Bannerman's Ghosts

by John R. Maxim

  Had he not been with Cassie, he’d have told them not to bother. This was Leland, in person, on a wide-open roof. The meeting was a meeting, nothing more.

  He said to Cassie, “I need to run out for a while. You stay with your mom. Do not leave the ward. When I come back, we’ll have some lunch here with your mother.”

  Cassie asked, “Can I be here when she nurses the baby?”

  “Your mother might want the first time to be private. If she wants us to stay, she will say so.”

  He walked from the hospital to its covered garage. He took the farthest set of stairs to the level below the roof. He waited and watched, saw nothing suspicious,

  and proceeded to the last stretch of ramp. As he reached the roof level, the man on foot intercepted him. The driver had also climbed partially out. Neither man’s eyes had long rested on him. They were constantly scanning their surroundings.

  “Sir?” said the first one. “I must ask you to stop. I must ask you to submit to a search.”

  “Of course,” said Bannerman. He approached and spread his arms. The agent ran his hands across his arms, legs and torso. He scanned Bannerman’s body with a metered device. As this was being done, he glanced up toward the hospital. He saw Cassie at the window. She was watching all this. He reassured her with a smile and a wave of his hand. He motioned her back from the window.

  The man who’d searched him stepped away. He asked, “No electronics?”

  “No wires, no weapons. This is friendly.”

  He said, “Sir, will you tell me who I just saw you signal?”

  “The signal’s meaning was, ‘Stand down. They’re just doing their jobs.’ The signal was entirely in your interest.”

  “I understand. Thank you.”

  “My pleasure,” said Bannerman.

  “Um…actually it’s mine. We know someone in common. In college, Southern Cal, I had a crush on Molly Farrell. I still might. Would you give her my regards?”

  “I’ll make a point of it. Your name?”

  “Brian Moore, sir.”

  Bannerman had no doubt that his daughter was still watching, probably peering through a flower arrangement. He offered his hand to agent Moore and then stepped to the car to shake the hand of Moore’s partner. He said to Brian Moore, “Look her up if you’d like. But don’t come without calling. That’s important.”

  “I will, sir. May I say, though, that I will shoot you dead if you seem to be endangering Mr. Leland, sir.”

  “I’d expect that of you, Brian. Call me Paul.”

  Secret Service, thought Bannerman. Nearest thing to the Jesuits. He’d yet to meet one who wasn’t thoroughly professional. They must have a high boredom threshold, however. Years on end of nothing but watching and waiting. But the handshakes may have eased his daughters misgivings at seeing her father being searched.

  The woman with Leland, bespectacled, fifty-ish, had abruptly stepped out of their car. He thought he’d seen Leland direct her to do so. She seemed entirely willing to comply. She left the passenger door open and, without looking back, walked to the far edge of the roof. Leland had flipped both sun visors down, the better not to be recognized. He said, “Mr. Bannerman, please get in if you will. I’d like a few minutes, just the two of us first. My associate will join us if needed.”

  “Who is she?”

  “A virologist. A good one. And she’s frightened to death of you. If you insist, I will tell you her name, but she would much prefer that I don’t.”

  “Is she someone who I might have reason to harm?”

  “On my word, she is not. She’s as straight as they come. She’s here to

  address any technical questions that I am not competent to answer. Please get in.”

  He did, after turning and blowing a kiss in the general direction of the window.

  Leland said, “I’d just heard. Roger Clew now seems stable. He came out of his coma, although only briefly. He could answer simple questions. He responded to his name. He did not seem to know what had happened to him. I’m told that’s not uncommon at this stage.”

  “Thank you,” said Bannerman. “That’s encouraging news.”

  Leland paused for a moment before speaking again. “Roger has told me that your word is your bond. Can there be no lies between us, Mr. Bannerman?”

  “Why don’t you tell me what you want of me first? We’ll see which of us tells the first lie.”

  “Is it your intention to go up against Bourne?”

  “I haven’t decided. That’s the truth.”

