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expressed by victims’ cells. And once the genes have been
triggered, there’s no stopping them. People’s own cells are transformed into
ticking time bombs. A few days to a few weeks later, boom!—you’re dead.” Connelly
raised his eyebrows. “Any guesses as to what food sets it off?”
    Desh
looked blank.
    “Pork.”
    Desh's
eyes widened. Of course it would be pork. What else? Only those at the pinnacle
of the Jihadist pyramid would know of the plot, but since ingestion of pork was
forbidden in the Muslim religion, their followers would be safe. And Desh knew
how these people thought. In their eyes, any Muslim around the world who ignored
this prohibition and did eat pork deserved
to die anyway.
    “Our
organic chemists tell me there are several complex molecules that are
swine-specific. We believe the Ebola genes are set to be triggered by one of
them. But even though the genes are triggered, the viral parts aren't present,
so it isn't infectious like the natural Ebola. That’s what keeps the terrorists
safe. As long as they don’t eat pork, they have nothing to worry about.”
    Desh’s
lip curled up in disgust. It was a masterful plan from the terrorist’s
perspective. And as utterly horrific as their strategy was, it was not without
its boldness or creativity. Ironically, in addition to devout Muslims,
religious Jews would also be spared. This would be the only fly in the ointment
of an otherwise ideal plan from the terrorists’ perspective. The fact that
their most hated enemy would remain untouched would sit like open sores in
their stomachs.
    “Can
she really pull it off?” he asked
    “This
is as difficult a genetic engineering project as there is, but if anyone in the
world can do it, Kira Miller can. She's that good.”
    “And
the expected casualties?”
    “Depends
on how efficiently her designed virus can insert the genes, and how efficiently
the pork-specific organic chemicals can trigger them. Worst case, hundreds of
millions around the world. Best case, given the high quality of medicine in the
West, maybe a few hundred thousand.”
    The
color drained from Desh’s face. This attack had the potential to be more costly
in human lives than a nuclear bomb set off in a population center. And the very
nature of the attack would unleash a raging wildfire of irrationality and panic
that could have an incalculable effect on civilization. “And this would be only
the beginning,” he whispered to Connelly.
    “That's
right,” said Connelly. “People would fear they had other Trojan Horses buried
in their genetic material, primed to go off with one wrong bite. No one would
know what foods to trust. Rumors would race around the world. Fear would be at
a fever pitch. Economies would collapse. The most ordered societies would
degenerate into chaos and devastation almost overnight.”
    Desh
knew this plan could set civilization back hundreds of years—which is exactly
what the Jihadists wanted. No wonder Kira Miller was so wealthy. If she could
convince Al-Qaeda she could execute on this plan, she could name her price. Death
and devastation on a vast scale wouldn't trouble a soulless psychopath like her
in the least.
    “At
some point, we may be forced to issue a warning not to eat pork,” said Connelly.
“But this wouldn't buy us all that much. The warning itself would incite some
of the panic we're trying to avoid. Many wouldn’t get the message and still
others would ignore it, believing it to be a government conspiracy. And we
believe the Jihadists have a contingency version ready to go, with a different
trigger. So sounding the alarm would just push them into plan B. The terrorist
leaders would still know which foods to avoid, although since they’d only risk
sharing this secret with a select few, they’d lose far more of their followers
under this scenario.”
    Desh
shook his head in disgust. If it came to that, the need to sacrifice scores of
their followers for the cause would not give them