Scott Sigler - Ancestor

DANTÉ PAGLIONE SAT behind his massive white marble desk, watching, waiting. His brother, Magnus, sat on the other side of the desk, reclining in one of the two leather chairs, cell phone pressed to his left ear, eyes narrowed. Magnus’s nostrils flared open, shut. Open, shut. His thumb constantly spun the Grey Cup championship ring on his right hand. The office lights gleamed off of Magnus’s shaved head.

To anyone else in the world, Magnus looked perfectly calm. In truth he was . Always. At least on the surface. But Danté had known Magnus all of his life, and he could tell when something chewed at his little brother’s guts.

“Continue,” Magnus said into the phone.

Danté looked to his office wall, taking in the series of original Leonardo da Vinci sketches. Da Vinci’s work was the epitome of control, of calmness, methodical execution of perfection. Things that Danté strived for in all phases of his life.

“Elaborate,” Magnus said into the phone. His nose flared again, just a little. He sat up slowly until his back was perfectly straight. Separated by only a year and a half, Danté and Magnus looked extremely similar—both had violet eyes, a big jaw, both were tall and solid, but Magnus had spent far more time in the weight room and it showed.

Although the two were instantly recognizable as brothers, the youngest had another key differentiator—he just looked dangerous. The thin scar running from his left eyebrow down to his left cheek was a big part of that look. And when Magnus focused like he was focusing now, staring off into nothing, that cold brain processing all the information, the truth was that Danté’s kid brother looked creepy as fuck.

Magnus folded the phone, casually slid it into an inside pocket of his tailored sport coat, then sat back slowly and crossed his left leg over his right knee. “The Novozyme facility in Denmark blew up.”

“Blew up? The animal rights activists bombed it?”

“Somewhat bigger than that,” Magnus said. “Our little NSA hacker friend isn’t sure, but she thinks it was a fuel-air explosive.”

Danté let out a slow breath. He didn’t have to ask what that meant. There was only one reason to incinerate a billion-dollar facility: a virus had jumped species. “What about Matal and his staff?”

“Dead,” Magnus said. “He was in the facility. The entire main staff is gone.”

Danté nodded. Novozyme was Genada’s primary competitor. Matal had been their answer to Claus Rhumkorrf. You could always build new facilities, but you couldn’t replace talent like Rhumkorrf or Matal. In the gold rush for viable xenotransplantation, Novozyme was no longer a factor.

“This works for us,” Danté said. “Novozyme is out of the game.”

Magnus smiled, just a little. “I’m afraid the game is over. For everyone. The G8 are cooperating to shut all of us down. Farm Girl says Fischer is in charge, and he’s starting with us.”

Farm Girl. The code name for their NSA contact. She would never reveal her real name. Only Magnus spoke with her. Farm Girl’s information was always reliable, and she was right—if Fischer was coming their way, it meant major problems.

Anger, annoyance and anxiety all flared up in Danté’s chest. Fischer had come after Genada when Galina Poriskova tried to blow the whistle on the surrogate mother fetal experiments. Danté had hired P. J. Colding and Tim Feely to clean up the mess and get rid of any evidence. If those two hadn’t succeeded, Fischer would have shut the company down and probably sent Danté and Magnus to jail.

Magnus’s smile faded, his blank expression returned. “Kind of ironic, isn’t it?”

“What is?”

“That we get shut down over a virus jumping species, and yet our specific line of work ensures that can’t happen. If only you hadn’t kept that a secret, Danté, the G8 would leave us be.”

“We couldn’t announce our method. If we had, Novozyme and Monsanto and the others would have tried to copy it.”

Magnus shrugged and raised his eyebrows, a gesture that said oh well .

It was bad, but perhaps not that bad. Danté could find a way to make it work. “What if we tell them now? I can call Fischer. Or better yet, have Colding do it. They have a history.”

Magnus laughed. “They’re not exactly poker buddies. And anyway, it’s too late now. They won’t believe our methods are safe, not after Novozyme’s accident. It’s over.”

Danté took a deep breath. He let it out, slow and controlled. There was always a way. He hadn’t made Genada one of the world’s largest biotechs by sitting around waiting for something to happen. He succeeded because he always thought ahead.

“We knew it might come to this,” Danté said. “That’s why we have the plane.”

Magnus stared for several seconds. His right hand rubbed at his left forearm, the fabric hissing quietly in the silent room. His nostrils were flaring again.

“Danté, you can’t be serious about actually using that thing.”

“Of course I’m serious. You think we spent fifty million dollars on something so we don’t use it when we need it most? Rhumkorrf is close. They could have an embryo within a few weeks.”

“Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,” Magnus said. “Funny how I’ve heard the phrase within a few weeks for the last six months.”

“Rhumkorrf produces results, Magnus. Venter’s artificial bacteria, bringing the quagga back from extinction… every project he touches ends in success. He’s been producing Nobel-quality work since he was ten years old.”

“Has he also been racking up billion-dollar debts since he was ten years old?”

“Screw the debt,” Danté said. “We’ve invested far too much money to abandon this.”

“Invested? Is that what you still call it? We’re broke. The well has run dry. Do you have any idea what it costs to actually fly that contraption?”

“I know.”

“And what about Sara Purinam and her crew? That makes four new noses deep in our business. The more people, the more chance for infiltration.”

“Now you sound like Colding.”

The small smile returned. “A rare occurrence, I assure you, but sometimes Colding is right. Every person we add is a risk, or did you already forget about Galina?”

Danté’s face felt hot. He didn’t like to talk about that girl, not with his brother. “No, I haven’t forgotten her. But we have to bring in Purinam and her crew. We just don’t have a choice.”

“Of course we have a choice. We had a choice with Galina.”

It wasn’t what Magnus said, but the way he said it. Danté blinked a few times. “That’s not funny.”

“Odd,” Magnus said. “I’m so well known for my sense of humor.”

Danté shook his head. Surely Magnus couldn’t seriously suggest such a thing. “This is different. These people are loyal to us, so don’t mention it again.”

“Are you sure? Colding and Feely, they’re both ex-USAMRIID, same department Fischer works for.”

“We wouldn’t even have a company if it wasn’t for Colding.”

Magnus shrugged. “And Feely? How do you know Fischer doesn’t have him on a string?”

Danté rubbed his temples. “What choice do we have? Colding tells me Feely is the only reason Jian and Erika can work together at all.”

“I think we should just end it.”

“And then what? Do you want to tell the Chinese that Jian is gone? That their money is gone?”

Magnus looked at the da Vinci sketches. “Speaking of money, the Chinese cut us off even before the Novozyme incident. No more spendy-spendy for you, round-eye. The whole company is in the red because of Rhumkorrf’s project, and now we’re adding costs with Purinam and the plane? How are we going to pay for this?”