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“Maybe, except a witness came forward and said a Caucasian male had been asking for directions to the village. The WHO doctors at the site said they’ve never seen any type of virus like this one before. They said it’s unheard of for a disease that takes effect so quickly and violently to stay contained within one tribe.”
“So the question is, what’s the nature of that particular tribe—that it only affected them and no one else?” Grace asked.
“Bingo,” Gabe said with a nod. “The Ahnimado tribe prides themselves on being pureblood. They’re a tribe of less than a hundred people who all share the same genes. Marriages must take place within the family, and no outsiders are allowed in their village.”
Grace took the iPad from Jack and looked at the pictures. “So if we assume whoever made this batch of the Passover Project used a specific Ahnimado’s DNA as a test for the weapon, then we can also assume that they’re getting closer to finding the formula. The Ahnimado have all fallen ill because they share common DNA linked to their pureblood lineage.”
Gabe nodded and said, “The virus doesn’t seem to be contagious, and the doctor said they didn’t have much hope for the remaining survivors. It’s as if they’d all been purposely wiped out.”
“Did the witness give an ID of the man?” Jack asked.
“I’ve just put Logan on a plane to go find out. He’s going to check out the site in person and see if there are any survivors who are able to speak.” Gabe turned to Ethan. “Is there progress on the museum?”
“Jack has some ideas,” Ethan said, shrugging. “I just build the incredible machines. Someone else does all the real work.”
Jack rolled his eyes. “We’ve got the basics, but I’ll feel better about it after I contact some people. The kid has the design of the structure right, and we could get in and out if that was all there was to it. It’s the nonelectronic aspects that are going to give us the most trouble. Bullets beat machines any day.”
“Let me know if you need any help,” Gabe said, gathering his things and heading for the door. “Grace, I need to speak to you a moment.”
Grace followed Gabe reluctantly into the hallway, aware that two curious stares followed them out. She closed the door behind her and leaned back against it, crossing her arms over her chest and mentally preparing for Gabe to bring up what happened between them earlier that morning.
“I have a contact who said Tussad is visiting his sister in Abadan.”
Grace straightened from the wall, the news not what she’d been expecting. “What? How long has he been there? How did you find out so fast? I’ve paid contacts near there to let me know as soon as he steps foot on Iranian soil. Why wasn’t I contacted?”
“We both know that what you’re paying your contacts can be beaten. It’s why you agreed to this deal in the first place. My pockets are deeper than yours. Besides, I’ve had all your communications intercepted since you’ve been here.”
Rage spread from somewhere inside of her and flushed up her neck and face. “What the—”
“You work for me now, Grace. You agreed. No outside jobs. I gave you my word we’d get Tussad. I’m delivering.”
“You can’t cut me off from my contacts completely. I won’t be here working for you forever.”
“Maybe not, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” He waited her out while she fumed silently. There was no way he was going to let her go back to the life she’d been living the last two years. Not even the most hardened criminals lasted long in that kind of work.
“Fine,” she said stiffly. “Tell me about Tussad.”
“He’s been in Abadan since early yesterday morning. It’s up to you if you want to try and flush him out now or wait until later.”
Gabe’s face was unreadable as he waited for her to make a decision.
“Does your contact think he’ll still be there by the time we can fly in?” she asked.
“According to my contact, Tussad is there for the three-day birthday celebration of his mother. He’ll be there at least another twenty-four hours.”
Grace nodded and swiped her card in the elevator. “Then we don’t have a moment to spare. I assume you have a weapons room in this monstrosity?”
“You could say that.”
“Good. When do we leave?”
ChapterSeven
Washington, DC
Deckard Sloane had just sat down to breakfast on his private terrace when his butler tapped gently on the door.
“Excuse me, sir. There’s a Mr. Shawn Kimball at the door. He’s quite insistent on seeing you, though he’s not on your list of callers for the day. He said you’d want to hear what he has to say. Should I send him away?”
