by Sean Ellis
As soon as they arrived at Fulbright’s “safe house,” Sara transferred the blood samples from her bag to the refrigerator. Less than an hour had passed since she and Fulbright had been whisked away from the hospital by helicopter. A short flight to a private airfield had followed, and almost immediately upon arriving, they had driven to a house in an upscale neighborhood in Bole, south of the city.
Sara felt like a piece of driftwood in a raging river. Caught in the current of events beyond her control, there was not even the illusion of choice. She clutched the specimen bag like a lifeline; at least that was something she understood. She had to keep the blood drawn from Felice Carter viable. Processing the specimens and learning what secrets they held would have to wait until the team showed up with the equipment.
That was what she kept telling herself.
But as she watched Fulbright’s face change during yet another phone conversation, she knew that wasn’t going to happen. When he finally rang off and turned to her, she quickly sat down.
“The fire started in the lab,” he said in a quiet voice. “They recovered five bodies, all badly burned. It wasn’t an accident. The police aren’t saying anything more, but there’s going to be an investigation.”
Sara closed her eyes and took a breath. She knew she should be shocked or sad, but she just couldn’t wrap her head around it. She had only left Frey and the others for a few minutes to assess the patient, and part of her believed that they were still there, waiting for her to return. It was almost too much to comprehend that they had all been ripped out of the world. She took another deep breath. “I have to make contact with CDC headquarters. I have to let them know what’s happened.”
Fulbright pursed his lips. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Whoever did this, they specifically targeted your team. They knew you were coming and they wanted to make sure you couldn’t get the job done. By now, they’ve probably had time to figure out that they didn’t complete that job, and that means they’ll be looking for you. We have to keep you off the radar.”
“I can’t do anything without equipment.”
Fulbright nodded. “We can order whatever you need and have it overnighted.”
“We’re talking very specialized equipment. Thousands of dollars. And I’ll still have to be able to uplink with the CDC in order to make sense of whatever I discover.”
“Money isn’t an issue. Right now, I’m more concerned with figuring out who’s behind this.”
A concealed vault door, equipped with both a numeric lock and a retinal scanning device, led to an austere computer room. Fulbright logged onto a desktop terminal and then, with Sara’s guidance, started ordering medical equipment from private sector supply companies. Sara kept her shopping list modest, and after about an hour had put together a field expedient research lab. Fulbright produced a platinum American Express card and paid for it all, as well as the hefty overnight shipping charges, without a second look.
“There’s nothing more you can do right now,” Fulbright told her when they had concluded. “You should get some rest. Maybe something to eat.”
She nodded perfunctorily. While they had been occupied with procuring the equipment, she had been able to cope, but now a wave of fatigue and loss was looming. The only way to stave off a crash was to keep busy, keep her mind engaged with the problem.
“Listen,” she said, pausing at the doorway. “I know somebody who might be able to help us sort this out. He has access to resources that…” She left the sentence hanging; if Fulbright was what she thought he was, he would understand.
And he seemed to. He regarded her thoughtfully. “This friend of yours…He works for the government, right?”
He leaned back in his chair and sighed. “I’m guessing you know a little something about interdepartmental rivalries. Sometimes agencies work against each other, usually unintentionally, and the left hand doesn’t know what the right is doing.”
“What’s your point?”
“Until I have a better idea who is behind all this, I really don’t know who to trust. This could have been an op sanctioned by another agency. We can’t trust anyone right now.”
Sara felt a flare of indignation. “Jack would never be involved in something like that.”
“I’m sure you’re right. But if we reach out to him, we might send up a red flag. Someone will put two and two together and compromise us.” Before she could protest again, his demeanor softened. “But this is all just theoretical. Whoever did this left footprints. Let me do some digging. As soon as we know who’s behind this, you can contact your friend.”
It wasn’t much of a concession, but the idea of being able to call Jack filled her with hope.
# # #
Sara awoke to find Fulbright, sitting in a chair opposite the sofa, quietly watching her. She was accustomed to waking up in strange places, and this was no different. Nevertheless, his scrutiny made her self-conscious. She rubbed her face and ran a hand through her spiky hair, trying to make herself a little more presentable, before acknowledging him.
“How long was I out?”
“A few hours,” he replied, with a subdued smile. “I’ve got some good news and some bad news. And some more bad news.”
“Bad news first.”
“Actually, let me start with the good news. I know who was behind the attack on the hospital.”
She sat up a little straighter. “Do tell.”
“An outfit called Manifold Genetics.”
“Manifold?” Sara felt her heart skip a beat.
“I take it you’ve heard of them.”
She nodded, but didn’t elaborate. “So what’s the bad news?”
“Well, that’s part of it. Manifold has been involved in some very nasty stuff. Officially, the company was broken up a couple years ago, but that hasn’t slowed them down. It turns out, Nexus-the company Felice Carter worked for-was a subsidiary of Manifold. They sent her and her expedition to the Rift to retrieve something, and she succeeded. And now, whatever it was, they have it.
