Impressive.

Her opponent had certainly thought ahead.

VINCENTI CHECKED HIS WATCH. HE SHOULD HAVE HEARD FROM O’Conner by now. The phone affixed to the wall provided a direct line upstairs. He’d resisted calling, not wanting to reveal himself. They’d been ensconced here now pushing three hours and he was starving, though his gut churned more from anxiety than hunger.

He’d occupied the time securing data on the lab’s two computers. He’d also brought to a conclusion a couple of experiments that he and Lyndsey had been running to verify that the archaea could be safely stored at room temperature, at least for the few months needed between production and sale. Concentrating on the experiments had helped with Lyndsey’s apprehension, but Walde remained agitated.

“Flush everything,” he said to Lyndsey. “All the liquids. The keeping solutions. Samples. Leave nothing.”

“What are you doing?” Karyn asked.

He didn’t feel like arguing with her. “We don’t need them.”

She rose from the chair where she’d been seated. “What about my treatment? Did you give me enough? Am I cured?”

“We’ll know tomorrow or the next day.”

“And if I’m not? What then?”

He appraised her with a calculating look. “You’re awful demanding for a woman who was dying.”

“Answer me. Am I cured?”

He ignored her question and concentrated on the computer screen. A few flicks of the mouse and he copied all of its data onto a flash drive. He then enabled the hard drive’s encryption.

Karyn grabbed his shirt. “You’re the one who came to me. You wanted my help. You wanted Irina. You gave me hope. Don’t let me hang.”

This woman may prove more trouble than she was worth. But he decided to be conciliatory. “We can make more,” he calmly said. “It’s easy. And if we need to, we can take you where the bacteria live and let you drink them. They work that way, too.”

But his assurance did not seem to satisfy her.

“You lying son of a bitch.” She released her hold. “I can’t believe I’m in this mess.”

Neither could he. But it was too late now.

“Everything done?” he asked Lyndsey.

The man nodded.

Glass shattering caught Vincenti’s attention. He turned to see Karyn holding the jagged remains of a flask and lunging toward him. She brought the improvised dagger close to his belly and stopped, her eyes alive with fire. “I need to know. Am I cured?”

“Answer her,” a new voice said.

He turned toward the lab’s exit.

Irina Zovastina stood in the doorway, with a gun. “Is she cured, Enrico?”

EIGHTY-ONE

MALONE SPOTTED A HOUSE ABOUT TWO MILES AWAY. VIKTOR HAD flown them in from the north, after veering east and skirting the Chinese border. He assessed the structure and estimated forty or so thousand square feet spread over three levels. They faced its rear, the front overlooking a valley that scooped a cul-de-sac out of the mountains on three sides. The house seemed to have been situated intentionally on a flat, rocky hillock overlooking the broad plain. Scaffolding wrapped one side where, it appeared, masons had been working. He noticed a sand pile and a mortar mixer. Beyond the promontory, iron fencing was being erected, some already standing, more stacked nearby. No workers. No security. Nobody in sight.

A six-bay garage stood off to one side, the doors closed. A garden that showed evidence of careful tending sprouted between a terrace and the beginnings of a grove that ended at the base of one of the rising peaks. The trees sprouted brassy new spring leaves.

“Who owns that house?” Malone asked.

“I have no idea. The last time I was here, maybe two or three years ago, it wasn’t there.”

“Is this the place?” Cassiopeia asked, looking out over his shoulder.

“This is Arima.”

“Damn quiet down there,” Malone said.

“The mountains shielded our approach,” Viktor pointed out. “Radar’s clean. We’re alone.”

Malone noticed a defined trail that routed through a bushy grove, then worked a path up the rocky incline, disappearing into a shadowy cleft. He also saw what looked like a power conduit marching up the rock waste, parallel to the trail, fastened close to the ground. “Looks like somebody is interested in that mountain.”

“I saw that, too,” Cassiopeia said.

He said, “We need to find out who owns this place. But we also need to be prepared.” He still carried the gun that he’d brought with him into the country. But he’d used a few rounds. “You have weapons on board?”

Viktor nodded. “The cabinet in back.”

He looked at Cassiopeia. “Get us each one.”

ZOVASTINA ENJOYED THE SHOCK ON BOTH LYNDSEY AND VINCENTI’S faces. “Did you think me that stupid?”

“Damn you, Irina,” Karyn said.

“That’s enough.” Zovastina leveled her gun.

Karyn hesitated at the challenge, then retreated to the far side of one of the tables. Zovastina turned her attention back to Vincenti. “I warned you about the Americans. Told you they were watching. And this is how you show your gratitude?”

“You expect me to believe that? If it wasn’t for the antiagents, you’d have killed me long ago.”

“You and your League wanted a haven. I gave you one. You wanted financial freedom. You have it. You wanted land, markets, ways to clean your dirty money. I gave you all those. But that wasn’t enough, was it?”

Vincenti stared back at her, seemingly keeping a tight grip on his own expression.

“You apparently have a different agenda. Something, I assume, not even your League knows about. Something that involves Karyn.” She fully realized Vincenti would never admit any allegations. But Lyndsey. He was another matter. So she focused on him. “And you’re a part of this, too.”

The scientist watched her with undisguised terror.

“Get out of here, Irina,” Karyn said. “Leave him be. Leave them both be. They’re doing great things.”

Bewilderment attacked her. “Great things?”

“He’s cured me, Irina. Not you. Him. He cured me.”

Her curiosity rose as she sensed that Karyn may provide the information she lacked. “HIV is not curable.”

Karyn laughed. “That’s your problem, Irina. You think nothing is possible without you. The great Achilles on a hero’s journey to save his beloved. That’s you. A fantasy world that exists only in your mind.”

Her neck tensed and the hand that held the gun stiffened.

“I’m not some epic poem,” Karyn said. “This is real. It’s not about Homer or the Greeks or Alexander. It’s about life and death. My life. My death. And this man,” she clutched Vincenti by the arm, “this man has cured me.”

“What nonsense have you told her?” she asked Vincenti.

“Nonsense?” Karyn shot back. “He found it. The cure. One dose and I haven’t felt this good in years.”

What had Vincenti discovered?

“Don’t you see, Irina?” Karyn said. “You did nothing. He did it all. He has the cure.”

She stared at Karyn. A bundle of raw energy. A tangle of emotions. “Do you have any idea what I did to try and save you? The chances I took. You came back to me in need, and I helped you.”

“You did nothing for me. Only for yourself. You watched me suffer, you wanted me to die-”

“Modern medicine had nothing to offer. I was trying to find something that might help. You ungrateful whore.” Her voice rose with indignation.

Sadness clouded Karyn’s face. “You don’t get it, do you? You never got it. A possession. That’s all I was to you, Irina. Something you could control. That’s why I cheated on you. Why I sought other women, and men. To show you that I couldn’t be dominated. You never got it and still don’t.”