The Panic Zone (31 page)

Fort Detrick, Maryland

T
hat night, the ramifications of Gretchen Sutsoff's new creation dawned on Foster Winfield.

He turned to his colleagues Tolkman, Weeks and Kenyon, seated at the table in a small meeting room. They had worked nonstop, analyzing material transported by jet fighter from Sutsoff's secret lab on Deus Island. The four scientists sat in silence, then Kenyon said what everyone was thinking.

“She's insane.”

“This defies the science,” Tolkman said. “How did she do it?”

“Why did she do it?” Weeks asked.

“I'm responsible,” Winfield said. “I brought her in to Project Crucible.”

Major Powell entered the room carrying a briefing binder.

“They're all set in Washington.” Powell positioned a telephone console and speakers at the center of the table, keyed in several numbers and linked them to an emergency teleconference call with a spectrum of security agencies working on the new threat.

“Who've we got there?” a voice asked.

“Major Powell in Fort Detrick. With me are the four agency scientists who'd worked on Project Crucible.”

“Thank you. Everyone, identify yourselves when you speak, please. We'll get started with the chair of the meeting.”

“This is Lincoln Hunter, assistant to the National Intelligence director, the president's advisor. Time is an issue here, let's keep things simple and keep it moving. We'll go to the FBI. We have a suspect—a former agency scientist, Sutsoff, developing an attack. Updates, please.”

“Robert Lancer, FBI. She's a Bahamian national. We believe she'll attempt to enter the U.S. We've alerted Customs and Border Protection.”

“And if she's already here?”

“We're going out with a public fugitive alert as soon as possible.”

“And the target city for the strike, Lancer?”

“We have information suggesting it's New York. We suspect it could be the Human World Conference.”

“In Central Park?”

“Yes. We strongly urge consideration be given to canceling the event. We're working with the NYPD, the Port Authority and New York State Police.”

“Are we even close to this suspect's trail, Lancer?”

“We're working 24/7, assessing information obtained from Sutsoff's island lab, her residence, her staff and from the child-care center on Paradise Island. We believe a number of foreign families with children will be traveling to New York and could be involved in the operation. We're working with police agencies around the world.”

“Anything else?”

“We're analyzing new information on other potential players. A person of interest is Drake Stinson, a former employee with the agency, now based in Brazil with a law firm that has ties to the operation through illegal adoptions. Stinson may have knowledge of the bombing of the Café Amaldo in Rio de Janeiro. His last known whereabouts was Europe.”

“And the weapon? I understand Sutsoff's stolen something from Project Crucible and will turn it on us, is that correct?”

“Yes.” Winfield cleared his throat. “Foster Winfield here. I was the chief scientist on Crucible.”

“I've been briefed,” Hunter said, “but need you to tell me in simple terms, Dr. Winfield, what we've got, so I can brief the director. I understand Sutsoff's unleashed a new virus?”

“No, not exactly. It's complicated.”

“Simplify it, please, Doctor.”

“She's created a new super-lethal agent to attack DNA. She can manipulate it to work at a hyper rate to target any specific group, or combination of groups.”

“How?”

“We've just completed deeper analysis that shows evidence of molecular electronics and manipulation on a supramolecular nanoscale.”

“Which means?”

“She can control her new lethal agent using radio-frequency command via wireless technology, from a cell phone or computer.”

“But to do what, exactly? I still don't understand. If I were carrying this super Pariah V1 agent, infected as it were, wouldn't I be dead?”

“No, that's part of the sophisticated, unbelievable aspect of her engineering. The agent acts less like a virus and more like a dormant remote-controlled bomb.”

“How?”

“I could carry it and remain in perfect health, then transmit it to you or a thousand people through contact. Those people could continue transmitting it to others and so on, that's the virus-like aspect she's developed. But the agent would remain dormant as it were. Nothing would happen to anyone until Sutsoff activates the agent using remote manipulation. And she could target people with specific DNA characteristics. It would be like creating armies of micro
scopic lethal time bombs, transmitting them to a large group and then commanding them to detonate in everyone in that group according to the targeted DNA characteristic. Or put another way, targeting everyone in the group who has a 212 area code, or everyone who has a 212 area code with a 555 prefix and so forth.”

“Or anyone at all?”

“Yes, she can establish whatever range she likes.”

