by Steve Hadden
“Well, the human body has over thirty-seven trillion cells and each cell contains copies of our DNA. That DNA is made up of four nucleotides, represented by only four letters: A, C, G and T. The sequence of those letters determines the DNA’s instructions to the cells about which proteins to make to control the critical functions in our bodies. Do you follow me?”
Neville could hear her pecking at a keyboard.
“Got it.”
“So the human genome has three point two billion letters in total, and what the CRISPR technique does is basically cut and paste a designated sequence to modify the human genome for whatever purpose the scientists decide.” Neville waited for the typing to subside.
“Go on.”
“But the process may not be perfect, and it can cut and paste at unintended locations, causing unintended mutations.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
“Right. And in some cases for humans, those changes could be passed on to offspring if the unintended changes impact germ cells that give rise to sperm and egg cells. People have wanted to use the process to treat disease, but they’ve also wanted to create designer babies that have favorable genetic traits, like looks, strength or intelligence.”
She stopped typing. “But how does that become a weapon of mass destruction?”
Neville wanted to cheer. She’d taken the bait. “That’s the frightening part. The process can potentially be spread by attaching it to a virus, called a vector, that might spread like the common cold or another virus and infect millions if not billions. That process could be used to create a weapon that could biohack the human body and introduce terrible suffering on an army or any group of people.”
“Are you saying that the public is in danger?”
“If the treatment escaped the sealed confines of the laboratory, yes.”
“We don’t know if it did or not, but the lab was destroyed.”
“I think you have your answer. And by the way, are you aware of Miss Covington’s past efforts?”
“I read about her effort to save her son from glioblastoma.”
“Then you also read that that biologic treatment killed two people in the trial.”
“I read that. But it was determined that everyone knew the risks and potential lethal side effects going in. After all, all of the patients in the clinical trial were already terminal.”
“You’re simply making my point. They didn’t fully understand how that biological agent affected other parts of the body. They were guessing, and it cost those people what little time they had left to live.”
“Did you know anyone in that trial?”
“No.”
“Do you know Dr. Covington?”
Neville’s anger nearly choked him. “I know of her, and she of me. We are not each other’s fans.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means she had no business launching this trial. And it means the White House, the FDA and Congress have all gotten this wrong.” Neville had said enough, and his emotions were becoming his enemy. “It also means I have no further comment.”
“Mr. Lewis. What about—”
Neville cut off the call and was startled by Charlotte’s reflection on the window.
“Who was that?” she asked.
Neville spun, his heart racing. “A reporter.”
For a split second, she examined his expression. Looking for a lie. At least she wasn’t aiming her smartphone at him to use the SZENSOR app. In the past, when they’d tested the app, he was able to beat it. After weeks of trial and error, he’d trained himself to defeat the technology seven out of ten times. But Charlotte’s work had improved the subsequent versions until he could do no better than the three-percent error rate of the general population.
As Charlotte eyed him, he felt as if he were on a high wire over a minefield. He concluded that for some reason, she didn’t trust him now. Not knowing that reason made him feel blindfolded on that wire. His next step could destroy him if he wasn’t careful.
Charlotte waited silently.
He remembered his technique. He’d only told one lie to Fuller. He hoped Charlotte hadn’t heard it. He realized that concern was the deception she was picking up in his expression. He flushed that line of thinking from his mind. “She was from the San Diego paper and wanted a comment on gene editing. I gave them an interview a few years ago when the debate was going on in Congress. She had my office line.”
Charlotte’s brows relaxed. “Were you able to give her our position?”
“Yes. They apparently were readying some treatment involving gene editing in humans.”
“No.” Charlotte covered her mouth.
Neville shook his head. “Said the government kept it quiet.”
“That’s terrible news for us.”
Her shock and disappointment registered deep in Neville’s gut. He immediately moved to assure her he had things under control. “It is. But I think the facts I gave her will scare the public straight.”
“If the lab exploded, whatever the treatment was could be released on the public.”
“I made that point quite clear.”
“You’ll have to let Ezekiel know.”
Neville had already planned to call the director of HPP, but he was chafed that she thought she needed to tell him to call. “He’s my next call.” Neville stood and walked around the desk to Charlotte and kissed her on the cheek. “You go back to bed. I’ll be up soon.”
Charlotte looked at Neville then her gaze drifted to the windows. The rain had stopped and the clouds had lifted, revealing a full moon whose light illuminated Mount Baker’s snowcap with a haunting glow. She returned her attention to Neville. “Good night, darling.” She turned and headed out of the office.
Charlotte’s concern had created a crack in his confidence. Neville eyed the mountain and tried to center himself. But his thoughts about one person prevented him from accessing his inner peace and regaining that confidence, acidic bile accumulating in his stomach instead. And her name was Kayla Covington.
