She’d forgotten. “Oh, that’s right. If you don’t mind, we’ll just have to go to the closest technology-friendly area and find out, won’t we?”
“That would be pretty much anywhere that isn’t the top of this mountain. We’ll head down after breakfast.”
“Good. I definitely want to get up to speed. What are your plans for our next steps out here? Did you find the website owners?”
“In a manner of speaking.” He didn’t continue, and Sam waited him out. He was just framing his argument because he knew she wouldn’t like what he had to say. He finished his bacon and then cleared his throat, his course chosen.
“A guy I grew up with runs the site. His father lives on a ranch about twenty minutes from here. Roth and I went to visit yesterday, and my friend was there. He shared some disturbing information with me. He thinks the man who is responsible for the chatter on his site is the Farmer.”
“That’s the anarchist who claims to be friends with the Unabomber, right? If that’s the case, why wasn’t the JTTF all over him?”
“Well, A, no one knows where he is. And B, this is my friend’s assumption. I don’t know if they’ve drawn the same conclusion yet.”
“But isn’t a Metro attack a little outside his normal activities? I mean, he’s known for ecoterrorism, green anarchy, that kind of stuff.”
“Ah, but what bigger use of energy and consumptive materials than a subway system?” Roth put in. “They’re just as bad as cars, and planes, and trains.”
Xander smiled at his father. “None of us has wings, Roth. We still need transportation.”
They all laughed, then grew serious again.
“Be that as it may, the Farmer is an arsonist. And he’s never hurt anyone, only taken down empty buildings and that shipyard in Tacoma. This feels like a big change in M.O.”
“I’m just telling you what my friend said,” Xander replied.
She played with her water for a moment. “Suppose it is the Farmer. Why would he be on a survivalist website talking about his crimes? I thought those kinds of people didn’t really mesh with the ecoterror set.”
“They don’t. Completely divergent political views. The anarchists are addicted to creating chaos, the survivalists are doing all they can to prepare to survive the eventuality of that chaos.”
“So again, why would he be on that site?”
“Laying a false trail?” Sunshine chimed in.
Sam considered that. “Perhaps. Or maybe trying to make sure the blame is on the wrong people. But the Farmer has always taken responsibility for his events, hasn’t he? I don’t remember any media outlets, or even the cops, mentioning him yesterday. And where would he get the abrin?”
“Where did anyone get the abrin?” Xander asked.
“Excellent point. It’s not something you can buy in the store. It had to be harvested and made. Ricin is a by-product of castor oil manufacture, that’s why it’s always been a much bigger threat—it’s much easier to access, much easier to generate large quantities. Abrin is different. It comes from the rosary pea, and because there isn’t a lot that the rosary pea does other than produce pretty red and black seeds, it’s never been widely grown, and as such, not weaponized. I was going through the acute exposure guidelines, and everything that was listed was ‘not determined.’ But three are dead and hundreds sick and more may die, because there isn’t a known antidote. A mass delivery system hurdle has been jumped. Whoever did this has made a technological breakthrough that no one has seen before. Does that sound like the Farmer?”
Xander shook his head. “You make a good point. No, it doesn’t. And it doesn’t sound like anyone else who’s been making headlines in the past decade.”
“Exactly. And looking at Ledbetter’s memoir, and knowing there may be a link to the survivalists who make up the Mountain Blue and Gray...what’s bothering me is not that he figured out a way to make it, but that he must have tested it somewhere. To know the dosages, the ratios. To make sure he had enough to really harm some people. It was airborne, so it was in some sort of propellant, which means not only did he manufacture enough to be deadly, he created a suspension that allowed the abrin to flourish. Someone somewhere has been exposed and gotten sick before this and the doctors simply didn’t know what they were dealing with. It can mask itself easily as another lung ailment.”
Roth had been following their conversation with interest. “What other kinds of lung ailment can it look like?”
“Ricin, anthrax, anything that would cause sudden pneumonia. Blood in the lungs, frothing, that sort of thing. We should be checking with that group to see if any of their people got sick.”