BioKill
Page 2
“Now, the Concise Oxford English Dictionary, the stalwart bastion of our language, describes bioterrorism as, quote, the use of infectious agents or other harmful biological or biochemical substances as weapons of terrorism, end of quote. Let us be clear — a bioterrorist event is first and foremost a terrorist attack.”
Evangeline paused for effect, and looked around the lecture theatre. A large grandiose room with a high ceiling, rows of maroon cloth-covered seats that folded back when not in use rose incrementally higher the further back they went. A mezzanine floor with further seating was accessed by stairs either side of the room. While the professor had been introducing her, Evangeline gazed up at the Roman column-like structures behind the lectern area, rising majestically to the towering ceiling above; she always admired them. Out of the corner of her eye, as she was about to continue speaking, Evangeline noticed a tall man, obviously not a student, discreetly making his way up the stairs to the mezzanine seating.
Matt Lilburn seated himself down in the center front row. Glancing at his watch, adjusted for daylight-saving time in England, the American leaned forward, resting his elbows on the English beech wooden writing platform, which spanned the length of each row of seats. Unaccustomed to varsity lecture rooms, he felt uneasy. Looking down at the speaker, he realised for the first time how beautiful the subject of his hurried trip was — and allowed himself a small smile. Better than I thought!
“So, now we explore the world of the ‘poor man’s nuke’,” Evangeline continued. “I would like to provide you with some history of bioterrorism and the use of biological weapons. Here is a question for you — just shout out an answer if you know, I won’t put you through the indignity of raising your hand… after all, I might think you wish to use the WC.” An amused mixture of giggles and laughter rose from the students. “Right, who knows when bioterrorism was first deployed? Anyone?”
“In 1995, the sarin nerve gas attack in Tokyo.” A lone voice from the middle seats.
“No. Good try though, much earlier than that. Anyone else?”
“Early nineties — my little brother used to gas me all the time.” The theatre roared with laughter. A student from a row above leaned forward to the young man below who had called out and gave him a friendly cuff about the ears.
Evangeline smiled. “I see nothing has changed. My goodness, I hope there were no long-term effects?” More hearty laughter.
“Any more guesses? No? Right then, let me blow your minds.” Two male students sitting side by side quickly looked at each other and raised their eyebrows; both had exactly the same thought, but it wasn’t their minds she was blowing.
“Biological warfare has been in use for centuries. In the mid-1700s, during the French and Indian war, the English general Sir Jeffrey Amherst gave smallpox-laced blankets and handkerchiefs to Native Americans loyal to the French, which led to a later successful British attack on a French fort. And even before that, in 1710 Russian troops hurled plague-infected corpses over the city walls of Reval during the war with Sweden. But wait, there’s more! In 1347, plague-infected corpses were used in a similar way during the siege of Caffa in Crimea by the Tartars. So bio-warfare and the use of biological weapons certainly aren’t new…”
Evangeline paused for a sip of the bottled water thoughtfully provided.
“So, now we come to the why and when. Why has biological warfare slash terrorism been used in the history of mankind and when will it be used again?” Evangeline paused again, this time for effect. “The short answer is we don’t know. Confucius famously said: ‘Study the past, if you would divine the future.’ In plain English, it will happen again.”
Professor Jennian-Jones boomed from his seat to the left of center stage, “Well said, Dr. Crawston, well said indeed.” Turning to the students he continued, “Precisely why it is critically important that you learn from the past so you may conquer the future.” He turned back to Dr. Crawston and apologized to her in a quieter voice, “Sorry, my dear, please do carry on.”
Evangeline smiled and returned to her lecture. “The why is easy to explain. I gave a hint before. Can anyone recall?” Evangeline cast her eyes over her now attentive audience.
A young lady put up her hand then quickly withdrew it, remembering the earlier admonition about going to the toilet. “Would it be your referring to the poor man’s nuke, Dr. Crawston?”
“Yes, well done. The ‘poor man’s nuke’ was a phrase coined to emphasize how a relatively small amount of a bacterium such as Bacillus anthracis, if released into the right place, can kill as many people as a comparably sized nuclear device, for a fraction of the cost.”
The war studies students of King’s College weren’t the only ones impressed by her arresting rhetoric. As he watched, Matt Lilburn could see why his superiors had requested that he obtain her assistance.
“So who are these countries or individuals with both the knowledge and willingness to carry out biological warfare? We already know Iraq was certainly willing, we also have Iran, Israel, Libya, Syria and let’s not forget China, North Korea and Taiwan.”
“What about the United States and Russia?”
“Ah, good point. We hope not. In 1972 both the Cold War powers signed the Convention on the Prohibition of the Development, Production and Stockpiling of Bacteriological (Biological) and Toxin Weapons and on Their Destruction — or BTWC for those of you taking notes — and declared all their stocks of these weapons had been destroyed. Like you, I can only hope this is the case. But countries aren’t the only threats, individuals can be just as dangerous. However, it’s more likely the threat will be organizations, particularly religious groups.” Evangeline paused. “Are there any Americans here?” No one replied, the room remained silent. Lilburn slowly moved back in his seat, suddenly feeling conspicuous. “If there was someone here from America, what do you think would be the first organization to spring to mind?”
