those feelings and they took control of her like in Amman?
Alex paused by the front door, glancing over his shoulder.
What if she attacked him again?
No.
She had to focus. Because if she didn’t, if she let fear paralyze her, then she might as well bag this mission up and throw it in the dumpster.
Alex signaled for them to go around the side of the house. Their boots crunched over gravel, loud in the quiet night. They found a back patio with a bench and table. The glass doors were at least intact. No broken windows. No sign of a forced entry. Maybe they had made it there before whoever had set fire to the lab.
Alex tried the back door. It was locked, but it took him only a few seconds to pick the fragile mechanism. The door slid back with a slight scrape, and they entered the darkened first floor. A small kitchen clung to one corner, leading to a wide space with a television and a sofa. Shelves with dense textbooks covered the walls. A few notebooks were laid out on a table in front of the couch.
Skylar glanced through a couple of the notebooks. To no surprise, they were written in Arabic. She couldn’t read them, but she saw a few hand-drawn images that looked suspiciously like chemical symbols.
“Think we hit gold,” Skylar whispered as all three notebooks found their way into her pack.
They cleared an office with a handful of books set out on a desk and a bathroom that still smelled of disinfectant. The smell was strong enough that Skylar wondered if maybe Smadi was still here. Living in this house, cutting himself off from the rest of the world. Maybe he was one of those crazy scientists who shut himself away when he had a brilliant idea he needed to explore.
The second floor was next. They climbed a set of stairs and came to a stop right outside a bedroom with a slightly ajar door. From Skylar’s vantage, she could see the moonlight sparkling off broken shards of glass on the tile floor. The legs of the bedside table had been busted off, and a lamp lay broken beside it. Pools of dark liquid covered the tiled floor. More streaked the wall between handprints.
At Alex’s signal, they both surged into the bedroom with their handguns at the ready. Immediately, her eyes were drawn toward the figure in the corner of the room near the bed. Heart pounding, holding her breath, she inched toward it.
The man had a black beard. A gash cut along his forehead. Next to his hand was a knife. She kept her gun leveled at his chest. The man didn’t so much as twitch. After kicking his knife away, she bent closer to check his pulse.
Nothing.
“He’s dead,” she said. “But he’s still warm.”
The guy’s muscles were bulging beneath his long-sleeved shirt. He was in good physical shape. A soldier, contractor, bodybuilder. Whatever. He looked nothing like the bookish images she’d seen of Smadi.
“Not our guy,” she said.
She patted him down and searched his pockets, hoping to find anything that might explain why he was here. But he had no ID. No cell phone.
“Did Smadi do this?” she asked, slowly rising
from the body.
Alex looked out the window to the bedroom. It had been broken. “I have a hard time believing the professor stopped a guy like that.”
After taking an image of his face and sending it back to Vector HQ for analysis, she joined Alex near the window.
“Once again, we’re too late,” she said. “Missed whoever did this by seconds.”
“Whoever killed this guy, they couldn’t have left too long ago,” he said.
“You think we spooked them when we showed up?” she asked.
“I didn’t see anyone leave when we got here, but that doesn’t mean—” He paused. “Maybe they’re still in the house.”
Skylar stared out the door to the hall. They hadn’t seen anyone else. But good God, if he was right, then there was no way she was going to let this person escape. Not after what had happened to the lab.
At the back of her mind, she braced herself for the wave of pain and anger flooding her brain again. Wondered if someone would ambush them right when she went crazy once again. She prowled toward the doorway then started into the hall.
Didn’t hear footsteps. No breathing.
Just saw two open doorways. One that led into the bathroom and another into a bedroom. She took her first steps toward the bedroom.
Suddenly, she heard heavy footsteps behind her. She spun on her heels, bringing her weapon to bear. But before she could aim it, a heavy force smacked against her wrists. The gun went clattering away.
A tall man with a striking jawline and wavy black hair stood in front of her, the rest of his features barely visible in the pale light seeping into the hall. The one thing that was decidedly visible was the pistol aimed straight at her face.
He said something in Arabic, his voice coming out in a growl. When Skylar didn’t respond, he said in English, “Put your hands up and back away slowly. Tell your friend in there to lose his gun too.”
-18-
Balagh pointed his pistol at the woman who had just left Smadi’s bedroom. She had the demeanor of someone who didn’t like to surrender. The glint in her eyes, the way her fingers twitched made him worry.
Her partner didn’t seem to react at all. The man was preternaturally calm, like he expected this.
That worried him even more.
Should he just shoot them now? Just a few quick trigger pulls, and they’d both be done for. Just like that other gunman in Smadi’s bedroom.
He was tired of running and fighting. Maybe he should just kill them both. Get this over with now.
That pack he’d found at the castle had contained the phone number of Dr. Nadel Smadi. When the man hadn’t picked up, Balagh had come straight to his house. He had planned on waiting here until the professor showed up.
Instead, it was that gunman who had arrived, smelling like gasoline and smoke. He had refused to answer any of Balagh’s questions. Wouldn’t tell him what was going on. Why he was in Smadi’s house.
Even after Balagh had taken his gun, the guy attacked. He’d taken several stabs to his leg and one in his side. If he kept getting cut up and sliced up like this, he was going to be limping to wherever this scavenger hunt from hell took him next.
He needed these people alive. To know why they were following him. What they wanted. And how he could get them to finally stop.
Because killing them wasn’t working.
