assured himself. It was in the DNA patterns. Had to be. When a bacterial virus infected a bacterium, it was the virus’s DNA, not its protein, that entered the bacterial cell. Here was the messenger he needed to make John O’Neill’s revenge heard everywhere.
The technique for testing his results already had been worked out. It would be elegant in the extreme. He would require short-lived virus-mediated bacterial forms, bacteria that would induce visible effects in a selected population. The effects would have to be identifiable and visible, not fatal but important enough to cause comment. The test bacilli would have to be self-lethal. They would have to vanish of themselves.
These requirements, which might have daunted a major research center, did not even give him pause. He had a feeling of invincibility. It was only one step in his project. When he had the key to this lock, when he had assured himself of its identity, then he could start shaping the key into its more virulent form.
And then the message could be sent.
This is not my table. That’s the real, all-inclusive Western mantra. And look what it got us.
– Fintan Craig Doheny
T HE T EAM reconvened after lunch that first day with its pattern well set – Beckett in charge, Lepikov simmeringly resentful, Godelinsky weaving intuitively through her maze of questions, Danzas reserved and watchful, Hupp darting like a terrier around every new idea, and Foss sitting there like an aloof goddess.
Hupp was amused that they chose the more intimate lighting for the room when they reconvened. It focused only on the long table, leaving the rest of the space in remote shadows.
The Team clustered loosely near one end of the table with their notes and briefcases around them. The sparring between Danzas and Lepikov had become more subtle – a raised eyebrow, a gentle cough at an inappropriate moment. Danzas took to stacking and restacking his papers while Lepikov spoke. Lepikov’s animosity toward Foss had resolved itself into calflike hurt glances that avoided Foss’s ample breasts. Godelinsky obviously had made the “sisters under the skin” decision to side with Foss, a thing that galled Lepikov, but he came back to the meeting saying he had orders to follow Beckett’s lead.
Preparing himself to speak at length on this, Lepikov pushed himself back in his chair at Beckett’s right and stared across the table where Danzas was leafing through notes with a noisy rustling. A glance at Godelinsky beside him showed her looking down the table where Foss had seated herself slightly apart, separated from Hupp by an empty chair. Before he could speak, though, Godelinsky asked Beckett: “Why do they lock the barn door after the horse is slaughtered?” She reached over and tapped a sheet of yellow paper in front of Beckett.
Hupp appeared agitated by the question. “Yes,” he said. “Why do they impose the severe quarantine at this time?”
“We must do what the Madman says,” Lepikov interrupted.
Beckett nodded. “It’s a mess, all right.”
“The Madman makes his point,” Danzas said.
“I had a brief session with our Security people before coming in here,” Beckett said. “We’re writing off North Africa from the Atlantic to the Suez. South Africa remains a question mark. Security says it has a report that a Mafia courier contaminated Johannesburg. There are trouble spots in France and an outbreak south of Rome.”
“What of Ireland and England?” Danzas asked.
Beckett shook his head. “England’s still trying to create safe districts for its women. Ireland has apparently given it up. There’s battling in Ireland between the army and the IRA. Belfast… they tried to arrange a truce but it’s already being called ‘the Bloody Amnesty.’ I just don’t understand the Irish.”
“Tell them about Switzerland,” Foss said.
“The Swiss have cut themselves off, blown their bridges and tunnels, shut down their airports. They’ve
The technique for testing his results already had been worked out. It would be elegant in the extreme. He would require short-lived virus-mediated bacterial forms, bacteria that would induce visible effects in a selected population. The effects would have to be identifiable and visible, not fatal but important enough to cause comment. The test bacilli would have to be self-lethal. They would have to vanish of themselves.
These requirements, which might have daunted a major research center, did not even give him pause. He had a feeling of invincibility. It was only one step in his project. When he had the key to this lock, when he had assured himself of its identity, then he could start shaping the key into its more virulent form.
And then the message could be sent.
This is not my table. That’s the real, all-inclusive Western mantra. And look what it got us.
– Fintan Craig Doheny
T HE T EAM reconvened after lunch that first day with its pattern well set – Beckett in charge, Lepikov simmeringly resentful, Godelinsky weaving intuitively through her maze of questions, Danzas reserved and watchful, Hupp darting like a terrier around every new idea, and Foss sitting there like an aloof goddess.
Hupp was amused that they chose the more intimate lighting for the room when they reconvened. It focused only on the long table, leaving the rest of the space in remote shadows.
The Team clustered loosely near one end of the table with their notes and briefcases around them. The sparring between Danzas and Lepikov had become more subtle – a raised eyebrow, a gentle cough at an inappropriate moment. Danzas took to stacking and restacking his papers while Lepikov spoke. Lepikov’s animosity toward Foss had resolved itself into calflike hurt glances that avoided Foss’s ample breasts. Godelinsky obviously had made the “sisters under the skin” decision to side with Foss, a thing that galled Lepikov, but he came back to the meeting saying he had orders to follow Beckett’s lead.
Preparing himself to speak at length on this, Lepikov pushed himself back in his chair at Beckett’s right and stared across the table where Danzas was leafing through notes with a noisy rustling. A glance at Godelinsky beside him showed her looking down the table where Foss had seated herself slightly apart, separated from Hupp by an empty chair. Before he could speak, though, Godelinsky asked Beckett: “Why do they lock the barn door after the horse is slaughtered?” She reached over and tapped a sheet of yellow paper in front of Beckett.
Hupp appeared agitated by the question. “Yes,” he said. “Why do they impose the severe quarantine at this time?”
“We must do what the Madman says,” Lepikov interrupted.
Beckett nodded. “It’s a mess, all right.”
“The Madman makes his point,” Danzas said.
“I had a brief session with our Security people before coming in here,” Beckett said. “We’re writing off North Africa from the Atlantic to the Suez. South Africa remains a question mark. Security says it has a report that a Mafia courier contaminated Johannesburg. There are trouble spots in France and an outbreak south of Rome.”
“What of Ireland and England?” Danzas asked.
Beckett shook his head. “England’s still trying to create safe districts for its women. Ireland has apparently given it up. There’s battling in Ireland between the army and the IRA. Belfast… they tried to arrange a truce but it’s already being called ‘the Bloody Amnesty.’ I just don’t understand the Irish.”
“Tell them about Switzerland,” Foss said.
“The Swiss have cut themselves off, blown their bridges and tunnels, shut down their airports. They’ve
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