Death and The Divide (7 page)

“Annaria Moralez,” she said and hesitantly extended her hand. Did he condone actions like the bomb in Omaha?

“Linc Butler,” he responded, his blue eyes frank and clear. He offered a firm but brief handshake.

She searched for something to say. “You’re the one who investigated the whale massacre, right?”

“Yes. My team is out of the University of Alabama in Birmingham.” He nodded toward Louis. “I’ve followed Dr. Manson’s work for many years. I understand you work with him?”

“I do. We’re at the main university complex in Omaha.”

He frowned. “You had an unfortunate event there yesterday, I understand.”

She bristled, her limbs stiffening. “That’s right, a suicide bomber. My sister was killed in the explosion.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that.” His expression fell into lines of concern. “Do they know who did it?”

She started to deliver a sharp reply, but thankfully, Dr. Manson took that time to call the meeting to order. She might have made a heated comment she didn’t need to voice. She pressed her lips together and unrolled the portable keyboard for her tech pad to cover her unease.

“…imperative that we devise a solution soon,” Louis was saying. “I know from the North’s side, our government is willing to put forth a wide array of resources to solve the mystery of these deaths before they spread further.”

Linc joined the conversation as he passed data chips to the Northerners. “The south is prepared to share information, as well. This is the research we have so far on the whales, seagulls and, um, fishermen.”

She took the chip and inserted it into the data port of her pad. The contents scrolling on her screen pleasantly surprised her. The information was well organized. Her preconceived notions of the South improved a bit. Maybe they weren’t as backward as she’d assumed.

“I’ll save you some time and effort by coming to the main point of our findings,” Linc said in a grim voice. “The deaths were caused by cannibalism, not crazed attacks as we first thought.” He paused as gasps circled the room. “This became most evident in the human remains, and when we re-examined the animals, the findings were consistent. We’re now looking into the digestive systems to determine common food sources that might have been contaminated, but we need help with parasitology identification.”

Dr. Manson nodded. “We’d be happy to take a look at the specimens. Will you be able to provide us with tissue?”

“Of course. I’ve brought a selection of cryo-sealed samples for you.” He withdrew a silver metal box about six inches square from his backpack. “This is contained using international protocol GY0-450,” he said as Annaria hesitated to take it from him. “I assure you, it’s safe.”

Manson jerked his chin toward the box, and she slowly relieved Linc of the box.

“If we have parasites, I’ll examine them for possible medical cures already in existence.” Dr. K rumbled in his baritone. “We have one of the most advanced epidemiology departments in the world.”

Dr. Borman’s face had paled at the mention of cannibalism. “This makes the situation even more grave, in my opinion. If a virus or parasite is involved, cannibalism will make the spread exponential. It would be possible for an organism to spread through blood-to-blood contact.”

A Dr. Peters from the South nodded. “No only that, if there are survivors of one of these events, then the deaths will begin in non-infected victims as the infected try to eat them.”

The discussion turned to ideas for containment in the event of survivors, but Annaria’s thoughts remained focused on the samples. The sooner she could examine them the better. Her fingers itched to open the box and start the process. For the first time since yesterday, her enthusiasm for research returned.

“Dr. Manson, if the conversation is moving on to logistics of containment, it might be prudent for me to take these to my room and begin scanning,” she said.

“Good idea,” he replied, and the others murmured consent. “Identifying the cause of this deviant behavior is the main focus at this point.”

She placed the box in her backpack and stood. Forcing a smile at her table companion, she said, “Thank you, Dr. Butler. I appreciate your forethought in bringing these. I’ll start work on them right away.”

“You have a portable scanner?” His brows shot up.

“Yes, we developed one a couple years ago. It comes in handy in remote areas,” she said. Apparently the South hadn’t developed such a device. Technology was an area the South needed help from the North, just like the North needed more agriculture from the South. T.M. Rominoff had promoted sharing of this nature before his attack.

