Emily and Jeffrey Wright met in graduate school in a neuro-biology class while working toward master’s degrees in neuroscience. By 2042, they earned PhDs in the field as well. They got married just before they went to work for Lionel Labs, a genetic research laboratory in Columbia, Maryland.

Their marriage surprised friends because Emily, who had done some modeling during her undergraduate years, was eight inches taller than Jeffrey. She was beautiful. Jeffrey made up for his pedestrian looks with a sharp intellect. Emily fell hard for him.  

They were very serious about their work. When it came to research, they preferred to collaborate rather than compete with each other, a sure sign of the strength of their relationship. Both Emily and Jeffrey were blessed with high IQs. In fact, their IQs were identical at 156. They were both fascinated by intelligence, its source, why some people were more intelligent than others and whether something could be done about it.

Scientists had already enhanced certain genes that eliminated many cancers. Modified genes, even synthetic genes, were improving athletic ability as well. Geneticists were making progress in many areas, but genetically improving intelligence was a harder task. Very few foundations were funding this type of research, partly due to the strong objections of religious leaders, but more so because the science of intelligence was proving to be daunting. Intelligence was not the province of a single gene. And while IQ was certainly a measure of intelligence, there was no consensus about the causes, or even nature of intelligence. 

When Lionel Labs offered the Wrights research positions only ten days after they successfully completed their PhDs, they were thrilled by their good fortune. Had they known they were entering a high stakes drama that would threaten to hideously compromise their work and put their safety at risk, they would not have felt so fortunate. 

The couple were delighted when Jason Gerard, the tall, thin, Lionel Labs CEO, told them they would report to Bruce Feldman, the lab’s medical director and an eminent neurosurgeon. They were assigned to work on the genetics of IQ. Dr. Feldman made things clear. They would be expected to develop a breakthrough. Lionel Labs was the beneficiary of nearly a billion dollars specifically for this purpose. The money was donated by Dylan Ramos, a heavyset entrepreneur, turned philanthropist. He was also well-known for his exotic views about cultural matters.  

The couple worked diligently on the project for six years, achieving results well ahead of schedule. With the help of a small, but highly skilled staff, they developed a theory. They believed that by using a recently developed, advanced functional MRI technology, they could isolate the genes responsible for intelligence.  First, they identified and mapped the intelligence genes. Then they developed a technique that would allow a neurosurgeon to enhance these genes using a combination of micro-surgery and a drug cocktail. Their work was moving along at a good, but cautious, pace. Now they wanted to test what they learned. The next step was finding acceptable human subjects, in this case children, who had scored low on IQ tests. They wanted to treat them using the protocol they had developed. Computer simulations were promising. But there was a major problem. America and other parts of the world had a long, sad history of human experimentation gone wrong.

Experiments conducted in the name of science beginning in the 1930s had left a notorious mark. During the Second World War, the Nazis did many despicable things to people they had interred in the concentration camps. 

Beginning in the 1930s, the US Public Health Service worked with the Tuskegee Institute to study the natural progression of untreated syphilis in poor black men and women, dooming them to medical misery and premature death. The research continued for many years, even after it was learned that the disease could be cured by Penicillin.

Then in the 1950s, the CIA sponsored a program where people were unknowingly given LSD so they could study the effects of the drug. That these experiments had been conducted one hundred years ago didn’t matter. They continued to serve as a cautionary tale that the Wrights in particular, respected.  Exposing children to a treatment that, even if medically successful, might not serve to improve their lives was worrisome to the Wrights and others.  

But Emily and Jeffrey were convinced it was worth the risk. That the alternative, if nothing was done, could be much worse, both for lower IQ people and society as a whole. They knew, for example, that genetics accounts for as much as 80% of a person’s IQ. The rest is based on environmental factors. They knew as well, based on many studies they had read, that education alone could not raise IQ in any significant way.

On a rainy Thursday afternoon in October, Mr. Gerard and Dr. Feldman, called a meeting with the couple. The conference room was plush, with indirect lighting and television monitors on all four walls. Jason Gerard started the meeting. “Doctors, I called this meeting so we could chart an appropriate course for your project going forward.”

Jeffrey said, “Gentlemen, Emily and I believe we are on the right path. We need your approval to move forward with the clinical trials.”

