Текст книги "The Cure"

Автор книги: Douglas E. Richards

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47

“DRAKE WAS INCINERATED in an explosion?” repeated Erin. What did that mean?

“Obviously,” continued Steve Fuller, “reports of his death were greatly exaggerated.” He raised his eyebrows. “But we didn’t know that at the time. We only learned this recently. When we were gathering further intel on you. Imagine our surprise when we heard his unmistakable voice over your phone.”

“Did he stage his death so he could go AWOL?” asked Erin. “So he could take more dramatic steps than the rest of the Wraps were willing to take to save us?”

Fuller shook his head. “This was the most important assignment ever given to a Wrap in their history. There is zero chance this was his motive. And no one believed in what we’re doing more than Drake.”

“So what’s your explanation?”

“The Hive,” said Fermi grimly. “It must have found a way to penetrate his defenses and control him. Which is alarming on many, many levels.”

Erin’s eyes narrowed. “You actually think part of this hive-mind is present here on Earth?” she said.

“That has to be it,” said Fermi. “How the Hive managed to learn about this mission we may never know. But the truth is, this is a pivotal point in a war that won’t take place for thirty-two thousand years. So it wouldn’t surprise me if the Hive attempted to infiltrate Drake’s mind with more than the usual tiny fraction of its full capabilities. To gain a foothold. Given his genetically engineered defenses to this, the Hive must have had to work carefully over many years to breach. We didn’t think this was possible no matter how long it tried, but we must have been wrong.”

“But how can you be so sure this is true? You say yourself you thought a breach was impossible. So even an improbable solution makes more sense. Maybe Drake finally went crazy from being around us for so long.”

“I wish that were the case,” said Fermi. “But not only did we hear his voice, we heard what he’s been up to. With you. Curing psychopathy. Which we quickly recognized as a stunningly brilliant plan by the Hive to win the war before it begins.”

“I don’t understand. Curing psychopathy sounds more like a plan from an actual Wrap. One pushed over the edge and wanting to go on offense rather than defense to protect humanity. If Drake were controlled by the Hive, why wouldn’t he just nuke us into oblivion?”

“Too risky,” said Fermi. “Let’s walk through the scenario. The Hive finally succeeds in taking over Drake. All the Wraps on this planet are exceedingly well protected, and we’re never allowed to all be together at the same physical location. Similar to your president and vice president never flying on the same plane. There is far more security around us right now than is evident, believe me. So Drake—let’s now call him Hive Drake or H-Drake, since he’s no longer in control of himself—can’t be sure an attack on us will succeed. And if he fails, we’ll be alerted that the hive-mind has circumvented our safeguards. And the Hive may never get another chance.”

Erin pursed her lips. “That explains why he wouldn’t try to attack the other Wraps on Earth. Not why he wouldn’t try to wipe out the human race.”

“Because he knows we’re still out there, monitoring,” said Fermi. “Even if he did manage to produce a lethal, infectious bioagent and slip it under our radar, when it started killing people we’d be on top of it. We could use our skills and computer to counteract it. Even if this wiped out half of humanity, which might be devastating to your civilization for hundreds of years, the Hive won’t arrive for thirty-two thousand years, and our analysis suggests this setback would only make you stronger in the long run. Like a broken bone is stronger after healing, or a controlled burn can lead to a healthier forest.” He paused. “But we don’t need to speculate. Because we know what H-Drake has been up to. First, he faked Drake’s death. Any ideas what he did next?”

Erin shrugged. “None.”

“We’re almost certain the first thing he did was recruit Kyle Hansen,” said Fermi. “Kyle could help him build a primitive quantum computer, within the limitations of primitive Earth components, and work with the required human consultants and collaborators.”

“Based on what you’ve told us,” added Steve Fuller, “H-Drake must have convinced Kyle that along with running this show, I moonlighted as a dangerous arms dealer and killed off the other three Wraps. That’s probably why Kyle didn’t mention them to you. Not important at that point—at least given what he believed the truth to be.” Fuller shook his head. “Kyle also faked his death about six months later, probably so he could join H-Drake full time.”

Erin nodded, but remained silent.

“We had big plans for Kyle once he graduated from CMU,” continued Fuller. “And his supposed death hit us all hard. And not just because we thought we lost his brilliance, which is considerable, although he’s so modest you’d never guess it. But because we monitored and vetted the shit out of him, and had developed an affection for him. He’s a good man.”

