Eden's Exodus (Plague Wars Series Book 3)

by David VanDyke

  “You make it sound like neither has a chance at all,” said Cassandra.

  “My dear girl,” said Geoffrey with a sad smile, “they don’t.”

  Cassandra had never really liked this man, and she was beginning to let that distaste make her argumentative. She forced herself to relax, to be objective. “Some might disagree with you. Rebellions have succeeded before in the face of great odds. The original Thirteen Colonies come to mind.”

  Geoffrey laughed. “I hope they win, but they won’t. They don’t have the might or the allies. They are surrounded and cut off. The beginning of hostilities will actually be the endgame. The best they will be able to do is preserve a simmering insurgency, to take the Long War view.”

  “And then what?”

  “Exactly,” said Geoffrey leaning forward intently. “That is the question everyone is wrestling with. If the federal government wins handily, the Unionists will gain even more credibility, as they are the backers of the hardline policies. More Democrats and Republicans will defect. I for one believe that a Unionist-controlled United States will then turn to eliminate any other threat it sees, real or imaginary.”

  “Are you afraid Great Britain might fall into those crosshairs?” asked Cassandra.

  “No,” answered Geoffrey, his face turning deadly serious. “I’m concerned the whole world will fall in their crosshairs. And the United States isn’t the only worry. Both China and Russia are now controlled by new governments that are paranoid, powerful, and suffering from inferiority complexes. Those are not the ingredients for stability.”

  “Is that why the European Union is trying to remain neutral?” Cassandra asked. “So you can pick the winning horse at the finish line?”

  “We’re neutral so we don’t get destroyed,” said Geoffrey. “This is not about winning; it’s about surviving. If we declare openly for anyone, we become the target of their rivals. And then, of course, there are the Free Communities.”

  “What about the Free Communities?” asked Cassandra.

  Geoffrey frowned. “They might be the most dangerous regime of them all.”

  “Oh, come now,” said Cassandra in disgust, mocking the Brit’s highbrow manner. “You’re just trying to bait me.”

  Geoffrey shook his head. “I know you don’t like me and I never really cared, but I don’t have time for games now. Britain has endured for a millennium, but the days ahead are darker than any since the Nazis almost brought us to our knees. Your Eden virus has done wonders for the world and helped millions, but it has also overturned stability and established power structures.”

  “To hell with them,” said Cassandra. “They’re dinosaurs.”

  “Dying dinosaurs can do a lot of damage before they finally fall to the earth. Don’t get me wrong; I feel similarly,” said Geoffrey. “But ‘to hell with them’ won’t stop them from dragging us all down together.”

  “People have been saying things like that for thousands of years,” said Cassandra. “The world will remake itself and go on. Look at the atom bomb, the Cold War, and then the fall of the Iron Curtain. No worldwide disasters, no wars between superpowers, no widespread nuclear strikes. Fears are always overblown.”

  Geoffrey sighed and flopped back in his chair. He sat and smoked for several seconds. “Let’s put the big picture aside for a moment then, since we can’t agree, and talk about some little things. Israel has gone back on its agreement with you regarding your little rescue operation. I’m sure you’ll hear about it soon.”

  “What?” asked Cassandra, sitting forward. “How can you know that?”

  Geoffrey gave her a condescending look. “Please.”

  “But why?” she asked. “We had an agreement that benefitted both sides.”

  “It seems you had an agreement with Mossad,” Geoffrey said. “They conveniently forgot to clear it with their political masters – which usually works out fine. But when they found out about the impending deal with the Caliphate, they concluded the operation was too risky. They’re out. You know how this works. It’s nothing personal. The winds of politics would break a weathervane.”

  “Let’s assume I believe you know what you’re talking about. What about Kenya? Are they still willing to provide asylum if we can get the Edens there?”

  “I’m afraid not,” said Geoffrey. “The Israelis convinced them to pull out also. They’re afraid that if things go badly, Kenya might mention their previous involvement. From Israel’s point of view, it’s safest to simply pull the plug on the whole thing.”

  Cassandra held her hands together tightly on the cognac glass to prevent them from trembling with anger. “You didn’t come here just to tell me that…not with a royal along.”

