Desh frowned and was silent for several long seconds, digesting what he had been told so far. "You said her parents were deceased. How did they die?"

"I figured you'd jump to this question," said Connelly approvingly. "You really do have a singular talent for connecting dots."

"Thanks, Colonel," said Desh. "But these particular dots aren't exactly difficult to connect."

"You'd be surprised. Anyway, to answer your question, her parents both died in the same auto accident. While she was in high school. As with Morgan, the police didn't suspect foul play at the time and didn't do much of an investigation. But in light of everything else, it's not hard to imagine that their daughter was behind it."

Desh knew signs of sociopathy were usually present from a very young age if anyone was looking in the right direction. If Kira Miller could torch her brother in cold blood, she wouldn't likely be squeamish about killing her parents either. A thorough examination of mysterious deaths and disappearances with her as epicenter was almost certain to be revealing. Perhaps brother Alan had been helping this private investigator, Larry Lusetti. This was as good a conjecture as any for why she killed him so soon after recovering the file Lusetti had on her. Alan Miller could probably have pulled any number of skeletons from his little sister's closeta"perhaps literally.

"Any other unexplained accidents in her wake?" said Desh.

Connelly nodded grimly. "An uncle drowned while swimming alone when she was twelve. And he was known to be a very strong swimmer. There were two other incidents involving teachers at Kira's high school the next year. One turned up dead in her apartment, her face so badly eaten away by sulfuric acid it was unrecognizable. The other went missing and was never found. Neither case was ever solved."

So the breathtaking, fresh-faced girl smiling in the photo was a psychopath, and was at the very least a double murderer. The tale Connelly had spun was truly grisly. But Desh knew the worst was yet to come. There was only one reason any of this would warrant the colonel's attention. "So what's the terrorism connection?"

Connelly sighed heavily, as if he had hoped he could somehow avoid this discussion. He rubbed his mustache once again and said, "As the Lusetti investigation and hunt for Kira Miller continued, the police found evidence that she had been in communication with several known terrorist organizations, including Al-Qaeda and Islamic Jihad."

"Nice groups," said Desh dryly.

"The case was turned over to Homeland Security. There's a detailed report in the accordion file, but they quickly found that she had millions of dollars deposited in banks throughout the world, well hidden, including several numbered Swiss accounts. They're certain they haven't found it all. The methods she used to obscure the trail between herself and her money were quite sophisticated. They also found several false ident.i.ties, and are convinced she has more."

"Working with Jihadists is an interesting choice for a Western woman, even for a sociopath. These groups aren't exactly known for being progressive when it comes to a woman's place in society."

"It's a puzzle alright. She's not Muslim and there's no evidence she ever supported this ideology. She could be in it just for money, but somehow I think there's something we're missing."

"Do you think she's attracted to the danger of working with terrorists?"

Connelly shrugged. "It's impossible to say. Normal motives don't necessarily apply to psychopathic personalities. Jeffrey Dahmer murdered and cannibalized seventeen people, three of whose skulls were found in his refrigerator."

"That's perfectly rational behavior," said Desh sarcastically. "He just didn't want them to spoil."

A smile flashed across Connelly's face, but only for a moment. "You'll read in the report that they found a flotation tank in her condo," he continued. "Top of the line. That's a pretty unusual device to have taking up s.p.a.ce in your living room."

"Flotation tank?"

"They used to be called sensory deprivation chambers. Basically a giant coffin filled with water and Epsom salt. Seal yourself up in one and you bob around like a cork, weightless, in total silence and total darkness. You receive virtually no sensory input while inside." Connelly grimaced. "One can only imagine what she was doing with it. Performing bizarre rituals? Locking people in for days at a time as a means of torture?" he shuddered. "This girl is our worst nightmare: brilliant and totally unpredictable. No conscience; no remorse."

The room fell silent. Both men were alone with their thoughts. Desh knew that any problem Connelly had that he couldn't solve with his vast resources and was important enough for him to summon Desh had to be very, very ugly. He wasn't sure he really wanted to know what it was. Maybe he should just leave now. What did it matter, anyway? Stop one villain and another would always spring up to take his place. But he couldn't bring himself to walk away, at least not until his curiosity was satisfied.