“I managed to get satellite imagery of the area immediately after the attack at the hospital. We caught a break there. With the increase in terrorist activity and piracy in the Horn of Africa, we’ve got birds overhead. Their helicopter headed due east to a ship anchored in the Indian Ocean. Intel suggests that it’s some kind of floating bioweapons development facility. So, not only do they have whatever it is they were after, but they’re probably already working on the next phase of their plan: turning it into a weapon.”
Sara shook her head. “If Manifold is behind this, then it’s much worse than you can imagine. You have to let me contact Jack-the friend I told you about. He knows all about Manifold. He’s the one who took them down.”
Fulbright raised an eyebrow. “I’m afraid there isn’t time for that. I’ve been ordered to lead an insertion team onto the ship in order to secure their research.”
“And that would be the ‘more bad news’?” Sara asked.
“No.” His expression turned into a grimace. “I need you to go with me.”
When she didn’t comment, he hastened to explain his request. “Believe me, I wish there was another way. But you’re the only one who’s going to be able to make sense of what we find there.”
“I’ll do it.”
Fulbright’s eyebrows drew together. “I’m not sure you understand what I’m saying. This action is going to be extremely prejudicial.”
“Spare me the spy double-speak. You’re going to kill everyone, right? I get it. These bastards killed my friends. And I’m sure whatever they’ve got planned will kill a whole lot more people. So, am I bothered by the fact that you’re going to be ‘extremely prejudicial’? Not really.” I’m more worried about what you and your spy friends might be tempted to do with that research once you’ve got your hands on it, she thought, but didn’t say aloud.
“I’ll do everything I can to ensure your safety. You won’t go in until the site is secure, but there’s
still an element of risk.”
“I can take care of myself. When do we leave?”
12.
“Ethiopia?”
There was a brief pause and King could almost envision Deep Blue checking the history of his movements from the record of information transmitted by the GPS tracker in his phone.
It was early morning in Addis Ababa, early afternoon in New Hampshire where the new Chess Team headquarters was situated. After checking out the supplies and rented vehicles-two newer model Range Rovers-that Moses had acquired the previous evening, and meeting the four young Ethiopian men he had hired as assistants-King had made a mental note to avoid using the term ‘bearers’-he had decided it was time to check in with the home office.
“Well, you have been busy. Two different incidents, and you were right in the middle of both. Care to fill me in?”
“Manifold. They’re back in business.” King quickly brought Deep Blue up to speed, starting with Sara’s mysterious text message, and ending with his decision to accompany Felice Carter back to the Great Rift Valley.
“Is this one of the clones?” Deep Blue asked.
“That’s a possibility. I suppose it’s also possible that he had so many projects going under different umbrellas that these guys don’t know their boss is dead. They might operate autonomously and only involve Ridley when they have something worthwhile to report.”
“What do you think they’re after this time?” Deep Blue asked.
“I’m still trying to figure that out. I think this started as a fishing expedition, without a clear goal. They just happened to find something important enough to kill for. But that’s not why I called.”
“Sara.”
King took a deep breath. “I need you to find her for me.”
There was another period of silence before Chess Team’s runner spoke again. “The Ethiopian government is trying to keep this under wraps, but it looks like six bodies were recovered from the hospital.”
Six? There had been five CDC scientists in the lab. His heart fell.
“Five were recovered from the first floor, and another-a male-was pulled from a site of a fire on the fourth floor. No identification on any of them yet.”
Male? Then he remembered the Gen-Y shooter he had killed in Felice’s room; the sixth corpse. “Sara isn’t one of them. She was at the hospital when all this went down, but I didn’t find her. As far as I know, she’s still alive.”
“She hasn’t checked in with the CDC. Could she have been captured by the Gen-Y team?”
“I don’t know.” It was a plausible theory, but it just didn’t feel right. “I can’t imagine what her value to them would be.”
“I’m sorry, King.”
“I can’t think about that right now. I’ve got to focus on Manifold; figure out what they’re up to. But keep looking for Sara, and contact me immediately if you find her.”
“Absolutely.”
King thumbed the ‘end’ button and dropped the phone in a pocket. It was time to go.
He found Felice, now wearing blue jeans and a t-shirt, pacing the floor of Moses’ residence, like a caged animal. She looked up when he entered, an eager, almost hungry expression on her face. “Now?”
“In a minute. First, I need to know about where we’re going. And what you were looking for there.”
“That’s proprietary information. I’m not at liberty to share it with you.”
“In case you weren’t paying attention, you got a termination notice yesterday. I don’t think you have to worry about a law suit from your former employer. But you’re not getting back to that cave without my help, and we don’t go anywhere until you start talking.”
She returned a pensive frown, not so much bothered by his line of questioning as she was the fact that it was yet another delay. “What do you want to know?”
“Yesterday, you said that you learned of this site from…what was the word you used? ‘Esoteric sources’? What did you mean by that?”
