“Well, I’ve worked with some of the most dangerous pathogens on the planet over the years. The first thing I think about when I’m doing it is containment. In my case a whole lot of stainless steel, four-inch-thick glass, air locks, and suits with separate oxygen supplies. And if all that fails, there’s a toxic chemical shower that kills everything it touches.”

From his expression, it was clear that Maple was starting to see where he was headed. “Of course! Why didn’t I think of that? Reactor Four wasn’t sabotaged with the nanobots. They were being developed there! The tsunami hit, containment was breached, and they flooded the lab with radiation. That’s why there’s no activity in the samples you gave me. They’re dead!”

33

33

Prince George’s County, Maryland
USA

When Jon Smith entered Klein’s office, a young woman with tattoo-covered arms and a gold nose ring looked extraordinarily happy to see him. It was hard not to sympathize. Being stuck in a small room with Fred Klein and Randi Russell could be a little intense.

“How are you feeling?” she said with genuine concern.

“Better every day, Star. Thanks for asking.”

Star Minetti was a thirty-something who looked like she’d spent most of her life dealing drugs from the back of a Harley. In fact, she was a former librarian and research genius. If you threw her in a warehouse full of unsorted government documents, she’d come up with the exact crumpled Post-it note you wanted inside of three hours. The fact that the old man was willing to overlook all the piercings and body art pretty much said it all about her skill level.

Klein greeted him with a subtle nod as he took a seat, but Randi ignored him in favor of fiddling with the lid of her travel mug. It was to be expected. Their conversation about Kaito Yoshima had strayed pretty far into the personal and after those kinds of exchanges, she always seemed to pull back a bit.

“Did you find Dr. Ito?” Smith asked.

“Not exactly,” Star replied, standing against the wall in what seemed to be an effort to blend in with the artwork. “He does have an address, though. A nice house outside Ono. It’s right there in the local phone book.”

Smith started to ask a question but she anticipated it. “It’s a few miles from the Fukushima plant.”

“That’s what I was afraid of. Can I assume he’s not living there anymore?”

“It’s closed up.”

“And when did he move out?”

“It was one of the areas evacuated after the tsunami. He never came back.”

Smith let out a long breath.

“Go on, Star,” Klein prompted.