Mr. Gerard cleared his throat and said, “While much of what we do at Lionel Labs requires us to take risks, we feel your proposal is too risky.”

“We’ve done extensive preliminary testing on this. I dare say more than has ever been done before,” Jeffrey said. “Gentlemen, the process isn’t risk free, but we believe the risk is low.”

“It would be roughly equivalent to the risk of taking a measles vaccine,” Emily added. 

Jason Gerard tapped his electric pen on his tablet. “Yes, I’ve seen your test results. Very impressive, but how do we know we won’t be accidentally creating psychopaths? Can you assure us otherwise?”

“That’s highly unlikely Mr. Gerard. We wouldn’t dream of proposing human testing if we thought that was even remotely possible,” Jeffrey said. “But, we think there are far greater risks if we don’t proceed. In the US alone about 105 million people, fully 25% on the nation’s population, has an IQ of 90 or below. What’s to become of these people?”

Doctor Feldman was not only a neurologist. He also had a PhD in neuroscience. He enjoyed an old fashioned professorial look, sporting a carefully trimmed beard and wire frame eyeglasses worn strictly for fashion. No one actually needed corrective lenses anymore. He gave Jeffrey’s point some thought before responding. “I’ll overlook the fact that you presume to instruct me. I am well aware of these things. I have even written about them long before your arrival here.” The doctor took a sip of herbal tea. “However, let’s assume for a moment that your theories are correct. That the future is bleak for those with lower intelligence. Let us further assume that your solution will work. As I understand it, your intention is to perform the necessary procedures as soon as a child’s IQ can be ascertained, correct?”

“Yes, that is correct,” Emily said. “At approximately five years of age, as you know, of course.”

The doctor doodled on the pad in front of him for a moment. “Let’s see, this is 2048. Two years from now there will be approximately 30 million children between newborn and five years of age in the US. If we assume that roughly one quarter of that population struggles with low IQ, are you proposing to perform this procedure on 7.5 million children? He asked. Then, for emphasis he added, “To say nothing of the rest of the world.”

“Yes, the numbers are staggering Doctor,” Jeffrey said. “But we are not trying to cure low IQ immediately. Perhaps I should have been more specific. Initially, we believe we can help those who are severely shortchanged; allow them to live productive lives.”   

“You have a specific range in mind then?”  Mr. Gerard asked.

The couple looked at each other. “Yes,” Emily said. Children who fall in the 70 to 79 IQ range would be our initial target. They account for a much smaller portion of the disadvantaged population.”

“Even at that you can’t hope to find enough qualified neurosurgeons, the necessary equipment, facilities and, dare I say, the money for such an undertaking,” Doctor Feldman said.

“Doctor, I’m quite surprised by your response. I am confident that we made our intentions clear as soon as we put forth our theories.” Emily said. “We are talking about a first generation protocol. Advancements are certain to occur. Once we demonstrate that IQ can be enhanced, certainly more money will become available for further research.” 

Mr. Gerard sat rapidly making calculations on his tablet. “Let’s all understand something right now. I went to bat for you with the board of directors because I believed your research would get results, admittedly, not entirely along these lines.” The CEO paused to give his words maximum effect. “While I’m sure we can all agree that a so-called cure for low IQ would be a Nobel Prize worthy achievement, your solution, even if it works, is impractical.”

Jeffrey stood and started pacing. Emily could see he was about to lose his temper. “Sit down Jeffrey,” she said. “Mr. Gerard, we have submitted regular progress reports, followed every protocol. Our proposal to seek human subjects as the next step in our research is completely within the guidelines of this type of research.” She gestured toward Jeffrey. “We are struggling to understand the problem here.”

Feldman opened his mouth, but Gerard held his hand up. “I find I must repeat myself. Your solution has no practical basis. No chance to affect a significant number of people. It’s risky and it would be prohibitively expensive,” he said. “Lionel Labs cannot take such an enormous risk.”

“Where does that leave us?” Jeffrey asked.

Dr. Feldman looked at Mr. Gerard who nodded. Obviously the two men had discussed the situation before the meeting. The doctor said, “You are welcome to continue your research, making the necessary adjustments of course, in an attempt to find a more elegant and financially feasible solution to the problem,” he said. “Perhaps something in pill form, similar to what’s already been done for many previously untreatable cancers.”   