Desh took a deep breath and locked his eyes on Connelly. "So let's cut to the chase, Colonel. What are we really talking about here, biological warfare?"

Connelly frowned. "That's right. And she's the best arounda"maybe ever." Connelly's demeanor, already fairly grim due to the nature of the events he had been reporting, took a sharp turn for the worse.

"With her skills and experience engineering viruses," said Desh, "I'm sure she could make them more deadly and contagious. But to what end? You can't contain them. They could easily boomerang back on the terrorists. I know these groups aren't very selective in who they kill, but their leaders, at least, aren't in any hurry to meet the seventy-two virgins awaiting them in heaven."

"My bioweapons experts tell me someone with her skill can get around the containment issue by designing in molecular triggers. The DNA not only has to be inserted, it has to be read and turned into gene products," explained Connelly. "There are promoter regions on the DNA that control under what circ.u.mstances this happens. Triggers. Someone as talented as Kira Miller can engineer these to her specifications. Like a Trojan Horse virus that infects your computer. It lies dormant until whatever predetermined time the a.s.shole who invented it has specified. Then it emerges and demolishes your files."

Connelly took a deep breath and then continued. "We think she's engineering the common cold virus to insert specific Ebola virus genes into human chromosomes like a retrovirus does," he said gravely. "As with any cold, it would spread quickly. But now, in addition to a runny nose, those infected would get a bonus: the genes responsible for the ma.s.sive hemorrhagic fever a.s.sociated with Ebola. This is almost always fatal. Victims suffer from fever, vomiting, diarrhea, and uncontrollable bleeding, both internally and externallya"from the corners of their eyes, their nosea"everywhere."

Desh's stomach tightened. Ebola was the deadliest virus known. He shouldn't have been surprised that something as promising as gene therapy and molecular biology could be b.a.s.t.a.r.dized to kill rather than cure. Humanity seemed to have a singular ability to find destructive uses for any constructive technology. Invent the computer, and you could be certain someone would invent computer viruses and other ways to attack it. Invent the Internet, an unimaginable treasure trove of information, and you could bet it would be used as a recruiting tool for hate mongers and instantly turned into a venue for child p.o.r.nographers, s.e.xual predators, and scam artists. Humanity never failed to find a way to become its own worst enemy.

"I still don't see how the terrorists can be certain of avoiding the Ebola genes themselves," said Desh.

"They can't be. But there's more to the story. This is where the molecular trigger comes in. Remember, the genes don't only have to be inserted, they have to be activated."

"So what activates them?"

"We believe she's trying to engineer them to be triggered by a chemical. One specific to a certain food. Ingest this chemical and the inserted Ebola genetic material begins to be expressed by victims' cells. And once the genes have been triggered, there's no stopping them. People's own cells are transformed into ticking time bombs. A few days to a few weeks later, boom!a"you're dead." Connelly raised his eyebrows. "Any guesses as to what food sets it off?"

Desh looked blank.

"Pork."

Desh's eyes widened. Of course it would be pork. What else? Only those at the pinnacle of the Jihadist pyramid would know of the plot, but since ingestion of pork was forbidden in the Muslim religion, their followers would be safe. And Desh knew how these people thought. In their eyes, any Muslim around the world who ignored this prohibition and did eat pork deserved to die anyway.

"Our organic chemists tell me there are several complex molecules that are swine-specific. We believe the Ebola genes are set to be triggered by one of them. But even though the genes are triggered, the viral parts aren't present, so it isn't infectious like the natural Ebola. That's what keeps the terrorists safe. As long as they don't eat pork, they have nothing to worry about."

Desh's lip curled up in disgust. It was a masterful plan from the terrorist's perspective. And as utterly horrific as their strategy was, it was not without its boldness or creativity. Ironically, in addition to devout Muslims, religious Jews would also be spared. This would be the only fly in the ointment of an otherwise ideal plan from the terrorists' perspective. The fact that their most hated enemy would remain untouched would sit like open sores in their stomachs.

