While Justice Sleeps(82)

Avery struggled to keep her pleasant expression in place. Someone had taken Jared’s bait, and someone had tried to kill them. The question was who—and if they were one and the same. “Did they send you the location?”

“Yes.” He shifted his computer to give her a better view. A chat box had opened, and the cursor flashed imperiously. “Want to respond?”

“Sure.” Avery accepted the laptop, her pulse racing. Tentatively at first, her fingers hovered over the keyboard. Finally, she began to type.

    Hello?

Who are you?

Avery cast about for an alias. Cassandra. You?

In her office, Betty thought about all the nicknames from her childhood. Smiling to herself, she typed, Wilma.

Hi Wilma. What are you looking for?

Answers.

What are your questions?

Just curious about biogenetics and haplogroups.

Then we should talk.

Aren’t we already? No reason, Betty thought, to let on that she had no idea what the hell was going on. Nifty trick with the computer.

Magic. I’m trying to find my friend. Can you help?

Any connection to the FDA?

No. Why?

Have security clearance?

Avery tilted the screen for Jared to see. He silently motioned for her to keep asking questions. In another corner of the screen, red lights turned green as a program traced Wilma’s IP address. A few more minutes, and they’d know who had launched his hidden key and triggered the instant messaging service he’d set up last night.

But anyone looking for the computer Avery was writing from would find only a false address traveling through multiple virtual tunnels and pinging against users who’d accessed his security services. A handy skill taught by the Navy that he’d improved over time.

He whispered to Avery, “Keep her online. Nearly got her.”

She nodded, then responded, Is that necessary?

If you want me to talk to you.

Wait. Haplogroups and Hygeia and Advar. Interesting combination. You work for them?

Maybe. What do you know?

Avery decided to show one of her cards. Ani is gone. Do you know where he went?

Betty picked up one of the bio sheets on Hygeia. Ani Ramji had been their top scientist, but none of the articles mentioned what had happened to him in the acquisition. Not unusual in itself, but it made Betty scribble a note beside his name.

    We just spoke.

Really? Where?

India.

You don’t know where he is, do you? Avery smiled at the feint. Wilma didn’t trust her, and she didn’t trust Wilma. They were pushing pieces around the board, feeling each other out and avoiding engagement. A stalemate. She tried a new tack. Do you like science?

It’s my passion. You?

Not a scientist, but definitely want to learn more.

About what?

About biogenetic research in india. Planning to take a trip and look for a job. Hoped to meet Ani.

Screwing with my computer is a strange way of job hunting.

I’m very, very interested. Avery held her breath and decided to take a chance. What do you know about haplogroups?

Why?

Because Ani thought they were being used to hurt people. I want to know how.

Who are you?

A concerned citizen.

What do you know about Haplogroups?

I know they are genetic markers. Dangerous in the wrong minds.

And the wrong hands.

Weapons?

In her office, Betty stopped typing. On the corner of her desk was one of the handful of reports she’d managed to unearth related to the chromosomal research grants. Among the recognized goals of the S&T grants was investigation into uses of Y haplogroup research. The report had been redacted down to a handful of lines. Pages she’d never be allowed to read.

Nerves returned in force. She was breaking a dozen federal laws by using her government computer to chat with a stranger. So far, she hadn’t revealed any classified information, but her gut was starting to clench, a sure sign of trouble. One compounded by a dangerous icon that started a chat with someone who knew more than she did. Someone who knew about Y haplogroups and biogenetic research and weapons. The Science and Technology Directorate.

    Who are you? Betty typed.

An interested party, like you. Looking for TigrisLost. Hard to find.

I can’t help you. Must go.

Realizing she was about to lose her only lead, Avery tapped the screen where the trace continued. Jared held up three fingers, signaling he needed only a few more seconds.

I know about hygeia. About the research.

The cursor flashed emptily. Avery took a wild stab in the dark. I know about Advar and the Court.

What are you talking about?

GenWorks and Advar and Hygeia. Justice Wynn. They are connected. I can explain.

Avery waited, to see if Wilma would take the bait.

Tomorrow. Lincoln Memorial Museum. Blue columns. nine a.m. Red scarf. come alone.

The computer dinged as the chat abruptly ended. Avery looked up anxiously at Jared, who nodded. “Got her.”

Relieved, she passed the computer back to him and sighed. She’d meet Wilma at the Lincoln Memorial. She wasn’t sure which of them should wear the scarf, but she’d take the chance that it should be her.

While Avery watched silently, Jared called up his tracer program. The IP address had been encrypted, the encryption matrix one of the most sophisticated he’d ever encountered. But the sheer level of complexity ruled out all but a few sources, and a telltale protocol eliminated the rest of his suspects. Doing data security in DC, he’d learned to spot the fingerprints of government bodies. They were talented but predictable.