“Door close,” Dr. Manning said. In the large empty room his voice echoed faintly. “Sit down, Jennifer.”
“I’d rather stand, thank you. What is it you wish to show me?”
Chad pulled a sheaf of papers from his pocket. That alone was significant: his information, whatever it was, wasn’t on-line, not even in the heavily shielded programs of the neuropharm project. And yet Chad Manning was not, as Jennifer well knew, a particularly suspicious person. She knew everything there was to know about Dr. Chad Parker Manning.
Chief scientist for Sharifi Labs, he was the only one of the project team who had not been sent to prison at the same time as Jennifer, for the original attempt to make Sanctuary safe. The inclusion of one outsider on the team had been inevitable. The geneticists imprisoned for treason had lost too much time incarcerated, in a field that still changed rapidly every few years. And the project had to be run from Sharifi Labs: the labs had the equipment for checking Strukov’s claims, for detailed analyses of Strukov’s results before Jennifer committed the next huge section of her fortune to the Sleeper renegade. There was no way the secret team could not include Sharifi Labs’ chief scientist.
Robert Day, Sanctuary’s business manager and another imprisoned hero of the original attempt to free Sanctuary, had chosen Manning from among the Sleepless scientists. Robert had been released from prison ten years before Jennifer. He’d had time to investigate thoroughly, recruit slowly, be completely sure. Dr. Chad Manning was not the scientific genius that Serge Strukov was. A generation produced only one such genius. But as a scientist, Chad was solid, methodical, completely capable of dogging Strukov’s scientific footsteps—even if Chad could never have ventured along those same paths first. Just as important, he was completely committed to safeguarding Sanctuary by whatever means became necessary. Jennifer trusted him.
“I’ve been playing with Strukov’s virus,” Chad said. “In simulation, of course. And I found something.”
“Yes? What sort of something? And is there a reason we’re not looking at your simulations?”
“I destroyed them. These are the printouts. Although of course I can re-create the sims if you want to check them.”
He unfolded the sheaf of papers. Chad Manning’s parents had made him genemod handsome on a fairly uncommon template: sensitive and delicate. He had a thin face, high sharp cheekbones, pale skin, and the long flexible fingers of a violinist. The fingers trembled as he handed the papers to Jennifer.
“The first pages are biochemical equations, models… I can go through each of them for you if you like, afterward. Look now at the last page.”
Jennifer did. Two identical computer-sketched drawings of protein folds. Below them, a probability equation. The variables were written out by hand.
“The difference is very subtle,” Chad said, and she heard the strain in his voice. “See, there—on the farthest left segment. The chromosomal difference is only a few amino acids.”
Now Jennifer saw the two drawings weren’t identical after all. One small area of one protein fold differed from the other.
“What’s most important is that to discover this, you have to be really following an unlikely simulated trail,” Chad said. His agitation was growing. “I just sort of stumbled over it. It’s not a common mutation, and it’s on one of Strukov’s proteins that you wouldn’t expect to do this… but, Jennifer, look at the equations.”
The protein folds conveyed little to Jennifer—she was not a microbiologist. But the math was a standard probability equation. The probability of the protein-fold mutation occurring spontaneously within a year’s time, given Chad’s variables for replication and infection rates, was 38.72 percent.
She said composedly, “What effect would this protein fold have on the virus?”
“It will make it viable outside the human body. And thus transmissible.”
“In other words, instead of having to breathe in the virus, which is then destroyed by the Cell Cleaner but not before it sets off the cascade reaction of natural amines—”
“Instead of having to breathe it in, the virus would become transmissible from person to person. It could survive on skin, clothing, hair, in body folds—”
“For how long?” Jennifer asked.
“Unknown. But certainly a few days. And in this form it can enter the body through skin punctures or orifices… an infected person can infect others. For at least a few days. That couldn’t happen with the previous foldings. Every virus not breathed in from the first strike died a few minutes later. Or, if it was breathed in, it was destroyed anyway by the Cell Cleaner.”
Jennifer didn’t allow her puzzlement to show on her face. “But, Chad—that’s what we’ve intended all along, isn’t it? The second mode of delivery that Strukov is supposed to give us is just that: transmissible by human contact. Why do you consider this a problem?”
“Because if the virus mutates naturally, before Strukov is ready to release his transmissible form, he can’t control it.”
Jennifer waited. She still didn’t fully understand Chad’s agitation, but she didn’t say so. Never reveal how much you don’t understand, not even to allies. She waited.
Chad said, “There are two problems. No, three. If the virus mutates before we’re ready, we’ll no longer control its spread. The drone delivery schedule—as you know!—was carefully drawn up to avoid attracting scientific or military attention as long as possible. That will no longer be in our control.”
“It already isn’t,” Jennifer said. “Kelvin-Castner Pharmaceuticals happened to stumble across a Liver test site. You know that.”
“True. But they aren’t bringing in the CDC or Brookhaven. At least, not yet. Second, as soon as a virus becomes viable outside the body, it means places like Kelvin-Castner can study the original proteins, not just the secondary effects on the brain. That will give them a big jump forward on finding a vaccine. Or even a reverser.”
“But you said finding those would be very difficult, even after the virus is directly transmissible—”
“Oh, it will,” Chad said. “It will. But we don’t want to give the Sleepers any edge at all. Third, if the virus can mutate this way, with a 38.72 percent probability, and I only found it by accident… what else might it do? And does Strukov know?”
“Don’t tell him,” Jennifer said swiftly. “And don’t ask him. There’s no way to tell if his answer was the truth.”
Chad nodded. Jennifer, pondering, studied the clear panel beneath her feet. Stars, cold and remote and sharp… but up close, she reminded herself, they were very messy aggregations of violent collisions.
“I want the rest of the team to know about this, Chad. Although you did right to show it to me first, and to destroy the simulations.” Sanctuary had its own teenage datadippers. Ordinarily, Jennifer was pleased by that. They were the next generation of systems scientists, and the more ingenious their technique, the better. But not this time. “We have to design a new delivery schedule. A much more rapid one.”
“Will the Peruvians be able to accelerate the hardware manufacture?”
“I don’t know. That’s the real difficulty.” Strukov, Jennifer was sure, could handle any shift in plans on his end. “I’ll get Robert and Khalid on it.”
“All right,” Chad said. Jennifer could see that he had calmed down. Her calm had infected him. As it was supposed to.
He held the door of the conference room for her, but Jennifer shook her head. “I will stay here awhile.”