Dan and Sheila left the Jurys Hotel suite at noon but they had lingered over a long lunch downstairs in the hotel restaurant as they continued discussing their plans. Finally Sheila asked, “What do you think we should do next?”
“I think we should go back to my office and get those Omega letters. Maybe then we could take them to the Gardai. Then they’ll have to take us seriously.”
“But we can’t go there. We’ve already been over that. Those men might be there any time!”
“That’s right,” Dan replied. “What about Brendan? He can go see if the men are in my office. I hate to draw him into this, but we have no other choice.”
Sheila nodded but didn’t say anything. She looked out from their table at the flowing waters of the River Lee beside the hotel and watched the dark waves and eddies. A lone magpie alighted briefly on the railing in front of them and then, just as quickly, flew away. She watched the bird as it flew until it became only a black and white speck in the distance. Then she looked at Dan. “We’ll have to be very careful, Dan. Very careful.”
A few minutes later, they left the restaurant and walked towards the University while Dan called Brendan on his mobile phone. Brendan had been working in the lab but he walked down to Dan’s office and then called back and confirmed that there was no one there. Five minutes later Dan and Sheila were in the office. He retrieved his papers while Sheila stood guard at the office door and anxiously looked up and down the length of the hall, but no one came.
“OK, we’re all set,” Dan said, “Now we just need to figure out where to go!”
“What is going on?” Brendan, who had been quiet throughout, said to Dan at last. “Are you guys in trouble?”
“It’s a long story,” Dan said. “We just need to disappear for a few days. That’s all. I can’t tell you everything now, but it’s important. We really need your help. Will you help us?”
Brendan smiled. “Sure! Of course I will. Hey, I know. Why don’t you stay at my place? It’s not a palace but it’s OK for a couple of days and I’m sure no one would ever look for you there. It’s a real student-type of place, if you know what I mean.”
Dan and Sheila looked at each other and laughed, each of them knowing exactly what it must be like. They happily agreed and Brendan walked with them to the student parking lot where he had left his light blue 1993 Renault. Dan and Sheila sat in the back seat while Brendan drove to the student housing area located in a maze of streets on the hill above the university. The student housing was a vast collection of aging houses that had once been houses of the English gentry, but were now the temporary homes to many of the 25,000 students who attended UCC. Dan knew at once that no one would ever find them here. “This is perfect,” he said as they got out of Brendan’s car.
While Dan and Sheila were settling in to their new accommodations, the Omega agents parked their Mercedes outside the lobby entrance of Jurys Hotel. John walked over to the bellman and said, “I’d like to pick up some luggage for a very good friend of mine. His name is Stephen Itagaki. He told me that you have it in storage for him. He has changed his mind and won’t be staying here after all.”
The bellman hesitated briefly but then thought better of it when John offered him a twenty-euro note. “Would you need any help with the bag, sir?” he said. “I’m sorry to hear that Mr. Itagaki isn’t coming after all. Perhaps he’ll come another time.”
“Perhaps. But I’m afraid Mr. Itagaki is not feeling too well just now. Something he ate perhaps. We’ll take good care of him. I really don’t believe he’ll be coming to the hotel any time soon, but who knows, perhaps some day he will drift by,” John said with a smile.
Minutes later, John and Tom walked out the main door of the hotel with Stephen’s luggage. As Tom drove away from the hotel towards Cork airport, John made a call on his mobile phone to an untraceable phone number in Utah.
“This is Special Team One calling.”
“Go ahead.”
“Request permission to return to base.”
“Is your mission complete?”
“Negative. We have overriding information and materials.”
“What is the nature of the information and materials?”
“We have extremely potent and rare biological materials. There are also DNA codes. We have everything needed for the success of Black Wind. Repeat - everything.”
“Standby,” the voice said. A minute passed, then a new voice came on the line. “Understand you have mission critical Black Wind materials.”
“Yes sir.”
“You are very confident?”
“Sir. This is the absolute key to the success of Black Wind.”
“Roger. Understand. Return to Alaska base ASAP. Have you performed your primary mission?”
“Negative. The primary mission was overtaken by events. I made a command decision in the field.” A long pause ensued.
“Roger. You will be replaced by Special Team Two. Be prepared to brief your replacements upon your arrival in Alaska. Out.”
John turned off his phone and turned to Tom. “OK,” he said, “they want us to come back right away. They’ll send another team out to take care of Doctor Quinn.”
“Sounds good to me,” Tom said. “Wait’ll they see this stuff,” he said pointing to the suitcase in the back seat, “You’ll get a promotion for sure!”
John smiled and leaned back in his seat. “Not just me, Tom. They’re good guys up there. Don’t worry, they’ll take care of you too.”
Nineteen
Johnny Chan and his sister Marie had been playing in the woods behind their home in Westford, Massachusetts for hours, but it seemed as if only minutes had gone by. It was a warm and sunny, early autumn day and the leaves on the maples and birches had been turning color for a few weeks now. Some of them had already fallen to the ground and there were gaps overhead where the sunlight filtered through. Johnny looked straight up above him and saw the impossibly clear, blue sky above him and felt the dry, cool breeze on his cheeks that whispered about the coming of winter.
