Instinct (2010) (12 page)

‘We have to try
something
. You worked under Dr Heath for several years, so you must know how he thinks. At the very least, we’d like your read on the situation I’ve just explained. And if you could find a little more time, we’d also be keen to make use of your expertise throughout the complex, just to steady the ship a little before we find a more permanent replacement.’

The request Laura had turned down almost two days earlier now looked very different. She had already made the journey, and she might be placing these people at greater risk by refusing to help. She didn’t want to let Bishop win, but the opportunity to find out more about these wasps was even more of an incentive now she’d seen them first-hand.

‘OK. Whatever else happens, I want to leave with Andrew as soon as possible. But while I’m waiting to do that, I suppose I could help you out.’

‘That is very kind of you. Above and beyond – particularly in light of the circumstances. And the moment we’ve arranged transport out of here, you and Andrew will be on it and heading home. I can’t thank you enough, Dr Trent. This will mean an enormous amount to everyone here.’ Bishop was beaming like a reprieved murderer.

Laura was businesslike in return. ‘Perhaps you ought to show me these wasps.’

Bishop ushered Laura out of his office in a ‘ladies first’ gesture of oleaginous insincerity.

‘I’ll just look in on Andrew,’ she said. Hearing this, Andrew switched
Seven
back to
E.T.
and pretended to flick idly through a six-year-old copy of
GQ
.

‘Mr Bishop is just going to take me on a quick tour of the labs. We’ll be back in ten minutes or so.’ Andrew barely looked up from the article on shopping at Neiman Marcus. He had no idea what Neiman Marcus was, but he thought that if he looked interested in it his mum wouldn’t check back anytime soon and he’d be able to get another half-hour of
Seven
in before she returned.

Laura and Bishop walked through to the corridor opposite the elevator.

‘Welcome to the Thorax,’ said Bishop, striding ahead. He pointed back to where they had just come from. ‘We call the administrative area the Head. Kind of our little entomological joke.’ Laura’s expression remained unchanged as Bishop continued. He gestured towards the room to the left of the elevator. On one side of it, behind a window of Perspex, a thin, intense-looking Japanese man was deep in concentration. He was taking readings from a series of gauges on the wall and
comparing them to what was written on his clipboard. Laura didn’t recognize any of the equipment arranged on the tables behind him. There were several rows of what looked like miniature satellite dishes connected by rows of red lasers wired up to a central computer.

The man was joined from the other side of the lab by his assistant, a woman whose raked-back hair and lack of make-up failed to disguise a soft prettiness that didn’t belong here. She opened a drawer and carefully brought out a plastic case containing one of the giant wasps Laura had seen in the desert. The two scientists examined and discussed the insect before placing it into another drawer.

Laura could have stood there all day, watching these fascinating subjects and the systems that enabled their investigation, however, Bishop was in a hurry.

‘This is the holding bay. On a job, there will be up to one thousand wasps, depending on the number of targets. Of course, they all require meticulous preparation, and that’s down to those two: Dale Takeshi has been here five or six years, and Susan Myers is two years out of college.’

‘What did you do to blackmail them?’ asked Laura, still gazing into the lab.

Bishop smiled. ‘You may be delighted to know that we don’t use the same methods to entice everybody to MEROS. Some of them actually come based on a patriotic calling or a devotion to the advancement of their field of science.’

‘But most are blackmailed.’

‘Most are blackmailed, yes. Moving on. Takeshi and Susan ensure that the wasps are ready to be deployed and in a proper state for transport: warm enough, docile enough, potentially aggressive enough, etcetera, etcetera. As you can see, there are holding cases and tunnels in place so that no one here ever has to touch a wasp. The delicate balance of genetics and, for want of a better phrase, ‘state of mind’ before the wasps are used is critical to the success of the ten to fifteen missions we complete each year.’

‘Out of interest, what happens if you have a mission in a very cold region?’

