The Beijing conspiracy

by Adrian D'hage

  ‘Shall I check if he’s encrypted these as well?’

  Curtis nodded and Corey clicked on ‘London’. The file contained a series of documents, including diagrams of the Thames Water reticulation systems and locations of water treatment plants and maps of Trafalgar Square.

  ‘All open source stuff but when you put it all together it will be enough to put him away for the rest of his life,’ Kate observed.

  ‘In this country we send them to the electric chair.’

  ‘Barbaric and too good for him,’ Kate responded. ‘He should rot in jail.’

  Curtis leaned over and clicked open the folder marked ‘Travel’. It looks as if our friend is in Beijing,’ Curtis observed, opening a subfolder that showed confirmation of a departure the previous day.

  ‘Do you want me to bust in to “Duple”?’ Corey asked, a smile on his face.

  A short while later the complete accounts for Halliwell Pharmaceuticals were on the screen, but this time they were the real accounts.

  ‘Corey, you’re a genius, you can leave the rest with us,’ Curtis said, noticing a folder headed ‘Bolton’ towards the end of the library and not wanting the young man to be exposed to what a folder on the President might contain.

  ‘I get paid for this now,’ Corey said, giving Kate a grin and writing down a series of code words that would get Curtis back into the systems. ‘As long as you’re careful not to change anything they probably won’t notice you’ve been in there, although if Ferraro is the only one that opens some of these files, the date/time group for the last usage could alert him.’ With that Corey headed back towards the basement.

  ‘Jesus Christ!’ Curtis muttered. The bribes to the then Vice President Bolton ran into the tens of millions, all directed to a bank in the Bahamas. Curtis clicked on a subfolder headed ‘Meetings’ and opened the most recent file. The audio took a few seconds to spool up but the voices of Bolton and Richard Halliwell were unmistakable.

  CHAPTER 90

  CIA HEADQUARTERS, LANGLEY, VIRGINIA

  T om McNamara shook his head in disbelief after Curtis had shown him the bank accounts and played the tape of the conversation. In a career spanning nearly forty years, McNamara had seen President Nixon resign before he was impeached for criminal conduct and he’d seen Vice President Spiro Agnew resign over corruption. For McNamara, corruption in high office was nothing new, it had been going on since the dawn of time, but the sheer magnitude of the payments to Bolton made Nixon and Agnew look like amateurs.

  ‘Well, I suppose if you’re going to rob a bank, you might as well rob a big one,’ McNamara said cynically.

  ‘It’s not the bribes I’m worried about, Tom, it’s the conspiracy to attack the Chinese in Beijing and murder half the human race in the process. In a few days time, Beijing’s Capitol Airport will be handling more than eighty aircraft an hour. And at the end of the Games we might be faced with Ebolapox being transported to hundreds of thousands of cities and towns as people return home.’

  ‘Every time I think I’ve seen everything in politics, some power hungry asshole proves me wrong and from what Professor Sayed and Dr Braithwaite have told us, Dolinsky was a lot further down the track than we thought. Where’s Halliwell at the moment?’

  ‘Campaigning in Louisiana. Kate says he’s due back the day after tomorrow.’

  ‘And the Ebolapox?’

  ‘Ferraro alias al-Falid left for Beijing yesterday and although he wouldn’t be stupid enough to try and get vials of a deadly virus through an airport, or I hope he wouldn’t, I’ve scrambled one of our jets. Imran’s got some debriefing to do at the UN, so I’ve sent Braithwaite down to Atlanta to check it’s all still there in the Halliwell vaults. This is every bit as dangerous as you and I thought it would be.’

  ‘I think Imran’s right. We should shut this fucking Ebolapox program down immediately,’ Tom said, angry at the short-sightedness of those who’d refused to destroy the smallpox stocks when they’d had the chance. ‘Although that’s only half the problem. After we’ve arrested Halliwell, all hell’s going to break loose because it will just about sink the Republicans. Given wunderkind’s relationship with the President,’ Tom said, looking up towards the seventh floor, ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if they try and find a way of keeping this quiet until after the election. As for arresting the President…’

  ‘Impeachment?’

