Hard Road (26 page)

She knew that it was important not to convey tension or pressure. She needed to be authoritative, calm and reassuring. Like a trusted, reliable friend.

“That's great, Frank, you've got a better memory than me,” she joked.

Luntz smiled as he picked at the cuticles of his bitten fingernails.

“Now, Frank,” Meyerstein said. She shifted in her seat concentrating on making her voice softer and more empathetic. “Let's think back to why you wanted to see us in the first place. About your concerns on biosafety at your lab. Tell me about your work first of all. The FBI scientists, specialists in this area, will want to speak to you later. But for now, just fill me in so I'm up to speed.”

Luntz shook his head. “I'm real sorry, but that's classified.”

She could see how he was going to play it. “What's classified?”

“The work we were doing at the lab.”

Meyerstein leaned forward in her seat, a matter of inches from Luntz, and sensed his vulnerability. “Now listen to me and listen good. We're talking a possible imminent threat to national security, if you hadn't realised that already. And I'm not going to have you hiding behind security clearance, or some other bullshit. Do you want me to spell it out to you?”

There was fear in Luntz's eyes.

“Your colleague, the esteemed Lt Col Scott Caan, has gone missing. And I'm hearing three vials were taken from the lab you were responsible for. Do you know what that means?”

Luntz said nothing, looking at the floor.

“Maybe I'm not making myself clear. That means you will be facing a near certain criminal investigation into the lax security systems you had at your lab. You have put the security of the United States at grave risk. Do you understand me?”

Luntz bowed his head and nodded quickly.

“So, I'm going to ask you again, what the hell are we dealing with?”

Luntz stayed quiet.

“It's your choice. You either tell me everything, or, you're gonna face a long, long time in jail.” Meyerstein leaned back in her seat knowing she was playing a high-risk strategy. “Your choice. What's it gonna be?”

Luntz went quiet for nearly a minute, occasionally biting his lower lip. Eventually he took a deep breath and spoke, voice as quiet as a mouse. “I hear what you're saying. It's just that the project is very, very secretive.”

Meyerstein smiled. “I'm very discreet. Whenever you're ready.”

A long silence opened up before he spoke in a hushed whisper. “My colleague, Scott Caan, and I have been working for years trying to learn as much as possible about the origins of the 1918 Spanish Flu pandemic. It killed at least twenty million people worldwide. I was part of the laboratory team, led by Dr Jeffrey Taubenberg, who resurrected the killer flu.”

Meyerstein nodded, not wanting to hurry him unduly. She fixed her gaze on him for a few moments. “I remember reading about that. Can you describe the broad-brush process to me, just so I've got a better idea what we're talking about?”

“We used a highly complex computer program which perfectly matched the Ribonucleic acid, also known as RNA – which is one of three major macromolecules that are essential for all life – and DNA structures. In effect, the complete genome of the 1918 influenza virus was known. But my work – along with Scott Caan – was in the pursuit of anti-viral drugs and vaccines as well as developing a new hybrid strain of 1918 Spanish flu.”

The word
hybrid
seemed to stick in her head. “You were developing a new
hybrid
strain?” she repeated.

“This is allowed under the Biological Weapons Convention which was signed in 1972. Article 1 allows exceptions for medical and defensive purposes in small quantities.”

Meyerstein nodded as the full magnitude of what she was dealing with hit home. It didn't make any sense. How could it be justified to try and recreate such a dangerous eradicated strain that could wreak unforeseen havoc if released, either deliberately or accidentally? But she knew that wasn't her concern. “Was this hybrid strain as deadly as the original 1918 Spanish Flu?”

“Four-fold. It was given the highest security classification. The Pentagon was funding the whole thing. We all had to have a higher security clearance to protect the program's highly sensitive information.”

Meyerstein nodded. She knew a security clearance application would have had to be submitted to the Department of Defense for review and consideration. But she felt a growing mix of anger and disbelief that a killer virus was now out of the laboratory setting. “I see. Please, go on.”

“Three months ago, we finally created this new, more virulent, strain. We'd worked for years. In the last few months, we were both working very long hours.”

“Was it taking its toll?”

“We were both exhausted, but we both had a Pentagon deadline to meet. We were verifying procedures and analysing all the data. It was coming together perfectly, just as I had envisaged.”

“Tell me: I guess if you're working closely with someone for so long, in such tight conditions, there must have been tensions. Did you notice anything out of character?”

“Nothing. The one thing that stuck in my mind was that he hardly showed any discernible signs of stress. He seemed to work well under pressure.”

“So, there were no behavioral traits to indicate anything adverse, or out of the ordinary from him or anyone on your team?”

“He was quiet, but he had always been quiet. I'd always tried to ensure a happy and cohesive working environment, and he was very much part of that. He wasn't the life and soul of the party, but that was just him. He was a scientist.”

“OK, just to clarify, Scott Caan was not acting out of character. That was his natural persona, right?”

“Indeed.”

“So, what happened to make you want to contact us?”

“If I can just fill you in on the lead-up to my concerns. It was all going swimmingly. Three weeks ago or so, in late-November, we finally got preliminary results back which showed that the new anti-virals we had worked on were working with the hybrid flu we had created. It was a very satisfying moment. It means that if there is, God forbid, such an outbreak again, we would be well prepared with effective vaccines and anti-virals. And we are now starting to understand how pandemics form and cause disease.” A bead of perspiration on Luntz's forehead. “But then, the Pentagon, in the middle of all this, asked me to conduct a spot check. An inventory.”

“Was this unusual?”