‘Well, we haven’t yet managed to develop wasps that can stay alive long enough. However, we think the nest David was experimenting on when he died may be able to withstand temperatures lower than anything we’ve generated before. That could have been of great use to us; all it’s doing now is adding to the pain in the ass. Thankfully, nearly all our greatest enemies exist in warmer parts of the world. One of the reasons why the Pentagon loves us so much.’

‘And you just let these wasps loose by opening a box?’

Bishop gave a small chuckle. ‘No, Dr Trent, we do not
let them loose by opening a box
. Although that part of our operations need not concern you, we use a container made of a highly volatile compound of our own devising. One hour’s exposure to oxygen, and the container disintegrates. Then the wasps are attracted to a pre-applied pheromone that will have been administered by another branch of the US military, generally
under the impression that they are helping us to track the subject, rather than kill him, or her.’

‘Fascinating,’ said Laura. To Bishop’s panicked dismay, she then opened the door to the holding bay and walked towards Susan and Takeshi.

‘Uh, this is Laura Trent, one of the finest genetic entomologists working today,’ said Bishop quickly. ‘Dr Trent, Susan Myers and Dale Takeshi.’ They shook hands.

Takeshi removed his glasses and smiled shyly. ‘I am pleased to meet you, Dr Trent. Are you going to be working with Professor Heath?’ Laura looked around at Bishop.

‘We’re just discussing the best way to arrange that,’ Bishop muttered.

‘The professor is a bit of a recluse, so a little more one-to-one contact with someone would be helpful, if only to clarify certain aspects of the new developments,’ said Susan.

‘I’ll see what I can do.’

‘It would probably be beneficial to the …’

‘I’m sorry, Takeshi, but we’re in kind of a hurry here,’ said Bishop.

‘No, it’s OK. What were you going to say?’ asked Laura.

‘Uh, well, it would probably be beneficial to be kept apprised of the changes that are taking place. The more notice we have of any alterations, the more efficiently we can take them into account and incorporate them into our methodology.’

‘And if you’re able to take a look at the aggression
levels sometime soon, that would also help. The recent ones have been harder to control,’ added Susan.

‘Yes, of course.’

With that, Bishop gave Takeshi and Susan something approximating a smile and manoeuvred Laura towards the door.

As soon as they were out of sight of the lab window, Bishop spoke quietly and urgently close up to Laura’s face. ‘OK, before you say anything, no, they do not know about Professor Heath’s unfortunate accident. As you heard from Takeshi, they never really see much of him …’

‘Never really
saw
much of him.’

‘Exactly. So we made the decision not to worry the others any more than is strictly necessary. The soldiers had to know about it, but if the scientists were aware of the situation with the new swarm then we would not have such an efficient workforce and that would be something of an inconvenience right in the middle of a mission. If we can bring the problem under control without any of them knowing the details of what went on, then so much the better.’

Laura looked at him as if she were a headmistress who had just been lied to by an earnest pupil who was hoping, rather than expecting, to get away with something.

‘What?’ asked Bishop, attempting to prolong the pretence of his innocence.

‘Nothing. Just getting a clearer picture of the kind of ship you run here, Mr Bishop.’

‘Look, Dr Trent, the staff at MEROS are doing a valuable job that has its unpleasant aspects. If I can make it slightly less unpleasant by not telling them about every little negative occurrence that happens here, then I think that’s excusable.’

‘Well, I can’t argue with that.’

The next area looked more like the conventional labs Laura was accustomed to working in, except that the equipment was greatly advanced. Every surface was pure white, so much so that Laura had to ask how they maintained such a sterile environment.

‘It’s remarkably clean down here. You know, I always wondered what the James Bond villains did with the builders who made the secret hideouts. Is it the same thing you do with the cleaners?’

‘Hardly. These labs are all self-cleaning. You may not have noticed but, in the elevator, you were being sterilized. The environment here is micro-organism-free through the use of convection currents. They circulate the air through gaps in the walls into a cavity of microscopic incinerators, which destroy 99.9 per cent of anything they come into contact with, so no cleaners to kill. It’s all part of the way this facility was built: automation wherever possible. It reduces the need for staff, something which has obvious benefits.’

