Crystal Ice

by Warren Miner-Williams

  “Let’s not get into a pissing contest with this please gentlemen, you’ve both made valid points that require further investigation,” offered Ellen Augustein. “If we have to move offshore with this investigation, then so be it, but we may also lose control of it.”

  “Let us move on, shall we?” commanded Charles Fox. “What have we got on the import agent?”

  “The import agency for the five drums was ‘Fox, Brown and Wudka’” said SA Colosmo. “It’s a family business currently headed by a powerful lady called Adina Wudka, the great granddaughter of the company’s founders, Walter Fox and Angélique Brown. We’ve searched the bond store and the offices with a fine-tooth comb and found zip. However, we did find a can of Meadowsweet air freshener, the lavender kind, and, it was from one of the contaminated batches. When we asked the cleaner about it, she told us that it was a replacement for the one she was currently using.”

  “Hasn’t she seen the TV news or the newspaper headlines?” chipped in Mike Morrison.

  “She hasn’t got a TV and she says the newspapers are too depressing, so she doesn’t buy any. I know it’s weird, but it takes all to make a world. We interviewed all the staff and looked at all the security footage from the time the drums were first put in the bond store till they were moved a day later. No one went anywhere near them. The storeman, Ian Ferguson, said that expensive items, which the five drums represent, are only in the store for a very short time because they are debited production expenses that need to be utilised as quickly as possible, “Time is money,” as he kept on saying. So, it appears that ‘Fox, Brown and Wudka’ are not our terrorists either.”

  “OK then, how did the stuff get into the country?” asked Charles Fox.

  “Well before my colleague from the CIA puts in his two pennyworths,” replied Colosmo, “the drums arrived aboard the California Star, a container vessel owned by P&O Nedlloyd, captained by Henry, T, Smithson, who’s been aboard the ship since its maiden voyage in 1998. The crew has been with him and the vessel for between three and seven years, no additions or anyone leaving. They’re a mixed bunch, from Singapore, Korea, Australia, Italy and Croatia, to name just a few countries. I’ve got a complete list of the crew but can’t interview any of them because they’re currently in Japan. However, they’ll be in Hawaii on the 27th of this month.” He paused. “We could impound the ship there or wait till she arrives in San Diego seven days after that. Over to you Bud.”

  Bud Tillotson’s round, cheerful face belied his toughness. Before joining the CIA in the 1960s Bud had been a Marine and had distinguished himself in action during the war in Korea. Though a gentle man, slow to anger, no one who ever met Tillotson was in any doubt that to cross him would result in a painful resolution of affairs. Colosmo, however, was just too thick to realise it.

  “We’ve had the California Star under surveillance for nearly a month now, and to date she and her crew have a clean bill of health. We’ve found nothing suspicious about any of her cargo manifests. A few of the crew have minor convictions for drunkenness and traffic offences in a number of countries, but nothing serious. The behaviour of the crew gives no indication that they are involved with anything more than a little smuggling here and there. To all intents and purposes, this is a legitimate ship and crew. I suggest that the vessel is boarded in Hawaii and searched, but not impounded. We still want to prolong the pretence that the vessel is of no importance to the authorities, and we still have a few tricks up our sleeve to test whether any of the crew are supporters of an international terrorist group. We’ll keep you informed if we make any progress on this issue.”

  “Now,” he continued, “we also understand that the California Star picked up a container in Auckland, New Zealand, which contained the five drums of lavender oil. The drums were a part container load (PCL), made up by an import/export agent called Jonathan Littman. He’s been in business for over ten years and though he has been slapped on the knuckles, by the New Zealand Customs Service, for applying an incorrect tariff a couple of times, he seems legit.”

  “What’s a part container load Bud?” enquired Mike Morrison.