  Leland said, “Well, I know that you’re certainly preparing to do so. I know that you’ve been in contact with Yitzhak Netanya regarding Bourne’s Angolan activities. I know that you’ve assembled a dossier on Bourne and that you’ve made no secret of doing so. I know that you’ve been scaring off every friend he has by distributing Clew’s exchange with General Tubbs. Bourne’s Sunday brunch tomorrow will be sparsely attended. I’m not sure that I can make it myself.”

  Bannerman tried not to show that he did not understand the reference to distributing some Tubbs/Clew exchange. He knew, of course, that there had to have been communication between them, but he’d never seen it, let alone passed it on.

  “A prayer breakfast at Yale should take precedence,” he replied.

  “Quite impressive, Mr. Bannerman. That email in particular. I don’t suppose you’d tell me how you penetrated our system. How you got the full text; I know it wasn’t from Clew. How you got a list of names that was encoded and most secret. It makes we wonder why we bother with encryptions.”

  Bannerman could only guess what he was talking about. The list must be of those who had attended Bourne’s brunches. But as for who was on it, who sent it and why, Bannerman was at a loss.

  But I’ll take it, thought Bannerman. Believe what you will. He said, “We have some capable people.”

  “I dare say,” said Leland. “Quite a reach as well.”

  “Let’s put General Tubbs aside for the moment. Let’s skip over the list and the text. Tell me how this is vital to our national security.”

  “I’m relieved that your said ‘our.’ I hope you mean it.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “You’re correct that VaalChem produces bio-weapons. By law, we cannot. Someone has to. Bourne does. But VaalChem is infinitely more important than that.”

  The secretary of state began counting the ways in which VaalChem’s contribution was essential.

  Many nations have biological weapons, he explained. “VaalChem has samples of all of them. All of them. He’s gathered them by hiring the virologists who’ve developed them. Mostly Russians, South Africans, a few Chinese, the odd Iraqi. Some have defected and were spirited to Angola bearing spores or master seed strains of whatever they’d been working on. Do you know how small a virus spore is?”

  “Invisible,” said Bannerman. “I’d take that to mean small.”

  “And I’m talking weapons-grade. Not your garden variety. One hundred spores of weapons-grade Ebola or Marburg wouldn’t measure the width of a hair. And of course we’re talking trillions of spores in a container not much bigger than your thumb. Inhale no more than three and it’s 90% fatal. Compare that to anthrax which is 20% fatal and requires the ingestion of thousands of spores. And anthrax is treatable. The others are not. Or at least they were not until recently.”

  “And you’re about to tell me that Bourne has a treatment?”

  “He has several,” said Leland. “And others in development. As to why he’s developing weapons-grade toxins, bear in mind that you must first have the virus in order to create the anti-viral. You must have bacilli like anthrax and typhoid in order to create their vaccines. Bourne has everything at VaalChem, but he has much more. These samples, he’s collected. Each one has a signature. No two processes of making them are ever quite the same. Therefore, any outbreak can be traced to its source. A few blood tests and we instantly know who to bomb. Even better, we can bomb them with their own bio-weap
on. We can make it look like an accidental explosion at their own bio-weapons facility.”

  Bannerman said, “We would do so reluctantly, of course.”

  “We will do what we must for our survival, Mr. Bannerman.”

  Leland paused. He knew that he had sounded almost eager. He said, “None of us takes any pleasure in this. But it’s here. It’s a fact. Someone sooner or later will use this sort of weapon. We can’t very well take the Israeli position, so we need to be one step ahead.”

  Bannerman understood the reference to the “Israeli position.” It was a nation within missile range of four hostile states that were known to have developed bio-weapons. They’d put all four on notice that any bio-attack, whether by a state or by a terrorist group, would result in a nuclear reprisal on all four. They wouldn’t wait for proof of guilt. It would no longer matter. Most of Israel’s population would be dying.

  Bannerman nodded. “Fair enough, but why Bourne?”

  “Because he is…free from restrictions.”