  ‘That’s what it will come down to, but can you imagine the impact of a trial in the Senate? Thanks to our “bomb now, ask questions later” foreign policy, not to mention the conviction in some quarters that God is on our side, somewhere in the world, someone burns one of our flags every day of the fucking week. I’m not one for covering up the stinking cesspits some of our politicians swim in, but if it ever comes out that the American President was part of a plot to poison half the world’s population, Islam versus the West will go into meltdown.’

  ‘I think you’re right,’ Curtis agreed. ‘The fact that he wasn’t President at the time is not going to save us, although I have a suggestion. Before you go up to the seventh floor and give them a chance to put the lid on this, there is one man on the Hill we can trust.’

  ‘Name him,’ Tom responded grumpily, ‘or is it a her?’

  Curtis grinned, ignoring the bait. ‘Professor Sayed is very good friends with the Speaker of the House.’

  ‘Didn’t you say Speaker Burton is Halliwell’s father-in-law?’

  ‘Even if his daughter is up to her neck in this, and I suspect she hasn’t the faintest idea what her psychopathic husband’s been up to, he wouldn’t flinch. More importantly, he might have an insight into how best to handle this. Davis Burton is a man of great principle and a Vietnam veteran.’

  Tom nodded. ‘I remember, Congressional Medal of Honour when his platoon bumped into 200 VC on a track in the jungle. Very cool under fire and effectively saved their lives.’ Tom McNamara looked thoughtful. It was a risk, but he’d been in that business all his life. Wunderkind could wait a little while longer. ‘Twenty-four hours long enough?’ was all he said.

  CHAPTER 91

  THE HOUSE SPEAKER’S OFFICE, CONGRESS, WASHINGTON DC

  R andy Baker’s ears pricked up as the young congressional page in the House Speaker’s Office watched the flurry of activity around the Speaker’s personal secretary. Appointments for meetings with some of the most powerful people in Washington were being rescheduled at very short notice and that could only mean something of importance. Baker was surprised when they introduced themselves. He’d never heard of a Professor Sayed or a Curtis O’Connor but in a moment they were hurried into the Speaker’s Office.

  ‘I must admit,’ Davis Burton said solemnly after Curtis had played the tape and briefed him on the possibility of a cover-up, ‘this is arguably the gravest constitutional crisis the United States has ever faced. And I mean no disrespect, gentlemen, but if you hadn’t brought that recording with you I would have found it hard to believe,’ he added. ‘Although it wouldn’t be the first time men in high office have been seduced by power and money.’

  ‘I think Tom McNamara and Curtis are right though, Davis,’ Imran responded. ‘I’m not one for covering things up either, but exposure of the President’s involvement in something the magnitude of the Beijing conspiracy would do immense harm, not only to the United States, but to other nations around the world. The economic implications would make the Wall Street crash of 1929 look like a small bump in the road and anti-western sentiment would explode. This is one of those rare occasions when disclosure is not in the public interest. The trouble is, Davis, if Bolton is impeached – and he clearly should be – I don’t see how you and your colleagues can prevent it from becoming public.’

  The great southern statesman was silent, wondering how he might deal with the crisis in a way that would best serve his nation and the wider world.

  ‘Not only that,’ Curtis added, ‘if I understand the impeachment process correctly, President Bolton would continue to act as Pres
ident until the Senate decides he’s guilty or they acquit him. We can’t just bowl in to the Oval Office and arrest the President.’

  ‘If this was not so real it would be the stuff of movies,’ Davis Burton said. ‘You’ve actually given me an idea. It will depend on whether I can get my colleagues on side. It will be important for them all to remain silent until we’re prepared to act. There is a little-known section of the Constitution that allows just one person in this country to arrest the President. But you’re right,’ he added, ‘it would be unwise to attempt that in the Oval Office.’

  It was a very risky strategy and one that could only be justified by the extraordinary circumstances that prevailed when a President or Vice President became involved in criminal activities.

  As soon as Burton’s visitors had left, Randy Baker became even more intrigued. All of the Speaker’s appointments were suddenly cancelled. Randy wandered down the corridor to find a quiet place to use the mobile phone his generous mentor had provided. He felt a surge of excitement. Politics was where it was at and he knew that this was going to be a very exciting career.