  “It’s one that holds goods from several importers or exporters. Nothing suspicious in that, it’s a regular practice to minimise the costs of small shipments that are less than a full container load. As far as we can tell shipments of essential oils to C & W Cooper all arrive as PCLs. Though valuable, they don’t take up much space. The five drums of lavender oil originated from the Tasman Estate Lavender Farm, in Tasmania, though it was containerised in New Zealand. This is the first occasion when oils bound for Cooper’s have been transhipped in New Zealand, instead of Australia. This particular consignment was transhipped in Auckland because it was combined with consignments of tea tree oil. The ship that carried it from Tasmania to New Zealand was the Olga Tovic. Although a Croatian conglomerate owns this vessel, it sails under the convenience flag of Liberia. It’s captained by a Goran Sumovich…”

  “Oh, that Sum of a vich,” interrupted Colosmo, laughing. No one else laughed.

  Bud continued without reference to the interruption. “The Olga Tovic is what we used to describe as a tramp steamer, she wanders around the globe to and from the Antipodes, picking up any lucrative cargoes on the way. This vessel has never shown up on our watch lists before. It may be too soon to say, but the Olga Tovic and the New Zealand connection all seem legit. We’ve had good co-operation with the New Zealand Secret Intelligence Service, and with the anti-terrorism intelligence analysts of the New Zealand Customs. We’ve scoured the paperwork from both ends of the shipping route, and again it all seems legit. When we asked the New Zealand Police to search their database for the ship it had a single hit. A ship’s stoker, a Māori guy, was lost overboard in a storm somewhere in the Mediterranean. It was logged correctly by the captain, who contacted the New Zealand Police as soon as he docked in the Port of Tauranga. We’ve dug around, with the help of the Organisation for Security and Co-operation in Europe, and the Croatian anti-terrorism unit. Nothing comes up, – no link between Sumovich, the Olga Tovic or any of its crew with either the terrorism in Croatia, the US Embassy bombs in Zagreb, or this attack. We’ve got some units in Tasmania rooting around for clues, but nothing’s turned up yet.”

  “Thanks Bud, that’s great,” said Charles Fox. “Mike, have you got anything to report about the viruses used in the attack?”

  As professional as ever Mike was well prepared.

  “The influenza virus belongs to a group of negative-stranded RNA viruses which contain the enzyme RNA replicase. Once a host cell is infected, this enzyme is released and rapidly makes complimentary copies of its RNA genome. We know from the research done by Ann Reid and Jeffery Taubenberger, who determined the genome of the 1918 Spanish Flu, that the gene sequence that controls the synthesis of RNA replicase is missing from their Spanish Flu samples. This enzyme is key to the reproduction of this virus, and thus its ability to cause disease. We believe that the virological engineers of this virus might have had the same problem, and so they synthesised this gene by substituting one from another virus. We’ve sent samples of this gene sequence to Reid and Taubenberger, who will determine the composition of the gene. If we discover how the RNA replicase gene has been substituted, then we will have a short list of virologists to investigate. In the meantime, we’ve isolated the RNA replicase and are trying to determine its amino acid composition. From this, we also hope to identify the substituting virus and arrive at the same list.”

  “Well done, Mike,” said Charles Fox, smiling at the virology expert. There was applause from the teleconferencing unit, as the other members of the investigative committee concurred.

  “Hang on guys, I’ve some other good news.” Added Mike Morrison, cutting short the adulation. “Fortunately, the so-called virology engineers who tried to develop this super bug have inadvertently saved thousands lives because of the way they combined the H1N1 and the H5N1 variants. It appears that when the two viruses were combined,
an antigenic shift occurred, that is to say there was a reassortment of the genes that control the hemagglutinin (H) and neuraminidase (N) antigenic proteins, and gave rise to a less virulent strain of the disease, not a more aggressive one. One that I’m convinced led to fewer people dying.”

  “No legitimate virology lab could manufacture large quantities of the virus covertly. It’s my contention that small samples of the live virus were supplied to the terrorist group in perhaps half a dozen embryonated hens’ eggs. Then someone in that organisation, with a working knowledge of viral cell culture techniques, well away from prying eyes, mass-produced the virus in hundreds more embryonated eggs. So, we’re not only looking for the original virologist who constructed the viral sub-type, but also in my view a terrorist group with the space, equipment and expertise to culture large numbers of the viruses. Even more miraculous is the fact that the H5N1 strain of bird flu often kills the chicken embryos before sufficient viruses are produced. I am sure that when the final multiplication of the virus took place the number of viruses created was not as many as would be expected. This I believe is a further reason why this attack didn’t become the world-wide pandemic we all feared.”

