by Haydn Jones
"Lunch will be ready in a short while, Rob. Come in and wash your hands please." Vicki shouted from the kitchen window.
“Thanks, love, I'll be there in a minute." McPherson removed his gloves and stretched his back that was beginning to ache after being bent over for more than an hour.
Having washed his hands Rob sat down at the kitchen table. Daniel was asleep in his bassinet, something he was doing more of lately.
"Junior is sleeping a lot lately isn't he?"
"Yes, I'm a bit worried about him, Rob. I think I'll take him to see a doctor. There's something not right with him. He's got no energy lately."
"I think he needs a dose of my crystal." Rob said jokingly.
"If you don't mind I think he needs to see a doctor. Hopefully, it's something simple like a virus."
"Yeah you're right," replied Rob... I'm sure the crystal would cure his ailments but I won't push it at the moment. Rob did not know of course that the crystal dictated the outcome of events, not him.
Vicki brought a piping hot Pizza straight from the oven and placed it on the table. Rob's thoughts immediately turned to food. "Oh my, just look at that," he enthused."The oven works well darling."
"It certainly does." Rob picked up the pizza cutter and started to slice the bubbling circle of deliciously hot cheese and peppers. He was ravenous after his hour of gardening and took an unusually large piece.
"Hungry are we?"
“Yes, I am… and I'm going to enjoy this." Just as he bit into the slice of pizza the phone rang.
"I'll get it," said Vicki. "You eat your food while it's hot." Vicki picked up the wall phone. "Hello, the McPherson residence... Oh...hi Colin…yes, he's here... yes of course. One moment please." Vicki passed the phone to Colin clearly unimpressed with another weekend intrusion.
"Thanks for coming, Rob. I'm sorry to spoil your family weekend but I can assure you it is of the highest priority." Hunter gestured to the leather chair in front of his large pedestal desk and McPherson sat down looking somewhat uncomfortable having rushed his lunch before driving the thirty-five or so miles to the Pentagon.
"What's happening Colin?”
"All hell’s let loose… I've just come from a meeting at the White House and believe me the President is fuming." McPherson soon forgot about his indigestion.
"Rob, North Korea is playing dirty. They insist on us removing all weapons from Israeli territory or they say they will go on a full war footing with the US with a threat of a strike on Israel if we do not comply."
"They are playing games again aren't they?" McPherson said quite coolly.
"Let’s just hope it's games." Hunter added. "When I was in Iraq, I saw things there that are burnt into my memory. Things I can't forget that should never have happened. These so called fighters are men who kill innocent women and children. Shoot them dead in the street in public. They have anger and hatred running through their veins. It's not just us they hate they hate their own people as well. Put Sunnis and Shias from Iraq in the same room together for ten minutes with one knife and there would be nobody left alive. And, all in the name of Allah. The world's gone fucking mad, Rob. Your old friend Shah has the same hatred running through his veins and we believe he's active in Pakistan. The President wants you to go there to oversee the intelligence operation."
"I'm a scientist not a detective. Do you remember what you said to me recently...This is not our problem," protested McPherson.
"Yes, I know, Rob but the situation has worsened since then and our options are limited. The President is convinced that your innate knowledge of this guy will help to root him out. He's clearly a very dangerous radical and we need to eliminate him."
"I hope you don't want me to do that."
"No of course not — but, I do need you to root him out."
"When?"
"Like yesterday. We're tracking their satellite conversations but they're clearly using some kind of code that we can't break. Unfortunately these six-century rag-heads are technically quite sophisticated. We need you there to break their code ASAP...We need to know what they're up to... We also need you to look at a laboratory in Karachi that the Pakistani authorities discovered late last night after a tip off. It was abandoned recently but we believe it was used by Shah to create nerve gas. The Brits are sending Professor Phelps from Porton Down to assist you over there."
"Is Shah supplying the North Koreans?" Rob asked.
"We don't know but we need to find out fucking quickly ...we really don't have much time. Get your ass to Pakistan young man. I need to get the President off my fucking back."
McPherson sat quietly for a few seconds and wondered what Vicki would say when he told her the news. He knew this wasn't a good time, especially as Daniel was not well. Oh by the way dear, while I'm there I'm going to visit a laboratory that is probably contaminated with a deadly nerve gas. No need to worry about me though I've got the crystal with me. I'm sure you'll cope without me for a while.
Hunter's voice broke through Rob's thoughts. "Here is the dossier on Shah. It also contains your travel documents. You fly out tomorrow morning." He passed a sealed folder marked 'PENTAGON CONFIDENTIAL' over the desk to McPherson.
Fait accompli, thought McPherson. I'm taking the crystal with me. I don't know why but I think I'm going to need it. "You'll have plenty of time to read it on the plane and ground intelligence assure me it’s as up to date as possible.”
McPherson stood up and walked towards the door.
“Oh, Rob, by the way, Linda has booked you into first-class.”
That will please Vicki, McPherson thought sarcastically. "One way, or round trip?”
