Crime Zero (6 page)

The structure was built to exacting federal standards and could withstand an earthquake or a direct hit from any known warhead. This was intended less to protect the inhabitants than to ensure nothing inside escaped. The concentric circle design was based on the Russian model; each glass-walled airtight circle was kept at an increasingly lower air pressure toward the center. Any breach in the reinforced glass walls would suck air into and not out of the structure.

Each circle represented a staging post, reflecting the four classified levels of virus. Level one viruses, such as influenza, were stored and researched in the outer circle. Levels two and three viruses, including HIV and hepatitis, were in two circles closer to the center and required increased protective clothing and vaccinations. Level four viruses, so-called hot agents, such as Ebola and Marburg, with up to a 90 percent mortality rate, were housed in the penultimate area and required full biological suits. In the few institutions authorized to house these highly infectious agents, including the U.S. Army Research Institute of Infectious Diseases (USAMRIID) at Fort Detrick in Maryland and the Centers for Disease Control in Atlanta, there was no more dangerous area than the BioSafety Level 4 lab, the so-called Hot Zone.

But at ViroVector there was one more level of peril. The central circle was a Level 5 facility. Ahead was an airtight door. "BioSafety Level 1," was printed on the glass in ten-inch-high red letters. Again she placed her palm over the DNA sensor and stepped through when the door opened. Walking down a glass corridor, she could see the Level 1 laboratory facilities to her left and right. They were busy but not overpopulated with white-coated virologists. Much of her viral work was now automated. In one corner on the right were the huge stainless steel refrigerators that housed ViroVector's library of bacteriophage samples. Alice Prince was particularly proud of her phage collection.

ViroVector owned the largest selection of phage specimens known to humankind. These quasi-viruses fed on bacteria, such as Mycobacterium, Staphylococcus, and Enterococcus. Each was bacterium-specific, feeding off a particular strain, mutating with it so the bacterium could never develop immunity, as it could to antibiotics. In the mid-nineties, at a time when the power of bacteriophage technology was discredited by the giant drug companies still trying to sell their increasingly ineffective antibiotics, Alice Prince had seen an opportunity.

Her company had bought access to the vast phage library in the Tbilisi Institute in Georgia, collected during the Soviet Communist era of central control. Having replicated and enlarged the collection, ViroVector now had a phage virus to kill most known bacteria. And since the year 2000 many Western hospitals, plagued by antibiotic-immune superbugs, such as methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus and vancomycin-resistant Enterococcus, had been forced to use her company's products to sterilize their wards and operating rooms. Now airports and many train stations and seaports used ViroVector's bacteriophage air purifiers in their embarkation and disembarkation tunnels, as viral customs officers to reduce the risk of deadly bacteria moving around the world with their human hosts. The bacteriophage business had become ViroVector's major income stream, funding much of its growth.

Looking straight ahead, Alice made her way through the sealed doors leading to BioSafety Level 2 and then Level 3.

These labs were smaller, and many of the personnel wore masks. Leaving Level 3, she found herself in a decontamination and preparation area equipped with chemical decon showers, scrub stations, and another row of lockers. Alice walked to her locker and pulled out a blue Chemturion biological space suit with "Alice Prince" printed on the back. After checking it for tears, she suited up and then made her way to the BioSafety Level 4 door. Keeping her head still, she allowed the retina scanner to confirm her identity through the glass of her visor and then walked into a buffer chamber. Once the first door had closed the next opened, and she was finally in a glass corridor that passed through Level 4. She was now in the hot core of the biolab complex. To her right was a door to the Level 4 labs, and through the glass she could see scientists wearing suits similar to hers. To her left was another yellow elevator door. This led down two more levels to the extensively equipped BioSafety Level 4 hospital and the BioSafety Level 4 morgue below that. Both were rarely used, but every eventuality had to be covered.

Dr. Prince carried on to the heart of the biolab complex, to the door with "BioSafety Level 5" stamped on it in red. Standing for her retina to be scanned one final time, she waited for the door to open, allowing her access to what most scientists at ViroVector ironically called the Womb.

