The Angels of Destiny (26 page)

The Ellington Building, Houston, Texas

It was Monday morning and the team was gathering in the control room for a meeting called by Hunter in an email to each member sent out on Sunday evening.

"What's going on?" Yuri Klyushin asked, to no one in particular, as he walked into the room.

"I expect we'll find out in the next few minutes," commented Walter Rottenburg. A few moments later Hunter, McPherson and Vicki walked into the room.

"Good morning, team. Is everyone here?"

"We're all here, sir," replied McPherson.

“
Okay
—
Ladies and gentlemen I'm sorry but I have bad news. I have to inform you that the President has decided to close down our project."

Moans from the team made the announcement harder for Hunter to keep his composure. "I understand your disappointment, I feel the same way. I'm told that the reasons for disbanding the work are based on increasing tensions between the US and North Korea and there is an immediate need for the satellites to be taken back by the military... The work we've been doing has been pioneering, successful and I'm sure you'll agree, rewarding. I would like to think that at sometime in the future we will once again come together, to finish what we weren't allowed to, because of circumstances outside of our control."

Hunter looked around the room at the disappointed faces staring at him.

"What about the signals we've received and the missing aliens. Surely they're interested in finding them?
”

"Good question, Walter. I don't know the answer to that. I can only assume there are issues that they believe are far more important in the current climate. The thinking is that they've gone back to wherever they came from, because nobody has seen them since their escape from the tank seven weeks ago."

"Now we'll never know where they came from," retorted Walter Rottenburg, sarcastically. McPherson just nodded sympathetically. "When do you intend to disband the team sir?" He asked, prompting Hunter.

"We have two weeks, Rob, after that we are out of here. I will need to speak to all of you on a one to one basis about your contracts and I intend to complete that exercise by the end of this week. Personally, it's a very sad time for me. As you know I handpicked this team because I wanted the best scientists in the world on this project and I was successful. I'm just sorry you weren't allowed the time to prove it. Thank you all for everything you've done, it has been a pleasure to work with each and every one of you." Hunter had to pause a moment to regain his composure. "On a brighter note I want to invite you all to my favourite restaurant for dinner one evening next week and I'm picking up the tab. Linda will be sending an email out with the details in the next few days. It will be our last social gathering together, so let
’
s enjoy it...Are there any questions?" Nobody responded, so Hunter thanked them all again and quickly left the room.

For a few moments there was silence and nobody moved, everyone looked bemused by the announcement, even McPherson who'd already been primed. The communal disappointment had brought the reality of the decision home to him with a bang and he looked as dejected as his colleagues.

"Rob, ask if anyone owns the pyramid?" Vicki said, trying to make light conversation.

"Yeah, good idea
—
Gentlemen... Can I have your attention for a moment please. On a slightly lighter note does anyone lay claim to this object?" McPherson held the pyramid up for all to see and held his breath....

"What is it?" Someone asked.

"It's a crystal pyramid. Probably a paper-weight.
”

Walter Rottenburg asked if he could hold it and McPherson reluctantly handed it to him.

"What a beautiful object it is."

"It's got magical powers. It heals people." Vicki said jokingly.

"If only that were true," responded Rottenburg, philosophically.

"If only," retorted Vicki, completely unaware of the deeper meaning to his comment.

"I assume that nobody owns this object, so I therefore stake my claim on it." McPherson stated. Rottenburg handed it back to McPherson who gladly accepted it. To give it away would have upset him but he didn't know why. He was happy to have it back and even though it was only a paperweight, he felt a kind of empathy with it that he couldn't explain.

One week later in Houston

Hunter had spared no expense for the dinner and the team were gathering at the 'Macon Rouge' restaurant off Westheimer and Kirby Drive. As they arrived he was there to greet them with a glass of champagne. The evening went well with a relaxed atmosphere. The French cuisine was exquisite and the conversion flowed as easily as the wine. Walter Rottenburg was sitting on Vicki's left and Robert to her right. Vicki had always liked Walter and he was proving to be good company. After a few glasses he'd relaxed and was really enjoying himself.