Hunter smiled sympathetically. "I thought you might need the privacy"
"What I need is a bloody miracle.”
"Good luck, my friend......... For all our sakes."
Rob smiled back at Hunter, knowing his boss was under immense pressure, and then left with the folder under his arm.
Will this nightmare ever end?...Hunter thought......I need a drink. Opening a draw of his pedestal desk he took out a bottle of half full bourbon and a glass.
Forty-Nine
Previously at Shah's laboratory in Karachi.
Both canisters were now ready to receive the high pressure liquid that looked just like a weak blackcurrant juice, but there was nothing weak about this liquid. In fact it was the most toxic substance on Earth. Once inhaled as a gas it enters the victim’s blood stream within seconds. From there it quickly attacks the nervous system, shutting down the neural messages from the brain to the various organs. Within minutes the victim's bowels and bladder empty before the inevitable death brought about by asphyxiation. You try to breath but you can't. You can't even stand or speak, you simply collapse on the floor, paralyzed. You cannot even smell your own excrement that surrounds you because your olfactory system isn't working either. All you can do is die. If two drops of the liquid were allowed to evaporate in Carnegie Hall at a sellout concert, everybody inside would be dead within ten minutes. Lots more would die foolishly trying to save them.
Understandably, Shah was wearing a protective suit and pressurized helmet as he checked a number of connections. The transfer would take place automatically by a software control package running on a pedestal computer in the lab. Shah looked at the array of pipes one more time to reassure himself before sitting in front of a monitor on the desk next to him. The display showed a box which said in large red letters 'COMMENCE TRANSFER ?' Shah sensed his heart rate rise slightly as he hit the 'YES' option on the touch screen. 'TRANSFER SEQUENCE ACTIVATED' flashed on the screen and the mimic display started to change color as the various valves opened and closed in a programmed sequence. Twenty minutes later the transfer was complete and the two flasks were full. The display flashed the message 'TRANSFER COMPLETE.' Very carefully Shah disconnected the flasks from the rig, took off his pressurized mask and wiped the perspiration from his brow with the back of his hand. He then connected each canister to a plug that
fed the sensor information to the computer.
The readings immediately appeared on the screen for both canisters.
C1 LIQUID PRESSURE = 200psi LIQUID TEMPERATURE = -51 degrees C.
C2 LIQUID PRESSURE = 201psi LIQUID TEMPERATURE = -50 degrees C.
"Perfect," he said with a broad smile. Well done Hanif Mohammed Haseeb.
This place has served me well, Shah thought, looking around the once shabby unit that for a short-time at least had been transformed into a highly sophisticated laboratory, as good as any pharmaceutical giant could offer anywhere in the world. The huge transformation cost was irrelevant because it was necessary to achieve the ultimate goal. Tomorrow though it will be left abandoned having served its purpose admirably. Shah imagined the place swarming with men in protective suits and he laughed out loud. It will be too late you fools. There is no way of stopping me now.
Fifty
Rob McPherson was relaxing quietly in the first class cabin of the Emirates Boing 777 sipping a gin and tonic and reading with interest the dossier on Ahmed Shah. It would be another two hours before his flight arrived in Karachi, Pakistan, having just taken off from Dubai following a frustrating two hour layover.
As he read, it became obvious to McPherson that Shah was a very different person to the one he had spent so many enjoyable hours with at Cambridge when he was known as Habib. The happy go lucky young man that lived life to the full. What happened to turn this guy into a monster? McPherson thought. The confidential dossier detailed the countries and dates that Shah had visited in the last eight years along with a long list of terrorist activities he was believed to be involved with. Saudi Arabia and the Yemen clearly had something of interest to offer him. Radicalization no doubt...Why would such a brilliant mind believe in all that shit?... Extremism is a cancer of the soul.
McPherson opened the leather case next to him and took out the crystal. He couldn't explain why but it always made him feel better when he held it. He downed his drink and pressed the button to get the attention of the flight attendant.
Within seconds an attractive young flight attendant arrived at his chair. "Same again sir?"
"Yes, please." Finally he was beginning to relax for the first time in hours. Flying first class is a very enjoyable experience.
It was a good thing that McPherson didn't know what the future held in store for him.
Fifty-One
Sheridan Hotel and Towers Karachi
A few miles east of the US Embassy in Karachi the Sheridan Hotel, on Club Road, was busy as usual. It was the only five-star hotel in the city and boasted many guest facilities including a swimming pool and gymnasium. Linda Washington had booked McPherson into a luxurious club room on the ninth floor, described by the hotel as the epitome of luxury. With it came many extra facilities like the use of a business center, meeting rooms and a personal butler.
Rob McPherson's body was confused and he felt quite lethargic. After arriving from the airport by executive limousine he managed to get some sleep but breakfast, after a power shower, was a struggle, even though it looked appetizing enough he ate very little, choosing to drink black coffee instead in an effort to kickstart his weary brain. He'd managed to speak to Vicki by phone and she was clearly pleased to hear his voice. It made McPherson feel good when she said that she loved him and missed him and hoped he would be back home in Leesburg soon. He loved her and Daniel dearly... and he told her so.
