“Okay,” said Bloch. “I’m going to need a list of everything. Rare and expensive items at the top. Get it to Shepard as soon as you can. Anything else?”
“Well, he’d need at least one more thing. A team. One seriously qualified mycologist, plus a group of reasonably qualified assistants. You’re going to find a limited number of those in the world.”
“Shepard, I want a list,” said Bloch.
Lincoln Shepard, who had already started typing as Pope was talking, said, “Already working on it, boss. Putting together mailing lists and lists of conference attendees for working mycologists.”
“Good,” said Bloch. “Is that it, Pope?”
“That’s all I can think of right now.”
“Okay, get to work on that list,” she said. “One more thing: can the fungus be weaponized?”
“Well, sure,” he said. “The fungus can survive outside the body, but small infections don’t do much. You need to get a decent dose of the fungus to really develop the disease. Otherwise, your antibodies take care of the infection pretty quickly.”
“Give me the short version,” she said.
“The short version is yes, theoretically, but I’m not exactly sure how,” he said.
“All right,” said Bloch. “It sounds like we’ve got our work cut out for us. Shepard, how soon can you get results?”
“This isn’t going to be easy,” he said. “No guarantees. I’m just one guy.”
“Then maybe we should outsource this one,” she said.
CHAPTER 37
Andover, February 1
“Your hand should be higher on the grip,” Morgan told his daughter. “You’ll be able to control recoil better that way.”
Bloch had told Morgan to spend a few days with his family, and he took the opportunity to take Alex to the shooting range. He took her to a place half an hour from their house, a wooded area with a large pit excavated to be used as a firearms range. There were a handful of other shooters there with them, and gun reports rang out sharply, muffled by the ear protectors. Alex took her position and fired three shots.
“Not bad,” said Morgan.
“Not bad? I missed the target completely!”
“But your form is good. You just need to relax a bit more. You’re psyching yourself out. Try again. Take a deep breath, let it out slowly, and then squeeze the trigger gently.”
She shot three more times. This time, she hit the target twice, though wide of the bull’s-eye.
“See?” he said. “You’re getting better already.”
“I guess. Now I need to reload.”
“Hold on,” said Morgan. “Lesson time. First thing you need to know is that a weapon can be your best friend or your worst enemy. You always handle it with respect and you never take it out of your holster unless you intend to use it. Remember this always: there’s no such thing as a warning shot. When you take out your weapon, it’s to put someone down. Do you understand?”
She nodded solemnly. “I understand.”
“Good. Now look. That guy’s about to shoot an automatic. I want you to listen for the shots and count how many bullets he spent.”
The man loosed a long string of bullets.
“So,” said Morgan. “How many was that?”
“How am I supposed to know?” asked Alex, bewildered.
“By listening,” said Morgan. “It helps to know the firing rate for most common automatic weapons. But let me tell you, that knowledge could save your life.”
Later, in the car, she asked him, “What’s it like to kill someone? I mean, in cold blood.”
“Is that something you plan on doing sometime soon?” he asked.
“It’s just a question.”
“I’m sure,” he said. “Well let me tell you something. All this training you’re doing isn’t worth a thing, not a thing, if you’re not willing to shoot. You can’t hesitate, can’t stop yourself from doing what you need to do. You’re your own worst enemy in that situation. Because, nine times out of ten, the one who wins any fight is the one who shoots first.”
“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem,” she said breezily.
“Don’t get cocky,” he said. “Talk is cheap. It’s different when there’s a person’s life in your crosshairs.”
“All right, Dad,” she said. “I’ll keep that in mind. Can we come again tomorrow?”
“Not tomorrow,” he said. “I’ve got something I need to do down in the city. But maybe next week.”
They were quiet during the ride back to the house, and Morgan began to think that Alex was putting more time and energy into his way of life than he had realized. He was not entirely comfortable with her choice, but knew that the more he objected, the more she would dig in her heels. He wondered what Jenny would say when she found out what her sweet little girl was up to.