"Can she really pull it off?" he asked "This is as difficult a genetic engineering project as there is, but if anyone in the world can do it, Kira Miller can. She's that good."

"And the expected casualties?"

"Depends on how efficiently her designed virus can insert the genes, and how efficiently the pork-specific organic chemicals can trigger them. Worst case, hundreds of millions around the world. Best case, given the high quality of medicine in the West, maybe a few hundred thousand."

The color drained from Desh's face. This attack had the potential to be more costly in human lives than a nuclear bomb set off in a population center. And the very nature of the attack would unleash a raging wildfire of irrationality and panic that could have an incalculable effect on civilization. "And this would be only the beginning," he whispered to Connelly.

"That's right," said Connelly. "People would fear they had other Trojan Horses buried in their genetic material, primed to go off with one wrong bite. No one would know what foods to trust. Rumors would race around the world. Fear would be at a fever pitch. Economies would collapse. The most ordered societies would degenerate into chaos and devastation almost overnight."

Desh knew this plan could set civilization back hundreds of yearsa"which is exactly what the Jihadists wanted. No wonder Kira Miller was so wealthy. If she could convince Al-Qaeda she could execute on this plan, she could name her price. Death and devastation on a vast scale wouldn't trouble a soulless psychopath like her in the least.

"At some point, we may be forced to issue a warning not to eat pork," said Connelly. "But this wouldn't buy us all that much. The warning itself would incite some of the panic we're trying to avoid. Many wouldn't get the message and still others would ignore it, believing it to be a government conspiracy. And we believe the Jihadists have a contingency version ready to go, with a different trigger. So sounding the alarm would just push them into plan B. The terrorist leaders would still know which foods to avoid, although since they'd only risk sharing this secret with a select few, they'd lose far more of their followers under this scenario."

Desh shook his head in disgust. If it came to that, the need to sacrifice scores of their followers for the cause would not give them the slightest pause.

Desh placed the photographs back inside the folder and reinserted it into the accordion file. Before arriving at Fort Bragg he had already felt dead inside. Being on the grounds, a reminder of a past he so desperately wanted to forget, had made things worse. And now this. He felt ill. He needed to conclude this meeting and get some air. "So tell me," he said pointedly. "Why am I here?"

Connelly sighed deeply. "Kira Miller has been off the grid since her brother's murdera"for about a year now. She's vanished. Like magic. We have reason to believe she was in San Diego last November, but she could be anywhere now. Only Bin Laden and a few others have been the subject of bigger manhunts, and we've basically gotten nowhere. There are those who think she must be dead, but we can't make that a.s.sumption, obviously."

"I ask again," said Desh. "Why am I here? Plan B? Send in a solitary man when entire armies fail?"

"Believe me, we didn't wait until now to try the Lone Ranger approach. We've been sending in individual agents for several months. The best and brightest. They've gotten nowhere."

"So what am I, then," remarked Desh. "Plan E? What do you expect I can do that your first choices couldn't?"

"First of all, you would have been my first choice had you remained in the military. You know that, David. You know my opinion of your abilities. I didn't think I could get authorization to recruit a civilian, so I never recommended you."

Desh looked confused. "Then how am I here?"

"Someone up the food chain realized your value and asked me to recruit you. I was thrilled that they did. Not only are you unequaled as a soldier, you found more top-level terrorists on the lamb than anyone when you were in the service. No one is as creative and tenacious on the hunt as you are. Kira Miller has a knack for gene therapy. You have a knack for finding those who are off the grid."

Connelly leaned forward and fixed an unblinking stare on Desh. "And you're someone I trust absolutely, someone outside the system. This woman has ma.s.sive amounts of money and is quite persuasive. I wouldn't put it past her to have found a way to monitor us, or to compromise some of our people."

"So you think you have a mole?"

"Honestly a no. But with the stakes this high, why take chances?"

Desh nodded. He couldn't argue the point.

