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Authors: Russell Blake

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Upon A Pale Horse (38 page)

BOOK: Upon A Pale Horse
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“Mr. President. Edgar indicated we have a situation?”

“That’s putting it mildly. The Russian ambassador just handed me a report from the French, detailing a new virus that they’re claiming was developed in an American bio-weapons lab.”

“That’s impossible. There is no such thing.”

“I know that, and I know you’re telling me that, but in about five minutes you’re going to be getting a document that the Russians are saying leads straight to us.”

“It’s got to be some kind of a head fake. A plant. Some sort of negotiating ploy. What do they want?”

“Their prime minister is calling in…eight minutes. So we’ll see. The ambassador didn’t articulate any demands. And he didn’t seem like his usual self. I don’t get the sense they’re bluffing on this. He looks like he saw a ghost.”

“I’ll look for it and get my top people on it. Is there anything else, sir?”

“I want the full court press. And no bullshit, Morrell. No ‘need to know.’ On this one, I need to know everything.”

The president hung up and then looked at Edgar bleakly. “Cancel everything I have planned for today. Now.”

“But, sir. We can’t behave rashly. It would send signals, and then we’ll be inundated with questions from the press…”

“Then cancel the next two hours. Move things around. Something came up. Whatever you need to tell them. But I want the Joint Chiefs convened within the hour, and a full briefing from CDC and CIA. Get the report to everyone. And, Edgar – give me a minute, and then send the ambassador back in.”

Edgar nodded and hurried from the room. The president stood and paced in front of his desk. After a half minute of this, he stopped and extracted a tissue from his pocket and blotted a single bead of sweat that had run from his hairline down his left temple. Ordinarily glacially calm, he was anxious. The most powerful man alive, and he was worried.

When the ambassador and Edgar returned, he was back behind his desk.

“You may tell your prime minister that I will accept his call. In the meanwhile, I need some privacy, please,” he said, and the Russian nodded before ducking back into the outer office.

The director of the CDC was on the line by the time the door closed behind him, Edgar standing nearby.

The conversation lasted sixty seconds. By the time it was over, the president’s complexion was gray. Edgar and he had a hasty murmured discussion, and then the phone rang again. His assistant announced the Russian leader on line two.

The president pushed the blinking button and the call went live.

“Mr. Prime Minister. Your ambassador just presented me with the most remarkable document. I frankly have no idea what to make of it, but I’m having my top experts look it over now,” the president began, affecting a neutral tone.

“Yes, please do that. My experts have had the document for half a day. I have verified with the French that it’s genuine. A global calamity in the making.”

“I agree. But I need to understand more about it before I can comment further.”

“Mr. President, we have our differences, but I must inform you that my country is taking this threat most seriously. So seriously that I am calling to put you on notice. I have been instructed to convey to you that we will consider the first sign that this virus has made it into the world an act of war, as though your country had launched its nuclear arsenal. And the moment we hear of this, we will be forced to retaliate.”

The president looked at Edgar and then lifted the handset, shutting off the speakerphone.

“Anatoly. Please. Don’t be rash. I have no idea what this is all about.”

“Perhaps, Mr. President, but I have said what my government has instructed me to say, so you have our official position. The introduction of this virus will be viewed as a hostile act, to be met with the full weight of the Russian strategic response capability. I’ve looked at the numbers, and most of my country will be dead within weeks of its appearance anyway. This way, you can rest assured that we will all be in the same boat, as the saying goes.”

“I…these are impossible allegations. I can assure you that we are not the creators of this…this abomination. There’s been some sort of a mistake.”

“If there has, then neither of us has anything to worry about. You are now aware of my country’s position. I pray for the future of mankind that you are being forthright with me, Mr. President. This is not a negotiable condition. If the virus appears, it is mutually assured destruction.”

“This is an error, Anatoly. I urge you to reconsider. There are some things that can’t be undone. The damage from creating a confrontation of this magnitude could be permanent. You’re going down an extremely dangerous road.”

“I am fully aware of the path I am on, Mr. President. It appears that you are the one in need of a map. I hope that you’re able to get to the bottom of this, wherever it has come from, because if not, we’re all doomed. Read the report, talk to your experts, as I have spoken to mine. You’ll soon understand why our reaction is this…severe. I will keep our communications open, but there is no discussion about our reaction to the virus being released. Please be clear on that, Mr. President, with all respect.”

When the president terminated the call, the Oval Office was silent. Edgar’s cell rang. He answered, then lowered the phone, looking chagrined.

“The Chinese want an immediate meeting. So does the Indian ambassador.”

“Damn it, Edgar. Figure out what the hell is going on here, and quick, or there isn’t going to be a tomorrow. Tell the ambassadors that I will see them, but buy me an hour, and convene a crisis meeting immediately. I need answers, and I need them yesterday. I just had the leader of the largest nuclear power besides ourselves tell me he was preparing to launch if this virus makes it into the world. They aren’t even asking for anything. Just warning us. I don’t think that’s ever happened before. Not during my lifetime.”

“We need to go onto heightened alert, as well, Mr. President. In response to their elevated status.”

