“Bertrand didn’t see it that way. He dreamed of fixing the fatal flaw in human evolution … the fact that our species is simply too prolific. We are an organism that, despite our unmatched intellect, cannot seem to control our own numbers. No amount of free contraception, education, or government enticement works. We keep having babies … whether we want to or not. Did you know the CDC just announced that nearly halfof all pregnancies in the U.S. are unplanned? And, in underdeveloped nations, that number is over seventy percent!”
Langdon had seen these statistics before and yet only now was he starting to understand their implications. As a species, humans were like the rabbits that were introduced on certain Pacific islands and allowed to reproduce unchecked to the point that they decimated their ecosystem and finally went extinct.
Bertrand Zobrist has redesigned our species … in an attempt to save us … transforming us into a less fruitful population.
Langdon took a deep breath and stared out at the Bosporus, feeling as ungrounded as the boats sailing in the distance. The sirens were growing still louder, coming from the direction of the docks, and Langdon sensed that time was running out.
“The most frightening thing of all,” Sienna said, “is notthat Inferno causes sterility, but rather that it has the abilityto do so. An airborne viral vector is a quantum leap — years ahead of its time. Bertrand has suddenly lifted us out of the dark ages of genetic engineering and launched us headlong into the future. He has unlocked the evolutionary process and given humankind the ability to redefine our species in broad, sweeping strokes. Pandora is out of the box, and there’s no putting her back in. Bertrand has created the keys to modify the human race … and if those keys fall into the wrong hands, then God help us. This technology should neverhave been created. As soon as I read Bertrand’s letter explaining how he had achieved his goals, I burned it. Then I vowed to find his virus and destroy all traces of it.”
“I don’t understand,” Langdon declared, his voice laced with anger. “If you wanted to destroy the virus, why didn’t you cooperate with Dr. Sinskey and the WHO? You should have called the CDC or someone.”
“You can’t be serious! Government agencies are the lastentities on earth that should have access to this technology! Think about it, Robert. Throughout all of human history, every groundbreaking technology ever discovered by science has been weaponized—from simple fire to nuclear power — and almost alwaysat the hands of powerful governments. Where do you think our biological weapons come from? They originate from research done at places like the WHO and CDC. Bertrand’s technology — a pandemic virus used as a genetic vector — is the most powerful weapon ever created. It paves the way for horrors we can’t yet even imagine, including targetedbiological weapons. Imagine a pathogen that attacks only those people whose genetic code contains certain ethnic markers. It could enable widespread ethnic cleansing on the genetic level!”
“I see your concerns, Sienna, I do, but this technology could also be used for good, couldn’t it? Isn’t this discovery a godsend for genetic medicine? A new way to deliver global inoculations, for example?”
“Perhaps, but unfortunately, I’ve learned to expect the worst from people who hold power.”
In the distance Langdon could hear the whine of a helicopter shatter the air. He peered through the trees back in the direction of the Spice Bazaar and saw the running lights of an aircraft skimming up over the hill and streaking toward the docks.
Sienna tensed. “I need to go,” she said, standing up and glancing to the west toward Atatürk Bridge. “I think I can get across the bridge on foot, and from there reach—”
“You’re not leaving, Sienna,” he said firmly.
“Robert, I came back because I felt I owed you an explanation. Now you have it.”
“No, Sienna,” Langdon said. “You came back because you’ve been running your whole life, and you finally realized you can’t run anymore.”
Sienna seemed to shrink before him. “What choice do I have?” she asked, watching the helicopter scan the water. “They’ll put me in prison as soon as they find me.”
“You’ve done nothing wrong, Sienna. You didn’t create this virus … nor did you release it.”
“True, but I went to great lengths to prevent the World Health Organization from finding it. If I don’t end up in a Turkish prison, I’ll face some kind of international tribunal on charges of biological terrorism.”
As the thrum of the helicopter grew louder, Langdon looked toward the docks in the distance. The craft was hovering in place, rotors churning the water as its searchlight strafed the boats.
Sienna looked ready to bolt at any instant.
“Please listen,” Langdon said, softening his tone. “I know you’ve been through a lot, and I know you’re scared, but you need to think of the big picture. Bertrand created this virus. Youtried to stop it.”
“But I failed.”
“Yes, and now that the virus is out, the scientific and medical communities will need to understand it fully. You’re the onlyperson who knows anything at all about it. Maybe there’s a way to neutralize it … or do something to prepare.” Langdon’s penetrating gaze bore into her. “Sienna, the world needsto know what you know. You can’t just disappear.”
Sienna’s slim frame was shaking now, as if the floodgates of sorrow and uncertainty were about to burst wide. “Robert, I … I don’t know what to do. I don’t even know who I am anymore. Look at me.” She put a hand on her bald scalp. “I’ve turned into a monster. How can I possibly face—”
Langdon stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. He could feel her body trembling, feel her frailty against his chest. He whispered softly in her ear.
“Sienna, I know you want to run, but I’m not going to let you. Sooner or later you need to start trusting someone.”
“I can’t …” She was sobbing. “I’m not sure I know how.”
Langdon held her tighter. “You start small. You take that first tiny step. You trust me.”
CHAPTER 100
The sharp clang of metal on metal rang through the fuselage of the windowless C-130 transport, causing the provost to jump. Outside, someone was banging the butt of a pistol against the aircraft’s hatch and demanding entry.
“Everyone stay seated,” the C-130 pilot commanded, moving toward the door. “It’s the Turkish police. They just drove out to the plane.”
The provost and Ferris exchanged a quick glance.
From the flurry of panicked calls among the WHO staff on board, the provost sensed that their containment mission had failed. Zobrist carried out his plan, he thought. And my company made it possible.
Outside the hatch, authoritative-sounding voices began shouting in Turkish.
The provost jumped to his feet. “Don’t open the door!” he ordered the pilot.
The pilot stopped short, glaring at the provost. “Why the hell not?”
“The WHO is an international relief organization,” the provost replied, “and this plane is sovereign territory!”
The pilot shook his head. “Sir, this plane is parked at a Turkish airport, and until it leaves Turkish airspace, it is subject to the laws of the land.” The pilot moved to the exit and threw open the hatch.
Two uniformed men stared in. Their humorless eyes showed not the slightest hint of leniency. “Who is the captain of this aircraft?” one of them demanded in a heavy accent.
“I am,” the pilot said.
An officer handed the pilot two sheets of paper. “Arrest documents. These two passengers must come with us.”
The pilot skimmed the pages and glanced over at the provost and Ferris.
“Call Dr. Sinskey,” the provost ordered the WHO pilot. “We’re on an international emergency mission.”