  “No,” answered Geoffrey. “That was simply a courtesy between old friends who happened to bump into each other. My real reason for being here is much simpler...we want all the data you have on the Eden virus. Everything Elise Markis’ team has found out.”

  It took Cassandra nearly five seconds to start laughing. “And just why would we do that? I know we’re friends and all, but you can appreciate why we’d be concerned with someone using our research for nefarious purposes.”

  “Have you ever heard of Doctor Philip Stanley?” Geoffrey asked.

  Cassandra shook her head.

  “He’s one of the foremost microbiologists in the world,” Geoffrey explained. “He and his family are Edens, and he’s been researching the virus for us from the first. He believes he’s close to engineering a strain that doesn’t require a massive and sudden influx of calories in order to heal the host.”

  “Then why do you need our research?” asked Cassandra.

  “Because he is close,” Geoffrey explained, “but he believes he’s missing something. Helping him complete his research would aid your cause by removing one of the objections to the infection – and easing the Free Communities’ food shortages as well.”

  Cassandra sat thinking for a few minutes. Eliminating the high calorie consumption would have incredible benefits to the Edens. It would also prevent many hardships and suffering. She knew Elise was working on the problem, but had no detailed knowledge of how close she and her team were.

  “I can agree tentatively, subject to Markis’ say-so, of course,” said Cassandra finally, “but under certain conditions.”

  “Which are?” asked Geoffrey.

  “I’ll recommend Doctor Stanley will come to our research facility,” said Cassandra. “He can bring his family if he wants, but the research will be conducted in our laboratories, not in yours.”

  “Working directly with Elise Markis?” Geoffrey asked.

  “Yes,” Cassandra answered. “Is that a problem?”

  “Quite the contrary,” said Geoffrey. “I understand she was one of the scientists that helped develop the virus in the first place, so who better?”

  “She does have a great deal of first-hand experience, and is brilliant in her own right.” She didn’t bother to contradict the man’s impression of how the Eden Plague had been created and Elise’ nonexistent role in its original development.

  Geoffrey smiled. “Okay. Sounds like a deal. We’ll work out the details soon.”

  “I understand how important the research is,” said Cassandra, “but don’t you think this was quite an elaborate entry simply to ask to collaborate?”

  “I’m afraid I must confess, that’s also not my primary purpose for being here.”

  “Well, shit, Geoffrey,” said Cassandra, deliberately exaggerating her Georgia accent. “If those first two were the opening acts, I can’t imagine what the main show will be. And I’m dying to know how Prince Richard fits into all of this.”

  Geoffrey squirmed in his chair. “Prince Richard is not like most men of power.”

  “How so?”

  “Most are willing to let others do much of their work for them,” Geoffrey explained. “They allow advisors to speak on their behalf and broker agreements for them, and then simply ratify them.”


  “But not Richard,” said Cassandra with a grin. “It seems like that makes you a tad bit…uncomfortable.”

  “Prince Richard,” Geoffrey said testily, “always wants to deal personally with people with whom he is reaching an agreement.” Geoffrey tapped at his cigar’s ash. “The Prince wishes to talk to you about reaching a personal arrangement with the Free Communities.

  “What sort of personal arrangement?” asked Cassandra.

  “That,” answered Geoffrey, finishing the rest of his Scotch, “is for His Royal Highness to discuss with you.”

  Chapter 9

  Eye of the Storm was a small fishing trawler crewed by Captain Loniaisa Desta and his two mates. Although Desta was a Falasha like Zinabu and Kollia, he was evidently not much for laughing, joking, or long conversations. The man stayed in the pilothouse with his hand white-knuckled on the wheel while he carefully watched the shimmering sea.

  “Just how much did we have to pay for this ride?” Skull asked Zinabu.

  “No matter. It was worth it,” answered Zinabu. “We needed to get out of Israel.”

  “The fact that you don’t answer tells me it was too much,” said Skull. “He doesn’t seem as jolly as most Falashas I have met.”

  “You have only met Desta, Kollia and me,” Zinabu answered.