  As he was leaving, Curtis switched on his phone to find an alarming text from Kate. The vials of the deadly Ebolapox, together with those of the vaccines, had vanished and Dolinsky was nowhere to be found.

  CHAPTER 92

  HALLIWELL LABORATORIES, ATLANTA

  K ate Braithwaite turned on the decontamination shower and let the water run over her face plate and the rest of her biosuit. She felt sick but she forced herself to remain calm and resisted the urge to cut the shower short, kicking herself that she hadn’t raised the alarm earlier when she’d questioned Dr Dolinsky about why he was preparing so many vials of the virus, and why there had been a semi-commercial production run of the vaccine.

  Kate took the lift to the thirty-seventh floor and pressed the button beside the combination lock and swipe-card track. Neither she nor Imran had been given an access card that was programmed for Halliwell’s inner sanctum.

  ‘Can I help you?’ Simone Carstair’s voice sounded slurred.

  ‘It’s Kate Braithwaite.’ After an audible click, Kate pushed the heavy red door. Simone was not at her desk, but the door to Halliwell’s office was ajar. Simone was standing beside Halliwell’s desk with a large glass of whiskey in her hand, staring out at Stone Mountain.

  ‘Do you know where Dr Dolinsky is, Simone?’

  ‘No and I don’t care. Dolinsky hasn’t been around for the past two weeks,’ Simone said, swaying on her feet as she turned around. Kate realised she had been crying.

  ‘Are you alright?’ Kate asked. Simone Carstairs had not struck her as the type to give in to tears.

  ‘I will be, although I may not be around for much longer. I suspect I’m about to be replaced,’ Simone said thickly. The job application she had found in Richard’s drawer lay on the desk.

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that, Simone. Do you mind me asking why?’ asked Kate, surprised to find that Simone had been drinking heavily.

  ‘No, it will be public knowledge soon enough. Dr Halliwell has decided to replace me with a younger woman,’ Simone said, the alcohol loosening the grip she normally kept on her private life, ‘which is a bit rich after all the years I’ve given him here but that’s life on a rubber raft, honey. I told you he was a ruthless, ambitious bastard, I just didn’t think it would happen to me.’ She walked unsteadily towards Halliwell’s liquor cabinet and returned with the half empty bottle of Chivas.

  ‘Aren’t you going to fight?’ Kate asked, puzzled at the sudden change in demeanor of the fiery Simone.

  ‘I thought about it. I’ve got enough on that miserable, hypocritical prick to send him up the river four times over, but you know what? I’m over him.’ Her words were running into one another. ‘He’s a lousy fucking lover and if someone else wants to crawl over that prissy little wife of his when she becomes First Lady to get to him, then they’re welcome. I have myself quite a nice place in the Bahamas and I’m out of here.’

  Kate didn’t hear Simone’s diatribe. She was staring at the roof of the Halliwell Level 4 laboratories. Something wasn’t quite right, then she realised what it was. When viewed from the thirty-seventh floor the area of roof was considerably bigger than the area she and Imran had shared with Dolinsky; not only that, Kate could count twice the number of venting systems.

  ‘Is there more than one entrance to the Level 4 laboratories?’ Kate asked.

  ‘Why do you want to know?’ Simone asked, sobering up a little.

  Simone hadn’t denied it and Kate decided to probe further. ‘Can we sit down,’ she said, moving towards the leather lounge chairs. ‘Look, I know you’re upset at the moment,’ Kate began, ‘and I’m genuinely sorry to hear you might go but some of the programs that are running here are not all they seem. My colleagues and I think Richard Halliwell might be involved in some dangerous and illegal activities. If he is and you protect him, then your chances of getting to the Bahamas will be about zero. On the other hand, if you help us then you’ll be home free,’ Kate said, flashing her CIA badge.

  Simone stared out at the gathering dusk. ‘Why not,’ she said, retrieving the key to the lift from Halliwell’s still-open desk drawer. ‘I’ve always wondered what was down there but first I gotta go to the bathroom, honey.’

  It was amazing how alcohol could remove a veneer, Kate thought, as she punched in Curtis’ speed dial.

