Huntington winced. "Didn't that kill off more people in 1918 than World War I?"
"It did. This one will be worse." She nodded, while keeping eye contact. "This version is highly aggressive, fast-acting and airborne. From what I observed, the weaponized virus is in aerosol form, in this case delivered by drone."
His mouth tightened. "Insane. We could have a pandemic on our hands."
"We could, yes. But I think something else is happening, something less devastating to society but highly dangerous all the same."
He leaned forward a little. "Something else?"
She put it in words for the first time. "I suspect that the virus has been encoded with specific DNA."
He just stared, looking blank.
"In other words, the weaponized virus is being tailored to specific people. That virus was encoded to Mike Hammer's DNA and not mine, which is why he died and I walked away. They didn't know I was going to be there, so they only prepared the virus for him. They could have gotten his DNA from anywhere. Hair from a hairbrush, a glass he'd drunk out of, a plate, a tiny bit of blood from a cut."
He looked stunned. "How is that possible? Something that is lethal for one person and not another? Wouldn't it take a vast scientific apparatus?"
"Well, the CDC is a vast scientific apparatus in itself. It can be done using a machine called a CRISPR-Cas9. CRISPR stands for clustered regularly interspaced short palindromic repeats. It's a machine for editing genes."
"But that's-"
"A perfect murder weapon. A virus tailored to someone's DNA, delivered by drone. Essentially a natural death, put down to a sudden allergic attack, a stroke or a heart attack. The murderer can be far away, guiding the drone by a tablet, waiting for the right moment. Who knows how many people have been killed so far."
"My God." His jaw tightened. "Shouldn't we-"
"Shouldn't we what, Mr. Huntington? Look for sudden deaths with high cytokine counts? Most of the bodies won't have been autopsied. The cytokines dissipate quickly. And it would be the job of the CDC to note this kind of pattern. I think-"
Her throat seized up. Just saying the words hurt, like knives slicing her inside. She swallowed and when she spoke, her voice was a raw whisper. "I think the CDC is involved. We can't go to them. Do you think your police captain friend can inquire discreetly about any sudden unexplained deaths nationwide?"
His eyes narrowed and he looked more dangerous than ever. "Count on it."
"A deadly virus tailored to a specific person's DNA is incredibly dangerous. You can widen the scope. You could target an individual, a family, a tribe. Without endangering anyone who might be physically close who doesn't share DNA with the victim. It's the perfect weapon, surgically precise. We have to stop this. Imagine being able to target a people in the Middle East, a family in Washington, one specific person in a crowd."
"Someone's going to pay for this," he said in a deep, low voice.
Kay repressed a shudder. Huntington was scary in a way Nick, Metal, Joe and Jacko weren't. His partner, too, was frightening. Former SEAL Senior Chief Douglas Kowalski, who was not only terrifying but spectacularly ugly.
Both of them were worshipped by the men under them.
And loved fiercely by two gentle, elegant, artistic women.
Go figure.
Whatever her personal feelings, though, this man and his partner had made the entire resources of their company-and they were considerable-available to her. They were making a real effort to keep her safe and to help her unravel the mystery. She was nothing to him. A friend of one of his employees. However important to the company Felicity was, Kay wasn't a sister or a cousin. Was he doing this for Nick? Nick had made it clear that his first priority was Kay, and they seemed to be okay with that.
She owed them. She owed them her best efforts to finish this quickly and well.
They'd done their share. More than their share. Now it was up to her. Well, this was what she did. She wasn't a warrior, she wasn't a computer genius. But this?
"Okay, Mr. Huntington-"
"John," he said. His lips moved in what for normal people would be a smile.
"What?"
"You must call me John."
Her own smile froze. "Of-of course." God. It would be like calling the Pope "Frank". There was only one thing to say. "And you must call me Kay. Remember, John. This is pure conjecture. I think I'm right, but I'll know for sure only after studying the data on the flash drive."