"We failed as an organization. The individuals who have tried have also failed. There could be many other good explanations for this, but now it's time to try something different." He rubbed his mustache absently. "You have a singular talent for this and you don't report through military channels. Let's keep it that way. Use your own resources, not ours. In the file you'll find the reports of your predecessors: all the information they gathered on Kira Miller."

"I a.s.sume it will also detail their attempts to locate her?"

"Actually, no," said Connelly. "We don't want you to be polluted with what came before. You'll be starting with a clean slate. And don't communicate with me. I don't want to know what you're doing. You'll find a contact number to use when you find her. The person at the other end will handle the rest. Follow his instructions from there on in."

"When I find her?"

"You'll find her," said Connelly with absolute conviction. "I'm certain of it."

"That's two questionable a.s.sumptions you're making," said Desh. "The first one is that I'll agree to take the job in the first place."

Connelly said nothing. The silence hung in the room like a thick fog.

Desh was torn. There was a significant part of him that just wanted to walk away. Connelly would find a way to solve his problema"or he wouldn't. But the world would keep revolving, with or without Desh on the case. There were other talented men outside the system. Let someone else be the hero. He had tried the hero business and had failed.

On the other hand, what if he really did have some special quality that would turn the tide? If he walked away and the attack succeeded, how could he live with himself? He beat himself up every day for surviving the operation in Iran when his men had not. Guilt and loss were eating away at his soul already, but would pale in comparison to the question that would torment his every waking momenta"what if he really had been the only one able to find, and stop, Kira Miller?

And even though he had wanted to clear his head and put distance between himself and anyone he had know from his past life, his relationship with Connelly had been very close, and almost certainly would be again someday. There were few men he admired as much as he did Jim Connelly.

Desh stared long and hard at the colonel. "Okay," he said wearily, a look of resignation on his face. "I'll help you." He shook his head bitterly, and it was clear he was annoyed with himself for being unable to refuse. "I'll give it my best," he added with a sigh. "That's all I can do."

"Thanks, David," said Connelly in relief. "That's all anyone can do."

The colonel paused and now looked somewhat uneasy. "Now that you're on board, I need to insist that you don't go after her yourself, under any circ.u.mstances. Your job is to find her. Period. The job of the person at the end of the telephone number I gave you is to reel her in." He paused. "Before you leave, I have to be sure you're crystal clear about this."

Desh stared at Connelly in disbelief. "I'm clear on it, all right, Colonel. What I'm not clear on is why. What if I found her and was in the perfect position for capture? I need to be able to strike when the iron's hot. By the time I call someone in and they arrive, she could slip through the noose. She's too elusive and too important to allow that to happen." He shook his head in disbelief. "It's an idiotic strategy," he snapped.

The colonel sighed. "I couldn't agree more," he said. "But those are my orders. I made all the points you just made as emphatically as I could, but I didn't win the day. So this is what we're left with."

"Okay then," said Desh in annoyance. "I'm just a civilian now. If someone up the chain of command just had a frontal lobotomy, there's nothing I can do about it."

"On the bright side," continued Connelly, pressing ahead, "I was able to win one important argument with my superiors." He smiled slyly. "I convinced them it wouldn't be easy to entice you back. They've authorized me to pay you $200,000 upon initiation of the a.s.signment as a draw against expenses. It's all set to be wired into your account. You'll have access to it within the hour." He leaned forward intently. "There's another million upon success."

Desh's eyes widened. A payment of this magnitude would dramatically change the course of his life. It would allow him to leave the violent world he had known behind and immediately start down whichever new path he finally chose for himself. "Thanks, Colonel," he said. "That's a h.e.l.l of a lot of money." Desh paused. "But you do know I agreed to help because of you, and because of the nature of the threat, and not for the money."

A twinkle came to Connelly's eye. "I know that," he said. "Notice that I only brought up the money after you had agreed." The colonel smiled. "Considering the bounty for Bin Laden went as high as $25 million, and considering the devastating consequences of failure, you're the biggest bargain the government has ever had."

Desh smiled. "Well, as long as the government is happy," he said dryly, spreading his hands in mock sincerity. He paused for a moment in thought. "What about Fleming Executive Protection?"

