by David Bruns
“I’ll do it,” Dre said.
CHAPTER 44
Project Deliverance, 50 miles east of Khartoum, Sudan
Dre cracked open the door to the darkened bedroom. A small lamp on the bedside table was on, and a veil covered the light, which cast a reddish glow over the room.
“Can I come in?” Dre said in a soft voice.
“Okay.”
The woman who answered sat at the head of the bed, her back against the wall, her knees drawn up to her chin and her arms wrapped tightly around her legs as if she was trying to make herself as small as possible. She had long dark hair plaited into a rough braid and wrapped around her neck like a comforter. Under other circumstances, Dre would have thought her very pretty.
But now, her large, dark eyes were red-rimmed and watery, and her round face was a blotchy mess.
Dre sat on the edge of the bed. “How are you feeling?”
The woman started to cry again. “I’m sorry,” she said between sobs. “I just can’t stop. I can’t believe they’re all dead.”
“It’s okay. I’m Andrea Ramirez. My friends call me Dre.”
“Lakshmi.” She took a deep breath and held it, then dragged her forearm across her eyes. “I will stop crying now. I promise.”
“If you’re feeling up to it, maybe you could tell me what happened?”
Lakshmi nodded and swallowed hard. “Last night, Talia called me to her room. She said when JP got back he was going to be very angry and she wanted me to be safe. She was so scared. I’ve never seen her that scared.”
She bit her lip. “I’ve known Talia for a long time—we were at undergrad together. She’s had a lot of tragedy in her life. Her parents were killed when she was very young and she’s always been a bit of a loner. We were really close, like sisters.” Lakshmi scooted closer to Dre and sought out her hand.
“Everyone went downstairs and when Talia came back up, she was alone.” Lakshmi let out a shaky breath. “When I asked her what was going on she got very upset. She asked me to make us both a cup of tea. The next thing I knew, I was waking up and there were men in bio suits with guns and—”
Lakshmi’s voice broke. Dre squeezed her hand. “I think we were here for that part.”
“I knew JP was a hard man,” Lakshmi said, “but I never thought he would…”
“It’s okay, Lakshmi. There was nothing you could do.”
Lakshmi closed her eyes. “That’s just it. I knew there was something wrong and I didn’t do anything. I was too afraid. I let my friends down.”
Dre felt the words like the ache of an old wound in her own chest. The feeling of helplessness. The feeling of knowing you should do something, wanting to take action with every muscle in your body—and still being frozen with fear.
“I know what you mean,” Dre said. “I had … I had something happen to me. My friend was hurt and I didn’t do anything to help her. I was too afraid.” Dre felt her own tears starting to well up. “I still think about it. I’m still ashamed, but I honestly couldn’t do anything. I don’t know why … and I hate myself for it.”
Lakshmi scooted across the bed and hugged Dre. “That’s exactly how I feel,” she said, her words muffled in Dre’s shoulder. “I was afraid to say anything. Now all my friends are dead.”
Dre wrapped her arms around the woman and let her weep. Her own pain felt sharp and raw, as if the scar tissue formed by time had been ripped away.
The racking sobs slowed, Lakshmi’s breathing evened, and she pulled her face away from Dre’s neck. The wet material on Dre’s shoulder chilled in the air-conditioning.
Lakshmi used the edge of her shirt to dry her eyes. “Thank you,” she said. “You made me feel a lot better. I want to do my part to help.”
Dre smiled, feeling a little buzz of pride at being able to help her.
“What exactly was going on here?” Dre asked.
“Project Deliverance,” Lakshmi said as if that explained everything. “Our mission is to rid the world of the worst possible bioweapons. We are—were—the Red Team.”
“Red Team?”
“There are two parts to Project Deliverance. We make the viruses and the Blue Team creates vaccines for them. You know, like in a war game.” Lakshmi’s eyes were starting to clear, and her face had a look of bright innocence.
