Operation Indigo Sky

by Lawrence Ambrose

  "But I could handle that. It's the secretiveness – the isolation – that eats away at me. I want to go home and tell my, well, mate all about the exciting things I'm doing! I want to call my folks and brag to my friends. And yes, I'd like to see some public oversight, as you said."

  Come to Poppa ! I smiled sympathetically. "I understand about keeping secrets. I wish I had just one person I could share them with – besides my employer."

  "I might've shared stuff with my ex, but he was adamant about following the rules."

  "Does that have anything to do with him becoming your ex?"

  Janine's smile was more a wince. "I think it played a role. Right now I'm getting these mental blocks that I thought were from fatigue or the difficulty of the projects, but I'm starting to think they're more about what I'm working on. Some of the stuff I've done and am doing could cause harm. I don't like the feeling of not knowing how it will be used. I don't like not being able to talk to someone about it."

  "Almost any invention could harm someone. Like fighter planes, which Lockheed's built a few of."

  "I know. But at least those are about defending the country. But bioengineering a fungus – "

  Janine clamped her mouth shut with a mortified scowl. I flashed back instantly to Dr. Killian saying they'd found what they suspected was a bioengineered fungus. I hadn't seen that coming at all.

  "Since when does Lockheed Martin create fungi?" I asked quietly.

  She shook her head. "I shouldn't have said anything about that."

  "We're in a similar boat, Janine. I know some classified stuff, too. In fact, something that may relate to your project."

  "I doubt that."

  "You might be surprised."

  "Okay, I'll bite. What do you know?"

  "How about we do a trade? I'll show you mine, and you show me yours."

  She made a noise like a tea kettle hiss. "I need to know something before I say anything more. What are you doing in Palmdale? Is your target Skunk Works? It's the only big security risk in the area."

  "True." I made a show of reluctant surrender. "Okay, okay. My assignment is to break into Skunk Works."

  Janine's face froze for a moment before a sparse smile formed. "I had a feeling that might be it. Thank you for being honest."

  I sat there pretending to be grim and resigned. Her triumphant smile began to crumble.

  "Were you planning to use me to gain entrance?" she asked.

  "No," I said without hesitation. "That would leave you vulnerable to being fired or even criminal prosecution. Our firm isn't hired to destroy people's careers." I paused, hoping to let my thoughts catch up with my mouth. Or so I hoped. "I'll be going in the old-fashioned way – through the front door pretending to be someone else. Unless, of course, you warn them about me."

  I sat back, keeping a calm exterior, wondering if this charade was about to crash down on me.

  "Why shouldn't I warn them about you?" she asked.

  "Because what I'm doing is for a good cause."

  "Of course if I reported you, you might tell them I told you about the fungus."

  "If I get caught, believe me, I would never mention you."

  "You won't try to blackmail me into helping you get inside?"

  "Nope."

  "So our meeting was purely random?"

  "Yes."

  "The coincidence of our meeting – considering what you do - bothers me."

  I spread my hands wide. "Lockheed Martin has thousands of employees working here. The odds of running into one of them really aren't that bad. If I wanted to target someone to get inside, why you of all the possible people? And if I were going to do that, I'd already be trying to blackmail you, wouldn't I?"

  "You didn't have to tell me you're in security. You could've told me anything. So why did you tell me?"

  "Why did you tell me about a fungus?"

  "You have some weird effect on me. Or maybe I have some subconscious desire to confess."

  I smiled. "Maybe I do, too. More wine?"

  Janine sighed. "I guess. Just a little. Wouldn't want to develop loose lips or anything."

  I laughed and half-filled her glass. I poured myself a half-glass, too.

  "I think we've both been holding onto too many secrets," I said.

  Her smile was doubtful. "You wouldn't happen to have any proof that you work for that company – Security International, you said?"

  I pulled out my wallet and handed her my fake employee I.D. She studied it with one raised brow.

