Final Winter

by Brendan DuBois

  His face was pale and sweaty, and it looked like his hornrimmed glasses were about to slide down his nose. He played with a few keys on his laptop and said, ‘Before I answer, I just want to reaffirm one thing. All right? Just one more thing.’

  ‘Victor . . .’

  ‘It will only take a second, Adrianna. Please. Can’t you give me one more goddamn second?’

  ‘Say your piece, doc,’ Monty said. Adrianna kept quiet. The doctor said, ‘The very first field trials on the airborne vaccine show that in one one-hundredth of one percent of cases there will be an acute reaction. And in the majority of those cases the reaction will lead to respiratory seizure and death, especially among the elderly, the very young, and those with deficient immune systems, like AIDS patients or cancer patients undergoing treatment.’

  No one said anything. The doctor looked around and said, ‘People, I just want to make sure that you understand. The most optimistic scenarios say, if this is approved and proceeds, that we might be able to expose about one hundred million people to the airborne vaccine. And based on what we know from the field trials, within a month or so of this happening there will probably be ten thousand dead. Do you understand that? Do any of you fucking understand that? We in this little room and those few people who oversee us, we’re about to condemn ten thousand Americans to death over the next several weeks. And why? Because we’re scared. That’s why.’

  The silence was heavy, oppressive, as though some inert gas had slipped into the room and rendered speech impossible. Monty cleared his throat and said, ‘Doc, we know the numbers. You threw them at us this morning, right when they started. Ten thousand dead ... a hell of a number, doc, a hell of a fucking number. And I’m gonna have nightmares sleeping tonight, trying to get my mind around that number. But I’m thinking about another number. I’m thinking, even if we get every attack team out there that’s coming in except for one - if just one slips through, in the space of a few weeks from now we’ll have a hundred thousand dead. Or two hundred thousand dead. And that’s only if we’re very, very lucky. And then we’ll have to live with the fact that we could have saved most of those people, if we had acted instead of sitting on our hands. And if we’re not that lucky, if two or three teams make it into Manhattan and Chicago and Los Angeles, then you’re talking a million casualties. A million casualties and a collapsed economy and UN peacekeepers in the streets and—’

  Victor raised his voice. ‘You don’t have to tell me that! I know that already!’

  Monty shrugged. ‘You were repeating yourself earlier. I was just repaying the favor. C’mon, doc, shit or get off the pot. Adrianna needs your answer.’

  Victor took his glasses off, rubbed at his eyes. ‘I just want all of you to know the cost. That’s all. The cost. Because when we go to trial - and we will, one of these days, someday down the road - I want my conscience to be clear. I’ll want to know that I told everyone the cost.’

  Brian said, ‘Yeah, we’ll remember that doc. And I’ll be happy that we’re sitting in a functioning court room in a functioning country to go to trial. Like Monty said, you’ve got to—’

  ‘Yes,’ Victor said.

  Victory, Adrianna thought, sweet and total victory. ‘I’m sorry, Victor, could you repeat that?’

  ‘Yes,’ the doctor said. ‘Yes, and God help us all.’

  ‘Yes,’ Darren said. ‘God help us all.’

  ~ * ~

  With the decision having been reached a sense of energy and purpose came over the group as if, having put the decision behind them, they could now move on. Adrianna felt the mood change but wasn’t fooled by it: these few people in here would be haunted for the rest of their lives for what they were about to do.

  She picked up a pen, went to a legal pad. ‘Victor? To reaffirm what you said this morning, we’ll have enough vaccine by month’s end?’

  ‘Just barely,’ he said, his voice sullen. ‘We’re looking at immunizing the top five or six population centers, ten if we’re lucky - which means a lot of rural areas will be on their own. But the war-gaming all shows the attack teams striking at city centers. No other place makes sense. The rural areas will have to muddle through.’

  The doctor moved from his chair, reached under the table and pulled out a shiny metal case. He undid the clasps and opened it up, revealing black foam inside. Nestled inside the foam was a metal cylinder about the size of a small fire extinguisher, colored dark green, with yellow letters and numbers on it. ‘Here’s a mock-up of one of the dispersal units. Each one like this can administer about one hundred fifty thousand vaccine units…’

  Monty whistled and Darren said, ‘The fuck you say.’

  ‘Nope, that’s right. One hundred fifty thousand vaccine units. Now. Here’s the challenge, and I’m sure this is going to be the second question you’re asked tonight, Adrianna, by the coordinator. The first question being, of course, are you out of your ever-loving mind?’

  She nodded, knowing what Victor was saying. ‘Absolutely. The second question will be, how do we administer the vaccine by a covert method. Victor, haven’t your folks come up with any delivery options?’