The phone next to his king-size bed rang and he picked up the receiver. "McPherson speaking...thanks, send him up please, I'm expecting him.” Two minutes later there was a knock on McPherson's room door.
"Professor Phelps, it's good to see you again." McPherson shook his hand warmly.
“Likewise, my friend. Who'd have thought we'd meet again half way across the world?"
"Please come in. Can I get you a drink?"
“Scotch would be lovely."
"Double?" Professor Phelps didn't answer but smiled appreciatively.
"Please come through into the living room and make yourself comfortable."
"I wish my boss could see this room. My place feels like an abandoned YMCA." McPherson laughed and handed him a very large glass of single malt whiskey. "This might help."
“Christ... I'll be drunk before I start. Thank you young man." The professor sat down and sipped his drink. "Got a right telling off at the airport when I lit my pipe. I thought this place was third world."
“I'm afraid smoking has become a very anti-social thing Professor, no matter where you are in the world, especially a pipe. I’m not a smoker but I must admit I like the smell of a pipe.” McPherson sat down next to his guest and sipped a bottle of Coke… Same jacket with the pens in the top pocket. The bushy white beard and the nicotine stained mustache. "Have you been debriefed on the situation we find ourselves in?"
“Situation... Is that what you call it, Doctor?... I'm still completely confused. Do you mind telling me what the hell is happening and why I'm here?"
"You remember our last meeting in England, when I came to quiz you about Habib?"
"Yes, of course... I understand that he is the reason for us being here... but I don't understand why."
"Well, this man is causing a few problems to say the least. We know that he's been to North Korea recently and possibly he's the reason for the latest standoff with them and the US. We think he's selling knowledge to them that they can't get anywhere else."
"You're referring to nerve gas?"
“That's right, Professor. You and I need to visit a location in the city that the authorities found recently. They say it's a laboratory that was used to make nerve gas, but that hasn't been confirmed. They're leaving that to us. The place has been sealed and cordoned off. I'm expecting a visit from an agent in the next twenty minutes who will take us to the site. We need to know if it's been used to make nerve gas.”
"I doubt that very much. You'd need some very specialist and very expensive kit. Not the sort of thing you'd find in the middle of a ramshackle city like Karachi."
"Never underestimate the enemy, Professor.”
"No.......you're right, Doctor. I always remember a quotation by Victor Hugo when he said. On resiste a l'invasion des armees; on ne resiste pas a l'invasion des idees.”
"A stand can me made against invasion by an army… no stand can be made against invasion by an idea."
The Professor looked a little surprised. "You speak French, Doctor.”
"Un peu, Professor, et vous?"
"Yes, my wife was French. She was a remarkable woman who taught me a lot. Not only the beautiful language but she also introduced me to the works of Victor Hugo, Cezanne, French markets and of course… red wine, to name just a few delights." Phelps tapped his pipe on the palm of his hand and then blew twice into the mouthpiece.
McPherson knew exactly what he'd meant when he'd quoted Hugo. This place is not the US or Europe – this place is a world apart. A culture we don't understand and never will. A culture light-years from Washington. The terms of engagement are very different today. The enemy hides in the shadows dispersed like seeds on the wind but patiently waits like a hungry lion to pounce on it's prey and life...well...life is cheap. Who right who's wrong in this crazy world? McPherson pondered.
Sitting comfortably relaxed, Phelps was filling his favorite brier with a sweet dark tobacco mix that he bought regularly from a small tobacconist shop just off Oxford Street in London. One of a few specialist shops still in existence. "I need to think…therefore, I need to smoke, young man. I'm going out onto the balcony before it gets too hot." McPherson watched him for a brief moment. He liked this guy even though he didn't really know him very well. There was something about him that reminded McPherson of his father. It wasn't physical, he looked nothing like is father but maybe it was his attitude, his quite manner and his obvious intelligence. Maybe it was his mild confidence and the way he was at ease with himself.
As the professor lit his pipe on the large south-facing balcony th
ere was a knock on McPherson's room door. "Excuse me professor there's someone at the door." McPherson undid the security chain and opened the door.
"Doctor McPherson — Good morning, I'm Agent Stieger," the person facing him said, with a broad smile.
For a moment McPherson was lost for words. He wasn't expecting a beautiful dark haired six foot woman with almost azure blue eyes to be stood outside his room. “Yeah… good morning, Agent Stieger… Please come in."
The woman gracefully walked into the room and immediately noticed Phelps on the balcony. She took out an ID card from the back pocket of her jeans and showed it McPherson. "Never let anyone into your room until you've seen their ID Doctor, this is not America. Professor Phelps is here," she said.
"You know him?"
"Only from the file; he's very distinctive isn't he?"
"Yes..indeed he is. Let me introduce you."
