by Dave Edlund
“I’ll remember that. What did he tell you?”
“Nothing, unfortunately. I don’t think he knows where the other machine is. Hell, for all we know, there may not even be another machine.”
“And what if there is? We have to find it!”
“Do you have any idea what you are suggesting? It could take weeks to conduct a thorough search of the city. Right now, we need to evacuate these people, get the aerosol machine into proper hands for analysis, and secure the area.”
Although Peter didn’t like it, he couldn’t argue the point, not without at least a clue as to the whereabouts of the other device, or devices.
Jim placed his hand on Peter’s shoulder. “I understand what you’re feeling. After Major Leonov is properly interrogated, maybe we’ll know more.”
Peter nodded, “Okay.”
Soft rain continued to fall off and on. The gloomy weather perfectly matched Peter’s mood. He looked skyward, feeling the drops splat on his face, wishing the rain would wash away his despondence.
Captain Diaz approached followed by the SGIT soldiers of Alpha Team. “Time to go.” He left four Marines to guard the prisoners.
Flanked by Marines and Jim’s SGIT team, all of the civilians filed into the Osprey and were shuttled to the Renaissance Hotel in a more secure part of Minsk. The flight was very short, the Osprey never getting higher than 500 feet or transitioning fully to horizontal flight. Peter remained silent and brooding during the short hop.
The aircraft landed on the expansive front lawn of the hotel and lowered the rear ramp. Peter and Jim exited first, followed by the rest of the civilians, and finally by their Marine escorts and Alpha Team. Once clear of the downwash, they were met by a Marine Colonel.
The Colonel saluted Jim and then extended his hand to Peter. “I’m Colonel Garret. Follow me.”
The lobby was surreal, devoid of patrons. The only people were hotel employees and staffers in Air Force and Marine uniforms.
“This way,” Garret urged them on.
They passed through the lobby and entered a broad corridor with doors on both sides. Peter recognized these as conference rooms the hotel would book for conventions.
All of the doors were closed, and Garret led them to the last door on the right. It was at the end of the hallway. Marine guards dressed for combat were standing aside the double doors. Other guards were moving randomly through the hallway.
Inside the conference room were more armed soldiers. Peter looked to the front of the room and saw a stage with tiered seating.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Garrett addressed the group, pausing for his aide to translate into Russian, “please take a seat; this won’t be long.” Garrett indicated the tier of chairs and people moved along the rows until the seats were mostly filled. Peter, Gary, Ian, and Jim were the last to be seated in the front row. Bright lights illuminated the many curious and confused faces.
“What’s going on Gary?” Peter asked.
“You got me. Looks like they’re setting up video cameras and other communication equipment.”
Colonel Garret, who had removed himself to the side while everyone became seated, stepped up to Jim and Peter. “Please bear with us for a moment and we’ll get on with this.”
Peter tired, and lacking patience for mysteries asked “What, exactly, is going on here?”
“Some important people want to talk to you.”
“How about later?” Peter said. “I’m exhausted and I hurt. Speaking for myself, I’d be quite happy just to have a good meal, hot shower, and some sleep in a real bed. I suspect my father and friend would agree. Then we can talk all you want.”
“Ordinarily, I’d be inclined to agree with you. But circumstances are anything but ordinary.”
Peter started to object, but was pre-empted by one of the communications technicians. “Colonel, I have POTUS on the line.”
Chapter 38
Minsk
“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,” President Taylor’s image appeared on the monitor. Dressed in a dark suit and wearing a white shirt and royal blue tie, he was relaxed, sitting behind his desk in the Oval Office. It was an image cultivated and refined by the many other leaders who had gone before him. An image intended to convey confidence, security, and knowledge.
“I want to welcome you to freedom. I know you have all suffered a harrowing ordeal.” He paused to allow translation to Russian.
