“Huang Jin was very unhappy with your decision to stop his research,” the old man said. “He fled America. Many in my government were unwilling to trust him. A Chinese, born in San Francisco, who worked for your government? He was taken to Tianjin, along with the boy. Years were spent, learning everything we could from him.”
The old man stared intently at him and Smith realized the old man was waiting for him to speak. “He wasn’t allowed to continue his research.”
“Of course. The risk was too great.” The old man bowed his head, his sudden anger evaporating. “I do not claim to be a perfect man. I know we had many programs that were equally… hideous. Huang Jin’s work was terrifying. I understand why you chose to stop.”
“There are certain lines that should not be crossed,” Smith said. He meant it. The things Huang Jin proposed danced near the edge of madness. Plagues the like of which the world could not imagine. Virulent diseases spliced together that could kill every living being. The means to eradicate all life on the planet. He shuddered at the memory.
“There are lines that should not be crossed,” the old man agreed. “Huang Jin died a broken man, his anger directed at the United States and the men who halted his precious work. Huang Lei was seventeen. He listened to his father rage about the United States. It changed him.”
“He wants to destroy the country that killed his father,” Smith said.
“What you must understand about the boy is that after his father’s death, he set himself a task. He acquired great wealth and power. His fortune allows him great influence. His agents have approached us many times with plans to strike America. We have always refused. He believes us weak.”
Smith nodded at the old man. “You take a long view of the game. Why risk something so dangerous when you have all the time in the world?”
“You understand,” the old man said agreeably. “This young man threatens the world. He must be stopped.”
The young driver followed the Suburban around a corner and pulled in behind it next to the International Monetary Fund. The left rear door of the Suburban opened and his driver, Robert, stepped out and approached the car. The young Chinese man turned to them, bowed his head, opened the door and stepped out.
“I believe our meeting is at an end. Good luck, Mr. Smith. No one knows Huang Lei’s location or even what he looks like. He hasn’t been seen in public in twenty years. Perhaps you will find a way to locate him?”
Smith bowed his head as the old man got out of the Lincoln. “Perhaps I will try looking where he is not, instead of where he is.”
Robert slipped in behind the wheel and glanced back, then turned to watch in the mirror as the old man carefully closed the rear door.
The old man tapped the glass and Smith fumbled with the button until the window lowered. The old man leaned in and eyed him shrewdly. “You are a clever man.”
Nancy’s computer dinged when the decryption finished on the last of the server’s files.
She opened the first folder and started reading. Soon she was awash with data, thousands of records that she couldn’t begin to cross-reference.
Why can’t there be a flashing red arrow pointing to a plot to bomb or poison America? She shook her head. It had been an hour and she still didn’t have anything to show for it.
DEWEY, she IM’d.
She waited for several minutes before she got her answer.
WHAT’S UP? YOU WANT TO COME WATCH TELEVISION?
CAN’T, she typed. BUSY. GOT A QUESTION.
U ONLY HAVE TO ASK.
I HAVE NEW DATA, BUT I CAN’T MAKE SENSE OF IT.
There was a pause. I’M GOING TO INSTALL SOMETHING ON YOUR DESKTOP.
She sighed. There was no sense in arguing with him. She watched as he assumed control of her workstation and installed a new link.
THIS IS A DATA ANALYTIC PROGRAM I WROTE. CLICK ON THE LINK.
She clicked on the link and a web page loaded. There was a single button on the top. She clicked the button and it opened a folder dialog box.
POINT IT TO THE TOP LEVEL OF EVERYTHING YOU WANT TO ANALYZE.
She clicked the folder dialog and pointed it to the location of the decrypted servers. A progress bar appeared and slowly filled until completion.
WHAT DOES THIS DO?
THERE’S A RUDIMENTARY AI THAT LOOKS FOR PATTERNS IN THE DATA. IT’S THE BASIS FOR THE THREAT SCANNING SOFTWARE I WROTE FOR THE VIDEO CAMERA SURVEILLANCE PROGRAM.
When the upload finished, a graphical representation of icons began to swirl, each icon linked by a spiderweb of black lines.
HOW LONG WILL IT TAKE?
A FEW HOURS. FEED IT MORE DATA AND YOU’LL GET BETTER RESULTS.
She thought about that for a moment, then directed the program to another folder containing the search data for bio-equipment. The progress bar slowly filled and the program continued to churn.
THANKS, DEWEY.
The program finished with a soft chime and Karen clicked on the link to expand the results. When the picture finished loading, her mouth dropped.
The program worked.
She pored over the results, becoming more excited as she dug deeper, until finally messaging for Eric to meet her in the conference room with Sergeant Clark.
