“Consistent with the letter,” Danielle said. “A lunatic fringe, even to the lunatics.”
“The thing is,” Moore added, “Mossad doesn’t believe they were responsible for any of those things.”
“Then why claim them?” Danielle asked.
“Cobra’s hood,” Moore said. “It makes them look bigger than they really are.”
“So why do we think they’re involved in this, then?” Hawker asked.
“One of their few known members was photographed with Ranga six months ago.”
Hawker suddenly wished he hadn’t asked.
“Mossad has them pegged as antireligionists. Blaming God for the state of the world.”
“Whose God?”
“Any God.”
“Any God?”
“Yes,” Moore said. “Their position is that God or the concept of God is the enemy of man. Religion causes war, death, subjugation, et cetera, et cetera.”
“Great,” Hawker said. “Everyone’s killing in the name of God. Now we have a group killing in the name of no god at all.”
“How does this connect with the attack on the UN?” Danielle asked. “They’re not a religious organization.”
“We haven’t figured that out yet,” Moore said. “But no one says these people have to be rational or consistent.”
She nodded.
“Truth is, this group has been extremely secretive,” Moore added. “We’re trying to back-trace them but it’s almost like they came into existence out of the blue. We know where Al Qaeda trains and where they’re based and who they recruit. We know the same information for the IRA and the KKK and Hamas, but no one seems to have any idea who these people are, how they’re funded, or even how many members they might have. It’s like they have no history.”
“Even that tells us something,” Hawker said.
“What’s their goal?” Danielle asked.
“It’s a little murky,” Moore said, “but the theme is simple: Religion is bad. In their propaganda it’s always religion that has corrupted men, not saved us. One threat announcement concluded with the words: You have listened to the lies and gone forth and multiplied — and you are now a plague upon the face of the earth. Too many, too fast — you starve your brother or kill him for food. Greedily you engorge without restraint, and know not that you are eating death.”
Hawker listened to Moore. The words sounded familiar to him. As if he’d heard them before.
“Is that a quote? Tennyson or something?”
“It’s a corruption of Milton,” Moore said. “From Paradise Lost.”
“Referring to Eve eating the apple,” Danielle said.
Moore nodded. “It’s not the only reference they’ve made. In the first letter they borrowed another phrase of his. He who overcomes by force, hath overcome but half his foe.”
“Sounds like they’re trying to tell us something,” Hawker suggested.
“They seem to be choosing the role of Satan,” Moore said. “Defeated by God, now trying to destroy his creation: mankind. And yet from the letter to the UN and this reference they seem to imply we’ll do it to ourselves.”
Hawker considered what was being said. There was something else to it. The bitterness in the words, the choice of verses. The choice of referencing Milton in the first place. It seemed almost … He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he was certain there was more to what was being said than met the eye.
“Great,” Danielle said. “So what do these people want? Are they against God or are they against man?”
“Religious influence on man,” Moore said. “That’s the best we can distill it down to. All classic religions seem to want their people to reproduce as rapidly as possible, perhaps because failure to do so makes you weaker in numbers than your enemy. But synthesizing the UN letter and these other letters together it seems they blame the world’s problems on this and on the overpopulation resulting from it and Western introduction of medicines and other technologies that have reduced infant mortality and the death rate, while not reducing the birthrate equally.”
“So the plague is for culling the herd,” Danielle said.
“The logical response in livestock.”
“Humans are not livestock,” she said.
“Perhaps to this cult we are,” Moore said.
Hawker remained silent. He’d seen too much of man treating his fellow man worse than livestock to doubt it.
“Ranga’s notes suggested he was working on something that would drastically reduce life span,” Danielle said. “It appeared as if he was getting close. Could that be culling the herd?”
“Perhaps,” Moore said.
As Hawker listened, it became clear they were facing a group with dangerously warped minds. His deal with Lavril likely didn’t matter. These were not the kind of people who came in from the cold or allowed themselves to be arrested. He was all but certain they’d have to kill these men to defeat them. So be it.
“Ranga got caught up with these people somehow,” Hawker said. “If we could retrace that avenue, maybe we find out where they hide. Hit them before they hit us. Act instead of react.”
Moore looked at him thoughtfully. “I think we know what avenue Ranga connected with them on,” he said. Without elaborating he cued something up on the screen on the bulkhead of the aircraft.
Hawker turned to watch. At first he couldn’t tell what he was looking at. The video was poor and the room shown was badly lit. It turned out to be an auditorium of some kind. And then, as the camera zoomed in on a group of people sitting onstage, he recognized Ranga. He was younger, slimmer, wearing a white shirt and a thin black tie.
The moderator was talking, saying something about the challenge of feeding growing populations through the use of genetically modified crops.
The question was posed to Ranga as to what progress could be expected in the next twenty years.
“Drought resistance is important,” Ranga insisted, “for lost crops mean no harvest at all, which is the worst-case scenario. But you must understand that all things in nature are compromises. Drought resistance comes with a price: It can result in smaller yields under normal circumstances. Just the same, designing crops that yield more food per acre brings a risk: They require more water and more fertilizer and are often at the highest risks of failure under stressed conditions.”
A question from the audience prompted him.
“So what’s the answer, Dr. Milan?” someone asked. “Is there hope?”
Ranga cleared his throat. “In some sense we are searching for the impossible,” he said. “The best answer would be a crop that resists stressed growing conditions, produces more food per acre, and does not drain the soil or water table excessively. We are looking for ways to do this,” he said proudly, then continued less energetically. “But it’s a bit like trying to make an elephant fly without asking him to lose any weight.”
Laughter spread through the crowd.
“It’s problematic,” Ranga continued. “We do what we can. But if you must know, we are really attacking the issue from the wrong direction. It is often said that the world produces too little food. But rarely is it stated that we consume too much.”
Hawker sensed the pause. Ranga had always paused before stating his most important point.
“There will soon be seven billion people on this earth. In twenty years that number will near ten billion. And despite slowing growth rates, some projections go as high as twelve to fifteen billion by 2075. The earth cannot sustain such numbers. Especially if we all wish to live like Americans.”
A grumble went through the crowd.