“I've seen the photos from the cruise-ship victim and the two victims in Nassau. They're gruesome. The potential here is apocalyptic.”

“Yes.”

“Mr. Hunter,” Lancer said. “While we do not have irrefutable evidence of a planned attack in New York, we strongly urge cancellation of the Human World event.”

“Agent Lancer, this administration does not govern by fear. You know as well as I that it will never allow potential threats to dictate its agenda. As you say, you do not yet have irrefutable evidence of a planned attack. You have not yet confirmed your suspect is in the country, or the city. There are many complications, many considerations,” Hunter said. “I need to know, what if Sutsoff succeeds in passing along this lethal agent but never activates it?”

“Nothing happens. The agent passes harmlessly through your system, like a placebo, in about twenty-four hours.”

“So how do we stop it?”

“We don't know yet.”

“We better find a way and fast. We expect over one million people to gather in less than twenty-four hours for the main event of the conference in Central Park. This morning, the Oval Office said the president and first lady will attend and greet as many people as possible.”

New York City

I
t was down to hours.

Robert Lancer checked his watch against the wall clocks.

Long before the sun rose over Manhattan, law enforcement for New York City notched up security for one of the largest peace-time gatherings in the city's history.

No word on the possibility of pulling the plug on the event.

Not far from the Brooklyn Bridge, on the eighth floor of One Police Plaza, Lancer had taken his place at Operational Command. The NYPD was the lead agency for the conference.

Now, it was coordinating with the FBI's Command Center at Federal Plaza and the city's Office of Emergency Management, which was on full alert for a biological attack. Other local, state and federal agencies were also bracing for a possible strike, and the U.S. Secret Service big-footed its role to protect the president. Security had been heightened over concerns arising from Gretchen Sutsoff's emerging threat.

It was 3:50 a.m.

The next security status meeting would start in ten minutes. Lancer was checking e-mails when his cell phone rang.

“Bob, it's Norris at Federal Plaza Command.”

“Go ahead.”

“Our embassy in Kuwait City says Drake Stinson's just been detained for questioning by Kuwaiti security.”

“Did he give them anything on Sutsoff?”

“No, they've had him for twenty minutes and will transmit the interview live. We're setting up to share it with Operational Command.”

“Is that it?”

“Yesterday Dutch police arrested a couple at Schipol in Amsterdam bound for New York, traveling with a two-year-old with a forged German passport. Under questioning they said they knew a Dr. Auden.”

“One of Sutsoff's aliases. They get anything more from them?”

“They're still in questioning. In France last night, police intercepted a couple with a toddler at de Gaulle. They were bound for New York. Their passports were suspect and the pair admitted knowledge of Auden in the Bahamas. Bob, there's talk she made a video.”

“A suicide video?”

“We don't know. But add the most recent couples detained to the others yesterday from Madrid, Hong Kong and Argentina, and we now have twelve couples linked to the doctor.”

“That's twelve out of the seventy we found in her computer files. Keep me posted, Norris. I have to go.”

* * *

The meeting commenced with updates and arguments over the best course of action.

“We have to pull the plug on the Central Park event,” a state official said. “If this is a significant threat, we have to shut it down.”

“Organizers are dead set against it,” said a woman from city hall.

“What about the president?” an NYPD official asked.

“The White House hasn't indicated yet if the president and first lady are pulling out,” the Secret Service official
said. “We're flowing all updates to the Oval Office. However, it's still a go. To answer the question that was raised at the last meeting, when the Pope celebrated Mass here, we had twenty-three real threats. Four were deemed significant and involved evidence of weapons and explosives. We thwarted all of them and the event went ahead without incident. Nothing made it into the press.”

“This is Johnson with Tactical. At our last briefing we were advised that this weapon could be remotely activated by wireless. Do we know what frequency range? Can't we jam it, or shut down towers, block satellites?”

“Captain Tillser, NYPD Comms. We're exploring that option with the NSA and wireless providers. Bottom line, if we go that route, we risk disrupting or disabling all emergency communications for police, fire, ambulance. It would render us useless.”

“Where are we on Sutsoff, Lancer?” The NYPD captain shot him a sour look. Lancer was checking the new message he'd received.

