The Bleiberg Project (Consortium Thriller)

by David Khara

  “In reality, the problem is knowing where to look. I got a lucky break when a particular incident came to my attention. The NSDAP received funds from various private sources, mostly businessmen. But there was an exception. Several million dollars had been channeled through a Spanish bank. Of all the documents I traced, only one mentioned that transfer. I crosschecked against Hitler’s schedule of meetings and rallies. There was no obvious link to Spain, save for what I found in the visitors’ book at Landsberg Prison, where Hitler was incarcerated after his failed putsch. The prison administration proved exceedingly lax with this particular prisoner but kept a complete record of his visitors. A name caught my attention. Adamet.”

  “Why that name?” asked Jeremy.

  “It sounds Basque, doesn’t it?” offered Eytan.

  “Quite. It certainly stood out among all the Germanic names. Once more, after long and painstaking research, the lead took me to Adamet Epartxegui, the director of a regional bank in Bilbao from 1928 to 1936, when he left Spain to settle in Argentina.”

  Eytan racked his brain. The Argentinean tags on the car driven by Jeremy’s attackers in Manhattan; A.E., the initials in Delmar’s notes. Adamet Epartxegui. The pieces of the puzzle were falling into place.

  “Why Argentina?” Jeremy looked like an enraptured student firing questions at the professor.

  Eytan sighed loudly. “During the Spanish Civil War, a lot of Basques emigrated to the Americas. And they had strong historical links with Argentina. Now shut up and let the gentleman speak, OK?”

  “I was just asking. How do you know all that?”

  “Basque Country, ETA, terrorism, Mossad. Do you need me to spell it out?” Jeremy fell silent.

  “Where was I? Oh yes. When he reached South America, Epartxegui simply vanished for eight years. He resurfaced in 1945 as the boss of a pharmaceutical company, Bleiberg Chemical Incorporated, which soon became BCI to keep the name Bleiberg off any official document. The capital came from all over—France, Japan, Britain, the United States. Millions of U.S. dollars, which was big money back then. The demand for drugs in the post-war years meant exponential growth and profits for the whole pharmaceutical industry. Governments all over the world placed orders with BCI. Soon the company was working with some very prestigious names. You’ve heard of them.”

  Eytan felt his stomach lurch. His voice felt like it was coming from outside his body, against his will. “Mengele, Eichmann, Kipp…”

  “You might have to explain to your blank-faced friends.” The old man’s tone wavered between sarcasm and sincerity.

  Eytan cleared his throat and stared at the floor. “After World War II, many high-ranking Nazis and their collaborators scattered around the world with the Allies’ help, with the aim of countering Stalin’s expansionism. Some settled in Austria, which bordered the Eastern bloc. Others emigrated to Latin America. Most didn’t have to escape. They were helped by French, British and American secret services, which had a dual aim: funding dictatorships working for the CIA and exploiting the expertise these men had accumulated in various domains. The Nazis’ war chest and scientific and industrial know-how bought immunity from prosecution and imprisonment for some of the vilest scum the world has ever known. Politicians call that pragmatism. The press talked about the scandal of former SS men living out luxurious retirements on the Rio de la Plata, but they hadn’t retired. They were working for those countries’ governments.”

  “The CIA did this?” Jackie asked, as if her world were crashing down around her ears.

  “Don’t be naïve. To counter communist revolutionaries in South America, the CIA supported a bunch of dictators. I know the Agency has done its best to erase what happened from the 1950s to the 1980s, but the facts are undeniable. The French were no better. A lot of wartime collaborators were included in a general amnesty and reinstated in the administration. Why? Pragmatism, of course. In a period of reconstruction, it’s tempting to hold onto men with certain kinds of expertise without looking too closely at their pasts. That’s the way the world works.”

  “But Mossad carried out several abductions of Nazis who were holed up in South America, didn’t they?” asked Jackie.

  For a moment, Eytan pictured himself as a history teacher dealing with an eager student. “Yes, with mixed results. Our biggest success was Eichmann’s capture in 1960. Mengele always escaped us. We nearly cornered him, but he had support in high places and serious protection. Which reminds me, our opponents in the last few days struck me as a little wet behind the ears.”

