"They are translating mathematics into molecules. But where does the math come from?"
Memories of an earlier conversation floated to the surface of her thoughts. After watching Costa die, Major Gant had confronted Waters and Monroe about their fungal parasite.
"That makes me wonder who gave it to you," Gant had said.
Waters had insisted, "This is mine. All mine. I took the translations and grew it … nurtured it … into what you see here."
Translations?
Stacy stepped back. No, she stumbled back and away from the pages and pages of mathematics meeting biology. Away from the tabletops of artifacts that dated to more than a thousand years before Christ.
The room grew in size. Doubled. Tripled. Stretched off into the infinite.
Yesterday the most amazing thing to happen in her life had been jumping from an airplane from six miles high. She had seen the whole world from the edge of space. The size and scope had enthralled her imagination, making her feel small before the vastness of the universe, but in a way she found exhilarating.
Now she fell again, this time her mind in free fall, and there was nothing but fear. How could it all connect? How could it possibly connect?
There, under the glass in the display case, was one of the greatest archeological mysteries of all time. Outside the room — around her — was a madhouse of bio terror. Somewhere, somehow, there was a link between the two. To even consider such a connection felt like the beginnings of insanity.
It seemed that she was, after all, still in the laboratory.
21
Dr. Waters answered his summons to the security station, walking along one of the main halls until arriving at the raised room that resembled a press box at a sports stadium. He climbed the three stairs leading to the side door, swiped his security keycard through the magnetic strip, and opened up the door.
Inside, two men in military tunics sat at a console in front of thick glass overlooking the base's primary passageway. One of the men was of European decent, the other Asian.
The console sported panels dealing with everything from ventilation and power to containment and fire response. Two rows of small monitors lined the top of their work station, displaying video feeds from around the complex.
"Dr. Waters, Mr. Monroe is on the line," the European man said, nodding toward the rear wall of the small chamber.
Back there stood a cabinet containing a communication station as well as a circular round portal that resembled a miniature bank vault door or perhaps an oversized torpedo tube hatch from a submarine.
Waters picked up a big, bulky phone that could have been mistaken for an early model cellular unit from the 1980s. In reality it was a sophisticated satellite transmitter.
"Yes, Terrance? Are you returning soon?"
"I should be arriving within the hour, but this couldn't wait. I just received permission and funding from our sponsors to proceed to the next phase."
"I am surprised," Waters admitted. "I never thought they would actually move forward."
"It's like I told you. They see things from our perspective and realize that we are very nearly at a point of no return. As difficult a decision as this is, we have to get to the next testing phase as soon as possible if we're going to keep to our proposed schedule of full release in three months. I think they understand that if we want to save this planet, we have to act now."
Waters rolled his teary eyes but kept his tone sincere. "Of course, Terrance. It's good to be working with people who have such vision. Refreshing, actually."
"It is, isn't it? Listen, the reason I'm calling is to find out about the test on the blocking agent. That's the final piece in all this. Without it, the sponsors will back out."
"I understand. It's important that they are safe and sound when the outbreak occurs. However, I am waiting on the test results from Pearl. I should have definitive information by the time you land."
"Good. Keep on it."
"Oh, and Terrance, I thought you might want to know that our guest managed to survive the first round of his trials. Rather impressive, actually."
"He's dangerous. I wish we knew more about him."
"Your sponsors couldn't help?
The only sound that came over the phone for several long seconds was the noise of a running engine and what might have been whirring helicopter rotors.
Waters answered for Monroe, "You didn't tell them, did you?"
"They don't need to know. It would just give them cold feet."
"Yes, yes, of course. The commitment to the great cause might waver if they knew we had encountered a military presence on Tioga. I am wondering if they truly comprehend what is coming, Terrance. I'm afraid they might not fully believe that this project is on the verge of reaching completion. This is no longer an academic exercise or some kind of fantasy."
"You just keep up your end," Monroe said defensively. "They are on board. We've received funding, manpower, and all manner of materials. There's no reason to believe they are going to back out now."
"No, I suppose not. But Terrance, what if they decide to change the arrangement? Exactly how well can we trust our security services here? Are you sure they are true believers, or will they swoop in and steal away the monster I've created so as to use it on their own terms for political — not environmental — reasons?"
Again a long pause before Monroe communicated, "Just finish up the tests. I want answers when I land."
"Yes, Terrance." Again Waters rolled his eyes, and when he set the phone down he let out a soft chuckle and spoke to himself, "Idealism can be rather charming, even if it is misplaced."
"Sir," the Asian guard called to the doctor, "we might have a problem."
Waters hobbled over to the security console, where he stopped and leaned heavily on his cane. The guard pointed to one of the monitors. The video feed showed Major Gant — armed — moving out from a side hall and into one of the larger corridors.
"We could lower the containment bulkheads in that part of the complex and trap him," the guard offered as his hand reached for a row of big black levers.
"No, no," Waters smiled. "He is near the specimen containment area. Have a few of the men come at him from either direction and we will pin him in there. Don't sound the alarm; if he knows we're on to him he'll panic and try and hide. We want him in the open."
Waters turned to leave, thought, and then said, "I'm going over to supervise his recapture. You might want to send a patrol to check out test chamber fifteen and the interrogation room. I'm guessing you'll find a couple of bodies in one or the other. But keep it quiet. No need to worry the whole base over this. We'll have Major Gant under control momentarily."
Thom crept along the main passage, staying close to the wall, with his eye open for security cameras. Most were on swivel bases, allowing for the camera to pan but also creating blind spots directly beneath those mounts.
He did his best to bounce from one to another and hoped human nature — inattentiveness or distraction on the part of the guards assigned to watch those feeds — would help conceal his movements, although he knew his escape could not remain secret for much longer.
The hall rounded to his left and straightened out, where, after a few yards, a wide horizontal door labeled "specimen containment" drew his attention. He had noted the door on their way in. Still, that room held little interest for him. Thom wanted to find a communications center or something similar, not a warehouse of fungal zombies.
However, his decision on where to go next was made for him as the thump-thump-thump of marching boots approached from behind, just around the curve of the hall he had just navigated. At the same moment, the wide horizontal door to the specimen containment room opened and a middle-aged man in a lab coat reading off a clipboard stepped out.