As Tarek expected, Rasim was in the room sitting at the head of the table. On the right side, to the surprise of Tarek, there was not one, but two rulers - Hamdan and Mansour, respectively the Deputy Prime Minister and the Minister of Foreign Affairs. With a calm, gesture they invited him to sit on the side of the table opposite to them and poured him tea.
Tarek performed the ceremonial greeting and took a sip of it. Then Hamdan turned his head toward Rasim, who started to brief the Al Nahyans on the conversation he and Tarek held in Dubai, and finally added the results he had received this morning from the brand new pharmaceutical lab at the University of Abu Dhabi.
The lab director, a Pakistani citizen with a PhD in Pharmacology at Harvard, reported that the pills were of an unknown strain, and engineered by a pharmacological genius, after seeing the active molecule break down while going through the deformulation process. The scientist also ruled out that the pills were some sort of synthetic drug, like ecstasy, as none of the typical hallucinogen compounds were present.
The two Sheikhs looked at each other. Then Mansour, the younger, started to speak.
“Dear Tarek, we appreciate your loyalty and we know you have never done anything against the interest of our country. You have to realize, though, that with this request you are asking us to cross a border.”
He stopped and his brother continued.
“Even if you lead a secular lifestyle - and we do not have anything against it because it is only up to God to judge men - you must realize that this new invention clashes with Islam and the teachings of our Prophet, may peace be upon him. Many in our community will protest.”
Tarek waited for the sheikh to finish, then waited another few seconds until Mansour gave a small nod and stared at him, to signal he could answer.
“Your Highnesses, I fully share your concerns and that is precisely why I am asking for your help. Like the Prophet - may peace be upon him - I come as a messenger. I am certainly not the messenger of the Almighty, but of a more mundane and possibly evil force. The inventor of this drug has set up things in such a way that if he dies, the formula will be spread all across the world, and the consequences would be dire.
He also understands the risks and wants to keep it hidden, but now there is the imminent danger that it falls in the wrong hands. He believes that your approach to modernity, open, yet very respectful of tradition, is the best guarantee to keep the risk of contagion under control.
We know we are asking you alot, to become the guardians against chaos, but we also know how well you have watched over your country and therefore we are convinced your family can take up this challenge.”
The Sheikhs stayed silent for a while, then Mansour replied.
“Indeed, we know when we must accept a responsibility...you can ask Rasim from now on about anything you need. There are conditions, though, so listen very carefully.
First, we do not want this drug to be produced or sold in our country. Not even nearby us.
Second, we want to know on a regular basis the progress of its diffusion and any other relevant development, especially here in the region.
Third, if you break any of the above conditions we will consider you to have betrayed our trust and that will have serious consequences.”
Tarek repeated each rule, whispering them to himself loud enough for the others could hear. He then raised his eyes to Mansour, and then to Hamdan.
“It is clear, your Highnesses. I just have one final question; can we leverage the country logistics? For example, the Jebel Ali free trade zone?”
Mansour looked at Hamdan. They spoke by exchanging half winks, and then Mansour turned back to Tarek and nodded.
“Yes, this is allowed. For all other needs, please refer to Rasim. He has heard the conditions and will be the guardian of our pact.”
Before standing up, Hamdan made the final comment.
“I want to make it clear that we believe this drug is extremely dangerous and we accept your help request out of our sense of responsibility toward our country, our people, the community of Muslims, and first and foremost, God the Almighty. I think you are right when you say this is an evil matter and has to be controlled with firm hands. And as for us, personally, we will never make use of it.”
But Tarek got the feeling that this was exactly what the two Sheikhs desired most.
Chapter 10
Greg Russo Jr. was once again controlling fear and anger, funneling the extra amount of adrenaline in his brain to find a way to get out of the deadlock.
He belonged to a family that became part of the so-called CIA aristocracy as both his father and grandfather had served in the agency.
He enjoyed boasting that his grandfather had been the first Italian American operative of the OSS - as the agency was called during World War II - and he had collected intelligence in Sicily prior to the Allied landing of 1943. His enemies would add that that was how the revered grandfather had managed to get cleared of the allegations he was dealing with in the New York City mafia, but nobody bothered to check.
Less than forty years old, Greg had reached the respectable position of Assistant to the Deputy Director of Operations, the highest operative officer at the agency. He was now responsible for the CIA activities over the Mediterranean and the Middle East, which meant managing loyal but sometimes troublesome allies like the French, the Italians and, first and foremost, the Israelis.
He had been informed of the problem with the Mossad the very same day of the Cyprus meeting and he had immediately found that the cover was indeed belonging to the CIA. As he was waiting for an answer from those snail-eating French, he had ordered a quiet check on Sean’s house in Connecticut.
As soon as the search revealed that the house was bugged by those typically used by the Homeland Security, Greg knew he was in a big mess.
He could always blame his predecessor for recklessly giving away cover, but that was a very weak excuse. He might save his position, but there certainly would not be any promotions in his future.
In addition to Sean, there were seven other identities that had been activated. His only chance was to set up Mossad against Homeland Security and jump in at the last minute to save the day.
