'A cockroach incapable of intelligent thought.'

'I never knew you felt that way.'

Fenwick laughed and scratched the tip of his nose.

'Everything you do is merely a reflex,' Anawak continued, unabashed, 'so if I were a neurophysiology, I could steer your behaviour with no trouble at all. I'd only have to control your reflexes and trigger them as required. You'd be like an artificial limb. I'd just have to push the right buttons.'

'Wasn't there an experiment where they beheaded a beetle and sewed on another one's head?' said Ford. 'If I remember rightly, it could walk.'

'Almost. They decapitated one cockroach, and chopped the legs off another. Then they joined the central nervous systems. The cockroach with the head took control of the legs as though they were its own. That's what I'm getting at: simple processes for simple creatures. There was another experiment where they tried something similar with mice. They took a mouse and grafted a second head on to its body. It lived a surprisingly long time – a few hours or days, I think. In any case, both heads seemed to function normally, but the mouse had trouble coordinating its movement. It was able to walk, but not always in the direction it intended, so it mostly fell over after a few steps.'

'Appalling,' muttered Oliviera.

'So, it's technically possible to gain control of any organism, but the more complex it is, the more difficult that becomes. Imagine dealing with a complex organism that's also conscious, intelligent, creative and self-aware. It's pretty darned hard to make it do your bidding, so what do you do?'

'You break its will and reduce it to the level of a cockroach. With men, you just flash your naked butt.'

'Exactly.' Anawak grinned. 'Because people and cockroaches aren't so very different.'

'Some people,' Oliviera corrected him.

'No, everyone. Free will's a wonderful thing, but it's only free until you flip a few switches. Like pain, for example.'

'So whoever made the jelly knows how a whale brain works,' said Fenwick. 'That's what you're saying, isn't it? That the substance stimulates specific neural centres.'

'Yes.'

'And to do that, you have to know which.'

'It's not too hard to find out,' said Oliviera. 'Think of John Lilly.'

'Exactly.' Anawak nodded. 'Lilly was the first to experiment with implanting electrodes in animal brains to stimulate pleasure or pain. He proved that by manipulating areas of the brain it's possible to cause an animal to feel pleasure, gratification, pain, anger or fear. That was with apes, remember, and apes are close to whales and dolphins in terms of complexity and intelligence. It worked. He could bring the animals under his control by using electrodes to trigger different sensations as punishment or reward. And that was back in the sixties.'

'Still, Fenwick's right,' said Ford. 'That's all well and good if you've got an ape on your operating-table and you can tinker around in its head. But the jelly must have entered through the ears or the jaw, and for that it would have to change shape. Even if you managed to get the stuff inside the brain, how could you be sure that it would redistribute itself correctly and then, um, press the right buttons?'

Anawak was convinced that the jelly inside the whales was doing just that, but he didn't have the faintest idea how. 'Maybe there aren't many buttons that need pressing,' he said. 'Maybe it's enough to-'

The door opened.

'Dr Oliviera?' A lab technician poked her head into the room. 'I'm sorry to disturb you but you're wanted in the containment lab. It's urgent.'

Oliviera looked at the others. 'This kind of thing never used to happen,' she said. 'Only a few weeks ago we could sit down comfortably and have a civilised conversation about all sorts of nonsense without anyone interrupting. Now I feel like I'm in a Bond film. Would Dr Oliviera please make her way immediately to the containment lab!' She got up and clapped her hands. 'OK then. Vamos, muchachos. Does anyone want to come? You won't get anywhere in this building without me anyway.'

BIOHAZARD CONTAINMENT FACILITY

Moments after the crabs had arrived, Johanson's helicopter touched down next to the institute. A lab technician accompanied him to the elevators. They descended two floors, got out and walked down a stark, neon-lit corridor. The technician opened a heavy door, and they entered a room filled with monitors. The biohazard sign above the steel door at the back was the only indication that death lurked beyond. Johanson spotted Roche, Anawak and Ford, talking quietly together. Oliviera and Fenwick were in conversation with Rubin and Vanderbilt. Rubin caught sight of Johanson and came over to shake hands. 'Never a dull moment, is there?' He gave a frenzied laugh.

'I suppose not.'

'We haven't had a chance to talk yet,' said Rubin. 'You must tell me about the worms. It's a shame we had to meet in such circumstances, but you can't say it's not thrilling… Have you heard the latest news?'

'I guess that's why I'm here.'

Rubin pointed to the steel door. 'Unbelievable, isn't it? These used to be storerooms, but the army had then turned them into a hermetically sealed laboratory. I know it sounds a bit makeshift, but there's nothing to worry about – the whole thing conforms to Biosafety Level 4. We can examine the organisms without putting anyone at risk.'

BSL-4 was the highest level of containment.

'Will you be joining us inside?' asked Johanson.

'It'll be me and Dr Oliviera.'

'I thought Roche was the expert on crustaceans.'

'Everyone's an expert on everything here.' Vanderbilt and Oliviera had joined them. The CIA agent smelt faintly of sweat. He thumped Johanson jovially on the shoulder. 'We picked our boffins very carefully – it takes a mix of flavours to make a good pizza. But Li's got a thing about you, Dr Johanson. I bet she can't stand letting you out of her sight. She'd love to know what's going on inside your head.' He guffawed. 'Unless it's something else she's after… What do you reckon?'

Johanson smiled distantly. 'Maybe you should ask her.'

'Oh, I have,' said Vanderbilt, serenely. 'I hate to disappoint you, but she's only interested in your brain. She thinks you know something.'

'Really? Like what?'

'You tell me.'

'I don't know anything.'

Vanderbilt looked at him disparagingly. 'No neat theory?'

'I thought yours was neat enough.'

'Well, so long as you haven't got any better ideas. And while you're in there, Dr Johanson, here's something for you to think about. We call it Gulf War Syndrome. Back in 1991, America kept her losses to a minimum on the ground in Kuwait, but guess what? Nearly a quarter of our veterans developed a weird bunch of symptoms. Looking back on it, their complaints were like a mild version of the damage caused by Pfiesteria - memory loss, concentration difficulties, damage to internal organs… We think they were exposed to some chemical. After all, our men were in the vicinity when the Iraqi weapons depots were blown up. At the time we suspected it was sarin, but maybe the Iraqis were developing a biological agent as well. Half the Islamic world has a stockpile of pathogens. It's not difficult to genetically modify harmless bacteria or viruses and turn them into killers.'

'And you think that's what's happened here?'

'I think you'd be well advised to open up to Auntie Li.' Vanderbilt winked. 'Between you and me, she's nuts. Capisce? And you should never get in the way of someone who's nuts.'

'She seems perfectly sane to me.'

'That's your problem. Don't say you weren't warned.'

^'My problem is that we still don't know what's going on,' said Oliviera, gesturing towards the door. 'It's time to get to work. Roche is coming too, of course.'