The Barrier

by Shankari Chandran

  ‘Yes – who supplied the equipment, who paid for it and who approved it,’ Noah replied. ‘If we can follow the money trail we can see who controls the lab.’

  Sahara looked at him closely. He had sad eyes too. And a deep scar on his brow bone. ‘I’ll look into it. If you need anything before we next meet, then just speak aloud in your room. I’ll hear you.’

  ‘Because you are omniscient?’ Noah raised his eyebrows.

  ‘No,’ she laughed. ‘Because I’ve bugged your room.’

  ‘That’s impossible. We jam any signals every time we enter the room. We sweep it six times a day just in case.’

  ‘And you do an excellent job. Garner is very thorough. Crawford too – don’t underestimate him just because he jokes around. It’s how he manages his fear.’

  ‘How could you possibly avoid detection?’ he asked, irritated.

  ‘I have better surveillance devices. Keep this with you. Hackman’s orders.’ She handed him a small disc. ‘Insert it behind the battery in your handheld. It lets me record whatever you’re hearing.’

  ‘We have our own gear for that.’

  ‘I know – but if you use my gear then I can hear in real time, instead of stealing the recordings from your portable server later. Garner and Crawford do actually sleep you know – although not together.’

  ‘Not for want of Crawford trying,’ Noah remarked.

  ‘Remember the disc – this war will be won by science, technology and pragmatic politics.’

  ‘Are we at war?’

  ‘We are always at war, it’s in our nature; in our DNA.’ She leaned over. Noah’s left hand reached for a side-arm that wasn’t there. His right hand lifted defensively but she gripped his wrist and pushed it back against his chest, before it came close to her. She was faster than him.

  ‘Good night Noah, I’ll see you soon.’ She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, surprising them both before she jumped out of the car.

  *

  Sahara ran the entire way back to her apartment. Once inside, she poured a glass of water from the jug of tap water she had boiled and cooled that morning. It wasn’t necessary – Japanese sanitation had taken care of all that – but it was an old habit.

  She reached underneath the sink to the back, where, wrapped in plastic and taped to the wall, was an encrypted satellite phone. She charged its battery regularly but never used it. As instructed, she sat with it on her kitchen table every Tuesday, 10.00 GMT for five minutes, staring at it.

  And then one day – after seven years of silence – Hackman had called.

  He asked to meet her at the Colombo airport and, after the outbreak, she’d been instructed to check in with him daily.

  She sat at the table and opened the file he had given her with the small suitcase. She had memorised Noah’s biography. His mission history interested her. They had overlapped once – here in Sri Lanka. There was the résumé of kills, not unlike her own. And a résumé of pain and loss. Even deeper than her own. There was a man at the end of his career, possibly his life. She understood that place. She inhabited it herself. It felt good not to be alone there anymore. She was surprised at how good.

  She dialled the numbers. ‘I’ve made contact.’

  ‘What do you think?’ Hackman replied.

  ‘He’s handsome in that deadened way that some agents have.’

  ‘What do you think?’ he asked again, ignoring her.

  ‘He’ll be fine. I can see why you chose him. He’ll build a rapport with Khan and connect with the old man’s grief. Will he be able to do the needful when the time comes?’

  ‘No doubt. I’ve seen him with other subjects who’ve lost more than Khan – he’s implacable. He just pulls out that weird cadaver sidekick and gets the job done.’

  ‘Maybe so, but you’ve sent him here for a different job. You need to give him time – both of them need time to trust each other.’

  ‘Did you hear about the protest?’ Hackman asked. ‘He hasn’t done that in a while.’

  ‘Maybe everything is finally catching up with him. Are you worried?’

  ‘No, but he might need more help this time.’

  ‘I suspect this time will be his last time.’ She flicked through his file.

  ‘That’s what they said about you in 2025 – and here we are.’

  It was Sahara’s turn to ignore him. ‘How was Rajasuriya after the protest?’

  ‘Pissed.’

  ‘Good. The security footage was impressive. He was outnumbered but oh so valiant. He has a weakness. I’m going to enjoy working with him.’ She smiled.

