The Pandora Deception--A Novel

by David Bruns

  “What are you waiting for?” she said in an impatient voice. “Get started.”

  The man gathered an armful of red canisters and began jogging through the village. At each house, he pulled out the grenade pin and lobbed a canister through the open door. A few seconds later, a flash of blinding white seared Alfred’s eyeballs. The houses began to burn.

  The last house was Simon’s house.

  “I’ll do this one,” she said. “You carry the priest in.”

  The sun was blocked out by the bulk of the man standing over him. He seized Alfred’s collar and dragged him through the dust. Alfred tried to pray but the words were just out of reach.

  His legs bumped over the doorsill and he was inside, out of the sun. Simon’s tiny body lay next to the door like some macabre melted wax figurine.

  Alfred’s body dropped to the dirt floor. He rolled on one side. The wound in his chest didn’t hurt anymore … that was probably a bad sign.

  Alfred heard the man grunt and he raised his eyes. The woman stood in the doorway, a gun in her hand.

  She shot once, twice, three times, a tremendous noise in the enclosed space. The big man’s knees buckled. He collapsed next to Alfred.

  He could see her bright blue eyes sparkle as she pulled the pin from the last grenade and tossed it into the house. This woman was enjoying herself.

  “You picked the wrong week to say Mass, Father.”

  Alfred closed his eyes as she walked away. In his mind, he was in the desert on his bicycle. It was early morning and he was singing a hymn at the top of his voice.

  He looked at the sun and it grew brighter and brighter …

  CHAPTER 37

  Camp Lemonnier, Djibouti, Africa

  The secure briefing room at the Camp Lemonnier tactical operations center was set up like a virtual boardroom. Janet and Don sat together behind a broad desk facing a wall full of screens large enough that the people they were briefing appeared life-sized. The clarity of the video connection was perfect, but there was a half-second delay in the uplink, which left Janet with the unsettling feeling that the meeting was operating in slow motion.

  Only two of the screens were live. Janet recognized Dylan Mattias from the CIA’s Operations and Resources Management branch, from their meeting in DC when Michael had committed them to man-weeks of work on financial transactions. The other participant was new to her.

  Janet studied Judy Simonsen, the assistant to the director for foreign intelligence relations. With a broad, open face and a ready smile, she looked more like a middle-aged housewife than a powerful CIA insider, but Don had been clear: She was the one to convince in this briefing. Her thick brown hair was cut in a curled bob and she wore a bright pumpkin-colored scarf and matching earrings.

  “How are you finding Camp Lemonnier, Lieutenant Everett?” Simonsen said.

  “It’s fine, ma’am,” Janet replied.

  The woman laughed, a hearty guffaw. “I spent a year there one week. I did not think it was fine.”

  “Are we ready yet, Don?” Mattias cut in. “I have a hard stop in thirty minutes.”

  “Patience, young Jedi,” Simonsen chided Mattias. “Let the techies do their job.”

  In the full-sized, high-def picture, Janet saw Mattias’s jaw muscle bunch up. The light on the wall above the screens shifted from red to green.

  “I have us secure,” Don said. He nodded to Janet to put up the first slide on the shared screen.

  “Finally,” Mattias muttered. “Show us what you’ve got, Don.”

  The picture on the screen showed a single timeline aligning three suspected bioweapons tests with the Mahdi terrorist attacks.

  “What you’re seeing here are three instances of attacks on small villages, two in Yemen and a new one in South Sudan, overlaid with terrorist attacks on installations in the Nile River basin by the terrorist known as the Mahdi.” Don was sweating, but his voice was steady.

  “I thought we were here to discuss the Mahdi and Iranian connections, Don,” Mattias said. “Why are we looking at small village attacks in Yemen?”

  “Maybe if you give Mr. Riley more than thirty seconds to speak, he could connect the two, Dylan,” Simonsen said.

  Mattias glowered as Don continued: “We believe that all three of these attacks were possible bioweapons tests. In the first case, we have a mobile-phone call that described the entire village as dead and the bodies as ‘melted.’”

