“So you dented the key to keep the virus from taking hold and spreading?”
She nodded. “More or less. I introduced a tiny error in the structure of the binding protein. In a lab, the virus appears effective.”
“So, it’s no good? They can’t use it to wipe out humanity?” Crusher asked.
Marta winced. “Viruses don’t work that way. You know how you get a flu shot every year?”
“I don’t,” he said. “But go on.”
“The serum is based on what they project to be the strain of the flu and the mutation they predict will be most prevalent. My point is, viruses mutate. They change, and the flu vaccine adjusts to handle the strain. The pathogen is a virus. It will mutate and find a way around the flaw in the binding protein. It would be only a matter of time before the virus spreads.”
Crusher’s brow dipped lower. “How much time?”
“My initial estimate is twenty-one days. But that’s just a guess. The virus might mutate faster and find a way to spread faster.”
“I take it, you couldn’t destroy the virus before we left?”
She shook her head. “Every day, they had me move samples of the virus into storage biorepositories, where the virus was then frozen using liquid nitrogen. They have the virus and can transport it in those biorepositories.”
“So, you’re telling me they can use the pathogen you created, but it might not spread for the first three weeks?”
She nodded.
“What does three weeks buy us?” he asked. “Did Vasquez have you create a vaccine or treatment for this virus to keep people from dying? Is that what he’s planning to hold over them to get what he wants?”
Marta’s heart squeezed hard in her chest. “That’s the whole reason I was studying this particular virus. I was looking for a cure, a vaccine, something to protect or lessen the ravages it does to the human body.”
Crusher shoved a hand through his hair. “Hemorrhagic virus. That’s like Ebola, right?”
She nodded. “It affects the vascular system and causes blood vessel leakage, coagulation dysfunction, severe external or internal bleeding and organ failure.”
“That’s some bad shit.”
“Extremely.” She pushed to her feet.
“When did he plan on deploying this virus?”
“I’m not certain. He was pushing for the product to be completed within the next two weeks.”
“Twenty-one days for the virus to mutate,” Crusher shook his head. “We might need help figuring out where and when he’ll release the pathogen. But first, we need help getting out of Colombia.” He pulled what looked like a walkie-talkie from a pocket of his cargo pants and extended the antenna.
“You have a radio?” Marta’s eyes widened. “Do you have people nearby?” Hope blossomed in her chest.
He shook his head and touched his fingers to the keys. “This is a satellite phone, not a radio. And no, I don’t have people close. That would’ve been the helicopter pilot who was supposed to get us to the plane that would’ve taken us out of the country.” He pressed a button on the phone, letting her hear the sound of ringing on the other end of the call.
A male voice answered. “Did you get the asset?”
Crusher’s gaze met Marta’s. “I did. The asset is sitting in front of me.”
“Hold on,” the male voice said. “I have another call coming in.”
Marta frowned. “I’m an asset?” She didn’t like how cold and impersonal that sounded. She was human, not an object.
“I’m back,” the first male voice sounded. “We’ve got another on the call.”
“You got the asset?” a second man’s voice sounded. The first one had been smooth and filled with authority, without being rude. The second voice had a little more gravel in the texture, like he might be a smoker. “Can I get a POL?”
“The boss wants proof of life.” Crusher held the satellite phone close to Marta. “Say something.”