She headed for her room, passing through the four checkpoints. Though they had checked her an hour ago, she still had to provide her I.D. and go through the scanning process to re-enter her own country. Such stringent security made her question again how a person like the suicide bomber had passed The Divide. Maybe secret tunnels or bribes to gate officials let people cross without processing? She shivered, frightened to think of more attacks like the one that killed her sister.

When she reached her room, she set up her scanner on the desk and carefully opened the metal box. She breathed a sigh of relief at the GY0-450 seal on the clear sample chips arranged in the box amid padded dividers. She lifted one labeled
whale heart
, inserted it into the scanner, and entered the parameters of the search on the screen. Thirty-two other slides waited in the box. Now the wait. 

Chapter Seven

Linc had restrained the sarcastic comment that sprang to his lips when the Northern woman hesitated to take the sample box. Did she really think Southerners didn’t know how to properly seal contaminated samples? Typical for what he expected of these people. Like he’d carry around a bunch of unprotected tissue.

Dr. Skinner, their side’s infectious disease expert, had shared a sympathetic glance with him when it happened. He hated to react to stereotypes, but damn, the idea of the superior, condescending Northerner seemed pretty appropriate.

He kept his cool, however. In the field of parasitology, they really did know more than the South. Their own Dr. Peters was no match for the advancements of the North. Dr. Manson was considered the foremost authority not just in the North, but in the world. So Linc would have to tolerate the snooty assistant. Still, her sister’s death might influence her mindset. No doubt she lumped Southerners together like most Northerners, and assumed they were to blame.

After mapping out a containment strategy and a protocol for investigating future occurrences, the committee took a break to communicate the plan to their respective governments for immediate implementation. A new incident could occur at any time.

He headed to the lodging floor with Dr. Helen Quentin, their chief epidemiologist, while Dr. Skinner waited to have his pistol returned.

“That went better than I expected. Dr. K actually acted cordial about sharing information once we have an organism,” she said, then smirked. “Although they are quite…diverse. All they were missing was an albino.”

He scowled. He hated that sort of thinking. The whole racism issue in the South didn’t fit with his own personal beliefs, especially because of his brother. Thank God, Peter had immigrated to the North, so he’d escaped gay persecution. Peter had been very happy in his new home until his death last year. Regardless, he still missed his twin every single day. “They’re experts in their fields. That’s what matters.”

“Of course. I didn’t—”

“Linc, I need to speak with you. Got a minute?” Dr. Skinner interrupted, jogging to catch up as they entered the lounge area of the lodging floor.

Dr. Quentin hurried off, her face glowing red.

Linc paused. “What’s up, Tom?”

The other man glanced over his shoulder and took Linc’s elbow. “Let’s go to my room.”

Once inside, Tom closed the door. He motioned to two molded chairs beside the bed. “I had a communication from Barton Fisk right before we entered the meeting room.”

“Did he have more instructions from the president?” Fisk had briefed Linc and the other members of the team with instructions on what the government did and did not want relayed to the Northerners.

“Not from the president, from DOI.”

A ball of dread formed in his stomach at mention of the secretive agency. “What does the Department of Intelligence have to do with this situation?”

“They want us to look for a person who could become a sympathetic contact, someone from whom we might get inside information about the North.”

“You can’t be serious,” Linc said, anger rising. “This is a crisis. We don’t have time to play spying games.”

Tom raised a hand. “I know, I know. But this is a golden chance. Interaction between the two countries is rare. Fisk wants one of us to seek a more personal relationship with one of the Northerners. A connection that can continue after this problem is over.”

“This is ridiculous,” Linc exclaimed. “I can’t believe we’re thinking about espionage when humanity is under attack. What do you think is going to happen? We’re here to work, not fraternize.”

“Calm down.” Tom made a patting motion with his hands and lowered his voice. He hesitated, then his expression hardened. “You need to get on board with this, Linc. The government is putting a lot of emphasis on allowing this interaction, and they want something out of it in return.”