  The doctor passed the cylinder to his right, to Darren, who examined it before passing it on to Brian. His hands now free, Victor said, ‘Yeah. Initially, the vaccine was going to be kept in ready reserve, at CDC and infectious-disease centers across the country. Way it was figured, if there was an anthrax attack on a city the first response would be to quarantine and treat those exposed with Cipro. Secondary response, outside of the quarantined area, would be to set up the airborne dispersal area. Like major parks, boulevards, sports centers. Anyplace where you could get a concentration of the population so you could immunize them quickly and in large numbers. Oh, there wouldn’t be much in terms of efficiency — some of the vaccine would end up drifting away - but to do it quickly, with large numbers, that’s how the preliminary plans came to be developed.’

  Now Victor looked directly at Adrianna. ‘But now...well, we’re in a whole different universe. First, doing it covertly, and second, doing it over a large number of cities. Any suggestions?’

  Wait, Adrianna thought, just wait. Monty came to her rescue. ‘Airborne dispersal, of course. Helicopters? Crop-dusters?’

  Brian spoke up. ‘Not possible. Don’t you think it’d be all over the news, crop-dusters and helicopters arriving at the same time over the ten largest population centers? And how do you keep it secret, an operation like that? Not going to happen.’

  ‘Military, then,’ Darren offered. ‘Best way of doing this, keep it all in-house.’

  Monty shook his head. ‘Maybe you could do it for a couple of cities, but not for ten. Most military craft don’t fly in and out of civilian airports, or transit civilian airspace. Same problem with news coverage. If you start having military aircraft suddenly appear over civilian airspace, then the questions will start.’

  Victor seemed to want to say something, but kept his mouth shut. His hands on the tabletop in front of him seemed to be trembling. Adrianna said, ‘Those canisters, Victor. How can they be installed on aircraft? What kind of support mechanism would you need? Would a pilot have to activate the canister?’

  ‘No, you wouldn’t need a pilot,’ Victor said sullenly. ‘You could have it set up automatically, as simple as possible. You’d have a dispersal-control mechanism hooked up to the canister. Place the canister in a secure location. Set a radio altimeter switch in the canister so that when the aircraft carrying it rises up to three thousand feet the radio altimeter arms the canister. When the aircraft goes below three thousand feet, the canister begins dispersing the vaccine because of the change in altitude registered by the radio altimeter. In fact - shit, you know, that might work. That just might work.’

  Adrianna kept quiet. It was important that the entire group take part in the process, have a stake in whatever outcome was chosen. Darren said, ‘Well, tell us, doc. What would work?’

  ‘What do all these population centers have
in common? Airports. That’s what they have in common. Aircraft coming into airports all the time. Not a problem. Nothing unusual. Nothing to attract attention. If you time it just right.. .’

  ‘Shit,’ Monty said. ‘It could be done in just one night, right?’

  Brian said, ‘Who are you going to get to do it? American Airlines? United? You think they’d take part in something as crazy as this? Not going to happen. Not in a million years.’

  ‘Then perhaps somebody else, another outfit,’ Adrianna said, the shaking of her legs continuing. ‘Not a passenger air-line, but an airline that—’

  Darren spoke up, and Adrianna had to prevent herself from shouting in glee at his suggestion.

  ‘The General,’ he said. ‘We get the General to do it, that’s how.’

  The expressions on everyone’s faces changed. Nobody needed an explanation of what Darren had just said. Former Air Force General Alexander Bocks, nearly ten years ago, had used his experience as a cargo-shipping officer in the Air Force to create one of the most successful airfreight airlines in the world, AirBox. His black-and-yellow Air Boxes could be seen on most streets in major cities in the United States and Canada, and the men and women delivering the packages coming out of the Air Boxes wore uniforms that were clear knock-offs of Air Force apparel. He was also a firm supporter of the current administration and of the latest installment in the round-the-clock struggle that characterized the new war on terror.

  Darren spoke up again. ‘Adrianna, this is more in your department’s line but it’s always been rumored, at least-in my agency, that General Bocks has always been...well, cooperative when your agency or others have needed transportation assistance. True?’

  Adrianna tried to keep her voice calm and level. Finally, at long last, success...

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘General Bocks has been very cooperative in the past in helping us move assets from parts of the world where traditional air service is under constant surveillance. Air cargo doesn’t get the kind of scrutiny that the typical airlines receive.’

  Brian said with a smile that made her shiver for a moment, ‘Care to say what you mean by assets?’

  She smiled right back at him. ‘Packages containing sensitive equipment. And, on a few occasions, packages that contained sensitive people.’

  Monty said, ‘Can it be done? Adrianna, do you think you can do it?’

  She looked at each and every one of them and said, ‘Yes, I do. I really do.’ She took a breath. ‘Victor, I’m going to need a timetable of when the canisters will be available to be shipped, and where they can be picked up. Darren, I need the latest information you have on the traffic analysis and intercepts of the anthrax attack teams. Monty, come up with a briefing on border security and the hunt for the Syrians, and what recommendations I need to bring to our border people. Brian, give me a recommendation of how we can bring in local law enforcement to look for the attack teams without word getting out.’

  Adrianna yawned suddenly, which caused the men to laugh - a good sound. She looked at her watch and said, ‘I’ll need this information by eleven p.m. At midnight I’ll be making a presentation to the Director. And tomorrow…Tuesday, right? Right. Tuesday, I want this place empty. You’re all going to take the day off, all of you - and that includes me as well - because we need to come back to work rested and refreshed. It’s going to be one long fucking haul to do this right.’

