Firechild by Jack Williamson Page B

project.
    “Carboni says he was attempting to create a new kind of life.”
    “A madman?”
    “A genius, Carboni calls him. Looking for genetic discoveries that might transform mankind. Carboni calls him an idealistic dreamer, driven by visions that he could somehow recreate the human species into beings nobler and wiser than we are. Too noble even to think of genetic warfare.”
    Shuvalov snorted. “I think he was a madman.”
    “Mad, perhaps, but also something greater!” Her voice quickened. “Perhaps he hadn’t done much to impress most of his fellow Americans, but Carboni knows genetics enough to feel terrified. He told Scorpio that Belcraft was creating what he called para-life. A stranger stuff than just a clone or a mutation or genetic recombinant. Something wholly new. As different, Carboni told him, as some alien form that might have evolved on another planet.”
    “Not very likely.”
    “It is described, Carboni swears, in the lab notebooks he photographed. Described in very convincing detail, with outlines for lab processes that he hopes will synthesize it.”
    “So?” Shuvalov shrugged. “What is it to us? Colonel Bogdanov will hardly care to play creator. Or allow experiments that might bring this plague to Russia.”
    “Knowing the lesson of Enfield, our own genetic engineers might perhaps do better.”
    “Perhaps. But you have not obtained the files.” His small eyes sharpened. “Did Carboni speak of anything of greater interest to the Center?”
    “Carboni says there are notes made on a word processor for a letter Belcraft was planning to write his brother. Carboni got into the computer to make his own printout of the notes. Sketching Belcraft’s whole career at EnGene. His disagreements with the weapon-builders and his ideas for some new creation. If the letter was actually written, it would be a fascinating document. Even the notes should be revealing.”
    “This brother? Where is he?”
    “He’s a physician in Fort Madison. A town on the Mississippi. We sent an agent there, who found him away. His office nurse says he called her on the morning of the disaster to say he was driving to Enfield. He has not returned. She has heard nothing more.”
    “Was he involved in the genetic research?”
    “Apparently not. On the night before the disaster, he received a telephone call from his brother at EnGene —a call Carboni was able to record. We have a transcript here.” She nodded at the envelope. “The brother —Victor Belcraft—speaks of a letter, which he says has been safely mailed. Perhaps he was anticipating the disaster. Something in his call seems to have alarmed the doctor-brother.”
    “He reached Enfield in time to die there?”
    “No. I don’t think so.” A troubled headshake. “Scorpio is not my only agent. We have informers in the American task force. One of them has reported a survivor picked up inside the quarantine perimeter—a Dr. Saxon Belcraft. He must be the brother from Fort Madison.”
    “If that’s true—” His eyes narrowed. “The Americans are doubtless interrogating him. We must learn what he says.”
    “There’s something stranger.” Her voice dropped. “The informer reports that this brother ventured into the devastated area, where all life had been erased. The task force is still afraid of contagion, but he came out alive. He brought a creature with him. A queer little animal that had survived whatever destroyed the city.” She caught her breath, leaning a little toward him. “It is said to be a sort of thing never seen before. Perhaps the para-life discussed in the Belcraft documents.”
    “The file you failed to obtain.”
    “We made every possible effort.” She tried not to flinch from his rasp of accusation. “Scorpio says Carboni is afraid of us and afraid of the CIA. He has refused to reveal where he is hiding. Since he failed to meet us in Chicago, we have no way to reach him. With military law in effect around Enfield, and the