Our awestruck group stared at my sister, who smiled back at us with gentle humility. In the candlelight she seemed to glow from within with near divinity.
But one thing had snagged me. “Lilly, you said this could evolve everyone’s minds. You meant everyone who’d been infected with the CAV-A or CAV-B?”
“No, Susie.” Lilly’s eyes were positively twinkling. “I meant everyone everyone.”
A hush fell. Then Crash slowly asked the key question, “Do you mean to say . . . that if any of us takes a whiff of this . . . ?”
Lilly nodded. “You’ll make exactly the same leap that James and I did: to 3.0.”
Stunned silence.
Crash stared, almost reverently, at the bottle in his hand and then eloquently articulated our group reaction, whispering, “. . . Ho-lee shit.”
We were all breathless.
After a moment I also whispered, “Yeah,” while still trying to gather my amazed wits. “Holy shit, indeed.” I tried to imagine it. “A world of Human 3.0s? Talk about ‘one giant leap for mankind.’”
“And womankind,” Ronnie said with a delighted grin.
We all stared at each other, trying to get our Human 1.0 brains around this staggering concept.
Finally I said, very slowly, “Okaaaay . . .” Then I took a big breath, needing to bring us back to necessities that were pressing. “Okay. What Lilly’s done is”—I glanced again at Lilly, a smiling archangel—“beyond astounding.” I forced myself to focus. “But listen. Right this second we’ve all got to stay on track. Chris is missing. He may have gone over to their side.” The others reacted with appropriate shock. “Simone’s been arrested for snooping at the Everett plant where her husband works.” Everyone evidenced more concern as I went on, “Yeah. Means we may have to abandon this place, so we have to prepare for that while we also work quickly to create a large quantity of Lilly’s cure.”
“But there’s so many people infected,” Eric said. “How do we cure them all?”
“Pump it into ventilation systems? Spray it from helicopters?” Javier suggested.
Gwyneth shook her head. “Sounds pretty impractical, but—”
“Maybe the best way’s one at a time,” Crash said. “But we gotta start at the top: shit rolls downhill, right?” He held up the bottle. “Good shit’ll do the same thing.”
“Yes,” I agreed, energized. “I’ve seen a snowball get way bigger, rolling down a mountain, spreading out fast, and turning into an avalanche.”
Katie McLane. . .
Eric put his arm around my shoulder, enthused, “God, Katie, maybe we could win this thing after all.”
He had no clue how my stomach was twisting in knots. All I could think about was Darren in that cell, what they’d done to him already. I was scared sick about how much worse would happen to him—and Eric—if I didn’t do what Brown demanded.
Meanwhile Lilly agreed with Susan, “Yes. The snowball approach would spread it quickly and exponentially. I can create a few liters of the solution right away, but a larger quantity will take time because first we’ll need to replicate a large volume of the virus to use as a base for the formula and—”
“Hey,” Jimmy-Joe interrupted, “could y’all use somma that CAV-B as a base?” Lilly nodded. Jimmy-Joe grinned. “Great! ’Cause we know ’bout a whole damn truckload!”
“Right,” Susan explained, “Simone’s husband sent Jimmy-Joe photos of a shipping container of CAV-B canisters. He said it’ll travel on backroads to avoid notice, heading north, likely toward Washington—”
“And all the sitting ducks in Congress, the White House!? . . . Jesus.” Nate was fearful.
“Clarence doesn’t know exactly when it’ll depart, but soon,” Susan said.
“So we find out when and grab it,” Crash said.
Others agreed, chimed in with suggestions, their eager voices swimming in my spinning, splitting head, their plans taking shape. I knew that Brown wanted to know those plans.
But I also knew that wasn’t all he wanted. I’d seen how he’d looked me over.
And suddenly I realized exactly what I had to do.
Security Cam Video, Private Residential; Case 71782-AB; Date: 04/29/21 Time: 20:08:15
Address: 69 Granville Dr., Atlanta, GA 30318
Loc: Brown Estate Foyer, Night
Cam: # 07
Transcript by: ATL PD - #56230
Visual Desc: Front door chime is answered by Edward Baker, 32, black male, in jacket and tie, assistant to owner. He admits Katharine McLane, 15, white female, in dress w/jacket over. Baker escorts her toward the library-study.
