Wildfire: A Post-Apocalyptic Pandemic Survival Thriller (The Hurst Chronicles Book 3)

by Robin Crumby

  “The challenge they faced was that once a soldier is wearing a respirator, he can barely fire a weapon.”

  “And that, my dear chap, is half the battle won. Cast your mind back to the first chemical weapons. In 1916, soldiers were dying in their hundreds of thousands on the battlefields of Ypres and the Somme. The generals were desperate to gain any advantage to break the stalemate. Their first breakthrough was to release clouds of chlorine gas and then mustard gas to drift over the enemy trenches. The generals had the temerity to argue that these new chemical weapons offered a more humane way to kill than throwing the flower of youth at enemy machine guns. They described this new warfare as a higher form of killing.”

  “The holy grail of modern warfare is to find a way of incapacitating one’s enemy without destroying their infrastructure and buildings. Atomic bombs, by contrast, are such clumsy weapons.”

  “In 1942, Henry Stimson wrote, and I quote, ‘any method which appears to offer advantages to a nation at war will be vigorously explored.’”

  “My point precisely. What if the Millennial Virus was a state-sponsored attack on the West with a view to eliminating the human threat while retaining all of their towns and cities intact?”

  Ephesus seemed tickled by the naivety of the question. “If I were you, I would start by looking at which nation or group stood to gain the most from such an attack, if that’s what you really believe this was.”

  Zed stood up suddenly, electrified by a single thought. “So perhaps the question we should be asking ourselves is not why did this outbreak happen, but why did this happen now?”

  “What are you thinking?” asked the colonel.

  “Well, if my hunch is right, there must have been a catalyst. Did something happen to precipitate this attack? A provocation, a scientific breakthrough? I believe the virus was an act of war.”

  “Like the 9/11 attack or the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand in Sarajevo?”

  “Exactly. Ephesus, perhaps you could be so kind as to show me where to find these documents? I’ve made a list.”

  Zed handed him some lined notepaper, folded many times. He had been carrying it around with him for days, adding to the growing list of questions and information requests. The old man put on his wire-framed glasses and scanned the handwritten page, scratching his head and frowning.

  “Right then, we’d better get started. Tom, can you make some tea and I’ll dig out these project folders. Wildfire, eh? I haven’t heard that name in years.”

  “We’ll leave you to it, Zed. I’ll be downstairs in the command centre if you need me,” said the colonel, rising to leave with Major Donnelly.

  Chapter Eighteen

  After more than three hours of discussion, Zed and the Porton Down archivist took a much-needed break.

  The old man seemed exhausted by the relentless barrage of questions exploring the different research programmes, both domestic and foreign that related to viruses. Zed was satisfied that there was full disclosure of material. There appeared to be little subterfuge. A couple of times, Ephesus hesitated, but he blamed his faltering memory. For a man his age, he seemed distinctly together.

  Zed’s wrist was aching from the dozen or so pages of notes he had been scribbling. Porton rules forbade the direct copying of classified documents, though in the circumstances that was hardly the issue. There was no mains power in this part of the building.

  Zed was escorted back to the main canteen just in time for lunch. The sounds and smells of hot food were unmistakable. More than a hundred workers were collected around dozens of small tables. Half the personnel were military; the rest seemed to either wear lab coats or civilian clothing that gave no clue as to their role at the facility. In the far corner, he spotted the colonel seated with several other men he didn’t recognise. In front of them each sat a humble bowl of rice and chilli.

  “How did you get on?” asked the colonel, when he’d finished his mouthful.

  “Very informative. It was like drinking from a firehose.” Zed sighed.

  “In a good way?”

  “Oh yes. Ephesus knows more about the history of scientific research in this area than anyone I’ve ever met. It would take a week to read through all the reports he suggested. There’s a lot to assimilate.”

  “We don’t have a week. The helicopter is coming back for us tomorrow. We need to be back at the hospital before dark. Did you get the impression he was holding anything back?”

  “Hard to say for sure. He knew most about post-war and Cold War-era programmes, but when it came to the last ten years, his knowledge became a bit sketchy.

  “Hardly surprising. Since everything was scanned and computerised, he’s more a curiosity these days. A relic from another era.”

  “He admitted as much himself. Said there’s been little need for his skills of late. He did mention that some of the most highly classified documents were never digitised, for obvious reasons.”

  “Hardly surprising. They wouldn’t want them in the official records.”

  “Nevertheless, they kept paper copies just in case. He might just be the only person who knows of their existence.”

  “What about Iraq and Wildfire? Was he any help?”

  “Not really. Perhaps I had unrealistic expectations. I just hoped someone could shed more light on what happened after the project was terminated.”

  “If the archivist doesn’t know, then Doctor Hardy and Major Donnelly are probably your last hope, if we can get them to talk. As for Wildfire, I suspect there are very few people left alive who know more than you do.”

  The man next to the colonel stirred at the mention of Project Wildfire. He nudged the colonel to get his attention, waiting for an introduction.

  “Oh, my apologies. Zed Samuels, may I introduce Anton Peters? Anton is the Russia specialist I was telling you about.”

