by David Archer
TEN
“Let’s go over that once more, shall we?” Albert asked. “You saw Mr. Embry make three trips out of the house carrying what appeared to be equipment and supplies for his laboratory?”
“Yes, for the fifth time,” Sam said. “He carried out two big boxes that looked like they had lab equipment, and then a glass jug in a wooden frame. Another man was carrying more equipment at the same time. There was some kind of thick liquid in the jug, and the way it was padded, I would personally bet that it was the poison itself.”
“And that container appeared to be of the gallon size?”
“It sure looked like it to me,” Sam said, growing irritable. “It looked like the kind of jug you buy a gallon of apple cider in, that kind. Screw-on cap, a little ring next to the opening where you can hook a finger.”
“Yes, yes, I’m familiar with the type of container you describe.” Albert looked over at Gilbert Higgins, a lab technician. “A gallon of this substance? Should I find that as terrifying as I do?”
Gilbert looked grim. “So far,” he said, “it has taken only a portion of a single drop to kill more than one person. In an Imperial gallon, we would be talking about approximately ninety thousand drops, or twenty thousand drops per liter. With an effective method of dispersal, a single liter of this liquid could easily kill as many as a hundred thousand people, and conceivably more than double that number.”
“Dear God in Heaven,” Albert said.
“I’m afraid it gets worse,” Gilbert said. “This type of liquid could also be aerosolized, converted into a mist that could be dispersed into the air. One liter of this stuff would equal more than thirty cubic feet of vapor. If that was to be introduced into the aircon system in the 02 Arena, with twenty thousand seats, I have my doubts that anyone would get out alive. For all we know, the mist could float in the air for hours. It’s conceivable it could spread out to cover a large area, several blocks. A single aerosolized droplet would be more than enough to kill, and you could be looking at millions of such droplets.”
Albert, Sam, Noah and everyone else stared at the man for several seconds.
“This is beyond me,” Albert said. He took out his phone and pushed a button. “Catherine? I need you to come to the conference room immediately. The situation has taken on graver possibilities than we ever imagined.” He listened for a moment, then simply ended the call and put the phone back into his pocket.
Catherine Potts entered the room a moment later, and Albert required Gilbert to repeat everything he had just said. She listened without interruption, then turned to Sam Prichard.
“We’ve not been introduced,” she said. “My name is Catherine Potts, and I am a case officer. I’m sure you’ve already answered this question many times, because I know Albert, but are you certain that you saw that large a container of the poison?”
“Am I certain,” Sam said, “I saw that large a container? Yes. Do I know for certain that it contained the poison? No, I’m simply going on the fact that it was very carefully packed. I can’t imagine anything else that Embry would have taken such care with at that moment. The man was basically fleeing for his life, I doubt he would have bothered to take such precautions for a gallon of Kool-Aid.”
Catherine looked into his eyes for a moment, then nodded. “I would have to agree with your logic.” She turned to Albert. “Do we have any lead on where Mr. Embry and his associates might have gone?”
“I’m afraid not,” Albert said. “By the time we were able to alert police, there was no sign of any vehicle that might have been the van Mr. Prichard and Mr. Cortlandt heard about. I’ve got people scanning traffic camera footage, but I have my doubts they are going to find anything.”
Catherine nodded again. “Then I’m afraid it’s time to seek greater assistance.”
She took out her phone and dialed a number. “Mr. Lambril? It’s Catherine Potts. This case you dropped on me has turned into something with staggering potential for loss of life. I’m going to need additional assets. Yes, sir, I’m going to need access to satellite footage for the last three hours, as well as contact with intelligence analysts. We’ve identified two suspects, and one of them is of Middle Eastern descent.” She listened for a moment. “At the moment, all we have is the name Tushar. I need to know if intelligence has come across that name in the past.”
She listened for another moment, then ended the call and set the phone on the table as she turned back to Albert.
