The Judas Strain - James Rollins [60]
Lisa sought some counter to his words, too shocked.
Henri interceded, but not in the manner Lisa had expected. “He’s right.”
Lisa turned to the toxicologist.
Henri’s eyes remained locked on the screen depicting the microscopic image of the Judas Strain. “This is a planet killer. And it’s already loose. Remember how fast the bird flu circled the world. We have a week, possibly only days. If we don’t find a way to stop it, all life—at least all higher life—will be wiped off the earth.”
“I’m glad we have a meeting of the minds,” Devesh said with a bow of his head in Henri’s direction. His eyes found Lisa’s. “And possibly when I show Dr. Cummings here her role in our endeavor, she may also find the same such enlightenment.”
Lisa frowned at his puzzling statement.
Devesh swung away toward the door. “But first we must join your friends up in the radio room. We have some fires to put out.”
7:02 A.M.
Washington, D.C.
PAINTER STARED AT the news reports on his three plasma screens: Fox, CNN, NBC. All reporting on the blast near Georgetown.
“So everything is fine,” Painter said, standing behind his desk. He held the earpiece more firmly in place. Lisa’s voice was faint, traveling from halfway around the world. “You scared Jennings in R and D. He was just about ready to have the island firebombed.”
“Sorry for the false alarm,” Lisa said. “It was nothing more than laboratory contamination. Everything is fine here…or at least as fine as a shipload of burned patients might be. The initial conjecture is a bloom of something called fireweed. It’s been plaguing these waters for years, spews off a corrosive pall, clearing beaches. This was just a perfect storm of the weed. The matter should be resolved in the next day or so, then Monk and I will head back.”
“That’s the first bit of good news I’ve heard all day,” Painter replied.
His eyes kept flickering back to the plasma screens on his walls. They showed the fires being finally put out in the woods behind the safe house. Fire trucks arced water from engines parked along the forest’s fire road.
Lisa whispered in his ear. “I know you’re busy. I’ll report in again in another twelve hours as scheduled.”
“Great. You get some sleep. I imagine the sunsets out there must be beautiful.”
“They are. I…I wish you were here to enjoy them with me.”
“Me, too. But it won’t be much longer until you’re back. And right now I have a fire of my own to put out.”
On the screen a news helicopter swung away to reveal the charred remains of the safe house for the morning news. He had already heard the report from the arson investigators. Tire tracks in the backyard had led to the discovery of an abandoned Thunderbird, the same convertible in which Gray had arrived on the scene a couple hours ago. It seemed he had not fled to the streets, but into the woods. But where did he go after that? There had still been no sign of Gray, his parents, or the wounded Guild operative.
Where had they gone into hiding?
“I have work here, too,” Lisa said.
“Is there anything you need?”
“No…”
He heard a hesitation in her voice. “Lisa? What is it?”
“Nothing.” She snapped a bit. “I guess I’m just tired. You know how I get this time of the month.”
His aide Brant wheeled into the office with a sheaf of faxes in hand. He noted the letterhead on the top. Washington PD. It was another of the progress reports of their canvass of the local hospitals. He spoke as he accepted the papers from Brant.
“Then make sure you get some rest,” he said, already reading the first line on the report. “You just stay safe and don’t forget the sunblock. I can’t have you making me look like some ghost next to your island tan.”
“Will do.” Lisa’s voice had faded to the barest whisper. The ship’s satellite connection was spotty. Still, he heard the disappointment