The Dark Side of Angels

by Steve Hadden

  Harrison looked up from the iPad as if enlightened. “Here’s the reporter that everyone is quoting. I’m not sure, but I think she has some doubts about your guilt.” He offered the device to Kayla.

  Under the San Diego Union-Tribune banner, the headline caught her eye immediately. Human gene editing becomes a deadly reality.

  The article covered the killings and her secretary’s murder, but it also described how an unnamed source confirmed that Kayla and her team had been scheduled to conduct the first human trial for gene editing using the CRISPR technology. As Kayla read deeper into the piece, she realized the reporter was getting the science and her motivations right. It was balanced and not condemning. She included both sides of the argument on gene editing and changing the human germline. Neville Lewis from the Human Preservation Project was quoted, but so was another molecular biologist from UCSD who made the same case for proceeding with the trial that Kayla had made to the FDA three years ago. The reporter had also talked to Kayla’s past coworkers, who said Kayla was helpful when asked. Even Kayla’s work with STEM for Girls was mentioned.

  “Do you know Virginia Norris?” she asked.

  Harrison leaned back and crossed his arms. “I do. Vice chair of biology and a great researcher. Big-time credibility.”

  Despite the call at the end of the article for anyone with information on Kayla’s whereabouts to call the FBI, Kayla felt the leaden grip of being hunted loosen a bit, buoyed by a sliver of hope. The reporter appeared to be seeking the truth. She scrolled to the bottom of the article and saw the photo and byline. Sienna Fuller. She clicked on the Twitter feed. The reporter looked young, but she had over a million followers.

  She looked up from the iPad. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  Harrison nodded.

  A rattling doorknob behind Kayla startled her. She turned and eyed the white steel door leading to the outside from the back of the office. She held her breath and listened as she and Harrison quietly reached for their guns. She watched the knob slowly rotate and heard the wind rushing in from the darkness through the opening door. The killer’s deadly look flashed in Kayla’s mind again, and with her eyes locked on the doorway, she parted her lips, silently easing out a breath, and readied to fire.

  Sergio stepped in and struggled against the wind to close the door. Kayla deflated like a popped balloon. He scuffed his feet on the mat and looked up at Kayla and Harrison. “What?” He waited for their reply, but when none came he said, “She’s ready to go.”

  CHAPTER 25

  Sitting in the shop’s small office, Kayla couldn’t take much more. The waiting was the worst part. It ate away at her patience, and her nerves were raw. Thanks to RGR, every one of her cells vibrated with newfound energy, heightening each of her senses. Nightfall had come and the street traffic had almost disappeared. The marina was quiet. In a storm like this, people stayed home and boats stayed moored. It was 8:50 p.m. They’d agreed they’d go at nine.

  Kayla heard the sound first. A thud, like striking a pillow with a sledgehammer. It came from the two-story office complex attached to the front of the shop. She grabbed the remote and muted the television. She glanced at Harrison, then Sergio.

  “Did you hear that?”

  Both men leaned forward and grabbed the guns on the desk.

  Kayla slowed her breathing and grabbed the Glock Harrison had nudged across the desk. The storm rattled the metal building and provided a continuous track of white noise. Kayla strained to listen.

  Sergio stood and pressed his ear against the wall shared by the shop and the office complex. He pointed through the shop office window toward the door connecting the shop to the sales and design offices. Earlier he’d chained the door handle to the riser pipe for the fire system because it opened from the inside. Pulling away from the wall, he covered his lips with his index finger, then pointed to Kayla and Harrison and then out the door. Kayla nodded. Acknowledging Sergio’s silent message sent a pulse of ice through her veins.

  The boat was loaded and ready. The quickest route there was out the shop office door, across the long shop floor and out the emergency exit next to the massive sliding door used to move boats and equipment in and out. The lights from the small office were barely enough to illuminate the route. Kayla could see the shadows of the boats and equipment spread across the area. She led Harrison out of the office, never taking her eyes from the sales and design office door. It was halfway down the shop wall on the right. If someone rushed through now, they’d cut off Kayla’s escape. As she passed the door, the shop went dark. Lights, TV and security monitors all disappeared into darkness. Kayla froze midstep as her eyesight adjusted.