Erin had quickly reached this same conclusion herself.

“Kyle spoke many times about Drake using a quantum computer,” noted Erin. “So they must have succeeded.” She furrowed her brow in confusion. “But I still don’t get it. The Hive’s grand plan after all of this is to cure psychopathy? How does this help them? Help it?” she corrected.

“Like I said, H-Drake knew we were still out there,” replied Fermi. “Along with our quantum computer and all of its capabilities. We screen for everything that could cause widespread destruction; nuclear, biologic, chemical, anything. And we correlate purchases and other information. If he tried to unleash any kind of WMD attack, we’d probably stop it, along with the Hive’s chances here. And as I said, even if not, if he didn’t wipe out the entire population, you’d only grow back stronger over many thousands of years.”

The alien shook his head. “But we weren’t looking for someone constructing a crude quantum computer,” he explained. “Or someone trying to come up with a cure rather than a biologic agent that kills. Basically, he knew a cure would sail right under our radar screen. We wouldn’t be the slightest bit suspicious until it had infected everyone on Earth.”

“Yes, but so what?” said Erin, still confused. “A cure for psychopathy just helps you in your goal of protecting us. Decreases the chances we’ll commit suicide.”

“No,” said Fermi adamantly. “A cure defangs you. A cure takes away some of the elements that make you what you are. The positive of what you are.”

“No!” barked Erin passionately. “I refuse to believe that! Yes, psychopaths are fearless. And boldness and fearlessness in business and other settings can be a positive. And they can be very articulate and persuasive, and can sometimes think outside the box. But they are so destructive that anything positive about their behavior is more than nullified.”

Erin remembered telling Hansen that some trolleyology research had suggested psychopaths might be better utilitarians than normals. On the other hand, a nuclear bomb might make a better paperweight than a normal bomb. But so what? This was minor consolation to those it destroyed when it went off.

“We agree,” said Fermi. “In those that are psychopathic, the negative brought on by their genes far outweighs any positive. But the way the Hive is curing this will remove all of these genes from the human gene pool forever. Not just for psychopaths. How many psychopathic genes did he discover?”

“Eight.”

“Okay, imagine that if you’re unfortunate enough to have all eight, you’re a psychopath. Which is a huge negative to society. But what if you had four of the eight? Where would that put you? Maybe more selfish than average. More aggressive. More prone to take risks. Less compassionate. But in this case, the good these traits can do in moving society forward might outweigh the bad. We had our computer do an analysis, and if you wipe out all the genes from the human gene pool that in the right, unfortunate combination cause psychopathy, humans lose their edge. They never become as sheep-like as the members of the Seventeen. But they lose enough of their insatiable drive, their ultracompetitiveness, to no longer be a threat to the Hive.”

Could this be true? Could psychopathy just be the unhappy extreme of traits that helped mankind dominate a hostile planet? It was something Erin had never considered.

“We put everything we know into our computer,” said the alien. “And its analysis showed that in the Hive’s shoes, the strategy H-Drake is attempting to deploy is the optimal one. The strategy with the maximum probability of achieving long-term success. Namely, neutralizing humanity as a threat when the physical components of the Hive arrive.”

“Are you sure you and the Hive haven’t overestimated the importance of some of these genes to our drive and ambition?” asked Erin.

“Positive,” said Fermi. He paused in thought. “Did you ever see reruns of the original Star Trek television series?”

Erin shook her head no, wondering where this was going.

“I’m a huge fan,” said Fermi. “Which is ironic, because one of my two Wrap colleagues took the name Roddenberry. And he isn’t a fan.”

“What?”

“Never mind,” said Fermi. “Anyway, I’ve read all the scripts for this series. I don’t watch the actual shows, because I can’t handle the violence, but I can skip over the violent parts of the scripts rather easily.”

“Okay, so what about it?”

“There was an episode called ‘The Enemy Within,’ which I believe provides a perfect sense of why negative traits, in proper moderation, need to be preserved in your species. In the episode, a transporter malfunction splits Kirk into two identical versions. At least identical physically. But one version is basically a psychopath. And the other is basically a sheep—with a constitution similar to members of the Seventeen. What’s fascinating about the episode is that the empathetic Kirk can’t make hard decisions. They paralyze him. He can barely make any decisions. He’s impotent. On the other hand, the psychopathic Kirk is all rage and no reason.”

