Part 33 (2/2)
”Slick itself? The nanoparticles are each incredibly small. Basically, they're molecular machines. Very tiny.”
”Why do the kidnappers want the actual nanoparticle?” Jo said. ”Why couldn't they steal the research data or smash a window and grab a hard drive that has all the information? Why do they need the actual product?”
Shepard ran a hand across his forehead. ”It's devilishly hard to duplicate the research and get Slick to grow correctly-it's like baking from scratch. When you bake, you need yeast as a catalyst. If the kidnappers obtain Slick, they can use the actual particle as a catalyst. Under correct conditions another lab could get it to replicate.”
”So this quant.i.ty is the seed supply?”
”Yes.”
Shepard killed the engine. They sat for several minutes, listening to the engine tick as it cooled. They could see nothing. Finally Shepard opened his door.
”Where are you going?” Jo said.
”I can't just sit here. I'm going stir-crazy. Come on.”
He closed the door and disappeared into the fog. Reluctantly, Jo followed.
The trees were shadows. The night was utterly quiet, close, and chilly. She hunched into her sweater, feeling how stiff her leg and ribs were growing. By the morning, she would be congealed into a solid bruise. A few hundred yards away, she knew, the park opened into a wide panorama. The de Young Museum was there somewhere, invisible, as was a huge outdoor music pavilion. She saw the slightest glow from the museum buildings.
Beyond the curving sidewalk the smell of pine and damp was thick. The paG.o.das of the j.a.panese Tea Garden, with their red lacquered wood and ornate black roofs, were lost to the mist.
Shepard stopped outside a heavy wooden portico. The gates were closed, the calming pathways of the garden locked up.
Jo lowered her voice. ”Alec, how do you neutralize Slick?”
”Acid immersion. It unravels the carbon nanotubes.”
”No other way? Burning? Freezing? Detox? Chemotherapy?”
”X-ray exposure, but only a sustained, high-power burst.” He gave her the briefest glance. ”Carbon nanotubes are resilient things.”
”Resilient machines that can get inside your head and reconfigure your brain.” h.e.l.l. ”Slick apparently spreads by direct contact with open wounds.”
”Yes. Blood-to-blood contact.” He turned his head sharply. ”You examined him?”
The gulp lodged again in her throat. ”Yes. But I avoided touching the lacerations on his arm, and I had no cuts or scratches myself.”
The air felt clammy. She fought a s.h.i.+ver.
Shepard's expression softened. ”You should be fine.”
The s.h.i.+ver sloughed off, and for a second the cold air felt refres.h.i.+ng. She closed her eyes and breathed out. She wanted to smile. Wanted to laugh out loud.
”Thanks.” She did smile, with relief. She breathed in again. ”Can Slick spread in any other ways?”
”Inhalation following an explosion. But of course, in an explosion, it would penetrate any blast wounds via shrapnel.”
”Inhalation puts fire and rescue crews at risk.” A vision of frightening emptiness pa.s.sed through her mind. An entire street of people whose thoughts would be harvested before they could become memories.
”If it comes to it, hope Slick blows up in somebody's office or car, not outside,” Shepard said.
”How much does it take to cause an explosion?”
”Two ounces would be more than enough.”
Her breath frosted the night. ”Presume Ian got it when he went to Africa. And that he's after you because he no longer has it in his possession.”
”Yes. He must have lost it.”
”Lost it? Or did he forget where it is?”
He turned to her. ”Yes. d.a.m.n. Where is it?”
”How would somebody transport it?”
”Slick is dispersed in an oily emulsion. It could be liquid.”
”Presume he brought it back from Africa. Would he have checked it in his luggage?”
”He would never have let it out of his sight. Not out of his immediate possession. Never.”
”So where did he get separated from the sample?”
She thought of every place he'd been. South Africa. London. The 747. The airport, the ambulance, the hospital. The city of San Francisco.
”If he had it with him when he boarded the flight from London, he would have kept it on his person or in his carry-on luggage,” she said.
”Without a doubt. If it's... oh, Ian.”
”Alec?”
”He doesn't know about proper handling protocols. He's trained in handling people. Not nanoparticles. Christ.”
Jo felt a chill rise through the air. Of course Kanan hadn't handled Slick properly. It seemed self-evident.
”If my conjecture's correct and your man Lesniak stole it from the South African lab-would he have known proper handling protocols?” she said.
”Yes. He's a materials technician. He worked with the stuff.” Shepard stuffed his hands in his pants pockets. ”That doesn't mean he did handle it properly. Who knows how he got it out of the lab and transported it.”
”What's scaring you?” Jo said.
”If Ian brought Slick back with him on the plane...”
”The cops and the paramedics went through his clothing. The cell phone was all they found.” She thought harder. ”His backpack had a laptop in it, I'm sure. But the cops said they didn't find alcohol or drugs-I didn't get a chance to go through his things.”
Shepard's voice turned weightless, like he had no breath with which to speak. ”Slick is in a liquid suspension. But with current security restrictions, Ian couldn't have brought a large container of liquid into the cabin of the plane. He would have disguised it.” He ran his hand over his forehead again. ”If he put it in any kind of plastic container... Slick can corrode it. Break the seal. Leak out.”
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