"And trussing up that poor boy in the middle of a burned-out cornfield and branding him with that mark." Georgina shook her head sadly. "It had to be a warning against what that corporation was doing out there, its research into genetically modified foods. With my background in bioengineering, I'm well aware of the controversy surrounding GM foods. There's a growing movement against such manipulation of nature. And while it mostly stems from fear and misinformation, it's also compounded by the lax government supervision of this exploding industry. I can go into more detail..."

Painter stopped across from her. "For now, let's concentrate specifically on how it might relate to this case."

"That's easy enough. The anti-GM movement is especially strong in Africa. The countries of Zambia and Zimbabwe recently banned all food aid that contained GM foods, even though millions in both countries faced starvation. Basically it was a foolish policy of better dead than fed. Such lunacy is rampant and growing. I believe that the destruction of the Red Cross camp was meant as an attack on Viatus." She pointed to the symbol on the screen. "And I think Adam's description of the etymology of that symbol supports that."

Painter began to understand. "A symbol that represents the earth."

Georgina firmed her voice to match her conviction. "Whoever did this believes they're protecting the earth. I think we're dealing with a new and militant ecoterrorist group."

Kat's brows pinched together. "It does make a certain amount of sense. I'll have my sources concentrate on that angle. See if we can't figure out who these terrorists are and where they're based."

Painter turned back to Adam Proust, whose insight had offered a place to start. "We cut you off. Is there anything you wanted to add?"

"Just one more thing. About the quartered circle and the spiral. The two symbols were powerfully important and significant to the pagans of northern Europe. Especially the Druids. In fact, when the Nordic regions were converted to Christianity, the symbols became incorporated into the new faith. The Druid cross grew to become the Celtic cross used today."

Adam tapped a new image onto the screen, extending the vertical line of the pagan symbol to form a Christian cross.

"Likewise," Adam continued, "the spiral came to represent Christ, symbolizing his passage from life to death and finally his rebirth."

"And the significance of this?" Kat asked, impatient, plainly anxious to follow the bread crumbs left by Georgina's words.

But Painter recognized where Adam might be heading with this last assessment. He asked the cryptologist, "So you don't think this ecoterrorist group is based in Africa?"

He shook his head. "The quartered circle, while it can be found in some African cultures, mostly represents a sun symbol rather than the earth. I think we should be directing any inquiries toward northern Europe. Especially since the Viatus Corporation's headquarters are in Oslo, Norway."

Georgina smiled. "So in other words, we're looking for a bunch of pissed-off Druids."

Adam didn't return her smile, only shrugged. "There is a strong neopagan revival throughout Europe. And in fact, many of these groups are quite old. The Druid Circle of the Universal Bond. The Ancient Order of Druids. Both trace their organization back to the 1700s, while other groups claim an even longer heritage. Either way, the movement has been growing steadily of late, and a few sects are definitely militant in their beliefs and very anticorporation. I think that's where any investigation should concentrate. In northern Europe."

Kat nodded, if a bit stiffly, already planning in her head.

Painter circled back to the front of the conference room. "I think that gives us a good jumping-off point. If you'll all-"

His cell phone rang in his pocket, cutting him off. Painter lifted a hand, asking for a moment, took out his BlackBerry, and checked the ID. It was his assistant. Painter felt a twinge of misgiving. He had asked not to be disturbed unless it was an emergency.

"What is it, Brant?"

"Sir, operations just phoned in. There's been a flurry of 911 emergency calls coming out of Princeton. It seems a firefight has broken out at the Carl Icahn Laboratory."

Painter kept his face passive. The lab was where Monk Kokkalis and John Creed had been headed. The pair should've reached Princeton an hour or so ago. Painter deliberately kept his gaze away from Kat, Monk's wife.

"Get local authorities on the line and satellite feed up," Painter said, feigning more irritation than alarm. "I'll be right up there."

He lowered the phone and faced the room. "Okay, you all know your duties. Let's get to it."

Painter turned on his heel and headed toward the exit.

He sensed Kat's gaze fixed on his back. She was suspicious, but until he knew more about the situation, there was no need to alarm her.

Especially since she was pregnant again.

6:45 P.M.

Monk led the others through the basement, keeping his pistol pointed forward. He only had ten rounds...and at least three assailants. Not good odds, especially with the others carrying snub-nosed machine guns. He dared not waste a single shot. He'd left a second magazine back in his briefcase, but he'd dropped the case outside Malloy's lab.

"Is there another way out of here?" he asked Andrea.

"No...but..." She searched up and down the hall. John Creed kept a hold on her elbow to keep her moving.

"But what?" Monk pressed.

"The lab building was constructed to be modular. To make it easier to change room configurations," she said in a rush, then pointed up. "There's a large maintenance level between floors. With catwalks for work crews."

Monk glanced at the ceiling. That might work. "Where's the closest access point?"

She shook her head, still struggling with shock. "I don't know..."

Monk stopped and grabbed her shoulder with his prosthetic hand. "Andrea, take a breath, steady your-"

Machine-gun fire blasted. A figure rounded the far end of the hallway, his gun blazing. Rounds tore into the floor and walls. Monk shouldered into Andrea and fired blindly down the hall, wasting precious ammunition. The gunman ducked momentarily away. Monk shoved the woman through the closest door. Creed bowled through after them.

The door led to a small anteroom. A second set of double doors stood directly in front of them.

"Go!" Monk yelled.

They piled through into the next room. Lights flickered on automatically and revealed a large space divided by rows of stainless-steel cages. The smell of animal urine and musky bodies struck Monk immediately. He remembered Andrea's description of the basement level's layout. This must be the lab's vivarium, where its research animals were housed. A dog barked from one of the back rows. Closer at hand, smaller bodies stirred-and some not-so-small bodies.

Along the bottom row of larger cages, potbellied pigs snorted and nosed the air. Some squealed and spun in circles. They were young, each about the size of a football, bringing new meaning to the term pigskin.

Monk pushed the others down the row. They had no way to barricade the door, and the gunman would be on them any moment.

"Is there another exit from here?" Monk asked Andrea.

She nodded and pointed across the room.

"Hurry."

Monk heard clanking behind him. He turned to see Creed flipping open the lower cages as he chased after them. In his wake, small black-and-pink bodies tumbled out of their cages. They scurried and danced, squealed and screamed. More and more pigs joined the fray.