Courtesy ATL PD, FBI
Katie McLane. . .
At eight o’clock the next night, Dr. Abraham Brown’s assistant, Mr. Baker, led me into the private study of the grand old Tudor estate. It had serious furnishings that totally reflected the reverend’s “substantial” public image. Dark leather chairs and a matching couch were in front of the fire in the huge stone fireplace.
Bookshelves lined the walls, with one of those rolling ladders to reach high shelves about twelve feet above the polished wood floor. There was a massive rolltop desk large enough for a family to live in. It had a couple dozen drawers, cubbies, and pigeonholes that might hold a treasure trove of secret info if a spy could search them.
“Good evening, Miss McLane.” I jumped when I heard that oh-so-deep voice, which he was clearly proud of. I took a nervous breath and turned to see the reverend entering through the tall mahogany archway, wearing a silky crimson lounging jacket. “I’m delighted you decided to honor us with your presence.” He took my hand, which looked teensy in his large, thick one as he smiled. “And there’s no need to be uneasy, I assure you.” He held my hand for slightly longer than necessary, then looked around. “What do you think of my little place?”
“Very impressive, Dr. Brown.”
“Abraham, please. Would you like to see a bit more?”
“Sure.” I was kinda relieved, ’cause I was very worried about having to get down to business. He gave me a tour of his huge living room with historical stuff gathered from various trips to the Holy Land and a boyhood photo of himself in a group with Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. He showed me his dining room for twenty, his cushy screening room, and the small chapel where he made his “solemn, daily devotions to Christ Jesus.”
Security Cam Video, Private Residential; Case 71782-AB; Date: 04/29/21 Time: 20:17:05
Loc: Brown Estate Foyer, Grand Stairway Landing
Cam: # 08
Transcript by: ATL PD - #56230
Visual Desc: Dr. Brown leads Katharine McLane from chapel to base of grand stairway. He gestures toward second floor, she seems nervous but nods, then precedes him up to first landing, where they stop to admire a statue. Assistant Jay Farrell, white, 28, in jacket and tie approaches upstairs behind them.
Courtesy ATL PD, FBI
On the landing he paused to point out a very lifelike marble statue of three naked girls just slightly younger than me. “The Three Graces,” he said. “. . . Exquisite, aren’t they?”
“Yeah . . . really,” I muttered, getting very tense, my breathing shallow. I was startled by a tailored young guy who’d come up silently behind us, holding a tray with two champagne glasses. As he handed me one, the reverend introduced Jay Farrell as his other house assistant. Then as Farrell walked downstairs, Dr. Brown guided me smoothly up to the second floor with his hand in the curved small of my back. My palms were sweating. I knew I had to focus on the difficult business I’d come for and get it over with as soon as I could.
Security Cam Video, Private Residential; Case 71782-AB; Date: 04/29/21 Time: 20:18:14
Loc: Brown Estate Master Bedroom
Cam: # 13, 14, 15
Transcript by: ATL PD - #56230
Visual Desc: Dr. Brown leads Katharine McLane into master bedroom.
Courtesy ATL PD, FBI
My heart started fluttering wildly as I looked around. The bedroom had a high
, beamed ceiling, and furniture with old Englishy patterns. There was a small writing desk with antique inkwells, and a fancy fireplace with a tufted velvet love seat nearby. The creamy carpet was plush. I wondered how many young girls had curled their bare toes into its pile. My stomach was turning inside out. I saw a pair of framed, standing mirrors, which would’ve provided convenient reflections of whatever was happening on the bed. It was an exceedingly large mahogany four-poster with a patchwork comforter and pillows. I swallowed uncomfortably. “Think it’s . . . big enough?”
“It usually is,” the reverend said, “specially made for me. I’m rather a large man.”
That made me really quake. I turned to look out through the lead glass window, set my champagne glass on the sill, feeling very queasy. “Must be . . .”—my voice was failing now—“. . . a nice . . . view from here, huh?”
“Not as nice as my view from here . . .”
