from MIT three years ago after a couple of graduate students complained they saw him experimenting on human test subjects without the people’s knowledge. It was never proven since it was their word against his, and Dr. Standridge insisted the students were just holding a grudge because he’d rejected their theses. But it made the MIT board nervous enough to ask for his early retirement and resignation.”
“And what’s Dr. Standridge been up to for the past couple of years?” Jack asked.
“That’s the million-dollar question. He’s disappeared, or at least he’s hidden himself well enough that my limited tracking abilities can’t find him. I couldn’t find a death certificate or an obituary. And his name’s not attached to any new project. I figured I’d turn this over to Ethan. He’ll be able to dig deeper.”
Ethan followed Jack into the room, his glasses skewed on his face and his hair mussed. “Rad. I like spying on other people. You find out the damndest things. They’re strange.”
Jack snorted out a laugh, and Grace buried her face in the computer so Ethan wouldn’t see her smile. God, everything about this mission felt odd to her. She’d cut herself off so completely for the last two years that being around anyone was a culture shock. Guilt ate at her. She shouldn’t be smiling and enjoying the excitement of starting a new team mission while her daughter was buried in the ground back in Virginia. Not while her murder was still unavenged and the monster who had killed her was roaming free.
Her smile disappeared, and she watched Ethan pull a can of soda from the fridge and pop the top, oblivious to their amusement or anything else. She and Jack had been rotating the room, checking their positions in the windows and watching for anyone outside who happened to pass by the building more than once or seem too interested. They’d been doing the things they’d been trained to do to stay alive. But Ethan just existed in his own world. He’d make a terrible field agent, and she hoped to God they didn’t get him killed. She had enough blood on her hands.
“What are you guys staring at?” Ethan asked, his drink to his lips. Grace looked at Jack and she could tell he’d just had the same thought. Ethan was either going to be a great help or a huge hindrance. Only time would tell.
A hard knock on the apartment door kept them from having to answer Ethan’s question. Gabe came into the room, his iPad cradled under his arm and his phone in the other hand.
“We’ve got another infection site. It’s the same MO,” he said, placing his things on the coffee table before looking at Grace.
The tension in the room skyrocketed, and she broke his gaze, returning her attention to the computer screen. She heard Jack mumble something profane under his breath, and Ethan, as unworldly as he was, asked, “What’s going on?”
Gabe headed into the kitchen and came back with a cup of coffee. He took a sip and grimaced, and Grace felt a small satisfaction at his pained look.
“Christ, Grace, do you always have to boil it to death?” Gabe went back into the kitchen and poured milk into the mug.
Jack broke the tension by picking up Gabe’s iPad and scrolling through the pictures of the new infection site he had stored on it. “This site isn’t wiped clean like the others. They didn’t finish the job.”
“No,” Gabe said. “I’ve been monitoring the World Health Organization’s communications since Bennett sent me that package a couple of weeks ago. I got a hit about five a.m. from a panicked caller in central Mexico that a small native tribe was showing signs of an unknown virus. There are more than a hundred dead, but they’re at the seventy-two hour mark, and there are still survivors.”
“Maybe it really is an isolated epidemic,” Grace said.
“Maybe, except a witness came forward and said a white man had been asking for directions to the village. The WHO doctors at the site said they’ve never seen any type of virus like this one before. They said it’s unheard of for a disease that takes affect so quickly and violently to stay contained within one tribe.”
“So the question is, what’s the nature of that particular tribe—that it only affected them and no one else?” Grace asked.
“Bingo,” Gabe said with a nod. “The Ahnimado Tribe prides themselves on being pureblood. They’re a tribe of less than a hundred people who all share the same genes. Marriages must take place within the family, and no outsiders are allowed in their village.”
Grace took the iPad from Jack and looked at the pictures. “So if we assume whoever made this batch of The Passover Project used a specific Ahnimado’s DNA as a test for the weapon, then we can also assume that they’re getting closer to finding the formula. The Ahnimado have all fallen ill because they share common DNA linked to their pureblood lineage.”
Gabe nodded and said, “The virus doesn’t seem to be contagious, and the doctor said they didn’t have much hope for the remaining survivors. It’s as if they’d all been purposely wiped out.”
“Did the witness give an ID of the man?” Jack asked.
“I’ve just put Logan on a plane to go find out. He’s going to check out the site in person and see if there are any survivors who are able to speak.” Gabe turned to Ethan. “Is there progress on the museum?”
“Jack has some ideas,” Ethan said, shrugging. “I just build the incredible machines. Someone else does all the real work.”
Jack rolled his eyes. “We’ve got the basics, but I’ll feel better about it after I contact some people. The kid has the design of the structure right, and we could get in and out if that was all there was to it. It’s the nonelectronic aspects that are going to give us the most trouble. Bullets beat machines any day.”
“Let me know if you need any help,” Gabe said, gathering his things and heading for the door. “Grace, I need to speak to you a moment.”
Grace followed Gabe reluctantly into the hallway, aware that two curious stares followed them out. She closed the door behind her and leaned back against it, crossing her arms over her chest and mentally preparing for Gabe to bring up what happened between them earlier that morning.
“I have a contact who said Tussad is visiting his sister in Abadan.”
Grace straightened from the wall, the news not what she’d been expecting. “What? How long has he been there? How did you find out so fast? Dammit, I’ve paid contacts near there to let me know as soon as he steps foot on Iranian soil. Why the hell wasn’t I contacted?”
“We both know that what you’re paying your contacts can be beaten. It’s why you agreed to this deal in the first place. My pockets are deeper than yours. Besides, I’ve had all your communications intercepted since you’ve been here.”
“Goddammit, Gabe—”
“You work for me now, Grace. You agreed. No outside jobs. I gave you my word we’d get Tussad. I’m delivering.”
“You can’t cut me off from my contacts completely. I won’t be here working for you forever.”
“Maybe not, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” He waited her out while she fumed silently. There was no way he was going to let her go back to the life she’d been living the last two years. Not even the most hardened criminals lasted long in that kind of work.
“Fine. Tell me about Tussad.”
“He’s been in Abadan since early yesterday morning. It’s up to you if you want to try and flush him out now or wait until later.”
Gabe’s face was unreadable as he waited for her to make a decision.
“Does your contact think he’ll still be there by the time we can fly in?” she asked.
“According to my contact, Tussad is there for the three-day birthday celebration of his mother. He’ll be there at least another twenty-four hours.”
Grace nodded and swiped her card in the elevator. “Then we don’t have a moment to spare. I assume you have a weapons room in this monstrosity?”
“You could say that.”
“Good. When do we leave?”
CHAPTER SEVEN