"Don't worry. We'll make sure your calendar is cleared for the next month and you remain in good standing with them." An amused look crossed Connelly's face. "And rest a.s.sured, we'll do it in such a way that won't hurt your career, or your ah a reputation." He smiled slightly at this and then added, "Do we have an agreement?"

Desh nodded. "We do."

"Good. I'm sorry to have to pull you back in for one last mission, David, but I know you're the right man for the job."

Desh rose from the chair and prepared to leave. "I hope you're right, Colonel. As always, I'll try not to let you down." He eyed Connelly suspiciously as something he had said earlier finally registered. "You said the wire transfer of the 200k is ready to go?"

"I just need to give the word and it's done."

"So how is it exactly," said Desh, his eyes narrowing, "that you happen to have the wire transfer information for my account, without me having given it to you?"

Connelly raised his eyebrows. "I don't suppose you'd believe it was a lucky guess?" he said with an innocent shrug.

Desh allowed a bemused smile to flash across his face. He opened his briefcase, placed the accordion file inside, and stood.

Connelly also rose from his chair. He reached out and gave Desh a warm handshake. "Good luck, David," he said earnestly. "And be careful."

"I won't be eating any pork products anytime soon, if that's what you mean," said Desh wryly, trying to hide his anxiety.

With that, David Desh picked up his briefcase and walked purposefully out the door.

4.

David Desh exited the grounds of Fort Bragg and drove to a nearby shopping center. He parked the Suburban at the outer edge of the sprawling lot, becoming a lone island of privacy cut off from the dense mainland of all other parked vehicles. He pulled out the dossier on Kira Miller and began a careful review. The five-hour drive back to D.C. ahead of him would be the perfect time to digest what he was now reading and plot out his initial strategy.

After a little more than an hour he returned the dossier to his briefcase and began his trek home. Her file hadn't given him much to go on, nor had he expected it to. If the girl's background would have led to an obvious approach, others would have found it by now.

Kira Miller had been able to hide her true nature quite well. From a very young age she had been extremely talented, ambitious, and compet.i.tive. When she set her mind to something she had accomplished it. This didn't always win her a lot of friends growing up, and being jumped ahead in school several years did nothing to help her social life.

Even as an adult she tended to make few friends, always keeping her eye on the ball; be it setting the record for youngest ever molecular neurobiology Ph.D. at Stanford or power-climbing up the corporate ladder. In college she had dated some, but she never managed to sustain a relationship for more than eight or nine months. Desh knew that most men would find her brilliance intimidating.

The file elaborated quite extensively on everything that Connelly had told him, laying out her communications with terror groups, how these communications had been found, the airtight evidence gathered against her for the murders of Lusetti and her brother, and the Ebola gene therapy plot.

After the murders, the police investigation had revealed she had spent an inordinate amount of time in NeuroCure's animal labs late at night, but had managed to hide this activity. The employee badge she'd been issued to unlock the door after hours was designed to record the holder's ident.i.ty and time of entry in the main computer, but she had ingeniously altered the software to prevent this from happening.

Investigators had also found that Kira had ordered far more rodents from suppliers than the company had needed for experiments. Since she was responsible for inventory, this hadn't been caught earlier.

It was clear she had been performing secret animal experiments almost every night. In retrospect, this made sensea"chilling sense. She must have brought the Jihadists some evidence that she could execute on the strategy she was proposing to get them to pay her the substantial sums of money she was known to have in banks around the world. An animal proof of concept, as it were.

Connelly and USASOC had vast resources at their disposal, both human and otherwise, and yet they hadn't come close to finding this girl. Only someone extremely careful and extremely clever could possibly elude a government-sponsored manhunt for this long. And that was really the rub on this one. The prey was far smarter than the hunter. Desh didn't feel any macho need to downplay his own intelligence, which was considerable, but it was undeniable that hers was in another league. So how to catch someone smarter than yourself?

It was all in your att.i.tude. You didn't plot a strategy designed to catch her making a mistake. This is what the others probably focused on. Instead, you counted on her not making a mistake. You counted on her doing everything exactly right. This was the answer.