Deep Blue consulted his own computer screen. “A shell company. I’m starting to get the sense that someone is trying very hard to cover their tracks.”
“So what do we know for sure? This guy, Fulbright, was able to call out the CDC through official channels; let’s assume that means he really does work in some government agency, but he’s gone rogue. His real employer has almost unlimited resources, and the ability to channel money through a number of different corporations. And let’s not forget, somehow they were keeping an eye on what Manifold was up to. They knew what Felice Carter brought back from the elephant graveyard almost from the start.”
“That kind of reach takes a lot of money; more money than multinational corporations, more money than most governments.” Deep Blue’s eyebrows drew together in a perplexed frown. “When I was in office, there was chatter about a… I guess you could call it a ‘metacorporation’-an entity that was secretly insinuating itself into other corporations, the really big multinationals, using shell companies and phony proxies to take over, essentially creating a gigantic global monopoly.”
“How would you keep something like that off the radar?”
“Logistically, it would be almost impossible. One person couldn’t run something so complex, and if you had a board of directors…well, eventually someone would slip up, or get greedy and break away…or they would just make bad decisions and it would all come unglued. But that never seemed to happen. There were rumors that the whole thing might be controlled from cyberspace by a sentient computer network. Artificial intelligence would be one explanation for the level of control that’s been exhibited.”
King shook his head. Global conspiracies were the last thing on his mind right now. “What does any of this have to do with Sara? Or with what Felice discovered in that cave?”
“If it involves bioweapons research, then I can think of at least one nightmare scenario. Radical depopulation. Selective reduction of undesirable elements in the population as a way of increasing control and bringing about economic stability.”
King thought about what he had witnessed in the cavern. “So, give the ‘desirable’ people the vaccine, and then turn the rest into zombies. A drone workforce that never complains, never rises up in revolt, and will defend you without question.”
Deep Blue nodded. “That’s exactly how a computer would reason. The economically disadvantaged represent a constant source of social instability. From ancient times, kings and emperors controlled the masses with distractions-gladiatorial games, circuses, daytime talk shows-but now there’s the potential to simply switch off the part of the human brain that causes discontent.”
“They already have the way to throw the switch. They just don’t have a vaccine for the ‘desirables.’ That’s what they need Sara for.” King took a deep breath. “Do we know where they took her?”
“I’ve tracked the plane ahead for six hours. It looks like they’re still in Africa-Algeria, to be precise.”
King’s screen showed an overhead view of a plane sitting at the end of a runway, and a road that connected the airstrip to a large fenced compound nearby. There were no other roads or buildings anywhere in the featureless brown landscape.
“I can’t find any records connected to that property,” Deep Blue continued. “In fact, according to the maps, it’s supposed to be a national park.”
“Money and influence. Bribe the right official, and do as you please.” King clicked on a button to zoom in on the compound. “It doesn’t appear to be built-up.”
“I’ll have the Crescent deploy our UAV and recon the area so we can determine how well defended it is. I’m afraid the rest of the team is unavailable and-”
“And the rest of the U.S. military is off limits to us now that we’re black, I know,” King said. “Tell me again why we went underground?”
But King knew why. The less people that knew about the…evils Chess Team faced, the better off the world would be. And it was just as likely that more military would get in his way, or turn this into an international incident, which wouldn’t be a good thing for a fledgling black op, especially one directed by a former U.S. President.
“I could hire some mercenaries,” Deep Blue said.
King laughed, but when Deep Blue didn’t join him, he asked, “You’re serious?”
“We have a budget for it now.”
King had some military friends that had become mercs. They were trustworthy, and a few extra guns would be nice, but ultimately, this had to be a solo mission for one very important reason. “This contagion, whatever it is, seems to be triggered specifically by a threat to Felice’s safety. If we raid the compound, it’ll probably scare the hell out of her, and believe me, you don’t want that to happen.”
26.
Brainstorm facility, Algeria
“What is the status of your research?”
Sara jumped at the sound of the electronically produced voice. After hours of conversing with Felice in a tone so low it was almost a whisper, the computerized speech was almost ear-splitting. “Is that you Brainstorm?”
“Affirmative. What is the status of your research? You have not yet drawn blood or tissue samples for analysis. How do you intend to conduct research and develop a vaccine without collecting specimens for study?”
Sara detected a very uncomputer-like note of sarcasm in the utterance. It was however the truth. She had not taken a single sample nor performed even one diagnostic test. She had simply listened as Felice recounted a bizarre tale of past lives and what sounded very much like spirit possession. Sara didn’t believe in reincarnation or ghostly hauntings, but she had come up with an alternative theory.
She put her hands on her hips. She didn’t know if Brainstorm had eyes as well as ears in the room, but she wanted him…or maybe it…to know she was defiant. “If you’re such a genius, why don’t you do it yourself?”
“Are you stating that you no longer wish to be involved in the research?”
Sara sighed. So much for defiance. “Look Braniac, this is what I do and I’m very good at it. So give me some time and space. Nagging me won’t make things happen any faster.”
“There is a 69.4% probability that you are purposefully delaying. It would not be in your best interests to attempt to prolong this process as an act of resistance. Your survival is contingent upon your usefulness. This is also true for your patient. The research can be conducted equally as well using samples taken post-mortem.”
Sara wanted to scream, Don’t you get it? There isn’t going to be a vaccine. Not for this. Kill her, and you kill the whole human race ! But revealing her suspicions about the “contagion” to a soulless computer was probably a very bad idea. She had seen too many science fiction movies where sentient computers decided that the world would be better off without their human creators. If Brainstorm realized the true potential of what Felice had discovered, then there was no telling how that might affect its grand scheme.
“Fine,” she said, evincing defeat. “I’ll take some blood samples if it will make you happy.”
At least, she thought, I know it's not eavesdropping on us. Indeed, if Brainstorm had been listening in, it would already know that she wasn’t actually stalling, and it would know the sheer futility of trying to develop a vaccine.
As Felice had related the story of her shared memory with an ancient primate female she called “Old Mother,” Sara had wracked her brain to come up with a rational explanation for what had happened to the woman.
Most troubling was the nearly instantaneous nature of the reactions. Even the most virulent contagions required several hours incubation time before a patient became symptomatic. But Felice had been overcome almost from the moment she touched the Old Mother’s skull. And Jack had described how the man attacking Felice had been changed into a mindless zombie “just like that.” Her pheromone theory couldn’t account for that, any more than the idea that it was all the result of a viral infection.