Ratio(14)

“Listen, I have to leave town for a few days. I’m stuck on a job I can’t get out of. I’ll officially owe you one.”

“You’ll owe me two,” said Mary. “At least.”

“So, that’s a ‘yes’?”

She sighed. “What do you need?”

“I need you to look into the sale of Chemworks. Try to dig up anything that might give us a lead. You might need to approach some people direct. But don’t flash your badge; that only pisses people off.”

“You need to let this go, Leopold.”

“I can’t let this go. Have you got any idea what kind of research could fall into the wrong hands? I need to know who’s pulling the strings. It has to be someone on the inside. There’s no other explanation. Nobody on the outside would know how to make this happen, and the only solid lead we’ve got isn’t exactly talkative.”

“Yeah, well, that’s probably because he’s dead.”

Leopold thought back to the events in Paris. “I’m not complaining. He was holding a gun to my head at the time. But there had to be someone else involved; it was too much for one man to do alone.”

“You could have done it by yourself.”

“Yeah, but I run the company,” Leopold said. “And I’m not exactly going to turn chemical research secrets over to an anonymous buyer. If we’re going to stand a chance of figuring this out, I’ll need you to approach someone with ties to Chemworks.” He paused. “Your sister might be able to help. She’s got the connections.”

The line went silent for a moment. “Let’s not bring Kate into this,” Mary said, eventually. “We don’t need the grief. Especially if the WHO or CDC get wind of it. I can do this myself.”

“That’s the spirit,” Leopold said.

“And don’t think I can’t see what you’re doing, bringing my sister into this.”

Leopold smiled. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Whatever. Just email me the details. I’ll see what I can do.”

“No problem.”

“And I changed my mind. You now owe me three.” Mary hung up.

Leopold slipped his phone back into his pocket as Jerome emerged from the bedroom with another suitcase.

“You ready?” Jerome asked, dumping the heavy case onto the tiled floor. “Not that you haven’t been an enormous help, but we’re going to have to haul ass if we don’t want to miss our flight.”

Rolling his eyes, Leopold grabbed the nearest case. “And we wouldn’t want that, would we?”





Chapter 8





JUN-YEONG WATCHED RICK Gustafson march out of the room, leaving him and Seong-min alone with their tools. The older man stole a glance at his watch and quickly went back to work.

“The second floor won’t need ventilation for five minutes,” he said in Korean. “If I’m quick, nobody should even notice the systems are off.” He knelt down next to the system that provided air to the convention center and located the subsystem that served the second floor. Flashlight in hand, he found the master electrical panel that ran that system and shut it down. A few inches to the side, the access panel had been tack-welded closed, a label applied with a security warning.

“They’ve already been here,” he muttered, looking up at the kid. “Now what?”

Jun-yeong shrugged. “You’re the expert.”

“Remind me again why I let you tag along?” Seong-min leaned in closer. “You better know what you’re doing with the payload.” He spotted the filtration unit, a separate housing the size of a refrigerator. It hadn’t been sealed shut. Using a specialized screwdriver, he removed the access panel to the housing and slid out several particulate filters. Setting those aside, he flashed a light inside and looked toward the base.

“Should be enough room,” he said. He flipped the lid off a large plastic work tub, carefully pulling out an electronic device, a custom-made atomizer with built-in timer. Reaching into his rucksack, he took out a conference schedule printout. Dragging his finger down the list of events and speakers, he stopped at one particular name, double-checking the scheduled time for his speech.

“The President is due to speak at nine on Saturday morning,” he said. “That means the security team will arrive ten minutes early, then bring him in five minutes after that once they know the area is secure. I need to set the timer for a quarter past the hour, just in case there’s a late start.”

Jun-yeong nodded. “It’s a fast-acting nerve agent. A few minutes’ exposure is all it takes.” He smiled. “And we already know Americans like the sound of their own voices. Plenty of time.”