“I’m not exactly sure. If it’s some kind of poison, the only way we can be sure to dispose of it is with very high heat. They might employ a series of explosions, fire, or both. But whatever they do, it’ll happen soon so don’t be alarmed if you hear something pretty darn loud.”

“Poor Doc Johnson.” Megan sighed.

The two agents stood, and Frank stood with them. “I’m really at a loss for words. I’m not ashamed to admit I’m scared shitless.” He glanced at Ragheb. “Sorry, ma’am. I’m just afraid that if we don’t figure out what killed the cattle, it could happen again.”

Agent Carrington shook his hand. “We’ll do our best to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

As Frank and Megan walked the agents out to the porch, the ground shook and the windows rattled with the boom of a distant explosion. A flash of light from the direction of the pasture was followed almost immediately by another loud boom.

Frank grabbed Megan’s hand and squeezed it lightly. “That wasn’t too bad—”

Another flash lit the horizon, and the sound of an even larger explosion ripped past the house, shattering one of the windows. Jasper, who was locked up in a bedroom, howled, and Megan cried out. It took a full fifteen seconds before the ringing in Frank’s ears subsided.

The radio on his belt vibrated and he heard Buck’s voice broadcast on the handheld unit’s speaker. “Mr. O’Reilly, did you hear some gosh darn loud explosion? The cattle are spooked as hell.”

Silently, Frank prayed that was it for the explosions.

Agent Carrington looked sheepishly at the broken window. “I’m sorry, sir. I’ll have one of the local FBI agents come by later. We’ll pay to get that fixed.”

Chapter Seventeen

Paul Hutchison’s office door opened, and the balding director of AgriMed security greeted Juan with a grim expression.

“Come on in.” Hutchison motioned toward a chair and took a seat behind the simple Formica-topped desk.

Juan sat and felt a sense of foreboding, almost as if he were back in elementary school and sitting in the principal’s office.

“Dr. Gutierrez, I’ll cut to the chase. An assistant director of the FBI contacted me and I’ve been read in on some things you need to know about.”

“Read in?” Juan asked.

“Sorry. In the government, when you’re authorized access to certain classified programs, they say you’re being ‘read in’ to that program. Speaking of which…” Hutchison pushed a small stack of papers across his desk toward Juan. “This is an SF86, a standard form the government uses to vet someone for access to classified material. You’re going to need to fill this out.”

It was a long form. “All of this?” Juan asked. “What’s this about?”