  ‘I can’t talk for long,’ she said. ‘I’m in Halliwell’s office. Simone’s legless but she’s about to show me a lift which I think leads to another lab at the back of the Level 4 complex.’

  ‘Where’s Halliwell?’

  ‘Not due back until the day after tomorrow, got to go,’ Kate said, not willing to risk Simone coming out of Halliwell’s private bathroom and finding her on the phone.

  Halliwell negotiated the steps to his private jet almost before they hit the tarmac of Atlanta’s Hartsfield-Jackson Airport and he strode over to his McLaren that the valet parking service had brought around to the front of the VIP terminal. As he sped back to his headquarters Halliwell’s mind was racing. In two days time he had planned to return to supervise the dispatch of the vials of Ebolapox and vaccines to Beijing, and a visit by Professor Sayed to the office of the Speaker in Washington would normally not have concerned him. Halliwell knew the two men shared the same flawed views against the war in Iraq, but for him to be accompanied by the CIA agent in charge of P LASMID, and for the Speaker to cancel his entire program as soon as they’d left had rung alarm bells. Halliwell had already decided that Dolinsky and that stuck-up bitch Braithwaite would be meeting with a nasty laboratory accident as soon as the vials of Ebolapox were aboard his jet and on their way to Beijing, but Halliwell needed to be sure they were still safe.

  It took Simone three attempts before she got the key in the lock but eventually the lift took them down to a small basement area where they were stopped by another heavy stainless steel door protected by a combination lock.

  ‘He changes his combinations on the first day of every month but he always uses the same series of numbers on all of the locks, so unless this is any different…’ Simone said, feeling for each button before she pushed it. ‘ Voila…’ The door swung aside, revealing the long tunnel to Halliwell’s private laboratories. At the far end of the tunnel, when they opened the second heavy door, Kate gasped as she was confronted with surroundings she was all too familiar with.

  ‘This is a Level 3 preparation area,’ she said, looking at Halliwell’s blue biosuit with its regulator and boots ready for use.

  ‘A what, honey?’

  ‘Never mind,’ Kate said, preparing to leave.

  ‘Don’t you want to see what’s on the other side of that door?’ Simone asked, pointing unsteadily to the airlock door marked with the international biohazard warning.

  ‘I’ve seen enough,’ Kate said, locking the door and guiding Simone back up the long tunnel they’d just come from.

  Richar
d Halliwell’s steely grey eyes narrowed as he saw the half-empty whiskey bottle and the open desk drawer. The key to the lift was gone. Halliwell unlocked the other drawer to his desk and took out the Luger pistol he kept there. He slipped it into his pocket and pressed the button for the lift, putting his ear to the doors. The lift mechanism was humming. Whoever was down there had left the key in the lock. Two minutes later he stepped out of the lift and into the tunnel to find Kate and Simone about 200 metres away, walking towards him.

  ‘Well, well, well, what do we have here?’ Halliwell sneered.

  Simone staggered to the side of the tunnel. Kate’s heart sank as she turned and looked back behind her. It was nearly 800 metres to the far door and on the other side was a hot lab. Halliwell’s slow and deliberate steps rang hollow on the concrete floor of the tunnel as his voice echoed off the walls.

  ‘You’ll be back there soon enough, I can promise you, Dr Braithwaite.’ Ignoring the sight of Simone slumped against the wall of the tunnel, Halliwell felt a surge of power as he got closer to Kate and another idea took shape.

  ‘Before I inject you with Ebolapox, you bitch, we’ll see what you look like naked and strapped to a trolley,’ he whispered under his breath. He could feel his erection hardening as he took the Luger from his pocket.

  CHAPTER 93

  HALLIWELL LABORATORIES, ATLANTA

  C urtis felt the pit of his stomach tighten as the white, unmarked CIA Learjet taxied to a halt beside the black Learjet 60 with the unmistakable gold ‘H’ on the tail fin. Could Halliwell have returned early? he wondered.

  Special Agent Rob Bauer, a rugged-looking veteran FBI operative Curtis had known and worked with for over twenty years, was waiting for him with a search warrant for Halliwell Tower and a warrant for Halliwell’s arrest.