“It’s this or the slow extinction of the human race through war, disease, and famine!” replied Houston, raising his voice. “We have been given a once in a lifetime opportunity to shape the future of this planet, why not seize the chance while we can?”
“At a considerable profit for yourself,” added Mitchell. “After all, you’ve already fleeced the people in this room of half of their companies. What I’d like to know is, how many billions of dollars is enough for you?”
“That doesn’t concern you,” snapped Houston.
Mitchell grinned; he’d hit a sore point with Houston. “Hey, you’re the one who invited me here.”
“And now I’m asking you to leave,” replied Houston bluntly.
Mitchell heard the sound of a weapon being cocked behind him. Slowly, he stood and locked eyes with Houston. “I don’t understand. Why did you bother to tell me any of this?”
“Because, believe it or not, I did not relish giving the order to have you killed. I still believe that the world is going to need people like you when it resets itself in three months’ time,” said Houston. “Think about what you’ve just heard. If you and your associates willingly join me, I’ll let you all live.”
With that, Mitchell felt a hand on his shoulder.
“It’s time to go now. Don’t try anything stupid,” warned the black guard.
Mitchell quickly leaned down towards Owen and whispered, “He’s mad.”
With a sharp tug, the guard pulled Mitchell away and shoved him towards the door. As he stepped out into the hallway, his heart skipped a beat when he saw McMasters standing there with an evil grin on his face.
“Remember me?” said McMasters.
Before Mitchell could move a muscle, the black guard brought his rifle down on the back of Mitchell’s neck, knocking him to the floor, unconscious.
33
Tirana International Airport
Tirana, Albania
With the taste of too many bad coffees in his mouth, Jackson walked through the airport terminal, unsure of his next move. All he knew from his phone call back in Colombia was his destination and nothing more. He had never been to Albania, let alone Tirana. As he stood there looking around, his ears picked up least a half-dozen different languages. Most people around him spoke English, German and a language Jackson took to be Albanian. He was about to make his way outside to get some fresh air to clear his head when a slender Asian woman in blue jeans and undone black leather jacket walked towards him. Jackson smiled. It was Grace’s young accomplice, Midori.
“How was your flight, Mister Jackson?” asked Midori.
“Long, real long,” he replied.
“Please follow me, we have a bit of a drive ahead of us today,” said Midori as she turned around and headed for the nearest exit.
A sleek black BMW X3 pulled up to the curb, and Jackson and Midori got in. The driver, an Albanian employee of Grace’s, introduced herself as Aleksandra. Jackson wasn’t sure if that was her real name; deciding that he wasn’t going to bother asking, he sat back and asked where they were heading.
“North,” replied Aleksandra cryptically, as she pulled away from the curb and sped off. Within minutes, they were on a highway moving away from the capital.
Hours later, Aleksandra turned off the main road and took a winding trail up into the mountains. They slowed down when they came to a picturesque village with streets barely wide enough for their car to navigate. At the other end of the farming community, Jackson was surprised to see, on a small hill overlooking the road, a couple of abandoned concrete pillboxes sitting there like a pair of silent sentries. Albania was littered with pillboxes and other defensive works, built during the Cold War, which now sat quiet, slowly being reclaimed by the countryside.
Finally, after another hour driving along the narrow mountain roads, Aleksandra brought their car to a halt outside of an old house that reminded Jackson of a German Gasthaus. He followed the women inside and saw that it was set up like a Bavarian restaurant, complete with young servers walking about in white shirts and leather lederhosen. They took a table in the back.
Jackson’s stomach rumbled. He picked up a menu to see what there was when Grace Maxwell walked into the restaurant and joined them at their table.
“Good evening, Mister Jackson, I hope that you’re well rested after your flight,” said Grace.
“Yeah, it was long, but I managed to sleep most of it away,” replied Jackson. He glanced down at his watch and saw that he had forgotten to change the time. “What time is it here?”
“Just after seven,” answered Midori.
“I suggest that we have something to eat, as it may be hours before any of us gets a chance again,” said Grace.
“Sounds good to me,” said Jackson, who promptly ordered a meal of Wiener Schnitzel with fries and vegetables.
After all of their meals arrived, Jackson looked over at Grace. “How did you figure out that Ryan is in Albania?”
“It was too easy. I used the plane’s tail numbers to track their movements,” replied Grace. “All planes have to register their flight plans before taking off. Mitchell’s plane was scheduled to fly on to Spain to refuel before heading to Albania.”
“You sure got the information quickly,” observed Jackson.
Grace smiled. “All it took was a small bribe to an airport official, and voilà, I had the plane’s destination. As Midori and I were already in Europe, it didn’t take us long to get here.”
“By the way, where is here?”
“We’re in the Dinaric Alps,” said Grace. “Behind us is a trail that leads up and over a mountain with a beautiful view of a private airstrip belonging to Asclepius Pharmaceuticals. Which just happens to be one of many shadow companies secretly owned and operated by David Houston.”
“Is there anything that son of a bitch doesn’t own? How did you know that Ryan’s plane would land here?”
