by Steve Hadden
Sienna sat in the passenger seat still hammering on her tablet. After refueling, they’d pulled onto the interstate a hundred miles back and Harrison tried to grab some sleep in the backseat. Sienna had launched the story and as expected, all hell had broken loose. Sienna stopped typing and closed the tablet. Kayla could feel Sienna’s gaze.
“It’s amazing. You look younger than you did this morning. You slept for four hours in that shitty backseat and you still look five years younger.”
Kayla remained silent. Even though she trusted Sienna, she didn’t want to get into the details of RGR again.
“Can I ask you a few more questions?” Sienna said.
Any other time, Kayla would have declined. She always defaulted to keeping to herself. It seemed in her life, the less she revealed the better off she was. But Sienna had risked her life for them and had been true to her word so far. She was Kayla’s only source for information that was difficult to acquire. And besides, everything was already on the front page of every website and newspaper on the planet. Kayla stayed focused on the road ahead. “Sure. Ask away.”
“You really don’t have any idea who’s after you?”
“No. What I do know is that those two killers have followed us everywhere. But no, Harrison and I don’t know who they are.”
“But if they are hired killers, who hired them?”
“Someone with a hell of a lot of resources and money.”
“Well, here’s what I think. You find out who’s behind this and you find your treatment. Maybe save your life.”
Kayla had already weighed that option. It had a high certainty of ending with her death. “I have another way to do that. It’s much less dangerous.”
“You mentioned that earlier. Can I ask exactly what that is?”
“Off the record?” Kayla glanced at Sienna. “I can’t have this get out.”
Sienna paused, then nodded. “Okay. Off the record.”
“I told you I’ve been sending Emily letters.”
“I remember.”
“I’ve been sending her something else.”
Sienna raised her eyebrows in silence.
Kayla looked straight ahead. “Data and instructions.”
“How to make RGR?”
“Yes. She has all the details. It’s a breach of my confidentiality agreement, but I thought someone else needed to have it other than the feds. I also thought it might help her with her work.”
“But you said she’s never responded. How do you know she hasn’t destroyed it?”
“My gut says she still has it.”
“What if your gut is wrong?”
“Then I’m dead.”
Sienna waited and seemed to be processing that fact. “You don’t have to be. We can find out who’s behind this.”
Kayla glanced at Sienna, then focused back on the rainy road ahead. “I told you I have no idea.”
“You can’t think of anyone who would have a grudge against you?”
“A grudge? A grudge doesn’t destroy my lab and kill my entire team.”
“Sorry. What I meant was, is there anyone you can think of who would want revenge for something you did? Maybe if you focus on the last ten years or so.”
Kayla thought back over her life. “To be honest, I didn’t coddle people. I was busy. I had to stay focused. There were some that took my focus as arrogance. Some were angry with me, I’m sure. But nothing that would escalate to this.”
Sienna picked up her tablet, hit a few keystrokes and read the page. “What about the other person who died in the trial with your son?”
The mere mention of her son’s death sent another arrow through her heart. She absorbed the pain, then thought about the elderly woman who’d died.
“It was an older woman. She was sixty-six. Her file said she didn’t have any family.”
Sienna closed the tablet. “So that’s why you think it’s a foreign government or someone who’s against gene editing.”
“Yes. And that’s why Emily is my best shot.”
“What’s she like?”
Kayla smiled as she remembered her daughter at seventeen. “She’s smart and funny. She has a sweet side, too.” Kayla glanced at Sienna and smiled. “You remind me of her.”
“And you think she’ll help even though she hasn’t talked to you in ten years?”
“I hope so. Let me ask you. If you were in her shoes, would you help me?”
Sienna stared out the windshield. “First of all, I would never not talk to my mom. But if for some reason I didn’t, yes, I’d save my mom’s life.”
“That’s what I’m counting on.”
Sienna’s tablet vibrated and she opened it. “Jeez.”
“What is it?”
“I keep getting these weird messages to my e-mail account at the paper.”
