The Atlantis Plague (36 page)

Dr. Brenner interrupted the tension. “There’s something I haven’t told you, Dr. Warner.”

“What?” Kate asked through the speakerphone, not bothering to make the call private.

“The Orchid leadership has ordered us to execute Euthanasia Protocol.”

“I don’t—”

“We had standing orders,” Brenner went on. “If either Orchid failed or the Immari ever became a viable threat, our orders were to issue cancellation commands to the implants—to let the dying die quickly. That would leave a world of Orchid survivors, a base to save the Alliance. So far, we have simply ignored those orders. We’ve focused on our research and hoped the leadership wouldn’t actually go through with the plan. But we’ve heard rumors. If we don’t execute Euthanasia Protocol, Allied troops may take control of Continuity and do it for us.”

Kate sat back against the white couch.

No one said a word.

“Can you slow down Euthanasia Protocol?” Kate asked.

“We can try. But… let’s hope your therapy works.”

Downstairs, in their stateroom, David almost screamed at Kate, “You mean you had an open line to a global consortium this whole time?”

“Yes. What?”

“Call them back. Here’s what you say…”

Kate called the Continuity number.
Dr. Brenner?—No, everything is fine. I need a favor. I need you to contact British Intelligence and ask them if they have an officer named Adam Shaw. Also, could you inquire with the World Health Organization about someone named Dr. Arthur Janus?—Yes, that would be very helpful.—Fine. Call me back as soon as you know. It’s very important.

Dr. Paul Brenner hung up the phone and glanced at the names. Shaw and Janus. What was happening on board that boat? Was Kate in danger?

He had actually grown quite attached to her. Seeing her in the videos for weeks, then talking with her in person. It was almost as though she were some “dream girl” come to life.

He hoped she would be all right. He picked up the phone and dialed his contacts at the WHO and British Intelligence. Each promised they would call back as soon as they had answers.

Paul had one more call to make—he hoped—but it would have to wait on Symphony, on the results.

He exited his office and walked down the hall of the CDC office building. The mood was dismal; everyone was overworked and burned out. Spirits were low, and for good reason: they had made no progress on a cure for the plague and had no prospects—not until the call from Kate nearly half an hour ago.

How long would it take Symphony? If there even was a cure to find in the research Kate and her team had sent…

The glass wall that held Orchid Ops parted, two glass pieces sliding to let him pass. Every head in the converted conference room turned to him. The scene was like the study hall of a college dorm, where students had crammed for sixty days straight: the conference tables were arranged haphazardly, littered with laptops, stacks of papers, maps, coffee-stained reports, and half-full Styrofoam cups.

The looks on their faces told Paul everything he needed to know.

The four large screens that dotted the walls confirmed it. The flashing text read:
One therapy identified
.

They had seen this text so many times before, and the celebration each time had been a little more muted than the previous. But the atmosphere felt different now. The team swarmed Paul, and everyone was talking excitedly about the new data and what to do next. Research sites were proposed and shot down.

“We test it here, on our own cohort,” Paul said.

“Are you sure?”

“We’ve got some people that can’t wait.” He glanced at the Euthanasia Protocol countdown. Less than four hours left. There were a lot of people that couldn’t wait.

But he wanted to be sure before they rolled it out worldwide. He had a phone call to make.

On his way back to his office, Paul stopped by the makeshift infirmary.

He stood at his sister’s bedside. Her breathing was shallow, but he knew she recognized him. She reached out for his hand.

He stepped forward to take her hand. Her grip was weak.

“I think we’ve found it, Elaine. You’re going to be just fine.”

He felt her hand squeeze his, ever so slightly.

Paul picked up the phone. Several minutes later, he was connected to the Situation Room in the White House.

“Mr. President, we have a new therapy. We’re extremely optimistic. I’m asking you to delay Euthanasia Protocol.”

CHAPTER 70

Somewhere near Isla de Alborán
Mediterranean Sea

“How long?” David demanded.

“Brenner said he would get back to me as soon as possible. Continuity has their hands full—”

“We’ll be at Isla de Alborán within three hours. When we get there, I’ll have to arm Shaw and Kamau and do something with the scientists. We need to figure out which one of them killed Martin and disabled the boat. ”

Kate sat on the bed. She knew if they began debating the killer it would simply devolve into another fight. And she didn’t want to fight, not with him, not at that moment. She slipped her shirt off and threw it on the chair.

David’s eyes flashed. He took out his sidearm and covered it with a pillow. He pulled his shirt off, then his pants.

He stepped toward Kate, and she kissed his abdomen. He pushed her down onto the bed and crawled on top of her.

For a moment, the entire world outside faded away. She didn’t think about the plague, or the Immari, or Martin’s note, or the killer on board. David. He was all she wanted, the only thing in the world that mattered to her.

It was hot as blazes belowdecks, but David hadn’t bothered to adjust the air.

He rolled over on the bed and lay there naked, beside Kate, both of their bodies soaked with sweat. His breathing slowed before hers, but neither said a word.

Time stood still. They both stared at the ceiling. David didn’t know how long it had been, but Kate turned to him and kissed his neck just below his chin.

The sensation brought him out of the moment, and David asked the question he had avoided thinking about since the call with Dr. Brenner. “You think this is going to work? That Continuity can just take Janus and Chang’s research and just… I don’t know, ‘
snap it together
’ like the Triforce and magically have the cure?”

“Triforce?”

“Seriously?”

“What?”

“From Zelda,” David said. “You know, Link collects the Triforce to rescue Princess Zelda and save Hyrule.”

“I never saw it.”

“It’s uh… a video game, not a movie.”
How can she not know this?
That was more shocking to David than Martin’s code. But… it was a discussion for another day. She probably also didn’t know the difference between
Star Wars
and
Star Trek
. He likely had a lot of work to do, assuming they lived through the next few hours. “Look, forget Zelda, my question is whether this can work. Do you believe it?”

“I have to. We’re doing all we can and that’s all we can do.”

David lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling again. What was the point he was trying to make? He didn’t even know. All of a sudden, he felt scared. Apprehensive. It wasn’t the battle that loomed on the horizon. It was something else, a feeling he couldn’t put his finger on.

Kate sat up again. “How do you know so much about boats?” She was trying to change the subject.

“I used to own one in Jakarta.”

“Didn’t know secret agents had time for leisurely activities like boating,” she said, somewhat playfully.

David smiled. “It wasn’t a boat of leisure, I assure you. But it could have been. It was an element of an escape plan—if I ever needed it. And it came in handy, if you recall.”

“I can’t recall. I wish I could.” She straightened the covers.

She was right; David remembered now. The Immari had drugged her during her interrogation. She remembered very little from his rescue of her and their escape.

“What did you do with it?” she asked.

“The boat? Gave it to a Jakartan fisherman.” He smiled and looked away. “It was a good boat though.” At that moment he wondered where the boat was, if Harto had taken his family from the main island of Java to one of thousands of smaller uninhabited islands in the Java Sea. They would have a chance there. Harto could fish, and his family could gather. The plague couldn’t touch them there and the Immari wouldn’t come after a few people on a deserted island. The way the world was going, they could end up being the last people on earth. Maybe the world would be better off that way, if simple people inherited the earth and lived as humans had for ninety-nine percent of its history.