  ‘Everyone has a weakness. Watch out for him. I want him back.’

  ‘Sure . . . he wants to know about the lab. What would you like me to do?’

  ‘Just get him whatever he needs,’ Hackman replied. ‘I’ll speak to you tomorrow.’ The phone went silent.

  Chapter 16

  It was 6.23 pm in London. The sky was clouded over, casting grey moonlight through Hackman’s study window. He made another call to Sri Lanka on the satellite phone.

  ‘I read your report. This new vaccine he’s working on – are you sure it gave him immunity against Ebola 48.6?’

  ‘I’m positive. I saw transmission happen and I scanned his blood myself – repeatedly. It was clear,’ Noah answered.

  ‘Neeson made that variant especially for this job – he’s feeling usurped as the greatest virologist in his own mind. He wants a sample.’

  ‘Sure – would he like fries with that?’

  Hackman laughed. ‘I hear you met Sahara. She’s a good agent, you can trust her.’

  ‘If you say so. She mentioned she’s watching us.’

  ‘Everybody’s watching you. You’ll thank me later for her.’ Hackman scrolled through Noah’s report on his computer screen one last time and then closed the document. ‘For now, get closer to Khan. You know what to do. I’m sorry to ask you to use that.’

  ‘No, you’re not,’ Noah replied.

  ‘Okay, I’m not – I use everything.’ They’d known each other too long.

  ‘He’s protecting something that is more important to him than his own life. He is a zealot, even if we don’t know what his doctrine is. A zealot with a potential weapon. He will suspect you, even if he appears to like you. He will feel for your loss – and in turn you will feel for his loss. He will use this empathy against you, Noah. He will use it to throw you off the trail; to make you reluctant to pursue him; to make it impossible for you to kill him if required.’

  ‘I’ve never had a problem before.’

  ‘I know. Let him feel like he’s had to work hard to reach you,’ Hackman continued.

  ‘Don’t let him get into your head,’ Hackman repeated. ‘You get into his first.’

  ‘Got it,’ Noah replied.

  *

  Noah looked around his hotel room and briefly considered asking Crawford to sweep it again. There was no point if Sahara was telling the truth. Her technology was better than his. He should have raised that with Hackman.

  He sat down at the desk and turned the lamp on, directing its amber light onto the back of his handheld. He pulled out the contents of his trouser pocket, separating the disc from the chaff of other coins.

  Garner wouldn’t be happy with him, he thought as he opened the handheld and removed the battery. But none of them would disobey Hackman.

  According to department legend, over a decade ago, when Hackman was a senior and rapidly rising agent, he was placed in charge of the South Asian Sector – six of the hottest Eastern Alliance countries: India, Pakistan, Sri Lanka, Bangladesh, Nepal and Assam – the largest region ever assigned to an individual.

  Within two years, minor and then larger Immunity Shield breaches were detected in South Asia. An investigation detected that the breaches were linked to Hackman’s personal security system.

  It turned out that Hackman’s younger brother, who worked for the Bio-Weapons Development Division, had experienced something that was
understandable to everyone, except Hackman: a crisis of conscience.

  Apparently Hackman had asked for permission to arrest his brother himself. They met at the gym where they had learnt to box as children and where they still trained together three times a week. Most agents used the department gym with its biodata monitors and situational stress simulators, but not the Hackman brothers. They boxed. And after a session, no more aggressive than any of the thousands of others they’d had together, they sat in the locker room, side by side.

  Hackman told his younger brother what he had learned from several months of surveillance – that his brother had infiltrated Hackman’s computer and found out about the department’s Sixth Virus Eradication Policy, and he had passed documents onto one person at the Christian Coalition who had passed it on to two more people there.

  Hackman didn’t tell his brother that these three would be arrested shortly, taken to a secure location and interrogated to find out if they had released the information more widely. Then they would be executed. It would be a fast, clean operation.

  The younger brother listened, and according to the classified recording of the event, he wept. He didn’t apologise. He knew his brother better than that.