  Eytan rubbed his thighs nervously. The old man spoke up. “You’re right, Mr. Morg. The Consortium fails only when it decides to.”

  “We didn’t beat anybody to get here, right? We just got rid of some people the organization judged expendable.”

  “Precisely. You catch on fast, Mr. Morg. Getting back to BCI, it’s a major player on the stock markets through its subsidiaries and holdings in other multinational laboratories.”

  Jeremy jumped up, gesticulating madly. “I was right. I knew it! That’s what the documents my father left us were all about. You know the turnover of the main players in the pharm industry? It’s nuts. The top three in descending order: seventy-five billion dollars, forty-one billion dollars, thirty-five billion dollars. Whenever there’s a health scare, they’re suspected of bribing experts to ring the alarm bells and force politicians to launch crackpot vaccination campaigns. Remember the H1N1 virus? Nobody ever finds anything illegal, but stock prices go through the roof. The London Times article Eytan read to us mentioned lots of victims. So, this time, it’s serious?”

  “They are prepared to play with people’s lives?” Jackie asked with disarming naivety. The other three stared at her wide-eyed. She winced. “I’ll shut up.”

  Jeremy came to her rescue. “The answer is yes. Without hesitation, Jackie. But from what you said, Mr. Planic, it sounds like profits aren’t this mysterious organization’s only motivation. Am I wrong?”

  “No. Money is the means to manipulate companies and politicians. But it’s not the ultimate aim.”

  Jaw twitching, brows knitted, Eytan was losing patience. “Would you cut to the chase rather than keeping us in suspense? We’d all appreciate it.”

  “I understand your impatience, Mr. Morg. I’m an old man, and I have few opportunities to tell what I know. I just celebrated my ninety-third birthday. In other words, my life is over. I have greater respect for you, Mr. Morg, than you can ever know. For that reason, I will give you two vital pieces of information.”

  Eytan could hardly restrain himself. He sensed Jackie watching him, while Jeremy lapped up the old man’s words.

  “The Mexican epidemic will go global with alarming speed. People will die at a terrifying rate. Experts will panic, with good reason for once. Within a month, the whole planet will be gripped in terror. BCI will announce the discovery of an emergency vaccine. Given the colossal worldwide requirements, all the pharmaceutical companies will cooperate to produce and distribute it at a ridiculously low price because, apparently, the economies of scale are so massive. A few days later, vaccination centers and doctors will start giving jabs. Where do you think that will lead us, Mr. Morg?”

  Eytan stood up, threw his head back and scanned the ceiling for a nonexistent horizon. His legs were shaking as never before. He wished he could crumple to the floor and let others solve the problems for him. He clasped his hands behind his neck.

  “To the implementation of the Bleiberg Project on a planetary scale. But that’s impossible.”

  “Which brings us to my second revelation. All the guinea pigs died of side effects from the experiments. Except one. The project’s feasibility has been proved. Which is why it must be stopped. I tracked down the nerve center of the operation after your father’s death, Mr. Corbin. You and your friends have the responsibility of bringing sixty years of history to a close. You must destroy the lab where the first stock of vaccines is kept. Rest assured, you won’t have to go far. It�
�s here, in Belgium.”

  Andrei watched them walk away. He raged against the cruel weight of the years on his shoulders. They could act. He was condemned to wait in his damned chair for the end to come, feeling his faculties wane day by day. He summoned his nurse to wheel him back to the lift and recalled the day when Bleiberg, after informing him of the risks, offered him a shot of his magic formula. His fear of not surviving the treatment was too strong, and from that day on the shadow of death hung over him. Soon it would carry him off.

  Stalin, then Hitler. Imperceptibly, the folly of men had worn him out, gnawed away at him. Fate had imposed on him a long, tiresome life and insidious decline. Wasn’t that the reality of existence? In the end, the destination is always the same. Only the itinerary differs.

  Annick tucked him into his bed and went back downstairs to prepare his morning coffee and toast and jam. Andrei let his gaze wander around the gray room. It was too big for a single man. Since his wife’s death from cancer five years earlier, the life had gone out of his home. At least he still had the resources to pay for live-in care. He wouldn’t end up in a hospice. Never mind if the old harpy lacked a sense of humor, she did her job diligently and with devotion.