In a mirror I could see him looking at my legs, then, setting his own glass aside, he began moving toward me . . .
Security Cam Video, Private Residential; Case 71782-AB; Date: 04/29/21 Time: 20:19:01
Loc: Brown Estate Master Bedroom
Cam: # 13, 14, 15
Transcript by: ATL PD - #56230
Visual Desc: Katharine McLane is looking out the master bedroom window. Dr. Brown approaches her slowly from behind. Places his hands on her shoulders. Then he turns her around and is startled when she sprays a white mist directly in his face.
Courtesy ATL PD, FBI
28
MAYDAY
Dr. Susan Perry. . .
We were really getting worried. We’d been sitting in an old SUV a half block down from Abraham Brown’s Tudor mansion, which Katie had disappeared into fifty-six minutes earlier.
“If she’s not out in four more . . . ,” Eric said.
Ronnie, in her Atlanta PD uniform, checked her pistol. “I’m ready to rock.”
“Hey!” Crash blurted from behind his binoculars, “We got movement at the door!”
We all crowded to look out and saw Katie come flying out of Brown’s front door and running toward us. It looked like she was crying hysterically. Crash threw the SUV into gear and sped toward her. Ronnie opened the side door just as Katie reached us, and pulled her in, then Crash burned rubber away. Katie was screaming, “Ohmigod! Ohmigod!”
Eric hugged her. “What did they do to you? Katie!?”
Then we realized she was hysterically laughing. “Nothing! It’s what I did to them! It was perfect! Ohmigod, it was soooo perfect! Exactly like we planned!”
“Tell us!” I stammered, amazed, relieved.
“Okay, okay!” She was gushing, trying to catch her breath. “First I checked out like who else was there. Only his two assistant guys, Baker and Farrell. Farrell was actually kinda cute, he had—”
“Katie!” Ronnie shouted, “Get to the—”
“Yeah, yeah, okay. Then I got Brown to take me away from them. Upstairs. To his bedroom.”
“What!” Eric scolded, “I told you no Mata Hari!”
Katie grinned. “Don’t worry, we didn’t dooo anything. Although he was just about to try when I sprayed him.”
Ronnie was loving it. “And . . . ?”
“It was just like we saw with Jimmy-Joe. He clenched up, sorta convulsed, then collapsed in a heap and lay there a minute. But then when he woke up? Oh. My. God.”
“Oh my God, what?” Crash shouted as he kept driving fast.
“Exactly that! ‘Oh. My. God!’ He fell to his knees in front of me, saying it over and over, ‘Oh. My. God.’ It was like he suddenly realized what a lying, hypocritical, child-molesting, shitheel he’d been and was facedown at my feet begging forgiveness, sobbing, tearing his hair. He took the Leap big-time. It was like Born Again on steroids—times infinity!”
“So how’d you handle him?”
“Just like we rehearsed it, Suse. I stayed calm, knelt there beside him, explained what had happened and why. His tears kept like pouring out, but he was nodding, understanding like every single word. Eager—begging—to make amends for all his many transgressions. I told him exactly how he was going to do that. He called each of his guys in one at a time, and we sprayed them. Same deal, same reaction.”
“Three for three. Sonuvabitch,” Crash said. “You rock, Katie!”
“Then I told him to call Ashton,” Katie went on. “He got Darren released right away.”
“Brilliant, Kate.” Eric hugged her again. “Perfect.”
“Thanks. And he’s working on getting Simone out, too. Then I told him the other stuff: to keep all this totally secret, that we’d let him know when to arrange an urgent meeting at his house with Mitchell, Lauren, and Hutch so we can juice them.”
Ronnie focused in. “What about that shipment? Did he know when it’s—”
“Day after tomorrow: May first,” Katie said, “leaving the Everett plant at three o’clock in the afternoon ’cause they want it to arrive in Washington in the middle of the night.”
I reached over, cupped the back of her pixie head, and pulled her in for a big kiss on the cheek. “Katie, you are incredible.”
“Thanks, Suse . . . And I asked about Chris, too, but Brown hadn’t met him or had any contact yet. He offered to try to get some info from Lauren or Hutch, but—”
“That might’ve made them suspicious and—”
“Exactly what he and I decided. Sorry, Suse. Hopefully we’ll get Chris back soon.”
