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“But hear me on this, Doctor,” interrupted the president, “a new executive order is forthcoming and that will be enforced. Failure to comply will be met with the harshest possible penalties.”
“I understand, sir.”
The president studied him for a long two-count. “Do you, Dr. Price?”
“I believe I do, Mr. President.”
“Then let’s get down to it. Samples of the pathogen are being sent to you by military courier. Even though you already have the original pathogen there, we now know that Dr. Herman Volker used a modified version. Volker said as much to his CIA handler when he called to alert us about what he’d done.”
“What about Dr. Volker? If the release of Lucifer was an accident, then surely he’d be eager to help us—”
“Herman Volker is dead,” the president said flatly.
“What?” gasped Price. “Was he infected?”
“He hung himself.”
“Oh no. That’s horrible.”
“Dr. Price, let’s not waste time weeping over a man responsible for the deaths of thousands of American citizens.”
Price straightened and cleared his face of expression. “Of course not, sir. It’s just that he could have helped us. Remodeling a weaponized pathogen is tricky work, and even though it can result in something as apparently unstoppable as Lucifer, there are often chinks in the armor, so to speak.”
“What kind of chinks?”
“Intentional vulnerabilities left by the designers so that they are not as vulnerable to the pathogen as, say, their enemies. Or, in some cases, design flaws that can be exploited to create a counteragent or some prophylactic measure.”
The president brightened. “Are you sure?”
“Sure? No, sir.”
“What will make you sure?”
Price considered. “One of two things offer the best chance of that. The first will be an examination of the Lucifer 113 samples being sent to us. We’ll learn a lot by comparing it to the most recent version of Lucifer that we have.”
“That’s going to take time, though,” suggested the president.
“We can work pretty fast when—”
“Skip the sales pitch. What’s the other chance?”
“Looking at Volker’s research notes. Do we know where they are?”
“There are no records in his office at the prison where he worked. The hard drives have been completely wiped and degaussed.”
“Everything?” asked Price, aghast that any scientist would do that to his own work. “He kept no backups?”
“He did,” said the president. “All of his research was copied to a set of flash drives.”
“That’s terrif—”
“Which we do not have.”
Price had to bite back a curse. “Is anything being done to obtain those drives?”
“Of course,” said the president. “However, since we have no guarantee of that happening right away, we need to move forward with what we have. Is there anything you can tell me about Lucifer based on what you’ve so far been told about the current crisis?”
Price nodded. “I believe so, sir. I reviewed some field reports from a doctor attached to the National Guard. If the reports are accurate then there are marked differences between the current strain and the samples we were initially given here.”
