The Genesis Plague (2010)

building’s entire tenth floor, with a ‘team-based’ open-plan office that provided clear views to windows on all four sides. When Brooke had commented to Flaherty on the irony of all this security for an office surrounded by glass, Flaherty had explained that the windows were blast-proof, tinted to keep out prying eyes both day and night, even dampered against vibration to prevent hi-tech spies from tracing conversations with parabolic microphones. ‘This ain’t no fish-bowl,’ he’d conspiratorially confided.
    No matter what work was performed here (or at the firm’s twenty-six similar offices Flaherty had said were located around the globe to ensure maximum redundancy and logistical advantages), the layered security protocols seemed excessive. She figured the firm was a living testimonial to its products and services.
    But even this hi-tech nerve centre had no knowledge of why Brooke Thompson had been secreted into Iraq in 2003, and why now someone wanted her dead because of it.
    God, how can this be happening?

33
    ‘Brooke,’ a voice suddenly squawked over the intercom on the desk phone.
    ‘Yes?’ Brooke spoke quietly into the phone.
    ‘It’s me. Flaherty. Stand up.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘Just do it.’
    She did.
    ‘Look to your left. See me over here?’
    Directing her gaze left, she saw a hand waving to her. Flaherty’s head popped up over the cubicles. She waved back at him.
    ‘Come on over here,’ he said, before disconnecting.
    Noting his position, Brooke set off through the partitions.
    Angling her way through a maze of office cubicles, Brooke snuck glances at Global Security Corporation’s resident employees - mostly attractive twenty-something males and females wearing business casual attire and slim headsets. Each techie monitored not one, but three to five flat screens packed with streaming data.
    Nearer where Flaherty stood at the centre of the floor, the hi-tech workstations were laid out along a wide semicircle. Here the computer displays were dominated by tactical maps and schematic blueprints.
    ‘Come on over, Brooke,’ he said, waving her closer. ‘There’s someone I’d like you to meet.’
    The person to whom Flaherty was referring stood from her chair. Barely reaching the agent’s shoulder, the petite woman had bobbed grey hair and wore a tasteful flannel pants suit.
    ‘Annie is our resident expert on satellite surveillance. Our eye in the sky.’
    ‘Hi, Brooke. A pleasure to meet you,’ Annie said.
    Brooke immediately pegged Annie’s refined New England accent, heard so many times at university charity events and museum fundraisers. It sang of old money. Annie proffered a dainty, manicured hand that hosted a jaw-dropping emerald-cut diamond ring that validated Brooke’s assessment.
    ‘Thanks. Nice to meet you too,’ Brooke replied warmly.
    ‘Tommy’s told me you’ve had quite a crazy day.’
    Brooke rolled her eyes and sighed. ‘It’s like a bad movie.’
    ‘You poor dear,’ Annie said, smiling sympathetically.
    ‘Brooke, I want you to take a look at this,’ Flaherty said, pointing to the images on the display that they’d been reviewing. ‘Have a seat.’
    Easing into the chair, Brooke stared at the monitor, which showed an incredibly detailed aerial shot of a highly diverse terrain. The software interface looked like the next generation of Google Earth. There were mountains to the top and right of the screen, green flatlands in the middle and to the left, and brownish tans blending in at the bottom. Roadways appeared as thin lines, and webbed throughout the land to connect a disparate matrix of dense cities. Though for Brooke, the rivers snaking through the plains were the region’s true fingerprint.
    ‘Just want you to confirm something for us,’ Flaherty said. ‘We’re looking at—’
    ‘Northern Iraq,’ she said.
    Annie smiled. ‘Right.’
    Brooke anticipated Flaherty’s request. ‘The cave was right here, in the mountains.’ She pointed to the exact spot. ‘There.’ She looked up at Flaherty. ‘Did I pass the test?’
    He smiled. ‘Yup.’
    Annie leaned in to get a closer look. ‘That’s it,’ she confirmed.
    ‘With the eight-hour time difference, it’s nighttime there right now,’ Flaherty said. ‘So this isn’t a live shot. It was taken earlier today. But you’ll get the idea.’
    Annie pulled up a chair, sat beside Brooke, and used the mouse to steadily zoom in on the Zagros Mountains. As the eye in the sky homed in on