“From whom?”
“I don’t know. It just says TOC is the sender.”
“What do they say?”
“They’re just numbers and letters. I have no idea what they mean. I think someone is screwing with me. They started after I published the first story about you.”
Kayla threw a nod toward Sienna’s tablet. “What’s that one say?”
“17EEB.”
Goosebumps rippled across Kayla’s skin. “What did the others say?”
Sienna scrolled the tablet. “There were two others. E8D4 and 5746.”
Kayla couldn’t believe her ears. She lifted her foot from the gas pedal and looked at Sienna. “I think I know what those mean.”
CHAPTER 57
Kayla maintained a speed at which she could easily control the SUV in the rain but still concentrate. “Hexadecimals came out of the evolution of computers and use the ten numbers in the decimal system plus six other symbols, A through F, representing values ten through sixteen,” she said to Sienna.
The conversion without a computer or paper required concentration, but Kayla was good at it. She won several bets in college doing this very thing. She heard Harrison sit up and saw him lean forward in the rearview mirror.
“Why are we discussing hexes?” he asked.
“Sienna has been getting messages from some source with the handle TOC,” Kayla said.
“What do they mean?” Sienna’s tone was eager and impatient.
“Give me the first one again.”
“E8D4.”
Kayla spoke slowly as she formed the answer in her mind. “59604. What’s the second one?”
“Hang on.” Sienna typed the number into her tablet. “The next one is 5746.”
“Let’s see. That’s 354118.”
“I didn’t know you were so talented,” Harrison said.
“I loved numbers,” Kayla answered with a smile. “What’s the last one?”
“17EEB.”
“Easy. 98027.” Kayla paused. “I know that number for some reason.”
“Let’s see,” Harrison said. “Five digits. The easiest answer is a US zip code.”
“That’s it. That’s the zip code for Issaquah. Where I grew up.”
“Really?” Sienna said. “That can’t be a coincidence.” She looked at her tablet again. “One of the other numbers could be a street number.”
“Maybe,” Harrison said. “But there is no street name.”
“And there are too many numbers to match one of the numbered streets in the area,” Kayla added.
“It’s gotta be an address,” Sienna said.
Kayla let her mind drift and allow another answer to surface. Then it came to her. “One of them could be code for letters in the alphabet.”
“That means 5746 would have to be EGDF, since you can go higher than twenty-six for the alphabet,” Harrison said.
“Maybe that’s the street number?” Sienna said.
Kayla worked the second number in her head. “Three is C. Five is E. Four is D. One is A. One is A again and eight is H.” Kayla hesitated. “No. That’s not right. The last number is eighteen not one and eight. That makes
the last letter R. C-E-D-A-R.”
“That’s it—5746 Cedar with the zip as 98027,” Harrison said. “Can you run a search?”
Sienna typed on her tablet. “Wow. That’s a nice place.”
She showed the tablet to Harrison and held it up for Kayla to see. The house was huge and behind a high stone wall with heavy iron gates. Sienna scrolled down. “Shit.”
“What is it?” Kayla asked.
“It was purchased by a limited liability company. NCL.”
“Can you search on the LLC name?” Harrison said.
Sienna typed in the name. “Yup. Here it is. The address for the LLC is in Bellevue, Washington.”
“That’s right next to Issaquah,” Kayla said.
Sienna typed something else. “That’s it. I knew it!”
Kayla glanced over at Sienna. “Knew what?”
“That’s the address for SZENSOR Corporation.”
Kayla drifted out of her lane but corrected quickly. “Neville Lewis?”
“I interviewed him Thursday night,” Sienna said.
“The question is, who’s sending his address to you in such a clandestine way and why?” Harrison said.
“Maybe just a disgruntled employee,” Kayla said. “As much as I dislike him, the guy is a saint. He’s given most of his money away already to save the world.” Out of the corner of her eye, Kayla saw Sienna freeze, then stare at the screen.
