Exit 9

He turned and found Jordan standing a few feet away, a closed laptop in his hand by his hip. If anyone had taken Billy’s death harder than Matt, it was Jordan. He clearly felt responsible since he was the one who had found the container. Matt had told him he had nothing to do with Billy’s and Karen’s deaths, that finding the container had been vitally important. It didn’t seem to help.

But now, Jordan looked different, almost excited.

“What’s up?”

Jordan took a hesitant step forward. “I think I might have figured it out.”

“Figured what out?”

“How they’re distributing everything.”

“We already know it’s the containers, at least in part.”

“No, no. I mean who.”

“Who?”

“The front.”

Matt stared at him.

“Here. Let me show you.”

Jordan set his laptop on Matt’s desk. As soon as it was open, a web browser page appeared for Hidde-Kel, the company whose factory the container that killed Billy had come from.

“We already know Hidde-Kel’s the front,” Matt said.

“Not the front. A front. I know how we can identify the others.”

He brought up a new page. It was a map of an area surrounded by four rivers.

“Recognize it?” Jordan asked.

“No.”

“There are hundreds of variations, so that’s understandable. This is Eden.”

“Eden?”

“Yes. These four rivers are the Pishon, Gihon, Tigris, and Euphrates.”

“Okay. So?”

“The Tigris and Euphrates had different names when the story was written. The Euphrates was called the Phrath, and the Tigris the Hiddekel. Hidde. Kel.”

Matt felt the skin on his face tighten. Project Eden had taken its name from the Christian version of the origins of man, when people were few and resources plentiful. Had they used the reference beyond that?

“I found several other companies around the world utilizing the name Hiddekel or Hidde-Kel, and one even using Hid-de-kel. Not all of them are involved, but some definitely are. And that’s not all. I broadened the search and found suspect companies using Gihon, Phrath, and Pishon as part of their name.”

He brought up another web page. The header read PISHON CHEM.

“This company has supposedly developed a spray that it says will eradicate mosquitoes carrying malaria. It’s hired thousands of locals and is going to do a trial in dozens of major cities throughout Southeast Asia, South Asia, and Africa.” Jordan looked over at Matt. “It’s scheduled for Friday.”

It was as if every centimeter of Matt’s skin had gone numb. Not only had Jordan potentially discovered how to ID those distributing the virus, he had also turned up a date.

Friday was the day after tomorrow.

Then Matt realized something else-it was also the day before Christmas Eve. In the predominantly Christian countries, the streets would be full of shoppers, easy targets for the virus.

“We’ve only got two days?” Matt said. It wasn’t nearly enough.

“No,” Jordan said. “Not two days. Friday starts in some of these countries in less than six hours.”

32

I.D. MINUS 10 HOURS 6 MINUTES

LOCAL TIME 12:24 PM

Sanjay didn’t return to the dormitory after he found Ayush. Instead, he fled to the slum where he grew up and hid in the small, single room that belonged to Ayush. He stayed there all the next day, then through another night, scared out of his mind.

Sage Flu. Ayush. The spray. Kusum.

Sleep came in fits and starts-an hour here, another there-only occurring when his exhaustion momentarily won out over his fear. But it never lasted long.

The last thing he’d eaten was the pani puri he had in front of the building on Gamdevi Road. That was over thirty-sixty hours earlier, and though he still wasn’t hungry, he knew he should eat something. He began rummaging through Ayush’s things, and had just discovered a warm bottle of cola when a rumble of voices and shouts began moving in his direction.

He moved to the doorway and sneaked a look outside. The narrow passageway that ran in front of Ayush’s home was lined on either side by the huts that had been built with whatever material could be found-metal, wood, rubber, plastic, paper. It snaked off both ways so that Sanjay could see only thirty or forty feet in either direction.

The noise seemed to be coming from the right. He leaned farther out until he was able to see a sliver of the alley another seventy feet down. Everything looked normal-a few people passing by, and the back of a woman who seemed to be talking to someone. Then suddenly the woman jerked around and pressed against one of the homes as three men walked by. The two in front were big and angry-looking. But it was the one behind them, the European man, who made Sanjay race out of Ayush’s room and down the passageway in the other direction. It was the mean, older man from the Pishon Chem compound. The senior manager.

They had to be looking for him. They must have figured out he was the one who’d discovered his cousin. Of course, he’d made it easy, not showing up at work. That was all the admission of guilt they needed.

Staying under the shelter of the slum, Sanjay cut back and forth through several alleys, trying to get as far away from the men as possible. When he finally reached an opening to the street, he paused, checking the road to make sure no one was out there waiting for him.

It appeared to be clear, so he sprinted across, and into another warren of huts on the other side.

When he emerged again twenty minutes later, he knew his only choice was to get out of the city. Subconsciously he touched the top of the pouch that he’d stuffed in his pocket. Inside were the syringes the woman had filled from the same vial of vaccine he’d made her take a shot from. He hadn’t been sure at first whether to believe her story, that the contents of the barrels he and the others were going to spray around the city was not intended to kill mosquitoes but the residents themselves. It seemed too crazy to even consider. But there, on the other side of the plastic wall, had been his cousin and the men who had been working with him, all suffering from a severe flu. And now, the people from Pishon had come after him.

Get out of the city. It was the only thing he could do to survive. But there was something else he needed to do first.

When he reached the market, he feared Kusum wouldn’t be there. Then, as soon as he saw her, he feared he wouldn’t be able to talk her into coming with him. The plan he’d thought up while he was running seemed weak now, but he had nothing better.

“Sanjay,” she said as he approached. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“Not today,” he said. “They have given me the day off, for working so hard.”

Kusum’s mother was sitting nearby. “Really? Since when do companies give time off for working hard? Isn’t that what you are supposed to do?”

He forced a smile. “Apparently they do it differently in Europe.”

“A waste of a good day, I think.”

It was too good of a lead to pass on. “For them,” he said, “but not for me.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“Because I can take you and Kusum to lunch as a thank you for your kindness.”