Текст книги "The Cure"

Автор книги: Douglas E. Richards

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Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 22 страниц)

36

WHILE THEY WAITED to call Drake, the three scientists took the time to exchange backgrounds. Burghardt had earned his Ph.D. in molecular biology from UCLA, specializing in the study of rhinoviruses. Much of his work involved understanding differences in infectivity levels between the numerous minor variations of the common cold. Why were some strains so much more infectious than others?

It was obvious why Drake would want to recruit someone with his expertise. Drake had approached him, Burghardt explained, revealed himself as an alien, and described his goals. Burghardt would be one of only a handful of people to have knowledge of an alien on Earth. He would be saving the species. And he would have access, at least remotely through Drake, to the world’s most powerful computer, propelling his work to levels impossible otherwise.

It hadn’t been a hard choice for Burghardt to stop applying for postdoc positions and come live in a mansion a movie star would envy.

Besides, he had always been a vocal fan of science fiction, even to the extent of posting reviews on his own blog, so working with Drake was as cool as it got. At that point Erin had interrupted. “Drake seems to like recruiting science fiction fans, doesn’t he?”

Hansen shrugged. “Not necessarily. Max has some unique skills.”

She turned to the short molecular biologist. “Are there any other genetic engineers in the U.S. who are as expert with rhinoviruses as you are?”

“Four or five.”

“I’ll bet he chose you to approach because he knew you liked science fiction,” said Erin.

“Most scientists like science fiction,” said Hansen.

“Yes. But not all. I wonder if he thinks science fiction fans will be more receptive to the alien angle?”

Both men agreed that this was possible, although they seemed to think it unlikely, and the discussion moved on to other subjects, as the three of them continued to try to get to know one another prior to their scheduled call with Drake. Before they knew it, it was time, and Burghardt led them to his home office.

The room had built-in desks, cabinetry, and bookshelves throughout, although once again the cabinets and bookshelves were mostly empty. An expensive computer and several large monitors looked lonely on the desk.

Burghardt manipulated the computer and soon had its audio and video output thrown up on a forty-inch monitor, the room’s largest. Hansen approved. When Skyping with an alien, Erin might as well get the full effect.

Burghardt positioned himself in front of the camera first and warned Drake that he wouldn’t immediately recognize his colleagues. When they did appear, Drake looked them up and down but didn’t comment on their new looks. “Congratulations on making it to Colorado. Are you both okay?”

Erin caught Hansen’s eye and gave him a quick nod. She had recognized the voice and odd accent of the man she had known as Hugh Raborn immediately.

“We’re fine,” said Hansen. “Although I was hoping you would make it here before we did.”

“Far less urgency for me to get there,” said Drake, who appeared the way Hansen had described: just about average in every way. “You two are the rate-limiting step. With any luck I’ll be able to make it there before too long. But Steve Fuller is expending considerable resources to find me. And you two have an advantage over me while on the run. You don’t make other humans uncomfortable. So you can interact with them for extended periods if you have to, and maybe even enlist their help. I can’t.”

“Kyle told me the sight of you might give me the willies,” said Erin by way of greeting. “And he was right. Even on the video.”

“I know,” replied Drake. He unbuttoned his shirt to reveal the alien nature of his physique, as he had done with Hansen and Burghardt. As usual, his tendrils whipped through the air with a grace that couldn’t be faked. Hansen glanced over at Erin. She was hypnotized, and wore a crooked smile on her face.

“I’m sorry I had to resort to the Hugh Raborn deception with you, Erin,” said the alien. “But now you see the necessity.”

“Why didn’t you give me this demonstration from the beginning?” asked Erin. “Like you did with these two?”

“I had to interact with them far more extensively on this project than with you. Your activities were largely autonomous.” He paused. “So Max, can I assume the Seq-Magic Ultra is already in high gear, synthesizing our construct?”

“No,” said Erin, sparing the short molecular biologist from having to be the bearer of bad news. “I haven’t given him the combination yet.”

“Why not?” demanded Drake. “Surely by this point Kyle has explained the importance of this project? The overarching goals?”

Erin nodded. “He has. But I wanted to talk to you first. Hear your voice. See your, ah … tendrils.”

“Okay. You’ve done that. Now let’s end this call so you can tell Max what he needs to know without further delay.”

“I need him to sequence the construct with me looking over his shoulder first.”

“What?” thundered Drake. Hansen had never seen him react this way to anything before. The stress of the last few days must be driving him near the edge.

