Victoria commandeered a helicopter from a nearby airstrip. Private. Expensive. The kind that did not ask questions when armed, bloodied people climbed aboard."Where to first?" the pilot asked, visibly nervous."Geneva," Victoria said. "World Health Organization headquarters. We need their distribution network. Now."The flight took forty minutes. The temperature gauge on the reversal sequence container dropped steadily. Minus seventy-five degrees. Minus seventy-eight. Approaching critical failure."We need more cooling," Hope said, studying the readouts. "The container was designed for stationary storage, not transport. The vibration from the helicopter is accelerating the warming.""How long do we have?" Damien asked."At current rate? Six hours. Maybe seven. Then the reversal sequence denatures. Becomes completely useless. Four million children stay modified forever."Torres was on her phone, speaking rapidly. "I am calling every contact I have. FBI. CIA. Interpol. Someone has to h
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