“
Walter, do you have any plans now that we're disbanding?" Vicki asked, topping up his wine glass.

"Oh... I've considered retirement you know. I've not been too well lately and it seems the obvious thing to do."

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize that."

"That's okay, Vicki, it wasn't common knowledge anyway, but tonight I'm celebrating."

"I hope you get well soon, Walter."

"Thank you but that's why I'm celebrating."

"I'm sorry, I don't understand."

"Vicki, do you believe in miracles?"

"I'm not sure, Walter, why?"

Walter leaned closer to Vicki and spoke quietly. "Three years ago I was diagnosed with prostate cancer. The doctors told me that it was terminal and that I had between five and ten years to live. This morning I went for a consultation with my specialist and he informed me that the cancer had gone; completely gone. I have no trace of it in my system and my vital organs are performing like a man half my age. I have never felt better in my life... How do you explain that, young lady?"

Vicki sat in total silence for a few moments just looking at Walter's smug smile. "That's wonderful news Walter, lets drink to that.
”
Vicki turned to Rob and smiled.

"Enjoying yourself, darling?" McPherson asked.

"I'm having a wonderful time, thank you. Do you still have that crystal, Rob?"

“
Yes, why? It's in my office."

"I'll tell you later."

Kabul University, Afghanistan

Hanif Mohammed Haseeb was sweating as he sat at his desk. He was expecting Shah at ten o'clock and it was now ten thirty-three. On the desk in front of him, the finished canister was covered with a white cotton sheet. He wiped the palms of his hands on his trousers before he stood up and aimlessly walked around his untidy office, tapping his hands behind his back. The phone rang and he quickly picked up the receiver. "Thank you, send him up please."

Moments later Shah walked in without knocking. "My friend, how are you?"

Haseeb looked irritated by the question and did not respond.

"I trust all went well with the manufacture?"

Again Haseeb didn't respond but walked over to the desk and pulled the cloth off, exposing the canister.

“
Well, well, that does look good." Shah picked up the stainless steel canister and inspected it in great detail. "I'm impressed, Haseeb, very impressed."

"I would appreciate it if you just took the unit and left."

"I will my friend, when I return next week to pick up the other unit."

"What other unit?" Haseeb looked aghast.

"I need two, and now you know how to make it, the other one will be easy won't it?"

"That was never the deal, you said one and I have delivered one."

Shah walked up to Haseeb and looked into his frightened eyes. "I will return in one week for the other unit. Do not let me or your family down my friend." He then walked out of the office leaving the canister on the desk.

Haseeb sank into his chair, holding his head in his hands.
This is not happening. It's just a bad dream. A very bad dream.

Two hours later Shah was back at his laboratory some six miles from the university. He was wearing a white body suite, gloves and a pressurized helmet as he carefully opened a valve. He watched as the dial on the diffraction column
’
s bourdon tube gauge slowly rose to thirty Bar. Clear liquid poured through a sight glass into a high pressure vessel and Shah smiled. He then isolated all the feed valves before setting the temperature at minus forty degrees Celsius. The laboratory mice in the cage next to him became restless as if they'd sensed there imminent death.
Nobody
had ever synthesized a liquid quite like this, it was clear and as a
liquid
, it was completely harmless.

The Ellington Building, Houston

Hunter looked across the table in silence at McPherson for some time.

"What's on your mind, Colin?"

"Rob, I want you to go to England. I've managed to arrange a visit for you to see a Professor Phelps at Porton Down."

"Who's he?"

"He's the man that your mate, Habib, aka Ahmed Shah, worked for."

"I thought he worked at Aldermaston"

“
Yes, he did, but only for a short while and then he transferred to Porton Down."

"Why do you want me to see him?"

"MI6 is now very interested in Shah, since your wife alerted us to the fact that he's still alive. Professor Phelps has information about him that could be crucial and we
’
ve been given the green light by MI6 to talk to him on site. You
’
ll have to sign the British Official Secrets Act and the conversation will be strictly off the record."