“It’s only a few hours’ further delay, if that. And I’ll be honest, I now have zero doubt you’re an alien. And your motives are probably pure. But then again, you are an alien. And the Hugh Raborn in you knows that even human motives can sometimes be impossible for other humans to fathom. So just because your expressed motives walk like a duck, and quack like a duck…”

“And if Fuller catches up to you because of your few hours’ delay?” said Drake.

“I have to take that chance. The longer we argue about it, the longer the delay,” she pointed out.

Drake glared at Erin Palmer for a few additional seconds, but she retained a look of resolve, and he reached a decision quickly. “Max,” he said. “Sequence the construct in front of her. Make it quick. Get us all back on the line the moment she’s satisfied.”

“Will do,” said Burghardt, ending the connection.

37

ONE OF TWO palatial master bedrooms in the mansion had been converted into a biotech lab, which Erin noted was as fully equipped as any she had ever seen. A fume hood sat over a table at one end of the room. Lined up against the wall at the other end were several stainless-steel refrigerators and freezers, each set to a different degree of coldness, all the way down to negative seventy-six degrees Fahrenheit. Glass cabinets above a long lab bench were stuffed with chemicals, flasks, beakers, and petri dishes, and a large glass incubator sat catty-corner to the refrigeration units. Inside the incubator, liquid-filled two-liter flasks were growing huge numbers of E. coli bacteria, the workhorse of biotech, at their preferred growth temperature of ninety-five degrees Fahrenheit.

In the center of the room stood a stainless-steel device about the size of a large refrigerator, with a touch-screen monitor attached. Seq-Magic Ultra was emblazoned in blue, stylized letters across its front. The device contained a variety of cabinets that slid open at the touch of an icon to reveal slots for key reagents, which its internal robotics would use to build long stretches of DNA, one nucleotide letter at a time. The series of chemical reactions inside the state-of-the-art device occurred at breathtaking speeds, but couldn’t come close to matching the speed of the simple E. coli bacterium, which could replicate an entire genome of over four million bases in less than thirty minutes.

Burghardt slid a pair of disposable latex gloves onto his hands, and removed a box of inch-long, sealed plastic tubes from a freezer rack. He selected a vial and showed Erin the tiny, carefully written label on the side, which read Cure Construct—Final, along with a date. Hansen read the label as well, although he was determined to be a silent observer during this process.

Burghardt dialed a micropipetter to draw up a single microliter from the vial, popped on a sterile plastic tip, and removed an almost imaginary amount of fluid. Ten minutes and several ministrations later, the Seq-Magic Ultra was digesting the sequence of the construct with superhuman speed, and strings of A’s, G’s, C’s, and T’s were streaming across the monitor faster than human eyes could follow, each letter appearing in a different color.

Within thirty minutes the sequence had been completed, over six thousand base pairs long, and checked for accuracy twice.

“Can I assume the sequence can be directly uploaded to an online site?” said Erin.

“Of course,” replied Burghardt. “This device is wirelessly connected to the Internet,” he added, a statement Hansen thought was unnecessary. What device wasn’t connected wirelessly to the Internet these days?

“Good,” said Erin. “Go to GeneRepository-dot-com,” she instructed.

“Never heard of it,” said Burghardt.

Erin shrugged. “So what?”

“So, while there isn’t a single database that contains all known gene sequences, CodeMaestro comes the closest.”

“GeneRepository has the complete sequences of more pathogens,” said Erin. “And better software.”

Burghardt stared at Erin in contempt. “How do you know anything about any of these databases?” he said. “When do you do molecular biology?”

“Not as often as you,” replied Erin with a scowl, clearly annoyed at the short genetic engineer. “But my field uses these tools also. It seems I know more about what you do than the other way around.”

Hansen finally decided it was time to step in. “This is ridiculous,” he said. “Who cares? Both sites will have rhinovirus sequences, correct? So let Erin use the one she likes. This is for her benefit anyway.”

Burghardt nodded. “You’re right,” he said, but couldn’t help turning to Erin and adding, “but you’re still wrong about this. If I haven’t heard about a sequence database, it can’t be very good.”

Within two minutes they were on the site Erin had wanted. It was a bare-bones, no-frills site that was very simple to use—which had been Google’s claim to fame. Maybe this was why she liked it so much, thought Hansen.