He mentally recapped the points.
Yaakov Mayer had stated that they were sure, and could even prove, that Sean Ewals did not exist and someone else, maybe American or maybe not, was using him as a cover. The cover was extremely well done. It was obviously made with interference of the CIA in mind.
Skip Ross, from Homeland Security, said that they suspected Mossad was spying on Sean, the perfect model of the American entrepreneur, but had no conclusive evidence. In any case, they warned Sean of the risks and Sean provided some useful information about a new Israeli bioresearch program.
Then Sean left to London and did not show up on the return flight that was supposed to take him back home before Christmas, after a long tour of Europe and the Middle East. Greg had been avoiding Skip’s requests to know exactly where Sean had disappeared for five consecutive days. Sean was taking non-US airlines the whole trip and it was not easy for Homeland Security to get access to foreign airline records, so they needed the CIA’s assistance. Or were people in Langley – the CIA headquarters in Virginia - covering something?
“Yes”, thought Greg, “we are trying to avoid headlines like ‘Middle Eastern agents spy Israel under a CIA cover and under Homeland Security protection.’”
He needed to know more. He called Skip and asked him to come to his office in Langley.
“The thing is, our man seemingly disappeared in Israel. If you look at this record, he was regularly booked on the outbound Turkish flight from Abu Dhabi to Tel Aviv, with a layover in Istanbul. But he never landed in Amsterdam on the return leg to the US. It does not necessarily mean he has been detained or kidnapped. He might have gone for a swim in the Red Sea and decided it was worth an extra week of holiday and then just came back with a different airline. I need to find out more to help
you.”
Skip did not fully believe Greg’s side of the story, but he could not prove it wrong. And after all Sean was a US citizen he had vowed to protect, so he revealed the latest findings: they had placed the pictures of all Israeli contacts of Sean in FaceFinder and it turned out that two of the researchers that had left the companies, had already been in the US under a different name. They were visiting various biotech laboratories and agencies, including Homeland Security’s own National Biodefense Analysis and Countermeasures Center. Why send researchers abroad under cover? Or was the name used in Israel the real cover?
Skip and Greg came to the conclusion that they were not harmless researchers and ordered a full enquiry on the background of the two Israeli researchers.
As soon as Skip left the office, Greg called Yaakov. Yes, the CIA had found something, but there were a few pieces of the puzzle where they needed the help of their loyal allies in the Middle East to make sense of it all.
Greg admitted that Sean was a cover but it was not from the CIA, he bluffed, hoping Yaakov had not gathered enough information from his sayanim. They were now checking with the FBI, the Homeland Security, and a few other foreign services where they had better connections than Mossad. There was not much to expect from the other US agencies. If it was their work, these covers would have been meant to protect witnesses and it would have taken some time to pan out.
The same applied to the foreign services. It would take even longer, and in any case, they would not come up with complete details. Yaakov got to the point.
“Greg, I get the message. Someone has stolen the honey but you have not found any sticky fingers yet, and are in desperate need of help.”
“I have always liked your practical approach. I think it is in the interest of both of us to sort this out quickly. By the way, also Homeland Security was investigating about Sean. He was dealing with two of your military researchers….I am going to send you the file. I think we have to find out who Sean really is.”
“We can help you here, Greg. I did not tell your agent in Cyprus because I did not want to accidentally disclose some information to a lower ranking officer. Fact is, our image identification software - well, our modified version of yours - is telling us beyond doubt, that this Sean Ewals is no one else than George McKilroy, a venture capital billionaire well known in his neighborhood. Now, just try to google his name and see what you get…”
Yaakov paused and hoped he could stop there, without further questions about how they managed to get the DNA crosschecks or, worse, about the two researchers. He heard Greg typing on the keyboard.
“Yaakov, George McKilroy passed away seven years ago and Sean looks considerably younger than the sixty plus years he should have, if he were George incognito.”
“Greg, you know in our business you cannot always show the evidence. All I can tell you is, we are absolutely sure that this man is George McKilroy. We had enough reason to hesitate putting him under intense surveillance, because we were fully aware this meant raising eyebrows from your side.”
Greg felt the pressure lifting. There was time to assess the threat to the United States, if there was any. For sure, the Mossad felt there was a very real one to Israel, and this had maybe to do with the two researchers that deserved alot more scrutiny. But now it was time to play loyal ally.
“Yaakov, I have known you long enough to trust you. So if one of our citizens starts to play suspiciously with one of our allies, the very least we can do is accept the responsibility to find out. If you agree, I will organize a project for all relevant US security agencies to work with you, to figure this out as soon as possible. It will be done under CIA leadership, obviously, as this involves other foreign services and we have just experienced how our domestic services are somehow, unsuitable for this.”
“You are always the same motherfucking bastard, Greg. I am happy to have you on board,” laughed Yaakov on the other line.
Greg sighed, relieved to have made it past one obstacle. Many more were to come.