"When do you want me to go?
”

“
Tomorrow."

"Porton Down is all about chemical warfare isn't it?"

“
Yes, it is, that's why I want you to go tomorrow. You're a chemist, you can talk his language."

"It's not my specialist subject, Colin, but okay, if it's that important I'll go."

"Good; find out everything you can about this man. We need to find him before he does some real damage."

"Is he a real threat, Colin?"

"Intelligence suggests he's very active and playing a part in this North Korea thing. We need to find him quickly. If need be I might ask you to go to Pakistan at some point."

"Why Pakistan?"

"That's where most the communications are coming from and they're using code that we haven't managed to crack yet. We might need your expertise if our boys fail. I'm sure it's not as complicated as the alien stuff you're used to."

"If it is we have no chance...Are you going to tell Vicki or shall I?"

"I'll leave that to you, Rob."

“
Coward." McPherson said smiling, as he left the office knowing he needed to gather his things together. I'm taking the crystal with me.

Salisbury, England.

The digital alarm clock woke McPherson at seven o'clock. The sun was shining and it was going to be a pleasant day with highs of twenty-four degrees Celsius, light winds and a high pollen count, according to the BBC weatherman on the TV. McPherson still felt tired after the flight and the drive from Heathrow, even though he'd had a good night
’
s sleep. His body wasn't expecting food but the thought of an English breakfast appealed to him. The last time he'd eaten one was at university. Might not get the chance to enjoy real bacon again. After an invigorating power shower and shave he dressed and made his way down to the restaurant, feeling more alive. The irresistible smell of bacon and coffee filled the air as McPherson entered the sun lit conservatory restaurant. He was greeted by a smiling young lady wearing a classic black and white waitress dress.

"Good morning, sir. Table for one?"

"Hi, yes, table for one please."

"Follow me please." McPherson was shown to a window table by the young waitress.

"Lovely views of the gardens,"

"It's very pretty this time of year isn't it sir. I trust you slept well?"

"I did, thank you. I wasn't expecting a four poster bed. I felt like a king."

"They are a bit special those rooms aren't they? What would you like for breakfast?"

"A full English please. No sorry, I've changed my mind. Porridge and honey followed by bacon and poached eggs, black coffee and toast please."

"White or brown toast, sir?"

“
Brown, please."

"Thank you, sir. Can I have your room number please?"

"Room number seven."

"Thank you, your breakfast won't be long."

Removing a letter from his jacket pocket he read the instructions for the day ahead again. He would be picked up from the hotel at nine o'clock and driven to the Porton Down site. It was going to be an interesting meeting with Professor Phelps.

Porton Down, Salisbury. UK Government military scientific park.

Rob McPherson's taxi had arrived at the hotel on time and after a short journey he'd been dropped off outside the entrance to the Porton Down Scientific Park reception area. McPherson was traveling light, carrying only his favorite brown leather briefcase, an iPad and the crystal pyramid.

On entering the building he was greeted by a young receptionist who was sat behind a large desk.

"Good morning, sir, can I help you?"

"Yes, my name is Doctor Robert McPherson, I'm here to see Professor Phelps."

"Just one moment, sir." The secretary glanced at a hidden monitor below the desk. "I'll try to contact him. Your appointment is for nine-thirty.
”

“
Yes, that's correct."

The young girl rang a number and waited for a response. "Professor Phelps it's Charlotte here, I have Dr McPherson in reception for you
…
Okay, thank you
…
He will be with you in a few moments sir, please take a seat."

McPherson sat down on one of the chairs and tried to picture the Professor. A tall spectacled man with a bushy grey beard. He would have a tweed jacket with pens in the top pocket.

"Doctor McPherson?"

“
Yes
—
Professor Phelps?"

"Yes, pleased to meet you."

McPherson was looking at a tall spectacled man with a grey bushy beard and pens in the top pocket of his tweed jacket.

