The Beijing conspiracy

by Adrian D'hage

  ‘I think Islam is under attack, Imran. President Harrison’s on the record as saying he’s on a mission from his Christian God and the Australian Prime Minister is backing him all the way.’

  ‘God’s entitled to be a little confused,’ Imran replied with a grin. ‘Were you ever religious?’

  ‘My father was and so was my ex. The President would get along very well with both of them,’ Kate said, shuddering at the memory of it all. ‘I agreed with your opinion piece. For me, religion is an accident of birth. If I’d been born in Baghdad, I’d probably be a Sunni or a Shiite or if I’d been born in Jerusalem I might be a Jew. Yet people like Jerry Buffett storm the airwaves claiming that if you’re not a Christian, when the Christian “rapture” comes around, you’re stuffed. What sort of a God would create six billion people, only to condemn most of them in the afterlife?’

  ‘You think there is an afterlife?’

  ‘I think there’s a force around us, and forgive me, Imran, but for me it’s not what the various religions call Yahweh or God or Allah…’

  Imran waved his hand with a deprecating smile to indicate that far from being offended, he was enjoying the depth of their friendship and conversation.

  ‘I don’t think you can immerse yourself in what you and I do, Imran, without giving some thought to the exquisitely intricate design of cells that can’t be seen by the naked eye. I don’t think the design of the universe is just some gigantic accident, which is what makes this threat from Kadeer so scary. If he ever harnessed the microscopic world I think it has the potential to destroy the human race.’

  Imran nodded. ‘It is hard to get that across to those in power. It underlines the need for negotiation more than ever. Did Curtis mention the Beijing Olympics?’

  ‘No, did he raise it with you?’

  ‘Only in passing. If I were going to mount a biological attack, the Games would be my first choice as a target because of the huge number of different nationalities the airlines are going to fly in and out.’

  ‘Thousands of those will be from Muslim nations, Imran.’

  ‘So were the workers in the Twin Towers,’ Imran replied, ‘but Curtis O’Connor may have a point. However much you and I disagree with trying to get something like smallpox to jump species, unless we try and find out what is possible, it might be too late.’

  For the next hour the two of them quietly talked about the deadly proposal. Save for a Georgian biochemist working in Koltsovo, no two scientists had more experience or more ability.

  ‘If it were anyone else, Imran, I doubt that I would have anything to do with this,’ Kate said finally. ‘I want you to know that, but I guess you’re right. They’re going to go ahead with this anyway and it’s better to be inside the tent. If this ever got into the hands of the terrorists…’ Kate let her words trail off before she took another sip of wine.

  ‘O’Connor wants to brief us tomorrow on what he thinks al-Qaeda might be able to achieve. Thank you,’ Imran added, taking her hand.

  Their eyes met and their hands lingered together.

  ‘Another time, another life,’ Imran whispered, conscious of their difference in age. Kate nodded, turning away to hide the tears in her eyes.

  CHAPTER 43

  CIA HEADQUARTERS, LANGLEY, VIRGINIA

  C urtis O’Connor opened Kate Braithwaite’s security file. It contained the results of the exhaustive checks that were required for her clearance to work at USAMRIID, and he read them with more than a passing interest. Dr Braithwaite’s scientific credentials were impeccable and her research was at the cutting and dangerous edge of microbiology. Looking at her photograph again, Curtis recalled how he had long ago drawn a boundary around himself. For a CIA agent affairs of the heart were a dangerous distraction

  The young scientist had been positively vetted and Curtis skipped over the thin reports on her financial affairs, unusually conscious that he was intruding into her private life. The reports on the FBI interviews of her referees however, including one from Professor Sayed, were something that he did need to know about, and they were all overwhelmingly positive, except one. Kate Braithwaite, Curtis discovered, had once been married to an up-and-coming Australian politician from the Liberal Party. It was an episode in her life that Kate had been completely honest about. The long reach of the US security system had gone into the US Embassy in Canberra and from there to the US Consulate in Martin Place in Sydney. Malcolm Braithwaite, the former President of the Young Liberals and now member of the NSW Legislative Council, had painted a scathing picture of his ex-wife, but the FBI’s man in Sydney had reached some skillful conclusions about the divorce. During the interview Malcolm Braithwaite had asked the FBI agent if he was a Christian, quoting the letter of the Apostle Paul to the Ephesians at him: ‘Just as Christ was the head of the church, a husband was the head of the wife.’ Braithwaite had let slip this was something that Kate had not been too keen on. Can’t imagine why, Curtis thought, smiling to himself as he closed the file and headed down to the entrance foyer to greet Kate and Professor Sayed.