CHAPTER 15
Kayla watched Harrison as the early dawn light entered through the small rectangular windows atop the corrugated-steel walls of the warehouse. He was wedged between the front door and the driver’s seat of the Charger as he slept. He still looked like the generous, gentle soul that had opened her heart. He’d been the man she’d always longed for. Thinking about how she’d ended it, a sinkhole of regret opened. Harrison had stood with her when no one else had, and his strength was undeniable. Somewhere hiding deep in her heart was the hope that somehow, she’d break through his pride. But she knew that their crippled relationship was entirely her fault. His gun sat within reach on the dash. After avoiding the police helicopter and rocketing from under the overpass, the tracks had led them through La Jolla to the southern part of Miramar and the large warehouse where they now sat parked among partially assembled boats. The sweet thick smell of fiberglass resin filled the car.
Last night, they’d awkwardly avoided any further argument over Kayla’s abrupt termination of their relationship. Kayla hoped Harrison’s actions belied his true feelings. She’d felt his stare as she tried to sleep while Harrison had stood guard until 4 a.m. Kayla had taken the second shift and watched for any sign of the assassins. They’d finally agreed neither of them had any idea who the killers were, but Kayla still wasn’t certain that Harrison believed she was innocent. Although she was wanted by the FBI, Kayla had decided it didn’t make sense that the US government was behind it. They already had access to the data and the treatment anytime they wanted. They were both sure the mercenaries were searching for them and had demonstrated intelligence resources superior to that of the authorities. The mercs had found Harrison’s connection to Kayla just minutes after the attack at the lab.
Kayla eyed the gun. Harrison’s instructions were precise: grab the gun and wake him if a whiff of threat appeared. After only two hours of sleep, Kayla was as rested as she normally was afte
r a full night, and her skin was smoother and tighter, her joints supple again. She’d gotten used to her aging body and forgotten what it felt like to wake without small aches and stiffness, but she remembered now. CRISPR was still hard at work in her body.
It was just after six and Kayla was startled by the sound of the large door rolling up at the far end of the building. She grabbed the gun and reached over and gently touched Harrison’s arm. He lunged forward and grabbed the gun from her hand before spotting the door. His shoulders dropped and he slid the gun back onto the dash.
“Sergio’s here.”
Last night Harrison had explained that Sergio Martinez had served with him in Iraq and had offered access to the building anytime he needed it. Harrison simply said they were as close as brothers. The stepson of a successful boat dealer, Sergio had taken Donnelly Marine into the big leagues after leaving active duty. Harrison had called him from the office after using the entry code Sergio had provided. He was certain that the authorities wouldn’t make the connection quickly and wouldn’t be tapping the phone line. Their brief conversation led to the plan Kayla, Harrison and Sergio had developed on the fly.
The door rolled open and a Ford Raptor pickup rolled in. Once the door closed, Harrison grabbed the gun. “Let’s go.”
Kayla exited the car and walked with Harrison toward the truck. The driver’s door opened, and a thick barrel-chested Latino American stepped down and repositioned his sunglasses to the top of his head. His smile electrified the area. As he moved away from the door to greet them, Kayla noticed the prosthetic leg. Harrison rushed his last steps and embraced the man.
“Great to see you, brother,” Sergio said.
Harrison held the embrace an extra second then pulled back. “Sorry about this mess, Serge.”
Kayla immediately felt the familiar swell of guilt. She’d brought this mess to Harrison’s door.
Sergio waved off the apology and focused his beaming smile on Kayla. He reached out and offered his hand. “Serge Martinez. So nice to finally meet you. This dude used to talk about you all the time.” Sergio seemed to catch himself and his grin turned serious. “But no names. He never gave you up.”
Kayla glanced at Harrison, measuring his reaction. Harrison shook his head and a glint of displeasure with Sergio’s comment crossed his face. She wondered if it was a cover-up or a harbinger of how he truly felt. She looked back at Sergio. “Kayla. Nice to meet you.”
Sergio’s grin returned. He walked to the back of the truck. “Okay. Here we go.” He opened the bed cover and pulled out two black duffels. “Two Go Bags. Sorry about the sizes, Kayla. Best I could do.” He handed them the bags.
“I’m sure it’s fine,” she said.
“Thanks, man,” Harrison said as he unzipped the bag and looked inside.
“Two Glocks, ammo, several burner phones and all the cash I could muster.”
Harrison chuckled. “You ready for an invasion?”
“Lucky for you, bro.” Sergio walked quickly around the truck, waving them along. “We’ll use this one,” he said, stopping at a large trailered inboard. He patted the stern. “This Sea Ray is your chariot.” He climbed onto the trailer and into the boat. Kayla noticed how nimble he was despite the prosthesis.
He offered his hand to Kayla. She grabbed it and climbed aboard. Harrison followed.
“You’ll have to get down here,” he said. He pulled up the carpet and opened the door in the floor to a deep storage compartment. “You’ll both fit.”
Kayla leaned down and examined the space. It was clean and ran most of the length of the boat. “They won’t look in here?”
“I’ll cover the boat. If we hit a roadblock, they might open the cover and look in. Maybe even look in the head. I’ll make sure that’s all they do. But when I came in there were no roadblocks. Rush hour may have taken care of that.” Sergio opened his arms.