The Seq-Magic Ultra uploaded the sequence to the Web site. Given that the long stretch of DNA had to be checked at different starting and stopping points, and thus different permutations, even checking against the rhinovirus database took several minutes. But in the end the site confirmed that the sequence was 84 percent homologous to conserved rhinovirus regions.

Burghardt beamed. “Satisfied?”

Erin nodded. “Almost,” she said, instructing the software to check the sequence against all known pathogens, looking for 50 percent or greater homology. This was a far bigger and more complex job and took almost an hour before the site reported back that there were no matches.

The construct was based on the common cold, just as advertised. With no known deadly sequences inserted.

They had Drake back on Skype within minutes.

“Congratulations,” said Erin cheerfully to the alien when he appeared on the monitor. “Your construct checks out. So grab a pen and paper. Because we’re about to change the course of human history.”

38

ERIN HAD MEMORIZED the precise dosages necessary for each of the eight genes, and carefully provided this information, making sure it was read back to her twice. When she was through, Drake asked to confer with Burghardt in private, probably about his plan for disbursing the virus, which he refused to disclose to either Hansen or Erin.

Compartmentalization.

While Burghardt would now be working furiously for twenty to thirty hours, Erin and Hansen no longer had any responsibilities. Since it was unwise for them to risk leaving the premises, they sent Zalinsky on a shopping errand to pick up clothing they had chosen online at a local Target store, including underwear, so they could change out of garments that had been worn hard for several days and were about as fresh as month-old cheese.

They both took naps, cooked up omelets using the ample ingredients found in Burghardt’s well-stocked kitchen, and after their change of clothing arrived, took long, hot showers.

Hansen felt fantastic. Against all odds, they had prevailed. In less than a day they would achieve their goal. And if it took a while for them to create a new base of operations completely off the grid, he was prepared to live with that. The residence they were in could house dozens of people in comfort, so if Hansen had to choose a place to hole up in, and a female companion to hole up with, he could do a lot worse than this spectacular mansion and a remarkable woman named Erin Palmer.

Burghardt came downstairs as night was falling to tell them Drake had requested another call with them. The short molecular biologist set up the call and then left, disappearing once again into his lab.

When Drake’s face appeared on the monitor, Hansen said, “How’s it coming?”

“You’re in the same house as Max. Why are you asking me?”

Hansen glanced at Erin. “Well,” he replied, looking a little embarrassed. “He’s holed himself up in the lab, and he’s working so hard we didn’t want to bother him. Even to ask how it’s going.”

“I approve,” said Drake. “I’m told it’s going great. Max is ahead of schedule.” He sighed. “But let me tell you why I called. I’ve decided on a change of plans. Instead of meeting you out there, I’m going to need you both to bring the finished virus to me. The three of us can implement the release plan together.”

“What is the release plan?” said Erin.

Drake smiled. “I’ll tell you when we’re about to release it,” he replied. “The point is, you two are the only ones I trust to do this. Other than Max, of course. But he’s been working around the clock. You two are fresher.”

“Where are you?” asked Hansen

“Near San Francisco.”

Erin and Hansen traded glances. They had barely survived traveling from Arizona to Colorado. They were still the subject of a massive manhunt.

As if reading their minds, Drake said, “This should be very simple. I’m at a safe house I set up a while back for emergencies. This will probably ultimately become the new Yuma. So I have access to my resources again, including our quantum computer. Which I managed to save, by the way.”

Hansen’s eyes widened. How had he forgotten to even ask about this?

“This includes financial resources,” continued the alien. “So I’ll have one of the men in my employ deliver a van to your location. All you have to do is get in the back and let him drive you here. No one will stop him. And no man, woman, highway camera, or satellite will be able to see you while you’re hidden in the back.”

“Sounds like a stress-free trip,” said Hansen. “We could use one of those.”

“Great,” said Drake. “Max thinks everything will be ready by noon tomorrow. Be in his garage at one, and my man will meet you there.”

They agreed and ended the connection.

As soon as Drake’s face disappeared from the monitor, Hansen took Erin in his arms and kissed her gently, savoring the feel of her soft lips and tongue and the clean scent of her hair. “I guess it’s going to be a long, boring night,” he said playfully. “I just wish I could think of something fun to do that would help us get through it.” He raised his eyebrows. “Something that would provide healthy exercise and burn calories.”