“I have to admit,” said Fuller, “Fermi had me watch this after we discovered what H-Drake was up to and it’s a fascinating episode.”

“If I ever get my life back,” said Erin dryly. “I’ll be sure to buy it.”

“So to continue,” said Fermi, “McCoy and Spock dissect the situation. McCoy tells the compassionate Kirk the following, and I quote: ‘The intelligence, the logic. It appears your half has most of that. And perhaps that’s where man’s essential courage comes from.’ But later, Spock, a student of humanity, tells McCoy the following, which is the most relevant for our discussion: ‘And what is it that makes one man an exceptional leader? We see here indications that it’s his negative side which makes him strong. That his evil side, if you will, properly controlled and disciplined, is vital to his strength.’”

Erin almost whistled. It was uncanny how this line exactly mirrored current events, and surreal to have an actual alien quoting lines from Star Trek like a fanboy. “Very interesting,” she admitted.

And it was. Fermi’s computer had confirmed her own certainty that any positives that might come from the perfect storm of genes that resulted in full-on psychopathy paled when compared to the negatives. But she could see the truth of his argument as well. A smattering of these same genes in the population was critical for human leadership, human vitality.

There was a long silence in the room. Finally, Fuller nodded at Erin and said, “So that’s basically it. We’ve laid out the entire situation as well as we possibly can. I know we’ve given you a lot to think about. Do you believe us?”

Erin realized she did, and told him so.

“We need your help,” said Fuller.

“Don’t worry. I won’t be giving Drake the dose information he needs. He won’t be able to carry out his plan.”

“For now,” said Fuller. “But this won’t stop him from blending back into the woodwork and trying it later. Or something else. We have no idea of the Hive’s full capabilities, strategic or otherwise. We need to end this now.”

Erin considered. “What do you want me to do?” she asked. “And why hasn’t Kyle been part of this conversation? Why are you keeping him unconscious?”

“We’re all but certain humans are one of the species not susceptible to infiltration by the hive-mind,” said Fermi. “But until a few days ago, we didn’t think Drake was susceptible either. So it is possible that a concerted effort by a greater than normal fraction of the hive-mind for a period of years might succeed. And Kyle has now been working with H-Drake for many years.”

“You can’t possibly think that Kyle is being controlled.”

“No,” said Fuller. “We think this is still very unlikely. But, unfortunately, the stakes are too high to assume anything else.”

“It’s impossible,” insisted Erin. “Believe me. The two of us have…” She stopped in midsentence. “Well, let’s just say that I’ve been, ah … involved with him. Intimately,” she added, and something about their expressions made her think this wasn’t a surprise to them, although she had no idea how this could be. “There are certain reactions that can’t be faked,” she continued. “He’s as human as they come.”

“Wrap families had no idea fourteen hundred years ago when one of their members was infiltrated by the Hive,” explained Fermi. “Even though it’s in control, it can default to the being it’s controlling for physical and social reactions. It’s an emulator function. While in control the Hive can run a stimulus response routine that the being it’s controlling can’t stop. Whatever the real Kyle Hansen would have said, however he would have responded, the Hive can fire up these pathways and read the result. And choose to respond in exactly the same way. So in effect, it can be Kyle Hansen, down to his last personality quirk or physical reaction. Until it chooses to be otherwise. If any being the hive-mind infiltrated acted like the Hive for even a few minutes, the infiltration would be exposed.”

This was troubling, but Erin was still all but certain Kyle was still Kyle, on the basis of logic alone. But she did understand why this group wanted to err on the side of caution. “Are you sure none of the other Wraps have been infiltrated?” she asked.

“Positive,” said Fuller. “The Wraps know the telltale signs. They’re as subtle as a quantum signature, but their computer knows how to find them. The Wraps are clean, unless all three are being controlled. And since they alerted us to the Hive and the current situation in the first place, we know that’s not the case.”

“If you know the telltale signature,” said Erin, “why can’t you clear Kyle?”

“We haven’t yet zeroed in on the precise telltales for humans,” replied Fermi. “Again, we’re not even sure if infiltration is possible in your species.”

“Okay,” said Erin. “But I’ve been working with Drake for years also. How do you know I haven’t been infiltrated?”

“We heard your conversation with Drake,” replied Fuller. “He desperately wanted the cure and you didn’t give it to him.”

Erin nodded. “So what do you propose?”