  "I'm surprised you waited so long to ask for that," I said. "Now I've confessed something. I believe it's your turn."

  "You want to know about the fungus?"

  "For starters. Is that what you're working on now?"

  She shook her head. "That was one of my first projects, and one of the most challenging. We were making several genetic modifications of Epidermophyton flossosum and Trichophyton rubrum..." She smiled at my raised eyebrows. "Organisms that cause so-called athlete's foot. We combined them with the DNA of several other genera of Ascomycota to create a fungus nearly indestructible by conventional fungicides..."

  She paused to take note of my tragicomic expression of incomprehension, but showed no mercy.

  "We created miniature integrated RFID circuitry that served both as a protective transport and food-medium," Janine continued. "When it lands on exposed skin, the fungus attaches itself and the circuitry to the skin, eventually taking the circuitry with it into the epidermis and, if the host is genetically compatible, ultimately the dermis. The chips transmit a signal that can be remotely detected."

  "No shit." I was actually getting chills. "'Genetically compatible'? Are you saying you designed this thing to go after a particular type of person?"

  "Yes. Sorry. It gets a little involved." Her shaky smile was apologetic. "We were given a genome map containing some unusual DNA strands, and were tasked to design a fungus that would be particularly fruitful on people with those traits while being attenuated by more normal individual genotypes. With normal people, the fungus would die off before the circuitry could be carried into the skin. That was probably the most difficult part of an incredibly difficult project."

  "That sounds incredibly complex. Did you actually succeed in creating that?"

  "We think so – at least in the basics. We don't know if it worked as planned, since we did no field testing. For three years we would put out stuff and the higher-ups would come back suggesting revisions. And one day the project was over."

  I had to let some of this go and focus on what was critical or we'd spend the rest of the afternoon playing 1000 questions. Sadly, I wasn't all that confident I knew what was critical. I was completely out of my depth here. Janine really should be talking with Markus Killian's microbiologist, or even Lilith, but for now I would have to do.

  "Did they ever tell what this was all about?" I asked.

  "No. Of course we assumed it had some military application – something to do with tracking people."

  "People with a special set of genes?"

  "Unusual genetic qualities, yes."

  "For instance?"

  "People who have slightly higher body temperatures and metabolism. Our fungus was designed to feed off inflammation and leukocytes. A person with an exceptionally robust immune system would provide the ideal fuel. At least that was the plan."

  "I think I have a good idea what the application might be," I said quietly. "Have you heard of chemtrails?"

  It was as if someone had rolled down a mask of disgust over Janine's face. She cocked her head at me as if she hadn't heard me correctly.

  "Are you being serious?" she asked.

  "I take it you're not a chemtrail-believer," I said with a smile.

  "I thought chemtrails had been thoroughly debunked by atmospheric scientists."

  "I've read the pro and con arguments. The chemtrailers make some strong claims that they don't seem able to back up, but the debunkers seem a bit too confident and dismi
ssive. After all, it wouldn't be the first time the U.S. Government sprayed possibly dangerous aerosol agents on an unsuspecting populace."

  She looked completely taken aback. "When did this happen?"

  "In 1950, the Navy sprayed bacteria over the city of San Francisco. Similar testing continued for almost twenty years, that we know of. In '63, the Army sprayed several U.S. Navy ships with various biological and chemical warfare agents while military personnel were onboard. In 1966 the Army released bacteria into the tunnels of the New York City subway system to test the vulnerability of subway passengers to a biological attack. They did the same thing with the Chicago subway systems. At least one researcher claims that the Army sprayed radioactive compounds over St. Louis in the fifties and sixties."

  I watched Janine wince in disbelief after each sentence.

  "Huh," she whispered. "I never heard that before."

  "So maybe you can see why I wouldn't dismiss the concept of our government spraying stuff on us that they don't tell us about."

