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Jack’s gaze slid to Ethan’s.
“Which ones made it past the conceptual stages?”
“Yours, for one. The US succeeded, back when you were in the business of biological warfare. So did Russia, or the Soviet Union back then. I got most of my engineering designs from old Soviet scientists fleeing the Iron Curtain and trying to make money in the strange new world they found themselves in.”
“And those designs, they included something like this?”
“Darling, there’snothinglike this.” Siddiqi held the photo as if it were the disease vector itself, the source of the pathogen. “Something this extreme, this violent? It’s too hot to be practical. You want a biological weapon to be slow. Insidious. The virus needs to be killing your enemies before they even know they’re infected, before they can mount any defense. You want them to think they have a cold, or it’s just a night of bad sleep. You want them to be careless enough to spread the disease to their family, their friends, their colleagues. Youdon’twant them to race to hospital with their illness. Quarantines are the death of weapons programs. They stop your perfect virus in its tracks. That’s just bad warfare.”
Ethan shared a disgusted look with Welby.
Jack pushed. “The knowledge to weaponize hemorrhagic feverisout there, though. Conceivably, someone could have engineered a biological weapon like this?”
Siddiqi sighed, rolling his eyes up toward the paneled ceiling. “Jack, something this deadly, this violent? It could kill nearly all the scientists who tried to cook it. And the first rule of biowarfare is,don’t kill yourself with your own creations.”
“Then what do you think this is?”
“Haven’t got a clue.”
He said it too fast, too quickly. None of the charm, none of the flippancy. Ethan saw Jack register the deception the same moment he did. Jack’s eyes narrowed.
“You’re lying.”
It was Siddiqi’s turn to stay silent.
“You’re scared,” Jack said in disbelief. “I don’t believe there’s anything in the world you don’t know, not about biological weapons. Youknowwhat this is, and you know where it comes from.”
“I don’t—”
“What happened? Why aren’t you telling us what you know?”
Siddiqi snarled. He ripped away from Jack, glaring across his sitting room into the middle distance, into something only he could see. “That, thatthing,” he said, his voice shaking, “shouldneversee the light of day!”
“What is it, Siddiqi? What is this?” Jack shoved the photo back in front of his face. Siddiqi turned away. “Are you willing to stay silent while whatever this is spreads?”
Siddiqi’s eyes flashed. “If you’re trying to appeal to my conscience, Jack, you can’t. There’s nothing there for you to touch. My only concern is for myself. I’d like to keep this life I have as long as I can. And as long as I’m under house arrest, I’m safe.” He patted the settee and brushed one hand over his crisp trousers, smoothing away imaginary dust.
“What could possibly terrify you after everything you’ve seen and everything you’ve done?”
Silence. Siddiqi looked away, his jaw clenching, muscles working over and over as he stared beyond Welby.
Ethan shifted. Grumbled. He reached for Siddiqi’s shoulder to shake him up a bit. Asshole needed a bit of handling.
Jack stayed his hand.
“I’ll tell you,” Siddiqi said, “in exchange for something.”
Oh, here we go. This was where Siddiqi asked for Jack’s briefs or a naked photo. His fists shook. Welby side-eyed him.
“In exchange for what?”
“Have dinner with me. Here, me and you. Yes, you can have your security and your guards and your video cameras to protect your virtue. But I would like to have one night of exceptional conversation again, especially with someone as breathtaking as you.”
“Listen—” Ethan growled, stepping forward.
“Done,” Jack said.
Ethan froze. Welby’s hand landed on his elbow, pulling him back.
