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“One can only imagine what she
was doing with it. Performing bizarre rituals? Locking people in for days at a
time as a means of torture?” he shuddered. “This girl is our worst nightmare:
brilliant and totally unpredictable. No conscience; no remorse.”
    The
room fell silent. Both men were alone with their thoughts. Desh knew that any
problem Connelly had that he couldn’t solve with his vast resources and was
important enough for him to summon Desh had to be very, very ugly. He wasn’t
sure he really wanted to know what it was. Maybe he should just leave now. What
did it matter, anyway? Stop one villain and another would always spring up to
take his place. But he couldn’t bring himself to walk away, at least not until
his curiosity was satisfied.
    Desh
took a deep breath and locked his eyes on Connelly. “So let’s cut to the chase,
Colonel. What are we really talking about here, biological warfare?”
    Connelly
frowned. “That’s right. And she’s the best around—maybe ever.” Connelly’s
demeanor, already fairly grim due to the nature of the events he had been
reporting, took a sharp turn for the worse.
    “With
her skills and experience engineering viruses,” said Desh, “I’m sure she could
make them more deadly and contagious. But to what end? You can’t contain them. They
could easily boomerang back on the terrorists. I know these groups aren’t very
selective in who they kill, but their leaders, at least, aren’t in any hurry to
meet the seventy-two virgins awaiting them in heaven.”
    “My
bioweapons experts tell me someone with her skill can get around the
containment issue by designing in molecular triggers. The DNA not only has to
be inserted, it has to be read and turned into gene products,” explained
Connelly. “There are promoter regions on the DNA that control under what
circumstances this happens. Triggers. Someone as talented as Kira Miller can
engineer these to her specifications. Like a Trojan Horse virus that infects
your computer. It lies dormant until whatever predetermined time the asshole who
invented it has specified. Then it emerges and demolishes your files.”
    Connelly
took a deep breath and then continued. “We think she’s engineering the common
cold virus to insert specific Ebola virus genes into human chromosomes like a
retrovirus does,” he said gravely. “As with any cold, it would spread quickly. But
now, in addition to a runny nose, those infected would get a bonus: the genes
responsible for the massive hemorrhagic fever associated with Ebola. This is
almost always fatal. Victims suffer from fever, vomiting, diarrhea, and
uncontrollable bleeding, both internally and externally—from the corners of
their eyes, their nose—everywhere.”
    Desh’s
stomach tightened. Ebola was the deadliest virus known. He shouldn’t have been
surprised that something as promising as gene therapy and molecular biology
could be bastardized to kill rather than cure. Humanity seemed to have a
singular ability to find destructive uses for any constructive technology. Invent
the computer, and you could be certain someone would invent computer viruses
and other ways to attack it. Invent the Internet, an unimaginable treasure
trove of information, and you could bet it would be used as a recruiting tool
for hate mongers and instantly turned into a venue for child pornographers,
sexual predators, and scam artists. Humanity never failed to find a way to
become its own worst enemy.
    “I
still don’t see how the terrorists can be certain of avoiding the Ebola genes
themselves,” said Desh.
    “They
can’t be. But there’s more to the story. This is where the molecular trigger
comes in. Remember, the genes don’t only have to be inserted, they have to be
activated.”
    “So
what activates them?”
    “We
believe she’s trying to engineer them to be triggered by a chemical. One
specific to a certain food. Ingest this chemical and the inserted Ebola genetic
material begins to be