“Just that. Instead of relying solely on the verifiable historical record, sometimes we pay attention to local folklore. We don’t necessarily take it at face value, but sometimes a pattern emerges, sort of like clues to a treasure map.” She resumed pacing the room. “Have you ever heard of the legendary lost graveyard of the elephants?”
“Sounds like something from a Tarzan movie,” King remarked.
Felice stopped for a moment, and faced him, her face completely serious. “There’s a reason for that. The elephant graveyard is one of those tall tales that has been circulating Africa for centuries, just like King Solomon’s Mines or the Kingdom of Prester John. Stories like that tend to take on a life of their own after a while.
“According to the myth, there’s a place where all the elephants go when they know they’re about to die. They’re drawn there, like it’s something in their collective subconscious. A lot of dead elephants in one place means a fortune in ivory, just lying there waiting for someone to collect.”
“But elephants don’t really do that,” King said. “I mean, we’d know if they did.”
She nodded. “Scientific advancements, both in the field of zoology and remote sensing, have verified that elephants don’t behave that way. But when you consider that today’s elephant population has been nearly wiped out by poachers and big game hunters, who’s to say that something like that wasn’t the case a few hundred years ago.
“Most of the stories about the elephant graveyard were easily enough disproven, but one lead was promising because of where it led us: the Great Rift Valley. We know that people have been living in the Rift for hundreds of thousands of years. It made sense that, if there were any truth to the story, then it would have originated there.”
“And why was Nexus interested in elephant bones?”
“As I said, the graveyard would be evidence of collective behavior that isn’t evident in modern elephants. Our goal was to compare DNA from elephants in the graveyard with that of modern elephants, and hopefully isolate the genetic markers associated with that behavior. If we could identify the section of the elephant genome associated with intelligence, it would go a long way toward understanding the evolution of human consciousness.”
King pondered her answer. He didn’t get the impression that she was being intentionally deceptive, but her explanation didn’t square with his knowledge of Manifold’s agenda, nor did it explain why they were willing to kill in order to get control of whatever had been discovered. Finally, he asked: “What about the ape skull that you brought back?”
She gave a helpless shrug, her expression indicating that she was even more bothered by that incongruity than he.
“You’ve got to remember something,” he persisted. “Why else would you be so insistent on returning?”
“That’s just it. I have to go back there to find what I lost.”
King considered her answer but he kept coming back to something else she had said. Drawn there… something in their collective subconscious.
Is that what’s happening to her?
And if what she had found in the cave had awakened some kind of link to a collective subconscious-one that could affect human behavior-what did Manifold have planned for it?
He knew he wasn’t going to get those answers from her, and he sensed he was nearing the point where her singular desire to return to the cave would make her less cooperative, more demanding. It was time to get moving.
King drove the lead vehicle, with Felice and Moses as passengers. Felice had not spoken more than a few words since their earlier discussion, and as they drove she simply stared out the window, as if hoping to catch a glimpse of their destination, despite the fact that it lay hundreds of miles to the north. Moses responded to King’s questions, but likewise showed little interest in conversation, leaving King alone with his thoughts, which given the uncertainty surrounding Sara’s fate, was not a good thing.
As he drove, King’s realized that he was scanning the road ahead for signs of an
ambush or improvised explosive device placement, habits that had become second nature when he had driven in Afghanistan and Iraq. Ethiopia was no war zone, though there were reports of bandits in remote regions, and intel suggesting a burgeoning Al Qaida presence. After the events of the previous day, maybe a little paranoia was a good thing.
While Moses had been out gathering the supplies for the expedition, King had done some shopping as well. He had contacted a more-or-less trustworthy black-market arms dealer, and purchased a used but serviceable Dragunov SVD, equipped with a detachable PSO-1 scope. It wasn’t his first choice, but Russian weapons were more readily available. The sniper rifle’s accessories package included a bayonet, which he decided would make a decent substitute for his beloved KA-BAR knife. The dealer had delivered the rifle, along with 500 rounds of 7.62 mm and several boxes of 9 mm rounds for the MP-5. King felt a little better prepared than he had upon arriving in Addis Ababa, but knew that surviving possible future encounters would depend more on good luck and good judgment than on firepower alone. And he already felt like he’d used up a year’s worth of good luck.
The day passed uneventfully. They kept to the main highway, traveling north as far as the city of Komolcha, where they ate and refueled, and then traveled east to Semera, the new regional capital of the Afar district. Although there were several hours of daylight remaining, they found lodging and spent the night there. Beyond Semera, there would be little in the way of creature comforts.
Felice seemed to grow more anxious, and more solitary, with each mile traveled. King left her alone. He doubted there was anything more she could tell him, and if there were, it would have to wait until she was ready, until she satisfied the compulsion that was drawing her back to the mysterious cave in the Rift Valley. Moses similarly kept to himself, conversing with the other hired men only to the extent that his duties as translator and de facto expedition manager required him to do so. Like Felice, he also seemed to be in the grip of an external force, not a subconscious homing instinct, but something less specific-the gravity of personal destiny.
