Covert One 5 - The Lazarus Vendetta Read Online Free PDF

stainless steel tanks; mobile equipment skids loaded with pumps,
valves, and sensor devices; vertically mounted disk frames for osmotic filters;
and stacked Lucite cylinders packed with various grades of purification gels,
all connected with looping lengths of clear, silastic tubing.
    Smith knew that the core could be reached only through a succession of air
locks and gowning roofhs. Anyone working inside the production chamber had to
wear fully sterile coveralls, gloves and boots, and an air-displacement
breather helmet. He smiled wryly. If the Lazarus Movement activists camped
outside ever saw anyone wearing that alien-looking getup, it would confirm all
their worst fears about mad scientists toying with deadly toxins.
    In truth, of course, the real situation was exactly the reverse. In the
world of nanotechnology, humans were the source of danger and contamination. A
falling flake of skin, a hair follicle, the wafted particles of moisture
breathed out in casual conversation, and the shotgun blast of a sneeze all
could wreak havoc on the nanoscale, releasing oils, acids, alka-lines, and
enzymes that could poison the manufacturing process. Humans were also a rich
source of bacteria: fast-growing organisms that would consume production
broths, clog filters, and even attack the developing nanodevices themselves.
    Fortunately, most of the necessary work could be done remotely from
    outside the core and the control and sample
preparation chambers. Robotic manipulators, computer-controlled motorized
equipment skids, and other innovations greatly reduced the need for humans to
enter the “clean rooms.” The incredible level of automation in its
lab suites was one of the Teller Institute's most popular innovations, since it
gave scientists and technicians far more freedom of movement than at other
facilities.
    Smith threaded through the maze of desks in the outer room, making his way
toward Dr. Philip Brinker, the senior scientist for Harcourt Bio-sciences. The
tall, pale, rail-thin researcher had his back to the entrance, so intently
studying the image relayed from a scanning electron microscope that he didn't
catch Jon's cat-quiet approach.
    Brinker's chief assistant, Dr. Ravi Parikh, was more alert. The shorter,
darker molecular biologist looked up suddenly. He opened his mouth to warn his
boss, then closed it with a shy smile when Smith
winked at him and motioned for silence.
    Jon stopped just two feet behind the two researchers and stood at ease.
    “Damn, that looks nice, Ravi,”
Brinker said, still peering at the image on the screen in front of him.
“Man, I bet our favorite DoD spook is gonna bow
down before us when he sees this.”
    This time Smith did not bother hiding his grin. Brinker always called him a
spook—a spy. The Harcourt scientist meant it as a joke, a kind of running gag
about Smith's role as an observer for the Pentagon, but Brinker had no clue as
to just how close that was to the truth.
    The fact was that Jon was more than just an Army officer and scientist. From
time to time he took on missions for Covert-One, a top-secret intelligence
outfit reporting directly to the president. Covert-One worked in the shadows,
so far back in the shadows that no one in Congress or the of-'
ficial military-intelligence bureaucracy even knew it existed. Fortunately,
Jon's work here at the Institute was purely scientific in nature.
    Smith leaned forward, looking right over the senior Harcourt scientist's
shoulder. “So what is it exactly that's going to make me worship the
ground you walk on, Phil?”
    Startled, Brinker jumped six inches in the air. “Jesus Christ!” He
spun round. “Colonel, you pull that ghost act on me just one more time and
I swear to God I'm gonna drop dead right in front of you! Then how would you
feel?”
    Smith laughed. “Sorry, I guess.”
    “Sure you would,” Brinker grumbled. Then he brightened. “But
since I'm not dead, despite your best efforts, you can take a look at what Ravi and I