William opened an application Desmond wasn’t familiar with. On the left hand side of the screen was a series of satellite images, each one dated; on the right was a world map with glowing dots. William clicked a dot south of Russia, right at the border of Uzbekistan and Kazakhstan. An overhead image appeared: a small island on an inland sea.
“Several Citium-controlled companies were sending shipments to this site: Vozrozhdeniya Island. The Russian doesn’t translate well, but it’s roughly ‘Rebirth Island’ or ‘Renaissance Island.’ A fitting name. In 1948, the Soviet Union built a top-secret bioweapons lab on the island. They expanded it in 1954, when it was renamed Aralsk-7. The Soviets’ Microbiological Warfare Group operated there, testing some of the world’s most lethal pathogens. In 1971, they accidentally released a weaponized form of smallpox. Ten people were infected; three died. Could have been a lot worse. People who worked at Aralsk-7 have admitted to working on anthrax spores and strains of bubonic plague—both of which were weaponized.
“The site was officially shut down in 1991. All the military and civilian personnel were evacuated. The town on the island, Kantubek, which had housed fifteen hundred people who worked at the facility, became a ghost town. That’s why I was so surprised that the Citium was flying shipments into the island. Public satellite imagery showed no activity, but as Avery noted previously, for unpopulated areas, the images aren’t updated frequently. I found a commercial satellite company that provided private imaging, and those images proved that the activity at the site has continued—until recently.”
William clicked an image. “These are from the past month.”
He hit the right arrow key, moving through the set. In the first image, the buildings on the island were lit. Desmond could just make out five figures at various points around the perimeter, wisps of smoke rising from what looked like cigarettes, dogs on leashes close beside them. In the next image, a convoy of trucks was backed up to a loading dock. Then the trucks were gone, but the guards were still there. In the final image, Desmond saw no signs of life, only darkened buildings.
“Does it show where the trucks went?” Avery asked.
“No,” William replied. “The satellite contract was only for a limited coverage area. I assume they loaded the cargo onto a train in Uzbekistan.”
That surprised Desmond. “I thought you said they were on an island?”
“It was an island—until 2001. The Aral Sea has been shrinking since the sixties. The Soviets diverted the rivers feeding the Aral Sea for irrigation projects. It’s now about ten percent of its original size. In fact, it’s just four large lakes at this point.”
William turned to the group. “Overall, I think Aralsk-7 would be a perfect site to create the virus. The necessary infrastructure is already there. It’s isolated. It can be defended. The land is split between the border of Uzbekistan and Kazakhstan. Either or both nations could have leased it to the Citium. And, the southern part of the island now has a land bridge to Uzbekistan, offering ground transport.”
Desmond motioned toward the laptop. “But it looks like they’re gone.”
“Precisely,” William said. “We know something’s there—or was until recently. The evacuation of Aralsk-7 coincides with the outbreak—which means they no longer needed it at the exact moment the virus was released. And, with only four of us, it’s a site we have a reasonable chance of infiltrating. Even if there’s a small guard contingent remaining, we’ll have the element of surprise.”
“If they’ve evacuated the site,” Peyton said, “what’s our objective?”
“Information,” William answered. “We’re looking for a list of sites where they shipped the cure. We find that, we’ll have something to send to governments around the world. And if we don’t find that, maybe a sample of the cure. Perhaps it can be reverse engineered.”
“Are there any other sites that could be potential candidates?” Desmond asked.
“No. Well, nothing this close. To me, Aralsk-7 is our best move.” William scanned the room, prompting the others to weigh in.
“I like it better than the Isle. And a lot more than Des’s childhood home,” Avery said.
“Same here,” Peyton said.
“Okay,” Desmond said. He felt drawn to the Labyrinth location at his childhood home. He desperately wanted to know what was there—what he had left behind. But he knew William’s plan was their best hope of stopping the pandemic. That was the priority. His own answers would have to wait. “So how do we get in?”
William pointed to what looked like a starburst carved in the brown terrain.
“What is that?” Avery asked.
“Four runways intersecting; only airport like it in Russia.”
“Why would they intersect like that?”
“The weather on the island changes frequently. Wind direction shifts. Depending on the wind, you have to use a different runway. It’s not exactly an easy landing.”
Avery looked at the ceiling. “Wonderful.”
Day 12
5,600,000,000 Infected
6,000,000 Dead
Chapter 85
At CDC headquarters in Atlanta, Millen Thomas walked to the Biosafety Level Four laboratory deep inside the building. He stopped at the iris scan and held his head still. When the lock clicked, he pushed the door open.
The entire lab was a self-contained space with twelve-inch-thick concrete walls and a sixteen-inch-thick concrete floor with heavy steel reinforcement. The place was capable of withstanding an earthquake. By necessity, it also had its own air supply. Decontamination procedures involved flooding the space with vaporized hydrogen peroxide or formaldehyde.
In the clothing room, Millen grabbed a pair of surgical scrubs, socks, and underwear from the wire rack. He changed in the locker room, stowing every article of his own clothing. Glasses were the only personal item allowed inside the lab.