“Normally, I’d think this was a great idea,” said Erin. She paused for a few seconds, blew out a long breath, and added, “But this is an important night. We’re on the eve of a momentous change. So what I’d really like is if you would just hold me tonight. We can lie together and watch a movie. Get to know each other better.”

Hansen was all for them getting to know each other, and this plan sounded great. But it would sound even greater if it was implemented after they had made love. “We can do that,” said Hansen, trying unsuccessfully to hide his disappointment.

What did this mean? Did she regret their night together? Was she trying to pull back? Given the warmth he had felt from her, and the sentiment toward him she had openly expressed, this was the last thing he had expected.

As if reading his mind she leaned in and kissed him, only separating several minutes later.

“Don’t get me wrong,” she said. “The other night was great. And I hope to have many more nights just like it. Besides, I’ve never been with a bald guy before. But let’s wait until tomorrow night. After we’ve successfully changed the world. We’ll be even happier, and more eager.”

The corners of Hansen’s mouth turned up into the hint of a smile. “I don’t know, Erin. I’m pretty sure it isn’t possible for me to get any more eager. Especially after that last kiss. But I understand what you’re saying.”

“I promise you. When we have something to celebrate tomorrow, we’ll celebrate in a way that you’ll remember for the rest of your life.”

Hansen drew her to his chest and wrapped his arms around her. “I’m going to hold you to that. But for the time being, we’ll just, ah … cuddle,” he said.

“Thanks, Kyle,” she replied.

Hansen sighed. All of her reassurances aside, there was still something about this that didn’t make sense to him. Oh well, he thought. This wasn’t the first time he had failed to understand where a woman was coming from. And he guessed it wouldn’t be the last.

39

MAX BURGHARDT WAS bleary-eyed and disheveled, not looking much better than Hansen and Erin had after they had battled thugs at the Saguaro Inn and spent more than ten hours under a bridge. He carried a four-foot-long steel canister under one arm, packed with uncountable infectious agents, which could serve as the epicenter of a worldwide infection millions of times over.

Having been notified that the van was only a few minutes out, the three scientists stepped through a door at the far end of the mansion that opened to a ten-car garage, which Hansen guessed was as spacious as his entire apartment had been.

The garage was spectacular. The floor was not lowly concrete, but rather a honey-colored, smooth, glossy surface that Hansen thought just might be marble. Oak cabinets lined one wall and were so stylish they would have felt at home in the nicest living room. A short, glass display case sat against the wall near the door to the main house, and Hansen could only guess the use the previous owner had made of it, since it was totally empty now.

The only way one could tell this was a garage and not a small house, other than the presence of two cars at the far end of the structure—the latest Mercedes convertible and a four-door Jaguar—was the presence of a home gym in one corner, although it, too, was top of the line. Eight-foot-high stacks of black, rectangular weights were enclosed within a central steel structure, and four or five black chairs and benches extended from the center all around. Various white steel bars and levers attached to pulleys protruded from steel beams in a seemingly haphazard fashion.

Burghardt had been holding a closed duffel along with the virus canister, but Hansen had no idea what was inside. The mystery was cleared up, however, when the short molecular biologist extended it toward Erin. “I fixed up a goodie bag for your trip,” he said. “Mostly junk food. But it’s a long way to San Francisco.”

“Very thoughtful,” said Erin.

They were waiting in silence for the van to arrive a minute later when the door to the main house flew open and Gibb and Zalinsky entered, commando style, automatic weapons extended.

It took a second for Hansen to assimilate what was happening.

The weapons were pointed at him. And at Erin.

Hansen was more confused and angry than he was alarmed. “What’s going on here?” he demanded. “Have you lost your minds?”

“Hands where I can see them,” said Gibb calmly in response.

Hansen made sure he kept his hands away from his pockets, and Erin did the same, first lowering Burghardt’s goodie bag to the glossy floor. The short molecular biologist backed a few steps away, but didn’t look surprised or troubled.

While Gibb continued to hold a gun on them, Zalinsky quickly and expertly frisked them both, leaving no intimate body part unchecked. He pulled a .45 from Erin’s belt and a small stainless-steel tube from her pocket, about the size of a bloated pencil.

Hansen was taken aback, having no idea Erin had been carrying a gun. She must have taken it from one of the men she had incapacitated at the Saguaro Inn.

Zalinsky placed the .45 and the silver tube on top of the short display case behind him. He nodded toward the gun. “I guess what I was told is true,” he said to Erin. “You are more dangerous than you look.”