“Al-Qaeda.”
Lilburn shifted uneasily in his seat.
“Now, may I inquire what the time is please?” Evangeline looked to the professor, her cue to bring the lecture to an end.
Jennian-Jones had risen from his chair and was making his way towards Evangeline, smiling broadly. “Bravo, bravo. I must say that was an enlightening and thought-provoking lecture, Dr. Crawston, a real humdinger, if I may borrow that term from our friends across the Atlantic.” The professor shook her hand. “Marvelous, my dear.” His large frame turned to the students. “But not nearly long enough, don’t you agree?” There was unanimous agreement from the students.
“I most wholeheartedly concur. Alas, I’m afraid, time constraints have not allowed us to hear more from the esteemed Dr. Crawston. Now — say thank you nicely, boys and girls!”
Tumultuous applause followed, then the audience gradually broke up, chattering loudly as they gathered their belongings and left the theatre. Lilburn walked swiftly back down the stairs from the mezzanine; he needed to talk to Dr. Crawston.
The professor and the doctor were talking to each other as he approached. Evangeline couldn’t help noticing the tall, handsome stranger she had seen earlier approaching. Casually dressed and wearing a brown leather bomber-style jacket, the man had a look of the military about him.
“Please excuse me for interrupting, Professor, Dr. Crawston.”
“My good man, I didn’t notice you there!” Jennian-Jones was taken by surprise. “May I be of assistance?”
“May I have a word with Dr. Crawston?”
“Certainly, old chap. I must dash anyway — another lecture. My dear Evangeline, it was lovely seeing you again and I will be in touch.” With that the professor hurried away, and Lilburn turned his attention to Dr. Crawston.
Evangeline was curious… and looked coolly at the stranger. Closer up, she could see he was in his early thirties. She raised an eyebrow. “And I thought there weren’t any Americans in the room?”
Caught out. His accent. “Ah, yes… I have to confess I didn’t want to int
rude on your lecture. I’m not a student…”
“Really! I would never have noticed. So why are you here, Mr…”
“Lilburn, Matt Lilburn. Homeland Security, Dr. Crawston. Please call me Matt.”
“Hello, Matt. And you must call me Evangeline.” Homeland Security?
“I need to speak to you urgently… is there somewhere we could talk privately?”
While Evangeline had business to attend, there was nothing urgent. “One would assume an American drinks coffee?”
“I’ve been known to have a coffee or two.”
“Arabica or Robusta?”
The reference to coffee beans was lost on Lilburn. “Instant, nice and fresh, straight from the jar.”
Evangeline giggled. As her face lit up, Lilburn couldn’t help noticing her perfect English complexion. God, she was beautiful.
“I’ll tell you what, Matt. I know this wonderful coffee house not far from here, they make the most delightful coffee, and it would be perfect for a… meeting. Would you care to join me?”
“Lead the way, ma’am.”
Evangeline guided Lilburn through the cobbled streets, a maze of majestic buildings, and a mixture of old and new.
“Are you interested in history?”
Lilburn had no inclination to put himself offside with his assignment. “For sure.”
“I am, I can almost feel the presence of the people who have walked here before me. Did you know this university is the third oldest in England?”
“No.” Lilburn wasn’t great on small talk.
“Yes, King’s College was first established in 1829 on the banks of the River Thames. Many famous people have graduated here… Clarke, Hopkins, Maugham.” Evangeline glanced towards her new acquaintance; famous alumni and grand architecture clearly hadn’t had the same effect on the American by her side — otherwise he would have reacted to her clearly false description. So he had no knowledge of who she had mentioned. Not an academic. Evangeline decided to stroke his pride with a name he must know. “And of course the Archbishop Emeritus of Cape Town, Desmond Tutu, is also a King’s alumnus.”
Evangeline could almost see the relief on his face when he finally recognized a name. “Really? No, I didn’t know that… you don’t say.”
Five minutes later, after walking down the Strand with its tall gray buildings, mostly black London taxis and red double-decker buses, Lilburn longed for a less claustrophobic atmosphere.
“Here we are, my all-time favorite coffee house.” Evangeline entered the doorway leading Lilburn into an older café with a rich aroma of freshly ground coffee. A waiter with a strong Italian accent immediately greeted Evangeline. “Dottoressa Evangelina, magnifico! Whata surprise to see you again! Ah bella, it has been much too long!”
“Alessio,” Evangeline dipped a shoulder and gave a delightful laugh. “How wonderful to see you again. I couldn’t possibly visit King’s without some of your intoxicating coffee.”
“Come, come, I have your table ready.” Alessio yelled out an instruction in Italian to a waiter who quickly cleared a table for two next to a window looking out to the street. “I see you ’ave brought a friend.” Alessio politely nodded to Lilburn. “Have you taken Alessio’s advice and formed a collegamento romantic?”