  “In summary, we have a set of rogue scientists who created the viral strain, and a group of terrorists who could manufacture the viruses in large quantities. The two groups must be off-shore, because the drums were tampered with before they arrived in the US. This group of terrorists must, then, be in either Tasmania or New Zealand. The original virologists could also be in these countries.”

  “No,” interjected Mike Morrison, “because there are no Biosafety Level 4 virology labs in either of those two countries. The virology engineers must have a level 4 containment lab. I can give you a list of those Bud.”

  “The terrorists must be in New Zealand or Tasmania, yes?”

  “Not necessarily. The virologists could be elsewhere. All we know is that the lavender oil was contaminated in Tasmania or New Zealand. The virus could have been smuggled into those countries in the form of egg products. My money is on freeze-dried albumen.” said Mike Morrison.

  “This smacks of being too complicated,” offered Colosmo, “To co-ordinate the production of the virus in one country, then smuggle it somewhere else, doesn’t fit easily to me. What sort of special gear would the terrorists need to mass produce these viruses, Mike?”

  “Some kind of incubator, a commercial sized one, and possibly a freeze-drying unit. That’s all. One other give away may be their need for hundreds of embryonated eggs. The really skilful work was accomplished in the original virology lab, because the mass production of the viruses is low-tech stuff. For their own safety though they would have to construct a glove box, in which they could inoculate the eggs, but again that’s low-tech stuff, someone handy with a few tools could improvise one in a few hours.”

  “OK, we now seem to have a narrower focus.” said Bud. “Now we need to find the virology lab that engineered the virus. And you guys seem to have a possible lead on that. I presume that there aren’t thousands of these, level 4 virology labs, anyway.”

  “No, I can draw up a list for you.” replied Charles Fox.

  “Then we have a terrorist group that employed someone with virology skills.” Bud shook his head. “The list of those must run into thousands.”

  “What about disgruntled ones?” interrupted Colosmo once more. “Ones who have worked in weapons research. That might narrow the list.”

  “Yes,” agreed Bud, “but they still could be any old virology technician from one of a thousand countries. Shit, it could be anyone, anywhere, couldn’t it?”

  “That’s about the shape of it,” agreed Mike.

  “Well, I’ll start with what we do know.” Said Bud. “We have two ships and their crews, four dockyards and three shipping agents. We have numbered customs seals and a lavender farm in Tasmania. Somewhere along that line there must be some clue that the terrorists have overlooked. Then at least we’ll know what colour of terrorist to look for – Muslim extremist, Basque separatist, or some other rebel band.”

  “Could it be a resurgent Al-Qaeda attack, Bud?” asked Ellen Augustein.

  Bud shook his head. “After the death of Bin Laden that group are rudderless. They would have declared their success very loudly. They haven’t said anything positive or negative about this. No, I don’t think it’s them.”

  Silence hung in the air. “If it’s not any of the usual terrorist groups, then who?” Stated Colosmo.

  Part III

  An Empire Falls

  32. Bitter Celebrations

  Looking into the tearful eyes of his brother, Levorko, Dino Sutic spoke in a whisper, his voice breaking with emotion, “Allah u Akbar,” Allah is the greatest, “Subhana rabbiya al azeem,” Glorified is my Lord, the Great. “Allah receive the heart of our youngest martyr, Terezija. Such an innocent life taken in the heat of battle. Please, we beg of you, be with her family Natalija and Matej Korošec. Strengthen the resolve of our brother in arms Matej, and give him the strength to carry on the fight. We bear arms in your holy name Lord, to defeat the infidel. Together we have achieved a great victory. We cannot understand why our sister had to be sacrificed, but we acknowledge that she is in your merciful hands now. Let her journey to paradise be at your side, O Lord Allah u Akbar.”

