The Dark Side of Angels

by Steve Hadden

  “I thought you wanted to talk about the technology?”

  “I do. I’m also interested in your background and overlap with Ms. Covington.”

  There was silence at the other end. Professor Norris was weighing her options. “Look. I overlapped with Kayla a little bit, maybe a year. She was professional and a brilliant molecular biologist. I can’t believe she’s involved in those killings.”

  “Thanks for that. What can you tell me about the CRISPR technology? I’ve heard that it can make unintended changes to human DNA?”

  “You’ve been talking to Neville Lewis.” Norris’s tone had shifted to cold and derogatory.

  A current of excitement rippled across Sienna’s forearms and Norris’s change piqued her interest. “How did you know?”

  “Neville and his Human Preservation Project and I have tangled before. They give one-sided advocacy to stop any genetic modification of the human genome. Their data is antiquated. Genetic modification is here to stay. The technology has advanced to where we can modify specific sections of the genome in vivo, at multiple locations, at the same time with near perfect accuracy.”

  “In vivo?”

  “Yes. Within the human body. Previously we had to remove cells, make the modifications, then reintroduce the cells back into the patient. With the new system developed by Ms. Covington, we can safely go the more direct route.”

  “No unintended mutations?”

  “Not with the advanced technology we’re using. CRISPR is the most remarkable breakthrough the world has ever seen. It’s being used widely in laboratories around the world. It’s relatively inexpensive, very effective and customizable. Molecular biologists can now identify and modify any gene in any living organism, including those in humans. And we’re just a few steps away from being able to make gene edits that enable the human immune system to destroy many cancers.”

  Sienna wanted to shift the attention back to Covington to hear Norris’s reaction. “What about the work that Professor Covington was doing?”

  “Like I said, she’s published her work about in vivo treatments in primates and she intends to extend that to humans, but I don’t know what she was working on in La Jolla.”

  “I’ve uncovered the possibility that she was ready to start the first human trials for a gene-editing treatment.”

  “To what end?”

  “I don’t know. I thought you might have an idea.”

  “I’m sorry. I can’t comment on something I don’t know about.”

  Sienna glance at the clock on the wall. It was 11:30 a.m.

  “Anything else you’d like me to know?”

  Professor Norris breathed deeply. “We are entering what some call the Anthropocene Epoch—the Human Epoch. This technology will transform the human race. Humans will be able to control their own evolution and our biosphere, I believe for the betterment of us all. We’ll eliminate many diseases. It will allow us to adjust to any changes in our environment, and we’ll be able to modify that environment for a longer, better future. We hope you include a balanced, fact-based view of the technology in your article. Anything else we can do to provide you with those facts we’d be happy to do.”

  “Thank you, professor.”

  Sienna was about to hang up, but Norris continued. “I see that you’re very popular on Twitter. You have a growing audience. You’ll shape the public’s opinion with that kind of following. That’s a big responsibility.” Norris paused, probably for effect. “Have a good day and good luck with your article. Take care.”

  Sienna ended the call and immediately checked her Twitter feed. She’d gone from fifteen thousand followers to 1.6 million and growing. The number surprised her for a moment. Then a confidence solidified in her core like an immovable concrete column. Her drive to get the story right and get to the truth built like a swelling tide.

  She grabbed her keyboard and synthesized Professor Norris’s words into clear prose, each word weighted with clarity and impact. As she finished, an e-mail notification popped up on the screen. She received thousands, but something about this caught her eye. The notification was from someone using the handle “TOC.” The comment was short.

  17EEB

  She had no idea what it meant, but an alert went off in her gut. Her phone startled her when it rang again. She eyed the screen. Private Caller. In her short career she’d already learned that those were the most valuable calls of all.

  CHAPTER 22

  Reed gazed out his office window at the traffic streaming along the 805 freeway and waited for Sienna Fuller to pick up. Covington could be in any one of those cars, and riding along with her was his career.

  He glanced at the onyx bracelet on his wrist and released a meditative breath. It was a cue the therapist said to use when those demons returned and dangled him over that bottomless pit of uncertainty. The black onyx represented strength and confidence and was a reminder that the sticky sick feeling welling up in his gut was not real. It was a remnant of the false guilt he’d adopted when his men were killed. It was a byproduct of his mind’s effort to gain control of the past.

  The warmth of the hot coffee in the Styrofoam cup in his hand pulled his attention back to the present. He inhaled the aroma and took a sip. Better.

  He’d only have one chance to persuade Fuller. He’d be asking her to publish Covington’s picture and ask the public to contact the FBI if they saw her. But this was a delicate balance. The FBI and the press always had a natural tension, and that tension was good. He had little to trade, and that would make this negotiation more difficult. But his wealth of experience persuading sources to do the right thing was on his side.

  She finally answered. “Fuller.”

  “Ms. Fuller, this is Special Agent in Charge Reed.”

  “Agent Reed.”

  She was cold and probably on deadline. While she’d sounded unimpressed, he ignored his impulse to scold her again. He needed to get right to the point. “I need your help.”

  “Do you have Kayla Covington yet?”