For what must have been the tenth time that afternoon he checked his watch to see what time it was. He loved his new stainless steel, Seiko chronometer. His dad had brought it home with him three days ago when he had returned from a weeklong business trip to Hong Kong. He had missed his father while he was gone on the trip, especially during his eighth birthday party two days ago, but his dad had made sure that he had brought home a “super” present to make up for his absence.
“Hey, Marie,” he called to his sister, “it’s ten past six. We were supposed to be home at six!”
“OK,” Marie called from her perch in the young maple tree above him. “I’ll be down in a minute.” Marie was a year older than Johnny and had yet to outgrow her tomboyish tendencies. One of her favorite things to do on days like this was to climb to a spot near the top of a young maple or birch sapling and then, while holding on tightly to the top of the trunk, leap out into space and ride the bending tree down to a gentle landing on the ground as the tree curved under her weight. As soon as she was a foot or two above the ground she would let go and drop to the earth while the tree sprang back upright.
Marie stood up straight, wiping the dirt from her hands, and looked back up at the tree and laughed in delight. The northwest breeze ruffled the yellow and orange leaves until two or three fell and she watched them flutter and twist their way to her feet. She turned and smiled at Johnny, “This has really, really been fun today,” she said, “want to come back again tomorrow?
“Sure, but we have school tomorrow don’t we? We’ll only be able to play for a couple of hours before it gets dark.”
“Yeh, I know,” she replied, “but it’ll be fun anyway.”
She looked down the tree-covered hillside towards their house but she could not see the house or the garage clearly because of all the trees and also because it was starting to get dark. Even so, there was something that seemed a little odd to her. She peered a little more inte
ntly towards the direction of their large, garrison colonial house and then turned back to Johnny.
“I don’t see any lights, do you?”
“No,” he said, hardly bothering to look, “So what?”
“What time is it now?”
He looked at his watch again. “Six thirteen.”
“I wonder why they haven’t put the lights on yet?”
“I don’t know. Maybe they forgot.”
She looked at him with a trace of impatience on her face. “No, silly, you don’t forget to turn on lights… Maybe they went out to the store.”
“Yeh, I guess so,” Johnny said, “Let’s just go home anyway. I’m getting hungry. We should be eating pretty soon.”
They walked slowly along the zigzag path they had made by their frequent trips to the woods and they stopped twice on the way to turn over a couple of rather large moss-covered rocks. Johnny had wanted to see what was underneath them. Then as they came to the edge of the woods and stepped onto the neatly mown grass of their two-acre yard Johnny took one more look at his watch. He had to press the button that lights up the face of the watch because it had become too dark to read it now.
“Six thirty,” he said looking at Marie and then back at the house. It was still dark.
Marie looked at him and nodded, “Look,” she said pointing towards the house, “the car’s still in the driveway so they must be home! I wonder if the power is out?”
“Wow! That would be neat. We could use candles and even cook outdoors on the grill! It’ll be like camping!”
Marie looked at him with clear disdain. “I don’t think it would be that great. Besides there’s a TV show on now that I want to see. Come on,” she said, “let’s go in and turn on the lights and see what happens.”
She started running towards the house with Johnny two steps behind. By the time they had reached the back door he had passed her by one step and he reached up and grabbed the door handle just before she did. He turned and smiled a victory smile for a second before he turned back, jerked open the door, and ran in.
“Mom!” he called, “we’re home!” Marie flipped up the light switch in the kitchen and the lights came on, then she followed him into the living room and turned on the television.
“Mom! Dad!” Johnny called again as Marie settled onto the sofa. Her show was just beginning.
Johnny walked over to the stairs and called upwards, “Mom, Dad! We’re home!” But there was no answer.
“Mom?…Mom?” he called again.
“Hey, Marie. Where do you think they are?” She turned to him and listened but she only heard the television. She turned it off and listened again. The house was very quiet. Her face became serious.
He’s right, where could they be? she thought, and besides, the car is in the driveway... She swallowed hard and felt her pulse begin to quicken. Her eyes widened as she spoke to Johnny.
“Something’s wrong, Johnny. I’m scared.”
“What do you mean? They’re probably upstairs or in the basement, that’s all.”
Marie said nothing for a few seconds and then said, “Then why don’t they answer?”
Johnny said nothing in reply but he went over and looked up the darkened stairway again. “Mom!…Mom!” he called but again there was only silence. Marie got up from the sofa and walked over to him.
“We’d better go up,” she said. They climbed the steps slowly pausing twice to listen for any sounds from above but they heard nothing. When they reached the top of the stairway Marie went in front of Johnny and walked towards her parent’s bedroom. The door was partially open. She pushed the door all the way open and looked at their bed. Then she screamed.
