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She was awash in epinephrine and dopamine. Her levels were so high that she was surprised she wasn’t banging her body against the walls to try to alleviate the effects. In fact, she couldn’t believe that such levels could exist without causing major physiological harm. One’s body wasn’t geared to accept this saturation of fight-or-flight chemicals. Had she been any less fit, she probably would have had a heart attack.
    She labeled the remaining vials and brought them to a nearby workstation. A piece of paper taped to the wall above the station listed the name of one of the Price scientists that she knew. She tore off a Post-it to write a note, then hesitated, not sure just what she wanted. She scribbled on the pad, asking the chemist to test for ricin, anthrax, HIV, and botulinum toxin. She also requested information on dopamine uptake and wrote Banner’s number as a contact.
    Emma left the lab, making sure the door locked behind her. Whenthe elevator doors shushed open, darkness greeted her. The soft African night held the sound of township music playing far in the distance. There was a pull about Africa that one was unable to ignore. Something vibrant, elemental, and dangerous all at the same time. Emma paused. She wanted to stay, to dance to the native music, let the magic take her. A post-race celebration was scheduled at a local nightspot, but she wasn’t sure it was the safest place to be that evening. She unlocked her rental car, tossed the duffel into the trunk, and started her drive to the airport.

7
    SUMNER WATCHED THE PIRATES PREPARE TO FIRE.
    “Hit them again,” Wainwright said. The LRAD blared. The pirates were closer now, and its beam worked much better at close range. Sumner watched the pirate holding the grenade launcher lower it and shake his head, like a dog flapping its ears, attempting to ward off the unbearable noise. They’d bought themselves some time, but not much else. The emergency sirens blared throughout the ship. Sumner watched the passengers surging onto the decks.
    Wainwright snorted in disgust. “I’d love to know which idiot pulled the fire alarm. Carter”—he waved at a nearby officer—“tell the security detail to get those people into the center of the ship. They’re sitting ducks on the decks.” Carter nodded and jogged off the bridge. Wainwright turned to the other crew members. “I want this ship moving as fast as it can go, and I want it now.”
    Wainwright’s crew responded with a calm that Sumner found impressive. The ship, all twenty-eight thousand tons of it, would never outrun the cigarette boats, but the added speed would help make it difficult to board.
    “Why don’t you just blow the bastards out of the water?” Block’s voice held a note of hysteria.
    Sumner gritted his teeth. The last thing he needed was a three-hundred-pound beef head panicking. Wainwright seemed to have the same concern, because he cut Block off at the knees.
    “Mr. Block, maritime law does not allow us to carry heavy weapons. I asked you to leave. Don’t add to my troubles here by asking stupid questions.” Wainwright turned to Sumner. “Mr. Sumner? Any ideas?”
    “You’re asking a cabin boy what to do? What the hell kind of captain are you?” Block’s voice had risen an octave. His face was flushed with anger or fear—Sumner didn’t know the man well enough to determine which—and he thrust it at Wainwright.
    Sumner stepped between the two men and faced Wainwright. “I have a gun.”
    “Now you’re talkin’,” Block said.
    Wainwright ignored him. “What kind of gun?”
    Sumner hesitated. The gun was a sniper rifle and banned on board a cruise liner. Using it would be a last resort. Before he could respond, the ship’s radio crackled.
    “ Kaiser Franz, this is the USS Redoubtable. We’ve received a distress signal. Please advise.”
    Wainwright grabbed the radio. “Captain Wainwright, Kaiser Franz. We’re in a standoff attack. Two cigarette boats armed with