  “No. But that’s what I’m calling about. I’d like to see if you would consider adding Covington’s picture and a request for your readers and followers to contact the FBI if they see her.”

  There was no immediate response. Just the sound of her pecking away at her keyboard.

  “Ms. Fuller.”

  “Yes. I’m here. I’m not sure why I’d do that.”

  “To catch a suspect, shut down a national security threat, and protect millions of people?”

  “My job is to find and report the truth. Can you help me with that?”

  Her moral naivety aggravated Reed, his pulse quickening. Still, he looked at his bracelet and stayed calm. “With what?”

  “For instance, the truth about what she was working on? Can you confirm she was still conducting secret human trials?”

  Reed sorted through his options. He had none. “Off the record?”

  “No. I need it on the record.”

  The image of Ashley Reynolds’s body flashed in Reed’s mind. “From an unnamed source?”

  “I can live with that. You have my word.”

  It was a fair trade. “Yes. She was working on the first human trial for gene editing.”

  “Thanks for that. What was the goal of the treatment?”

  “No. That’s all I’m going to say.”

  “Well then maybe you can tell me why a special agent in charge is so intimately involved in this case. You have hundreds of agents that can handle this. It’s like a CEO working on the factory floor.”

  Reed waited. Revealing that reason affected the Reynolds family, and they didn’t need the attention.

  “Special Agent Reed?”

  A soft knock on his office door interrupted his thoughts. “Hang on, Ms. Fuller.” Reed muted the call.

  Special Agent Connelly stuck his head into the office. “Just found Covington’s old secretary dead. Looks like she was tortured. Injected with something. Witness at the scene says it lo
oks like the same woman as at Clarke’s.”

  “Covington?”

  Connelly nodded.

  Reed unmuted the call. “Ms. Fuller?”

  The typing stopped. “Yes. I’m here.”

  “I just received a report that Covington’s old secretary was just found dead. Witness described someone who looked like Covington.” Reed stood to dissipate the fury vibrating in his body. “That’s an exclusive on the record. Will you send out Covington’s picture and our request?”

  Reed waited for the reporter’s reply. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was desperate. With one click of her mouse, she could add more than a million pairs of eyes to his search for Covington. Each second of silence seemed like an hour.

  Then Fuller said, “I’ll do it.”

  CHAPTER 23

  Kayla followed Harrison and Sergio to the Sea Ray cabin cruiser trailered on the right side of the shop. With each step, the emotional pressure inside her body built with a mix of uncertainty, excitement, and anticipation. She didn’t trust her read on Harrison’s mindset, and now they’d be alone, in close quarters, for hours. The Sea Ray reminded her of the trip she’d taken to the San Juan Islands with Harrison two months after they’d been together. They’d talked for three days, and stitch by stitch, he’d mended her broken heart.

  Sergio climbed on board and unsnapped the beige canvass cockpit cover, rolling it back to reveal the door to the cabin below. They’d spent the last three hours going over their plan, which they thought would give her the best chance of getting north, to the Seattle area and still avoid the expanding manhunt for her. Their plan was simple: get to Emily and see if she would help. But they’d all agreed they were exhausted and needed rest now before the grueling trip.

  Sergio slid open the hatch that led to the cabin below. “You won’t be bothered down here. The guys will start showing up in less than four hours, and I’ll put this cover back on. This boat is one of mine. No one will know you’re here or touch the boat. I’ve plugged the boat into the shore power, so you should be good. Just turn everything off when you turn in and don’t come out until noon.”

  Kayla checked her watch. It was just after 8 a.m. She climbed aboard with Harrison behind her. “Will you get some sleep?” she asked Sergio.

  “I’ll get a few hours on the cot in the back after I finish with the arrangements. I need to be here when the guys arrive,” Sergio said.

  Kayla stopped at the hatch and looked down the stairs, then glanced back at Harrison. A current surged through her when she thought she saw the memory of the San Juan trip in his eyes. Part of her didn’t want to read too much into it, but only to protect the part of her that wanted it to be true.

  “The light switch is on the left in the middle of the galley, just below the cabinets,” Sergio said. He nodded and smiled at Kayla. “Sleep tight.”

  Kayla descended the stairs, turned on the lights, and watched Harrison come down. The cabin was luxurious, with a galley along the left side, finished in shiny teak and a Corian countertop. There was a glistening bathroom toward the stern. A long ivory sofa ran most of the length of the right side. Kayla looked to the bow and her mouth went dry when she saw the bed taking up the remaining space. She turned back to Harrison. Here they were, forced together after she tore them apart. He looked at her expectantly, as if awaiting the words she couldn’t find. Succumbing to the pressure, she decided they’d have to deal with the wall of hurt, ego, and pride between them.

  She reached out and took his hand. It seemed to surprise him, but the physical contact made this easier for her. “I want to apologize for the way I ended things. You didn’t deserve it. It was selfish of me.” She hoped he could see the woman she was now, instead of the insecure mess she was back then.

  Harrison silently stared at Kayla, his face finally relaxing as he looked down at their intertwined hands. As the silence grew, Kayla’s pounding heart beat harder. But then he squeezed her hand and held it tight. He looked up, his gaze locking with hers.