A chill went up Hansen’s spine as he realized what was going on. Somehow, these men were working for Fuller. There was no other explanation for their actions.

But as he considered this further, he realized that Burghardt would now be in their gun sights as well if this were the case. And the molecular biologist would not be reacting with such equanimity.

As Hansen’s mind flailed, trying to make sense of things, the expected van arrived and pulled into the garage. The side door of the van slid open and an average-looking man emerged onto the polished floor, facing Kyle Hansen and Erin Palmer.

It was Drake.

Just when Hansen thought things couldn’t get any stranger. “What is this all about?” he demanded once again, turning to the newcomer. “Drake? What’s going on?”

The alien stared deeply into Hansen’s eyes. “I’m not sure I believe that you don’t know, Kyle. But if you truly don’t, you should ask your traveling companion.”

All eyes turned to Erin.

“Me?” she said with an incredulous note in her voice. “I have absolutely no idea. Other than to say that it looks like aliens can go just as crazy as humans.”

Drake ignored this comment. “So how long have you been working for Steve Fuller?” he asked her.

The color drained from Hansen’s face. Had he entered a surreal, parallel universe where black was white?

“Can you hear how ridiculous you sound?” protested Erin. “I had no idea Steve Fuller even existed until a few days ago when he called me in San Diego. I don’t know what this is about. But either you’ve been misled, or you’re very, very confused.”

“Drake,” said Hansen. “She’s right. I’ve come to trust Erin with my life. And if she were working for Fuller, nothing that has happened since she called you from San Diego makes any sense. It’s out-and-out impossible.”

“I don’t know, Kyle,” replied Drake. “Maybe you were working with Fuller. Maybe you recruited Erin during your journey together. All I know for sure is that she’s working with him now. I’m still not sure about you.”

Hansen’s mind was spinning in circles, and he couldn’t even begin to understand where Drake was coming from. “You’re sure she’s working with Fuller based on what?”

The alien was about to answer when Erin interrupted. “Look, Drake, Kyle told me how difficult it’s been for you living among humans. Being exposed to our violent natures. He told me it’s having a negative effect on you. But you have to fight it,” she insisted. “Are you familiar with the story of Sodom and Gomorrah?”

Drake laughed. “If I understand the word correctly, I think what you’re trying to do is called a filibuster. Nice try, Erin. I see you glancing outside. Waiting. Hoping you can stall me long enough for help to arrive. But that’s not going to happen.” He paused. “Show her, Gibb,” he said.

Hansen suddenly realized from the nonreaction of Gibb, Zalinsky, and the driver of the van to the word alien being thrown around that Drake must have let them in on his little secret. This was astonishing in and of itself.

Gibb pulled a sophisticated electronic device from his pocket, the size of a cell phone. A red light glowed on its surface.

“That device is blocking the bug you have on you, Erin,” said Drake. “So your transmission is no longer getting through to Fuller. No rescue squad is coming. They’ll just think the bug malfunctioned. Happens all the time. So no need to stall with boring stories or armchair psychobabble.”

Erin didn’t respond, but Hansen had never seen her look as worried as she did now, and they had been through some desperate situations together.

“But we didn’t want Fuller to worry about you,” continued Drake. “Or suspect you might have had a change in plans. So we timed it so the last thing he’d hear before the bug’s unfortunate malfunction is your colleague giving you a goodie bag filled with food. For your imminent trip to San Francisco. This should be very reassuring to him.”

“You’re out of your little alien mind,” said Erin.

Drake simply smiled but said nothing.

“Drake, Erin may be right,” said Hansen. “You know you aren’t well-suited, psychologically, for living on this planet. And you’ve had stretches, ever since I’ve known you, where you don’t quite seem to be yourself.” He gestured to Gibb, Zalinsky, and the driver of the van. “The Drake I know would never risk telling these men who you really are.”

“I appreciate the concern, Kyle. But these men are mercenaries. Ex-military. Their loyalty is absolute. They don’t care about lofty ideals. They just know I’ve paid them very well. And that if they do everything I ask of them for the next six months, they’ll get a bonus that will enable them to retire three times over.”

Drake turned to Gibb and Zalinsky. “And speaking of doing everything I ask of you,” he said. “It’s time to strip Erin Palmer of her electronics,” he said.

Gibb nodded and faced Erin. “Okay,” he said. “My partner is going to remove a bug and two homing devices from you. He’s wearing body armor, so if you try something cute, I’ll just shoot you. If you’re able to block the shot with his body, he’ll be just fine, and I’ll shoot again.”

