“All right. It’s indistinguishable from about a hundred little consulting companies that usually hover around the big defense contractors looking for scraps, usually because they have some Federal set-aside. Except this company isn’t a set-aside, and they have never subcontracted with a big company. In fact, I can’t find who pays them, but they seem to have about fifteen employees…most of whom have worked in the black world before.”

“Huh,” said Zeke. “So Elise isn’t working directly for the Agency…but indirectly…”

“Right,” answered Vinny. “These guys got ‘Separate Cell’ and ‘Plausible Deniability’ written all over them. There’s probably only one guy in the company that really knows what’s going on and reports to their masters. The rest just do what the nice people that are paying them gobs of money tell them to.”

Daniel said, “That means when she said ‘company,’ she meant a real company, not ‘Company,’ not Agency. That means we actually don’t even know who they are working for. Could be anyone in the black world – could be any government agency, could be a corporation, a rich individual…could be one canny operator that got ahold of this treatment, and is trying to develop it or market it or whatever…Vinny, what kind of people do they have working for them?”

“Umm…if you can believe their online resumes, six bureaucratic types and six personal security specialists. Those are your door-kickers and shooters. All of those have military or law enforcement backgrounds…Special Forces, Ranger, Airborne, Force Recon, sniper…Texas Ranger…if the dossiers are real, a bunch of badasses.” He tossed a pile of stapled papers down on the table. “Figured you’d want to see these.”

“Anyone named Jenkins?” Daniel asked.

“Yeah,” he picked one of the packets up. “Jervis Andrew Jenkins the Fourth, listed as a program manager. Yale grad, BA business, MBA, Skull and Bones, recruited by these guys straight out of school. Old money, family has investments and concerns up in Connecticut and Massachusetts. Lumber, shipping, some other stuff. Probably being groomed for bigger and better things.” Vinny looked smug.

“Ah. That’s not good.” If he had to kill someone, Daniel thought, why did he have to have a rich and powerful family?

Vinny shrugged, looked down for a moment. In fact, unless Daniel missed his guess, Vinny was holding something out on them, savoring the drama and triumph.

Daniel looked at Spooky, raised an eyebrow.

He got it, shifted his stance that conveyed impatience to his nephew.

“Okay, here’s the kicker,” Vinny continued hurriedly. “The other two employees are scientists as well. So we got a microbiologist – Elise Wallis – a virologist, and an epidemiologist.”

“Only three. Ah’m only a po country doctah,” Daniel put on his best hick accent, “but that sounds like they were working on the XH. And that narrows it down to some kind of germ. A virus, or other disease pathogen. And I’d have a tough time believing that a team of just three people could come up with something like this, though stranger things have happened.”

Spooky spoke up. “Then they did not make it. They study it. Experiment. Decode. Perhaps replicate. Try to fix it, to get rid of the problems.”

Daniel nodded.

“Where are they located?” asked Zeke.

“They have a Norfolk, Virginia office address.”

Daniel felt a surge of relief, and he could see that Zeke had gotten it too. “That means we’re not going up against a well-funded, well-supported Agency effort. It’s something off to the side, something maybe they don’t even know about. Just a couple people probably, maybe only one, and like all bureaucracies, they have been slow to realize what they got. And maybe INS, Inc. hasn’t seen fit to tell them. Maybe their top guy – who’s the CEO?”

“Raphe K. Durgan. Medical doctor, biologist. Formerly of the USDA, at Plum Island Animal Disease Center.”

“And the Department of Homeland Security took over the island in 2003, with the USDA becoming a tenant,” Zeke chimed in.

“How’d you know that?” Daniel asked, surprised.

Zeke grinned. “You get all over in spec ops.”

Daniel shrugged. “Okay, smart guy. So he’s working on disease, maybe some black projects there, because you know the USDA ain’t the only people doing biological work on the island. Not with Homeland Security running the show. He gets recruited because he has the clearances and has worked on stuff, maybe anthrax or weaponized smallpox or something we’ve never heard of. He gets put in charge of the research effort in this little company because somebody doesn’t want it in the regular system. The heavies are there to keep control of things. Must be the same thugs I saw at the Iron Saddle.”

Daniel felt better and better about things, now that he believed this wasn’t an official effort. It was compartmentalized, maybe even rogue. And while the memory of executing Jenkins still pained him, it pained him less now that he knew Jenkins was off the reservation, maybe making up his own op as he went along. Probably read too many cheap spy novels. Unfortunately Jenkins ran into me. The old me.

I think the new me could have kept control.

One more little piece of the puzzle clicked into place, somewhere at the back of his mind, the part that worked unconsciously. He didn’t know what it was, he just knew it was working, and it would come up with something eventually.

Zeke replied, “That means we got a shot here. They don’t have the resources, unless their sponsor decides to call in some favors.” He looked at Daniel. “Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be careful. They probably put you on federal fugitive lists, no-fly lists, terrorism watch and report lists. But that’s routine, low-level threat. It means we got breathing room, and it means we might be able to extract your girl Elise, get her away clean and pump her for everything she knows. Figure our next move from there.”

My girl Elise. Funny how that sounds good, though I only spent maybe fifteen minutes with her total. They all stared at each other for a few seconds, then Daniel stuck his hand up. “I’m in.”

“Me too,” said Vinny.

Spooky grunted affirmatively.

Zeke grinned even wider. “God, it feels good to be operational again.”

“On your own dime, though,” Daniel said wryly.

“If this thing turns out to be real and usable and helps Ricky, I’d sell everything I have to get it.”

Daniel knew Zeke was dead serious. He loved that kid.

“Well, I got twenty grand you can use.” He took out and tossed Zeke the packet of cash.

“Sweet.”

-9-

Elise ran the gene sequence simulation for the ninth time. It showed what every other test had – that the virtue effect couldn’t be separated from the other parts of the healing effect. If the virus healed the body, it would heal the brain. If the brain was healed, the mind tended to follow. Old dysfunctional patterns might stay for a while, like a drug addict cured of the physical addiction but remembering the habits – but sooner or later those evils would be cleansed. A healthy mind just wouldn’t let people be comfortable with their cruel, hurtful, antisocial ways anymore. Oh, it wasn’t a perfect cure for bad behavior, but it would take a strong will and a really good reason to override the virtue effect, the strengthened conscience.

Durgan was just a medical doctor, and a rather out-of-date one at that. His real skills were bureaucratic and political. He wasn’t current enough on genetics and virology to see the truth that she saw: that what he wanted was impossible. It simply couldn’t be done by manipulating the virus. The only approach was to somehow counteract it within the brain and endocrine system, the main regulators of mood, emotion, ethics – conscience.

She had thought of many possibilities – electrodes that stimulated the medulla oblongata, the seat of anger and aggression, or heavy doses of stimulants, or manipulating blood sugar, or psychotropics – but nothing that was reliable, or permanent.