  "Okay, but it's a big leap from spraying a few small areas to test biochemical warfare to bombarding millions of square miles. Especially from high altitudes where you can't control dispersal. And to properly saturate a country this size – not to mention the world – wouldn't it take trillions of tons of aerosol? And how could it be possible to keep a program that large and in the open a secret? It's not my area of expertise, admittedly, but I'm sure of that much."

  I nodded along with her points. They were part of the reasons that I hadn't been a believer – at best, an agnostic.

  "I don't know much about the technical aspects," I said, "but I have run into an Air Force pilot who said he was in an aerosol spraying program. We – my employer - checked out the residue in a spray canister. Along with barium, strontium, and aluminum – the usual chemtrail suspects – there was a biological agent that was believed to be a bioengineered form of fungi. And more: the fungus was imbedded into some form of microchip."

  Janine sank back in her chair, the color draining from her face. For a few moments it was like looking at the ghost of Janine.

  "Holy crap," she said.

  "Yeah."

  "How did you learn about this?"

  "It's just something I ran into. I don't want to go into any details."

  Janine set down her wine and stood up. She stepped to the edge of the cabana canopy, where shadows met sunlight. It seemed to me that we'd taken an impossibly long journey since we'd first met in the gym yesterday. I had no idea what the final destination was.

  Janine walked back and slumped in her seat.

  "This is giving me a headache," she moaned. "It doesn't make any sense. I can see a purpose for the fungus-RFID chip, but I can't see how it relates to radioactive metallic elements."

  "I can't, either."

  "You're sure it's true about the canister contents?"

  "Yes. And I have to think it's your fungus they detected."

  "That would be unconscionable! It's one thing to develop invasive and possible dangerous technology as a defense against Russia or China or whomever, but against your own citizens?"

  "From what you said, only certain of our own citizens."

  "For what purpose? They want to tag and monitor people with unusually strong immune systems?"

  "Maybe the health insurance companies sponsored it?" My chuckle fell flat.

  Janine covered her face and moaned again.

  "I think I need some time to process this," she said. "Alone. If you don't mind."

  "I understand. It's a lot to take in. I'm kind of reeling from what you told me, too."

  "I guess we're sort of even, then."

  I didn't see any reason to say anything more. In our short time together I'd probably gained the most valuable intelligence I could hope to get from her. Still, I hesitated.

  "Should we exchange numbers?" I asked. When she frowned, I added, "How about I give you mine, and if you want to call, feel free?"

  "Okay."

  "You want to write it down?"

  "I'll remember."

  After giving her my number, I walked out to my car feeling both regret and relief. I was kind of happy she'd given me the boot. I was enjoying her company a bit too much, and I needed to stick with business this time.

  It seemed strange to me that someone up to their eyeballs in classified projects would be skeptical about covert government programs. As smart and scientifically knowledgeable as Janine was, she was like a babe in the woods in some ways. But then scientists were trained to study straightforward phenomena, not things that purposely tried to deceive them. James Randi had shown that beautifully.

  In no rush to return to the hotel, I swung over to the street where Lilith's "mark," Sheldon Bronstein, lived. I drove slowly past his large, country-style home, which was tucked back amidst palm trees further outside of town than Janine's place.

  I spotted Lilith's grey rental Ford compact approaching. She pulled over maybe fifty yards from the house. I pulled over, too. My burner cell buzzed.

  "Hey," I said.

  "I see you. What are you doing out here?"

  "I was just on my way back to the motel, and thought I'd check out his place."

  "You've checked it out. Now please leave. He's right behind me and I need to get into character."

  "Okay. Good luck."

  I did a u-turn, but there was no way I was going to miss this. I drove several blocks down the road and parked in a shadowy spot under a scraggly tree. Lilith drove forward and stopped not far from Bronstein's driveway. She climbed out of her car and propped up the hood after fumbling with the release latch.