“While we’ve been talking,” said Fuller, “with the assumption that we’d be able to convince you to help us, we’ve had a team brainstorm a credible cover story to enable us to put you and Kyle back on the field of play.”

“To do what?”

“We’ll give you a thorough briefing on that in a few minutes,” said Fuller. “But for now, I’d like to run a cover-story scenario by you and see if you think it will work.”

Erin nodded.

Steve Fuller pulled a cell phone from his pocket and less than three minutes later a man joined them, his right arm in a sling. The same man who had entered her motel room.

“I gave Captain Brock here and his men a difficult challenge,” said Fuller. “They needed to capture you both without harming either of you, but with a catch. They had to put Kyle to sleep before you, so that we could later convince him that you had prevailed and saved his bacon. So we couldn’t use overwhelming force or he wouldn’t buy it. The captain performed brilliantly, at great risk to himself, since the strategy severely tied his hands.”

Brock nodded at Fuller, acknowledging the praise. He then turned to Erin. “I really want to thank you for not killing me when you could have,” he said gratefully. He gestured toward his injured arm. “It was a brilliant shot. Taking me out of play without doing any permanent damage. I’m in your debt.”

“Yeah, well … you’re welcome,” said Erin. A broad grin spread slowly across her face. “I have to admit, I’m not used to being thanked by someone after shooting them.”

“Do you shoot a lot of people, ma’am?” said Brock.

Erin laughed. “No. You’re the first.”

“Good to know,” said Brock with just the hint of a smile. “In any event, my team has come up with a cover story we think is workable.” He went on to describe the fictional tale of Erin’s heroic rescue of Kyle Hansen from the Saguaro Inn. “And we found a great location you can credibly say you were hiding at while waiting for Kyle to recover. We were really proud of this one. Did you know there’s a dried-out river in Tucson?”

“Yes,” said Erin. “My roommate told me all about its history. The Santa Cruz.”

“Very good. Anyway, once we fly you back and set the stage, we were thinking of placing you there. Under a bridge. And leaving a Lexus for you at the airport.”

“A Lexus? How will I explain that?”

“You ever fly to any conferences with your advisor?”

Erin shook her head no.

Brock smiled. “Well, Kyle Hansen won’t know that, will he?” Then, with a shrug, he added, “And I’ve decided your advisor is the kind of man who would own a Lexus.”

48

WHEN ERIN PALMER finally finished her account of what had transpired after Hansen had lost consciousness, he was speechless. For years he had believed Steve Fuller had turned on the Wraps, killing them all. All but Drake. And he had believed that Drake was dedicated to helping mankind.

And now this. Incredible. A ruthless species fifty-eight thousand light years distant. A species capable of seizing control of a Wrap emissary sent to Earth. As if the existence of Wraps on Earth, and the description of the Seventeen, weren’t mind-blowing enough.

And Hansen believed every word. There was no other way Erin could know about Fermi, or that one of the other Wraps was named Roddenberry. This was the only way to explain her shifting of allegiances, and the electronic devices Drake had found on her.

And it all made perfect sense. Drake’s actions in the garage were the most telling sign of all. Not only did he not behave as an avowed pacifist, but he seemed to take relish in their discomfort. Over the years, Hansen had caught Drake behaving in ways that clearly conflicted with what Hansen had originally been told about Wraps. But he had made excuses for Drake every time.

Hansen stared at Erin in wonder. “So they sent you back in as a mole,” he said. “So you could locate this, ah … H-Drake, and help Fuller stop him.”

Erin nodded.

“Is that why you wouldn’t sleep with me last night?” he asked suddenly. “Because you thought I might be, you know, H-Kyle?”

Erin laughed. “No. I’m convinced you’re human and they were being too paranoid. But I had a bug partially implanted in my skull. I knew Fuller and his people were listening in. I found the thought of a group of men around a speaker listening to our … noises … while we were having sex a little … inhibiting.”

Hansen made a face. “No kidding,” he agreed. “That could make anyone self-conscious. But what made you so convinced I wasn’t being controlled?”

“It has to be difficult to control a mind from fifty thousand light years away—even if you can send your thoughts out instantaneously. And, apparently, controlling a human is no easy task. The Hive would have had to start years ago. And what would be the point? It was already controlling Drake. Why expend the resources to control two people working side by side?”

“Well, let me reassure you. No one is controlling me.”