“I want to make sure I have this right,” Dre said. “There are two parts to Project Deliverance? There’s another site? Do you know where the other site is?”
Lakshmi shook her head. “That would defeat the purpose of the war game if we knew anything about the other site. JP was the only person who knew where the other site was. As soon as we developed a new virus, he would deliver a sample to the Blue Team. The first two were variations on the Ebola virus, and the third was Pandora.”
“What is Pandora?”
Lakshmi brightened. “Pandora was the culmination of all the work we had done so far on Deliverance,” she said. “It was a true chimera virus: an Ebola strain combined with a paleo-flu virus to make it airborne and far more survivable. It’s magnificent.”
“Paleovirus?”
“That’s the best part,” Lakshmi said. “A paleovirus is something that comes from an ancient sample, like a mummy, for instance. JP found a dig site near the Arctic Circle and got us samples. The benefits of using a paleo variant is that it’s not in anyone’s database yet, they have to start from square one. And, modern humans don’t have immunity from such ancient pathogens.”
Dre fought back a feeling of nausea at the way Lakshmi reeled off deadly viruses like she was trading baseball cards.
“When you say ‘check out a sample,’” Dre said. “What does that mean exactly?”
“We deal with some of the worst viruses in the world here, Dre, so we have an elaborate inventory-control system,” Lakshmi said. “The only person allowed to check out samples is Dr. Lu.” She stopped, bit her lip. “I did it again. The only person allowed to check out a sample was Dr. Lu. He set up the sample-handling system and only he could access it.”
“And what happened to the samples?”
“We sent one to the Blue Team and kept the others here.” Lakshmi met Dre’s gaze and her expression grew thoughtful. “There was no Project Deliverance, was there? No Blue Team.”
Dre shook her head. “Those samples you mentioned. They were used in Yemen on innocent people.”
The other woman clenched her eyes shut. Her chin trembled with the effort of containing her emotions. “That’s why Talia was so afraid. JP was a monster.”
Dre licked her lips. “He used them … on small villages. Then destroyed the evidence.”
“Oh my God.” Lakshmi covered her face with her hands. “How could I have been so stupid? All of us—we wanted to believe him, so we did, and now…”
Dre put her arms around Lakshmi. The woman’s body quivered with suppressed emotion. “I’ll talk to the corpsman and get you something to help you sleep.”
“No.” Lakshmi sat up straight. “I want to help. The CDC will need someone who knows the systems, knows how this place works. That’s me.”
She scooted off the bed and stood. “I only want one thing.”
Dre got up. “What?”
“These people were my friends. When they cremate the bodies, I want to take their ashes home to their families. I owe them that much.”
CHAPTER 45
Camp Lemonnier, Djibouti, Africa
When she was in primary school, her parents would take Rachel and her brother to the local pool on weekends. Rachel was six, two years younger than her brother, and wanted nothing more than to be as grown-up as an eight-year-old.
And to be better than her brother at something. Anything.
She couldn’t remember whose idea it was to have a breath-holding contest. All she remembered was that this was going to be her moment, her chance to win.
The rules of the game were simple. Both children jumped into the pool on the count of three and swam to the bottom of the
deep end. There was a drain there with a grate they could hold on to so they didn’t float back to the surface too soon.
She jumped in and swam to the bottom, feeling the pressure on her ears eight feet below the surface. The other children were playing in the shallow end and she could dimly hear their splashing in the water. She and her brother, each with fingers hooked into the drain grate, stared at each other. As the seconds ticked by, her lungs began to hurt, her heart beat faster, but she would not let go.
Her brother’s eyes grew wider and he started to make frantic motions, but Rachel just held on tighter. Finally, he let go and pushed off the bottom. She watched him go up toward the sun. She had won! The sense of exultation that filled her little body made all the discomfort worthwhile. She tried to let go of the grate, but her fingers were stuck.