  The hood was hardly up when a sleek sports car appeared at the bend behind her. Lilith looked terribly agitated as she paced in front of the car speaking into her cell phone and tossing her blond mane in frustration. The sports car slowed, but continued past.

  No way. No heterosexual male would ever pass a beautiful blonde in car-distress. The very fabric of the universe would unravel before that happened.

  The car stopped and rolled backward. Lilith moved to the passenger window. Words were exchanged. Frustrated tossing of Lilith's hair. She opened the passenger-side door and slid inside.

  My faith in the cosmic order had been restored.

  The sports car curled into Bronstein's driveway. It wasn't looking good for Dr. Bronstein. Yet, how charming would Lilith be, really? Granted, he'd be so high on hormones that she probably wouldn't need to play it perfectly. But whatever happened between them, my conversations with Janine had already yielded a crown jewel to add to our intelligence stash. I was beginning to think maybe I didn't totally suck at this spy business.

  Or I was just plain fucking lucky.

  BACK AT the hotel , I typed up a two-page report detailing my conversations with Janine. When I accessed Markus's website dashboard, I found a message waiting for me.

  I thought this might prove interesting to you. I'm not sure whether to be concerned or not.

  I followed his link to an article in the Argus News:

  SIOUX FALLS MALL DEVELOPER FOUND DEAD IN HOME

  Ethan Ellenberg of Ellenberg Property Group was found dead in his home by Sioux Falls police Saturday morning after being called by an individual servicing his pool, who observed him slumped on a living room area couch through outside windows. Sergeant Williams commented that they'd seen no signs of a struggle, though the property developer had apparently suffered a blow to the head.

  The cause of death is currently being investigated by the SFPD medical examiner.

  The words were like liquid ice pouring into my veins. Had it been a brain hemorrhage? Or maybe a heart attack? Damn, I should've made him check into a hospital. But he'd seemed okay. Christ.

  I hopped out of my chair and paced the room, lightheadedness prodding me to breathe. Was it possible that Ethan didn't die naturally? That someone somehow learned that he was blabbing and shut him up? No, I didn't believe that. The fact that he was found still sitt
ing on his couch supported the mundane explanation that he stroked out or had a heart attack. And unless the elite had emergency assassination response teams, they wouldn't have gotten to him that fast even if the evil empire had been bugging his house.

  I returned to the computer and wrote a quick response to the professor's news. Beneath my self-recriminations and lingering anxiety I noticed a small sadness. The dude didn't deserve to die like that. I sensed a good man lurking under all his aristocratic baggage.

  I watched some television and drifted off during a documentary – a particular talent of mine – and was jarred awake by my cell. It was a local number. Had to be Janine.

  "Hey," I said.

  "Hi. You recognized the area code?"

  "Yeah. How are you doing?"

  "I don't like the way I threw you out. You didn't do anything that horribly wrong. And you didn't have to tell me what you're doing here. I just felt overwhelmed."

  "I don't blame you."

  "What am I supposed to do now, Scott? What am I supposed to do with this?"

  "What would you like to do?"

  "Get my fingers around someone's throat and choke them until they tell the truth." She released a nervous-sounding laugh. "And I'm practically a pacifist. Even the thought of violence makes me sick."

  "It must be hard for you to watch the news."

  "I almost never watch the news." Janine cleared her throat softly. "So. I was just wondering, you know, about your plans..."

  "You mean my mission here?"

  "Well, um, yes. In part."

  "I'm working on it." A smile crept into my voice. "Was there another part?"

  "I don't know. Your other plans, beyond your mission?"

  "Those are kind of up in the air. How about yours?"

  "They're kind of airborne, too." Her sigh was a soft wind across the connection. "I don't see how I can keep doing what I do, Scott, knowing what I know now."

  "I'm sorry, Janine. But I have a feeling that with your talents a lot of employers besides Lockheed Martin would be ecstatic to have you."

  "Hypothetically. I'm right in the middle of a do or die project. I'd be deserting my team if I left now."