  Anton stood and inclined his head. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you. The colonel has told me much about your investigation.”

  He spoke in an educated voice, with a slight affectation that suggested English was not his first language.

  “I hear you’ve been asking questions about Russian links to Saddam?”

  “That’s right,” Zed replied, lowering his voice so that the neighbouring tables would not overhear their conversation. “We know Iraq was getting outside help. My working hypothesis is that Russia had outsourced some of its research and development to Iraq. The colonel suggested you might be able to shed more light?”

  Anton smiled knowingly, giving nothing away. “Why don’t we take a walk outside?” He slid his chair under the table and gave a small bow to his fellow diners.

  On their way out towards the main hall, Zed felt he was being watched. Out of the corner of his eye to his right, he noticed a well-dressed woman sitting alone. He was pretty sure she was following their departure. He gave into temptation and glanced towards her, but she instantly looked away. There was something about her that seemed so familiar. She was attractive with shoulder-length mousey-brown hair, and wore a dark trouser suit and cream blouse. He estimated she was roughly his age.

  Zed and Anton left the main building, past the security guards stationed near the swing doors. Outside, the temperature was already dropping as the sun sank lower behind the tree line.

  There were very few people out here, other than soldiers at their posts. Further down the road a team was unloading boxes and stores from a waiting truck. In the watchtower at the far end of the compound, he could see two soldiers pointing at something in the distance, beyond the fence.

  “So, Mr Samuels, you have my full attention. What is it I can help you with?”

  “The colonel told me you had first-hand knowledge of Russian weapons research, is that correct?”

  “Of course. My real name is Anton Vasily Petrovich. The colonel helped me relocate here shortly after the fall of the USSR.”

  In the cold autumnal air, his breath was just visible when he spoke. Anton kept checking around him, ke
eping his voice low.

  “So you actually worked for Biopreparat?”

  “Yes, I was based at the Vector Institute for many years. Do you know it?”

  “I’ve heard of it.”

  “It’s in Koltsovo, south-western Siberia, not far from the border with Kazakhstan. It’s the Russian equivalent of the American CDC or the US army’s Chemical and Biological Defence Command. When I was there, Vector was the centre of Biopreparat’s research operations in the eighties and nineties.”

  “So Vector was not dissimilar to Porton Down?”

  “I suppose so. We undertook research into many different pathogens, such as smallpox, Marburg, bubonic plague.”

  “What was the purpose of the research? To evaluate known threats or to develop weapons based on them?”

  “In my view, they are one and the same. Doing one without the other is hard. When I was there, Biopreparat already had more than sixty thousand employees and was still growing.”

  Zed struggled to hide his surprise at that statement. It suggested that the USSR had covertly maintained its weapons programmes. “Surely by the early nineties the USA and USSR were rolling back their size and scale? Hadn’t both countries signed up to the Biological Weapons Convention?”

  Anton stopped and studied Zed, perhaps unsure whether the naivety of the question was feigned or genuine.

  “They were paying lip service to international pressure. You have to remember that during the Cold War, there was minimal trust. The Kremlin believed that America would stop at nothing to destroy us. After the atomic bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, we knew the Americans were prepared to use weapons of mass distraction against their enemies. Our only chance was to maintain a viable deterrent. To build a lead in the arms race. Nuclear weapons were no longer politically acceptable, which meant biological weapons development took centre stage.”

  “How did Biopreparat manage to conceal its scale and purpose for that long?”

  “With difficulty. There were regular inspections. It became a full-time logistical operation to stay one step ahead of the inspectors. We got very good at moving around any incriminating equipment.” He laughed unapologetically.

  “They did the same thing in Iraq with the UN inspectors. They mounted a whole campaign of deception and disinformation.”

  “The Kremlin was deluded. They believed that, far from dismantling their programmes, the Americans were accelerating their research. Biopreparat had to keep pace, to stockpile ever increasing quantities of anthrax, plague virus, smallpox, tularaemia and other viable agents.”

  As they turned a corner, their stroll through the compound took them past a high-security unit with biohazard symbols on the outside door and a sign which read: “Hazardous waste: strictly no admittance”. There was a three-person maintenance team preparing to go inside, wrapping duck-tape around their wrists to seal their suits. One of them nodded at the two men as they passed.

  “That’s odd,” said Anton once they were out of earshot. “The power must be out in this section.”

  Looking back, Zed saw what Anton was referring to. The door’s three-bar brushed steel locking mechanism was disengaged and its keypad entry system deactivated. Unlike the other buildings they had seen, the security light above the door was not illuminated.

  “Remind me to ask the front desk to send someone to check it out. They’re always cycling through the grid trying to turn off power to the buildings they’re not using.”

  “Going back to what you were saying, surely the Americans must have known what the Kremlin was up to?”

  “I suppose so. Concealing ever-growing stockpiles of chemical weapons became impractical. We needed a way of continuing our research beyond the interference of the American inspectors. It was imperative that Biopreparat developed new biological weapons and pathogens that America would have no defence against.”

  “And those biological programmes were based at the Vector Institute?”