“Arrangements have been made for you to stay at the hotel, as guests of the U.S. Government, of course. Marine corpsmen will perform a short examination of each of you to make certain there are no physical injuries. We also have some questions we’d like to ask of each of you; call it a debriefing, if you will.”
Although it looked like the President was looking directly at the gathered audience, in fact he was gazing at a video monitor. Off camera, and unknown to the gathered audience in Minsk, President Taylor was joined by the Joint Chiefs, his top intelligence advisors, and Secretaries Hale and Bryan. Taylor wanted the contents of the conversation to be heard directly by his trusted inner circle.
“I have requested your audience for two important reasons. First, I want to tell you about recent events that you have been, at least in part, witness to. A pro-Russian militia—the Nationalist Proletarian Army, or NPA—seized control of the BSU campus, the KGB Headquarters building, and the Government House. They also took control of the international airport.” The President took his time reviewing the events so that the Belarusian citizens would understand what had happened, although he stopped short of mentioning the smallpox virus and the aerosol machine.
“Second, I want to ask for your help. Anything that you heard or saw may be of value. One of your colleagues, Professor Dmitri Kaspar, has already provided invaluable assistance.”
President Taylor moved his head as if he could see through the camera, trying to spot Dmitri in the audience. “Is Professor Kaspar there?”
The faculty and staff of BSU stared back blankly. They did not know what happened to their friend and coworker, only that he was missing.
Peter answered, breaking an uncomfortable silence. “I’m sorry Mr. President. Dmitri Kaspar was murdered by General Gorev.”
President Taylor frowned, and took a deep breath before going on. “I’m very sorry. I gather he was a brave man.”
“He was,” answered Ian Savage, unable to hold back his emotions. A tear rolled down first one cheek and then the other. “And he was my friend.”
“You are Professor Ian Savage, and I believe I was just speaking with your son, Peter?”
“Yes, Mr. President,” Peter answered.
Gary nudged Peter, and he took the hint.
“This is Gary Porter, my best friend, and a brave man,” Peter said.
“Mr. Porter, it’s a pleasure.”
The video feed showed an aide approach the President and whisper in his ear. Then Taylor cleared his throat and resumed.
“During the time that you were held captive, did you see or hear anything to suggest Russian soldiers were present at the university alongside the rebels?”
“We heard them talking,” a woman spoke up. “They spoke in Russian, but the accent was not of Minsk. More like Moscow.”
President Taylor pinched his eyebrows and thought for a moment before continuing, “Commander, do you know if you encountered militia or Russian regulars?”
Jim answered without hesitating, “Both. We have documents of orders to Russian Spetsnaz and other physical evidence linking soldiers to Moscow. Some of the soldiers we fought were very well trained and equipped, more likely Spetsnaz than militia. Also, we have Major Leonov in custody. He is purportedly a member of Spetsnaz.”
“I see. Well, I want to thank you all very much. I’m sure Colonel Garrett’s men will have many more questions. You must all be exhausted. I will let you get some well-deserved rest.”
There was a shuffle and people rose and began to move to the door, ushered quietly and respectfully by several Mar
ines. “Uh, just a few more minutes, gentlemen,” President Taylor said.
Peter noticed the monitor was still on. “Do you mean us?” he asked.
“Yes,” the President replied and then he waited until the last of the university staff had left. Colonel Garrett gave a silent nod, indicating the room was clear.
“There is an additional matter that I wish to discuss with you. However, it is of the highest level of secrecy. Colonel Garrett, have you dismissed the technicians?”
“Yes, sir. The communications team has left the room along with all other civilians and military personnel. Only myself, Commander Nicolaou, Peter Savage, Gary Porter, and Professor Savage are present.”
“Very well. Colonel Garrett, I must ask you to leave the room now.”
Colonel Garrett turned and strode out. If he had any curiosity about the imminent conversation, he knew better than to ask.
As soon as the door shut, the President continued, “Will each of you please confirm that there are no other persons in the room other than yourselves?”