"Is there something wrong, Doctor?" The Professor asked, looking at McPherson's surprised expression.

"No, no...there's nothing wrong. I'm just a little jet lagged. Very nice to meet you Professor."

"I've booked a meeting room for our discussions, it's just over there to our right, please follow me."

McPherson followed him into a small room marked 'Meeting room number 1'

"Can I get you a drink, Doctor?"

"A coffee would be great, thank you."

"I'll be back shortly, please take a seat."

He's exactly as I imagined him to be. I saw him in my minds eye.

Moments later the professor returned. "Here we are, help yourself to sugar and milk." Professor Phelps placed a tray in the middle of the table that carried two plastic cups of steaming coffee and then sat down opposite McPherson.

"So I understand you were in university with Habib, at Cambridge, is that right?"

“
Yes, that
’
s right."

"I'm intrigued to know what you're after, Doctor. It's been a while now since his tragic death."

“
Yes, it has." McPherson decided to play along for a while. "The reason I'm here Professor is to find out what Habib did during his time here. I realize that the conversation is off the record.
”

“Yes, those are my terms, doctor. But I still don't understand why you need to know"

"Was Habib as good as Cambridge said he was?" McPherson asked.

"Oh yes....He was exceptional." The professor stroked his beard as he reminisced. "He was one of the brightness scientists I've ever had the pleasure of working with."

"Can you tell me what he was working on?"

“
He was working on a project to produce antidotes to chemical weapons." The Professor looked uneasy.

"You mean nerve gas?"

“
Yes.
”

"Any particular nerve gas?" McPherson was trying to tread carefully as the subject was obviously a sensitive one.

"What do you know about nerve gas, Doctor?"

"Very little, I'm afraid."

"Let me explain then." Professor Phelps stood up and moved to a chalk board on the otherwise plain wall picking up a piece of chalk. "There are two general forms of the gas, G and V. Both are organophosphates that block the neurotransmitter." As he explained he enthusiastically chalked the salient points on the board. "Specifically, nerve gas is a potent inhibitor of the enzyme acetylcholinesterase. The first gas was synthesized in Germany during the thirties, hence the prefix G. Then came Sarin classified as GB. It works on the nervous system, stopping the normal muscle function. The victims quite simply piss and shit themselves before dying from asphyxiation. A horrible death Doctor, I'm sure you'll agree."

“
Yes, it must be awful." Why do I know all this ?

"Then, if that wasn't enough, came the V class of nerve gas." The Professor was busily chalking on the board as if giving a lecture to a class of young undergraduates.
“
The V form was invented here at Porton Down, in the fifties. It is ten times more toxic than the G form and far more stable."

"Is it still made here sir?"

"My dear boy, nerve gas is classed as a weapon of mass destruction, UN resolution 687, 1991. Production was outlawed by the Chemical Weapons Convention of 1993."

"But that didn't take effect until 1997 did it." McPherson added. Where did that come from?

Phelps looked surprised, "Yes that's true."

"So Habib only worked on nerve gas antidotes, not nerve gas?"

The professor didn't answer his question and McPherson realized he was now on thin ice. It was necessary to rephrase the question. "Is it fair to say that to make an antidote you would also know how to make the gas itself?"

"Yes, I think that's a fair assumption, Doctor."

“
So, Habib has the knowledge to make nerve gas."

"Habib had the knowledge, Doctor. He's dead, remember."

“
Professor," McPherson paused..."Habib is not dead, he's very much alive."

"How wonderful... So why are you asking me all these questions and not him?"

"We think he's in Pakistan but it
’
s not good news because we know he's now an active terrorist. His death was faked so that he could practice his jihad calling incognito."

"Are you suggesting he's making nerve gas?" the Professor asked.

"We don't know. How easy is it to make, if you have the know-how?"

“
It
’
s not easy at all. You'd need a laboratory with some very specialist equipment indeed."

"We must assume that he would be able to obtain that equipment, Professor."

"Oh my god!
”