Panacea by F. Paul Wilson Page A

stopped and Nelson realized he was bending closer, staring at the back of his neck.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œHave you had that looked at?”
    â€œHad what looked at?”
    â€œThat mole on the back of your neck. Looks a bit sketchy to me.”
    On its own accord, Nelson’s hand darted to his nape. “Sketchy? What’s that supposed to mean?”
    â€œWell, it’s on the big side with an irregular border, and it’s got three shades of dark brown, one almost black. Have it looked at.”
    â€œNever mind that,” Pickens said. “Remember what I said.” He turned to Nelson. “My car. Now.”
    They made the trip to the parking lot in silence. Nelson hadn’t been able to read Pickens through all this. After what the deputy director had just seen, he couldn’t go on denying the existence of the panacea. Or could he?
    As they walked he found his hand drifting to his nape. A “sketchy” mole back there? He’d had no idea.
    Pickens broke the silence as soon as they’d slammed the doors of his Navigator.
    â€œI suppose you feel you’re owed an apology.”
    Damn right, he was, but this was hardly the time for I told you so .
    â€œNot at all, sir. I’d have been deeply dubious myself were positions reversed.”
    â€œYeah, well, I’ve got to admit I did think you were a few fries short of a Happy Meal.” A quick, mechanical grin. Was Nelson supposed to laugh at that? “But after what I saw today, I’m a believer.”
    â€œIt’s incredible, isn’t it.”
    He shook his head. “No argument there, Fife. Whatever it is, we have to control it. But what is that stuff?”
    â€œThat’s what I’m working to find out.”
    â€œYesterday I had our own lab run an analysis on the residue in the tubes. I’d like to think we have better equipment than Walter Reed—in fact, I like to think our equipment is second to none. But whatever that stuff is, it crashed our system as well.”
    â€œHow is that possible?”
    â€œThe lab boys say its molecular structure does not compute. It’s totally different from anything they’ve ever seen. Like it’s from outer space.”
    If you only knew, Nelson thought.
    Pickens shook his head. “We’ve run into a wall on that approach, and that’s a goddamn shame. Because if we can’t nail down its molecular structure, we can’t synthesize it.”
    Nelson balled his fists. Excellent. How could he wipe it out if the Company could synthesize it?
    â€œThat leaves going to the source and bringing in one of these … these…”
    â€œPanaceans.”
    â€œRight. We need one of these guys alive to find out how they make it.”
    â€œWe know the process up to a point, sir.”
    Pickens looked at him. “‘We’? What ‘we’ are we talking about here? The only ‘we’ is you and me and the Company.”
    Had to tread carefully here.
    â€œSorry. I was referring to my uncle Jim and me. He—”
    â€œJim Fife again. We keep coming back to him.”
    â€œWell, he was the one who identified the panaceans. He managed to grow some of their plants in his backyard and he would cook them up just like they did, but the results were worthless. They must add something, but they’ve all denied it. Even under … duress.”
    â€œInterrogation methods have improved quite a bit from your uncle’s time—as you well know.”
    Nelson nodded. The Company had a new infusion that could make the most reluctant interrogatee positively loquacious.
    â€œNot much use when they drop dead rather than talk.”
    â€œYou need to Taser one as soon as you find him—knock him out before he can stop his heart or whatever they do.”
    â€œI’ll need manpower and resources, sir.”
    â€œDon’t worry. You’ve got them. I’m stopping at Langley. As soon