She pulled again, and a trickle of blood seeped out of the grate. Her lungs hurt, her vision went all sparkly. She opened her mouth to scream, and a big bubble of air—her air—floated away.
The next thing Rachel remembered was lying on the concrete pool deck, her face up to the sun, trying to breathe and coughing up water. There was a ring of people around her, and her mother’s face loomed over hers. Red, angry, crying, happy—all at the same time.
Rachel’s throat was raw, but she sat up and said, “I won.”
That same feeling of swimming into consciousness came to Rachel now. But instead of just a pain in her throat, she had pain everywhere. Her ribs, her head, her side …
She cracked open her eyes and immediately shut them again at the brightness of the room.
A hospital room. She was safe.
She heard heavy, labored breathing nearby, like a bull moose.
“Noam?” Her own voice was a croak like something out of a horror movie.
An enormous warm hand covered hers. “I’m here.”
Rachel took another ragged breath and forced her eyes open. The room was bright and airy, with a window that looked out onto desert brown.
“Where am I?”
“Camp Lemonnier, Djibouti. The American base. It’s a long story.”
Rachel studied her boss. His face was deeply lined and gray with lack of sleep.
“How long?”
“Three days.”
Three days.
“The lab,” Rachel said. “The people in the lab. Are they…” She let her voice trail off when she saw Noam shake his head.
“All dead. Some kind of virus.… Bad.”
Rachel had seen Noam absorb a lot of ugliness in his career at Mossad, but this event seemed to make a dent in his normally implacable exterior. She could only imagine what kind of impact it took to do that.
“The Americans secured the research lab?”
Instead of answering, Noam looked past her to the door. Rachel turned her head slowly to see a man in his forties, with reddish hair and a fair complexion.
“We did,” he said. “Don Riley, US intel. The research lab is secure. Dr. Tahir is on the run, but we’ll find her.”
Rachel tried to sit up, and her head exploded with pain. Noam put a hand on her shoulder. “You have a concussion, three broken ribs, and a barely functional windpipe. I think you need to stay where you are right now.”
Rachel closed her eyes until the room stopped spinning. “You need to find her. She is planning something, something big and very personal. She and JP were in on this thing together, but he tried to talk her out of it at the end.”
“JP?” Riley said.
“Jean-Pierre Manzul. Tahir … this is personal with her.”
Noam exchanged a look with Riley. “What else can you tell us?”
Rachel tried to recall the exact words. “She said it was time for them to pay, that she had waited her whole life for this moment, and Pandora was the answer. If Tahir got away, she’s not running from you, she’s running toward something. An attack.”
Her head throbbed. Rachel covered her eyes with her hand.
“I’ll let you rest, Rachel,” Riley said. She heard the door close behind him.
Noam held her hand. It seemed like her hand was the only part of her body that wasn’t in pain.
“You were close to Manzul,” Noam said.
JP’s face flashed in her mind. Then she imagined she felt the spray of his blood on her face and the weight of his body as she used his corpse as a shield.
“He was a target. An asset. I did my job. Now he’s dead.”
Noam held her hand as she drifted off to sleep.
CHAPTER 46
Camp Lemonnier, Djibouti, Africa
When Don got back to the TOC, the officers were watching the wall screen, where one of the CDC scientists was holding up a plastic bag. Inside two layers of plastic was a steel object about the size and shape of a soda can.
“We found this in the back of Lab One,” he said. “It’s the device used to disperse the virus.” He pointed the end at the camera, showing them a pinhole nozzle and a small black square of plastic that read “00” in red LED numbers.
“Basically, it’s an aerosolizer. It’s got a timer mechanism and a built-in propellant. When the timer goes off, it disperses the contents through this nozzle. It’s also insulated. If you put a cryogenic sample in here, it’ll stay viable for days, maybe weeks.”
“Did you determine what killed the people in the lab?” Don asked.