  In front of her, she heard a metal-on-metal pounding, like someone was driving a spike through metal. She dug her phone from her back pocket and turned on the flashlight. She spotted the large sliding shop door. She glanced back at Harrison, who was walking backward with his gun drawn, splitting his attention between Kayla and the chained door.

  “Go. Go!” he said.

  She ran to the sliding door, pulled the release and yanked on the handle. The door wouldn’t budge. Harrison tried the single emergency exit door to the right, with no success. Kayla turned her phone toward Sergio, who was still between them and the chained office door. He stopped, squared himself and targeted the door in the darkness. The door and chain exploded into fragments and Sergio fired. Based on the muzzle flashes coming from the doorway, at least two people returned fire. Kayla and Harrison dove for the cover of the nearest boat and lost sight of Sergio. The firing stopped and the silence engulfed the blackness. Seeing they were trapped, Kayla forged the primal urge to run trembling in her body into a laser focus on stopping the assassins.

  “Serge!” Harrison yelled.

  “I’m good,” the reply came from the other side of the boat and Sergio slid in next to them.

  “Three of them. Machine guns,” Sergio said as he dropped a magazine and shoved another into his gun. “This way.”

  Scanning the area behind them through the sight on her gun, Kayla followed Harrison and Sergio away from the attackers and to the back of the shop. As they worked their way around three other new boats, she thought she heard feet shuffling behind them and fired three shots in the direction of the noise. Finally, they reached the machine shop on the back wall. The heavy lathe and table saw provided the only solid cover. The attackers opened fire again, but Kayla noticed the bullets hit high on the back wall.

  Then she realized they weren’t trying to kill them. They were driving them into a corner. Huddled behind the large lathe, she heard what sounded like a large metal drum hitting the floor, then liquid sloshing out in the middle of the shop. The sweet aromatic scent of resin filled her nose.

  “Poly resin,” Sergio said. “We have to stop them before they ignite it.”

  “I’ll take the right flank,” Harrison said. “Kayla, you have the center.”

  “No,” Kayla said. “I won’t let you two die for me.”

  Kayla’s strength surged with her adrenaline. She guessed RGR made certain of that. And this wasn’t Harrison’s or Sergio’s fight. It was hers. If she could draw them away, Harrison and Sergio would have a chance. She took one last look at Harrison, then unleashed every ounce of the primitive kill-or-be-killed instinct boiling inside her. She stood and charged into the darkness, firing in the direction of the killers.

  CHAPTER 26

  The flash blinded Kayla and the blast knocked her to the ground. Her ears rang and a wave of intense heat swept over her. Stunned, she rolled over and pressed herself up, blind and barely able to hear. Someone yanked her by the arm. “This way!” It was Harrison.

  Her vision returned and she realized they were pinned against the back wall by fire that engulfed the shop. Sergio was between them and the fire, ready to shoot anything that moved. With no escape they had little choice.

  “That was stupid,” Harrison said.

  “It’s not your fight.”


  “Let me make that decision.”

  Kayla was suddenly drenched by the sprinkler system and the fire alarm echoed through the building. But the deluge abruptly stopped. The alarm meant they only had minutes before the fire department and police arrived and that would be the end for her. She couldn’t be caught. She wouldn’t be caught. She scanned the area and spotted the large circular saw.

  She looked at Harrison. “Harrison. The saw.” She pointed to the corrugated aluminum wall. More shots rang out and she looked back to see Sergio engaging the assassins. They were trying to kill him.

