"I agree," Hallam said thoughtfully, "and that's the beauty of the whole plan. If you learn to make one virus that transmits its characteristics, you should be able to make others. A killer virus let loose in North America would alarm the entire continent overnight. Our public health people would isolate whole cities, if necessary, and probably eliminate it before it got out of hand. We have no quarantine for this epidemic. Nobody is worried about it and many authorities feel if a big epidemic cannot be controlled by their inadequate medical staff they might as well be killed off now." "You mean the Soviets want to eliminate the Chinese too?" Pat was incredulous. "Yes, I do." The Chief nodded emphatically. "They want to rule the whole world, not just a part of it. As time goes by, the Chinese are more and more of a threat to their supremacy. That threat must be eliminated." "What about reports of flu and the new small pox thing in Russia and Siberia?" I asked. He was almost enthusiastic. "It's a lovely plan. Yes, lovely, if it weren't so horrible in its implications." He paused to drain his cup. "For the past several years there has been very strong emphasis on public health measures in the USSR. A tremendous drive for vaccination against polio, small pox and various other communicable diseases has resulted in the immunization of millions of children and adults. I'll bet if we could get some of those vaccines we'd find the antidote to both our flu virus and the Chinese small pox-measles, whatever it is. I think there has been deliberate selection of part of the population to carry on the Soviet system and the rest will be sacrificed just to fool us. After all, the Reds believe in genetics as we do, now that Lysenko and his theories are discredited, and what more logical than breeding a better race?" "I'm not quite sure I follow that last part," I said. "Only the Chinese are being killed off." "Only the Chinese are dying, as individuals," Hallam spoke slowly and emphatically, "but I fear we are also dying--as a nation!" CHAPTER 3 The sloop bucked a little as the bow chopped into a wave and fell a few points off course. The steady chugging of the small marine engine pushed her on, sidling up over the low rollers and sliding down the other side joyfully like a little kid on a playground coaster. The wind was cool and gentle, the sun bright in the southeast. We were running north, close to the coast, with Bowen Island and Gibsons already far astern. At that time of year, and in the middle of the week, traffic was light. The nearest ship was only a smudge on the horizon. I bent a line around the tiller and went below.