“Someone from satellite imagery will be here shortly,” she said. “They’ll give you access to all of the satellite video footage for the last few hours, so you can try to locate the vehicle. That should give you the opportunity to get a description of it, at least. Also, a young lady from intelligence will be coming by. It seems this Tushar is not unknown to our chatter specialists, because our director has seen it in a few briefings. She’ll be able to give us at least some information.”
Albert rubbed a hand over his face. “We need something,” he said. “This is bloody terrifying, Catherine. If Embry is capable of making this protein in such quantities, we could be looking at the biggest terror operations in history. Any real quantity of this stuff could kill hundreds of thousands, possibly more people than Hitler killed.”
“Indeed,” Catherine said. She turned to Noah. “I believe you can see now why I asked for you,” she said. “If we find these people, they must be eliminated.”
“I agree,” Noah said. “We can’t take a chance on anyone getting away alive with the secret of this particular poison. This is beyond anything that should ever be allowed to exist. And on that note…” He turned to Neil. “What can you find on chatter about someone named Tushar?”
“I’m already on it,” Neil said. “I set up a search program as soon as I heard Sam mention the name. It’s been running in the background for about an hour, now, so let’s see what it’s found.”
The program had apparently been busy, because there was a lot of data on the screen. Noah and Sam both leaned forward, trying to get a better look, even though they didn’t understand what they were seeing.
"Well," Neil said, "it looks like it’s found a few things." He clicked one of the first links on the page and a new screen opened. This one was the translated English transcript of a conversation that had been picked up by an American intelligence analyst. It was dated almost a year earlier.
Voice one:(In Arabic) I do not care what obstacles there might be. If we are going to accomplish what we have set out to do, there must be unity.
Voice two: There can be no unity without stable leadership. Until someone is capable of fulfilling that role, we are nothing but packs of dogs, all scavenging for scraps. It is time to let the old regime pass away along with its leadership, and to begin a new jihad. All of our individual operations will fail until we gather together. Only then can Islam rule the world as it is meant to do.
Voice one: We are in agreement with you, but who will stand? Only three men have enough power to take that position, but only one can hold it. We can bring more than ten thousand people into the jihad, but only if there is a leader who can command our respect, as well as our efforts.
Voice two: Indeed, and we have such a man. He has proven himself many times over, and is courageous enough to act when others fear. It is time to bring all of us under his leadership, all of the many different factions that strive for Islam.
Voice one: You speak of Tushar? We know that he is now running all of your operations, but he is young. Our leaders have always been among the elders.
Voice two: And this is why they have failed. Elders are wise, and their counsel should never be ignored, but to truly achieve our goals, we need someone who is young and strong. Tushar Balakrishnan is that man. Even as we speak, he is in Tikrit, solidifying his relationship with Islamic State.
Voice one: Does he truly believe he can bring them under his command? If he does, then perhaps he is the man we need. When he returns, we will speak again.
�
�That’s the first reference I found,” Neil said. “Tushar Balakrishnan. That’s actually a Hindu name, but it seems our boy has more interest in being a Muslim. If he was trying to gather all the different factions under his command, we’re dealing with somebody with some pretty big ambitions.”
“I agree,” Noah said. He turned to Albert. “Your opinion, sir?”
“I’ve never heard that name before,” Albert said. “However, there was a memo some time ago telling us to watch out for people trying to unite the different jihadist factions. I get the feeling our people might have missed a few things.”
Neil turned back to the computer and went on to the next link. This one showed a photograph of three men and was dated two years earlier, but it was grainy and taken from a distance. One of them was identified as Tushar Balakrishnan, while the other two were labeled as al-Baghdadi and al-Jazwari, both of whom were known leaders of ISIS In Afghanistan.
“Is that him?” Noah asked Sam.
Sam leaned close, but shook his head. “I really can’t tell,” he said. “He wasn’t wearing that kind of clothing, and that picture is pretty poor quality, anyway.”
Neil clicked the next link, and an American intelligence memo appeared on the screen. It was dated a week after the previous transcript.