“You’re suggesting a magic pill. That could take years,” Jeffrey said. “Do you not see the enormity of the problem we are trying to solve? The urgency?” Jeffrey went on to detail what was happening to people who struggled hard to cope in a mid-twenty-first century world that no longer had a place for them. School curriculums, designed to educate students for a fast paced ultra-high tech world, were beyond lower IQ students.

Jobs that required more muscle than gray matter had all but disappeared. Many of the ones that were still available paid less than a living wage. In spite of Dr. Feldman’s earlier rebuke, Jeffrey pointed out these things and added that robotics, only a science fiction writer’s dream a hundred years ago, were now ubiquitous. Drones, virtual reality conferencing and other advancements were making meaningful physical labor obsolete.

Even waitress jobs were rare, as were many sales jobs, the kind that could make a man or woman of modest intelligence a decent living. Robots were even cutting hair. Over the last two decades, otherwise decent men and women were turning to crime; others became wards of the state, mired in drug and alcohol addictions. The cost of caring for so many people (or incarcerating them) was growing. And those who were footing the bill were increasingly demanding an alternative.

Yet, there was a substantial need for intelligent, highly skilled workers, of which there was a seemingly permanent shortage. The Wright’s believed their solution could ultimately solve these problems.    

The executives listened to Jeffrey’s eloquent speech. Both nodded politely in agreement with some of Jeffrey’s points. When Jeffrey finished, Mr. Gerard said, “You are both young. You have time and you’ve made a promising start. Do your best to come up with an affordable solution in pill form.” He gestured toward Dr. Feldman. “Naturally, since we will be moving in a different direction going forward, I’ve asked Dr. Feldman to make a few adjustments to your budget -with your input, of course.” With that he stood, nodded to Dr. Feldman who also rose from his seat. The meeting was over.

As they were leaving the room, Dr. Feldman turned and said, “This may come as a surprise, but yours is not the only team we have working to solve this problem.”

Mr. Gerard, who was already opening the door, stopped and gave Dr. Feldman a warning look. “What Dr. Feldman means is that we believe another foundation is doing similar work. Isn’t that right, Doctor?”

“Yes, yes, of course. Exactly what I meant.”

But Emily and Jeffrey were dumbfounded by Dr. Feldman’s words. He had specifically said the word we. Was another team, unknown to the Wright’s, at work on an IQ project too?

 

That night at home in their high rise condominium, Emily and Jeffrey sat by the fireplace and contemplated their future. They agreed that they should begin searching for new employment. They drank more Scotch than they intended and wound up making love on the couch. Their lovemaking was mechanical, driven by frustration more than passion. Afterward, they showered together and then returned to the couch to talk. 

“If another team is working on the IQ issue, why haven’t we been told?” Emily asked.

Jeffrey went into the kitchen and refilled their glasses with ice. He poured more Scotch.

“Normally, we would have meetings with the other team and cross reference our findings. It stimulates everyone’s thinking,” he said. “If there is a competing project, my guess is they are looking in a completely different direction.”

“Pray tell, like what?”

“I don’t know, but we are going to find out. If there is another team, we need to be working together. Low IQ is a crisis, just like AIDS was seventy years ago. Emily, I know you don’t want to hear this, but Gerard and Feldman made some good points today. But there is a solution and we are on the right track.

“You’re right. I don’t like it.” Emily reached over and kissed Jeffrey hard on the lips. She undid the clip holding her rust colored red hair. This time they made it to the bedroom.

Two days later, Emily walked into Dr. Feldman’s office to pick up a micro disk containing the revised budget based on their discussion earlier that week. The doctor was on a conference call. While she waited, Emily chatted with Dr. Bonnie Cook, a bioethicist who was working on another project. The two had become friends. Dr. Cook was an attractive woman, in excellent condition. She was dedicated to weight training, something she picked up while serving in the Army.  The women chatted briefly. Emily noticed that Dr. Cook spent a lot of time in Dr. Feldman’s office, but didn’t ask why. Scientists who worked at Lionel Labs soon learned that the culture was one that minimized fraternizing.   