A chorus of “yes” was heard in reply to the President’s question.
“I understand that the four of you were intimately involved in deactivating the virus aerosol machine. Did you see any identifying markings on the machine?”
“Yes, and we’ve shared all this with Commander Nicolaou,” Peter said. “The machine is in his custody.”
“Please, tell me what you found inside the device.”
“Well, circuit boards that looked to be made in Russia based on the Cyrillic markings. The same for the air blower and the plastic case itself. I can’t say anything about the origin of the explosive—the military can make that call after a lab analysis is completed. Plus, Leonov had his men guarding the aerosol machine on the roof of the chemistry building on the BSU campus.”
“Hold on just a minute. I have General Hendrickson here, also Secretary Hale.” President Taylor motioned with his hand and his two advisors stepped into the image, standing slightly behind the President, who remained seated at his desk.
“It’s very important,” said Howard Hale, “that we know the origin of the machine. Based on what you have shared, it is likely it was manufactured in Russia. But we have to be certain.”
“We can transport it directly to Ramstein Air Base in Germany,” Jim suggested. “They should be able to complete a highly detailed analysis.”
President Taylor waved his hand, dismissing the suggestion. “This is too sensitive. You four are part of the inner circle; we have to keep a lid on this. Everything related to smallpox or bioweapons or an aerosol dispersion device, everything, is on a need-to-know basis and carries the highest level of secrecy.”
General Hendrickson chimed in. “Sending the case to Ramstein or any other air base is too risky; we simply cannot guarantee the information will not be leaked out. Commander Nicolaou, you have to conduct a thorough examination there, immediately.”
“Yes, sir.” Jim was already trying to figure out how he could carry out the General’s order.
President Taylor seemed to read the concern on Jim’s face. “I have confidence in you, Commander. You have two scientists on your team—”
Gary interrupted, raising his hand like a student trying to get the attention of his teacher. “Uh, three. Three scientists. I’m a software engineer.” Gary turned to Peter and said, “That counts, doesn’t it?”
General Hendrickson frowned. “Commander, you have operational control of this mission for as long as the case is in Minsk. Colonel Garrett has been advised, and he will support you fully. You will communicate sensitive information directly to Colonel Pierson. He’s been fully briefed and is in frequent communication with the Pentagon as well as the White House. Any questions?”
“Sir, I will need to bring some of my SGIT analysts in on this. Colonel Pierson will vouch for them.”
The General nodded. “Anything else?”
Jim looked to Peter. “Yes,” Peter replied. “We can remove the explosive charge—we’ve already removed the detonator. I’m recommending that we ship them immediately to a lab for analysis. Same for the virus. I presume it’s in a powdered form enclosed within a metal box. The rest of the dispersion device can stay here.”
President Taylor pressed a button to mute the speaker, and then he conferred with his two advisors. After two minutes, the speaker was activated again.
“Very well,” said Hendrickson. “Have the explosive and detonator ferried immediately to Ramstein. We’ll come up with a cover story before the samples arrive. The virus is more challenging. But the European Molecular Biology Laboratory in Heidelberg has been participating in genetic sequencing of samples from Tbilisi, Georgia.”
Hendrickson paused for a moment, allowing Hale to break in. “We’ll get it cleared, but they are the best resource at the moment. Later, we’ll have the CDC check their results.”
“One more thing,” Peter said. “It’s possible we have all been exposed to the virus simply by opening the case. You should think about getting a vaccination program started here right away.”
President Taylor looked at Secretary Hale. “See to it Howard. Get 100,000 doses of vaccine on a flight ASAP; within the hour if possible. Draw whatever medical personnel you need from the Army and Air Force. Also coordinate with the CDC on a quarantine and vaccination plan. Move on this; I don’t want any delays.”
“I’m on it, sir.” He stepped to the side to conduct a brief conversation with an aide.
There were no further requests from either Jim or Peter.
