“… okay.” I cleared my throat. “She says that if this research means what she thinks it means, the world has a right to know, and that if you’re not willing to help, we might not be able to figure out enough to know what to tell them. She says this is for everybody.” I paused before adding, “And I say it looks like they were willing to blow up Oakland and infect an entire CDC facility to keep the news from getting out without it looking like they were trying to hide something. I want to get at least part of the work off this continent, so somebody can keep on going after they drop the bomb on Maggie’s place.”

“I swear, I’m going to move to San Francisco just to make you people stop using me as your off-site backup.” Mahir sighed deeply. “Fine.”

“Fine? You mean you’ll do it?”

“I’m clearly out of my mind, and I’m going to regret this for the rest of my life, and my wife is probably going to leave ut yes, I’ll do it. Someone has to. I’m going to have to involve my local beta bloggers. This is a rather large project.”

“Whatever you need, but keep it limited to people you know and can trust, okay? We can’t risk this getting out early.”

“Silence is expensive.”

“That’s not a problem. I’m sure if we shake the merchandising hard enough, the money will fall out.” If nothing else, I had a standing offer to print a book of George’s posts from the campaign trail. I’d been refusing—somehow that felt more like making money off her corpse than continuing to run her blog did—but it would be a good way to make some reasonably quick cash. And then there was Maggie’s trust fund. Normally, I wouldn’t think of going there. These were some pretty special circumstances.

“Oh, believe me, I wasn’t intending to worry about the budget, and if I’m still married when this is over, you’re financing the second honeymoon it’s going to take for me to stay that way.”

“Totally fair. Thank you. Really, thank you. You’re a good guy.”