  “We have a very garbled mobile-phone call, Don,” Mattias said. “I speak Arabic and the translation is suspect. Let’s not overstate the case.”

  “Why can’t we confirm it?” Simonsen asked.

  “The village was destroyed in a Saudi air strike, ma’am,” Don said.

  “Hmm. Convenient.”

  Don plowed forward. “The second attack is now considered a confirmed use of a bioweapon. An outbreak of Ebola was found in a small village in Yemen by a Doctors Without Borders advance team. The date of this incident coincided with an unexpected cease-fire in Yemen. It is possible that this cease-fire interfered with the Saudi efforts to destroy the site.”

  “Your conclusion is that the Saudis are behind a bioweapons attack?” Mattias’s voice was incredulous. “That’s a very serious charge to level against a US ally.”

  “You’re calling this a confirmed bioweapons attack, Don?” Simonsen asked.

  “Correct, ma’am. The virus was traced to a sample taken from the World Health Organization office in Cairo.”

  Janet changed the screen to show a picture of an attractive woman with dark brown skin and blazing blue eyes. Auburn hair cascaded down her shoulders in loose waves. “This is Dr. Talia Tahir from the WHO. She was transporting samples from the Cairo office to the Brazzaville office in Africa when she died in a plane crash. One of the samples she was carrying was the same strain of the Ebola virus which was used in the attack on Melaba. In the course of her duties, Dr. Tahir has been in Yemen at least ten times in the past five years.”

  “And the third instance?” Mattias said.

  Don cleared his throat as Janet put up a satellite photo of a burned-out village, two rows of blackened pits where structures used to be, separated by a narrow dirt track.

  “This is the village of Akwar in South Sudan. We discovered this incident a few days ago. The devastation of the site suggests extreme prejudice was used to obliterate this village, probably using incendiaries.”

  “And were there any indications of a bioweapons attack here?” Mattias asked.

  “Unknown.” Don swallowed hard. “Even if we could get an asset there, the possibility of anything surviving a fire that intense is minuscule. These are brick houses. Whoever did this turned them into cremation ovens.”

  “Do we even know if there were bodies in these structures?” Simonsen asked.

  “We do not, ma’am.”

  Simonsen looked stern. “Then why does this have relevance, Mr. Riley?”

  “Our theory is the Mahdi terrorist attacks are being used as a distraction for the bioweapons events. Following the latest Mahdi attack in Egypt, we went looking for evidence of a bioweapons test. We found this. The size and scale of the destruction fits a pattern.”

  “And your assumption is that the Mahdi was unable to use Yemen for this test because of the cease-fire,” Simonsen said.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “What would it take for us to confirm this was an actual bioweapons test site?” Simonsen pressed.

  Mattias entered the conversation. “If we went through diplomatic channels it would be weeks of negotiation and some very probing questions that we do not want to answer. If we sent in a covert team, it’s a week of planning and risk of discovery. At the moment, all our assets are tied up with the Egypt situation.”

  Since the Mahdi attack on the Toshka desert project, the Egyptian army had been massing along the border with Sudan. Special forces cross-border raids were reported and the international news cycle was rife with rumors of a full-scale military assau
lt into Sudan. Even the Ethiopians were preparing for war. All of the United States’ diplomats, military commanders, and intel officers were focused on stemming the conflict within the region.

  “But that’s the point we’re trying to make,” Don said. “If the Mahdi is planning something big, he needs a major distraction to shift attention away from his real purpose. What could be more distracting than a war over the Nile River?”

  Don leaned forward, his voice earnest. “What we do is not an exact science. We had a theory. We tested the theory and came up with a viable answer. That alone suggests that we’re on to something.”

  Mattias made no attempt to dampen his sarcasm. “And what exactly are you on to, Mr. Riley? I don’t see any evidence here. I see some circumstantial bits that might fit together if we look at them a certain way. This whole thing is flimsy.”

  Simonsen plucked at her scarf. “Tell us more about the Mahdi, Mr. Riley.”