When Dr. Feldman saw her, he waved Emily in. He glanced at his desk and quickly picked up a micro disk. He handed it to her and turned back to the video conference. Back at her work station, Emily checked the micro disk, eager to see what the new budget would look like. If the cuts were severe, she knew it meant looking for new jobs for both of them right away. She started scrolling through the documents and saw immediately that Dr. Feldman had given her the wrong micro disk. This wasn’t a budget. Curious, she began to read the words and was soon horrified.

Jeffrey and Emily were convinced that Dr. Feldman slipped when he mentioned the existence of another IQ project. Here was definitive proof, a report addressed to Dylan Ramos, the philanthropist who donated all that money for IQ research. Ramos made his fortune making Kick, a very successful line of energy drink products. But even as she read the report, Emily could not believe what she was seeing. Lionel Labs was indeed working on another IQ project, this one top secret. They intended to solve the low IQ problem by a very different, less expensive method than the one the couple were proposing. Using Russian and Iranian scientists, they were developing a synthetic gene that, once ingested, would, within 30 days, act like an oral vaccine to sterilize anyone who took it.

She kept reading, trying to move quickly through the report, afraid that Dr. Feldman would realize his error and catch her viewing the highly confidential and damning material. The report went on to state:

“The Wright couple’s work has been enormously helpful to our cause. I am pleased to report that they have successfully isolated key intelligence related genes. Their discovery completely validates the monies spent on their project. While we have not yet been able to get the synthetic gene to focus solely on the low IQ population, we are close. In any case, as you have correctly pointed out, Dylan, with almost ten billion of us on the planet, we don’t have to be completely accurate. Certainly, we can afford it if an additional half billion people are unable to procreate, even if some of them might be otherwise useful.

Emily pulled her phone out and took a photo. She sent it to her sister and instructed her to save it. Then she deleted it. Speed reading now, Emily saw that the secret facility was located in Charlottesville, Virginia. Dr. Feldman assured Ramos that his group would be ready to unleash Rogue, the Code name for the synthetic gene, within a month. He urged Ramos to quickly get his energy drink campaign prepared for the target population’s trial run. Apparently, they intended to insert Rogue into one of Ramos’s Kick Drink products.

There was more, but Emily heard the door to the project’s main work area open. She shut down her computer. When she looked up she saw Dr. Feldman rapidly approaching. He would know she had seen the document if he saw the micro disk still attached to her laptop.

Jeffrey, who was talking to one of the other researchers also saw Dr. Feldman walk in. He turned and stepped in front of him. “Doctor, I think we need to talk,” he said. “Emily and I would like some assurances about our future.” It was an impulsive move on his part. He had no idea what Emily had discovered. But he stopped Feldman long enough to allow Emily to remove the micro disk and place it on her work station.  

Feldman brushed Jeffrey off, saying they would talk later. He walked up to Emily and said, “Have you looked at the micro disk I gave you?” He had a worried look on his face.

Not yet, I was just about to. Would you like to review it with me?” she asked.

Feldman gave her an appraising look. Apparently satisfied, he said, “No, I have a new one for you. I made an error on the original. I just discovered it. Let’s trade.” Emily handed him the micro disk and took the new one from him. “You’re sure you didn’t take a peek at the original?” he asked.   

“I didn’t have time, sorry.” Feldman just nodded and left.

Jeffrey walked over. “What was that about?”

“Later.” The look in her eye told Jeffrey it was serious.

Trying to look casual, Emily found a fresh micro disk and began downloading the complete records of the research she and Jeffrey had done. It didn’t take long to complete. The problem was that whenever anyone left the Lionel Labs building, they had to walk through a scanner which would detect any micro disks, or other software storage devices.  The work at Lionel was considered highly confidential. Every employee signed a confidentiality form which also recognized that all rights to their work were owned exclusively by Lionel Labs.

The mere fact that she had copied the documents would be noted by the company’s security officer. She would have to explain the reason she copied them the next morning. She would also be required to show the micro disk to security on her way out that evening. Not that any of this mattered. She didn’t expect to be back at Lionel Labs ever again.

Emily felt she had one option that might work to allow them to escape with the micro disk. If she removed the battery of her tablet and replaced it with the disk, it might make it through the scanner undetected. It was three o’clock. In just about three hours, she would know if it worked.  

