by David Bruns
He was a man looking for a purpose; she was a woman with a life’s mission.
They fit together, like puzzle pieces. It was Talia who conceived the idea, Talia who selected the research team, Talia who suggested he start a business relationship with Haim Zarecki that led to the Arab-Israeli Benevolence Coalition.
And JP was her willing tool.
As she continued her career in the World Health Organization and JP built his biotech company, together they planned to change the world.
“Sir, it’s time to go,” Kasim said. His head of security held the door open for JP and Talia.
Kasim strutted ahead of JP down the gleaming hallway toward the common room. They passed another security monitor, and JP saw the van door opening and the scientists being escorted toward the elevator. Kasim spoke softly into his radio in Arabic, instructing the men in the garage to search the scientists’ baggage for any electronics.
They waited in the common room, where the elevator doors opened. The space was set up as a family room, with a large dining table adjacent to a kitchen. Stainless-steel appliances gleamed next to modern white cabinets and a snow-white quartz countertop where a bottle of champagne on ice waited. Opposite the kitchen was a large lounge area with couches and armchairs, two massive flat-screen TVs, and a stocked library.
A stack of laptops and tablets waited for the staff. They were not allowed to bring any devices into the compound, and all the provided electronics worked only on the local area network. The sole internet access point was located in the bunker behind a secure door adjacent to Talia’s bedroom.
Dr. Lakshmi Chandrasekaran exited the elevator first, the rest of the group trailing her, uncertainty evident in their posture. Lakshmi was Talia’s age, but shorter and darker, with a round face and a high-pitched, tittering laugh. She rushed to embrace Talia.
Of all the recruits, Lakshmi was the only one with whom either JP or Talia had a prior connection. Talia had been adamant that her undergrad roommate be part of the team. While the young Indian woman’s microbiology credentials were solid, she was not essential to the effort. Moreover, there was something about Lakshmi that bothered JP, and his long-ago DGSE training told him not to dismiss the feeling.
Without asking, Lakshmi assumed the role of hostess as Talia circulated among the new arrivals. She poured flutes of champagne and a fruit juice for Dr. al-Harbi, who was a strict practicing Muslim.
JP mingled, welcoming the scientists and assessing their states of mind after the trip. Katie McDonough, the Australian synthetic biologist, and Greta Berger, the Swedish CRISPR expert, seemed to have formed a friendship during their travels. They greeted JP warmly, then went back to their discussion of genetic tailoring without missing a beat.
Good, JP thought. Their collaboration would be essential if Winslow came through with the paleo samples.
Dr. Lu Xianshan, an expert in aerosol mechanisms in viruses, greeted JP in his perfunctory way and went back to his drink. His square face absorbed the surroundings and he seemed satisfied.
JP moved on to Dr. Faraj al-Harbi, a shy, bearded Saudi national. He had hooded dark eyes that avoided contact with JP’s gaze and soft hands with long thin fingers, like a piano player. “Thank you for the fruit juice,” he said in a soft voice.
JP nodded, trying to engage the younger man’s gaze with a smile. “I honor your commitment to your faith, my friend. And to your work.”
He was about to go on when Lakshmi appeared at his elbow with a glass of champagne. “I think this might be a good time to say a few words, Jean-Pierre.”
JP tamped down a flash of anger. Nevertheless, he tapped his glass with a pen and waited for their attention.
He could feel their intrigue about the mysterious journey they had taken to get here. They had all met for the first time in Khartoum, where JP had people in place to rid them of excess baggage and anything that might possibly be used as a communications device to the outside world. They were signing up for an extended stay in a secure location, and he wanted to make sure the location stayed secure.
The plane trip from Khartoum to the nearby airstrip should have been less than thirty minutes, but he had the pilot take a roundabout route of nearly two hours to confuse anyone who was trying to track their final destination.
All they knew was that they were somewhere in Africa.
JP raised his glass, offering his best professional smile. “Welcome to Project Deliverance.”
He saw glances shift between new acquaintances. Lakshmi moved among them, topping off their glasses.
“It has been one of the highlights of my professional career getting to know each of you and bringing you into our endeavor. I appreciate your patience during the process of traveling here. I can assure you: It was all necessary.” He offered a self-deprecating chuckle.
“You are about to embark on one of the most important scientific journeys of the twenty-first century. That sounds grand, I know, but I believe what we are about to undertake is no less significant than the space race was in the last century.”
He rested his glass on the counter and clasped his hands behind his back. He needed to project sincerity.
“The space race of the last century was between two superpowers. The United States and the Soviet Union embarked on a technological battle that yielded untold benefits for the rest of mankind. Microprocessors, advances in food preservation, satellite TV—okay, maybe we shouldn’t be thankful for that one.” JP earned a laugh from the group.
Tensions were easing. Dr. al-Harbi leaned toward him.
“The twenty-first century offers a new race, a race where one does not need billions of dollars to be a player. A race where the arena is microscopic. Genetics is the future of humanity. We can use that knowledge for good—or for evil.”
He went from face to face, slowly, searching for connection and finding it.