  Janet showed a screenshot of the Mahdi website. “The Mahdi website has extensive cryptographic capabilities, very uncharacteristic of these types of terrorist organizations.”

  “I’ve heard enough,” Mattias interrupted. “We have three possible bioweapons attacks, possibly linked to three terrorist attacks by a possible terrorist organization led by a leader of whom we know nothing. Do I have that right, Don?”

  Don stared straight ahead, his mouth set in a firm line. Every word of Mattias’s assessment was landing like a hammer on Don’s skull.

  “With regard to the terrorist,” Mattias continued, “we have been unable to ascertain a physical location for him and we have no clue what his next target might be.”

  “The name of my group is Emerging Threats, Dylan,” Don snapped. “My team has provided an analysis that holds up to a first level of scrutiny. I realize it’s not actionable yet, but based on experience I think we’re on to something.”

  “I appreciate your candor, Don,” Mattias said. The smile was thin, just short of a sneer. “But we have professionals in these regions who are looking at the same information and coming to a very different conclusion.”

  “What do you propose as a next step, Mr. Riley?” Simonsen’s voice was measured.

  “I’d like to bring the Israelis in on this,” Don said. “All of it.”

  Mattias threw up his hands in frustration. “The Israelis? Are you out of your fucking mind?”

  “I think that request deserves an explanation, Don,” Simonsen said. “After the Stuxnet incident, that’s going to be a hard sell.”

  The Israelis and the Americans had worked together on a years-long, staged computer virus attack to stop the Iranian uranium enrichment project. While the project itself was successful overall, the Israelis got impatient. Without consulting the Americans, they released a modified Stuxnet virus, allowing the covert attack to be exposed in the media. Even after more than a decade, there were still people in the CIA who held a grudge.

  “The cryptography used on the Mahdi website came from Israel,” Don said. “Mossad is unable to find their mole. I suggest a new plan: Instead of trying to find the mole, why not use him?”

  “A sting operation, that’s what you’re suggesting?” Simonsen said.

  “Exactly, ma’am.”

  “What’s the price of admission?” Mattias said.

  “We tell the Israelis everything we know,” Don said. “Hold nothing back. We make the Mahdi think we’re about to come through his front door. Then we see if he blinks.”

  CHAPTER 38

  Mossad headquarters, Tel Aviv, Israel

  Dre and the rest of the ET crew followed Shira down the narrow concrete hallway underneath Mossad headquarters. There would be no tea and sandwiches for this meeting with Binya Albedano.

  The Mossad director of ops was waiting in the “bubble,” along with another man, who did not introduce himself.

  Dre shivered. It was more than just the damp chill of the rough concrete walls. The harsh fluorescent lighting, the cheap table around which they gathered on mismatched folding chairs, the whole aura of the place gave her the creeps.

  Shira locked the doors of the “bubble” and engaged the knife switch on the circuit box next to the door. The light above the door shifted from red to green.

  Binya forced a smile. “Welcome back. I see you returned Shira in good working order.” It seemed to Dre that the worry lines at the corners of his mouth had deepened since she’d last seen the man.

  Don got right to the point. “I’ve been authorized to brief you on everything we have on the Mahdi and the attacks.”

  Dre studied the mysterious meeting participant. He was a heavyset man with thinning gray hair in a ragged crew cut. He had a way of hunching his shoulders forward and sinking his heavy face into the jowls of his neck that left the impression he was half asleep. But when she looked closer, she could see his eyes darting back and forth, hidden by his half-closed eyelids, like a frog waiting to catch a fly. The man locked eyes with her and she immediately looked away.

  “Please continue, Don,” Binya said. He shot a nervous side glance at the silent stranger. Clearly, the stranger was an influential man.

  Don quickly laid out the theory that the Mahdi attacks were being used to cover up for bioweapons tests, first in Yemen and now in South Sudan. When he reached the end of the briefing, he placed his folded hands on the table. In the ensuing silence, Dre imagined she could hear the hum of the jamming equipment protecting the room from electronic eavesdroppers.