“We got her alert out to Customs and Border Protection and Interpol. The public alert goes to media this morning. Ahead of all that, we gave Interpol our intelligence for some seventy suspects we think are linked to Sutsoff and the Human World Conference. Several people around the world have been detained for questioning, including Drake Stinson, who at this moment is being questioned by police in Kuwait. Stinson is known to be a member of Sutsoff's secretive inner circle, a doomsday group known as Extremus Deus. He is a person of interest.” Lancer nodded to the large screen at the far end of the room. “I've just been alerted we're receiving video of his questioning in Kuwait, which we'll share with the task force now. Okay, Norris, send it through.”

Three seconds passed before Drake Stinson appeared on the screen.

“Is this live, real-time?” someone asked.

“Aside from a five-second delay, it's live,” Lancer said.

Stinson was seated at a table in a stark room across from the two men questioning him.

“Mr. Stinson, what can you tell us about Dr. Sutsoff's operation?”

“It's too late. She's crazy, you can't stop—”

Stinson grimaced.

“Mr. Stinson?”

Stinson's chair scraped and his body spasmed.

“Are you all right?”

Stinson wrapped his arms around his stomach and groaned. Agony spread over his face and his skin began to bubble as if corn were popping under the surface. Bloodstains blossomed on his shirt as his abdomen expanded.

“Oh, God!”

Stinson's eyes liquefied and he slid to the floor, bones and spine cracking as his body contorted into a hunched position before he died.

The two Kuwaiti agents stood over him, their mouths agape, before the video signal was switched off.

“What the Christ was that?” an NYPD official asked as others around the room muttered in disbelief.

“This is what we're facing,” Lancer said.

“How the hell do we stop that?”

New York City

G
retchen Sutsoff rose before the sun.

She was rested and ready.

Little Will was sleeping soundly.

Still in her nightdress, Sutsoff went to her laptop computer.

Drake Stinson had betrayed her. She knew that he was now somewhere in the Middle East trying to broker a deal with what he thought was an antidote to Pariah Variant 1.

As she started entering the activation codes for him, she did the same for the other members of her inner circle—General Dimitri, Downey, Goran, Reich and especially Ibrahim Jehaimi for violating her trust.

Before they'd joined her in the toast in Benghazi, she'd worked a veterinarian's hypodermic needle through the wine cork and injected enough lethal agent—a special prolonged-acting version—for all of them.

She took care of Jehaimi with a little gift of sweets later.

Now it was time to tidy things up.

It took five full minutes to complete the activation process, which ended when she tapped the enter key. Wherever they were in the world, they'd just taken their final breaths.

Goodbye.

She'd erased them.

Done.

Sutsoff was hungry.

She showered, then ordered a breakfast of poached eggs and English tea to her room. While the baby slept, she ate quietly and watched the new day break over Manhattan.

When she finished, she switched on the TV to watch the morning news programs. The weather called for a clear day in the low seventies.

Pictures of herself appeared on the TV screen.

A news crawler under the images said the FBI was searching for a former CIA scientist wanted in connection with murder, a conspiracy to commit an act of terrorism and theft of government property. No mention of a target or method of operation.
Do they know?
The news report showed footage of CIA headquarters, Fort Detrick, the resort on Paradise Island, a cruise ship and the face of the passenger from Indiana.

Sutsoff was calm.

She no longer looked like the wanted fugitive—Botox, body padding and a wig had taken care of that. She was Mary Anne Conrad, traveling with her grandson Will.

Her work would continue. She was only a few hours away from full activation.
This just makes things interesting,
she thought, as the baby woke and started to fuss.

Sutsoff changed him.

Then she unscrewed her float pen and mixed the clear liquid from the barrel into his breakfast: fruit, toast and juice from room service.

There we go.

As the baby ate, she checked on progress through her various e-mail accounts. She was disappointed to learn that only a handful of families were now in place in New York hotels.

She returned to the TV news, which was now showing preparations for the gathering in Central Park. The event would start later that morning. Over one million participants
were expected for the full slate of music and addresses from global celebrities, including the president.

“Over a million people—my, isn't that perfect?” She smiled at the baby. “It's more than perfect. It's beautiful.”

Sutsoff noticed a new e-mail.

One of the couples was having trouble. They'd lost their floater pen. They were at the Tellwood, only four blocks away. Sutsoff had prepared extra pens.

She typed an e-mail to them.

“All finished eating, Will? Let's take a little walk before we head to the park.”

She got him dressed, collected her laptop and some other things in a bag and loaded her stroller. Before she left, she took some more medication.

Nothing would stop her now.