“It is believed that if we can facilitate the widespread distribution of penicillin, we would have the ability to save the lives of many of our wounded soldiers, allowing them to heal from infections. I was tasked with locating a missing member of the government—a scientific coordinator who intended to make an agreement with the MRC.”
“What’s the MRC?” Juliette asked.
“Medical Research Council,” Andrew and Isla said in unison.
“Oh, okay ...” Juliette huffed, part annoyed, part amused at her two friends. “See? Geniuses,” she added, glancing at Edmund.
“Right, yes, well ...” The detective rubbed the back of his neck. “This government official wanted to broker the MRC’s trust to allow international partnerships in the development of penicillin. The MRC oversees wartime research funding, and he was negotiating to get them to give the official government green light for international collaboration.”
“And did you find him?” Andrew asked.
“Yes. He was found dead—struck by lightning.”
“That’s not a common occurrence here in the UK,” Isla said slowly, “but not impossible.”
“You are correct—but the day of his death, there were no storms. No meteorological explanation,” Edmund said, his voice low. “This was foul play. A clear sign of Aetheric Arts interference.”
“Whoever did it doesn’t sound particularly smart. Why not at least wait for a rainy day to kill someone with lightning?” Andrew said.
Edmund grunted an agreement. “The Aetherian who did it definitely wasn’t the brightest, but I get the feeling whoever is running the operation is.”
“Recently, a diplomat from the British embassy with connections to Washington, DC decided it was time to retire and step away from the work he loved—though I suspect the decision wasn’t entirely his own. He was young and enthusiastic, wanting to devote his life to science, to add his weight to this mission ... yet now it seemed as if all that passion meant nothing to him.”
“You think he was emotionally manipulated?” Juliette asked.
“I do. Even with pressure from the government, he will not resume his work. He had a scientific attaché in Washington to help coordinate meetings between the UK team and the USDA,” Edmund went on.
“The US Department of Agriculture,” Isla murmured to Juliette, who huffed but gave a small nod.
“Exactly,” Edmund confirmed. “He was meant to work with the USDA and the War Production Board, asking the Americans to collaborate with the UK in this effort—to save thousands of lives.”
“I still don’t see the link,” Andrew said.
“I’m beginning to,” Isla replied. “Ray ... Though I don’t know all the details of his work, I know some. He was a biochemist and key process engineer. He told me he hoped to demonstrate how penicillin could be purified and fermented at scale.”
“He achieved it,” Edmund said. “Though I don’t understand science the way you do, Isla, it seems he created a technique that works. The UK hoped that US pharmaceutical companies would adopt it to speed up production.”
“I see,” Isla said, feeling a deep pang of grief for a man who simply wanted to help others.
“Before your report came in, I had been planning to travel to York anyway,” Edmund continued. “A leader of the Oxford team—someone with political connections—was planning to visit Ray to discuss traveling together to the United States, hoping they could collaborate with American scientists and pharmaceutical firms to scale up penicillin production. He’s scheduled to arrive tomorrow, and I haven’t been able to get hold of him to inform him of Ray’s death.”
Juliette leaned forward. “So it would seem deaths have been caused by an Ignis Summoner, who killed Ray, and a Ventus Summoner, who killed your government official by summoning lightning. Plus a Ventus Summoner who manipulated the emotions of the British diplomat. If they are all targeting officials and scientists connected to penicillin, then it seems this man visiting from Oxford is not safe.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Edmund agreed.
“But why haveIbeen attacked?” Isla asked, her voice tight. “I’m not connected to the penicillin research.”
Andrew moved closer, settling on the edge of her bed. She glanced at him. His body leaned slightly against her blanket-wrapped form, though she didn’t think he was doing it consciously, as his eyes stayed focused on Edmund. She was torn between wanting to pull away and feeling secretly grateful for his proximity. She looked away, back at Edmund.
The detective’s sharp eyes studied her closely. “That’s where I’m confused. It’s clear someone wants you dead. Two attacks on your life in such a short time make it a targeted effort. If you have no natural enemies”—she shook her head—“then I suspect whoever is behind this believes you know more about the penicillin efforts than you actually do. Or perhaps they think you’ve seen something that could give them away.”
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. “Your working relationship with Ray seems to have placed you squarely in the middle of an organized crime. An Aqua Summoner came at you today. That’s three of the four Aetheric Arts users apparently working together to stop something that could change the course of medicine. I’m afraid, Isla ... you’re in the deep end of it, even if you don’t know why.”
Isla bit her bottom lip, gnawing on it. “Could it be because I have recently become a Terra Summoner? Though I don’t understand my limitations, I can apparently heal others. Could I replace the need for penicillin?”
Andrew shook his head, his gaze now fixed on her, and she leaned away from him a little in her bundle of blankets. He noticed and shifted away, giving her some space, though he didn’t stand.
“No. There are so few Terra Summoners in the world, there’s no way you could reach enough people to make that kind of impact. And you must be touching someone to heal them. Your gifts are remarkable,” he added, his eyes softening as they swept over her features, “but they could never replicate the lifesaving effects penicillin could achieve for the wounded.”