  “Your leaving with no reason devastated me. I thought what we had was unique—special.” He pulled her hand up and held it tight against his chest. “But it’s time to let that go.” He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it and her legs went weak. “I accept your apology. Let’s just go from there.” He let go of her hand and started getting ready to lie down.

  Relief flooded through Kayla, her muscles relaxing. It wasn’t her fantasy, but it wasn’t the end. Maybe it was a beginning—even if she only had four days left to rekindle the love of her life, while someone was trying to kill her. She pushed a tear back into the corner of her eye.

  “Thank you for that.”

  CHAPTER 24

  Kayla sat next to Harrison in the shop’s office, which was tucked into the corner of the corrugated-steel building. After last night, the static between them had disappeared and a familiar comfort grew. Daylight faded as clouds rolled in and the skylights in the shop dimmed. Kayla and Harrison had spent most of the morning sleeping inside the cabin cruiser tucked just inside the front door. The sleep was good and it kept them hidden from Sergio’s employees. The craftsmen only worked a half day on Friday and they’d left by noon. Kayla was surprised she’d slept at all after their conversation, especially lying so close to him on the narrow bed. When she awoke, the morning stiffness she’d had for the last five years never showed. She was refreshed and focused, probably the result of the injection. The same one that would kill her in four and a half days.

  Kayla checked story after story on Facebook and Twitter on Sergio’s iPad while eyeing the security monitors mounted above the desk. The monitors covered all four sides of the building and both doors into the building. Sergio was on the dock readying the boat for their trip north as the winds announced the arrival of a new winter storm. The small TV tucked in between maintenance binders on the shelf above the desk softly broadcasted the end of the six o’clock news. At the mention of her name, Kayla looked up and watched the actor-turned-anchor on the screen. She ignored the wind rattling the metal roof and focused on his words.

  “As we mentioned at the top of this broadcast, The San Diego Union-Tribune is reporting that Kayla Covington, the molecular biologist who three years ago claimed she would save the human race, is now wanted for the murder of Sharon Hudson, her former secretary. Hudson was found dead from an apparent injection with a rare neurotoxin. Covington, once called the most dangerous woman on Earth by The Washington Post and The New York Times, escaped authorities when she allegedly coordinated an attack on her own lab, killing fourteen people. The FBI is asking anyone who has seen Covington or has any information on her whereabouts to contact them immediately at the number on the screen.”

  Trembling, her heart immediately went into tachycardia. She laid the iPad on the desk and looked at Harrison. “They’ve killed Sharon.”

  He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her in close. “I’m so sorry. She was such a kind person. But you didn’t do this.”

  For a moment it felt good, but then she couldn’t breathe and pulled away. “No. I’m okay. But they killed my secretary because of me.”

  Harrison folded his arms and spoke more deliberately this time. “It’s not your fault.”

  “It is. She was one of the nicest people I’ve known. And she has two sons and six grandchildren. And they killed her.” Her words caught in her tightening throat and she forced herself to breathe.

  “I’m so sorry. I know you two were close,” Harrison said.

  As Kayla imagined the killing, a growing anger acidified her sadness in her gut. Harrison eyed her while her face warmed and she gave in to her rage. “What kind of animals would do that?” she yelled.

  “I think it’s those two at my townhome. I’ll see if there’s more online.” Harrison picked up the iPad and continued to scan the various newsfeeds. He was focused on solving Kayla’s problem, not helping her work through her feelings. She didn’t blame him. It was a shortcoming they shared.

  Kayl
a remembered their attackers. The woman’s eyes had devoured everything in the room. She’d never experienced a lethal look like that. Earlier in the day, she and Harrison had concluded that they weren’t the FBI; at least they didn’t think so. They were the ones who’d murdered her team. They were well-equipped and informed. Maybe as much as the FBI. Maybe just like the FBI.

  The first step of Kayla’s plan was simple. Survive. That meant putting as much distance between them and that killer as quickly as possible. Once safe, she needed to re-create the treatment that would save her life. And the best way to do that was to get north and do something she hadn’t been able to do for the past ten years: convince her daughter to help her. Then she’d find whoever was behind the killings. Track them down and get RGR back. In the wrong hands, RGR could cause irreversible suffering and perhaps permanently stop the use of gene editing in humans. Her life’s work, and all the sacrifices she’d made along the way, would be for nothing.

  As they waited for darkness, the winter storm continued to roll in. According to her weather app, the storm was predicted to bring heavy wind and rain to Southern California for the next two days. The winds had just arrived. They would get worse overnight. A small-craft warning had been issued with northwest winds at twenty to thirty-five knots gusting to forty-five. Seas were predicted to be nine to ten feet and worsening. Sergio had warned them that the forty-five-foot Sea Ray moored just outside would be dangerous, but finally they’d all agreed they had no other option. Surrendering to the FBI was a death sentence for Kayla. If they didn’t kill her when she surrendered, they’d treat her as a domestic terrorist. Then any chance of getting into a lab and re-creating the antidote in less than four days was gone. She’d be dead before she could convince them what had happened. And those assassins still lurked out there somewhere. She decided being pinned down in a jail cell was just baiting a trap.