  “Vector was chosen because it was state of the art, heavily protected, almost impossible to penetrate. A whole Red Army regiment was based there. Security countermeasures like you would never believe. The Americans made many unsuccessful attempts to recruit Vector scientists, to infiltrate the facility.”

  “So what happened?”

  “Eventually they found a way in. The colonel tells me that MI6 had a deep cover agent, working in one of the labs, feeding them information. They were particularly interested in a former student of mine, Doctor Sergei Netyosov. Back then, he was already a rising star, a brilliant young scientist. MI6 were convinced that Sergei was on the brink of some dramatic breakthrough that might give the Soviets an unassailable lead.”

  “Do you know what he was working on?”

  “He was a pioneer in genetic engineering. He was attempting to splice together different strains of a virus. He called it a ‘chimaera virus’. A hybrid.”

  Zed thought back to the UNSCOM files documenting the various Iraqi programmes led by Taha al-Azawi. “The Iraqis had a parallel research project,” he said.

  “I assure you, that’s no coincidence.”

  “And yet Doctor Hardy was so dismissive of this research. He said that the creation of such a hybrid virus was pure science fiction.”

  “He would say that.” He laughed. “The British were sceptical that another team could have pioneered this gene-splicing technology before them. They were blinded by their own arrogance. I assure you, the real experts were based at Moscow’s Ivanovsky Institute of Virology. To my mind, they were the ones who first created a hybrid virus. They were said to be able to control how it behaved, in some respects.”

  “Such as?”

  “I don’t know. Make it more resistant, extend its incubation period, insert a kill switch?”

  “Do you think it feasible that they could have programmed the virus to target certain geographies or demographics? Specifically the West?”

  “Theoretically, yes. Sorry, I forget, you’re not a virologist, are you? This has actually been proven before. The Russians were not the first to design a biological agent to target certain ethnicities. Have you come across Project Coast in your research?

  “Not that I remember.”

  “During the apartheid regime, the South African government launched a notorious inoculation programme designed to lower fertility rates in the indigenous black population. It was hidden within a vaccine for Yellow Fever. That was just the start. Wouter Basson headed up Project Coast. He was authorised by President PW Botha himself to use all means necessary for so-called social engineering. They researched the potential deployment of other biological agents such as anthrax, cholera, thallium, Ebola and Marburg for use in smaller-scale activities such as assassination attempts of human rights activists and prominent ANC leaders.”

  “I’m familiar with the apartheid regime but I’ve never heard about the rest. How did they get away with it? Surely there was international outrage?”

  “It only came to light much later on. My point is that it wasn’t just the South Africans and Russians who were looking at bioweapons. Saddam Hussein was an early adopter, particularly against ethnic minorities in Iraq and Iran. There was no question. Collaboration between South Africa and Iraq was later proven. Apartheid regime scientists visited Baghdad on several occasions, inspecting factories and production facilities. I also know that some of my former Vector team ended up working in Iraq and Libya.”

  “So this gene-splicing technology you mentioned, do you happen to know which viruses they were experimenting with? I’m specifically interested in Spanish flu.”

  “It was a closely guarded secret. Sergei Netyosov’s research was classified. I heard rumours that he had perfected a strain of the plague virus, resistant to all antibiotics. If true, it could easily have been deployed to wipe out large numbers in targeted population areas.”

  “With so many defectors, were they not able to confirm any of these rumours?”

  “If anyone would have known,
Vladimir Pasechnik would have. He defected before me in 1989. He swore he had no knowledge of Sergei’s programmes.”

  “But you still think it’s credible that they could have outsourced Sergei’s work to the Iraqis? I keep hearing rumours that there was a team at al-Hakam working on something like this, off the books.”

  “Why not? I’m saying it’s possible, yes. Biopreparat had prioritised research into viruses.”

  “Such as?”

  “I’m sure the colonel has told you about our early work with smallpox.”

  “Remind me.”

  “For several years we fell in love with smallpox. The Americans had run down their vaccine stocks. Smallpox was no longer considered a threat.”

  “Then why the change of heart?”

  “The problem was that smallpox does not occur naturally. Humans are the virus’s only known host capable of spreading the infection. So any outbreak could be quickly contained with quarantine measures. Even if the virus had been genetically re-engineered, an outbreak would be, at best, limited.”

  “I see. Whereas with influenza, humans are not the only hosts.”

  “That’s right. Birds and pigs can also incubate and contract the virus.”

  They had walked as far as they could in the compound, reaching a new area of fence prematurely sealing off several disused buildings that had fallen into disrepair, cannibalised for building materials.

  To the right, new foundations had been laid. Tools and wheelbarrows abandoned where they had been left at the end of a shift. The exposed steel skeleton of an unfinished building whistled in a gust of wind.

  Something beyond the fence caught Zed’s eye. Two half-hidden figures watching them through binoculars. He cradled his left arm and wrist instinctively, remembering what had happened last time he came here. The ambush, the explosion, the vehicle rolling on its side. Pulled from the smoking wreckage by Briggs’s men. The interrogations and torture that ended in his rescue. Suddenly he felt vulnerable so far from the main building. He turned on his heels and gestured Anton to start back.