Mohamed al-Baghdadi has announced his support for Balakrishnan. With him in Balakrishnan’s camp, it is highly likely that all other factions, with the possible exception of Al Qaeda, will accept Balakrishnan as their absolute leader. Balakrishnan claims that he can lead all of the jihadists to a position of power over the global community, and his rhetoric makes it clear that terrorism will be a major tool in this effort. Careful attention should be paid to any reference to Balakrishnan or his movements.
Neil clicked another link. "Here's someone who claims to have seen Tushar in Pakistan, right around the time of the previous transcript. One of our agents, apparently.”
“You bloody Yanks,” Albert said. “Be nice if you shared some of this intelligence once in a while.”
"Let's see what else we’ve got," Neil said as he closed that screen and clicked another link. This one opened what looked like a PDF file, apparently some sort of official document that listed various sightings of Tushar. “Check this out, this guy has been all over the world over the past three years or so, talking with Islamic leaders everywhere! And look at the dates, some of these would match up with major terrorist attacks during the same time period. We’ve got him in Paris, Germany, Spain, here in London, and he's been somewhere close to almost every Islamic terrorist attack in the past three years! Look at this list—here's Barcelona, Hamburg, Manchester, London—look, he was in Berlin just last fall when the attack happened there. Guys, somehow, this man has been connected to every major terrorist attack in the last three years, at least!"
Sam whistled and shook his head. “This guy is bad news,” he said. “Doesn’t anybody have a decent photograph of him?”
Neil didn’t get the chance to answer. Sam’s phone rang only a second later and he looked to see that it was Harry calling.
Sam answered the phone by saying, "Harry, if I’d known what you were getting me into, I would’ve hung up on you."
Harry chuckled. "I didn't know what it was either, Sam, boy," Harry said. “Apparently, however, somebody over there is scaring the hell out of people over here. That’s why I’m getting calls from D.C. at 4 o’clock in the morning. Anything you can tell me?”
"Oh, Lord, Harry," Sam said, “This thing is a nightmare. We’ve got a biochemist who is making the most deadly poison ever for a man who is apparently trying to consolidate all of the Islamic jihadists into one functional army. Denny and I came face-to-face with the bastard, but he got the drop on us. It’s a miracle we got out alive.”
“Sam,” Harry said, “I don't know of anyone better suited to this type of job than you, so when my old friends are calling me up this early, all I can do is reassure them that you will be on top of it. You got any kind of prediction on how this is going to end up?”
“Not at the moment,” Sam said. “The computer guy among my new friends over here is going over all the American chatter, but a lot of it is things that should have been ringing alarms years ago. You ever heard of Tushar Balakrishnan?”
“Can’t say that I have. Is he the bad guy?”
“He’s the one I was talking about a moment ago. This guy has apparently been visiting all the different jihad and terrorist group leaders and getting them to work under his direction. The fact that he now has the most deadly weapon of mass destruction I’ve ever heard of is not going to help me sleep well tonight.”
“And E & E specifically asked for your help. Sam, you need to do whatever it takes to find this guy, and then let your new friends do their job. I know that doesn’t thrill your heart…”
Sam was shaking his head emphatically. “Oh, hell, Harry,” he said, “this is one time when I’m one hundred percent in favor of Noah Wolf and his people doing what they do. The trouble is, we don’t have any clue where this guy could be, and he seems to think he’s able to change his appearance enough that just the fact Denny and I saw his face doesn’t worry him at all. I’m not really sure how much help I can be, but I’ll do the best I can.”
“I know you will,” Harry said. “Sam, son, you are literally the best agent I have ever known, and this is another case of your country calling upon you for help. There isn’t anybody else in the world I believe could find this guy better than you.”
Sam looked at Noah, who was watching him intently. “Like I said, Harry,” he said, “I’m going to do the best I can. Other than that, I don’t know what else to say.”
“All right, Sam,” Harry said. “I’ll do my best to keep D.C. off your backs, but do me a favor and let me know how this turns out. There are a lot of feathers ruffled in Washington, and it could blow up in all of our faces if this guy gets past you and manages to bring his brand of terrorism to the United States.”