The Womb was one of the most perilous places on earth. Gleaming apparatus sat atop otherwise uncluttered worktops, and in one corner stood a six-foot-high Genescope, the black swanlike instrument that could decode an organism's entire genome from one body cell. The room looked harmless enough with its nonslip white floor tiles, spotless stainless steel tables, freezers, and walls of reinforced glass. But despite the reassuring cleanliness and hi-tech equipment, humans did not reign here. The virus did. And one pinprick in Prince's protective clothing could mean a short visit down to the BioSafety Level 4 hospital before she was transferred even lower to the BioSafety Level 4 morgue.

However, as soon as she entered the Womb and heard the door hiss closed behind her, Prince felt safer than when she was in the outside world. Usually she had an assistant with her, but today she wanted privacy, so she had the room to herself. This place was classified as BioSafety Level 5 because nature was not only studied in here but tampered with. And when one played God, there was always the risk of creating an even more deadly strain.

It was in the Womb that Prince and her team genetically engineered viruses and created new ones. Viruses are basically nonthinking capsules of genetic material wrapped in protein that exist to seek out hosts in order to reproduce themselves. When a virus finds a host with receptive cells, it enters one of those cells and, like a cuckoo taking over a sparrow's nest, usurps the genetic code already there, replacing it with its own. Then, when the cell containing the new viral DNA divides and replicates, the virus copies itself. Thus the virus spreads throughout the body.

This property made it ideal for delivering gene therapy, the technology of spreading modified genes throughout a human patient's damaged cells. By scooping out a virus's own genetic material, Prince and her team could render it harmless. They could then insert new therapeutic DNA into the virus and create a vector to target a diseased cancer cell or cystic fibrosis cell and reprogram the cell's damaged genes. Creating viral vectors was at the very heart of Vi-roVector's work. Alice Prince had founded her company by specializing in turning lethal viral killers into genetically engineered "magic bullets" to deliver some of the most spectacular cures in modern medicine. With viral vectors she could change a human's genes, correcting the genetic inheritance received at birth.

ViroVector had become successful by focusing on viral DNA. It rarely developed the therapeutic human genes, just the viral vector to target and deliver them to the patient. Prince and her team knew more about viruses than any organization on earth. Even the CDC in Atlanta and USAMRIID frequently consulted them for advice. And personnel were often exchanged among the different institutions to foster learning.

Alice Prince felt at peace here in this temple to science, insulated from the stresses and worries of the outside world. When she put a lethal filovirus under the electron microscope and lost herself in its threadlike beauty, she could almost forget about losing Libby, her only daughter, ten years ago, or about the husband who had deserted her. Gazing at her glass library of viruses, she felt safe and in control, each vial a precious and powerful balm.

The vials in the refrigerator in front of her were slotted into trays, and each carried a small white computer-generated label with a bar code down one side. "Ebola filovirus (V. 3)" was typed on one vial, "HIV retrovirus hybrid" on another, "Adenovirus 5: gene therapy vector for sickle-cell anemia" on yet another.

At the bottom of the refrigerator a black rack contained twenty shorter, stubby vials. Each of these bore a label with a Pentagon-approved code. All contained viral vectors genetically engineered to counter known biological weapons. "BioShield #7" immunized against anthrax, and "BioShield #13" against most known rheovirus pathogens. ViroVector sold these vaccines to many of the world powers--friend and foe alike. Classified as medicines, they could bypass even the most stringent sanctions.

As she ran a gloved hand over the vials, the tinkling sound was to her the music of endless possibilities. Here in the Womb she could fundamentally change things, turn the bad into good. Create order out of chaos for the random world outside.

