“We know you didn’t come up with this phage theory on your own,” Vaill added. “Where did you get your information?”

He spoke in an even, unflappable voice—the kind Lou used whenever he needed to calm an especially nervous patient. Lou had the sense that, like an ultra marathoner who could run hours on end without tiring, Vaill could do the same when it came to interrogating a suspect.

The older agent got up from his chair and came around to Lou’s side of the table. The stuffy, staged discomfort of the little room was becoming increasingly effective. Sweat was running down Lou’s spine. He knew what they were after now.

“Do you want to know what we think?” McCall said.

“Not really,” Lou answered.

“We think you guys are in a pickle. You’ve created a monster with this germ, but for whatever reason, you’ve lost control of it. So, now you’ve got all your smart medical guys tasked with developing a treatment before this nasty bug really breaks out.”

“What do you mean ‘you guys’?” Lou asked, all at once genuinely curious.

“Hey, we’re doing the talking!” Vaill snapped. “You’ll get your chance soon enough.”

“We don’t know how you got recruited into One Hundred Neighbors,” McCall went on, “but I promise sooner or later you’re going to tell us.”

“How long have you and your terrorist pals been working nonstop on this?” Vaill asked. “Turning over every rock, vetting every possible theory, looking for a cure because, without it, you’ve got no leverage. You’re just a bunch of murderers. Mass murderers at that.”

One Hundred Neighbors … Terrorists … Murderers …

Lou searched the men’s faces for any sign he was being toyed with and found none. He felt as if he had stumbled into quicksand, and his legs were no longer capable of pushing himself out. Where in the hell had they gotten their information? Dead on with their information one minute, coming from Mars the next.

“I’m not part of any terrorist organization,” he insisted.

“Of course you are,” Vaill said. “We have proof.”

“What proof?” Lou was outraged now. “You’re making up stuff just to rattle me.”

“Are we?” McCall asked.

At that instant the realization hit. They’re going to hold me indefinitely.

Everyone had heard of suspected terrorists being kept without ever being charged—kept and eventually waterboarded. From his conversations with Humphrey, Lou knew there was some sort of terrorist connection to the germ, but even Humphrey did not know exactly what it was. To give these guys even that much information would eventually lead them to Humphrey—probably at Lou’s bodily expense. For now at least, he vowed to maintain ignorance … at least as long as he could.

“Do you know a group called One Hundred Neighbors?” McCall asked.

“Never heard of them.”

“You’re lying,” Vaill said. “You’re part of them.”