Within fifteen minutes after the 911 call was received by the Westford Fire Department an ambulance, a police car, and fire truck had arrived at the Chan residence. It was located on the shores of Lake Nabnasset and access was down a half-mile long unpaved road. The remoteness of the home had caused a slight delay in the emergency crew’s response; however, in the end it really had not made much difference. There was nothing that could have been done. The couple had obviously bled to death in their bedroom and, from what the firemen had been able to learn from the near-hysterical children, the cause of death was a complete mystery. It was clear that neither had suffered gunshot or knife wounds. Indeed the bodies were entirely intact. It looked as if almost all of their blood had simply poured out of every one of their body orifices - even from the pores of their skin.
“What the hell do you think this is?” one of the firemen said to the paramedic who had just finished examining the bodies. The fireman, a veteran of many tragic accidents, was clearly shaken. The paramedic stood still for several seconds contemplating what he had just seen. He was shaking his head in wonderment at the scene.
“I’m not sure,” he gasped, “I’ve never seen anything like it…but there is something… we just got a notice from the State Board of Health to immediately report any cases of extraordinary bleeding, particularly if sudden death is involved. The notice said it might be a case of that disease that is killing so many people in Asia now.”
“That hemorrhagic thing? You think this is it?”
“Yeh, yeh, I do,” he replied, “Has to be…that’s it.” He continued to stand there looking at the now bloodless bodies.
The fireman looked back at the bodies of the couple and then made the sign of the cross, “Holy shit,” he said under his breath.
An hour after the paramedic had made his conclusion the director of the Massachusetts Department of Public Health had called the Federal Centers for Disease Control and then he had also called the United Nations Agency for Population Safety. It was Dr. Charles Goodfellow of UNAPS who had first contacted the President Cranston.
“Sir, I’m sorry to be calling you at this time of day but I wanted to make sure you heard the news.”
“What news is that, Charlie?” he replied pleasantly. It had been a good day in Washington D.C. The French ambassador had called and requested a meeting. It seemed that France wanted to purchase twenty U.S. manufactured fighter jets. This could be the first success for the U.S. defense contractors in their campaign to crack the vast European Union market. That could be a great help in next year’s election campaign.
“It looks like there is a confirmed case of Asian Fever in the United States, sir.”
“You mean that hemorrhagic thing?” the President said trying to recall the briefing he had received a week ago.
“Yes, that’s it. There’s a probable case in Massachusetts. It was just called in.”
“Understand,” he replied. “Any information about the victims?”
“I’m not a hundred percent sure, but from the sound of their last name I would guess they are Chinese.”
“Chinese?”
“Probably. The name is Chan, so I guess they are.”
“I agree; does sound Chinese doesn’t it?”
“Yes, sir. Do you want us to take any action? Or what about the CDC? Should we contact them?”
President Cranston didn’t reply immediately.
“Hello?”
“Oh,” yes, Charlie. I’m still here. I’m just thinking. Look, let’s not get too carried away yet and over react. OK? This is really, first of all, the responsibility of the local and state authorities, not the federal government. Let’s let them handle it – at least for now. Besides, based upon the information that you’ve provided to me in the past this is probably not a great risk for most of our population anyway, right?”
“Yes, sir. I think that may be true.”
“Good. Very good. Well, thanks for calling, Charlie. Let me know if anything changes.
“Will do sir. Good night, sir.”
“Good night.”
Twenty
Taken singly and examined with the aid of a suitable microscope, a single snowflake is a crystalline wonder, full of six-sided symmetries and fuzzy, fanciful designs. Each one is almost an entire universe in itself. Yet ta
ken as a group, their individual identities are lost and subsumed in the billows and clouds of snowstorms. When nature conspires to conjure up a brew of howling winds and icy air, and snowflakes are as thick as a swarm of locusts, the beauty of the individual flake is hidden, but the storm takes on a collective and dark beauty of its own.
Such a storm now raged in the Alaskan wilderness, above the deep underground chambers of Omega headquarters, and had anyone been above ground to hear it, the storm winds would have sounded like the wail of a thousand banshees. The falling snow, frozen now into hard crystals in the extraordinary cold of the arctic, flew sideways, skidding across the ground and then lifting back into the air and then skidding along the ground again. The long black nights of ice and snow had come to reclaim their ownership of this desolate landscape and no living thing could stand against their power without the shelter of a hole or nook or cave, out of the way of these horrific frozen blasts and their beautiful crystalline snowflakes.
Deep underground, three levels below the Omega control room, John Church and Tom Blackman were finishing their briefing to General Baker, oblivious of the deadly blizzard far above them.
“So that’s it then?” the general asked pointing to the suitcase with the frozen mammoth tissue.
“Yes, sir,” John said. “We repacked it in dry ice in Ireland just before we left and then we took the quickest flights we could find to get here. It should still be in good shape.”
General Baker nodded his head and thought for a moment. “What about this Itagaki guy you told me about. Was there anything in the newspapers there about his disappearance?”
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