Someone had created that. Someone had wanted that.
She rested her forehead on her palm, exhausted and demoralized. Such horrors, things she and her colleagues had fought against all their adult life, being planned. The thought of the virus rotating in front of her on the screen being let loose to choke hundreds of thousands-millions!-of men, women and children … it hurt her to even think of it.
This virus for the moment was being used selectively, but it was there, engine idling, waiting to escape and become a worldwide pandemic, threatening humanity itself.
How could people do this?
Heavy hands on her shoulders. "Okay, princess. Time for a rest."
Nick turned her office chair around until she sat facing him, inside the vee of his legs. Nick frowned, framed her face with his hands. "What's wrong, honey?"
She must look as stricken as she felt.
Kay curled her hands around his wrists, trying to anchor herself. Tears were welling in her eyes, but it was mostly rage that she felt.
"Let me tell you what we're up against, Nick. Like I said, in 1918, the Spanish flu killed more people than World War I. The most deadly war in history couldn't compete with the Spanish flu. This particular flu attacked the immune system, making it go haywire. So, the stronger the immune system, the higher the death rate. Most flus kill children and the elderly, but this one affected strong young adults most of all. People couldn't shop or meet up or even attend funerals. For a while, there was speculation that it would kill most of humanity. Even now, we don't fully understand it. And someone, someone in the institution where I work, has taken that and made it worse. Made it faster-acting, even more deadly. I've studied these files and I keep backing away from that, because it's too insane for words, but I can't. Someone has taken this knowledge-which is the upshot of the work of thousands and thousands of the best minds humanity has-and turned it against us. I … I can't wrap my head around it."
There was still rage, but a tear fell down her cheek.
Nick wiped it away with his thumb, and sighed. "I know, honey."
"I am just so … so angry."
He nodded. "I know exactly how you feel, believe me."
Kay blinked. "You do?"
"Oh yeah." He hooked another rolling chair with a foot, pulled it toward him, sat down. He took her hands in his. The warm fleece sweater and socks had helped in the chilly room, but her hands had been cold. She'd been so focused on the files she'd barely noticed. But his big, calloused hands chased the chill away, filled her with heat. Those hands infused her with warmth and strength.
She cocked her head. "There's a story there."
"Damn straight. A terrible one, too." He leaned forward, kissed her cheek. "So. You and I are alone here, but in a week, we wouldn't have been. A new ASI recruit will be starting work soon. Matt Walker. Former Lieutenant Matt Walker. A very good man whose path crossed a very bad man's."
Kay was listening with every sense she had, not just her ears. Nick's expression was serious, almost grim, his voice flat, as if intent on not betraying emotion. He didn't realize it, but he was holding on to her hands so tightly it almost hurt. He'd gone continuously out of his way not to hurt her. If he was holding her hands too tightly, it was because of the emotions he was trying so hard to repress.
This was important to him, and therefore to her, too.
Discovering what Bill had been trying to do had been like an abyss opening up at her feet, the earth breaking itself apart. What had before been solid terrain was now dangerously cracked. But this was the world Nick operated in, where bad people did bad things.
She needed some insight into this world to remain sane, this new insane world of black hearts and sick minds, where bastards work really hard to kill as many people as possible.
It made no sense to her, but it made sense to Nick.
"A SEAL like you?"
"Yeah." His jaw flexed, and his hands tightened even more. "Lieutenant Matt Walker was a legend. Three tours in Afghanistan and Iraq. Spoke decent Arabic and Pashto. He led from the front, always, the bravest of the brave."
The way he was speaking … "Is he-is he dead?"
"No. No thanks to the US Navy, though."
"What happened?"
"He and his men were stationed at an FOB in Helmand. An FOB is a-"
"Forward operating base," she said. At his look, she shrugged. "I listen when people talk. You'd be surprised what I've picked up from the guys."
"I hope just military slang."