“This is the only piece of real estate owned by Houston in Albania. Combined with the level of security thrown up around the place, there was no doubt left in my mind where Mitchell’s plane would land.”
“You’re going to have to share some of your sources with us once this is all over,” said Jackson.
“Never,” replied Grace. “They’re mine to keep.”
“Did you see Ryan’s plane on the airstrip?”
Grace grinned. “Yes, his and about a dozen other planes belonging to some of the richest people in the world are parked down there. Whatever Houston is up to, it’s big.”
“You know, Ryan never told me why you contacted him out of the blue.”
“Let’s just say my employer has changed his mind. He doesn’t want whatever came back from the Moon to ever leave Houston’s hideout. At first, I wasn’t sure where to look, but when Ryan suggested that he act as bait, I readily agreed to help him if it led me to the probe.”
“Fair enough.” Jackson could feel the tension building up inside as it always did before a mission. He leaned forward and said, “So what’s your plan?”
“Finish up your meal and then we’ll all take a hike in the mountains to help digestion.”
Taking a forkful of schnitzel in his mouth, Jackson couldn’t wait to get started. His friends were counting on him, and he wasn’t going to let them down. Come hell or high water, he was going to get them out, and if he ran into McMasters, all the better.
34
Jail cell
Underground bunker
Mitchell slowly opened his eyes and looked up. He smiled when he saw Jen’s beautiful face looking down at him.
“Hey there, sleepyhead,” said Jen to Mitchell. “It’s about time you woke up.”
Taking a deep breath to clear the fog in his mind, Mitchell sat up and felt a goose-egg-sized bump on the back of his head.
“You’ve got a nasty bump back there,” said Sam as she moved over to take a look at Mitchell’s wound. “I wouldn’t try to do any gymnastics for the next few hours until it goes down a
bit.”
“Great advice,” replied Mitchell. “I should be okay. I think we’re trapped in here for the foreseeable future.”
Cardinal grabbed a washcloth, wetted it down in the sink, and handed it to Mitchell.
“Thanks,” said Mitchell as he set the damp cloth on the bump. He saw that he and his friends were in a small cell, with two bunk beds, a toilet, sink, and an old wooden table.
Yuri turned in his chair and looked over at Mitchell. “My dear Ryan, I hope that this is all part of some overly elaborate escape plan you have hatched and that Mister Jackson is going to swoop in at any minute and rescue us. If not…why are you here?”
“First off, I have no idea where Nate could be,” replied Mitchell. “Secondly, I was given an offer I couldn’t refuse by a couple of Houston’s goons.”
“That sounds all too familiar,” said Cardinal.
“How long have I been out?” asked Mitchell.
“Just over three hours,” responded Sam.
“Jesus, Ryan, what have we gotten ourselves into?” said Jen as she reached over and took Ryan’s right hand.
For the next half hour, Mitchell told them about what had happened in Venezuela and his recent meeting with Houston. Jen brought a hand to her mouth in horror when Mitchell told them about Houston’s plan to kill two billion people.
“He can’t be serious,” said Jen.
“Oh, he’s serious, all right,” replied Mitchell. “In fact, he’s been planning this for decades. He and his people have improved upon the lethality of the anthrax spores brought back to Earth inside the re-entry vehicle. Within hours, they’ll have enough weaponized anthrax to begin their genocidal plan.”
“Surely he doesn’t think he can kill billions of innocent people and not be held accountable for it,” said Sam.
“There wouldn’t be a place on the planet where he could hide,” added Cardinal. “He’d be the most wanted man in history.”
Mitchell turned his head to look over at his friends. “Folks, I hate to say it but unless someone stops him, he’s going to get away with mass murder.”
“Impossible!” exclaimed Yuri. “Ryan, you must have bumped your head worse than you think.”
“Houston’s no fool, he’s thought this through. He’s not going to take the fall for this. I’ve no doubt that he’s going to lay this all on someone else. I bet right now that Houston is having his corporate records electronically altered to show that Owen was behind all of this. When the dust settles, Houston will be able to claim that he had no idea whatsoever what his nephew was up to. After seeing Owen’s reaction when he learned what his uncle was up to, it’s obvious to me that he’s not part of this. I’m convinced that Houston does not intend for Owen or any other members of his little club to survive the coming genocide.”
“Dead men tell no tales,” proclaimed Yuri.
“Precisely,” said Mitchell.
Jen asked, “What about all of the people working here, surely one of them will spill the beans? You can’t keep a secret like this buried too long these days. Someone will talk.”
Mitchell thought about it for a moment. He snapped his fingers. “The son of a bitch is planning to leave. I saw a convoy of armored vehicles upstairs. He and a small group of hard-core followers won’t be here, when…”
“When what happens?” asked Sam.
“I don’t know. Perhaps an accidental release of anthrax, a nuke going off, an attack by Albanian commandos; whatever it is, Houston has planned for it and won’t be here when it happens.”
“What about us?” asked Jen.
“If we don’t figure a way out, we’ll suffer the same fate as everyone in here,” replied Mitchell.
Sam said, “I’ve tried the lock; it’s tamper-proof.”