The CDC scientist nodded. “Ebola, without a doubt. It’s a particularly virulent strain and it looks like someone messed with it genetically. We’ll need to do more testing, but I know one thing: This was no accident.” He held the bagged aerosolizer close to the camera. “This was murder.”
The news settled on Don. They had all known this at some level, but the scientist’s words lent a finality to the room.
He studied the bagged object. “Is there any special handling for the aerosolizer once it’s loaded?” he asked.
The doctor shrugged. “Probably not. There are threads here, so I assume there’s a lid that goes on top to protect the nozzle. I guess if I was transporting it, I’d want a carrying case of some kind. Probably insulated if the original sample was frozen.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Don said. He indicated to Janet to kill the connection.
A carrying case …
Don’s mind raced. “Dre,” he said, “pull up the security footage of Dr. Tahir leaving the site.”
Within a few minutes, Dre had the grainy video on the wall screen. Don watched Tahir exit the elevator and hurry to a black SUV. As she opened the door, she turned her body.
“Stop,” Don said. He used a laser pointer to draw a circle around the doctor’s arm on the screen. “She’s carrying something.”
Dre zoomed in. The case was a small, padded cylinder with a strap like a carrier for a water bottle.
“What does that look like?” Don asked.
“I thought it was a purse,” Dre said, “but now … I’m thinking it could be a carrying case for one of these little devices.”
Don nodded. “That’s exactly what I was thinking. I visited our friend from Mossad in the infirmary. She was very clear that Tahir was on a mission, something big, something that involves Pandora.”
“But the Pandora sample is intact,” Janet said. “The CDC verified the inventory.”
“We’re missing something,” he said. “Dre, let’s look at the handling system again.”
Dre put the automated sample-handling system specs on the screen. “State-of-the-art, off-the-shelf storage system for cryogenic samples. According to Dr. Chandrasekaran, Dr. Lu handled all the samples himself. The system uses facial rec, or a passcode, or both. Because the site only had a few people, they turned off facial rec.”
She pulled up the logs from the system. “The last time the system was accessed was the day before the raid. Dr. Lu accessed two samples, Ebola and Pandora—”
“So, Dr. Lu checked out the sample that eventually killed him?” Janet said.
Dre studied the logs further. “According
to this, he accessed the Pandora sample but immediately put it back.”
Michael spoke up. “You said the system has facial rec?”
“Yeah,” Dre replied, “but it was turned off.”
“I know, but was the camera turned off? Usually the image collection and image verification are two different settings.”
Dre quickly found the program files and searched for the system database. “Michael, you are a flipping genius! The images are all there. The camera takes a picture as soon as the system is activated.…”
She found the image corresponding to the date-time group of the last day and pushed it to the wall screen.
It was Dr. Tahir.
“Get the CDC lead scientist back on the line,” Don said, his voice hoarse.
“Back so soon, Mr. Riley?” The scientist’s smile faded when he saw the look on Don’s face.
“Doctor, we need to verify something. When you did an inventory of the virus samples onsite, how did you do that?”
“We verified it was physically there and matched the bar code. Why?”
“Was there any test done to verify that the contents of the sample are what the bar code says they are?”
The scientist shook his head. “These are deadly viruses stored cryogenically. To do that, we’d need to thaw them and look at each one under a scanning electron microscope—”
“We need you to verify the Pandora sample. Immediately.”
“It will take a few hours, Mr. Riley.”
“Please, time is of the essence.”
Janet killed the wall-screen video. It reverted back to Dre’s screen, which still held the image of Dr. Talia Tahir. “What now?”
Don pinched his lip, staring at the doctor’s picture.
“Find out everything you can about her. Get the NSA on the horn and find the search history for the Mahdi’s computer. This isn’t over yet.”
CHAPTER 47
Camp Lemonnier, Djibouti, Africa
Everyone in the Situation Room at the White House stood when the president entered. Don and Janet, taking the call from the secure VTC in Camp Lemonnier, stood also. It seemed like the right thing to do.