  “Not bound by our laws? It’s not just that, am I right? Bourne is testing them on human subjects.”

  “One…suspects so,” said Leland.

  “One would rather not know.”

  “That part of it is really my associate’s field. But I hasten to tell you that she’d never consider the use of human subjects herself. In her heart, though, she’s glad that someone’s saved her the anguish. As I’ve said…”

  “No one likes this. I heard you,” said Bannerman.

  “We blanch at the thought of such testing,” said Leland. “But do you suppose, for a moment, that Iraq has not done so? The Soviets have, but at least they called them ‘accidents.’ The Iraqis have been blatant about it. We, in this country, have our own research facility. It’s at Fort Detrick, Maryland. Do you know of it?”

  “Of course.”

  “They develop vaccines and a few antivirals. They’re hard-working, dedicated, but their task is quite hopeless, no matter how well they are funded. For one thing, they’re too slow, but that isn’t their fault. They are bound by inflexible research protocols that require endless clinical testing. They are also subject to political influence. They, therefore, do things that are of no earthly use except to

  comfort and quiet the voters. You’re aware, are you not, that our government is stockpiling two hundred million units of smallpox vaccine?”

  “So, I’ve read.”

  “Well, it’s useless. It won’t prevent a damned thing. My associate – and she’s worked at Fort Detrick, by the way – can tell you why better than I can. Have you been vaccinated against smallpox yourself?”

  Bannerman nodded. “I have. Years ago. I’m aware that I’ve outlived its protection.”

  “Almost no one is protected. Fifty million might die, and that’s just from smallpox. Combine it with Marburg, Ebola, West Nile and that number could easily triple. We are playing for very high stakes here, Mr. Bannerman.”

  “One question,” said Bannerman. “Why State, not Defense? More specifically, why you? Shouldn’t weapons be the Pentagon’s job?”

  “National security is everyone’s job, but I realize that’s not what you’re asking. The simplest answer,” said Leland, “is that I know Bourne. I’ve known him for years and I know how to work with him. Bourne has a great many interests abroad, several much grander than VaalChem. We have aided him in those interests when they coincide with ours. That is one of the State Department’s functions.”

  “How closely do you monitor these interests?” asked Bannerman.

  “We try to learn everything that we need to know. We avoid learning things that we don’t want to know. It’s not so unlike hiring you or Harry Whistler. You get hired because you can do what we cannot. You are able to focus on the job at hand, unencumbered by legal or political constraints and with no careers to protect. You are how things get done that need to be done. There really ought to be a monument in your honor.”

  “I’m flattered,” said Bannerman dryly.

  “Sarcasm again, but you know that it’s true. Bourne goes you one better. He’s an entrepreneur. We like to speak with great reverence of our Founding Fathers, but this country was built by men like Artemus Bourne. We speak of the great Robber Barons with disdain, but they built the railroads, the steel mills, the ships. They extracted the oil, the coal and the gold. You don’t have to like them; most were utterly ruthless, but they made us the richest nation on earth, the envy of the whole world.”

  Leland paused. He said, “I don‘t like Bourne either. He’s a sociopath. He sees people strictly in term of their usefulness. He sees all ideologies, all religions, as childish; he sees loyalty as self-delusion. As I’ve said to Roger Clew, yes, the man is a criminal. But he is our criminal. Better ours than someone else's. And like the Robber barons, but unlike that Enron crowd, the man is a builder, a creator.”

  “You don’t like it, but you need him. I get that,” said Bannerman.

  “What would it take to get you to back off?”

  “If he’s responsible for Roger, will you still protect him?”

  “I’ve been…wrestling with that question. I still am.”

  “Very well,” said Bannerman. “I’ll give it more thought myself. First, I’d like a few words with your virologist friend.”

  “To complete your education? Yes, you should, but be gentle. She’s an excellent scientist; she is blameless in all this, but I’ve made the mistake of summarizing your history. She nearly wet her pants at your approach.”

  The woman stiffened visibly as Bannerman walked toward her. She began to back way, but thought better of it when she realized that would put her near the edge of the roof.

