have a copy of Foster Winfield’s letter and the agency’s response,” Lancer said.
“Could I see that?” Hunter asked. “I’ll attach it to my report to the director for his brief to the Oval Office.” Hunter then took stock of the room and shook his head.
Roth refrained from looking at Lancer.
“Sir,” Roth continued, “since we’ve been investigating we’ve discovered that files and material from Crucible are missing, dating back to the time the project was abandoned.”
“Christ.” Hunter clicked his poised pen. “What’s missing?”
“Samples of Marburg and anthrax.”
“Christ,” Hunter said. “What else?”
“A number of other materials and files.”
“And no one knew?”
“It first appeared to be an inventory error. Dangerous material was to have been destroyed or locked away years ago. But our further investigation, prompted by Winfield’s letter, confirms material was never destroyed and has, in fact, been missing since Crucible was phased out.”
“And you’ve accounted for and interviewed all former personnel?”
“We’re in the process.”
“Listen up.” Hunter’s jaw was pulsating. “You find every scientist who worked on this nightmare and get them to Detrick ASAP to, first, help us determine who’s behind the missing material and, second, help our people there analyze the tissue to determine what we’re dealing with.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you hold them until we determine what the hell we’ve got and who’s responsible. And to the rest of you—don’t let your guard down or rule out other sources.”
Hunter stood, gathered his material and glared in Roth’s direction.
“You get those scientists to Fort Detrick—now,” Hunter said.
As the meeting broke up, Lancer went to Roth and Webb.
“Marburg and anthrax? That’s a witch’s brew—how do you lose that right from under your own noses?”
Roth and Webb glared at Lancer without speaking.
“Would you guys like some help?” Lancer asked. “I could use some help locating Sutsoff.”
The agents began walking away.
“We’re supposed to work together to connect the dots, break down these compartmentalized barriers.”
“Stay out of our way, Lancer.”
Lancer left the room and the building, and hurried to his car.
Dammit, is this all connected? Is something big coming down?
A million scenarios shot through Lancer’s mind as he drove across Fairfax County to the Anti-Threat Center. When he came to a red light, his cell phone rang. He pulled over to answer it.
“This is Jack Gannon with the World Press Alliance.”
“Yes.”
“Are you the agent who was with me in Libya?”
“Yes.”
“I have to be sure. What was the name of the man I was supposed to meet?”
“Corley.”
“I have information that might be critical to both of us.”
“I’m listening.”
“Before I go ahead, I want a name. I want to know who I’m dealing with.”
Lancer hesitated. “None of this ever goes in print, you swear.”
“You’ve seen what I’ve gone through for this story.”
“Lancer, Robert Lancer, FBI, tasked to Anti-Threat Operations.”
Gannon explained Emma Lane’s case, the accident that killed her husband, her conviction that her baby was alive and the connection to the clinic and Polly Larenski.
“What sort of information was this Polly selling?”
“DNA.”
A car horn sounded behind Lancer and he realized he was blocking a lane.
“Hold on.”
He wheeled his car around to a strip-mall parking lot and continued his conversation with Gannon.
“Lancer, I have two phone numbers. You have to search the phone records and see who was buying DNA from Polly Larenski. It could lead us to whoever is behind the child trafficking.”
“I’d need to get warrants. You should call the local police.”
“No. She tried that, there’s no time. These numbers are critical.”
“I need to know how you got your information.”
Gannon hesitated.
“Jack, what led you to Emma Lane and the DNA angle?”
Gannon was deciding on how much to share with Lancer.
“Come on, Gannon!”
“Corley sent me his files.”
“What?”
“Before I was supposed to meet him, he’d made arrangements to send me a memory card. He thought he was being watched. The card came to the hotel before I left and I read the files on the plane home.”
This changed everything.
“Are you withholding evidence? You’d better turn those files over to us.”
“I’m sharing the information. Listen, Emma Lane’s file was in Corley’s information. There’s some sort of connection to her baby’s DNA. Lancer, you have to search the call history of these two numbers, look for a similar number on both. One is Polly Larenski’s home, and one is a pay phone near her home.”
“I want that memory card, Gannon.”
“We can’t waste time!”
“Give me the numbers and let’s go over everything one more time.”
56
Big Cloud, Wyoming
Swirls of scorched pavement marked the spot where Emma Lane had lost her husband and baby boy.
Today under the morning sun, she knelt near it, where