  In a few minutes, his inevitably lukewarm breakfast would arrive. Then he would engross himself in a book to pass the time until lunch. When nostalgia overwhelmed him, Dostoevsky’s The Gambler was his only refuge. Alexei’s dissolution would be his companion today. Reading in Russian reminded him of the motherland.

  Annick was unusually slow today. First his visitors had revived painful memories, now they were delaying his daily regimen, which could interfere with his delicate digestion. The woman truly didn’t understand the meaning of the word “fast.” His ironic nickname for her was the Flying Belgian, which he thought was hilarious but didn’t impress her. He called out and received no response. He gathered his strength and shouted louder. Panting, he heard slow footsteps on the stairs. He propped himself up on his pillows and folded the white sheets over his scrawny thighs.

  “Good morning.” It wasn’t Annick’s voice. It was younger, more resolute, devoid of emotion almost.

  “Good morning, Elena.”

  “You don’t seem surprised to see me.”

  “You have a lighter step than Annick, my dear. I fully expected to see you one day or another.” He turned his head. You had to give the devil her due. She was magnificent. Tall, broad-shouldered, her athletic figure accentuated by tight jeans and long-sleeve top. What a shame that her face, once so gentle, had become so cold and sour. Her brown eyes, dark as the night, gave him gooseflesh. Her short dyed red hair accentuated her glacial beauty.

  “You didn’t hurt her, at least?” he asked with a tremor in his voice.

  Elena walked around and stopped at the foot of the bed. “She didn’t suffer, if that’s what you want to know. Consider that a thank-you for accomplishing your final mission.”

  Another innocent life sacrificed to an absurd logic. Annick wasn’t meant to die like that. “So, my turn has come. Wasn’t one corpse enough? Why did you have to eliminate her?”

  She smiled. “Have to? I wanted to. I don’t like old folks. What does the great expert on the human soul have to say on the matter?”

  He smiled back. “I say that you’re mad, Elena. Look at you. Arrogant, haughty. You disgust me. I can’t believe…”

  Andrei’s voice tailed off as a red stain splattered his pajama jacket. Behind the long muzzle of her revolver, Elena impassively watched the blood run down the old man’s forehead and chest.

  “You never believed. Otherwise you would never have betrayed our cause, Father.”

  CHAPTER 35

  Zaventem, Belgium, Saturday, 7:30 a.m.

  As soon as they were outside, Eytan ordered his two acolytes to get in the car. Before settling behind the wheel, he scanned the street without finding the slightest trace of a threat. He pulled away slowly. Jackie broke the silence. “This epidemic sends shivers down my spine. Eytan, how come Planic knew who you were?”

  “The Consortium seems to be linked to many of my targets. It’s hardly surprising they know me. We swim in the same murky waters.”

  “OK,” cut in Jeremy, “but what’s with this Bleiberg Project? I get the feeling you’re holding out on us.”

  Staring at the road ahead, his shoulders hunched, the Israeli agent seemed to be carrying an invisible burden. “I didn’t think the Bleiberg affair was directly relevant to the events of the last few days. Bleiberg was a pseudo scientist who experimented with genetic mutation for several years at the Stutthof concentration camp. As far as we know, he was never successful. I realize now that history has an annoying tendency to stutter.”

  “Perhaps. Now we have a slightly clearer idea of what this is about. I suggest we take a look at the facility Kourilyenko mentioned,” Jeremy said eagerly.

  “I agree,” Jackie chimed in with the same enthusiasm.

  Eytan let out a long whistle. “Sure. We go there, we eliminate everybody, and we take over the building before calling in the CIA and Mossad to close the place down. The only question left is which one of us will tour the TV studios telling the tale of our exploits?” He nodded and raised his eyebrows to reinforce his sarcasm.

  “Why do I get the impression you’re making fun of us?” Jackie asked, irritated.

  “It’s not just an impression. You’re both raving mad. The BCI facility has to have security that’s impossible to get past without being spotted, not to mention the patrols and guards. There are three of us. Our firepower is near nonexistent, and you two are both exhausted and inexperienced in missions of this scale. Going in there would be like entering the lion’s den with a song and a dance. Forgive my reluctance to join you on your little escapade.”