  Bannerman showed his palms. He stopped several feet short of her. He said, “Leland told me that you don’t want to be here. I wish that I knew how to put you at ease. I have a wife; I have children; I have many women friends. Not a one of them has ever been afraid of me.”

  She swallowed. “I am…told that others are.”

  “Howard Leland is, I think. It’s why he’s talking so much. By the way, I hear an accent. Is it German? Low German?”

  She wet her lips. She shook her head. “I am Swiss.”

  He smiled. “Yes, of course. From the north, though. Near the border?”

  Her features softened slightly. She seemed impressed by his ear. “I grew up near Basel, but more years were in Zurich.”

  “Zurich? I have friends there as well. Perhaps we know people in common.”

  “I would doubt…very much…that we would have the same friends.” She rushed to add, “By this I mean no offense.”

  “One of them, in fact, is my father in law. He married a Swiss. He married one of the Bruggs.”

  Her eyes widened. “The big American? His wife is Elena?”

  He grinned. “Don’t tell me that you know Elena.”

  “Everyone in Zurich knows of Elena. Not everyone has met her, but yes, we have met. Also Willem Brugg, her cousin, who is chairman of the board. And once Urs Brugg, her uncle, while he was alive. I know them because my education was by scholarship. The Brugg Foundation paid for my two advanced degrees. They gave a fine dinner for all those who earned doctorates. They were wonderful to us. Very kind.”

  She paused. A blush had come to her cheeks. She said, “Now it is me who talks too much out of nerves.”

  “Do you ever have occasion to speak to Elena?”

  “I write. She writes. We speak not so often. Once she sent a plane ticket. Not to Zurich. To Basel. She did this when my mother was ill. A great lady.”

  “Well, do me a favor. When you can, call Elena. Unless you think she would lie, ask her about me. You might get a very different picture.”

  She looked this way and that. She didn’t know quite what to do. But she decided, and, abruptly, she thrust out her hand. She said, “My last name is Kirch. My first name is Greta. More formally, I am Doctor Greta Kirch.”

  “I’m Paul.”

 
She said, “You have questions? This man said that I may answer.” She gestured toward Leland who was watching intently.

  Bannerman was getting the germ of an idea. It had to do with Elena. It had to do with VaalChem. The thought seemed so far-fetched that he dismissed it from his mind. For the moment, at least. He’d reflect on it later. And then he might take it up with Elena.

  He said, “I have only one or two questions. Leland said that your work at Fort Detrick was useless. Do you agree with that assessment? If so, why?”

  “Not useless. It has value. Our vaccines have great value. But only if applied to a virus that we know. I think if we are attacked, it will be with something new. A mutated virus. Or one spliced with new material. Worst of all is a chimera virus.”

  She explained that a virus must first find a host. When it does, it begins to reproduce. But a virus, like a human, doesn’t make exact copies. That is why there are so many strains of flu.

  A researcher may isolate the mutated copies, grow them in a different host, produce further mutations. She said, “The public is told that we have smallpox vaccine. Enough for everyone. Plenty. This is not the truth. Even if we had such a quantity of vaccine, it would only be effective against the virus as we know it. You are familiar with the terms, ‘genetic splicing, genetic sequencing?’”

  Bannerman rocked a hand. “Not in depth.”

  She said, “You know DNA. It’s like a twisted beaded necklace. There are several places, beads, in the smallpox genome where foreign genetic material can be added. You take the DNA from Marburg. Marburg is a good example. You isolate the disease-causing parts and you graft these onto the smallpox genome. This is splicing. This is known as recombinant DNA. We call this a chimera virus. You get Marburg’s catastrophic mortality rate and the very high contagion of smallpox. You can isolate Marburg if that is all it is, but not if you’re dealing with a chimera. It will have already spread before symptoms appear. It will overwhelm all efforts to treat it.”

  She said, “I am told that this is already happening. An accident on a ship off the coast of Liberia. I am sad for those aboard, but I thank God it is a ship.”