them to ask him for something more, something other than what he’d agreed to. Eventually they began to make threats. At one point they tried to take his daughter hostage to force his hand.”
Hawker glanced out the window. The Citation had begun to taxi.
“After that he promised them whatever they wanted and things calmed down for a while. I don’t know if he believed them or if he just wanted to use them as long as he could, but I almost had to put a gun to his head to get him to leave.”
“He’s known to be obsessive,” she said.
He nodded.
“Usually people like that have an ax to grind. Some perceived slight to avenge. Did you sense that at all?”
Hawker shook his head.
“Did he ever tell you what he was working on? Or at least hint at it?”
Hawker leaned back, a distant look in his eyes, as he tried to recall.
“He talked more about God than genetics,” Hawker said. “Wondered how any god could allow what was happening around the world. He seemed to cycle between atheism and fearing that God was punishing him for things he’d said and done. I remember him asking what a man like me thought about divine retribution.”
Knowing Hawker’s past, she understood why the question might matter. But the issue was Ranga.
“Do you think he’s capable of this?” she asked. “Not the construction of the virus—we assume that—but the use of it?”
Hawker took his time. “I know Interpol has him labeled as some public enemy–slash–mad scientist. I’ll give you the mad part, but the guy I knew could not be a mass murderer. On our run out of the Congo, he would not carry a weapon because he didn’t want to kill anyone.”
“People change,” she said.
“You asked me what I thought.”
“I did,” she replied.
“He was trying to get my help for a reason,” Hawker said. “Someone was hunting him. My guess is, whoever that was caught him and forced him to send the virus. I mean if you’re going to foist a plague on the world and send the letter anonymously, are you really going to be dumb enough to get your fingerprints all over it?”
It was a good point. And the fact that the UN letter had come through internal sources while Ranga Milan was three thousand miles away meant someone else was involved. But who?
Unfortunately, UN security was almost wholly focused on the perimeter. Few cameras or controls were allowedon the inside, so the diplomats could move and talk freely without fear of being recorded.
Across from her, Hawker leaned forward. Looking into her eyes, his intensity ratcheting up, he spoke.
“I honestly don’t know what the hell Ranga was doing. Either then or now. But I know he was basically a good man. I feel it. I saw it. Otherwise he would have just given the bastards in the Congo what they wanted. Or he would have given these people what they wanted instead of ending up dead.”
She paused, considering what he’d said and the force with which he’d said it. She knew he was leading up to something. She could guess what it was.
“You want to go after them?”
He nodded. “When this plane lands in Hamburg, I’m off the clock. I’m asking for whatever information you can share. But I can’t let this stand.”
“I understand how you feel,” she said. “I’m not surprised. But there’s a bigger issue.”
“You’re going to fight me on this?”
“No,” she said. “I’m going to help you. We—the NRI—we’re going to help you. It’s an odd coincidence, but Ambassador Gonzales was once an employee of the NRI, ten years ago. And as you’re now working with us, the powers that be have determined that we’re the appropriate agency to work this case. Back home we’re teaming with the CDC to study the virus, out here … out here we’ve been ordered to track down the players involved, if we can. That includes the people who killed your friend.”
Hawker sat back again, a look of concern on his face.
“You’d rather do it alone?” she
Hawker glanced out the window. The Citation had begun to taxi.
“After that he promised them whatever they wanted and things calmed down for a while. I don’t know if he believed them or if he just wanted to use them as long as he could, but I almost had to put a gun to his head to get him to leave.”
“He’s known to be obsessive,” she said.
He nodded.
“Usually people like that have an ax to grind. Some perceived slight to avenge. Did you sense that at all?”
Hawker shook his head.
“Did he ever tell you what he was working on? Or at least hint at it?”
Hawker leaned back, a distant look in his eyes, as he tried to recall.
“He talked more about God than genetics,” Hawker said. “Wondered how any god could allow what was happening around the world. He seemed to cycle between atheism and fearing that God was punishing him for things he’d said and done. I remember him asking what a man like me thought about divine retribution.”
Knowing Hawker’s past, she understood why the question might matter. But the issue was Ranga.
“Do you think he’s capable of this?” she asked. “Not the construction of the virus—we assume that—but the use of it?”
Hawker took his time. “I know Interpol has him labeled as some public enemy–slash–mad scientist. I’ll give you the mad part, but the guy I knew could not be a mass murderer. On our run out of the Congo, he would not carry a weapon because he didn’t want to kill anyone.”
“People change,” she said.
“You asked me what I thought.”
“I did,” she replied.
“He was trying to get my help for a reason,” Hawker said. “Someone was hunting him. My guess is, whoever that was caught him and forced him to send the virus. I mean if you’re going to foist a plague on the world and send the letter anonymously, are you really going to be dumb enough to get your fingerprints all over it?”
It was a good point. And the fact that the UN letter had come through internal sources while Ranga Milan was three thousand miles away meant someone else was involved. But who?
Unfortunately, UN security was almost wholly focused on the perimeter. Few cameras or controls were allowedon the inside, so the diplomats could move and talk freely without fear of being recorded.
Across from her, Hawker leaned forward. Looking into her eyes, his intensity ratcheting up, he spoke.
“I honestly don’t know what the hell Ranga was doing. Either then or now. But I know he was basically a good man. I feel it. I saw it. Otherwise he would have just given the bastards in the Congo what they wanted. Or he would have given these people what they wanted instead of ending up dead.”
She paused, considering what he’d said and the force with which he’d said it. She knew he was leading up to something. She could guess what it was.
“You want to go after them?”
He nodded. “When this plane lands in Hamburg, I’m off the clock. I’m asking for whatever information you can share. But I can’t let this stand.”
“I understand how you feel,” she said. “I’m not surprised. But there’s a bigger issue.”
“You’re going to fight me on this?”
“No,” she said. “I’m going to help you. We—the NRI—we’re going to help you. It’s an odd coincidence, but Ambassador Gonzales was once an employee of the NRI, ten years ago. And as you’re now working with us, the powers that be have determined that we’re the appropriate agency to work this case. Back home we’re teaming with the CDC to study the virus, out here … out here we’ve been ordered to track down the players involved, if we can. That includes the people who killed your friend.”
Hawker sat back again, a look of concern on his face.
“You’d rather do it alone?” she
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