  Shots sparked off the lathe and the large forklift. She scrambled on her hands and knees to join Sergio. The attackers were silhouetted against the firelight. She waited for Sergio to pause and then fired five shots, glancing back at Harrison, who was cutting the wall with the saw—slowly. Kayla didn’t think the attackers could hear the saw above the storm, the fire and the gunfire.

  “Cover me,” she said to Sergio. He sent another half dozen rounds in their direction and Kayla jumped into the forklift. She started it and yelled, “Get in!”

  Sergio jumped in as two shots ricocheted off the thick cage covering them. Kayla saw the gas cylinder behind her and hoped that wouldn’t be their target. She floored the forklift and raced for the spot where Harrison stood with the saw. They picked up speed and Harrison dove to the side. Kayla covered her head with her arms, and the impact threw her into the front of the cage. When she regained her senses, they were outside in driving rain. She was a little disoriented at first, with blood and rain blurring her vision. But the cold and rain quickly cleared her mind. Harrison reached in and pulled Sergio to his feet and looped Sergio’s arm over his shoulder.

  “Straight. Straight,” Sergio said, pointing to the dock.

  Kayla heard the sirens in the distance and ran behind Harrison and Sergio, keeping the hole in the building aligned with the sight of her handgun. They were at the Sea Ray in seconds, when the smoking building exploded in a fireball. Kayla was certain no one would survive that. At least she hoped not. As Harrison started the boat, she untied the bow and stern lines and jumped in. The waves pounded the stern as Harrison backed out of the berth. She held on to the back of the seat as the Sea Ray turned and crashed against the waves in the bay. She wondered if they’d make it through the monsters ahead of them in the open ocean.

  CHAPTER 27

  Sienna stared at the words on the monitor and knew she had to do it. There was a fine line between reporting the story and becoming part of it. The line between the FBI and the media was thinner. The media held companies, government agencies and presidents accountable. The foundation of that force was built fact by fact by a long line of dedicated journalists focused on one thing: truth.

  Finding the truth took many forms. But Sienna’s mother had always said if you wanted to know the truth about someone, you ignored their words and focused on their actions. Past behavior was a predictor of future performance for most humans. The exceptions to that rule were usually struck by an upheaval, an event that ripped apart their lives as they knew them. Sienna now knew this was the second such event for Kayla Covington.

  Sienna looked over the top of her stand-up desk at the rain moving up the windows of the Union-Tribune office. She prayed that the power stayed on long enough for this piece to hit the wire. The stale smell of her Chipotle burrito bowl lingered within the two low partitions surrounding her desk. She spied the bowl sitting atop a stack of messages. For the last nine hours she’d done nothing except research on Kayla Covington. She’d even ignored six texts and four calls from Clint. By now he’d returned from the airport with his parents and was sitting at Dominick’s in the Gaslamp Quarter wondering what had happened to his girlfriend. But the last story had garnered national attention again and swelled her following by another twenty percent. The follow-up, a deep dive on Kayla Covington’s life, was the next logical step. It would reveal the person and her motivations. And shed doubt on the FBI’s conclusions.

  Covington had been exceptional from the start. The daughter of a legendary software engineer, Wallace McIntyre, and a high school math teacher, she’d been an athlete and the valedictorian of her class at Issaquah High School in Washington state. She’d been an all-state soccer player and cross-country runner. Sienna suspected it was the suicide of Kayla’s mother when she was thirteen that had fueled her drive. Covington mentioned her father in every article Sienna had found.

  She’d excelled at the University of Washington, getting her PhD in molecular biology in record time. She married Jensen Covington, a fellow researcher, and they quickly had two children: Joshua, then Emily. Despite raising a family, Covington published at a frenetic pace. She had focused on genetics and gene editing from the start. Seven years after gaining her doctorate, she had her own lab. Science Magazine had called her “The New Creator” because of her remarkable work and tireless promotion of genetically modifying organisms to the benefit of society. Throughout this time period, she was also recognized for her efforts to advance opportunities for women in science. Photo after photo of Covington in classrooms, from grade schools through colleges, filled Sienna’s digital file.

