The Colony: A Novel (8 page)

Paul looked flabbergasted, as if this was all news to him, crucial information he should have been given before anyone else. He said to the colonel, “You gassed the ants?”

“They can be killed in a tank,” Dawson replied. “Certainly not in a city.”

“So you’ve been studying the specimens for two years?”

“We analyzed them for several months. But they died off rather quickly.”

“Surely you learned
something
about them.”

The general motioned to a uniformed officer by his side. “This is Colonel Tom Garrett. He was working with the team of army scientists studying the specimens and following up on leads with the FBI. Anything we learned in two years, he can share with you.”

Garrett was a tall man in his sixties, with a pasty complexion and dour expression. His salt-and-pepper hair was stiffly sprayed. Despite his chicken-like neck, the cut of his uniform hinted at an athletic frame. He glanced around the table and his gaze lingered on Kendra for just a moment.

“I’ll tell you what I know,” he began. “We believe the project was going on since the 1980s, funded by a group known as Earth Avengers, an extraordinarily sophisticated and clandestine sect of ecoterrorists. These people had access to an unprecedented amount of money, resources and highly trained entomologists. From what the FBI uncovered, it seems their goal was to create man’s ultimate natural enemy. One which could fight back against human destruction of the planet. The insect they created was a genetic mutation of the Siafu and fire ant, which they named Siafu Moto, Swahili for ‘driver ant-fire.’ The result of their work was the most deadly, indestructible creature on earth. The ants live underground and have a lethal sting. They multiply by the millions. They feed at night and will attack anything that moves. Their diet consists of rats and human flesh.”

“Just rats and people?” Pat Dempsey asked, amused.

“We believe they were developed to be an urban weapon,” General Dawson replied. “Kill off people and leave most other creatures alone.”

“New York’s a long crawl from Bolivia,” Pat said. “How did they get under our city?”

“It was Dr. Laredo, the project leader. We believe he escaped the fire and took off with a Siafu Moto queen.”

Cameron added, “The FBI has been tracking him since the raid. We found nothing until a month ago. A photo of a dead man resembling Laredo was taken by NYPD just days after the fire in Bolivia. He was found in Riverside Park. Shot himself in the head.”

Kendra grimaced.

Garrett said, “If Laredo released that queen before killing himself, it’s possible she has produced millions of ants, as well as her clones, which would have started their own colonies all over the city. There may be a trillion ants under Manhattan.”

“That’s insane,” said Pat.

“Maybe,” Garrett replied. “Maybe not.”

Paul spoke with a renewed sense of hope. “We’ll need every speck of research you recovered from the lab. All the genetic modifications, the tests and findings.”

“Didn’t you hear the general?” Garrett said. “The facility was destroyed. All the scientists are dead. I can’t give you anything.”

“You didn’t collect any documents?” Paul said tersely. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Like he said,” the general cut in, “there are no records. Aside from the president of the United States and the faces you see in this room, there are less than fifty individuals in the world who even know about these ants. Let me make this clear; any information regarding the Siafu Moto is proprietary to the United States military. As a matter of national security, there will be no communication beyond this bunker.” He glanced around the table. “You cannot speak to anyone about this. Not your families and certainly not the media.”

His words were met with nervous stares among the group, except for the White House representatives, who sat rigid.

Then the general turned almost apologetic. “Of course, the United States Army takes full responsibility for this disaster. Both the raid and destruction of the facility were tactical errors.”

Colonel Garrett showed no remorse. “The problem will be contained. There is no doubt about that.”

“A trillion ants. I still don’t believe it,” insisted Pat. “What, are they invisible? We’ve had just a handful of attacks.”

Kendra was pondering the same question. “He’s right. And there would be other signs as well. Fire ants create enormous tunnels. A large colony can loosen soil to the point of road collapse. They’re attracted to electrical fields, constantly causing power outages and cable damage. In Texas, ants are the leading cause of traffic light failures. A trillion could black out this city.”

The room fell silent and everyone stared dumbly at Kendra. The mayor cleared his throat and turned to his staff with an accusing tone. “I guess that would explain our rash of subway outages. Sixteen road cave-ins this year. Con Ed is nearly out of their minds with shortages.”