  “So what’s your wonderful plan, James Bond?” sniped Jeremy.

  “I drop you at the airport, you catch the first flight home, and I take care of the rest. With a bit of luck, in a few days you’ll see something in the papers about an industrial accident in the suburbs of Brussels.”

  Jackie picked up the torch Jeremy had lit. “Sorry to contradict your brilliant analysis, James, but I don’t think we have a few days. The events of the last twenty-four hours demonstrate the Consortium’s determination to mop everything up without delay. They know we have Corbin Senior’s documents and that we’re in Belgium, as shown by the attack at the rest stop. And a little bird tells me that a certain murderous bitch named Elena isn’t too far away. Basically, if we don’t act now, we give them time to make the contents of the facility vanish without trace.”

  Jackie’s logic was irrefutable. Eytan felt like a snake was slithering up his spine to wrap itself around his throat. Anxiety took over his whole being. But his fear, whose bitter taste had been unfamiliar to him for so many years now, was not for his own safety. That’s why he always worked alone. “You don’t know what you’re getting yourselves mixed up in. I’m talking about a short, targeted commando operation, not fighting off half-assed attacks like the ones you’ve faced since yesterday. This time, we’re the attackers. You slip up, and that’s it, it’s over. We know nothing about the facility or its defenses, remember. We are ludicrously underequipped. Jackie can look after herself, and Jeremy, you’ve proved your bravery, but I’m not sure I can protect both of you in a situation like this.”

  Jackie and Jeremy shared a knowing glance and a wink. “Look, Eytan, forget about protecting us. Jackie knows her job, and I want to…no, I must finish what my father started. And if I find the bitch who killed my mother, I’ll blow her away. I’m not a professional, I know. I’m better than that. I’m driven.”

  The stock trader’s sincerity drew a smile from Eytan, which the others took to be a sign of approval. Many years of rubbing shoulders with danger and death around the world made the Mossad agent certain of one thing, but he kept it to himself. The graveyards are full of driven amateurs.

  Soignes Forest, 19 kilometers south of Zaventem.

>   Fifteen minutes later, they were driving slowly past a natural barrier of tangled centuries-old oak trees and thick undergrowth and peering into the woods for a sign of the facility. The location seemed improbable, if not incongruous.

  “Are you sure you entered the right coordinates from Planic into the GPS?” Jackie asked cautiously, expecting an angry response from Eytan. A series of heavy sighs confirmed her fears, and she went back to scanning the line of trees.

  “You have to admit, it’s a heck of a pretty forest,” Jeremy muttered. “I’d no idea landscapes like this existed in Belgium. Near Brussels, too. Honestly, it’s cool.”

  Jackie couldn’t stifle a giggle. Eytan pulled into a rest area on the edge of the forest. He killed the engine and turned to his passengers. “I’ll say this once. Cut it out. You’re both beginning to get on my nerves.”

  Jeremy hung his head contritely. “Sorry, we haven’t had much to laugh about in the last two days. Anyway, I guess you were right—no boots, no chainsaws, not even a weed-whacker. We are seriously underequipped!”

  It was the joke that broke the camel’s back. As the two of them killed themselves laughing, Eytan got out and stomped off, slamming the car door behind him. As he stood facing the forest, a smile flickered across his lips. On another day, he’d have found Jeremy’s crack funny, but the thought of going back to squeeze the truth out of Planic/Kourilyenko didn’t make him laugh one little bit. Trouble was, Eytan could have sworn the old man was on the level. His built-in lie detector had never failed him. Was it experience, instinct or an ear for the tiny inflections in a voice? He couldn’t say. Whatever. He had expected to wind up in one of the many industrial parks around the Belgian capital. Instead, they were chugging aimlessly around a forest.

  Car doors slamming informed him of the lovebirds’ imminent arrival. Standing there with his hands in his pockets, the giant seemed perplexed. Jackie stepped to his right. Not seeing Jeremy, Eytan glanced to his left and saw the young man walking away from them. “Call of nature,” Jackie muttered before Eytan could ask.