Maybe then he could return to whatever life he’d had before it had been stolen from him. Before his memories had been dashed away like so many grains of sand in the wind.
“What do you want?” the woman asked him. She didn’t seem the slightest bit uncomfortable standing in front of his gun.
Her accent was clearly American.
“I want answers,” he said, trying not to let his fear of her creep into his voice.
She took a tentative step toward him. Almost as if she was testing him.
“Don’t.” He never let his aim waver. “I will shoot. And tell your partner to drop his gun.”
The man in the bedroom slowly lowered his pistol and set it on the floor.
“How many more of you are there?” he asked.
The woman glanced to her left. Like she was searching for an answer.
“We’re it,” she said.
“Don’t lie,” he said. “I’ve killed three people in the past two days. You want to make that five?”
“I don’t lie,” she said, an edge of anger to her voice.
“Tell me who you are,” he said.
The man answered this time. “We’re searching for Dr. Smadi. We heard he went missing, and we were asked to investigate.”
“You’re telling me the Jordanian government sent two Americans to find a missing professor?” Balagh asked.
“This guy’s kind of important,” Skylar said. “But if you’re here, I’m guessing you knew that. What do you want with Smadi?”
“I’m asking the questions.” Balagh took one step closer. Truthfully, he didn’t know what he wanted with Smadi. Other than the fact the man’s name had been in his notebook with that cryptic Ring of Solomon text. “Tell me why you are here. No lies.”
The man spoke again. “We are worried that Dr. Smadi might have been pursuing dangerous research. He may have been involved with terrorists.”
“Terrorists?” Balagh asked.
Was that who was after him? Al Qaeda? ISIS sympathizers? Hezbollah? God, what had he done?
“We were hoping to get to him before it was too late,” the man continued. Balagh could feel the guy’s eyes trace over him. Almost as if the man could pick through his thoughts like they were nothing but pages in a book. “Do you know where Smadi is?”
Balagh tried to grapple with these revelations. If terrorists were after Smadi, then he didn’t want to believe he was on their side. No way he was a terrorist. So if these people were trying to save Smadi from terrorists, did that mean he should give them the benefit of the doubt?
No, he wouldn’t let down his guard. These two were under his control. So long as he had the gun, he drove the conversation.
“Tell me the truth this time. How many others are with you?” he asked.
“She wasn’t lying,” the man said. “We’re alone.” He held up his hands in a placating gesture. “I can see you’re scared. That you’re confused. However, if you kill us, you won’t have to be worried about being scared or confused for long. There are going to be a lot more people after you.”
“Tell me who you work for,” Balagh said. “Who Smadi works for.”
Maybe he could drive enough information from them that he could figure out why he wanted to find Dr. Smadi.
“We can’t,” the woman said.
“You don’t have a choice,” Balagh said. He tapped the side of the pistol.
He heard a car rumble down the street. Reinforcements? Or just an innocent neighbor? No way to tell, but the longer he stayed here, the riskier it would be.
“Tell me,” he repeated, this time letting the frustration burn through his voice.
The woman remained silent, anger simmering in her expression. But her partner might as well have been playing a high-stakes game of poker. There was nothing but ice there, a cool detachedness that frightened Balagh even more than the woman’s building rage. It was like staring down a gun barrel in a strange bedroom in the dark of night was something he dealt with as regularly as he ate breakfast.
“You want to know what we’re doing?” the man asked. “We’re after the Ring of Solomon.”
The force of those words came at Balagh like a heavyweight boxer sending punches into his stomach. He nearly doubled over.
Those ramblings in his notebook weren’t just the gibberish of a madman.
They actually meant something.
A clue. A key.
“What do you want with the Ring?” Balagh asked. He wanted an answer to that question like he’d been wandering around Wadi Rum for days and finally been offered a drink of cold water.
The man was silent for a moment as
if considering what to say. “We think it’s a chemical weapon that has been used in a series of attacks around the Middle East. And we’re worried that those attacks will continue. That they will grow worse.”
That certainly didn’t sound like something Balagh would want. He didn’t know who he was, but by God, he could not be a terrorist. A mass murderer. He only killed to save his own life, right?
After all, he had shared his food, his water with that dog back in Wadi Musa. That was the kind of man he was.
But he still didn’t know what this Ring of Solomon was or what it did.
Unless…
Maybe it had something to do with those vials he’d found in his pack. A violent chill struck down his spine.
Yes, these were definitely people he wanted to talk to. People that could tell him who or what he’d been running from. Whether they were on his side or not, they knew things.
He took another step forward, motioning for the woman to retreat to the bedroom. There, he could better keep them both in his aim, ensuring neither made a move while he interrogated them. But as he moved forward through the pale wash of moonlight shifting in from a window, the woman nearly stumbled back from him. She looked as if she had seen a man climb from his grave. Her face went whiter, eyes wide.
Even that wall of ice surrounding the man seemed to melt. He stared at Balagh as if transfixed by an unfolding disaster.
“What?” he asked. “What is the matter with you?”
“That’s him,” the woman muttered. “Holy shit.”
The man nodded slowly. “Why don’t you put down the gun so we can talk? We’re all on the same side here.” His tone had abruptly changed. The icy calm had been replaced by the almost comforting voice of a brother who was finally being reunited with a long-lost sibling.
Alex could hardly believe it. All this time, they had feared they had lost Ballard’s trail. Now they had stumbled right back onto it.
Demon Mind (Vector Book 2) Page 16