“Like survival of the human species isn’t sufficient?”

“That’s enough.” Tom pointed a finger at him, anger flushing his round cheeks. “I think you and that assistant to Dr. Manson have a possibility of interpersonal chemistry. I suggest you work on developing that relationship if you want to stay on the good side of the DOI.”

Linc knew a threat when he heard one. The DOI had the ability to turn his life into a nightmare. Surveillance. Harassment of friends and colleagues. Intervention in his career opportunities. The list was endless. “Why me?”

Tom blinked, the redness of ire fading from his cheeks. “You’re about the same age, single, you have similar scientific interests. Not to mention, she’s likely lonely and in need of support following the death of her sister. You’d be a great shoulder to cry on.”

The ball in his stomach turned to ice.  “What do you know about her sister?”

Tom’s gaze shifted away. “It was in the news. It’s no secret.”

“I see.”

“Look, just make a friend of her. That’s all they’re asking. Your cooperation would be greatly appreciated down the road.”

He chewed the inside of his cheek to maintain his composure. Offers of this sort from the DOI did not allow a choice. He had to at least appear to attempt compliance. If Miss Moralez didn’t respond, he could do nothing about that, and they couldn’t blame him. Given their interaction so far, he didn’t think she’d have interest beyond professional interaction with a person from the South. The barely concealed haunted look in her eyes indicated she was still emotionally raw from her sister’s death. He didn’t blame her.

A sinking coldness invaded him as his gaze settled on a small silver disc, no bigger than the end of his thumb, cleverly embedded in the frame of a picture hung over the bed. He averted his eyes. Had he put himself in danger just now? He had more than himself to worry about. He had to protect the IPP.

“All right, I’ll try,” he said after a few moments. “But she didn’t strike me as seeking friendship from the South after what happened to her sister.”

Tom patted him on the shoulder, the lines of worry in his face easing. “That’s the spirit. Give it a try. That’s all you need to do. There’s no evidence a Southern person bombed her city. Offer her some comfort, ask about her interests, that sort of thing.”

Linc left and headed for his room, rubbing his face and replaying their conversation over and over. What damning things had he said, exactly? Why hadn’t he considered they would bug these rooms? He’d become isolated in a secure cocoon of academic freedom, where surveillance was rare. But now he’d entered the political arena in a big way.

He pushed open his door a little too hard, and it banged against the wall. Day one of this ordeal and he already tired of guarding his expression and words. Did no one recognize the seriousness of this situation? If cannibalism spread in a virus-like pattern, spying would be the last thing on anyone’s mind. They’d be fighting to stay alive. Still, he now had to make an appearance of enticing Miss Moralez into a more intimate relationship than mere colleague. He didn’t need the government keeping tabs on his movements.

His pad beeped, and he retrieved it from his backpack. An alert notified him that an encrypted SatNet group now existed for the attendees of this summit to communicate directly and keep everyone on the committee informed of developments. Both sides had sanctioned the private group to allow unhindered communication until this crisis passed. He pressed the “Accept” button and entered the password provided. He suspected someone from the North group had thought up this strategy.

He could use this to attempt direct contact with Dr. Manson’s assistant and convince the DOI he did his best to comply with their wishes. After a few seconds of pondering what to do, he entered a message to Annaria: “Any discoveries yet?”

He chewed his bottom lip, waiting. Maybe she wouldn’t reply. He rolled his shoulders and rubbed his neck while eyeing the screen. Already strung tight from the cannibalism problem, he now had to worry the DOI looked over his shoulder.

Ding.
A message popped up. He clicked on the link and let out a short breath. It was from her. “Nothing yet, but only up to slide five so far.”

It was a start.

***

Annaria removed the third slide and inserted the next one. Voices from the hall indicated the meeting had ended.

Before long, Louis entered her room. “How’s it going?”