 

Dr. Feldman went back into his office and inserted the micro disk. He could tell immediately from the date and location log that Emily Wright had lied to him. He would have to discuss this complication with Jason Gerard. Nothing could be allowed to compromise their plans. A great deal of money for both men was riding on this. He picked up his phone to call his boss, but thought better of it. He slipped the micro disk in his pocket and walked down the hall to meet with Gerard. He would need to invent a story to explain how Emily Wright got ahold of the micro disk. The truth could put him in as much danger as the Wrights were now in.  

As soon as they got in the car, Emily handed Jeffrey a note telling him not to ask any questions about her interaction with Dr. Feldman. Follow my lead she wrote. He gave her a quizzical look. “Call me crazy Jeff, but I am in the mood for a breakfast meal. Would you mind eating at Cracker Barrel?

“No, but do you know where we can find one?”

“A mile from home silly.” She handed him another note that read, We’re going to the Waffle House in Ellicott City.          

Jeffrey was about to argue. This seemed silly and he was tired. Emily anticipated him, saying, “We’re both too tired to cook. The Cracker Barrel will be fine.

Emily set the self-driving vehicle’s GPS for the Waffle House address and sat back for the ride. When they arrived, they sat in a booth. They both ordered a Waffle House specialty, bacon, eggs, home fries, biscuits and coffee.

“What’s up?” Jeffrey asked.

Emily quickly told him what she saw. That Lionel Labs was involved in a plot to sterilize millions of lower IQ people. That she was concerned that Lionel Labs might have placed a listening device in their car, perhaps even their home. “Did you make a copy of the report?” Jeffrey asked.

“Only one paragraph, I’m afraid. But I did copy all the files on our work.”

“Not much to go on,” he said. “Wait, how did you get out of the office with our files?”

She pulled out her tablet and opened the battery compartment. “See?” She pulled out the disk.  

“Wow, you’re good, but you realize Feldman knows you read his report. He’s not going to be happy about that. We’ll probably be fired tomorrow morning.”

“We’re never going to know that. We can’t go back there. They also know I copied our work papers.

The couple finished eating and headed home, neither of them saying a word. Finally, Emily could take it no more. “Jeffrey, do you realize that if they are successful with this mad plot, our research will have played a major role in making it possible? We have to find a way to stop them.”

“You’re right, Emily. The question is how?”   

When they got home, Emily took a shower while Jeffrey attacked what was left of their bottle of Scotch. Twenty minutes later, they were sitting quietly, exhausted by the day’s events. Emily was slowly sipping a glass of red wine.  The doorbell rang. Jeffrey looked up. Situated next to the door was a small TV screen that showed the face of who was calling. It was Dr. Bonnie Cook standing in front of their door. He pressed another button and the door opened.

“What’s going on?” Emily called.

“Can I come in? I’ve been standing down the hall for an hour and my feet are killing me,” she said. “I guess I didn’t see you come in.”

Dr. Cook sat on the wing chair facing the couple on the couch. “There is no point in beating about the bush. You are in a dangerous situation. I’m sure you know that Dr. Feldman knows Emily read the report about Rogue. What you don’t know is there are some very nasty people behind the project. If you go to work tomorrow, you will be arrested.”

“We won’t be going to work tomorrow, but humor me, who would arrest us? And for what?” Jeffrey asked.

“They won’t be real law enforcement officers, but they will look and act very real,” Dr. Cook said. “Wherever they take you, you won’t be seen again, ever.”

“How do you know all this?” Emily asked.

“May I have something to drink, please?” she asked. Emily got up and poured Dr. Cook some wine. “It pains me to say this, but I have been having an affair with Dr. Feldman for a couple of years now. Lately, he’s told me some things, more than he realizes, especially after he’s been drinking.”

“He told you I read the Rogue report?” Emily asked.

“Not in so many words, But, out of the blue he said, “Has your friend Emily been asking about our Charlottesville project?”

“Go on,” Emily said.

“The look on his face told me everything. Beyond that, there’s nothing more to tell, other than I didn’t realize the full scope of what these crazy people are planning until a few days ago.” Absentmindedly, she sniffed the wine. “Early on he led me to believe that Lionel was doing some research that paralleled your work. We have to stop them.”