The president nodded wearily. “I know the drill. Make it so. And get everyone together. I suspect we’re about to discover that India and China are also agitated about the same thing. Let’s just hope that by the end of the day we don’t have the entire world turned against us. Because that’s the way it’s starting to look. And for something we didn’t even do.”

Edgar’s phone trilled again. “It’s the British, sir. The prime minister wants to speak to you in fifteen minutes.”

 

FORTY-FIVE

Damage Control

Thorn was badly shaken from his round-the-clock meetings in Langley, and it was all he could do to manage a quick flight from Washington to New York to see Barker in person in the wee hours of the morning. As the brains behind the virus effort, Barker was the one who would need to understand the catastrophe that had taken place, and it was he who would have to take immediate action. Anything but a complete cancellation of the scheme was a guarantee of nuclear annihilation, and therefore suicide now. A perfect plan had been destroyed; and the worst part was, he wasn’t completely sure how.

Barker agreed to see him at his penthouse in Manhattan, and when Thorn arrived at six a.m. he was shown straight in. Thorn looked like he’d been beaten with a board; whereas Barker, in typical fashion, exuded the healthy glow of the mega-rich, their longevity assured by the best attention money could buy, their sleek, toned, and tucked features those of an elite race, elevated beyond the mere mortals who occupied the lowly gutters of the world. Most of the disparity had to do with the fact Thorn hadn’t slept in twenty-four hours, and that he’d fortified himself for the pre-dawn flight with a double brandy that was now making its residual presence known. Acid bile threatened to gag him as he sat across from Barker, who was sipping a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice and munching on pineapple chunks.

“Tell me what the hell happened,” he demanded, his voice low, the cook in the small service room off the kitchen and his housekeeper somewhere in the depths of the cavernous penthouse.

“I gave you as much detail as I had over the phone. It’s a disaster. Basically, every country we’ve spoken with, including our allies, is saying the same thing. If this virus is released, we’re going to be a glowing crater. Nobody’s buying that it’s all a big misunderstanding. The report is pretty clear that only a major technological and financial effort could have produced this virus. And frankly, the attached data sheets are sophisticated as anything anyone’s found. I don’t think we have any choice but to abort.”

Barker sighed, then nodded. “How? How did it leak?”

“Obviously the analyst had gotten hold of the data and made arrangements for the Pasteur scientists to analyze it. Even in death, the bastard managed to screw us.”

“Are we sure it was him?”

“There’s nobody else. Everyone in the group, in the program, you name it, is a hundred and ten percent loyal and trustworthy. Plus, no one of them had nearly all the data. No, this was a concerted effort, which I suppose we should have foreseen. It’s probably by the grace of God that we didn’t release the virus and then discover, too late, that every country with a nuke would launch in retaliation. Think about it. One more week and it would have been too late to stop this.”

“At great expense, I might add. We’ll have to destroy any flu vaccines we manufactured that contain the virus. But that’s fine. A sunk cost. We’ll invent some pretext to delay the flu shots a couple of weeks,” Barker said, thinking out loud.

A thought occurred to him, and he stared hard at Thorn. “You look like hell.”

“Thanks. I feel like it, too.”

“Could the brother have had anything to do with this?”

“No. We’ve been all over him. No chance.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive. But if you like, we can terminate him. Just for good measure.”

Barker cleared his throat, pensive. “Do you want some of my miracle coffee? You know how good it is.”

“I was hoping you’d offer.”

Barker pressed a small button on a wireless intercom on the table and spoke into it. “Two cups of java. You like cream and sugar?”

“Sure. Two sugars. A dollop of cream.”

“You heard him. My usual for me.” He released the button and gazed out at the Manhattan skyline, breathtaking from his lofty perch. “Eliminating the brother is closing the barn door, no? Sort of pointless now, I would think.”

“I’m just throwing possibilities out there.”

“I’d say it’s time to concentrate on salvaging what we can, and focus on the future. We have other options. Perhaps not as elegant or quite ready, but still, options. I won’t be denied the culmination of a life’s work by one setback. Tomorrow’s another day.” Barker shifted in his seat. “Run interference, ensure any investigation goes nowhere. You know what to do. If there’s a congressional hearing that we can’t quash, stonewall. The usual. Since nothing actually happened, I don’t think we’ll need a fall guy this go-round. In fact, you can probably twist the whole thing to the Agency’s advantage.”

“I’ll think of something.”

The coffee arrived, and the cook scuttled away after placing a silver serving tray on the table.

“I’m sure you will. Have no fear. This isn’t over. It’s just an intermission. A temporary glitch. A resilient man bounces back from his lowest low to hit an even higher high. Which we will,” Barker said.

Both men sipped their dark roast, marveling as always at the flavor profile, appreciation on both their faces as they contemplated the next inning, and what they would do differently next time.

Jeffrey waited outside the hotel for the taxi that would take him to the Charles de Gaulle airport. Then home, to Washington. Although he realized that nothing he had back there even resembled a home – his brother’s condo, a job that was a sham, a relationship that was a lie.

It had been ten days since Bertrand had sent the report to Kaycee, and Jeffrey had spoken with her a dozen times since then as she’d updated him on her progress. She’d succeeded in getting it to the Chinese and the Indians, and the French had slipped it to the Russians and the British. That had been more than a week ago.

BOOK: Upon A Pale Horse
2.59Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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