“Gentlemen,” President Taylor said. “I need answers. The Russian Foreign Minister is scheduled to speak to the General Assembly at the United Nations in about twelve hours. He is expected to accuse the United States of using biological agents as weapons of terror against civilian populations. Right now, the evidence is in their favor, even though we know the accusation to be completely false. We must have this evidence—irrefutable proof that Russia manufactured this aerosol machine to spread smallpox in Minsk.”
President Taylor shifted in his chair and his eyes narrowed. “If we fail, the court of world opinion will turn against the U.S. President Pushkin will be emboldened to use his proxy military to continue attacks on Eastern European nations, and NATO will have no choice but to go to war to prevent the map of Europe from being redrawn.”
“I understand, sir,” Peter said. “We’ll wring as much information as we can from this machine, but it won’t be easy.”
“I need your results as soon as possible, hopefully not more than an hour, two at most.”
Peter shared an uncomfortable look with Jim. He knew better than anyone that you don’t promise research results on a schedule; often the science just doesn’t cooperate. You learn what you can, as fast as you can, and whether it would take one hour or ten hours was anyone’s guess. Fortunately, they would have assistance from the SGIT team of intelligence analysts, a group Peter had brief interactions with in the past and held in high regard.
President Taylor seemed to read his mind. “Do the best you can—that’s all I ask.”
“Mr. President?” Peter said before he signed off. “What do you plan to do with this information? I mean, assuming we find confirming information that the device was assembled in Russia, then what?”
President Taylor stared into the camera, his eyes hard, uncompromising, “Leave that to me.”
s
“Well, you heard it,” President Taylor said. “Recommendations?”
Colleen Walker, Director of the NSA, answered. She had thought long about the options should proof that Russia was trying to frame the U.S. come into their hands. “We have to send a strong message. We should destroy whatever facility made that machine.”
“And risk starting a war with Russia?” Paul Bryan retorted. “President Pushkin won’t just sit on his hands if we bomb one of his nation’s military labs.”
“But you agree the machine was likely assembled at a military facili
ty; you just said as much,” Colleen answered.
Bryan rolled his eyes. “You’re distorting what I said. Until we have proof, we really don’t know who fabricated that device, or where.”
President Taylor raised his hands, signaling an end to the verbal jousting.
Secretary Hale broke the tense silence that had settled across the Oval Office. “I agree with Colleen. Once we determine where the smallpox virus was made and the aerosol machine was assembled, we take it out.”
Paul Bryan objected. “Are you assuming both were made at the same site, or are you recommending we attack and destroy two facilities, both possibly Russian?”
Hale wouldn’t let himself be baited. “If we’re lucky, we can use cruise missiles, launched from a safe distance.”
“If we’re lucky? Did I hear you right?” Bryan glared at his counterpart in Defense.
Taylor raised his voice. “Gentlemen. This is not the time.”
Bryan and Hale both redirected to their boss.
“Paul, I want to speak with President Pushkin immediately. Please see to it.”
“Yes, Mr. President.” As he left the Oval Office, he hoped he would be more successful connecting the call this time.
“Cruise missiles… I don’t know,” Taylor muttered.
“They’ll fly under their air defenses, no personnel at risk.”
The President had taken up pacing behind his desk. “Won’t we run the risk of spreading more smallpox if they have inventory on hand?”
General Hendrickson replied, “That would be true if we used conventional munitions.” He paused, until he was confident he had everyone’s attention. “There is another option.”
“And that would be?” prompted the President.
All eyes now were on General Hendrickson.
“A tactical nuclear warhead.”
Chapter 39
Washington, DC
PAUL BRYAN FOLLOWED THE CHIEF of Staff into the Oval Office. It had taken the Secretary of State less than ten minutes to complete a terse conversation with Foreign Minister Denisov who agreed that President Pushkin would receive a call from President Taylor within 30 minutes.