  Adrianna stood up, her legs no longer shaking, her stance firm and strong, and she said, ‘Thank you. Thank you all for your work. You can’t even begin to understand how much this means to me.’

  And then she turned aside to hide the expression on her face.

  ~ * ~

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The meeting of the Tiger Team leaders took place in the basement of an obscure building on the outskirts of Andrews Air Force Base in Maryland. The conference room’s main table was long and the mood was somber as Adrianna took her seat and looked up at the Director sitting at the other end, overseeing the twelve Tiger Team leaders, all of whom sat still and quiet, their laptops open in front of them. He had once been a Deputy Director of her own agency - a former colonel in the US Army Special Forces - promoted after a tour of duty in Afghanistan in that bitter fall of 2001. Outside Kandahar he had lost most of his left leg to a Soviet-era land mine, and had been tapped to head the Tiger Teams after his recovery. It was midnight and coffee, tea, doughnuts and juice drinks had been placed on a table in the corner of the room, but nobody was eating, nobody was drinking. It seemed to Adrianna that the mood in the room tonight just didn’t go with people munching goodies.

  The Tiger Team leader sitting closest to the Director was an older woman from the National Reconnaissance Office, whose name Adrianna had already forgotten and whose hands were quivering as she presented her report. She had been stationed at the facility in Connecticut, and was the senior surviving officer from yesterday’s assault. Though her hands shook as she went through her report, her voice was clear and to the point. The terrorist had gained entrance by moving quicker than anyone had anticipated. The female security officer on the ground floor had apparently just returned from a bathroom break when the terrorist entered. The personnel on the ground floor also did not respond in time to the assault, though the alarm system should have been activated. Due to a security breach that was still being investigated, the terrorist had had the proper keypad authorization to use the elevator to descend to the lower level, where he had been shot by one of the personnel on that floor who had responded to the alarm activation.

  Adrianna joined in the discussion with the other Tiger Team members, being careful not to probe too deeply or too forcefully. She knew that she was going to be in for a rough time of it later, and wanted to save her energy and her voice for then. The other Tiger Team leaders persistently and quietly interrogated the National Reconnaissance Office woman, and when the questions finally dribbled away she gave a quick glance of thankfulness to the Director that her ordeal in the conference room had ended.

  The Director said, ‘Jonathan . .

  A heavyset man with a thick, black beard streaked with gray spoke up from the other end of the table. ‘Sir?’

  ‘I want your team to take the lead investigating the intelligence failure that led to the Connecticut facility being breached, and summarize the lessons to be learned. Within twenty-four hours, I want a directive to all Tiger Teams with your recommendations for increasing security without decreasing operational effectiveness. Understood?’

  ‘Perfectly, sir.’

  ‘Good. I also want an interim report within a week on the shooter: who he was, and how in hell he knew where to go and how to get there. I know you won’t have all those answers, but I’ll want some of them.’

  ‘You’ll get it, sir.’

  The Director turned his attention to the woman at his side and said, ‘One more question, Leslie, if I may.’ ‘Certainly, sir,’ the NRO woman said.

  The Director said, ‘Who killed the intruder?’

  ‘Simon Hannity. On loan from the Marine Corps.’

  The Director nodded. ‘Why?’

  The NRO woman looked confused, but Adrianna had an idea where this was going.

  ‘Sir?’ the NRO woman asked, her voice no longer so confident.

  It seemed like the Director was trying to keep his temper in check as he spoke clearly and slowly. ‘Why was the intruder shot and killed? Why wasn’t he captured? Or wounded?’

  She said, ‘Simon felt that it was the only option available to him. And ...’

  ‘And what?’

  Her voice quivered. ‘Simon had been talking to one of the personnel on the ground floor. He had heard the grenade blasts, the shots, the screams. He ... wanted that man dead.’

  ‘Don’t we all?’ the Director said. Then he leaned forward: ‘But only after we capture the fucker and wring him dry and find out everything we can about him. Do you get that?’

  The NRO woman nodded. The Director said, ‘I want this
Simon character released from service, and sent back to the Marine Corps with our thanks. By tomorrow. All right?’

  The NRO woman nodded again. Adrianna felt sorry for her. It was the only thing the poor woman could do.

  But her feelings of sympathy quickly evaporated as the Director narrowed his gaze, focused on her and said, ‘Adrianna? You’re up.’

  Adrianna activated a program from her laptop as she stood up. ‘Thank you, sir.’

  ~ * ~

  When Adrianna first started, she was so tired that she fumbled some of the words and, once, a PowerPoint slide was triggered too early. But as she continued talking she found that she gathered strength and confidence, and she laid out her presentation for Final Winter. She talked about the intelligence findings, the interpretation of these findings, and the recommendations from the other members of her team. She would pause occasionally to see if anyone was interested in asking any questions, but the only response she got from the Director was, ‘Go on, please.’