Chapter 11: The Fallout
New Delhi, India – The Exposé Hits
The headlines broke like a thunderclap across the world.
> EXCLUSIVE: UK LAB ENGINEERED CRIMSON STRAIN – EVIDENCE POINTS TO BIOGENX AND GOVERNMENT INVOLVEMENT
By Vikram Mehta
Within minutes of publication, Vikram’s phone exploded with calls. Some were from fellow journalists, others from sources wanting to confirm the details. Then came the death threats.
Sitting in the cramped office of The Sentinel, Vikram read the official UK government response:
> "The claims made in this so-called 'investigation' are categorically false and designed to spread misinformation. The UK has always been at the forefront of combating global pandemics, not engineering them."
Vikram scoffed. Exactly the response he expected.
Evelyn paced beside him. “They’re playing the denial game. But we have the documents, the emails—”
“They’ll discredit it all,” Vikram muttered. “They’ll call it fabricated, claim we manipulated data.”
Evelyn’s hands clenched into fists. “We need more.”
Vikram’s eyes darkened. “We need a whistleblower.”
A shadow appeared at the office door. Vikram turned, his breath catching.
Dr. Ananya Bose.
She looked exhausted—her hair pulled into a loose bun, dark circles under her eyes. But her gaze was steady.
“I think I can help,” she said.
The Missing Link
They moved to a secure location—a safe house set up by a network of investigative journalists.
Dr. Bose spread out medical reports, internal WHO memos, and something that made Vikram’s heart pound—a genetic sequence analysis of the Crimson Strain.
“This was not just engineered,” she said, tapping the papers. “It was optimized for maximum lethality.”
Vikram’s pulse quickened. “Optimized how?”
Ananya pointed to a section in the genetic report. “A natural virus mutates unpredictably. But this—this was precise. They designed it to have an incubation period that mimicked the flu but with delayed onset of severe symptoms.”
Evelyn sucked in a breath. “Which means—”
“Which means by the time a patient realizes they’re seriously ill, they’ve already infected hundreds of people.”
Silence filled the room.
“This is how it spread so fast,” Ananya whispered. “Someone wanted it that way.”
Vikram swallowed hard. “We have to find out who signed off on this research. Someone, somewhere, left a paper trail.”
Evelyn nodded. “And that means one thing—we go back to London.”
London, UK – A Dangerous Alliance
They arrived in London under fake identities, using contacts Harper had left behind before his death. The city felt different—colder, more suffocating. Every shadow felt like a threat.
Their target? A former BioGenX executive, Dr. Charles Whitaker.
Once a key researcher in the company, Whitaker had disappeared after the outbreak. But according to Vikram’s sources, he was hiding in plain sight—a man with too much knowledge and nowhere to run.
They found him in a seedy bar near King’s Cross, nursing a whiskey. His hair was unkempt, his eyes darting nervously as he spotted Vikram and Ananya.
“I knew you’d come,” he muttered, exhaling shakily.
Evelyn leaned forward. “Then you know why we’re here.”
Whitaker laughed bitterly. “I should’ve spoken out sooner. But they own everything. The government, the pharma giants, the regulators… I was a fool to think science was pure.”
Ananya pushed the genetic analysis across the table. “You worked on this. Didn’t you?”
Whitaker’s expression crumbled. He nodded.
“But I wasn’t the architect,” he whispered. “That was Dr. Malcolm Voss.”
Evelyn stiffened. “Voss? He’s the head of the WHO’s pandemic task force.”
Whitaker gave a dead-eyed stare. “And also the man who signed off on the final phase of the Crimson Strain project.”
A long, heavy silence followed.
Vikram finally spoke. “Where do we find him?”
Whitaker looked at them grimly. “Not where. When.”
He took a deep breath. “Voss is leaving for a global health summit in Geneva in two days. You want answers? That’s your window.”
Vikram exchanged glances with Evelyn and Ananya.
Geneva.
The next battleground in their war against the truth.
SURBHI SINHA