“Fuck, Mik. Why doyougo in there?”
“Because it’s my job. And because I know how to properly treat the samples. I wear a full face shield, gloves, and only work under a fume hood. We keep Atropine on hand just in case, but even that’s not guaranteed to be a hundred percent effective. The room’s kept at negative pressure, so nothing escapes, and we have a giant filtration system on the roof.”
Peering through the thick glass window, I frown. “There’s the sample box Howard told me about. We never use plain brown cardboard. And there are no warning labels that I can see. Wait here. I’m going inside.”
Austin snags an arm around my waist. “I’ll suit up. Wear whatever you need me to wear. But I’m going in with you. And I’m opening that box.”
“Austin.”
“I mean it.Nothingabout this feels right to me. You told me all of the shipments were packaged up under your supervision. No one ever deviated from proper procedure. Until now. What if there’s a bomb in there?” He’s in full protective mode again, his shoulders straight and rigid, like he’s right back in the Air Force commanding his—battalion? troops? squad?—whatever a group of Air Force men and women are called.
Making a mental note to ask him later, I relent. “We scan for explosive material. Everything that comes into this building goes through an X-ray. But you’re right. There could be other dangers in there. So you can come. But this is one time you do exactly whatIsay. Got it?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He gives me a curt nod and follows me into the decontamination chamber directly outside the lab.
Once we’ve suited up in thin, plastic bodysuits, masks, booties, gloves, and face shields, I enter the code for the lab. The light’s green, so no contaminants have been detected in the air, but Austin’s right. This is highly irregular, and IknowI didn’t authorize this shipment.
“Just in case,” I say, wrapping my gloved fingers around his wrist, “the Atropine is in the top left cabinet. It’s an auto-injector. Jab the needle into the outside of the thigh and depress the plunger. Got it?
“Got it.” He moves the box under the vent hood, and I hand him a small scalpel so he can break the seal. So far, everything’s normal.
“If there’s any particular matter loose in there, the light over the hood will turn yellow. If it’s a known toxin, it’ll turn red. If so, back away.”
“Understood,” he says as he slides the blade over the taped seams. Carefully, like he’s handling nuclear waste, he pulls the lid from the box and sets it upside down under the hood. “Looks…relatively normal to me. Sample boxes, like the ones you had in your backpack when I found you.”
“Okay. Step back.” Slowly, I reach in and pull out one of six cases. Each has twelve samples inside. Leaves and roots from the Blushing Note orchids, dirt, grass, and moss from the surrounding area. One by one, I remove them, and when they’re all spread out on the metal surface, I frown. Not that Austin can see it under my mask.
“Wait. What’s in that compartment?” he asks, pointing to the fourth case.
The plastic cover isn’t completely clear, but whatever’s inside is definitely not organic. It’s metal. Defined edges. Almost oblong. I reach for the lid, but Austin stops me, his gloved fingers curling around my wrist.
“Let me.”
“No. Not this time. I need to be the one to break the seal.” Picking up the scalpel, I pierce the tape sealing the single compartment’s cover.
As soon as I open it, the light over the fume hood turns red. Austin tenses, but I hold up my hand. “It’s all right. We’re protected. That hood is rated for anthrax-level contaminants. The Blushing Note phytotoxin isn’t quite that lethal. Close, but not quite. And the particles are bigger. We’ll be fine.”
“I don’t like this.”
“Tough. This is my job, Austin. Let me do it.” I nudge him out of the way, and to my surprise, he steps back.
“It’s…a USB drive.” I take a pair of forceps and pick it up, holding it as close to the vents as I can but still see it. A gray dust mars the shiny surface. Setting the drive down, I reach for a small vial half-full of blue reagent and a cotton swab. In a move I’ve done hundreds, if not thousands of times, I drag the cotton tip over the drive, collecting some of the dust, then flip the cap on the vial and drop the swab inside.
A little shake, and the solution turns green. But it’s not the right color green. “That’s odd.”
“What?” Austin’s on edge again, and I shoot him a look that hopefully sayscalm down, now.
“This tests for presence of the Blushing Note phytotoxin. But it should be a much lighter green. Closer to lime than emerald.” Opening two more of the sample compartments, I examine their contents. With a freshly sterilized pair of forceps, I pick up a leaf sample. “I need to run some more tests, but I don’t think this is the Blushing Note. Crap on a cracker. Corey said he created a hybrid. A plant that was almost identical, but hardier. One that could grow outside of the narrow altitude band the Blushing Note is restricted to. What if this is it?”
“I don’t understand. Why would it matter?” he asks.
“Because we didn’t sample any of the hybrid plants. There’s only one person who could have possibly sent this.” Turning to Austin, I wait for him to make the connection.
When he does, his eyes harden, the hazel orbs darkening and his brows drawing together. “Corey. Which means this USB drive is from him too.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Austin