“Which is exactly what you would say if the Hive were controlling you.”

Hansen frowned. “Good point.”

“Don’t worry, Kyle,” said Erin with a smile. “As I’ve said, I have zero doubt. But I promised Fuller I wouldn’t risk telling you until after Drake was killed and your actions made it absolutely clear you hadn’t been infiltrated.”

“So the plan was to kill Drake?” said Hansen. “Killing him wouldn’t hurt the Hive. It would just abandon his mind at the time of death. Is there any way to just push out the hive-mind and save him?”

“I’m afraid not. Not according to Fermi. At this point, the Hive’s control is too strong. And if the Hive did leave Drake, it would be sure to kill him itself no matter what. Killing him is our only choice.”

Hansen pondered this. “Any chance Fuller didn’t buy Drake’s head fake with the homing devices?”

“I don’t think so,” replied Erin with a frown. “I think we’re totally on our own. Which Fuller promised me he wouldn’t let happen. In his defense, he had no idea Drake would discover his electronics and come up with such a brilliant misdirection strategy.”

“The Hive shows an impressive knack for deception.”

“True. But I’ll bet we’re still the champions in that category. I think the Hive is just a talented amateur. Our species are the true professionals.”

“Could be,” said Hansen. “But maybe not for too much longer. We’ve lost. You know why Drake left. To release the virus. And with Fuller tracking a decoy van, there’s nothing to stop him. The funny thing is that this cure will be a blessing to mankind in the short run. Even if it ultimately saps our drive and retards our scientific advancement. Even if it eventually causes us to lose a war we’ll never live to see.”

“Don’t be so sure we’ve lost,” said Erin. “Drake won the last round, true. And taking Fuller out of the picture hurts. But things may not be entirely what they seem.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t tell you,” she said. “Because Drake almost certainly has this garage bugged.”

Hansen’s eyes widened. This had never occurred to him. But she was right. It was obvious. Why else would they be left alone together, without any guards posted within earshot?

Drake had wanted them to chat freely. He hoped they would provide critical information before he even began an interrogation.

“Anyway,” continued Erin. “That’s the story. I may have left a few things out,” she added, nodding slowly and giving Hansen a wink at the same time. “But I think I covered most of it.”

Hansen stared at her intensely as though trying to read her mind. She had already disclosed there was a deeper picture, which she probably shouldn’t have. But for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what it might be. They were restrained, weaponless, with no hope of backup. And Drake had doubtlessly finished releasing the virus.

Erin put a finger to her lips. Then she rolled her hand tight, the one that was lashed to the home gym. It was remarkable how small she could make it, and she had tilted her wrist slightly when the cuff was placed around it to gain extra room. Even so, even using her free hand to help pull her bound hand through the plastic bracelet, she could not remove it from her wrist.

Undeterred, her face a mask of pure concentration, she began to saw the skin of her wrist into the plastic. Blood began to seep out where she had cut herself, and she twisted her wrist in such a way as to coat all of it with a fine layer, using it as a lubricant. Hansen was amazed at her stoicism. She didn’t cry out in pain and her face continued to show nothing but determination.

Erin was about to try to slide her wrist free once again when the door from the house opened, and Drake, Burghardt, Gibb, and Zalinsky entered the garage.

Zalinsky took one look at Erin and raised his gun. “Having trouble with your cuff?”

Erin shook her head. “No trouble. Why do you ask?”

Drake glared at the muscular mercenary. “Just keep the gun on her and assume she can slip her cuff whenever she wants,” he said.

“Roger that,” said Zalinsky.

“So,” said Drake, facing the two prisoners. “Have you been having fun?”

“Don’t pretend you weren’t listening in,” said Erin.

“I was. But I didn’t catch all of it. I was busy releasing the virus, I’m afraid. And now it can’t be stopped.”

“How was it released?” asked Hansen with genuine curiosity.

Drake gestured to the short genetic engineer. “I had Max here separate it into thirty half-full perfume bottles,” he replied. “We wanted to make sure that it was properly scented, for good measure. I had previously hired thirty women to go to all the terminals at Denver International Airport and spray the perfume around. Pretending to apply it to themselves. I explained I was doing market research for a perfume company, and would later ask questions of passengers to determine if they had smelled anything pleasant at the airport or not.”

“Impressive,” conceded Erin. “What better place to begin a global infection than at an international airport?”

