The Pharaoh's Secret (NUMA Files 13)

“Yes, that’s correct. The excess heat and lack of humidity cause the frogs to enter a survival mode. They burrow into the mud and grow extra layers of skin, which dry up and seal them in like a cocoon. Their bodies go dormant, their hearts virtually stop beating and they become entombed, with only their nostrils remaining clear so they can breathe.”

Kurt was astonished. “This is where the Black Mist comes from? Dormant bullfrogs?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“How does it work?”

“In response to the dry conditions,” Golner explained, “glands in the frogs’ bodies produce a cocktail of enzymes, a complex mix of chemicals, that triggers dormancy at the cellular level. Only the lowest part of the brain remains active.”

“Like a human brain in a comatose state.”

“Yes,” the biologist said. “It’s almost identical.”

“So you and your team extracted this chemical cocktail from the frogs and modified it to be effective on human biology.”

“We adjusted the chemicals to be effective on larger species,” Golner said. “Unfortunately, that shortens the shelf life. If it’s frozen at subzero temperatures, it can be kept indefinitely. But at room temperature it will become inert in eight hours. When released into the air, it will dissipate within two to three hours, breaking down into simple organic compounds.”

“That’s why they found no trace of it on Lampedusa,” Kurt said.

Golner nodded.

“That’s a very short-lived weapon,” Kurt noted.

“It wasn’t supposed to be a weapon. Not at first. It was a treatment. A way to save lives.”

Kurt didn’t really believe that, but he let the man explain. “How so?”

“Doctors use medically induced comas all the time. For trauma victims, burn victims and others who’ve experienced tremendous injuries. It’s a way to allow the body to heal. But the drugs are very dangerous. They’re damaging to the liver and kidneys. This drug would be natural, less harmful.”

He sounded like a true believer and a man trying to convince himself both at the same time.

“I hate to say it, Brad, but you’ve been sold a bill of goods.”

“I know,” Golner replied. “I should have known anyway. They kept asking about methods of delivery. Could it be dissolved in water? Could it be disbursed in the air? There was no medical reason to ask such questions. Only weapons need be distributed in these ways.”

“So why keep working on it?”

“Some of the others raised questions and promptly disappeared,” Golner said.

Kurt understood. “I’ve seen how Shakir treats those who cross him. It’s my intention to put an end to that.”

“It won’t be that easy,” Golner said sadly. “Soon, the whole process will be automated. They won’t even need me.” He put the bullfrog back down in its hole. “Come with me.”

They went through another air lock and emerged in a typical research lab. Clean, dark and quiet, filled with refrigerators and lab tables on which small centrifuges were slowly spinning.

Brad Golner checked the first one and then the second. “The new batch isn’t quite ready,” he said, moving from the centrifuge to one of the stainless steel refrigerators. He opened the door and cool mist poured out. Reaching in, he pulled a few vials from a freezer, placed them in a Styrofoam box and then added cold packs all around it.

“You have about eight hours before it warms up past the critical temperature. After that, it’s no good.”

“How do I use it?” Kurt said.

“What do you mean use it?”

“To revive the people on Lampedusa,” Kurt said. “The ones Shakir put into a coma.”

Golner shook his head. “No,” he said urgently. “This isn’t the antidote. It’s the Black Mist.”

“I need the antidote,” Kurt explained. “I’m trying to wake people up, not put them to sleep.”