She stood and walked through the War Room, concentrating so hard on the output of Dewey’s program that she almost walked into the glass door.
“Karen? You okay?” Sergeant Clark asked.
She turned and found him standing behind her, face full of concern. “I’m fine.”
“You almost walked into the door, and you’re not even holding your coffee cup,” Clark offered before opening the door and holding it for her. “Clearly something’s up.”
They entered the conference room and were soon joined by Eric. “Please tell me you found something,” Eric said, looking haggard as he took his seat.
“What do you know about Biopreparat?” she asked.
He squinted, then his face lit up in recognition. “The Soviet bioweapon research company? I’ve heard of it. They shut down years ago.”
“That’s right,” Sergeant Clark joined in. “They closed up in the nineties. My first job for the Office was tracking the closure of their facilities.”
Karen had worked for the Office for almost seven years, much of it spent working hand in hand with Todd Clark, but she forgot that his service with the Office predated her own.
The man rarely spoke of himself. He was an omnipresent inhabitant of the War Room, calmly guiding the analysts in their work and the ongoing missions, neatly attired in his Army uniform — unusual, since few in the underground base wore uniforms, most preferred fatigues — his light brown hair neatly trimmed. She liked Sergeant Clark, but more importantly, she respected him.
“Did you hear of a facility in Feofilivka?” she asked.
He thought for a moment, then shook his head. “That doesn’t sound familiar.”
“Officially it never existed,” she said. “It’s in the eastern Ukraine, near the border. The Ukraine has no love for the Russians, not after the split, and they weren’t eager to advertise a weapons lab. I checked the records and there were only vague hints of Feofilivka. It wasn’t doing major research like the ones in Yekaterinburg or Stepnogorsk. The facility was abandoned and never received money or attention from the US, not like the others. The scientists there weren’t the cream of the crop, so there was no attempt at recruitment by terrorist cells. It just… faded away.”
“Let me guess,” Eric said. “It’s active.”
She nodded. “Right. Truckloads of equipment have recently been delivered. Some of the former scientists started regularly depositing small sums of money. The Office never noticed. It was all done through shell corporations, but with the data we recovered from the servers in Seoul—”
Eric smiled. “You found the trail of breadcrumbs.”
“There’s more,” she said. “I have a name. It was buried in sales records in Europe, but the organizer of this mess is named Liu Kong.”
“Liu Kong?” Eric asked. “What do we know about him?”
Karen typed on her keyboard and a profile soon emerged on the wall screen. “Liu Kong. He’s Chinese. I found a passport entry from 1998 where he entered Australia with — and get ready for it — Wong Yuan. Nothing since. He’s probably been using assumed names. If the age on his passport was correct, he’s now thirty four. The records weren’t digitized. We have no picture. I expanded my search and found Liu Kong is listed as the CEO of a dozen companies, all shells.”
“What about Feofilivka?” Eric asked.
“It’s been refurbished,” she said. “I’m sure of it. The shell corporations purchased centrifuges, refrigeration units, spectrometers, DNA sequencers, and racks of computers… everything they need to do heavy-duty bioengineering. I ran the equipment list past Doctor Elliot. He said if they did basic prep on the MV Rising Star, it would only take a few days for them to complete their work, depending on what they were brewing up.”
Eric shook his head, his face hard. “Sergeant Clark, tell Taylor Martin I want wheels up in thirty. First stop is Chicago. Valerie Simon has accepted my offer to join the Office. Next, we’ll pick up Deion and Mark in China, then on to Seoul to get Nancy and John before we arrive in the Ukraine.”
Clark stood and saluted, then left the conference room to make it happen.
“You’re going, aren’t you?” Karen asked before she could stop herself. Eric turned to her and she felt a warmth through her body. She wanted nothing more than to sleep with him, one last time, but she saw the way he looked at her.
Eric was becoming emotionally involved, and it would end badly for him. He approached until he was close, and she felt the heat radiating from his body. She shook her head and said, “That’s not a good idea,” before he could touch her.
Surprised, he took a step back. “Why?”
“You need to find someone you can love, someone who’ll love you back. I’m not that woman.”
His jaw clenched and he shook his head. “I don’t see how you can be so unemotional.”
She sighed. It was definitely time to call it off. “Boss, you need your head in the game. I thought I was helping, but I think I was distracting you.”
“You were helping,” Eric insisted. He turned and sat down heavily in his chair. “This place is, well, stressful is too light a word. When we’re together, it relaxes me. I think more clearly.”
She smiled. “I’ll always be here for you, boss. You know that.”
He nodded wearily. “I know, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it.”