“Routine. The slides are well prepared; I’ll say that much for them. There are no organisms out of place at this point.” She remained perched on her bed, the most comfortable place she’d found in this sparse room.

“We’ve set up a private SatNet group for the people on this committee to use for communication. It’s vital to keep everyone informed.”

“That’s a good idea.”

“What did you think of Dr. Butler?”

She narrowed her eyes. “He seems competent. Why are you asking?”

Louis paced to the small window of her room. “I’ve heard good things about him. I specifically requested him for the committee. I think he’ll be a reliable source of information.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means my sources think he’s not a hardline conservative. Probably because his twin brother was deported to the North as a teenager when his, um, sexual preferences became apparent. I’d bet Butler would be open to reason if this situation needs a level-headed thinker.”

“His brother is gay? How do you know that?”

“No big deal. The government provided me with background information on the South’s members. Unfortunately, his brother died last year.” He shifted on his feet and averted his gaze.

She crossed one leg over the other. “Is there something else you’re not telling me?”

“Only my own thoughts. I have a deep sense of dread that if politics comes into play on either side of The Divide, this could turn into a disaster. Knowing who we can trust to understand the significance of this problem will be important.”

The scanner beeped, and she rose to insert another slide. “This will be interesting. It’s tissue from the whale’s brain.”

“Good. Let me know at once if you find anything.” He hesitated then gave her one of his awkward pats on the shoulder. “Are you holding up okay?”

She ran her fingers through her tangled hair and returned to the bed. “I’m trying not to think about it.”

He started to say something then just nodded and left.

Her comm vibrated, and she took a deep breath. Her mother.

“Hello?”

“Ria? It’s Mom. I wanted to see if you were okay.”

“So far. We met with the Southern group this morning and now I’m analyzing some samples they gave us. How are you guys?”

“Your father handled the funeral arrangements this morning. I just couldn’t bear to talk about putting Lola’s genetic material in a vault.” A few sniffs interrupted. “It seems silly to be picking out the appropriate decorative container when I feel like my heart is going to explode.”

Annaria twirled one of her dark curls around a finger, a gesture from childhood that betrayed her anxiety. She could only imagine. Nothing at the cemetery supply would be right for Lola, anyway. She should have an original artistic piece to house her final remains. Something as unique as her.

“Mom, why don’t you look for something by a local artist? Lola would rather have that than some meaningless mass-produced receptacle.”

“I agree, but your father said because she had worked so few years, her memorial stipend would only cover the most basic costs.” Her mother’s voice broke on the last few words.

Annaria rested her head in one hand. That was her father, ever practical and by the rules. “Mom, pick out something Lola would have liked and I’ll pay for it. We have to think about the impact on Conner, too. Let him help you choose one. How’s he doing?”

Another couple sniffs. “He stayed home from school, of course. Mostly he’s been in the spare bedroom with the door closed. He keeps asking when you’re coming back.”

That cut into her heart like a jagged knife. “Can you call him to the comm so I can talk to him?”

“All right. Hold on.”

Silence stretched for long seconds. She accepted the invitation to the secure group that appeared on her tech-pad screen and entered the password. Then a message from Dr. Butler came through. That surprised her. She had the impression she had offended him when she hadn’t immediately accepted his samples. She would have reacted with the same hesitance if anyone she didn’t know offered her potentially toxic material. His inquiry seemed normal, though, she supposed.

“Aunt Ria?” Conner’s thin high voice came over the phone.

“Hey, buddy. I’ve been thinking about you all day. I’m so sorry I can’t be there right now. Did Gramma tell you what happened?”

“Yeah,” he said. “But I wish you were here. When are you coming back?”

“I’m not sure. We’re trying to figure out what happened to make some animals and men turn violent. It’s very serious. You understand that, don’t you? I wouldn’t have left if we didn’t face an absolute emergency.”

“I guess. I just miss being at your apartment with you and Mom. It was the best home I ever had.”