trained, or will it constantly rebel and fight? The same is true of people. There are natural leaders, and natural followers, but to different degrees. What the Group intends to do is use a manufactured retrovirus to infect and alter the living human genome and strengthen those genes responsible for passive, obedient behaviour at the expense of others likely to encourage resistance. These traits will be passed down through successive generations, until the whole world will happily accept the control of a self-chosen ruling elite.’
Silence followed the revelation. ‘That sounds . . . hard to believe,’ Eddie eventually managed.
‘You think so?’ Glas turned again, staring out into the darkness. ‘Anyone can kill another person. Controlling another person is harder. If they succeed, though, the Group will control everyone beneath them – and their subjects will willingly obey, because they have no choice. Obedience will be programmed into their genes, as inescapable as the colour of their skin. To end conflict, the price will be freedom.’ He looked back at them. ‘Is that a price you are willing to pay?’
Nina didn’t answer, stunned by the implications of Glas’s words. If he were telling the truth, then from birth to death a person would be trapped in a life of placid submission to an authority over which they had no control, in which they had no voice. And worse, they would meekly accept such a system as the norm – as the only way to live. It was authoritarianism to a monstrous degree, a horrific Brave New World with no hope, or even thought, of escape or rebellion.
The image of Lola, heavy with her impending child, sprang into her mind. If the Group achieved their goal, the baby would face a grim future where every path had been mapped out in advance by someone else. No choices, no opportunity to find its own way through life . . .
‘Can they actually do it?’ she demanded. ‘I mean, if they got hold of the meteorite, and assuming it really is possible, how long would it take them to carry out this plan? Years? Months?’
‘Weeks,’ Glas told her.
‘Yeah, I was afraid you’d say that.’
‘Could be worse, could’ve been days,’ Eddie offered.
‘They’ve already done a lot of the preliminary work,’ Sophia said, stepping forward, ‘by farming it out to genetic research companies they control – in pieces, so nobody sees the full picture.’
‘Until it’s too late,’ Glas added ominously. ‘They are doing the same thing as the Frosts, and Khalid Osir and his brother. The theoretical work has already been carried out. All they need is a sample of the DNA to put it into practice. As soon as they obtain the meteorite, the plan will begin.’
‘So how long would it take to infect everybody?’ Eddie asked.
‘The virus would spread like any other highly infectious pathogen, such as an influenza strain. It could reach every country in the world within a year, and potentially have infected the entire worldwide population in three.’
‘What about a cure?’ said Nina.
‘The Group won’t develop a cure. That would defeat the purpose of the virus. But they will have an immunising agent, a vaccine. They want to be sure they can choose who will be part of the elite. And like the virus, the vaccine will also work at the genetic level, passing down through generations. It will be the ultimate hereditary dynasty, monopolising power over mankind – over the human will. They must be stopped. At any cost.’
‘You were part of the Group,’ Nina said accusingly. ‘Couldn’t you have talked them out of it?’
‘The Group is, believe it or not, a democracy,’ Glas replied, clearly disgusted by the irony. ‘I was the only member who opposed the plan. When I took my opposition further than just words, they . . . retaliated.’ He looked down at his useless legs. ‘They sent their new attack dog after me – Stikes. My people got me to safety, but only after I had been shot. I was lucky to survive.’
‘They tried to kill you?’
‘They tried to destroy me, in every way. My life, my reputation, my business, were all attacked. I was turned into a criminal without trial.’
‘I know how that feels,’ said Eddie.
‘And you know what it is like to be on the run, Mr Chase.’
‘Yeah. I didn’t have my own personal submarine to use as a hideout, though.’ He waved a disparaging hand at the vessel around them. ‘Only way you could be any more like a Bond villain is