  Noah remembered the transcript too clearly. He had never read a confession statement like it before or ever again.

  Hackman’s brother had said, ‘I can rationalise using the virus as a weapon – if we don’t, someone else will,’ the younger man said, his voice shaking. ‘I have nightmares – I see the faces of people who’ve died because of my work. I’m okay about that; I’m prepared to lose sleep so others can live.’ He paused and the transcript noted that he had struggled to control his tears before continuing.

  ‘But you – using the vaccine to control how others live; how they believe, or don’t believe. People lining up with their children – thinking we are saving their lives.

  ‘What you’ve taken away from them . . . No matter how much we fear them or hate them or blame them for the war, what you’ve done to them . . . It’s wrong, Mikey,’ he whispered. ‘God help you. God help them, it’s wrong.’

  Hackman put his arms around his brother and kissed him on the cheek. He held his face to his chest and wiped his tears.

  What happened next was a cautionary tale for Noah and anyone who dared to betray Hackman.

  He looked up once at the small camera that had been inserted into the fire alarm across from them. Then he closed his eyes and with one sharp movement he snapped his little brother’s neck.

  A few years later, Hackman was promoted. He became the youngest director of Bio.

  Noah replaced the battery over the surveillance disc and snapped the cover of the handheld back into place.

  *

  Hackman put the satellite phone away in its secure suitcase.

  The door burst open, startling him. Three children ran in, laughing. They were in their pyjamas and smelled like Dove soap.

  ‘Sorry, darling.’ His wife wiped her hands on the tea towel slung over her shoulder. ‘I hope they didn’t disturb anything important.’

  ‘No, but I have one more call to make – and then I’ll join you for the movie. What have you chosen?’

  ‘The Goonies!’ screamed the youngest, pushing his way onto Hackman’s lap.

  ‘How do you even know about The Goonies? That must be forty years old.’ He stood up and carried the child with him, tipping him upside down as though shaking him for change.

  ‘Daddy, Daddy,’ the boy laughed.

  ‘I’m studying the classics,’ a lanky teenager replied. ‘It’s fifty-five years old – like you.’

  ‘Daddy’s not old – he’s mature, like a fine wine,’ his wife defended him.

  ‘Daddy doesn’t drink,’ the upside-down child squealed.

  ‘Quite right, it dulls the senses. Unlike The Goonies, which always makes me laugh.’ He flipped the boy upright and pushed his family out the door.

  ‘Just one more call.’ He gave his wife a quick kiss on the lips, locked the door behind them and picked up the phone.

  ‘I need a clean line.’ His voice slipped back into the tone he preferred. ‘The US,’ he waited for the familiar connection to another line and then dialled the number.

  ‘Good afternoon, Mr Sutherland,’ he said. ‘Are you enjoying the holiday season?’

  ‘I am, although I can’t seem to tear myself away from the Bloomberg channel. My wife tells me it’s my porn.’

  Hackman laughed politely. ‘It could be worse.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose – I could be naked, rubbing baby oil onto my remote control.’

  ‘Thank you for that visual, I’m about to watch a movie with my kids. Did you read the report I sent you?’ Hackman had been waiting for a response for over a week.

  ‘I did. I admire your audacity. You’ve got some nerve,’ Sutherland said. Hackman could hear him flicking through television channels.

  ‘Thank you. We had a stroke of luck – we’d been watching Hassan Ali for a while.’

  ‘Because you thought he was an anti-vaxxer?’

  ‘He’d started saying things at conferences. It sent up a red flag so we put him on our watchlist.’

  ‘That list must be growing,’ Sutherland replied, his voice a little more focused.

  ‘Yes, on both sides of the Alliance.’

  ‘Anti-vaxxers on our side of the divide really piss me off, Hackman. They seem to have forgotten the stench of shit in the streets. Ebola has been eradicated because of the Global Vaccination Programme – if you stop vaccinating, Ebola returns. These stupid fuckers want to bite the hand that inoculated them. If I read one more letter from “A concerned parent” I’m going to take my rifle down to a community hall and shoot some bleeding hearts straight through their bleeding heart. I’ll violate their right to conscientiously object, using my right to bear arms. How do you like that?’