  The big man at the end of the table stirred. “You were the one who passed on the lead about the Saudi financial transaction,” he said to Don.

  Don tilted his head toward Dre and her colleagues. “This is the team that hatched the idea and found the connection. It was a lot of work.” He threw a look at Michael. “I had my doubts at first.”

  When the big man nodded, his whole body moved back and forth. “That was good work.”

  Seconds passed until finally he said, “Because of your information, I was able to place an asset close to Jean-Pierre Manzul.”

  “The CEO of Recodna Genetics?” Janet blurted out. “What did you find out?”

  To Dre’s surprise, the big man smiled at Janet. “My name is Noam,” he said. “Do you know the term ‘kidon’?”

  “No, sir.”

  “‘Kidon’ is Hebrew for ‘tip of the spear.’ On paper, we don’t exist. We do all the jobs no one else wants to do.” Dre caught Janet’s eye. Her look confirmed what Dre was thinking: This guy was talking about assassinations.

  “My asset,” Noam continued. “She is one of the best. She has managed to clone Manzul’s phone.”

  “She cloned his phone?” Dre gasped. “Then we have him, right?”

  Noam shook his head. “Not exactly. Manzul is a professional. He uses face-to-face meetings, cutouts, burner phones, encrypted communications. The dump from the phone is not conclusive for anything we have discussed. However”—he raised his eyebrows, which was the biggest show of emotion he had made so far in the meeting—“we can track his phone now. On or off, doesn’t matter. If we can get him to return to the research lab, we have the location.”

  “I think I have a way,” Don said. “We use your mole.”

  Binya sagged in his chair. “We don’t know who it is yet, Don. Finding him—or her—will take more time.”

  “For what I have in mind, we can do it right now,” Don said. “Today.”

  “I’m listening,” Noam rumbled from the end of the table.

  “I want you to tell everyone the Americans cracked your software,” Don said. “You’re scrapping Cerberus because it’s not secure. The Americans can hack right through it.”

  Binya’s brows crunched together in a frown. “I don’t understand. How does that help us find the mole?”

  “It doesn’t,” Noam said. “But your mole is sure to report it and that will force Manzul’s hand. He will default to face-to-face meetings as the most secure method of communication. We can track him now.
It’s a good plan, Don.”

  “The existence of Cerberus is highly classified, even inside our own government,” Binya said. “How do we destroy a program that doesn’t officially exist?”

  “Gossip is the most powerful weapon in the world,” Noam said. “This afternoon, you announce your resignation, no reason given. Shira drops a word here and there about a failed top-secret program.”

  He pointed a stubby finger at Dre and her colleagues. “You parade these three around the cafeteria, strutting like a bunch of peacocks at how their superior American technology bested the Israelis once again.” He laced his fingers over his belly and leaned back in his chair. “Then we let nature take its course.”

  Binya’s face had gone ashen. “But … what about—”

  “Binya, we’re dealing with bioweapons here,” Don said. “We can’t stop the Mahdi if we can’t find him. Using the mole is our best option.”

  Dre watched the emotions play out across Binya’s face. If he resigned, he would never get his job back—or any other job in Mossad. No matter the outcome, there would never be a way to clear his name.

  “You will do it, Binya,” Noam said. “For the good of Israel. You will be taken care of, my friend. You have my word.”

  “Where will you be, Don?” Binya asked.

  “After they finish a victory lap around Mossad, Mr. Riley and his team will be back in Camp Lemonnier—with me,” Noam said. “When we find the Mahdi, we will need to move quickly.”

  CHAPTER 39

  Khartoum, Sudan

  In her dream, Rachel heard a phone ring. Her mobile. She recognized the ringtone. It was the one she used for Levi.

  The café around her was packed with tourists. Across the street, St. Peter’s Square thronged with bodies under the blazing Roman sun.

  She knew this place. This was where he—

  Her phone rang again and she snatched it up and cupped her hand over the mouthpiece.

  “Hello?” Her voice sounded breathy, scared.

  “Rachel, why are you there?” His voice.