“Not to mention the missing rat population,” Pat muttered. Then he added, “Still, there must be some kind of bug spray we could dump on them.”

The mayor called attention to three men sitting around the table in identical pinstriped suits. “These gentlemen are representatives from the largest chemical companies in the world.”

Kendra scrutinized the men. All three were beaming with pride, as if they were superheroes flown in to save the planet. She recognized the tall one from Cytex, the largest global manufacturer of insecticides. He was an irritating man named Preston something-or-other, who tried to compensate for his baldness by pulling the last fringe of his hair into a slim ponytail. Preston had tried to shut down COP’s journal for what he called repeatedly misstating facts. He gave Kendra a sly wink, signaling that he remembered her too.

“The three of you will be working with Dr. O’Keefe,” the mayor announced, and smiled at the men with optimism. “Paul tells me you have some effective methods to stop all types of insects.”

“Quite effective, yes,” Preston assured the mayor, and the other two nodded accordingly.

Flustered, Kendra eyed Paul, and he turned away. Working with pesticide companies had long been a point of disparity between them. Paul reasoned it was easier to work with them than fight them. “There’s never been a pesticide that has been able to stop the spread of fire ants,” she told the mayor definitively.

The mayor forced a grin. “And what do you propose we do?”

“I’m not sure,” she replied. “Did anyone think about evacuating the city?”

Paul stifled a chuckle, covering his mouth with a cough. The mayor’s staff seemed to look in six different directions. Kendra had the feeling the subject had been brought up before.

“Eight million people?” Russo cocked his head, ripped off his glasses. “Do you have any idea how much money that kind of undertaking would cost? Police, emergency crews, assistance for the sick and elderly, temporary housing, transit and traffic—”

She raised a defensive hand. “Hey, you’re the one claiming these ants—”

“Forty million dollars!” he declared. “Per day. I’m not even taking into account yet another huge collapse of the stock market and worldwide financial loss.”

“Financial loss?” she burst out with a biting smirk.

“Look.” The mayor held up his hands with the placating smile of a longtime politician. “This isn’t something that’s going to be solved with a couple of pest strips and a can of Raid. It may take years to get rid of them.”

“So what do we do in the meantime?” Pat asked.

“We play offense. The last attack was underground. We’ll be shutting down the Lexington subway line, sending in excavation teams. They’ll be in full gear, tearing up the walls next week. Paul, we’re going to need the most help from the scientific community. Someone has to figure out how to kill these things. I’ve assembled this team because we’ve got to keep this city running, and I know you can be trusted not to say a word about this.”

“So we’re the whole team? Are we supposed to save the city by ourselves?” Pat asked.

“Don’t be ridiculous. We’ve got the army, the FBI, Homeland Security. People are going mad in Washington trying to solve this crisis.”

“Great,” Pat muttered, glancing at the attorney general. “Washington.”

“So how are we supposed to kill them?” Pat nodded to Colonel Garrett. “Didn’t you just tell us these ants are indestructible?”

The colonel replied, “Out in the field, they are virtually impossible to destroy.” He looked at Kendra. “You are correct that pesticides are probably out of the question. The same is true for conventional warfare, chemical and biological weapons, megabombs and fuel air bombs. So far, we know of only one full-proof method to kill them. When hit with a blast of atomic radiation, they die instantly.”

No one said anything. The White House chief counsel looked pale.

“There are other ways to destroy ants,” Kendra finally said. “Advanced technologies that won’t leave the city a toxic dump or radioactive wasteland.”

The mayor raised a brow. “Let’s try to remember, these are bugs after all.”

“Insects,” Kendra corrected out of habit.

“Whatever,” the mayor continued. “Paul has been running tests all week and I have no doubt that he can eventually figure out how to kill them.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” Paul said. “Ms. Hart, would you like to review the findings?”

Before she could respond, Russo said, “That’s an excellent idea. Tomorrow I expect your lists of problems and solutions—I don’t want any more deaths on my watch.”

The group rose in quiet murmurs.