  ‘I think I like that just fine,’ Hackman replied.

  ‘The decoy vaccine this Hassan Ali was using – that’s a Muslim name right? It’s always the Muslims. Is that impolite of me to say? But it is always them, isn’t it? I still think you should have dropped a bomb on them back then – finished the Middle East, Afghanistan and Pakistan once and for all. You know you would have done that if you weren’t so castrated by human rights conventions. That’s why I love the corporate sector.’

  ‘I’m sure history will prove you correct, sir,’ Hackman replied.

  ‘It usually does. So thanks to this decoy vaccine we have population sets running around the Eastern Alliance who are susceptible to both Ebola and a belief in God. I’m a God-loving, Ebola-fearing man Hackman, but I don’t know what’s worse.’

  ‘Quite, sir.’

  ‘What did you do with the Mus– the anti-vaxxer? Hassan Ali? I hope you punished him for his efforts to undermine the Immunity Shield.’

  ‘We took care of it.’

  ‘Good. I see you’ve sent a man to Sri Lanka in search of this elusive ghost. Can we trust him?’

  ‘Of course I trust him.’

  ‘I just mean, is he the right man for the job? He’s a little damaged, isn’t he? When did his daughter die?’

  ‘It’s been two years. We want him to be damaged – if he was fully functional he’d pull that place apart. He’s coming to the end of his . . . professional life. I wouldn’t have sent him if I didn’t think he was right for the job – you know me better than that.’

  ‘You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s just those damn anti-vaxxers, they put me in a mood. My wife says I need to let it go. But we all worked so hard to crush Ebola. It was a plague sent to test our resolve – and then these people with more sensationalist concerns than robust science are giving us a bad name, forgetting that we fought a war against the virus. We lost people but with God’s angels at our side we won the war. There’s no way I’m going to lose the peace.’

  ‘No, sir,’ Hackman looked at his watch. He’d heard all of this before.

  ‘Do you belie
ve in God, Hackman?’

  Hackman stifled a sigh. ‘No, sir. I believe in the security of the nation and the inherent strength and weakness of mankind. I’m an orthodox American.’

  ‘You are that indeed. Our country needs men like us both – you protect it and I make it strong and healthy.’

  You mean profitable, thought Hackman. I protect this country – with men like you and from men like you, if necessary.

  ‘You’ve been working hard,’ the older man said.

  ‘As have you, sir – your energy and commitment is inspiring.’

  ‘The Lord gave me two hands and only one life with which to make a difference,’ Sutherland said.

  ‘I’m sure the Lord wishes the rest of us were more dedicated.’

  ‘The Lord loves us all – the believers, the workers, the sinners and even the non-believers like your good self, Hackman. He’ll bring you to His bosom one way or the other.’

  He could hear Sutherland smiling. Perhaps he’d found the Bloomberg channel. It had been another good day for the biotechs.

  ‘And the breach in Sri Lanka,’ Sutherland asked. ‘Has it been fully contained?’

  ‘Completely. The Sri Lankans implemented the containment protocols quickly. Deaths were minimal and easily obfuscated.’

  ‘I suspect a lot of things in Sri Lanka are easily obfuscated. It’s a good place to do business. That president knows what he wants.’

  ‘He does and he always seems to get it from one of us.’ Hackman swept the files on his desk into a pile and began the security sequence to open the cupboard under his desk.

  ‘Not losing your joie de vivre I hope?’

  ‘Not at all – I’m still joyous about life even if I’m not religious.’

  ‘As I said, the Lord will bring you to His bosom one way or another.’

  ‘Will you be joining us in London for the meeting next week?’ Hackman asked. ‘Neeson has made progress with the new vaccine thanks to your lab upgrade. He’s like a kid in a candy store.’

  ‘He deserves it. He’s a patriot and a believer. I’ll be at the meeting. Abre de Libre and Bio have had a productive year together – we should celebrate and set some goals for the future. What do you think?’