“We should not kid ourselves. The space race was about military superiority. The ICBMs that threaten our very existence today are a result of that time. But the threats of today are even more dangerous. Today, if you have a lab in your basement, and just a little expertise, you can make a virus that could kill millions of people.”
JP stabbed at the air with his finger as he picked up the cadence of his speech. “We talk about this in ethics classes. We lament our fate at conferences. It’s the curse of Pandora’s box, we say. The genie is out of the bottle.” JP paused for dramatic effect.
“Project Deliverance is more than just a research project. It is a plan to save the human race from itself. Together, we will stamp out the most vile diseases that can be created by the hand of man. But to slay a monster, you must know that monster. You”—he swept his finger across the semicircle of scientists—“are only half of Project Deliverance. Colleagues of equal brilliance are sequestered in a location not unlike this one waiting to slay whatever viral dragon you send to them.”
Greta Berger raised her hand. “You mean we’re going to create new viruses? Bioweapons?”
JP nodded. “Exactly. This is a Red Team–Blue Team exercise. You create the problem, they solve it. Over time, we will not only build up the vaccination defenses against any conceivable disease, but we will write the book on how to rapidly defend against anything new that might slip past the creative minds in this room.”
Dr. al-Harbi chimed in. “Isn’t that what the WHO does?”
JP made a sour face. “During the Ebola outbreak of 2017, I was in Sierra Leone. I was there in the Congo in 2018 as well. Was there a vaccine? No. Was there coordination between governments to create one? No.
“Disease knows no borders. In times of extreme crisis, politics and governments are roadblocks to success. They are barriers that kill millions of innocent people. Project Deliverance will break through all those unnecessary boundaries. We are scientists. We see the truth in its full glory and we seek knowledge for the betterment of our fellow humans.”
“But to create viruses so dangerous…” Katie McDonough’s
accent betrayed her Australian roots. “It seems reckless. What if someone steals them?”
JP nodded. “Now you understand the need for absolute secrecy. Now you understand the security that is so evident here.” He picked up his glass of champagne.
“I ask you to stand and join me in a toast.” JP waited as everyone got to their feet; then he raised his glass.
“To Deliverance!”
CHAPTER 16
Tysons Corner, Virginia
Don Riley adjusted the tray of pastries on the credenza and lifted the pump handle on the coffeepot. Everything had to be perfect for this visit.
His phone buzzed, an incoming text from the security officer on the front desk. Mattias is in the building.
Don wiped his hands on his trousers and smoothed the front of his suit coat. He took a deep, cleansing breath. Emerging Threats was about to give their first major presentation.
For Don, everything was on the line. A private briefing for the CIA’s ops and resources director was a rare event. Mattias controlled the finances, equipment, and personnel in the Directorate of Operations.
While not technically part of Don’s official chain of command, the head of the Operations and Resources staff carried enormous sway within the CIA power structure. His visit meant Don’s group was on someone’s radar.
In the never-ending budget battles that went on in the bureaucracy of every government agency, results mattered—and Dylan Mattias was a man who demanded results. If Mattias liked what he heard, Don’s stock would rise.
If not, well, there were two sides to every coin.
The door to the conference room snapped open and Mattias entered. His dark hair was swept straight back from his forehead, with just enough hair product to hold it in place, but not enough to make him look smarmy. The flash of gray at his temples hinted that his age was north of forty, even if his youthful face said midthirties.
He was fit and moved with energy, his tailored Italian suit clinging to him like a second skin. Like most case officers, he acted with a quiet confidence that came from a lifetime of persuading people to do things they didn’t want to do. He crossed the room to greet Don, hand outstretched, with a wide smile.
“Don,” he said, “it’s been a long time. How’ve you been way out here in the sticks?”
Don returned the smile, doing his best to mirror the other man’s warmth and confidence—even though he felt neither. “Fine, Dylan. The new digs are great.”
Mattias’s attention to detail was legendary. Don could see that the man was assessing everything. The quality of the security protocols, the behind-target staffing levels, probably even the quality of the coffee and Don’s damp handshake.
“We brought in a couple things for breakfast—”
“Already ate,” Mattias cut him off. “Let’s get down to it.”
Don threw a questioning glance at the door. “Did you bring any staffers?”
Mattias shook his head and sat down, pulling a slim notebook from his jacket pocket and a gold Cross pen. “This is just you and me today, Don. The director asked me to take stock of the situation and make some recommendations.”
Recommendations. The word hit home like a punch in the stomach. Emerging Threats had been active for only a few months and now Mattias was here to make “recommendations.”
“Right.” Don kept the frozen smile in place. “Let me pull in the team.”
Mattias pointed at the seat across from him. “I thought maybe you and I could chat for a few moments first.”
Don did his best to look nonchalant, but inside his stomach was gushing acid. He drew the chair out, feeling his armpits slicken with new sweat. “Sure thing. What’d you have in mind?”
Mattias made a show of opening his notebook and dating a fresh page. He laid the pen across the open page. “This is a great opportunity for you, Don. For us. We’re at a crossroads. Politically speaking, I mean. No one in the administration wants to get involved in another overseas conflict.”