He turned to the next window. ‘These are the experimental labs where David’s work was taken on and developed with a little more rigour. The stations at the front are used to conduct research with individual
subjects, while the wider area behind it creates simulations of field conditions.’

Bishop pointed to a tall, thin man who was better dressed than the others, his white lab coat covering a brown wool suit whose cream pinstripes made him appear even taller. His face had a jowly length to it, as if it had melted a little in the heat, and it was topped off by a shining dome, cropped close in the few places where it had yet to go bald. As he looked up and made eye contact with Laura, he smiled with a warmth that was at odds with his otherwise unforgiving demeanour.

‘That’s Harry Merchant. He’s in charge of the day-to-day lab work. He oversees the other scientists’ testing of Heath’s advances to make sure they are applied correctly. He’s managed to isolate many emotional and behavioural characteristics of wasps in such a way that we can use them almost like the ingredients of a cake. A very complicated cake, of course, but to Harry it’s so much flour and butter. The labs go back a way. Usually there’s something like fifty separate experiments at various stages of development helping us to improve the methods we use to deploy the wasps.’

‘And why are there so few people working here? I have more in my lab at home.’

‘Well, we can’t exactly advertise in the wanted column. This is a very specialized job, and as much as we keep an eye on all the rising stars of genetic entomology, there is a small supply against an increasing demand. Over the years, we have designed operations here to take that into account. Many of
the experiments can simply be set automatically and monitored as required.’

Laura was glad to move on. They returned to the start of the corridor and now faced the elevator in the wide lobby area. The rooms to their right looked very different to the labs: darker, yet friendlier and more accessible. Laura could see a locker room, with doors beyond it leading off to other areas that looked similarly basic.

‘These are the living quarters, where all the personnel except for myself are based. The scientists’ rooms are on the left, while Major Webster’s team lives and trains on the other side.

‘Just quickly, the major is one of those old pros who can do his job in the dark and the snow because sometimes he has to. He’s reliability personified and has run the military part of this operation since day one. SAS, Navy Seals, Israeli Special Forces, he’s done years with them all. We only got him because he was going through his second divorce, needed a lot of money, signed up for a year and stayed ever since. There’s usually ten in the team; unfortunately, that’s down to eight, for the reasons you already know about. Those are the first casualties Carl has had to deal with for a long time, and he doesn’t want any more. The team is at your disposal though, if you need them.’

A couple of days ago, Laura could not have envisaged a situation where she would have to make use of a team of highly trained soldiers; now, she could think of many.

‘OK, that’s the basic tour over.’ Bishop unclipped a walkie-talkie from his belt.

‘Major Webster, can we have you plus whoever is available to escort us to Station A.’ He turned to Laura. ‘Best to be on the safe side.’

They waited for Webster, Bishop rocking on his heels and Laura trying to see what was going on in Harry Merchant’s lab. The closest person to the window was Harry himself, and Laura watched as he injected a wasp with a tiny syringe. He withdrew the syringe, and let the wasp go, keeping an eye on its progress as it pottered unsteadily around the glass cube that enclosed it. Obviously this was not what Harry had been looking for, but Laura was taken aback to see him reach into one of the gloves that was attached to the near side of the cube and squash the insect to a mustard-yellow smear. As soon as he did that, a small swarm in an adjacent tank flew towards what was left of the dead wasp, and Harry noted their behaviour on a handheld computer. It was at that moment that Laura realized how MEROS research differed from her own: all her experiments were carried out in such a way that the potential harm to any living creature was kept to an absolute minimum.
Here there was something more purposeful; more of a sweeping stride than a gentle amble to greater knowledge.

She was of course aware of the alarm pheromone that was released when a wasp was in danger or engaged in an attack, which drew all the other nearby wasps to its aid, but she would never have killed one wasp to
provoke that reaction in others. Harry looked up to see Laura watching the commotion, and his smile became a look of uncomfortable embarrassment, as if he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t.