“Do you know exactly where the Charlottesville lab is located?” Jeffrey asked.

“I do. I was there once and I have an idea,” Dr. Cook said.

The three scientists spent the better part of the night putting together a plan they thought could bring down the Rogue project and maybe even Lionel Labs. They would need some official looking paperwork and badges. They would visit the lab and tell the occupants they were inspectors with the Genetic Laboratory Certificate Authority, or GLCA which had the responsibility to certify genetic labs in accordance with Federal law. They wouldn’t have a lot of time, but they were convinced they could make their plan work.

A critical part of the plan would require Dr. Cook to steal a vial of a DNA kill-switch which was used as a safety precaution whenever synthetic genes were manufactured. The kill-switch would destroy the synthetic Rogue genes.

Dr. Cook went to her office at 6:00 a.m. the next morning, her usual time. She took her time, performing several routine tasks.  She had no trouble picking up the kill-switch material. At 9:45 she stopped in to see Dr. Feldman. He was in a foul mood. “The Wrights didn’t come in this morning,” he said. “Very unusual; did you hear from Emily by any chance?”

“No, I didn’t. They didn’t call?’

“Emily called. Told my assistant they were under the weather. I tried getting in touch, but they’re not responding to any communication we send.”

“That’s worrisome, Bruce. I have to run an errand. I’ll stop by their place and see what’s going on.”

“Call me when you find out. Tell them I need to see them both ASAP.”

  That night, The Wrights and Dr. Cook drove to Richmond, Virginia to stay at the home of Jeffrey’s maternal grandfather, Cyrus Simpson. They made no calls and they made no effort to communicate with anyone electronically. They rented a white van in Mr. Simpson’s name. Using a burner phone, Dr. Cook called her cousin Jack Cook, a former Marine, who specialized in covert operations. He was easily convinced to join them. When Jeffrey expressed concern about working with someone he never met, Dr. Cook vouched for him. “I’ve known him all my life. He’s been bored silly ever since he left the Corps. He would have said yes to just about anything. He’s big and he’s smart,” she said. “And he will supply the hardware.” Jack lived in a Charlottesville suburb. He promised to meet them at the lab.

At 10:45 the next morning, Emily, Jeffrey and Dr. Cook were in the van and headed to Charlottesville. They pulled up to the facility, a non-descript beige colored, one-story building. They waited until noon, watching as people left the building for lunch. The fewer people involved, the better their chances. Emily and Jeffrey got out first. They were dressed in white lab coats and had badges procured by Jack that looked official. They were counting on the Iranians and Russians not being knowledgeable enough to call them on it and, of course, the surprise element.   They checked their radios to make sure they could communicate with Dr. Cook. Then they went in.

An armed security guard met them at the door. “Who are you?” he asked.

“We are from the GLCA, here to perform a routine inspection,” Jeffrey answered.

“Let me see your identification.” The guard was obviously American; he wouldn’t be fooled by their badges. Instead, Emily showed him the inspection order, duly signed by the chief of the GLCA. “As my colleague said, this is routine inspection. We’ll be in and out in 30 minutes, maybe less.”

“I have to check with the office, first.” He turned and called someone who must have given the okay because he buzzed them through the door into the lab. The couple introduced themselves to a Russian woman, a Nadia Mikhailov, who spoke thick accented English.

They showed her the paperwork and flashed the badges, explaining the nature of their visit. The woman hesitated. “It’s lunch time. Some of the people you may wish to speak with are not here.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Emily said. “This is really quite routine. A more detailed inspection will take place three months from now. I will only need to check the equipment.”

“And I will need to see the storage area of the synthetics,” Jeffrey added. When the woman told them to follow her down the hall, Emily sent a silent message to Dr. Cook to let her know they were in.

“Where is your computer room?” Jeffrey asked, trying to sound casual.

“Does your inspection require you to see the room?” The woman asked.

“No, I just want to be sure there is sufficient space between your electronics and your synthetic samples. Current codes require a certain distance between the two.”