“Alessio Bavetta! This is a new conoscente professional, I’ll have you know.”
“I canna but try. Welcome, welcome.” Alessio showed his guests to the table, and with gentlemanly aplomb helped Evangeline into her chair. “It is a pleasure to meet one of Dottoressa Evangelina’s professional acquaintances.”
“Matt Lilburn. Thank you.”
“Ah, an Americano. Please, let Alessio offer you a special coffee, roasted this morning.”
Evangeline cocked an ear. “What special delight do you have for us today? I hope you’re not slipping and purchasing Robusta…”
“Evangelina! That word is forbidden here,” he waved a finger in jest to his favorite patron. “I have acquired…” He leaned in to Evangeline and whispered, “I have acquired beans from none other than Napoleon’s own trees, the ones he planted at St Helena, the world’s most isolated island. They are magnifico.”
“You didn’t?”
Alessio looked pleased with himself, “Si, bella — and for you and your friend, I will brew them myself.” Without waiting for a reply, he left them to it, as he hurried away to do what he did best: make the finest coffee from arguably some of the world’s most expensive beans.
“I can’t believe it!” Evangeline was beaming, “Napoleonic coffee! Now you must have heard of him!”
“Like Napoleon as in Bonaparte?”
“The one and only. You are about to taste the ambrosial delight of real coffee.”
Lilburn had been briefed that as well as being one of the leading authorities in her field, her work at Plum Island considered among her peers to be exceptionally well researched and enlightening, Dr. Crawston was also known to be a coffee connoisseur. Not that he was here to smell the coffee. Plum Island, eight hundred and forty acres of near flat land one and a half miles off Long Island was the reason. One hundred miles from New York City. Named after the abundance of Black Plum shrubs that cover it, and home to the Animal Disease Center of New York, run by Homeland Security.
“So, Mr. Lilburn, I am still utterly intrigued as to why you need to talk to me.”
“What I am about to tell you is highly confidential.” Looking around to see no one else was in earshot, he continued. “The United States has a situation… a critical situation and I’ve been instructed to ask for your assistance.”
Evangeline sat back in her chair. The man sitting before her now had her professional attention. “Before we go any further, I must ask to see identification.”
“Of course — I wouldn’t have expected anything else.” Lilburn removed his wallet from his rear pocket. Taking out an identification card, he placed it on the table.
“Thank you.” Evangeline looked at the dark-blue card. Along with a rather unflattering photo of the man before her was the emblem of an American eagle with outstretched wings. The wings were breaking through a red ring into an outer white ring containing the words US Department of Homeland Security. One talon held an olive branch with thirteen leaves and thirteen seeds, the other talon held thirteen arrows.
Laying the card back on the table, Evangeline carefully slid it back to Lilburn. “Thank you. Now, how may I assist?”
“We believe an attack on American soil is about to take place — the intelligence is reliable, and our leaders are concerned, to the highest level. While we’re short on specifics the best we can assume is that the attack will be deployed as a disease, and is imminent.”
Scenarios played out in Evangeline’s mind — none of them good. The use of a disease, a biological attack, it could happen anywhere with devastating consequences. “Do we know what disease will be used?”
“We believe it will be foot-and-mouth.”
Foot-and-mouth disease, a highly infectious and sometimes fatal virus affecting cloven-hoofed animals. She might have known.
Clearly he was reading her face. “You don’t seem surprised.”
“I’m not. You sat in on my lecture — it was only a matter of time. Not if but when — remember? We all have a problem; a serious problem.”
With obvious pride, Alessio Bavetta chose that moment to reverently lay two ornately decorated cups of coffee before his guests. Taking a step back he stood with a broad grin, hands linked together in front of him, silent.
Not wishing to upset the moment for her friend, Evangeline briefly allowed herself to transform back to the English rose he expected. “Alessio, the aromatics are divine.” The aroma wafted up from the porcelain cups and she inhaled with a connoisseur’s nose. “The very elixir of life!” Evangeline savored the hot liquid in her mouth, then swallowed. “Mmm… The flavors are so complex. The body tastes full… the aftertaste lingering. Thank you, Alessio, you have made a simple girl happy.”
Lilburn took a few mouthfuls of his coffee. He nodded in appreciation. “Not bad, for England.”
“Back to business.” Evangeline brought the conversation back to reality. “Are you aware of the implications for your country if foot-and-mouth is discovered in your livestock?”
Placing his cup of coffee down on the table Lilburn grimaced. “Millions of dollars in lost trade, headache for ranchers, a real pain in the butt.”
“Try billions, perhaps somewhere from fifty to sixty billion.”
“Jesus Christ!” The intelligence gathered about the attack was literally only days old, the assignment to collect Evangeline less than that. The full implications of what they were dealing with had yet to filter down to officers in the field. “Are you ready for a little plane trip?”
“When do we leave?”
Glancing at his watch, Lilburn looked back up to Evangeline. “The plane leaves in just over two hours. All you need is your passport. We’ll take care of the rest. Even buy you some new clothes.”