With a small sigh she shifted her attention to the job at hand. She walked to a small black safe in the corner beside the Genescope gene scanner. "LENICA 101" was written in big red letters across the front. Bending, she punched in the code on the electronic keypad, and the door opened. Inside the refrigerated interior was a tray of five vials, each the size of a large cigar. Two of them were of red glass, and three of green. The red vials were labeled "Conscience Vector (V. 1.0)" and "Conscience Vector (V. 1.9)." The three green vials bore the legends "Crime Zero (Phase 1--telomeres test)," "Crime Zero (Phase 2)," and "Crime Zero (Phase 3)."

She put the tray on a work surface next to one of the three computer terminals and turned the red vials around in their slots so their bar codes were exposed. Then she took a computer wand from next to the monitor and scanned the bar codes of "Conscience Vector (V. 1.0)" and "Conscience Vector (V. 1.9)." As she did so, she watched the monitor to her left, checking the differences between the two vectors. She pressed "Print" so a hard copy would appear on the ground-level printer above. The differences between Version 1.0 and Version 1.9 were negligible, certainly not significant enough to merit troubling the Food and Drug Administration. She only hoped Dr. Kathy Kerr would agree.

She then turned to the green vials. These were even more important than the Project Conscience vectors. Kathy Kerr knew nothing about them. First she scanned "Crime Zero (Phase 1--telomeres test)." When she looked at the computer monitor and watched the project summary spreadsheet appear, she noted the six names with "San Quentin" typed above them. The five younger men had recent dates beside them--all different--plus a file number, referring to the autopsy findings. The same five had a tick in the far right column of the spreadsheet. So far all had met TITANIA's predicted timings. Only the sixth remained undated and unticked: Karl Axelman.

Alice Prince took a deep breath. She could see from the projected date in the left-hand column that Axelman was due anytime now. TITANIA had already brought forward the Phase 2 shipments to Iraq to meet the looming crisis. This was on the understanding that Phase 1 would be fine. They couldn't possibly go to Phase 3 if either 1 or 2 was compromised. To compound her concern, there was also the call she had received from the orphanage in Cartamena. It was probably only a scare, and she would hear back any moment. But it still made her nervous. Project Conscience was going to be difficult enough. Perhaps Crime Zero was too ambitious, too risky, whatever Madeline Naylor said.

A sudden beep made her heart lurch, and she instinctively checked her suit for tears. Then, realizing it was only the signal for the door opening, she breathed a sigh of relief and vowed to have the tone changed; it was too similar to the biosuit alarms. Turning around, she heard the hiss of the airtight seals and watched the lab door to her left slowly open. She had expressly instructed her senior staff with Silver level access to the Womb that she wanted the place to herself for the next hour.

Flustered, she switched off the computer and reached for the tray of colored vials. But before she could move them, a blue suit entered the Womb. When it turned, Alice saw Kathy Kerr's excited face smiling through the visor. Kerr glanced at the tray for a moment before Alice awkwardly stepped in front of it.

"Alice, I've just heard the news. Isn't it great?" Kathy said. Alice smiled but said nothing, letting Kathy continue. "The FDA have approved all the Conscience safety tests for Version nine. Now, at last, we can go ahead with efficacy trials on criminals. Isn't it brilliant?"

Alice Prince nodded. "Yes, yes, it's great," she said quickly, turning to put the tray back in the safe. The last person she wanted to see the vials was Kathy Kerr. She scolded herself for not including Kerr in her request for privacy. Kathy had Silver level clearance but was based down the road at Stanford University. "Look, Kathy, I'm busy now. And really I had planned to be alone."

Kathy's smile faded. She looked embarrassed. "Oh, I'm sorry, Alice. I didn't realize."

Alice closed the safe, heard the lock click, and then turned to Kathy. "That's OK. It's good news. Madeline Nay-lor's coming tomorrow. We'll celebrate then. OK?"

Kathy looked at her, obviously disappointed she wasn't more excited. "OK, Alice. See you tomorrow," she said quietly, and left.

As soon as the door closed behind her, the speakerphone beeped. "Dr. Prince, I have a call from Director Naylor for you," said a voice from the speaker by the door. "It's on a secure line."