  ‘I want to thank you both for your decision to come onboard,’ Curtis began. ‘I could not have hoped for two more qualified people to join me. For the duration of Operation P LASMID you will be sworn in as officers of the CIA. I also want you to know that I understand your concerns over this and for what it’s worth, I’ve opposed this from the very start,’ Curtis said, after Imran and Kate had settled into a small briefing room down the corridor from his office.

  ‘I owe you an apology,’ Kate responded. ‘I’ve discovered that my explanations on what can be done with polymerase chain reactions might have been a touch superfluous,’ she confessed, smiling sheepishly, then glancing at Imran.

  ‘I enjoyed the refresher,’ Curtis replied, his eyes twinkling. Kate found herself attracted to the irreverent Irishman. He was smart, seemed to have the same sensibilities, and was impossibly good looking; but she quickly reminded herself that this was not the time to be dropping her emotional guard and losing focus on the work ahead.

  ‘More importantly you helped me find something I missed.’ Curtis picked up a remote control and re-ran Dr Khalid Kadeer’s video threat of the first warning and the final attack.

  ‘It seems to me that “when the single strand meets its double” might be an indication he’s trying to engineer RNA and DNA viruses,’ Curtis said, switching on a PowerPoint presentation. ‘Operation P LASMID will involve a series of experiments that will be conducted in the Biosafety Level 4 laboratory suites at Halliwell Pharmaceuticals. The existence of these laboratories is classified top secret,’ he added, flashing up a screen display of the sprawling complex. ‘The Level 4 laboratories are here,’ he said, indicating the north-west corner of the Halliwell acreage. What went unnoticed by the three scientists was the number of super-heated exhaust vents – too many for the single laboratory to which Imran and Kate would be assigned.

  ‘While the program and its funding is being run out of my office, the actual experiments in the labs will be coordinated by the CEO of Halliwell,’ Curtis explained. The next image of Dr Richard Halliwell dominated the room. Kate was struck by his piercing yet emotionless eyes. Halliwell reminded her of Anthony Hopkins’ portrayal of Hannibal Lecter. Little did she know how close to reality her thoughts might be.

  ‘I’ll have more to say about Halliwell in a moment, and we’ll organise a meeting with him,’ Curtis added. He had already decided to bring the scientists into the loop of information he had on the Pharmaceutical CEO. In O’Connor’s world, Halliwell was a man they all needed to be very wary of. ‘For the moment, be aware that outwardly he may seem charming but he’s ruthless, political, and very well connected to the Vice President and the White House. Athough he’s cleared into the compartment I would be cautious about revealing too much of what is shared in this type of briefing,’ Curtis warned. He flicked to the next image of a huge intercontinental missile being readied for launch on a pad, vapour coming from various ducts in the no
se cone and around the engine cowlings.

  ‘Our mission is to try to discover what the terrorists might be able to achieve in the area of bioterrorism, and to that end, I’m starting with a worst case scenario and assuming that they may have had access to the Russian systems after the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991. This is a Russian intercontinental missile being readied for launch on the Kamcatka Poluostrov, a 1200-kilometre peninsula that jutts into the icy wastes of the Bering Sea and the Sea of Okhotsk, well to the north of Vladivostok.’

  Imran Sayed leaned forward in his chair, staring at the image of the Russian intercontinental missile. ‘They look like cooling fins,’ he said, staring at the rocket’s nose cone.

