32 

2030

The encounter with his father left him sweaty and feeling vaguely filthy, like he’d been contaminated. He’d showered in water as hot as he could stand. Now, naked, moisture wicking away from his skin and his cat rumbling against his bare thighs, Gabriel sat before his computer, watching as Limyanovich’s revised files popped up on his screen. Ah, and so what had Amanda found . . . oh, this was interesting. The DNA was being repeated, just as he’d hoped but—he frowned—something was wrong. Something was definitely wrong.

He reread the files twice then sat back in his chair as he worried the information. Amanda had taken the amplified DNA from PCR and run a gel. But if he’d really ruined the PCR ahead of time, she’d have noticed. But Limyanovich’s DNA looked as if it had survived the temperatures to which he’d exposed it. If he was reading this right, there was an anomalous peak: DNA that didn’t correspond to anything. Then it hit him.

Something hidden in Limyanovich . . . in more than one place.

He picked up his sat-link, said the number and waited for the connection.

“Yes?” said the Handler.

“It just hit me,” he said. “Limyanovich’s cover was Poly Tech, right? So what if this data isn’t in a crystal at all? What if it’s encoded in Limyanovich’s DNA?”

“Explain to me this PCR.” The Handler was silent as he rattled off the information. When he was done, the Handler said, “And you are saying that additional DNA . . .”

“Might interfere with the primers, yes. There’s some anomaly, some difference in Limyanovich’s DNA that Slade doesn’t understand.” When the Handler didn’t respond, he added, “You have to admit, that would be right in keeping with their mentality.”

“Yes, I agree. The problem is the deviation from pattern. All previous information transfers were via data crystal. On the other hand, couriering information in DNA would be like taking out an advertisement, yes? Doing so would alert anyone who managed to capture one of their operatives exactly where to look. For all we know, this is precisely what they wish us to think.”

“But we could be wrong. We’ve been so focused on getting the three crystals that we’ve overlooked the fact that the enemy might have adapted.”

“True. Even if you are right, what do you propose?”

“We have two choices: steal some DNA ourselves, or let Slade do the heavy lifting. You can bet she’ll sequence this stuff. When she does, I’ll have it and then I can apply the information to what we have from the crystals.”

“And if the DNA is nothing but garbage?”

“It won’t be. It’s something.”

“We shall see. So what are your plans? With the boys?” The scratch of a match and then a quick inhale as the Handler lit up. “Although now anything you do is more complicated. There is this new person in town, someone from the legate’s office.”

“Yes. You think they’re . . . ?”

“Trying to ferret us out? I would say that is an excellent surmise. We will have to wait and see if this operative initiates contact.”

“Mmmm.” Gabriel nibbled on his lower lip. Destroying Limyanovich’s car in such a spectacular fashion had been a calculated risk designed to attract attention, and that seemed to have worked because, now, there was this woman from the legate’s office, this Dani Kodza. “One kid dying, I can make that go away. The other one, Noah . . . he’ll be harder. We want the police to go away, not stick around. If Troy dies, I can make that look like an accident. Noah, I can’t.”

“Agreed,” the Handler said. “Just so long as this spy Kodza does not walk away with our prize. I am certain this is why she is so intent upon reclaiming the body.”

“Then I’ll have to get moving on that. Tomorrow night. First, I do the kid. Slade is redoing the test, so I’ve got time.” Then he had a thought. “What if Slade finds the crystal first?”

The Handler laughed then: a rattling, phlegmy, smoker’s hack. “You really need to ask?”