Smith was surprised at the depth of his disappointment. The image-search software was his only hope. “Is that software looking for the entire photo?”
“Yes. I told you, it looks for a pixel match.” Marty sounded slightly frustrated himself at Smith’s ignorance.
“Can you focus it on her face and search for that section alone?”
Smith heard Marty’s raspy breathing through the phone. “The software does that already.”
“Can you make it search for her photo in areas that aren’t already included in their database?”
“Maybe.”
“Can you try?”
“Okay, but I’m going to have to alter the registry. That’s going to take some time.”
“I really need this. I’m afraid the woman is in danger. There must be a photo of her face on the Internet, just not this particular photo.”
“She looks like she runs a company or something,” Marty said. “I really like her face, but she looks angry.”
“Maybe ‘determined’ is a better word?”
“No. Angry. Like she’s mad about something. She’s not smiling. Women usually smile a lot.” Marty surprised him again. As long as Smith had known him he hadn’t commented on the social aspect of anyone else. Yet he still had it wrong. The woman did not look angry.
“Thanks for helping me.”
“I always help you,” Marty said, in a matter-of-fact way.
Smith hung up feeling a bit more optimistic than before. He abandoned his search, logged into his e-mail, and read a note from Russell informing him that the refrigerator swab had arrived at George Mason. He called her. “Care to join me? We can look at the swab together.”
“You’re on.”
“Can you pick me up at the Four Seasons? In an armored car? I’m surrounded by reporters all waiting to get my photo.”
“I’ll be happy to pick you up, but how about I leave the armored car parked and use my own. Last I heard no one needed bulletproof glass to ward off a camera.”
“I’d really appreciate it if you came in an armored car.”
Russell was silent a moment. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”
“I was entering the back door of the Four Seasons when someone shot at me. They missed. I feel the need for more protection.”
“If Covert-One’s involved, perhaps you should let me know as well. We can pool our resources.”
“I’ll bear it in mind. But for now, I’m feeling a bit like a target.”
“I’ll bring a car and an Uzi. Will that make you feel better?”
“You have no idea.”
Twenty minutes later Russell called from the lower-level parking lot.
“I’m in a black sedan parked directly in front of the parking garage elevator. The passenger door will be ajar. When the elevator doors open, just jump in.”
Smith changed from his uniform back to his black civilian clothes. The different attire might buy him a couple of seconds if the attacker was watching for a man in uniform. He wished that he had a hat and sunglasses to help disguise his face. He grabbed the car key and laptop, and took the elevator to the parking level, bypassing the lobby and emerging into a dank lower level that consisted of concrete and autos. It smelled like damp earth and exhaust fumes. A black sedan, its door open, idled in front of him. He ducked into the passenger seat and slammed the door behind him. The car started moving the second the door engaged.
Russell turned to look at him. Her blond hair was longer than he remembered and streaked with bleached strands among the golden ones, as if she’d been out in the sun. Her brown eyes were arresting on someone with such light-colored hair, and when she smiled at him, she seemed genuinely happy to see him. His heart clutched a bit at that. Perhaps General Randolph was right. He did have people who cared about him.
“It’s good to see you. I‘m glad you’re all right,” Russell said, as if she’d read his thoughts.
“It’s good to see you too.”
She nodded and directed her attention to driving, pulling up to a gated exit and honking. The gate went up and they drove out of the lot into the late afternoon light. Smith scanned the area, looking for possible snipers, but he doubted he’d actually spot anything. Good snipers wouldn’t set up in a place where they could be located.
“Did you bring the Uzi?” Smith said, keeping his voice light. Russell pointed a thumb to the backseat. Smith twisted to look. An Uzi lay there. “I thought you were joking.”
Russell shook her head. “I never joke about guns.”
“Is this a company car?”
“Yes. One of the fleet we have at our disposal.” She gave him a sideways glance. “You want to tell me what’s up? The Grand Royal is a long, long way from here and yet you’re targeted as you walk into the hotel.” He told her about the photos and Covert-One’s ongoing attempts to find both the woman and Howell.
“Have you seen or heard from Howell?” he asked. Russell shook her head.
“Not at all, but that isn’t unusual. We’re not in casual contact.”
“I’m not thrilled that Dattar is out there somewhere. Feels dangerous and feels like he’s targeting me, both there and here, but to arrange a second hit so far from the first and so quickly would imply that he’s a bigger player than I think. ”
Russell sighed. “I agree. His sphere of influence never seemed to reach this far, but it’s dangerous to have him running free. Half the agencies in Europe are looking for him, but they’ve found nothing. He’s vanished.” Smith gazed out the passenger window and thought about the woman, the coolers, and Dattar.
Fifty minutes later they turned into George Mason University’s laboratory. Stepping out of the car left Smith feeling too exposed, so he jogged to the modern entrance. Russell caught up behind him.
His friend, Professor Jinchu Ohnara, met them at the entrance to the biochemical lab. In his sixties, slight, with a full head of gray hair, and bright brown eyes, Ohnara was the leading genetic researcher on the East Coast. His research into DNA parsing was praised the world over. Smith had worked with him on a short-term project while a student at UCLA and still relied on him when he needed a fresh perspective on established science.
“Very happy to see you made it out of the hotel alive,” Ohnara said as he shook Smith’s hand.
“Did everyone see me hanging from the ledge?”
Ohnara nodded. “Everyone.”
“My fifteen minutes of fame. May I introduce Randi Russell? She works in the public health sector of the government.” Smith delivered the cover identity Russell had suggested.
“A pleasure. I can see why a public health official would be interested in this particular bacteria.”
Russell frowned. “That sounds ominous. You found something disturbing?”
Ohnara nodded. “Well, it’s something that can be detrimental to the public’s health in certain parts of the world.” He looked at Smith. “When the specimen arrived, I took a look at it. I think you should too.” He waved Smith into the lab. A slight scent of isopropyl alcohol hung in the air, the smell growing stronger as they stepped inside.
“You didn’t open it in the containment lab?” Smith had specifically requested that Ohnara alone handle the specimen and that he do it in a controlled setting.
“I did. When I was done I transferred the sample to a biosafety box, much like a glove box. It has its own airflow system. You won’t be handling it, merely looking at it.” Ohnara gave him a glance filled with speculation. “I handled it at the appropriate level for the avian virus. Is there a reason to take even higher precautions?”
“I’m not sure what it is. In this day and age…” Smith let his voice trail off.
Ohnara sighed. “You don’t have to tell me. Virulent, antibiotic-resistant bacteria will someday be the death of us all, I’m afraid, but I saw nothing that rose to the level of, say, the Ebola virus. You will, though, have to suit up.”