The phone went dead, and Sam set it down on the table in front of him. He leaned forward and put his head in his hands, but then raised his face again to look at Noah.
“Okay, so we know that this Tushar is out to put his Islamic jihadist buddies in control worldwide. He’s got a poison that can kill thousands at a time, maybe even hundreds of thousands. Where’s he going to go from here?”
Noah’s eyebrows went up in the center, the way they did when he was tackling a problem that didn't make sense logically. "Sam, you’re the investigator. I suggest we simply wait for the intelligence people to get here and try to gain more knowledge before we make any other attempt to locate him.”
Sam stared into his icy blue eyes for a moment, then slowly nodded his head. “I guess that makes as much sense as anything I can think of,” he said. He turned to Catherine. “Any chance you can speed them up any?”
ELEVEN
Three people entered the room a few moments later, and they quickly introduced themselves. Mildred Cottingham was a supervisor from the intelligence analysis office on the top floor, while Philip Attenborough and Randolph Winchester were from satellite analysis. Philip and Randolph were directed to work with Neil and a couple of the other computer geniuses from MI6, while Mildred briefed Catherine, Albert, Noah, Sam and the rest.
“Tushar Balakrishnan first came on our radar just about five years ago,” Mildred said. “As far as we could tell, he was no direct threat to the U.K. at the time, so there was no special effort made to pay a lot of attention to him or any of his activities. He was simply one more in a long list of people who have tried to consolidate the jihadis, and none of them have had any success before now.”
“Well, we got some bad news for you, ma’am,” Sam said. “According to what American intelligence sources are saying, he’s not only having success, he’s probably planning the destruction of the Western world.”
Mildred shot him a look that was filled with acid. “Yes, we know. Unfortunately, your people have been holding b
ack. We have certain agreements in place with the American government that should have resulted in their sharing this information with us, but they chose not to do so. As result, we are scrambling to catch up to where they have already arrived. Now, if I can continue my briefing without interruption?”
Sam scowled at her, but said nothing else.
“Well, then,” she said after a moment. “To continue, we now know that Balakrishnan has almost all of the jihad fanatics under his control. We do not know how he got into the U.K., but there has been some indication over the last few weeks that he might have been planning to come here, so it’s possible he simply arrived sooner than we expected. If the man you saw truly was Tushar Balakrishnan, then your statement that he referred to himself as a chameleon makes some sense. That we know of, there have been a total of five photographs taken of Balakrishnan, but no two of them look at all the same. He seems to be a master of disguise, capable of changing his appearance apparently within a matter of minutes.”
“How can anyone do that?” Albert asked. “Even with the best possible theatrical makeup, it takes time to apply it to the point that you truly look different.”
“Are you at all familiar with the concept of cosmetic prostheses? It appears that Balakrishnan has a number of masks in his possession at almost all times. They are made of a highly specialized type of silicon that perfectly imitates human flesh. Originally developed for people who had suffered disfigurements, they are now turning up in various aspects of espionage work. Balakrishnan seems to have stumbled across one of the specialists who can create them, and we have to assume that he has at least one of these people under his control.”
“All right,” Catherine said, “so that’s how he moves about undetected. What about his motives, his goals? What do we know about them?”
“What we believe so far is that Balakrishnan is working toward a time when Islam will be the ruling religion. In order to accomplish that, he intends to break the West as thoroughly as possible, destroy any possibility that we can maintain our individual cultures. How he intends to accomplish that, we are not sure, but there is no doubt that it will involve casualties on a massive scale. We do know that our own country is not his only target, however. We have detected evidence that he is planning some sort of massive attack that will affect the U.K., Europe, Israel, the United States and Canada, Australia, and almost every other non-Muslim nation. Until now, we couldn’t even speculate as to how he might hope to accomplish such a grand scheme, but with this Touch of Death, the possibility becomes terrifyingly more plausible.”