Kendra nearly bumped squarely into Agent Cameron. “Smiling Dan,” she said with sarcasm.

He handed her a map of the bunker. “You’ll need this. It’s a diagram of the entire complex.”

She stared at the long tunnels and tiny chambers. “Looks like an ant colony.”

“You can enter any of these rooms. Cafeteria, laboratory, computer room, laundry, everything you’ll need.”

“Everything but sky.”

“You won’t be leaving for a few days. Cell phones don’t work but the mayor has an outside line in his office. All the computers have Internet connections, carefully monitored by a security team. I can escort you outside for emergencies only.”

“Thanks, Dan.” Paul took Kendra by the elbow. “I think she’s all right for now.”

Agent Cameron smiled through straight white teeth. “Paul O’Keefe, right? Belong to a few radical organizations.”

“I guess. If you consider Greenpeace radical.”

“Scientists for the Preservation of Earth. Americans for Responsible Government.”

“Your point?”

Cameron looked at Paul, his eyes icy and emotionless. “No point, Doctor.”

CHAPTER 12

THE SMELL OF FORMALDEHYDE
was a comforting memory to Kendra as she checked out the laboratory. The squared walls were painted white and the lab was well stocked. There were bottles of dead ants with their legs to the ceiling and live ones feverishly cleaning antennas. Microscopes, beakers and test tubes lined black lacquer counters. Inside an open closet she could see a stack of boxes containing ant-proof suits labeled
BUG OUT
, and she wondered if there was a field trip in her future.

And then there was Paul. Despite the underlying rage of being kidnapped, Kendra felt excited to be near him again. There was no denying the fluttering in her stomach. It felt less like butterflies than a flock of seagulls fighting over the last clam. She was disgusted at the way she licked her lips to make them glossier, instead of turning on her heels and walking out.

“Well, well,” she said smugly. “Everything we need to save an entire city.”

“I stocked the place myself.”

“An actual electron microscope,” she quipped. “Guess you thought of everything.”

“Yes,” he answered, eyeing her from head to toe. “I did.”

She finally snapped. “Paul, what the hell is going on!”

The spell was broken.

“You heard what they said.”

“I heard an utterly preposterous story. The very idea that ants can be trained like—like circus monkeys is ridiculous.” She folded her arms and blurted, “I don’t know why you chose me of all people to
assist
you, but if you were hoping for a cheery reunion, it’s too late. You blew it.”

“I blew it? You’re the one who ran off to the desert. Besides, it didn’t take you long to get over me and move on to the next guy.”

“Are you talking about Jeremy?” Her cheeks flushed. “That was a corporate merger.”

“It was a merger, all right. The ant community is pretty small, Kendra. You had an affair.”

“It’s not an affair when your divorce papers are sitting in the mailbox.”

Paul was getting mad. “Can you forget about yourself for a moment?” he shot back. “We’re having a little problem here with some very scary insects.”

Kendra let out a bark of laughter. She had already decided she wanted no part of this charade. It had been her view for quite some time that the world was going to hell and she had no intention of wading into the mess. National politics over oil, taxes and health care had reached the brink of insanity. Global warming. Genocide. Jihad. A neglectful husband. Mutant ants from hell sounded like just another man-made catastrophe.

“I understand you’re angry,” he said, trying to sound calm.

“
Angry?”
Kendra was fuming. “Why would I be angry!” She snatched up a specimen jar and the tiny ant braced itself. “I’m in the desert counting ants when Agent Double-O Psycho nabs me, only to find out my ex-husband—”

“I didn’t think you’d come,” he cut in and swiped the jar from her hand.

“You were right!” Kendra picked up a test tube and flung it across the room. It smashed into the wall.

“Oh, that’s real mature,” Paul said.

There it was. The same patronizing tone she despised. Kendra picked up another test tube and tossed it like a Frisbee. The sound of shattering glass had no calming effect at all.

“
Jesus,
Kendra. You’re a
scientist,
for chrissakes.”

She answered with a defiant poke to his chest. “I was about to make the greatest breakthrough in modern entomology. Save billions of dollars in lost crops, not to mention a dozen lives a year!”