Harrison tossed Sergio his duffel. He unzipped it and pulled out the handgun and a magazine and handed them back to Harrison. “In case that merc shows up.” Sergio dropped it into the compartment. Kayla pulled the gun from her bag and handed the duffel to him.
“You know how to handle that?”
“She does,” Harrison said.
“Harrison’s a great instructor.” She shoved the gun into her waistband.
Sergio dropped her duffel into the storage compartment and shoved both bags toward the bow. “Should be less than thirty minutes. Sorry about the cramped quarters, but I’m guessing you two have been closer before.” He held the door open and Harrison stepped in and carefully scrunched into the space.
Kayla looked at Harrison lying on his side in the well. For a second, their eyes locked. They hadn’t been that close since the night before she left. He’d made it clear he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. She wanted to say everything she’d failed to. She climbed down and wriggled in with her back against him. He wrapped his arm around her waist.
“You two behave now,” Sergio said, grinning down at them. He closed the door to the compartment. It was pitch black. She felt the boat rock as Sergio stepped off. In the darkness, she heard Harrison’s breathing, his warm breath against her neck. For a moment, she was back in bed with him at the small inn overlooking the marina on Bainbridge Island where they’d spent countless weekends. But a lingering uncertainty grew with every second of silence. His contact grew cold, distant and obligatory. Harrison was different and so was she. She wondered if any of this would ever have happened if she’d stayed. The dark, undeniable fact that the remaining hours of her life were racing away made her realize she couldn’t leave the words buried beneath her pride unsaid.
“I’m sorry, Harrison,” she said softly in the darkness.
He remained quiet for longer than she’d anticipated, and her hope melted into disappointment. Then he said, “I’m not.”
CHAPTER 16
Kayla tracked the time on her Fitbit as they rocked along in the darkness. The fiberglass floor felt harder with each minute, and the air in the compartment grew heavy. Harrison was silent and her thoughts were filled with the possibility of their death at the hands of the mercenaries who’d killed her team. Each time Sergio stopped, she imagined bullets ripping through the thin fiberglass hull, ending their lives.
Harrison broke the silence. “Do you think she’ll do it?” he asked, referring to the plan they’d discussed last night.
“She’s my only chance.”
“When’s the last time you talked to her?”
“That night.” Kayla didn’t need to be more specific. She and Harrison had talked about the night her son died repeatedly once he’d broken through her defenses a year into their relationship.
Harrison shifted his weight and the distance between them increased. “You still haven’t spoken with her?”
“No. But I’ve been sending her notes every week. Telling her what we did and how we did it. I also sent drives with the code. I thought it would help her. You know, in her lab.”
“But she never replied?”
“No. I hope she’s at least kept them.” Kayla imagined Harrison rolling his eyes and shaking his head and thinking there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that this would work.
“How long do you have?” Harrison asked the question he hadn’t last night when they’d discussed RGR. Kayla was sure he was gathering information to calculate the odds of Kayla’s survival, and maybe his, too.
“I’m not sure. I can feel it working. I’ll get stronger first. But after five days or so we’re in no-man’s-land. We were worried that any longer than that and the transdifferentiation the process triggers along with the normal mutations that happen every day might introduce too many variants. The risk of chromothripsis increases with time.” Verbalizing the thought of her chromosomes shattering amped up her adrenaline, sending a quiver through her body.
Harrison didn’t respond. The gravity of Kayla’s situation was apparently sinking in.
“If they stop us, we have to
give up,” he said.
Kayla understood. “I won’t make you fight.” She wouldn’t put Harrison in a position to kill a federal agent or a cop. But surrendering would be a death sentence for her. The treatment would end her life in five days or so. She needed the second injection that stopped the process before then. Surrendering to the FBI then trying while in custody to explain what happened would use up all her time. Besides, she wasn’t sure the FBI could be trusted.
She forced herself to breathe through the fear, but all it did was remind her of when she’d started the practice at the behest of her therapist. She remembered the session where the revelation came that every bad decision she’d made was rooted in an inner axiom that she was never good enough. It was the reason she’d left Harrison when all he’d done was love her. She’d promised she’d never make that mistake again.
Twenty-five minutes had passed when the boat shifted in a series of turns and stops, then slowed. Kayla guessed Sergio was approaching the marina entrance. She heard the voices through the hull.
“Stop right here, sir.”
“Good morning, officer. What’s going on?”
“We’re conducting checkpoints after that mess in La Jolla last night. Would you mind if we looked under the cover?”
“Not at all, if you’ll help me get it snapped back up when you’re done.”
Kayla heard a dog bark. If this was a K9 search they were finished. Harrison tightened his arm around her waist. She wasn’t sure if she heard a dog sniffing or shuffling feet.
“We can just unsnap back here,” the officer said. The voice was close, and Kayla heard the snaps of the cover pop off. One by one, she pictured the snaps releasing and revealing more and more of the cabin. The boat rocked and she heard heavy footsteps just above them.
“What’s this?” the officer asked.
“The head.”
“Would you mind opening that?”
“Not at all.”
A footstep stopped on the door directly above her and it squeaked just inches from her head. Kayla held her breath. The cover to the head creaked as Sergio opened it.