  “Allah u Akbar,” whispered Levorko, “Subhana rabbiya al azeem. Merciful Lord give strength to those who remain and guide them in the jihad in your holy name, Allah u Akbar.”

  The two brothers embraced one another with tears flowing down their faces. This was the worst event they had ever experienced. Many times, before, the bitterness of death had struck the Sutic family, yet not since the death of a third brother ten years ago, had the pain been so great. Tilen had been the eldest of the three Sutic brothers. He had been as great a leader as Matej Korošec was now. He had witnessed the horrific nadir of Srebrenica, he had seen in July 1995 the mutilated bodies of 8 000 Muslim men and boys, mercilessly butchered in the town by the Drina Corps of the Army of Republika Srpska, – the Bosnian Serbian Army. When Tilen arrived in Srebrenica after the killings, the odour of rotting human flesh hung over the town in a malodorous pall that induced retching even in the hardest of men who had liberated the town. Tilen was a colonel in the Bosnian Muslim Army (ABiH) and he and his men had witnessed all the execution sites: the Cerska Valley where nearly 1500 died, the Grbavci School and Orahovac execution sites where over 2500 were slaughtered, the Pilica School detention site, and Branjevo farm execution site, where another 1500 were murdered. Tilen had nightmares about these killings and the reports of the brutalisation of Muslim women in the area. He had held in his arms the broken body of a twelve-year-old girl, who had been sodomized by Serbian soldiers before they had beaten her to death. Soon after returning home in October 1995, Tilen was assassinated by a 19-year-old Bosnian Serbian Army soldier. The swath of bullets not only killed Tilen, but also his 10-year-old daughter, Ljudmila.

  Each tear shed for their brother and niece had fed the Sutics’ hatred of the Bosnian Serbs. The earlier tacit support of the Americans for the Serbs and their current war against the Muslim peoples of the world fuelled their determination that they would pay in blood for the deaths of their countrymen. The death of Tilen was the watershed that had transformed the surviving brothers’ grief into action. The jihad was compensation for the cumulative effects of past atrocities. They would smear the blood of the infidel across all the territories of the world. They would be made to pay for their maltreatment of the Muslim faithful. Drop for drop, Tilen’s spilt blood would be avenged.

  “Levorko, even though we have had to sacrifice just a single life in the war against the infidel, the Americans have suffered thousands. Though our pain is so much less than that of Natalija and Matej, such a blighted victory is a bittersweet pill to swallow. Our resolve to reap revenge on the unclean has surely been reinforced. Allah u Akbar.”

  “Allah u Akbar,” repeated Levorko.

&n
bsp; Again, the brothers embraced. Then, for the next three hours, they talked of their family and friends who had remained in Croatia. They remembered once again the good times, the marriages and the births. They recalled the funny times with their brother Tilen, and the jokes they all played on their father. They remembered too, girlfriends and lovers. It was past 4.00am when they left their restaurant, Terra Brasil, for home.

  ***

  Robert Jerman had followed the television reports, as well as those in the local Examiner, and the national Mercury newspapers. Now he knew what he had done in support of the jihad. Even though his role was minor, he was elated by the death toll caused by the influenza viruses in the aerosols that his lavender oil was a component of. Now he knew why all the secrecy was necessary, why the planning for this bio-weapon, as the newspapers had called it, had taken over two years. He recalled the man who had recruited him, Matej Korošec. He remembered also the old man in the Carlton Beach Surf Lifesaving Club. He had organised the unregistered customs seals that he had affixed to those drums at the Tasman Estate Lavender Farm, he had given the proper seals to that old man in the surf club, those seals that held the authentic serial numbers that would appear on all the paperwork associated with the exported lavender oil. Though he had played such a small part in the action, Robert’s role had been vital to its success. Now he basked in its glory, and damned the thousands who had fallen victim to their weapon. Puffed up with a confidence borne of his alter ego, Robert wondered when Matej would ask for his services again, to strike another blow to the heart of the infidel.