“What about the bars?” asked Mitchell.
“They’re new,” replied Cardinal. “They must have been part of the upgrade to this place when they converted it from a fighter base to a pharmaceutical company.”
“Well, everyone needs to put on their thinking caps and come up with something fast, or we’re all dead.”
36
Camp David
Maryland
President Kempt stood with his jaw clenched tight while he watched Dan Leonard on the screen brief him and Vice President Grant about the recent discovery of a secret Cold War airbase in Albania belonging to a company owned by David Houston.
Along with Leonard in the briefing room in the Pentagon was Anne Hook, the Director of the CIA, and General Patterson, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.
“Sir, reliable sources in Albania have been able to confirm that the soil sample brought back to Earth by the Luna 15 return vehicle is now inside the former airbase,” said Hook.
“How reliable is this source?” asked the president.
“Sir, he’s been on the agency’s payroll for close to a decade. According to the Station Chief in Tirana, he is a high-ranking member of the Albanian military and has been providing useful intelligence the whole time he has been working for us.”
“Who exactly owns this company?” asked Vice President Grant.
“On paper it is owned and operated by Asclepius Pharmaceuticals,” explained Hook. “Their head office is in Geneva, Switzerland. Max Cartier is the president of Asclepius Pharmaceuticals; however, the installation in Albania was financed exclusively through one of several shadow corporations owned by David Houston.”
“So you’re telling me that you’re one hundred percent convinced that David Houston is behind this?” said Grant.
“According to a quick financial audit of Houston’s records, it would appear that Houston’s nephew, Owen Houston, has been funneling funds through several secret accounts into Asclepius Pharmaceuticals for a number of years now. David Houston may be unaware of his nephew’s duplicity.”
“Anne, what can you tell me about this base?” asked Kempt.
A picture of the base came up on the screen. “Sir, it is built into the side of a mountain and was designed to be able to withstand bombardment by anything up to a nuclear bomb. It was recently upgraded by a German construction company that has been in the press several times over the years for building bomb-proof bunkers for a couple of unsavory despots around the globe.”
“Get the schematics on this base,” ordered Kempt. “I don’t care how you do it, but make sure that you have them before the next meeting.”
“Yes, sir,” replied Hook, nodding.
President Kempt asked, “General Patterson, what assets do we have in and around Albania that we could call on, if need be?”
“Sir, we have the Thirty-First Fighter Wing in Aviano,” responded Patterson. “However, with Christmas on the horizon, there are a substantial number of base personnel away right now. A Carrier Strike Group led by the U.S.S. Eisenhower is off the coast of Italy on exercise and could easily be pulled away without raising too much suspicion.”
“Do it,” replied the president forcefully.
Turning his gaze on the CIA Director, Kempt said, “Anne, what about your people? What do you have in the region?”
“Sir, the CIA has an Unmanned Aerial Vehicle detachment working from an Albanian base in the east of the country and another in Bulgaria,” replied Hook.
“Are the UAVs armed?” asked Kempt.
“No, sir; however, the UAVs in Bulgaria are Predators and could easily be armed in no time.”
“Okay then, here’s what I want to happen. Anne, I want one of your UAVs in the sky immediately. I want to see what’s going on at this mountain installation. Also, I want you to place your people in Bulgaria on standby, just in case we need them.”
“Mister President, what are you going to tell the President of Albania?” asked Leonard.
“For now, nothing. Until I know precisely what I am going to do, I don’t see the need to cause a panic.”
“Sir, we should fly back to the capital,” said Grant to the president.
Kempt spoke to Leonard. �
�Dan, I want a chopper up here ASAP, and notify all of the available members of the National Security Council to meet me in the Situation Room in precisely two hours’ time. Those who can’t make it in time will attend via secure teleconference.”
“Will do, sir,” replied Leonard.
“Folks, if there is an unknown and deadly pathogen being stored in that base, I cannot allow it to escape. I want options, from a Special Forces raid all the way up to the use of a nuclear device. Nothing is off the table.”
Leonard said, “Sir, I think you should know that Ryan Mitchell has dropped off the radar screen. It would appear that he never boarded his flight from Bogota to the States.”
“What do you think happened to him?”
“Sir, he was killed, kidnapped or has gone underground. Regardless, if he is still alive, I don’t think we’ll see or hear too much from him until this is all over.”
With that, the conversation ended. Kempt and Grant stood in the briefing room, silent, the enormity of what they were facing weighing on both men.
Finally, Kempt broke the silence. “Dave, do you honestly believe that David Houston knows absolutely nothing about what is going on?”
Grant said, “Sir, I’ve known David Houston for close to thirty years. I find it hard to believe that he would be mixed up in something as fantastic as this. You know that without his generous financial support, I’d never be where I am today. However, he’s also one of the most intelligent and cunning men I have ever met. So do I think that he knows what is going on? You bet your ass I do! And if he’s planning on doing anything that would harm this nation, I say we nuke the bastard.”
Kempt smiled. At least the vice president wasn’t in Houston’s pay. However, at the back of his mind, he couldn’t help but wonder who was.
37
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