“Well, do you see that door at the far end of the room? That is where our communication technology is housed. Over here, on the other side of the building, there is another door. That’s where our samples are stored.” Emily sent another message telling Dr. Cook that they should enter through the building’s rear door. “You will find that we are completely up to date in all areas that apply to certification.”

“I’m sure you’re right, Ms. Mikhailov. My colleague will get started on the equipment check,” Jeffrey said. “I’ll need to put my mask and gloves on. Then, if you don’t mind, Ms. Mikhailov, would you unlock the door to the specimen room, please?”

“Yes of course. I must prepare as well. No one is allowed to enter the room unaccompanied.” Jeffrey expected this. Although he dreaded the moment, he was ready. When they got into the room, closing the door behind him, he turned and hit Mikhailov square on the jaw with as much force as he could muster. It was the first time he ever struck a woman. Jack had warned him that regardless of who might be in the room with him, Jeffrey could not hesitate. Man or woman, he would have to use maximum force. It worked. The Russian woman went down and stayed there.

Jeffrey sent a radio signal to Dr. Cook. Time for Bonnie and Jack to make their move. Using an explosive device that made very little noise, they blasted open the reinforced rear entry door. Normally, the explosion would have set off an alarm, but Jack had successfully rewired it in the pre-dawn hours to alarm only if a garage door about twenty feet away opened. He also rigged a lock on the garage door that would prevent it from opening.

They made their way down the hall to another glass door that required a code to open it. Emily was waiting for them with one of the employees who was dressed in a lab coat. She had successfully lured him toward the door, simply by asking him for directions to the restroom. He looked at her suspiciously, but pointed to the area. She said, “By law someone must accompany me. Even a reviewer is not allowed free access.” This relaxed him visibly, but as soon as they reached the hallway that led to the door, she trained a 22 with a silencer on the back of his neck. “Open this door,” she said. “I won’t hesitate to shoot.”

The man quickly took his ID badge and placed it on the reader, opening the door. Jack was ready with tape to put over the man’s mouth. He then dragged him into the men’s room stall and handcuffed him to one of the stall’s legs.

Jeffrey had no trouble finding the key ring Mikhailov carried, but he panicked momentarily when he saw how many keys were on the ring. He took a deep breath and examined them. He opened the temperature controlled cabinet on the fourth try. Once inside, he carefully opened the vial Dr. Cook obtained, and went to work applying the DNA kill-switch application to the Rogue genes. The Rouge synthetic gene samples were quickly destroyed.       

Dr. Cook and Jack quickly made their way to the communication room. It was surprisingly small even in an era when miniaturization was routine. In their initial planning, Emily found the Rogue plot so abhorrent, she wanted to use malware to destroy every bit of knowledge stored in the system; algorithms, lab tests, formulas, anything that could be used to re-create the Rogue gene. While the people involved would no doubt be able to recreate the synthetic gene, without all the data readily available, it would take a considerable amount of time and expense to make that possible. Enough, perhaps, to persuade Gerard and Feldman to abandon the project.

Jeffrey understood, but he was convinced that having concrete evidence would better serve their purposes. “For one thing,” he said, “we can store the data once we have it. Frankly, it might ensure our safety once Gerard and Feldman figure out what happened to Rogue.”

Dr. Cook agreed. “There’s something else to consider. We will be in a much stronger position to make the authorities aware of what was going on if we can secure the data,” she said.  “And, if in the unlikely event, the government is somehow behind the plot, we can always go to the media with what we have.”    

Dr. Cook sat down and tried logging on, working on the theory that the system was tied to Lionel Labs and would recognize her. That didn’t work. Now it was up to Jack to find a way to break into the system so they could copy the files they would need to prove the project existed. They didn’t have much time. If one of the employees called someone at Lionel Labs, it was possible that they could initiate a lockout process from there. Jack would have to work fast. Jeffrey came out of the sample room. The few people not at lunch seemed to be working, unaware of what was happening. He had handcuffed the Russian woman, removed all of her communication devices and taped her mouth shut. People would be returning to work soon, though. Things could get messy.

“How much more time do you need,” Jeffrey asked as he stepped into the communication room.  

“The system is more sophisticated than I thought it would be. Just a guess, but maybe another 20 minutes,” Jack said.

Dr. Cook was beginning to worry. “Emily, you and Jeffrey need to leave.”