“Exactly,” said Drake. “Denver International is one of the top fifteen busiest airports on your planet. Even as we speak, infected passengers are jetting to every city in America, and most countries of the world. Within a few days, there will be infectious centers in thousands and thousands of locations worldwide. A virus this infectious doesn’t really need such a big head start, but why not?”

Hansen turned his head toward the genetic engineer and two mercenaries. “Did any of you hear our conversation in here?”

The three men all indicated they had not.

Figures, thought Hansen. Drake would be sure that the bug in the garage transmitted only to him. But the human members of Drake’s team were here now. So maybe he could plant a seed of doubt. It would take considerable doing, but it might be possible. A malevolent hive-mind fifty-eight thousand light years away controlling Drake? The cure for psychopathy part of a grand plan to defang the human race? To get these men to believe this would be exceedingly challenging. But Hansen was determined to give it everything he had.

“You know I was Drake’s biggest supporter,” he said to the humans in the garage, speaking as quickly as he could since he didn’t know long he would have before Drake found a way to stop him. “But Erin convinced me Drake has played me for a fool. And he’s doing the same to you. So hear me out. Don’t let Drake muzzle me. The stakes couldn’t be higher. If you hear me out and I can’t convince you, shoot me.”

Gibb considered. “Okay,” he said. “We’ll hear you out. Why not? Tell us how we’re being played.”

“No.” said Drake. “Shoot them immediately!”

“If Drake has nothing to hide,” said Erin, “why is he suddenly so eager to kill us?”

Hansen caught the eye of the genetic engineer. “Drake told you he was the ultimate pacifist, didn’t he, Max? Does ‘shoot them immediately’ sound like the words of a pacifist?”

“I said to shoot them!” barked Drake.

Gibb hesitated.

Drake shook his head in disgust. “No matter,” he said. “None of you would have been useful for much longer, anyway.”

Suddenly, Burghardt and the two mercenaries sank to their knees, screaming in agony, the weapons held by the two mercenaries falling to the ground beside them. They continued screaming and writhing, as if their entire bodies were being sprayed with acid.

Hansen glanced at Drake, but he wasn’t moving and looked bored.

The screaming continued for several seconds and then all three men passed out, all at about the same time. An eerie silence filled the enormous garage.

Drake walked over to the three unconscious men, lifted one of their guns from the floor, and put a single bullet into each of their skulls, his expression never changing.

While Drake was going about this with cold-blooded efficiency, Erin redoubled her previous efforts to slide her wrist through the cuff, tearing more skin as she did so, but making sure this occurred on the top of her wrist so she didn’t cut through her radial artery. With one last heroic effort, shredding the skin on top of her wrist to the bone, she finally pulled it through.

As Drake shot the last of his three former associates, he dropped the gun and turned to face Erin, now free. A stream of bright red blood was running along her wrist and splattering on the glossy floor.

The Hive-controlled alien shook his head, as if disgusted by Erin’s pathetic attempt at resistance. “Take one step toward me and I’ll do the same thing to you as I did to them,” he warned.

Erin didn’t respond, but she remained where she was.

“So let me clear some things up for you, Kyle” said Drake, never taking his eyes from Erin Palmer. “What Erin meant when she alluded to having some tricks up her sleeve is that she gave me the wrong combination for the cure.”

Hansen glanced over at Erin, whose eyes widened in shock.

“That’s right, Erin. I know all about that. Why do you think I suspected you in the first place? When you gave me the wrong combination, I knew something was wrong. So I had Gibb scan you for bugs while you were napping.”

“How could you know I gave you the wrong information?” mumbled Erin in dismay.

“There was no guarantee you would survive and make it here. So I decided I needed a backup, in case you didn’t. I waited until Fuller pulled surveillance from your apartment and broke in, being careful not to disturb anything so no one would know I had been there. But I did pay a visit to your desktop computer. And I got the correct combination from your files. I had what I needed five hours before I spoke to you.”

“So why didn’t you put Max to work on this immediately?” asked Erin.

“I decided to wait for you to give me the information, since I had already told Kyle you were the key, and I didn’t want to have to explain to him further. I have to say, I was very surprised when you fed me misinformation.” He shook his head. “But make no mistake. Your pathetic attempt at deception gained you nothing. I gave Burghardt the correct information immediately after you left the call. So the virus I released will do exactly what it’s supposed to do.”