“It was usually held at the start of each year, so I'd expected to do it in January, maybe February, so that wasn't ideal. I needed Scott to oversee this inventory, but he had called in sick. It wasn't like him. Three days later, he was still off. Ironically, some flu, or something. I tried to call him by phone, but there was no answer. So, as you can imagine, I was wondering where he was. I assumed he was in his bed. But I left numerous messages on his phone. This went on for another couple of days, until I decided to head out to his house. I had never been there before. No one had. He was very private. But still there was no answer. I thought it was a bit odd, but wondered if he hadn't just headed out for some fresh air. Later that day, back at the lab, I went to study the test results from the anti-viral test on my computer, and there was nothing there. Every computer file pertaining to our research was gone.”

Meyerstein nodded. “But this was backed up to secure servers, I imagine.”

“It was. But when I checked, it was all gone. Nothing on the backup. I thought I was going mad. It didn't make any sense. I couldn't think straight. This was years of work, straight down the pan. Anyway, I called his home phone but it was still ringing out, as was his cell phone. Then I decided to do the inventory myself. If nothing else, as a basic security procedure. We have tens of thousands of items stored in the freezer. And it showed a discrepancy.”

“What kind of discrepancy?”

“The actual stocks didn't match the numbers we thought we had. So it all had to be counted again, for a second time. It took days. Eventually we found we were missing three vials of the hybrid 1918 Spanish Flu virus we had created, and the anti-virals and vaccine.”

Meyerstein felt her insides knot. The process took days? Why so long? “Did you speak to anyone else about these concerns?”

“I called my contact at the Pentagon, overseeing the project, and he told me to contact Dr Horowitz.”

Meyerstein shifted in her seat. “Horowitz? Why not the Pentagon?”

“They referred me to him because he was head of the WMD section of the FBI and had the highest level of security clearance, as he used to work within the Department of Defense.”

“Adam Horowitz?”

“Yes. I sent him an encrypted email saying I needed to speak to him urgently in person on a security matter at the lab. He was out of the country and arranged for me to be seen in person by his deputy at FBI HQ. And he arranged for a Special Agent to be assigned to me overnight at the St Regis, ahead of the early morning meeting.”

Meyerstein shifted in her seat. “So, you followed the correct procedure, right?”

“Absolutely.”

Meyerstein felt an anger build within her. She hadn't been made aware of this by Adam Horowitz or his team. Was this because of its special access status? She gathered her thoughts. “Are there any circumstances in which Caan or any member of your team would be allowed to take three vials of the virus, anti-virals and vaccines, out of the lab?”

Luntz's eyes filled with tears and he bowed his head as if in shame. “No circumstances at all.”

“Would it be stretching things too far to say the specter of bio-terrorism comes to mind?”

“I think that's a fair supposition.”

Meyerstein's mind was racing. “But, as it stood, all you had was circumstantial evidence that Scott Caan might have been responsible. That's all it was.”

“It doesn't end there. The final piece of the jigsaw fell into place after I discovered another anomaly.”

“What kind of anomaly are we talking about?”

“A lot of scientists were in and out of the freezers where we kept the new strain of the 1918 synthetic Spanish flu virus. So, it could have been any of them. But what was different about Scott was that I found out that he had returned to the lab on two separate occasions, in the middle of the night, a couple of days before he went missing. The security guard noted it down and said Scott was finishing some vital work.”

“Did you take this up with Scott?”

“I was unaware that he had even entered the lab in the middle of the night. I only found out when I checked the guard's logs. The guard didn't pass on that information to me at the time, assuming it wasn't important.”

“And you're quite convinced Scott Caan is the one?”

“I believe it's him. He knew the rules of the lab. Out of hours was only in the most exceptional of cases. It had to be authorised by me. And there was no good reason he had to be in there. And it categorically wasn't authorised by me to be in that lab in the middle of the night.”

“None at all?”

Luntz shook his head. “Never,” he said, dabbing his eyes.

“Frank, tell me about Caan. We need to build up a profile of him. What we have so far is very sketchy. I mean, where did he come from? Where did he live? What were his passions? Did you know him well?”

The tears were now running down Luntz's cheeks. “I can't believe this is happening. You know, you think you know somebody. With hindsight, I didn't know him at all. What can I say? He was recruited direct from MIT and assigned to the project. He came on board eighteen months after I had.”

“Why was that?”

“Well, first he had to get top secret clearance, and then when that came through, we had to wait for his Sensitive Compartmented Information clearance before he could begin work in the lab.”

“Tell me about him. His work.”

“From day one, his work was exceptional. Smartest guy MIT biological science department had seen for years. And he was one of the brightest guys in the operation. He also worked longer and harder and was more dedicated than anyone. He was always there.”

“Did he socialise? What about drinks after work? Bowling?”

“He didn't drink. He kept himself to himself.”

“What were his interests?”

Luntz went quiet for a few moments before he answered. “He was a keep fit guy. Ran every lunchtime. Ran to work. Guy was in good shape. Really good shape.”

“Tell me, when he hadn't turned up for work, was that out of character?”

“Absolutely. He was meticulous, rarely off sick, but if he was, he'd let me or one of his coworkers in the lab know either by phone or email.”

Luntz dabbed his eyes and sighed long and hard. She could see he was getting agitated.

“OK, let's just step back, if we can, for a few moments to try and get a handle on where we are. It's important that we establish the facts.”

Luntz nodded but said nothing.

“What I'm looking to do is build up a picture of this guy, your colleague. You say he was quiet, kept himself to himself, workaholic, keep fit, I get all that. What I'm missing is what he was like as a person. Did he talk politics? Did he read a newspaper and discuss an article? Something on CNN or Fox got his attention, perhaps?”

“You mean was he political?”

Meyerstein nodded.

“You know, it's interesting, looking back, he never expressed any views on anything.”

“No views at all? Why do you think that was?”