Burning Angels

‘And what about finding Kammler’s island? If the kid is for real, how do we track its location?’

Jaeger took a gulp of coffee. ‘Tough one. Within a six-hundred-mile radius of Nairobi there are hundreds of possibilities. Maybe thousands. But my guy Jules Holland is on to it. They’ll get him to Falkenhagen and he’ll start digging. Trust me, if anyone can track that island, the Ratcatcher can.’

‘And if the kid’s story is true?’ Narov pressed. ‘Where does that leave us?’

Jaeger stared into the distance — into the future. Much as he was trying to downplay it, he couldn’t keep the worry and tension from his voice.

‘If the kid is right, Kammler’s got the Gottvirus refined and tested. All the kids who weren’t inoculated died. That means it’s back up to a near one hundred per cent lethality. It is the God Virus once more. And as all the inoculated kids survived, it looks as if he’s sorted his antidote. All he needs now is a weapon delivery system.’

‘That’s if he intends to use it.’

‘From what Falk told us, the signs are that he will.’

‘So how close d’you think he is?’

‘Falk said the kid escaped six months ago. So Kammler’s had at least that long to work on delivery. He’d need to ensure the virus is infective via airborne means, so that it’ll spread as far and fast as possible. If he’s cracked that, his vision is nearing completion.’

Narov’s face darkened. ‘We’d better find that island. And I mean like yesterday.’

62

They’d ordered an in-flight meal and it proved surprisingly good. Pre-packed, frozen and microwaved — but for all that eminently edible. Narov had gone for the seafood selection — a platter of smoked salmon, prawns and scallops, served with an avocado salsa.

Jaeger watched curiously as she proceeded to push the food around her plate, rearranging it with seemingly exacting precision. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen her do this segregation act. She didn’t seem able to start eating until each type of food had been moved into a place where it couldn’t touch — contaminate? — the others.

He nodded at her plate. ‘Looks good. But what’s with quarantining the smoked salmon from the salsa? You worried they’re going to fight?’

‘Foods of differing colours should never touch,’ Narov replied. ‘The worst is red on green. Like salmon on avocado.’

‘Okay… but why?’

Narov glanced at him. The shared mission — the sheer emotional intensity of the past few days — seemed to have softened her hard edges a little.

‘The experts say I am autistic. High-functioning, but autistic nonetheless. Some people term it Asperger’s. I am “on the spectrum”, they say — my brain is wired differently. Hence red food and green cannot touch.’ She glanced at Jaeger’s plate. ‘But I don’t much care for labels, and frankly, the way you shove your food around like a cement mixer makes me want to be sick. Rare lamb speared on a fork with green beans: I mean, how can you do that?’

Jaeger laughed. He loved the way she’d turned it right back on him.

‘Luke had a friend — his best buddy, Daniel — who was autistic. The Ratcatcher’s son, in fact. Great kid.’ He paused guiltily. ‘I said “had a friend”. I meant “has”. Luke has a friend. As in present and still very much with us.’

Narov shrugged. ‘Using the wrong tense doesn’t affect your son’s fate. It won’t determine whether he lives or dies.’

Were Jaeger not so used to Narov by now, he could have punched her. The comment was typical: lacking in empathy; a bull-in-a-china-shop kind of remark.

‘Thanks for the insight,’ he shot back, ‘not to mention the sympathy.’

Narov shrugged. ‘You see, this is what I do not understand. I thought I was telling you something you needed to know. It is logical and I thought it would be helpful. But from your viewpoint — what? I have just been rude?’

‘Something like that, yeah.’

‘Many autistic people are very good at one thing. Exceptionally gifted. They call it savant. Autistic savant. Often it is maths, or physics, or prodigious feats of memory, or perhaps artistic creativity. But we are often not very good at many other things. Reading how other — so-called normal — people tend to think isn’t our strong point.’

‘So what’s your gift? Beyond tact and diplomacy?’

Narov smiled. ‘Hardly. I know I am hard work. I understand that. It is why I can seem so defensive. But remember, to me you are very hard work. For example, I do not understand why you were angered by my advice about your son. To me it was the obvious thing to say. It was logical and I was trying to help.’

‘Okay, I get it. But still — what’s your gift?’

‘I excel at one thing. I am truly obsessed by it. It is hunting. Our present mission. At its most basic you could say killing. But I do not see it that way. I see it as ridding the earth of unspeakable evil.’

‘Mind if I ask a further question?’ Jaeger prompted. ‘It’s kind of… personal.’