Nelson DeMille - Plum Island

Mr. Foster said, "The FBI is not involved in this case, Chief."

"Right. I forgot. Neither is the CIA." He looked at Beth. "How about the county police? You guys involved?"

Beth replied, "Involved and in charge." She said to Dr. Zollner, "Can you describe to us the duties of the Gordons?"

"Yes… They were involved mostly with… genetic research. Genetic alteration of viruses to make them unable to cause disease, but able to stimulate the body's immune system."

"A vaccine?" Beth asked.

"Yes, a new type of vaccine. Much safer than using a weakened virus."

"And in their work, they had access to all types of virus and bacteria?"

"Yes, of course. Mostly virus."

Beth went on, shifting to the more traditional homicide investigation questions regarding friends, enemies, debts, threats, relationships with co-workers, recalled conversations with the deceased, how the deceased appeared to act in the last week or so, and on and on. Good homicide stuff, but probably not totally relevant. Yet, it all had to be asked, and it would be asked again and again of almost everyone the Gordons knew, then asked again of those already interviewed to see if there were any inconsistencies in their statements. What we needed in this case, if you assumed the theft of deadly bugs, was a big break, the "Advance to Go" card, something to bypass the procedural crap before the world ended.

I looked at the abstracts on the walls and realized that these weren't paintings, but color photographs… I had a feeling these were diseases — bacteria and stuff, infecting blood and cells and all that, photographed with a microscope. Weird. But actually, they weren't all that bad.

Zollner noticed my gaze and interrupted his reply to some question, saying, "Even disease-causing organisms can be beautiful."

Absolutely," I agreed. "I have a suit with that pattern. The green and red squiggly ones there."

"Yes? That's a filovirus — Ebola, actually. Dyed, of course. Those little things could kill you in forty-eight hours. No cure."

"And they're here in this building?"

"Perhaps."

"Cops don't like that word, Doctor. Yes or no?"

"Yes. But safely stored — frozen and under lock and key." He added, "And we only play with simian Ebola here. Monkey Ebola, not human Ebola."

"And you've done an inventory of your bugs?"

"Yes. But to be honest, there is no way we could account for every specimen. And then you have the problem of someone propagating certain organisms in an unauthorized place. Yes, yes, I know what you're getting at. You believe the Gordons took some very exotic and deadly organisms, and perhaps sold them to… well, let's say a foreign power. But I assure you, they would not do that."

"Why not?"

"Because it's too terrible to contemplate."

"That's very reassuring," I said. "Hey, we can go home now."

Dr. Zollner looked at me, not used to my humor, I suppose. He really did look like Burl Ives, and I was going to ask him for a photo and autograph.

Finally, Dr. Zollner leaned across his desk toward me and said in his slight accent, "Detective Corey, if you had the key to the gates of hell, would you open them? If you did, you should be a very fast runner."

I contemplated this a moment, then replied, "If opening the gates of hell is so unthinkable, then why do you need a lock and key?"

He nodded and replied, "I suppose to protect us from madmen." He added, "Of course, the Gordons were not mad."

No one replied. We'd all been through this before, verbally and mentally, a dozen times since last night.

Finally, Dr. Zollner said, "I have another theory which I will share with you and which I believe will prove true within this day. Here is my theory — my belief. The Gordons, who were wonderful people, but somewhat carefree and terrible with money, stole one of the new vaccines they were working on. I believe they were further advanced on the research of a vaccine than they led us to believe. Unfortunately, this sometimes happens in science. They may have made separate notes and even separate sequencing gels — these are transparent plates where genetically engineered mutations, which are inserted into a disease-causing virus, show up as… something resembling a bar code," he explained.

No one said a word, and he continued, "So, consider that the Gordons could have discovered a wonderful new vaccine for a terrible disease-causing virus — animal, human, or both — and kept this discovery secret, and over the months assembled all their notes, genetic gels, and the vaccine itself in some hidden area of the laboratory, or in a deserted building on the island. Their purpose, of course, would be to sell this to perhaps a foreign pharmaceutical firm. Perhaps they intended to resign from here, take a job with a private firm, and pretend to make the discovery there. Then, they would get a very handsome bonus amounting to millions of dollars. And the royalties could be tens of millions of dollars, depending on the vaccine."

No one spoke. I glanced at Beth. She had actually predicted this when we were standing on the bluff.

Dr. Zollner continued, "This makes sense. No? People who work with life and death would rather sell life. If for no other reason than it's safer, and it's more profitable. Death is cheap. I could kill you with a whiff of anthrax. Life is more difficult to protect and preserve. So, if the death of the Gordons was in any way connected to their work here, then it was connected as I said. Why would you think of disease-causing virus and bacteria? Why do your minds work that way? As we say, if your only tool is a hammer, then every problem looks like a nail. Yes? Well, but I don't blame you. We always think the worst. And this is your job."

Again, no one spoke.

Dr. Zollner looked at each of us and continued. "If the Gordons did this, it was unethical and also illegal. And whoever was their agent — their middleman — was also unethical and greedy, and it would appear he was also murderous."

It appeared that the good Dr. Zollner had thought this through.

He went on. "This would not be the first time that government scientists or corporate scientists have conspired to steal their own discovery and become millionaires. It is very frustrating for geniuses to see others make millions from their work. And the stakes are very high. If this vaccine, for instance, could be used in a widespread disease, such as AIDS, then we are talking about hundreds of millions of dollars. Even billions for the discoverers."

We all glanced at one another. Billions . So, there you are. The Gordons wanted to be rich, but more I think, they wanted to be famous. They wanted to be recognized, they wanted the vaccine named after them, like the Salk vaccine. That would not have happened here. What we do here is kept very quiet except within the scientific community. The Gordons were somewhat flamboyant for scientists. They were young, they wanted material things. They wanted the American Dream, and they were sure they had earned it. And, you know, they really had. They were brilliant, overworked, and underpaid. So they sought to remedy that. I only wonder what it was they discovered, and I worry that we will not recover it. I wonder, too, who killed them, though I'm sure I know why. So, what do you think? Yes? No?"

Ted Nash spoke first and said, "I think that's it, Doctor. I think you're right."

George Foster nodded. "We had the right idea, but the wrong bug. Vaccine. Of course."

Max, too, nodded and said, "Makes perfect sense. I'm relieved. Yeah."

Beth spoke. "I still have to find the murderer. But I think we can stop looking for terrorists and start looking for another type of person or persons."

I looked at Dr. Zollner awhile, and he looked back at me. His glasses were thick, but you could see the blue twinkling eyes. Maybe not Burl Ives. Maybe Colonel Sanders. That was it. How appropriate. The head of the world's largest animal disease research lab looks like Colonel Sanders.