Wired

“This is as difficult a genetic engineering project as there is, but if anyone in the world can do it, Kira Miller can. She’s that good.”

“And the expected casualties?”

“Depends on how efficiently her designed virus can insert the genes, and how efficiently the pork-specific organic chemicals can trigger them. Worst case, hundreds of millions around the world. Best case, given the high quality of medicine in the West, maybe a few hundred thousand.”

The color drained from Desh’s face. This attack had the potential to be more costly in human lives than a nuclear bomb set off in a population center. And the very nature of the attack would unleash a raging wildfire of irrationality and panic that could have an incalculable effect on civilization. “And this would be only the beginning,” he whispered to Connelly.

“That’s right,” said Connelly. “People would fear they had other Trojan Horses buried in their genetic material, primed to go off with one wrong bite. No one would know what foods to trust. Rumors would race around the world. Fear would be at a fever pitch. Economies would collapse. The most ordered societies would degenerate into chaos and devastation almost overnight.”

Desh knew this plan could set civilization back hundreds of years—which is exactly what the Jihadists wanted. No wonder Kira Miller was so wealthy. If she could convince Al-Qaeda she could execute on this plan, she could name her price. Death and devastation on a vast scale wouldn’t trouble a soulless psychopath like her in the least.

“At some point, we may be forced to issue a warning not to eat pork,” said Connelly. “But this wouldn’t buy us all that much. The warning itself would incite some of the panic we’re trying to avoid. Many wouldn’t get the message and still others would ignore it, believing it to be a government conspiracy. And we believe the Jihadists have a contingency version ready to go, with a different trigger. So sounding the alarm would just push them into plan B. The terrorist leaders would still know which foods to avoid, although since they’d only risk sharing this secret with a select few, they’d lose far more of their followers under this scenario.”

Desh shook his head in disgust. If it came to that, the need to sacrifice scores of their followers for the cause would not give them the slightest pause.

Desh placed the photographs back inside the folder and reinserted it into the accordion file. Before arriving at Fort Bragg he had already felt dead inside. Being on the grounds, a reminder of a past he so desperately wanted to forget, had made things worse. And now this. He felt ill. He needed to conclude this meeting and get some air. “So tell me,” he said pointedly. “Why am I here?”

Connelly sighed deeply. “Kira Miller has been off the grid since her brother’s murder—for about a year now. She’s vanished. Like magic. We have reason to believe she was in San Diego last November, but she could be anywhere now. Only Bin Laden and a few others have been the subject of bigger manhunts, and we’ve basically gotten nowhere. There are those who think she must be dead, but we can’t make that assumption, obviously.”

“I ask again,” said Desh. “Why am I here? Plan B? Send in a solitary man when entire armies fail?”

“Believe me, we didn’t wait until now to try the Lone Ranger approach. We’ve been sending in individual agents for several months. The best and brightest. They’ve gotten nowhere.”

“So what am I, then,” remarked Desh. “Plan E? What do you expect I can do that your first choices couldn’t?”

“First of all, you would have been my first choice had you remained in the military. You know that, David. You know my opinion of your abilities. I didn’t think I could get authorization to recruit a civilian, so I never recommended you.”

Desh looked confused. “Then how am I here?”

“Someone up the food chain realized your value and asked me to recruit you. I was thrilled that they did. Not only are you unequaled as a soldier, you found more top-level terrorists on the lamb than anyone when you were in the service. No one is as creative and tenacious on the hunt as you are. Kira Miller has a knack for gene therapy. You have a knack for finding those who are off the grid.”

Connelly leaned forward and fixed an unblinking stare on Desh. “And you’re someone I trust absolutely, someone outside the system. This woman has massive amounts of money and is quite persuasive. I wouldn’t put it past her to have found a way to monitor us, or to compromise some of our people.”

“So you think you have a mole?”

“Honestly … no. But with the stakes this high, why take chances?”

Desh nodded. He couldn’t argue the point.

“We failed as an organization. The individuals who have tried have also failed. There could be many other good explanations for this, but now it’s time to try something different.” He rubbed his mustache absently. “You have a singular talent for this and you don’t report through military channels. Let’s keep it that way. Use your own resources, not ours. In the file you’ll find the reports of your predecessors: all the information they gathered on Kira Miller.”

“I assume it will also detail their attempts to locate her?”

“Actually, no,” said Connelly. “We don’t want you to be polluted with what came before. You’ll be starting with a clean slate. And don’t communicate with me. I don’t want to know what you’re doing. You’ll find a contact number to use when you find her. The person at the other end will handle the rest. Follow his instructions from there on in.”

“When I find her?”

“You’ll find her,” said Connelly with absolute conviction. “I’m certain of it.”

“That’s two questionable assumptions you’re making,” said Desh. “The first one is that I’ll agree to take the job in the first place.”

Connelly said nothing. The silence hung in the room like a thick fog.

Desh was torn. There was a significant part of him that just wanted to walk away. Connelly would find a way to solve his problem—or he wouldn’t. But the world would keep revolving, with or without Desh on the case. There were other talented men outside the system. Let someone else be the hero. He had tried the hero business and had failed.

On the other hand, what if he really did have some special quality that would turn the tide? If he walked away and the attack succeeded, how could he live with himself? He beat himself up every day for surviving the operation in Iran when his men had not. Guilt and loss were eating away at his soul already, but would pale in comparison to the question that would torment his every waking moment—what if he really had been the only one able to find, and stop, Kira Miller?

And even though he had wanted to clear his head and put distance between himself and anyone he had know from his past life, his relationship with Connelly had been very close, and almost certainly would be again someday. There were few men he admired as much as he did Jim Connelly.

Desh stared long and hard at the colonel. “Okay,” he said wearily, a look of resignation on his face. “I’ll help you.” He shook his head bitterly, and it was clear he was annoyed with himself for being unable to refuse. “I’ll give it my best,” he added with a sigh. “That’s all I can do.”

“Thanks, David,” said Connelly in relief. “That’s all anyone can do.”

The colonel paused and now looked somewhat uneasy. “Now that you’re on board, I need to insist that you don’t go after her yourself, under any circumstances. Your job is to find her. Period. The job of the person at the end of the telephone number I gave you is to reel her in.” He paused. “Before you leave, I have to be sure you’re crystal clear about this.”

Desh stared at Connelly in disbelief. “I’m clear on it, all right, Colonel. What I’m not clear on is why. What if I found her and was in the perfect position for capture? I need to be able to strike when the iron’s hot. By the time I call someone in and they arrive, she could slip through the noose. She’s too elusive and too important to allow that to happen.” He shook his head in disbelief. “It’s an idiotic strategy,” he snapped.

The colonel sighed. “I couldn’t agree more,” he said. “But those are my orders. I made all the points you just made as emphatically as I could, but I didn’t win the day. So this is what we’re left with.”

“Okay then,” said Desh in annoyance. “I’m just a civilian now. If someone up the chain of command just had a frontal lobotomy, there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“On the bright side,” continued Connelly, pressing ahead, “I was able to win one important argument with my superiors.” He smiled slyly. “I convinced them it wouldn’t be easy to entice you back. They’ve authorized me to pay you $200,000 upon initiation of the assignment as a draw against expenses. It’s all