"We All Fall Down" - читать интересную книгу автора (Harvey Michael)

CHAPTER 7

They had three black vans waiting in the parking lot behind the university lab. I got into the backseat of the middle one. Molly Carrolton hoisted herself into the driver’s side and buckled in. Ellen Brazile came out of the building last, wearing dark sunglasses and talking on her cell phone. She finished her call outside the car, then folded her long frame into the seat beside Molly. I looked behind me at a solid wall of aluminum cases.

“Bringing a few toys, huh?”

“I’ll be honest, Mr. Kelly. The last thing I wanted was you tagging along.” Brazile stared a hole through the front windshield as she spoke.

“Maybe we’ll grow on each other.”

“I doubt it.” She took a sip from an aluminum bottle that had CLEAN printed in block letters on its side. I took a look at the plastic bottle of Evian they’d given me upstairs and wondered. Carrolton accelerated to the back bumper of the van, riding point.

“What do you know about anthrax?” This time Brazile favored me with a glance. She might have even blinked.

“I know what weaponized anthrax is. And I know if it’s already been dispersed into the subway there’s little you, or anyone else, can do to prevent a lot of people from dying.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. Molly and I are scientists. We don’t care about politics. We don’t care about whatever power struggles might be going on in Washington.”

“You work for the government. Your careers depend on making someone in DC happy.”

“Our work is funded by a private consortium called CDA Labs. CDA contracts with the Department of Defense to provide cutting-edge tools in the ongoing war against chemical and biological weapons. Yes, we have ties to the government. But we don’t work for them. As such, we’re not subject to a lot of the regulations and restrictions placed on their agencies.”

“And that allows you to do what?”

“That allows us to kick some ass.” That was our driver, flashing hard eyes in the mirror and shaking out a shock of red curl. “We spend a lot of money and take a lot of chances that taxpayers might not like. But we do it because we have to, and we get results.”

Brazile snapped open a case she had by her feet and took out a small black-and-yellow device about a foot long by six inches wide.

“Know what this is?”

“Looks like a controller for an Xbox.”

“It’s called a Ceeker. It’s highly classified. In fact, there are only a handful of them available in the world.”

“I’m listening.”

“Up until recently, identifying a pathogen required the collection of samples that were ferried back to the lab for analysis. The Ceeker uses wavelengths of light and a special algorithm to identify the presence of anthrax within minutes. It’s handheld, operates on batteries, and can be used by any first responder.”

“How come I’ve never heard of it?”

“No one hears much about the war on bioweapons,” Brazile said. “Too scary.”

“How accurate is it?”

“Ninety-nine percent. At least in the lab.”

“How about in real life?”

We rolled up to the Blue Line L stop at Clinton.

“This will be the first time it’s ever been used in the field,” Brazile said.

“Great. But my point is still a valid one. If the Ceeker tells you this stuff is hot, then what? People still die.”

Molly Carrolton slipped the van into park and turned. “That’s where the cases in the back come in.”

I looked behind me. “What’s in there?”

Brazile popped open her door. “Ever heard of carbon nanotubes, Mr. Kelly?”

“No.”

“All right, then. You have a lot to learn. Let’s get suited up.”