“Every year almost a million people die of malaria, Bernie,” said Henkell. “A million.” He nodded at Jacobs. “He just wants a vaccine to give to American soldiers before they go to whichever part of the world they intend to occupy next. Southeast Asia, possibly. Central America, for sure.”

“Why don’t you write an article for the newspapers?” said Jacobs. “Tell the whole goddamn world what we’re up to here.”

“But Eric and I want to save lives,” said Henkell, ignoring Jacobs. “This is his work as much as it is mine.” He took off his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt collar. “Think of it, Bernie. The idea that Germans could do something that would save a million lives a year. That might go a long way to balancing the books for what Germany did during the war. Wouldn’t you say so?”

“It might at that,” I admitted.

“A million lives saved every year,” said Henkell. “Why, in six years, even the Jews might have forgiven us. And in twenty, perhaps the Russians, too.”

“He wants to give it to the Russians,” murmured Jacobs. “Beautiful.”

“That’s what drives us forward, Bernie.”

“To say nothing of all the money they’ll make if they do manage to synthesize a vaccine,” said Jacobs. “Millions of dollars.”

Henkell shook his head. “He doesn’t have the first idea of what really drives us,” he said. “He’s a bit of a cynic. Aren’t you, Jonathan?”

“If you say so, kraut.”

I glanced around the hothouse laboratory. There were two work benches, one on either side of the room. One was home to a variety of scientific equipment, including several microscopes. On the other were ranged a dozen or so heated glass cases. Under a window looking out onto another part of the neat garden were three sinks. But it was the glass cases that drew my attention. Two of them were teeming with insect life. Even through the glass you could hear the whining sound of the many mosquitoes, like tiny opera singers trying to sustain a high note. It made my flesh creep just to look at them.

“Those are our VIPs,” said Henkell. “The Culex pipen. The stagnant-water variety of mosquito and therefore the most dangerous, as it carries the disease. We try to breed our own in the lab. But from time to time we have to get new specimens sent all the way from Florida. The eggs and larvae are surprisingly resilient to the low temperatures of long-distance air travel. Fascinating, aren’t they? That something so small can be so lethal. Which malaria is, of course. For most people, anyway. Studies I’ve seen show that it’s nearly always fatal in children. But women are more resistant than men. Nobody knows why.”

I shuddered and stepped away from the glass case.