“What is it, Sienna?” Kayla said.
“The SZENSOR website. Its tagline is ‘Truth or Consequences.’”
“TOC,” Kayla said. “So it could have come from inside.” Suddenly the idea of Neville Lewis’s being involved got traction in Kayla’s mind.
“Maybe it’s someone who knows something,” Harrison said.
Kayla heard Sienna’s tablet ding. Kayla looked over at Sienna, who was reading the new message. Her face went slack, and she seemed to become nervous. “What is it, Sienna?”
“Your daughter, Emily.”
The way Sienna mentioned Emily’s name ignited Kayla’s concern. “What about her?”
Sienna lifted her head and locked her eyes on Kayla. “She’s missing.”
Overwhelmed by the sudden surge of energy in every muscle in her body, Kayla fought to keep the car on the road. She envisioned a mercenary grabbing Emily and wanted to beat her daughter’s captors to death. “No. No!” she yelled as she pounded the wheel with her fist. It wasn’t that she’d lost her only hope to get the injection that would save her life. They’d taken Emily, and Kayla was responsible. They were still seven hours away. Seven hours to where Emily might be held. She wanted to floor it, but she was already at the limit; any more speed would draw the attention of the police or hydroplane them into a fatal crash. It was like watching someone take her child in slow motion.
She felt Harrison’s hand on her shoulder. “I’m so sorry.” She appreciated the gesture, and covered his hand with hers. His touch calmed her, and she sighed. “Thank you.” She glanced at the digital clock on the dash. She’d passed any window in which someone other than Emily could re-create the treatment in time to save her life. Her time had passed. And with Emily in danger, there was only one goal as far as she was concerned. Kayla grabbed the wheel with both hands and refocused straight ahead.
“What are we going to do?” Sienna asked, her voice trembling.
“We’re going to hunt them down and get my daughter back.” A fierce determination straightened her spine. She pulled her shoulders back and gave the SUV a little more gas. She’d gladly trade her life for Emily’s. She knew that’s what it would take. Then she’d make them pay for hurting Emily. And her search would start with one man. Neville Lewis.
CHAPTER 58
Reed felt the chill of the heavy mist on his face as they left the car. He welcomed its invigorating effect. He’d conducted many interviews and developed countless sources in his career, but none more important than this one. Lewis’s home was made of chiseled gray stone and sat on at least two acres at what Reed guessed was a thousand feet above the lake below. The cloud cover seeped through the evergreens on the mountainside above them. Cameras were obvious and mounted at the entry gate, the corners of the house and above the front door. Reed estimated the house had over ten thousand square feet and plenty of room to conceal Emily Covington. To the left, he spotted a late-model Range Rover parked in front of the five-car attached garage. According to the agents watching the house, it belonged to Max Wagner.
When they reached the front porch, Owen stopped and turned to Reed and Connelly. “Let me make the introductions, then nice and easy on the questions. Don’t hold back, but don’t assume he’s guilty either. We have to live with this if he isn’t involved.”
Reed acknowledged the request with a nod. “Copy that.”
The thick black door opened and Neville Lewis appeared. He was taller than Reed had expected from the news stories he’d seen over the years. He commanded immediate respect and radiated the aura of a much younger man. Lewis focused on Owen and extended his hand. “Special Agent in Charge Owen. I didn’t expect to see you this afternoon.”
“Hi, Mr. Lewis. Sorry to surprise you, but we have an urgent matter we thought you might be able to help us with.”
“San Diego?”
Owen nodded. “This is Special Agent in Charge Reed and Special Agent Sean Connelly from our San Diego field office. Can we come inside?”
Lewis gave each of them a cordial smile and nodded to Reed and Connelly. “Certainly. Please come in.”
He led them through the expansive light gray foyer accented with angular ultramodern sculptures in black and white. Just what Reed expected from a tech billionaire. They passed a black steel staircase that spiraled to the second floor. Soft piano music filled the house, but Reed didn’t hear either of Lewis’s two young children. They continued down a hallway lined with framed digital pictures that changed color and hue as Lewis passed each one.