  ‘They are,’ Curtis replied, scrolling through successive imagery that had been obtained from the tracking satellites of the National Reconnaissance Office. The huge R-36M2 Voevoda intercontinental missile with a range of 16,000 kilometres was clearly visible on the launch pad.

  ‘Not only is the nose cone equipped with cooling fins but you can see here that it’s also connected to a large refrigeration system on the launch pad. These next images are of the launch itself and you can see as the launch progresses, the fins on the Voevoda nose cone start to glow red hot.’

  ‘Not your average nuclear warhead,’ Imran observed.

  ‘Exactly. Russian and US nuclear warheads are all engineered to withstand the extreme heat generated by a missile travelling through the earth’s atmosphere and that heat would kill any known virus, unless the nose cone contained an onboard refrigeration system that was fitted with fins that could dissipate the heat.’

  ‘All the hallmarks of a test for a biological launch,’ Imran offered, ‘but you’re not suggesting al-Qaeda are working on missile technology.’

  ‘They no doubt would if they could,’ Curtis observed wryly, ‘but unfortunately they may not need to. This imagery is only twelve months old and, if it ties in with some other intelligence, the Russians may be testing new forms of biological weapons. We have some recent information to indicate that a Georgian scientist, Dr Eduard Dolinsky, has been working with the Russians on the weaponising of smallpox, and he may also have been working on Ebola.’

  Imran let out a low whistle. ‘I know him,’ Imran said. ‘He’s one of the most talented virologists in the world.’

  ‘If Dolinsky has been working on the single strand of the RNA Ebola virus, as well as the double strands of the DNA smallpox virus, he may have been trying to engineer one into the other,’ Kate said, voicing her thoughts on the single strand/ double strand connundrum.

  Curtis nodded. ‘A super virus like Ebolapox would be easily transmitted, especially if it were released at an event like the Olympics. More importantly, there is no cure. By comparison, bird flu would be tame. Our task will be to try and emulate that engineering and produce a vaccine.’

  A silence fell over the room as Imran and Kate exchanged glances, horrified at the enormity of what they were being asked to do.

  ‘Just to add to this madness,’ Curtis continued, ‘everything on this program is obviously highly sensitive, but most sensitive of all is some unconfirmed intelligence that Dolinsky may wish to defect. If that comes off, he will join us on the program. He, like some of his illustrious predecessors, will no doubt bring us up to date on what the Russians have been up to, what al-Qaeda has acquired and what they might be able to achieve.’

  ‘You’re worried al-Qaeda might have access to the Russian research?’ Kate asked.

  ‘It’s possible,’ Curtis replied. ‘Thousands of Russian scientists were thrown out of work after the collapse of the Soviet Union and more than a few of them crossed the line into the dark zone just to survive.’

  ‘Are you going to try and get him out?’ Kate challenged with a smile, mischievously putting Curtis on the spot. Kate’s and Curtis’ eyes met for a moment and in an instant she knew she was right.

  ‘That’s another compartment,’ Curtis replied with an enigmatic grin. ‘If we can do it, it will bring another dimension of expertise to our team. In the meantime, your first task will be to move the smallpox repositories from the Centers for Disease Control to the Halliwell labs. I don’t need to tell you how dangerous that might be.’

  CHAPTER 44

  THE CENTERS FOR DISEASE CONTROL, ATLANTA, GEORGIA

  P rofessor Imran Sayed checked for traffic, and then he and Kate Braithwaite headed out of the hotel car park in Atlanta towards Clifton Highway and the Centers for Disease Control Headquarters.

  ‘God, it’s good to be away from the RID,’ Kate said, leaning her head against the headrest.

  Imran nodded. ‘Yep. Even though I don’t agree with what we’re about to do, I think if I’d stayed around Colonel Wassenberg for much longer I’d have finished up decking him.’

  ‘You’d have to get in line. Where do they find people like that Imran? USAMRIID SAH!’ she growled, whacking herself on her forehead, mimicking the pimply-faced Captain Crawshaw to a tee.

  Imran grinned. ‘You do that very well, Doctor Braithwaite,’ he said. ‘Are you sure you weren’t in the Army in a previous life?’