Mattias gave a what-can-you-do shrug. “‘Emerging threats’ means different things to different people, so I want to be clear. Your job is to stop these issues before they emerge into the public awareness. This Mahdi character needs to be contained.”
“I’ve got my best people on it,” Don said. “Anything we can do to put this thing to bed quickly, these three are the ones who will get it done.”
Mattias tapped his pen on his open notebook. “These are the same three who were involved in the North Korea incident, correct?”
“The very same. If there’s something there, they’ll find it.” Don paused. “That said, we are very early in this process. ‘Emerging threats’ by definition means that we don’t have the full picture, so drawing conclusions from any analysis is not only difficult, but dangerous.”
Mattias squinted across the table. “We get paid to make the hard choices, Don. The president is crystal clear on this point: He wants to play offense. If we have anything that smells actionable, we deal with it quickly, and quietly.”
Don took a deep breath. This was moving very fast and not in the direction he had anticipated. Everett, Ramirez, and Goodwin needed to be extremely careful with their speculations in front of Mattias.
“Let’s see what your superstars have for us, Don,” Mattias said.
As the three officers trooped in together, Don couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride. The trio looked every inch the smart, young professionals they were—and he’d had a hand in making that transformation happen.
Dre Ramirez had been just what the group needed to reconstitute their previous balance of skills. She wore a business pantsuit that hung on her slim hips and a cream-colored blouse under a dark blue jacket. She was the first to greet Mattias and shook his hand with confidence as she introduced herself. Whatever demons she had been dealing with in Hawaii were behind her as far as Don could see.
Janet wore a stylish royal-blue dress and had pulled her blond hair back into a ponytail. She eyed Mattias warily. As the spokesperson for the group, she was sizing up her audience.
Michael Goodwin had paid a visit to the Men’s Wearhouse. His suit was off the rack, but the young man had the physique to make it look good. Don still harbored a special sense of pride in Goodwin. He’d recruited the young man to the Naval Academy and been there as he grew from a kid into a naval officer.
Mattias held on to Goodwin’s hand after they shook. “Michael Goodwin,” he said. “I read your paper on bioinformatics as it applies to warfare. Impressive.”
Don raised his eyebrows. He hadn’t known Michael had even authored a paper on bioinformatics.
Michael reddened. “Thank you, sir. It seemed like a natural connection. Predicting the variability of an epidemic seems like a good way to approach the larger issue of bioweapons. We spend so much time on the issue of lethality, but I think the real key is the transmission method.”
Mattias was still nodding as he took his seat. He surveyed the three officers. “It’s your dime, ladies and gentlemen. Don here tells me you three have been looking at this Nile River basin issue, top, bottom, and sideways. Let’s hear what you have to say.”
Janet touched the smart screen that was slaved to her desktop back in the Cave, the group nickname for their office. She summarized what they knew about the Mahdi so far.
“So, you think Egypt is behind the attack?” Mattias interrupted. “What about Iran?”
“The Mahdi is a religious figure in Islamic culture; the name roughly translates as ‘reborn’ or ‘messiah.’ The term is not in the Quran, but has broad cultural significance. Depending on which sect of Islam you are from, the meaning of the Mahdi can take different forms, but the general arc of the story is the same: the second coming of a unifying religious figure who precedes the Day of Judgment.”
Mattias stroked his chin. “Day of Judgment. That sounds ominous. Does the Mahdi give us any indication of how and when this day of judgment will take place?”
Janet shook her he
ad. “The Mahdi and his followers take great care to ensure their message is able to be consumed by a secular audience.” She briefly described how the site accommodated language translation automatically. “They are extremely tech-savvy. To date, we’ve been unable to hack their website. That’s very unusual.”
“And what conclusions do you draw?” Mattias pressed her.
Don was relieved at Janet’s cautious answer. “They’re well funded, for starters. And they have access to some serious cryptographic resources.”
“But what’s their goal? They have a stated desire to remove all foreign direct investment from the region, which leaves what?” Mattias let the question hang in the air.
Goodwin spoke up. “I’ve examined the foreign investment in the region, sir.”
He threw a spreadsheet onto the screen and scrolled through a long list of projects separated by dollar amounts and region. The total was into tens of billions of dollars, with thousands of line items. Don’s eyes scanned through construction companies, business parks, medical clinics, schools, new road projects.
“There’s nothing here that is out of the ordinary for projects of this scale,” Michael continued. “Most of them are run via shell companies, which is par for the course in this region of the world, but all of them are legitimate as far as we can tell.”
“So, your conclusion is what?” Mattias continued pressing for an answer.
“I think we don’t really have enough—” Don began.
“I’d like to hear what your team has to say, Don,” Mattias said.
Janet spoke carefully, weighing her words. “Egypt would have the most to lose as these dams come online.”
“Is there any indication that Iran is backing this Mahdi operation?” Mattias asked.
“Nothing conclusive,” Janet said.
“There is another possibility,” Michael said.
The room went still. Janet, Dre, and Don all stared at the young man, but Michael had a pensive expression on his face. Don knew that look. Michael’s brain was working overtime. Don started to interrupt, but Mattias was quicker.
