direction. If Kira Miller could torch her brother in cold blood, she wouldn’t likely be squeamish about killing her parents either. A thorough examination of mysterious deaths and disappearances with her as epicenter was almost certain to be revealing. Perhaps brother Alan had been helping this private investigator, Larry Lusetti. This was as good a conjecture as any for why she killed him so soon after recovering the file Lusetti had on her. Alan Miller could probably have pulled any number of skeletons from his little sister’s closet—perhaps literally.
“Any other unexplained accidents in her wake?” said Desh.
Connelly nodded grimly. “An uncle drowned while swimming alone when she was twelve. And he was known to be a very strong swimmer. There were two other incidents involving teachers at Kira’s high school the next year. One turned up dead in her apartment, her face so badly eaten away by sulfuric acid it was unrecognizable. The other went missing and was never found. Neither case was ever solved.”
So the breathtaking, fresh-faced girl smiling in the photo was a psychopath, and was at the very least a double murderer. The tale Connelly had spun was truly grisly. But Desh knew the worst was yet to come. There was only one reason any of this would warrant the colonel’s attention. “So what’s the terrorism connection?”
Connelly sighed heavily, as if he had hoped he could somehow avoid this discussion. He rubbed his mustache once again and said, “As the Lusetti investigation and hunt for Kira Miller continued, the police found evidence that she had been in communication with several known terrorist organizations, including Al-Qaeda and Islamic Jihad.”
“Nice groups,” said Desh dryly.
“The case was turned over to Homeland Security. There’s a detailed report in the accordion file, but they quickly found that she had millions of dollars deposited in banks throughout the world, well hidden, including several numbered Swiss accounts. They’re certain they haven’t found it all. The methods she used to obscure the trail between herself and her money were quite sophisticated. They also found several false identities, and are convinced she has more.”
“Working with Jihadists is an interesting choice for a Western woman, even for a sociopath. These groups aren’t exactly known for being progressive when it comes to a woman’s place in society.”
“It’s a puzzle alright. She’s not Muslim and there’s no evidence she ever supported this ideology. She could be in it just for money, but somehow I think there’s something we’re missing.”
“Do you think she’s attracted to the danger of working with terrorists?”
Connelly shrugged. “It’s impossible to say. Normal motives don’t necessarily apply to psychopathic personalities. Jeffrey Dahmer murdered and cannibalized seventeen people, three of whose skulls were found in his refrigerator.”
“That’s
A smile flashed across Connelly’s face, but only for a moment. “You’ll read in the report that they found a flotation tank in her condo,” he continued. “Top of the line. That’s a pretty unusual device to have taking up space in your living room.”
“Flotation tank?”
“They used to be called sensory deprivation chambers. Basically a giant coffin filled with water and Epsom salt. Seal yourself up in one and you bob around like a cork, weightless, in total silence and total darkness. You receive virtually no sensory input while inside.” Connelly grimaced. “One can only imagine what she was doing with it. Performing bizarre rituals? Locking people in for days at a time as a means of torture?” he shuddered. “This girl is our worst nightmare: brilliant and totally unpredictable. No conscience; no remorse.”
The room fell silent. Both men were alone with their thoughts. Desh knew that any problem Connelly had that he couldn’t solve with his vast resources and was important enough for him to summon Desh had to be very, very ugly. He wasn’t sure he really wanted to know what it was. Maybe he should just leave now. What did it matter, anyway? Stop one villain and another would always spring up to take his place. But he couldn’t bring himself to walk away, at least not until his curiosity was satisfied.
Desh took a deep breath and locked his eyes on Connelly. “So let’s cut to the chase, Colonel. What are we really talking about here, biological warfare?”
Connelly frowned. “That’s right. And she’s the best around—maybe ever.” Connelly’s demeanor, already fairly grim due to the nature of the events he had been reporting, took a sharp turn for the worse.
“With her skills and experience engineering viruses,” said Desh, “I’m sure she could make them more deadly and contagious. But to what end? You can’t contain them. They could easily boomerang back on the terrorists. I know these groups aren’t very selective in who they kill, but their leaders, at least, aren’t in any hurry to meet the seventy-two virgins awaiting them in heaven.”
“My bioweapons experts tell me someone with her skill can get around the containment issue by designing in molecular triggers. The DNA not only has to be inserted, it has to be read and turned into gene products,” explained Connelly. “There are promoter regions on the DNA that control under what circumstances this happens. Triggers. Someone as talented as Kira Miller can engineer these to her specifications. Like a Trojan Horse virus that infects your computer. It lies dormant until whatever predetermined time the asshole who invented it has specified. Then it emerges and demolishes your files.”
Connelly took a deep breath and then continued. “We think she’s engineering the common cold virus to insert specific Ebola virus genes into human chromosomes like a retrovirus does,” he said gravely. “As with any cold, it would spread quickly. But now, in addition to a runny nose, those infected would get a bonus: the genes responsible for the massive hemorrhagic fever associated with Ebola. This is almost always fatal. Victims suffer from fever, vomiting, diarrhea, and uncontrollable bleeding, both internally and externally—from the corners of their eyes, their nose—everywhere.”
Desh’s stomach tightened. Ebola was the deadliest virus known. He shouldn’t have been surprised that something as promising as gene therapy and molecular biology could be bastardized to kill rather than cure. Humanity seemed to have a singular ability to find destructive uses for any constructive technology. Invent the computer, and you could be certain someone would invent computer viruses and other ways to attack it. Invent the Internet, an unimaginable treasure trove of information, and you could bet it would be used as a recruiting tool for hate mongers and instantly turned into a venue for child pornographers, sexual predators, and scam artists. Humanity never failed to find a way to become its own worst enemy.
“I still don’t see how the terrorists can be certain of avoiding the Ebola genes themselves,” said Desh.
“They can’t be. But there’s more to the story. This is where the molecular trigger comes in. Remember, the genes don’t only have to be inserted, they have to be activated.”
“So what activates them?”
“We believe she’s trying to engineer them to be triggered by a chemical. One specific to a certain food. Ingest this chemical and the inserted Ebola genetic material begins to be expressed by victims’ cells. And once the genes have been triggered, there’s no stopping them. People’s own cells are transformed into ticking time bombs. A few days to a few weeks later, boom!—you’re dead.” Connelly raised his eyebrows. “Any guesses as to what food sets it off?”
Desh looked blank.
“Pork.”
Desh’s eyes widened. Of course it would be pork. What else? Only those at the pinnacle of the Jihadist pyramid would know of the plot, but since ingestion of pork was forbidden in the Muslim religion, their followers would be safe. And Desh knew how these people thought. In their eyes, any Muslim around the world who ignored this prohibition and
“Our organic chemists tell me there are several complex molecules that are swine-specific. We believe the Ebola genes are set to be triggered by one of them. But even though the genes are triggered, the viral parts aren’t present, so it isn’t infectious like the natural Ebola. That’s what keeps the terrorists safe. As long as they don’t eat pork, they have nothing to worry about.”
Desh’s lip curled up in disgust. It was a masterful plan from the terrorist’s perspective. And as utterly horrific as their strategy was, it was not without its boldness or creativity. Ironically, in addition to devout Muslims, religious Jews would also be spared. This would be the only fly in the ointment of an otherwise ideal plan from the terrorists’ perspective. The fact that their most hated enemy would remain untouched would sit like open sores in their stomachs.
“Can she really pull it off?” he asked