  ‘Sometimes I wonder about you, Imran,’ Kate replied with a grin. ‘For a talented scientist you come up with some very wacky theories!’

  Imran grinned. ‘I had a call from Curtis last night, wishing us all the best. He said Halliwell wants us to come to lunch in the boardroom next week, and don’t plan on doing anything in the hot lab afterward – Halliwell’s apparently got a very good cellar.’

  ‘Paid for by pharmaceuticals that cost ten times what they’re worth,’ Kate replied cynically, thinking back to the image of Halliwell. Something about the man had ‘warning’ written all over it.

  The pair fell into a relaxed silence, each wondering how they might best avoid a looming catastrophe over smallpox and Ebola.

  ‘I wonder how Maverick is,’ Kate said, as they drove up towards the Centers for Disease Control, the salmon and glass-walled Headquarters towering over an elegant Japanese garden at the entrance. ‘There are times when I look into those big sad eyes that I hope we fail on this one. Smallpox has never been able to infect the animal kingdom and I don’t think we should be giving it a helping hand, even if it might mean we get a vaccine out of it.’

  Professor Sayed nodded as he produced his pass for the security guard. ‘Although,’ he said, as they drove towards the car park next to the new maximum containment laboratories where the chimpanzees were kept, ‘given what’s happened in the last 24 hours, God knows what Kadeer will be up to next. If we can get Variola major to jump species at least you and I might be able to develop an antiviral drug. If we do, it won’t be the first time our predecessors have helped us out.’

  ‘Maybe, but getting this virus to jump species is a very big “if”, let alone engineering a super virus with something like Ebola,’ Kate replied, reflecting on the utter futility of it all and humankind’s bent for self-destruction.

  Building 18, the new $160 million laboratory complex at the Roy-bal Campus at the Centers for Disease Control in Atlanta, had been partially built into the side of a hill that adjoined the old six-storey maximum containment lab. It was close to the underground command centre that would be used during any outbreak of infectious disease or bioterrorist attack on the United States.

  Imran and Kate passed through the external security check and headed for the Level 4 laboratories where only a handful of people out of the Centers for Disease Control’s 9000 employees were trained and certified to work. Kate gave the guard at the desk a smile as they stopped at the final security point. In turn, they inserted their biometric smart cards and they each looked into the camera which photographed their irises. The iris was like a fingerprint but even more secure. The chances of two individuals having the same patterns were 1 in 10 ^ 78. That many zeros meant the patterns were about as close to unique as you could get. The light changed from red to green as the computer files matched Kate’s irises and Kate followed Imran throu
gh the security cubicle into the outer offices and equipment storage areas of one of the most secure laboratories in the world.

  The new Level 4 complex at CDC had been constructed meticulously. To minimise cracking, the concrete had been wet-cured for a very long time and then a special coating of sealant had been applied so that the floors, walls and ceilings were absolutely airtight. Like the new construction at Halliwell, the entire complex of filters, plumbing, decontamination and breathing systems and their backup redundancies had been exhaustively tested for six months before the laboratories were certified as safe. The designing engineers had even located any of the systems that might need maintenance outside the hot zone. There was no room for error. Once a laboratory went hot with Ebola, smallpox, Lassa Fever, Marburg, Botulinum toxin or any of the other twenty or so deadly viruses and bacteria for which there was no known cure, maintenance engineers would not get near the place.

  In her Level 3 cubicle, Kate stripped and put on a green surgical gown. She taped her latex gloves to the sleeves, put on some thin, green socks and plugged in some ear protection that would soften the harsh ‘rushing sound’ of the air that would continually cycle through her suit. She sat down on the bench and eased herself into her bright blue spacesuit. Then she stood up, closed the thick, clear plastic face shield which lock-sealed into place, plugged the air regulator into her suit and slung it over her shoulder. Kate shuffled out of her dressing cubicle towards the steel airlock door that was emblazoned with the four bright red concentric circles of the international biohazard symbol. Closing the door behind her, she moved through the decontamination shower room, then into another inner steel airlock where she found Imran waiting for her.