The muscular mercenary approached her and shoved her head down roughly. He picked through her hair to her scalp, like a gibbon grooming a mate. Finally he stopped. Keeping a finger pressed down on an exact spot on her skull, he removed a pair of tweezers from his pocket, obviously having been forewarned as to what the removal would require. He brought the tips of the tweezers to Erin’s head, gripped a small growth like one might grip a greedy tick, and pulled.

Erin cursed as a tiny piece of her head was ripped out along with Zalinsky’s target, and a fissure of blood appeared. Less than a minute later, Zalinsky had removed two additional small devices he found pinned to the inside of her clothing.

Zalinsky placed all three in his hand and held it open for all to see. The electronic devices were so small they were dwarfed by his palm.

“You know what these are, Kyle?” said Drake.

Hansen frowned deeply. “Gibb said he was removing a bug and two homing devices. So I assume that’s what they are.”

“Glad to see you were paying attention,” said Drake dryly.

“I’ve never seen any of these in my life,” said Erin. “Somebody must have planted them. Maybe while I was sleeping.”

“Why don’t I believe you, Erin?” said Drake, shaking his head sadly. “Imbedding the legs of an electronic bug like this in someone’s skull, deep under the hairline, is Steve Fuller’s signature move. I worked with him for years. Believe me, I know.”

Erin turned to Hansen in surprise. “He worked with Steve Fuller?”

“I’m afraid so,” replied Hansen, looking guilty.

“I thought you said he only knew Fuller because he’d put him on some kind of list?”

Hansen winced. He had planned to tell her the parts of the story he had omitted. He had no idea it would come out like this.

But more importantly, how could they have found these devices on Erin Palmer? Had she been playing him for a fool the entire time? He refused to believe it. It just wasn’t possible.

“We discovered these electronics yesterday during a routine scan,” explained Drake. “Imagine my surprise.” His voice darkened. “And my disappointment.”

“I’m being framed,” said Erin softly.

“Save your breath,” said Drake. “I’m not buying it. You were wearing a bug that I’m sure was broadcasting straight to Fuller. And a homing beacon as well. And as soon as you met me in person, I have no doubt you were planning to plant the second beacon on me.”

Erin just shook her head helplessly, her eyes filled with horror.

“But now your plan has completely backfired. Because the bug has transmitted the false information I gave you. The bit about coming to San Francisco to meet me. Fuller is nearby, I’m sure, but he won’t move in. He has no idea I’m here. He thinks I’m in California right now.”

He walked over to Zalinsky and several tendrils snaked out from under his shirt and swept up the two homing beacons in the mercenary’s hand. He quickly transferred them to his human hand and the tendrils disappeared under his shirt once again. He carried the homing beacons over to the driver of the van, who had remained still and silent since he had arrived, as had Burghardt. The driver lowered the window even farther and Drake handed him the small electronic devices, which the man put in his shirt pocket.

“Watch this,” said Drake. He nodded to the driver, and the van exited the garage and was soon out of sight.

“You get what’s happening here?” the alien said to his two prisoners. “He’s going to San Francisco. With Erin’s homing devices. Her bug is no longer working, but fortunately, both of her homing devices are working fine. So given that Fuller overheard you were going on a long journey, when the homing devices start moving in the direction of San Francisco, he’ll be following that van every single mile of the way. I could walk from here to the border of Colorado right now with a giant neon sign that said, ‘Attention Steve Fuller, Drake Here,’ and I wouldn’t be touched. Nice plan, huh?”

Hansen couldn’t help but admit that if what he said was true about Erin, it was a nice plan. Using her electronics against her to lead whoever she might be working with on a wild-goose chase was inspired.

Drake turned to Burghardt for the first time, and gestured toward the metal canister under his arm. “The aerosolized virus, I presume?”

Burghardt smiled. “That it is.”

“Great.” Drake walked over to Burghardt and held out a human hand, and the molecular biologist passed him the canister.

“Let’s get out of here, Max,” said Drake.

They both walked to the door to the main residence. Drake gripped the handle on the door and then turned back to his two prisoners, still being held at gunpoint. “As much as I’d like to get to the bottom of this immediately, I have things to do. Conditions to cure. So I have to go now.” He glared at Erin. “But I’ll be back in about two hours. To interrogate the two of you properly.”