The Judas Strain - James Rollins [57]
As Miller left, Devesh nodded to their group. “And, Rakao, would you personally escort Sir Ryder and Dr. Lindholm up to the radio room? We’ll join you momentarily.”
“Sir.” The tattooed man did not like this decision, his one word heavy with warning, eyeing Lisa and Henri with suspicion.
“We’ll be fine.” Devesh held open the cabin door and bowed his head for the young Indian woman to enter. “I believe Dr. Cummings and Dr. Barnhardt would like to hear what I have to say. And Surina will be with me.”
Lisa and Henri were ushered into the cabin.
Devesh stepped after them, closing the door—then stopped and turned back to the Maori leader.
“Oh, yes, and Rakao, gather the children, if you’d be so kind. The ones I picked out. That’s a good man.”
Devesh closed the door, but not before Lisa noted the Maori leader’s face darken into a glower. His tattoos stood out more starkly, an indecipherable map.
As the lock clicked, Devesh strode over to the cabin’s desk. It was actually two desks joined together, one unbolted and moved from another cabin. The pair of desks supported three LCD monitors linked to two tower HP computers. They were the only additions to the suite. The remainder of the cabin consisted of a comfortable seating area of teak furniture facing patio doors and a shaded balcony.
Surina stepped to one of the sofas and lowered herself, bending only at the knees, to perch on one of its arms. And while the movement had a measure of demure modesty, Lisa sensed power and threat: the focused eyes, the smooth control of a geisha, but mostly it was the pair of sheathed daggers exposed on both ankles as she sat.
Lisa glanced away. A bedroom opened behind the desk. A pair of large steamer trunks rested at the foot of the bed. This must be Devesh Patanjali’s personal room. But why had he brought them here?
Devesh awoke the sleeping computers with the tap of a few buttons, drawing her attention back. All three monitors bloomed to a brilliant glare in the dim room.
“Dr. Barnhardt…or Henri, if I may presume…?” Devesh glanced back.
The toxicologist merely shrugged.
Devesh continued. “Henri, I must commend you on your assessment of the true threat hidden within the shroud of the toxic assault. It had taken our scientists weeks to ascertain what you managed to discern in less than twenty-four hours.”
Lisa’s skin went cold. Weeks. So their captors had been aware of the threat at the island long before the full crisis broke. But what did any of this have to do with the Guild?
“Of course, we did not so much appreciate the general alarm you raised, reaching all the way to Washington. It required accelerating our timetable…and some improvisation. Like utilizing the scientific talent here and merging it with my own. But so be it. We must move quickly if there is to be any hope.”
“Hope for what?” Lisa finally asked.
“Let me show you, my dear.” Devesh patted one of the two chairs, inviting her to sit.
She remained standing, but he seemed to take no offense, busy with the computer keyboard. On the center monitor, a video began playing. It depicted a dense microscopic field of twitching chains of rod-shaped bacteria.
“How much do you know about anthrax?” Devesh asked, glancing back.
Lisa’s skin went cold at his question.
Henri answered, “Bacillus anthracis. It mostly infects ruminants. Cows, goats, sheep. But spores can also infect humans. Often proving fatal.”
It was a clinical assessment, devoid of emotion. But Lisa noted the tense hold to the toxicologist’s shoulders.
Devesh nodded. “Bacillus species are found worldwide in soil. Harmless for the most part. For example, here is one such benign organism, Bacillus cereus.”
The screen image changed to a microscopic close-up of a single bacterium. Rod-shaped with a thin membranous wall, the cell’s DNA strands were stained to stand out in the center.
“Like other members of the species, this little bug can be found in gardens around the world. Happily feeding