Outskirts Press, INC.

Biotechnology plus dirty tricks equal murder!

Microbiologist Alex Kertész has developed a commercially valuable strain of bacteria in his laboratory at the University of Jerusalem. When a small French company acquires the rights to the organism a working visit by Alex is part of the deal. Alex arrives in Toulouse expecting the visit to be a waste of everybody's time. He doesn't expect to find himself about as welcome as bubonic plague or to have the equipment blow up in his face. Alex finds himself at the center of Agrogenie's problems, and it's a dangerous place to be. With an international cast of characters and a background ranging from the laboratory on the outskirts of Toulouse to Picturesque Carcassonne and a trackless mountainside in the Pyrenees, Alex's problem-solving skills are tested in an arena far removed from the laboratory.

King Tut’s tomb, when it was still occupied by King Tut and not hordes of tourists, couldn't have been more oppressively silent than the deserted building. For no particular reason he turned to his right on leaving the laboratory, in the direction of the fermentation room and production area. The building wasn't completely silent after all, he realized as he approached the fermentation room. The muffled sounds coming through the closed door indicated that the unit was working full blast. But he had seen Jean Claude and his crew leave the building at five.

He opened the door to Armageddon. He was assaulted by a wave of heat and a deafening roar punctuated by the clash of metal against metal. Red lights flashed their warning through the swirling vapor.

He stepped into the room and fumbled for a light switch on the wall to the right of the door. Even at that distance he could feel that the heat emanated from the two towering metal fermenters. Wisps of steam floated up from the joints of the piping connecting them with the sterilization tanks.

The roar came from the huge centrifuges, spinning at maximum speed. The metallic clashes meant that no careful technician had adjusted them for the run. They would soon self-destruct this way, with heavy steel pieces flying all over the place. In the background were the bubbling sounds from the fermenters, like soup simmering in a gigantic kettle. The whole unit was a disaster area. His instinct was to leave as fast as possible.