Reed watched Lewis as he walked. He was lanky and loose-jointed and moved like a marionette. But there was no sign of any internal stress or tension. The hallway led to a black-and-white study at the rear of the house. Digital pictures and two large flat screens covered three walls. The back wall was floor-to-ceiling windows and provided a 180-degree view of the valley and lake below them. Behind the cloud cover, Reed knew there would be a magnificent view of the Northern Cascades.
Max Wagner waited for them in Lewis’s study and walked up with a confidence Reed assumed was a prerequisite for being a former chief of station for the CIA. Lewis made introductions quickly. Wagner was short and muscular with a gray crew cut and blazing blue eyes. His strong handshake and booming low voice showed no indication of deception, but Reed didn’t trust his read of either man.
Lewis guided them to a sitting area where two black leather high-back chairs that looked like Recaro racing seats faced a minimalist chrome and black leather sofa in front of a fireplace. Reed noticed what looked like a gold urn at the center of the mantel. Lewis and Wagner took the chairs and Owen and Reed took the sofa. As planned, Connelly was free to drift and examine the room for clues.
Lewis glanced at Connelly, then back at Reed and Owen. “So, how can we help the FBI today?”
“I’m sure you’re both familiar with the events in San Diego and the fact we believe we have a domestic terrorist in possession of a very important medical technology that in the wrong hands could become dangerous,” Owen said.
Both Wagner and Lewis showed no reaction to Owen’s opening.
“Special Agent in Charge Reed has been working the case and has a few questions I thought you might be able to help him with.”
Lewis and Wagner shifted their nonchalant gazes to Reed.
Reed decided to ease into the interview. “As Special Agent in Charge Owen said, I’m investigating the events in San Diego, including the murder of fourteen people in the attack at the lab and the whereabouts of the treatments that were taken. In addition, large amounts of data were stolen
from the cloud storage for the lab.”
Lewis looked bored and Wagner stared with a blank expression on his face—too blank.
Reed continued. “Mr. Lewis, I know you’re very familiar with the technology through your work with the Human Preservation Project. I wondered if you had any ideas about who could have done this?”
Lewis relaxed deeper into his seat, crossed his legs, leaned his elbow on the arm of the chair, and stroked his chin. “I assumed you had identified the perpetrator as Dr. Covington. That would have been my first guess. But I see that the reporter from the San Diego paper disputes that conclusion. Beyond that, I’m sure the FBI can come up with a better list of suspects than I can.”
“What is your relationship with Dr. Covington?”
“There is none. I know of her and she of me. We’ve been on opposite sides of the debate on human gene editing. That’s the extent of it.”
“Can you tell me about your opposition to the medical technology at issue here through the HPP?”
“Yes. The HPP’s sole purpose is the protection of the human germline. Any effort that threatens that is a threat to humanity. Despite Dr. Covington’s claims of safety, this specific gene editing risks changing the germ cells whose genome can be passed on to generations to come, changing human evolution. Some of those changes could be unknown, along with their effects. We oppose it on that basis.”
“And you encourage and organize protests against any such testing?”
Lewis leaned forward. “Peaceful demonstrations. No violence.”
Reed saw no indication of deception in Lewis’s delivery and demeanor. He decided to sharpen the questions. “Do you think any of your followers could be spurred into violent action? I mean do you think they could have taken it too far?”
Lewis settled back in the chair with a relaxed confidence that a multibillion-dollar net worth supplied. “Agent Reed. Human beings are capable of anything, as I’m sure you’ve seen in your career.” Lewis cut his eyes to Connelly, who’d returned to the area and was looking at the urn on the mantel. For a millisecond, Lewis looked unsettled but quickly returned his attention to Reed and relaxed. “But I know of no one who would have done so. You see, my wife and I spend our fortune helping others through our foundation—fixing failures of humankind, not creating them.”
