Ramirez stood in his office and stared at his copy of Neil’s suicide note and confession. He’d given the original to law enforcement, and by now the President himself might have read it. The F.B.I. and Homeland Security were over it like ants at a picnic, but they didn’t have much time, and the plot to spread the plague had dozens of participants. If even one of them succeeded, they were screwed. In a few days, containment would no longer be an option. They needed a cure.
“Mickey, is Chen’s cure at UCLA?”
“No, Trinley destroyed it. Christina and my girlfriend—her cousin—have what’s left. But she said it’s not ready, that somebody needs to work on it. She only took it with her because Trinley was being a dick.”
“He said your friends were trying to spread the petroplague. Is that true?”
“No, of course not. They’re just trying to get to San Diego. You know he has the police chasing Christina even though she didn’t do anything wrong.”
Ramirez gave Mickey a long, cold stare, waiting for him to squirm, but he didn’t.
“Anyway, Neil’s got the spreading part covered,” Mickey said.
“We must find your friends. Are they traveling on foot?”
“No, they have a car. The X-car from UCLA.”
“The what?”
Mickey explained. “It’s an experimental vehicle from Chen’s lab that runs on biodiesel—Trinley’s fuel. The one that’s not affected by the petroplague.”
“They should be stopped at the first containment ring. Can you call them?”
“I can try,” Mickey said, “but they’re keeping their phones off so the police can’t track the signals. River is supposed to turn hers on for a minute on the hour. We should be able to reach her then.”
“That’s almost half an hour from now,” Ramirez said, checking his watch. “You try calling her, and keep at it until you get through. I’ll see if my people can get any information from the border guards.”
#
“A green car matching the description of the experimental vehicle was turned back on the five at Sylmar,” Molton reported. “Two young women were inside. They did not get out and walk, but drove back toward the city. The guards believe the vehicle exited east on the two-ten.”
“So they’re going north,” Ramirez said. “Where do you suppose they went next?”
Molton shrugged. “I think it’s time to call and ask them.”
Ramirez nodded. “Do we have someone ready to track the phone’s signal in case she turns it on but doesn’t want to talk?”
“We do.”
They found Mickey dutifully pushing redial over and over without success. As the second hand on the wall clock ticked through its rotation, Ramirez started to sweat.
“Would we know if our people had a GPS lock?”
“Yes.”
Another minute passed, and a third. Mickey shook his head. River’s phone wasn’t receiving calls, and the technicians monitoring it declared that the phone had never been turned on.
“What now?” Ramirez said. “Mickey, any idea where they would’ve gone on the two-ten?”
“I don’t know, I thought they were making for San Diego.”
“Somebody pull up Google Maps for me.”
Mickey spoke up while the screen flickered. “The car’s pretty distinctive. I mean, not only is it the only thing moving out there, it’s neon green and has an advertising wrap all over it. If anyone saw it, they’d remember.”
“Jackson, get in touch with every person with a pair of eyes in the San Fernando area. Find out if they’ve seen this car.”
“Yes, sir. That’s the area of the Pacoima flood, sir.”
“I know. Let’s hope they weren’t caught in it.”
Ramirez paced back and forth, stroking his chin, ready to get out there himself on a bike or Segway to look for that car if he had to. Chen’s antibiotic was the only hope for Los Angeles. And if the eco-terrorist’s plan succeeded, the need would go far beyond this city.
“This X-car is very special, right?” he asked Mickey.
“Yeah.”
“And it’s owned by the university.”
“I think so.”
“If I were the owner of such a car, I’d be worried about someone stealing it.”
“We always were,” Mickey said. “I mean, when Christina got to use it on some weekends, we were kinda paranoid about where to park it and stuff.”
“If I owned such a car, such a valuable and attractive car, I’d have an anti-theft GPS tracking device installed.”
Mickey perked up. “You’re right. I would, too.”
“Molton, get the Chancellor of UCLA on the phone. We have to track that car.”