much older plague, to increase its virulence.”
The news worried Marc. They knew Adami intended to create bioweapons, but this was much worse than any of them had dared imagine. “And if he is successful?”
She stared into the cup of tea before looking up at him, her dark eyes reflecting her worry. “Past attempts to weaponize plagues and viruses have been largely unproductive, due to heat and shock from explosives, never mind simple exposure to sun. And any biomatter that survived and found its target in the population was quickly contained, because the disease did not spread fast enough. But if Adami is able to develop this super-plague—genetically engineer it so that it will survive the heat, retain its virulence, in fact make it hypervirulent—he could wipe out whole cities before the world is able to do a thing. Adami is trying to create a hypervirulent, antibiotic-resistant, airborne plague. Airborne pneumonic plague would spread from person to person, and by the time the first fever appeared, it would be too late. Within days, thousands would be dead and the remaining population would be dying. The only answer would be to isolate the city, restrict travel so that no one could leave—hope no one has left—then let the population die out.”
“And since he is eliminating all the microbiologists one by one, if we uncover what he has done, we can’t control it?”
“That is one of the most frightening aspects about this. By the time the world caught up with what was happening, by the time they even realized the need for massive antibiotics—if such measures even worked with this new super-plague he intends to develop—it would be too late. Even more frightening is this: What if Adami’s scientists can’t control it? If he is effectively eliminating anyone in the free world who has a hope at containing such a threat, and he controls the scientists who have developed this new strain, who will put it back in the bottle once it is released?”
“Then let’s hope this information we’ve gotten about his lab being here in Tunisia is accurate. We can at least eliminate that part of the threat. What is your next step?”
“The warehouse is located near a small private strip at a compound south of here, used by Adami’s Tunisia corporation. Should they suspect that we are on to them, they could possibly move their lab and we are back to square one, so whatever we do, we’ll have to move quickly. We’ve had our eye on this place since you called. They’re very meticulous about who they let in, turning anyone away who is not on their schedule of deliveries. If we can’t figure out a way to get to that schedule and get the proper IDs, we won’t be able to pass the guards into the compound.”
“And what is it you need me to do?”
She sipped her tea, then smiled that smile he knew so well. “Break into their security building and get a copy of the schedule, of course.”
19
That old saying of not getting in the car with strangers circled the back of Sydney’s mind as Dumas started his car and drove away from the academy. He hadn’t exactly convinced the professor to hand over the package, but he had given a good argument for the two of them to accompany him to a very public location away from the ambassador’s residence, and they could discuss the matter there. The professor had agreed reluctantly, which meant Sydney had no choice but to remain with them or risk losing sight of the professor’s briefcase that now contained the package Alessandra had mailed to her.
Which is why Sydney sat in the back of the car, the better to watch Dumas.
Then again, if something happened, she needed to know where they were, so it was one eye on Dumas, and the other trying to pay attention to her surroundings. As he sped down the street, then slowed for a turn, she saw the street name set into the side of a corner building reading “Via Giacomo Medici.” As he turned, another sign read “Via Garibaldi,” and then he slowed around a curve, past a massive marble edifice with a magnificent series of baroque arches, where water gushed from fountains into a pool. A bride and groom stood in front of the fountain, embracing, while a photographer snapped photos. “Where are we going?” Sydney asked.
Dumas replied, “Passegiata del Gianicolo. There are enough people there for safety.” By the time that Dumas drove