“Dr. Dent,” Lindahl said stiffly, “I’m not sure we need Dr. Cummings’s expertise in medicine and physiology here. Her time is better spent with clinical work, concentrating on her animal studies, not at this level of research.”
The virologist did not back down, which made Lisa like him all the more. Edmund was ten years younger than Lindahl and had a bohemian attitude, likely honed from his time spent at Berkeley and Stanford. Though she had never seen the virologist out of his protective suit, she always imagined him in Birkenstocks and a tie-dyed T-shirt.
“It was Lisa’s work that enabled our progress here,” Edmund reminded Lindahl. “And it never hurts to get another pair of eyes on a problem. Besides, when is honey ever made with only one bee in a hive?”
An exasperated sigh escaped Lindahl, but he let the matter drop.
Edmund rolled a chair next to the DTC director. “Lisa, let me catch you up. I mentioned at the earlier meeting that I thought I might have caught a glimpse of the monster in play here. Here’s a transmission electron micrograph of a cross section of alveoli from the lungs of an infected rat.”
Lisa leaned closer, studying the pockets of tiny particles densely packed into the lung’s small air cells.
“Those definitely look like virions — viral particles,” Lisa admitted. “But I’ve never seen anything so small.”
Edmund nodded his head. “I took measurements from some particles budding along infected cardiac muscle fibers. This is from a scanning electron micrograph, offering more of a 3-D view.”
The new picture revealed individual viruses attached to branching muscle bundles and nerves. A scale had been included to offer some measure of size.
“Looks like they’re less than ten nanometers,” Lisa commented. “That’s half the size of the smallest known virus.”
“Which is why I stepped in to help.” Lindahl elbowed Edmund out of the way. “To get a clearer picture, I collated the protein data from the team’s molecular biologist. From that data and using a program I patented, I worked up a three-dimensional representation of the virion’s capsid, its outer shell.”
Lisa studied the spherical modeling of the infectious particle. She was impressed at Lindahl’s skill, almost to the point of accepting his arrogance.
“That’s the outer face of our monster,” Edmund said. “Henry is already in the midst of doing a genetic analysis on what’s hidden inside that shell.”
Dr. Henry Jenkins was a geneticist from Harvard.
“But we can still extrapolate plenty from this capsid,” Lindahl said. “Enough to say this is an artificial construct. Beneath that protein coat, we found carbon graphene fibers — each only two atoms thick — woven in a hexagonal pattern.”
He brought up another image alongside the last one, showing that protein coat removed this time, leaving a tangled webbing behind.
It definitely looked artificial. Lisa pondered the significance of those man-made fibers. Graphene was a remarkably tough material, stronger than spider’s silk.
“It almost looks,” she said, “as if Hess was trying to engineer the equivalent of a Kevlar layer under that shell.”
Lindahl turned to her. “Exactly. Very insightful. This additional substructure could account for the virion’s stability, how it’s proven resistant to bleaches, acids, even fire.”
Yet, none of this answered the bigger question: What’s that tough coat protecting?
Lindahl continued. “It seems Dr. Hess engineered a perfect shell, one that is small enough to penetrate any tissue. Animal, plant, fungus. Its unusual size and nature might explain why it’s so universally pathogenic.”
She nodded, remembering how the organism had sterilized the soil to a depth of two feet.
“But why did Hess create it?” Lisa asked. “What’s its purpose?”
“Are you familiar with eVLPs?” Lindahl asked.
She shook her head.
“We were discussing the subject just before you arrived,” Edmund explained. “It stands for empty virus-like particles. It’s a new field of experimental study, where you strip the DNA out of a virus until only its outer shell remains. There are advantages to this in regards to vaccine production.”
She understood. Those empty particles would stimulate a strong antigenic or protective response without the risk of the vaccine agent making you sick.
“But that’s the least of it,” Lindahl said. “Once you have an empty shell, you can build from there. Add organic or even inorganic compounds, like those graphene fibers.”
“And once you create that shell,” Edmund added, “you can fill it with whatever wonders or horrors you want. In other words, the perfect shell becomes the perfect delivery system.”
Lisa stared again at the face of that monster.
What was hidden inside there?
“And you think Dr. Hess accomplished something like that?” Lisa asked. “That he built this virion from scratch in his lab and put something inside it.”
Lindahl leaned back. “We already have the technology. Way back in 2002, a group of scientists at Stony Brook synthesized a live polio virus from nothing but chemicals and a known genetic blueprint.”
Edmund huffed. “The project was sponsored by the Pentagon.”
Lisa heard the not-so-veiled accusation in his voice. Dr. Hess’s work was funded by the military, too.
Lindahl ignored the implication. “And in 2005, a larger influenza virus was synthesized in another lab. In 2006, the same was accomplished with the Epstein-Barr virus, which has the same number of base pairs as smallpox. But that’s child’s play compared to today. We can now manufacture organisms a hundredfold larger and at a fraction of the cost.” He snorted dismissively. “You can even buy a DNA synthesizer on eBay.”
“So what exactly did Dr. Hess put in there?” Lisa asked.
Before anyone would hazard a guess, Lisa’s radio buzzed. From the reactions of the other two men, they heard it, too.
It was Painter. The urgent stress in his voice quickened her heart. “We just heard word from Yosemite,” he reported. “The suspected saboteur is dead.”
Dead…
Lisa closed her eyes, thinking of Josh. Amy Serpry had been their only lead, the only way to discover more details about Dr. Hess’s work.
“From the initial report,” Painter continued, “she likely died of the same disease we’re battling here. The National Guard, along with an outbreak response team, is en route to lock down the grounds around the Ahwahnee. We also possibly have new exposure victims. Ranger Beck and Gunnery Sergeant Drake. Along with the ranger’s dog.”
Oh, no…
Painter continued with additional instructions and safeguards. The CDC was to set up another quarantine area in the hangar, in time to accept the incoming victims.
Once he was done, Lisa switched to a private channel.
“How badly were they exposed?” she asked.
“Jenna and Drake never stepped inside the cabin, and according to Drake, it was raining with the wind at their backs, so they may be okay.”
“And the dog?”
“He went inside the cabin and snatched up a mouse that may have been sick.”
So the husky likely had mucosal contact with the virion.
She stared again at the monster on the screen.
Poor dog.