Chapter 11
It was a hot and rainy July day. The view of the Hong Kong harbour, from the 67th floor of the International Commerce Center in West Kowloon, was breathtaking and it made Helena and George press themselves against the glass windows of the waiting room in the office of Lee Shing Chen.
The headquarters of “Prosperity”, the conglomerate holding company of the Chen family, took over half of the floor and it was where Lee oversaw the operation of an empire with interests in real estate, logistics, food retail, pharmaceutical manufacturing, and leisure. All the operating companies had their nameplate on the main entrance, and spacious offices that also served as meeting rooms. All companies of Lee’s empire were officially represented, except the most important and profitable one, which had no plate in the main hall and was run exclusively from Lee’s office.
Helena and George had arrived, as requested, half an hour before the meeting time to allow enough time to go through the security procedures. All their electronics had been taken and stored in a safe. They were only allowed to bring a few printouts, a paper notebook, and pencils that were given to them with the “Prosperity” logo on top. They were admitted into Lee’s office at exactly 4 PM.
Lee welcomed them warmly, showed them to the tea table next to the window, and then sat down at his desk. The office was a simple room with two large glass windows overlooking the harbor and two massive screens on one wall. There was just one decoration in the entire room, a painting of an impressionist view of a bougainvillea tree and landscape. “Maybe Monet or an early Cezanne,” thought George.
“Before we start, let me introduce you to the two gentlemen with whom I share my desk today. On my left you have Paolo, from London, and here on my right is Guillermo, who just arrived from Los Angeles.”
The two men stood up in their flawless Armani suits and offered their hands, with just the trace of a smile on their faces.
“I hope you will excuse them if they look tired. I am afraid that despite all the recent improvements, Cathay First Class still cannot match a Gulfstream VI private flight. But we did not want to risk any undue attention from our....competition in the pharmaceutical retail business, if we want to call it that.”
“Good,” thought Helena. With Europe’s organized crime and Latin America’s narcos at the table, their proposal had raised interest.
“We can start by reviewing the results from the experiments we have run on your samples.”
Lee clapped his hand and the lights dimmed, as one of the screens on the wall switched on. George looked out of the window, staring at the International Finance Center skyscraper opposite to them that towered over Hong Kong island.
“Do not worry, Mr. Virenque, they cannot see us from outside. The windows are tinted. And also armored,” chuckled Lee.
The video started. An Asian lab researcher, wearing mask and goggles, confirmed that joint usage of cocaine and Telomerax greatly increased the effects of cocaine while reducing the body damage linked to the cocaine metabolites. The experiments also confirmed that it was possible to keep the patient addicted, with the subjects only seeking the new buzz, as coming back to standard cocaine would be a downgrade. As for the claimed rejuvenating effect, the conclusion was that it was too early to say, but it could not be ruled out.
“One thing they do not mention,” thought Helena, “is if they have been able to reverse engineer the drug or not.” Most likely the answer was no, as they were still sitting there. But Lee was known for his love of special effects and surprises.
At the end of the video, Lee stared at them, and suddenly the smile he had kept so far fell into a frown.
“Who are you exactly and why are you offering this to us? Having a great product is not necessarily a guarantee for success. And your name; I do not if it is destiny or not, but Richard Virenque was a cyclist that got disqualified for doping. Or do you happen to be relatives?”
Cover blown. Clearly the identities they were getting from the Em
iratis were not at the level of the CIA’s, that had resisted for months before being broken by the Mossad. Helena exchanged a glance with George. It was up to him. He took a deep breath and started explaining.
“Mr. Lee, we are part of a small team of extremely brilliant researchers and extremely innovative entrepreneurs, to the extent that we have invented something so revolutionary that it cannot be brought to the market in the usual way. We tried, and faced stiff opposition, even risking our lives. So we had only two options, either trash Telomerax and return to our normal lives, or double our work and figure out how to get this to the market.”
George paused and moved his eyes from Lee to Paolo, Guillermo, and eventually to Helena, who took over.
“However, it is not the last resort. We are so committed to taking this public that the whole package would make its way out through multiple media outlets if anything serious happens to any of us. But I think we can all agree it is better to have an orderly diffusion and enough remuneration to make up for the risks we all would be taking.”
Guillermo kept his eyes fixed on Helena. Paolo exchanged a glance with Lee, understanding they were on the same page, and then spoke.
“If we were drug dealers, we would actually be very afraid of this product. It could remove addiction from cocaine and make it acceptable, to the extent that it could be legalized and sold like aspirin in pharmacies, provided that you take this Telomerax strand together with it. On the other hand, if I look at it from the perspective of our pharmaceutical industries, I acknowledge this could become the next Viagra - actually ten times bigger than that. But it would then be copied, and after twenty-five years the patent would be lifted, with profits gone forever. And unlike Viagra, it would bring a lot of hot political debate, making the investment a lot riskier. Maybe it would make more sense to handle it in an illegal way, in which case we are obviously not interested. And the price you propose is more suitable for the deep pockets of organized crime, rather than for a respectable corporation like ours.”
The Last Enemy - A history of the present future - 1934-2084 Page 11