  But ten years ago, the cruelest irony had struck. Joshua, at the age of twelve, was diagnosed with glioblastoma. It was a fifteen-month death sentence. Ironically, Covington’s team had been working on a revolutionary oncolytic virus treatment for brain cancer that overcame the blood-brain barrier that made treatment so difficult. And while Sienna couldn’t find out how, the FDA granted accelerated approval for the treatment and Covington placed her son in the trial along with forty-three other patients. The trial achieved tumor reduction for thirty-eight and saw no change in four. But two died of a reaction later attributed to a toxic immune response. The press excoriated her. One month after Joshua’s death, Covington’s husband filed for divorce. And according to reports gathered from Sienna’s phone interviews with her former coworkers, her daughter cut off all contact. The other person who died in the trial remained a mystery. No family was referenced, and Sienna’s research turned up nothing.

  Covington disappeared for a year, then moved to San Diego and started Covington Labs. She battled public opinion by leading a group of scientists that had demonstrated the safety and efficacy of gene editing using the CRISPR technology, convincing several scientific and medical societies to support its use in humans. She testified in front of Congress to get the laws changed regarding gene editing in humans. Then she battled the FDA to gain approval of her current project.

  But after all of Sienna’s research, nothing pointed to Covington being a killer. If the truth was built on facts, Covington’s guilt looked like a house of cards. Maybe Covington wasn’t the terrorist the FBI claimed she was. There was only one way to prove it. But speaking to Covington seemed impossible. Still, she felt an obligation to let Special Agent Reed comment on her findings. She called the number he’d provided.

  “Miss Fuller. You have something for me?”

  “Hi, Agent Reed. I do have something, but it’s not what you expected, I’m sure.”

  Sienna took in a deep breath. She wanted to be careful here and keep her own opinion out of the conversation.

  “Well?” Reed said.

  She dove in and explained her findings while Reed listened without comment. She wasn’t sure if he was taking notes or recording the call, or just ignoring the whole thing. When she finished, he had only one question.

  “Who was the other person who died in the trial?”

  Sienna knew she had his attention focused on the right thing. “A woman named Jane Crandall. Sixty-six. That’s all I could get.”

  “We’ve gotten hundreds of leads from your article. We’re working through them as quickly as we can.”

  “But you’ll look into Jane Crandall.”

  “Look, Miss Fuller. I know what you’re thinking. But we have a mountain of hard evidence that says Covington is behind all of this.”

  “Something do
esn’t fit.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Why would a woman who fought all of her life for this trial destroy it and kill all of those people?”

  Reed paused. “I’ll ask her that if we can take her alive.”

  CHAPTER 28

  Reed didn’t like playing catch-up. Covington had avoided capture in the first twenty-four hours, and the odds were moving in her favor with every second that ticked past. Failure lurked in the darkness like a predator stalking its prey. In this case, the prey was his career.

  He passed his secretary’s empty desk and walked into his office. The clock on his desk read 9:14 p.m. At least he was happy that his secretary had taken his advice and headed home to her children. Jackson had gone to bed an hour ago, probably asking where his daddy was. For a moment, Reed felt hollowed out, but that loss was nothing compared with what the Reynolds family was feeling. They’d never see Ashley again. He stuffed his self-pity and refocused on getting Covington. Maybe it would help the Reynolds family—maybe not. He dropped into his chair and waited.

  After the call from the reporter, he’d gone down to the task force and received another briefing. Covington hadn’t surfaced and they’d identified the last known associates of Clarke. Agents were en route to interview three of them. The special agent leading the Cyber Action Team was in the building and heading to Reed’s office to provide a detailed briefing of their findings. Composed of some of the best technical experts in the Bureau, the team would provide a profile of those who conducted the cyberattack on the lab and might be working with Covington. Reed’s hope was that the profile would trigger a lead as to her location. The leads from Fuller’s article hadn’t delivered anything concrete.