Emily said no. “We are in this together.” Jeffrey nodded in agreement.

“I understand, but I need to check the monitors to make sure the interior and exterior cameras are all still working. We may need to prove that we didn’t do anything violent. Who knows what could happen to these people after our deed is discovered? Get back to Richmond. We’ll see you there later.”

Emily looked at Jeffrey. He nodded. The couple walked out through the front door, but not before noticing two men in lab coats trying to get into the sample room, which Jeffrey had locked. He still had the keys. The couple took off in the van, heading for Richmond. They would toss the keys to the synthetics room in the James River when they got there.

Fifteen minutes later Jack was inside the lab’s system. He turned the work over to Dr. Cook. While she got busy copying files, Jack went out the back door and ran to the far end of the parking lot where his rented sedan waited. He pulled it up, close to the rear entry. When he exited the vehicle, he could hear sirens. No doubt they came from both law enforcement and emergency medical vehicles. He ran back to the communication room. Two men were trying to gain entry to the door, which Bonnie had locked. He knocked the first man out with a well-placed punch just under the man’s ribcage. The other guy backed away with his hands up. He called through the door, “Is it done? We’re about to have company.”

“I need another five minutes to get everything.” she said.

“We don’t have five minutes. We need to leave now.” Dr. Cook didn’t answer, but two minutes later she came out, several micro disks safely secured in her bag. They ran out and jumped into the car. They took off for Jack’s townhouse. Fifty feet from the lab’s parking lot, they passed by the ambulance and police cars. They drove slowly edging over to the side of the road to give the vehicles plenty of room to get by them.  

 

Twenty-four hours later, the FBI was in possession of all the documentation concerning the Rogue project and the Charlottesville break in. They also had the videos showing what happened at the Charlottesville lab. The Wrights and Dr. Cook were placed in protective custody. Jack Cook couldn’t be reached. Three days later, they were all seated in a conference room meeting with the Director of the FBI, key staff members and the executive director of the Genetic Laboratory Certificate Authority. The authorities had reviewed the documents and videos. Now they wanted to hear from the Wrights and Dr. Cook, who explained what they had done and why in painstaking detail.

The head of the FBI’s counter terrorism division had a question. “Why didn’t you come to us with your suspicions? What Lionel Labs was planning was a terrorist act.”    

“We considered that,” Emily said. “But we didn’t think we had enough hard evidence. If an inquiry was made prematurely, we were afraid Mr. Gerard and Dr. Feldman would have ample time to hide, or destroy the evidence. We couldn’t take that risk.”

“But what you did was very risky. Do you understand that?” Neither the Wrights, nor Dr. Cook responded. “Some of the things you did might constitute serious criminal acts. Considering the service you’ve provided to our nation, and perhaps the world, I doubt you’ll be charged, but that has yet to be determined.”

Jeffrey looked at Emily and Dr. Cook. He said, “We understand, sir. We did what we felt we had to do. If there are consequences, we’re ready to face them.” 

The FBI Director smiled. “I doubt you’ll be charged once the story gets out. Today our strike force will hit the lab and issue arrest warrants. Some of the people there may be in this country illegally,” he said. “Jason Gerard has already agreed to cooperate with the investigation. We picked up Dr. Feldman at the International terminal at Reagan. An attorney representing Mr. Ramos has issued a statement indicating that he is the victim of fraud.”

“Is it safe to say we no longer need protective custody?” Emily asked.

“You’re free to go. We’ll know where to reach you when the time comes.”

 

“Waffle House, Ellicott City.” The vehicle pulled out of its space, following Emily’s voice command.

“Is there a genetic lab in the world that will hire us now?” Jeffrey asked.

“I doubt it,” Emily said. “These labs do a lot of sensitive work. They probably won’t be eager to trust any of us.”

Dr. Cook didn't agree. “I think you’re wrong. The low IQ problem is very serious, an epidemic really. We need a solution worthy of mankind. I am certain the genetics community will be more than eager to have two such knowledgeable neuroscientists leading the charge.”

“We’ll need a bioethicist to keep us straight,” Jeffrey said.

“Of course! Bonnie Cook laughed. “How much further to the Waffle House? I’m starving. Who’s in the mood for waffles?”