“Yeah.” I nodded and gave another kiss and hug to the amazing young woman.
But I remained very worried about Chris.
The Documentarian. . .
On the morning of May first, the day that shipment of CAV-B was going to move, it was very warm. On days like that the Resistance team would let some air into the warehouse by pushing the large barn door outward, swinging it all the way open and folded back against the outside wall. Because of that, the envelope [seen below], which had been attached to the face of the door, wasn’t seen that morning. It was not discovered until two days later. It was a note written by Dr. Christopher Smith.
Courtesy Katie McLane
It’s important to bear in mind that Dr. Smith had left the warehouse headquarters before Lilly had taken her Leap. So he was totally unaware that Lilly had created a cure.
His handwritten letter read:
Dear Susie,
Because of my inability to discover an antidote for the CAV, I decided my best course of action was to let the Friends think I had joined them. Having infected myself, I passed their test to prove I was “one of them.” My intention was to work against them from within, somehow incapacitating or perhaps even doing away with Mitchell, Lauren, and the core leaders. But I quickly realized there would always be others driven by their desire to dominate who would immediately move up to take over leadership. I realized it was impossible to swim against such a tide—until a cure can be discovered.
Today I learned that the Friends, having honed their puppet master techniques in Georgia, are planning to move against the national government in DC by infecting many officials with CAV-B. They’re about to transport a large shipment of it to Washington. I intend to do my utmost to sabotage and destroy that shipment. I know that will only postpone their efforts, but my hope is that I might at least buy you some time to find a cure.
I’m well aware that my effort will be a one-way trip, Susie. I want you to know I’m content with that. It may also be some small payback for the many lives that were taken by the horrific chemical weapon I was responsible for.
Godspeed, Susie. I have always loved you . . .
Chris
Dr. Smith’s letter was not discovered nor read until after the following events had taken place.
Esteban Ford, 53, truck driver. . .
We’d got the 18-wheeler rigged and ready there at Everett Biochemical. They’uz just settin’ the final ties on the container that’uz sittin’ on the flatbed. It’uz just one of them regular
containers like y’see on railroad cars or them gigantor container ships. I’uz way more interested in them two ARPCs that’uz gonna be escortin’ our truck. I’d been checkin’ ’em out. Ain’t seen one up close before. Pretty hot. Like t’drive me one, see what it feels like t’be able t’take off and fly right over a traffic jam. That’d be livin’ large.
I’uz about t’climb up behind the wheel o’the truck when this redhead guy with a beard come up. He had a security tag round his neck like the rest o’us. Name’uz Smith, Christopher. He said it’uz gonna be a long haul, and he’d like t’take the first leg. Fine by me, but I’uz confused, said, “I thought that big Samuelson guy wuz gonna be goin’ with me.”
“He’s not feelin’ so good. Hungover, I think. Told me to do it.”
I shrugged, it’uz fine by me. I’d just as soon ride along and snooze. Smith mounted up, I rode shotgun. One of them ARPCs drove around in front o’us, give us a little whoop-whoop signal from his siren, and we headed on out with the second ARPC right behind.
Katie McLane. . .
The four of us were huddled outside the back entrance to Dr. Brown’s library-study. Me, Eric, Gwyneth, and Susan. Through the door we could hear Lauren Fletcher and Hutch in the study talking quietly to Brown. They’d arrived a few minutes earlier and were waiting for Bradford Mitchell.
I was nervous because, just before we left the warehouse, I saw Susan give a flash drive to Lilly and tell her it had all the information we’d uncovered plus an audio journal she’d been recording about everything up till that day. She wanted to make sure Lilly had it “just in case.” It was those three words that made me uneasy. Like Susan had a premonition things might not go like we wanted. Like something might happen to her.
But suddenly I couldn’t think about it because we heard Mitchell’s strong voice coming into the study, saying with annoyance, “This can’t take long. The shipment is rolling. The chopper’s waiting to take us to DC to get with our people and be ready when the truck rolls in. So why was this meeting so goddamn urgent, Brown?”
The Darwin Variant Page 40