  “Yes, and you two acted like you were drunk and on spring break the whole time, whereas this guy looks like he’s expecting to take a bullet at any minute.”

  Zinabu shrugged. “It may have taken a little convincing to get him to take us. I also think my facial scars make him nervous.”

  “Now that you brought it up,” said Skull, “why in the hell do you have them, anyway?”

  “Helps me blend in,” said Zinabu.

  “I hate to break it to you,” said Skull, “but fearsome scars on your cheeks do not make you blend in. They actually draw attention.”

  “Where we are going I will blend in. Besides, few would imagine that non-Edens are going to risk their short, fragile lives to help Edens.”

  “I sometimes can’t believe it myself,” quipped Skull.

  They arrived in Jiddah the next morning. Although the holiday of Eid was still a month away, the closest port to the Islamic holy city of Mecca bustled with activity and it took them some time to find an open place on a pier.

  “Desta thinks we should stay on the boat,” said Zinabu. “He’ll see about getting us passage across the Red Sea.”

  “Again,” Skull said, “are we sure we trust this man? Don’t give me your bullshit about Falashas. Our lives are at stake here, maybe thousands of lives.”

  Zinabu considered the question carefully. “It would not be in his best interests to expose us or put us in danger. I suspect he wants nothing more than to be done with us. The quickest and surest way to do that is to make sure we get on another ship as soon as possible. Besides, I told him that if there’s trouble, the first thing I will do is sink his boat.”

  Skull nodded. “Fair enough. But all the same, maybe you should accompany him. You can understand what he says, and you’ll blend in a lot better than I would in Jiddah.”

  “Desta won’t like it,” said Zinabu.

  “Tell Desta that I insist,” said Skull. “If he won’t budge, bring him to me for some convincing.”

  “I don’t like the sound of that.”

  “Tell him, or I will.”

  “You’re right,” said Zinabu. “I’ll go tell him.”

  Skull watched as Zinabu spoke to Desta. The words became louder, and then Zinabu pointed at Skull.

  Skull stared at the captain as if daring him to push the issue.

  With a loud curse, the captain led Zinabu off the boat and onto the busy pier.

  After making sure that neither of the deckhands was watching, Skull opened his locked case. He pulled out the satellite antenna and unfolded it, pointing it approximately thirty degrees north. Skull next removed the encrypted laptop and hooked it to the antenna. After checking again to make sure no one was around, he logged onto the computer.

  Skull navigated through several anonymous secure servers before logging into the Free Communities site reserved for those of the inner circle. He checked to see if there were any messages for him and saw nothing.

  Either they don’t yet know, thought Skull, or they don’t think it’s worth their time to warn me.

  He started to compose a message to Cassandra before he realized that the driving force behind any rescue mission would be Spooky. After thinking for several seconds he began to type.

  Spooky,

  The mission is FUBAR, but I’m still willing to see it through. The Israelis have pulled out, but we’re still on our way there, minus all the military gear you sent to help train and equip the Edens. They arrested us and tried to put us on planes home, but we gave them the slip.

  I don’t know if Kenya is in or out. Don’t know the situation with the Ethiopians or what your ultimate plan is, but it had better be good.

  We’re in Jiddah booking passage across to Eritrea. Will likely depart today. Know this was the route the Israelis intended so might try to adjust in case they feel sore about how we escaped. Don’t worry, I didn’t kill any of the Mossad guys, even though I easily could have.

  Although I shouldn’t have to say this, it will make me feel better if I do.

  IF YOU LEAVE ME HANGING I WILL FIND YOU AND KILL YOU, YOU LITTLE GOOK SHIT! And you’ll never see it coming, though you do have the comfort of knowing it will be quick and clean.

  Anyway, give everyone my best. Take care, and I’ll write back when I can.

  - Skull

  Skull closed the laptop and disassembled the antenna. He put the equipment away and started to close the case, and then opened it back up again. Pulling out two of his own pistols in their holsters, he strapped them on under his light jacket near the small of his back. He added spare clips in pouches and several knives. He then tossed the two handguns he had taken from the Mossad agents, and the one he’d retrieved from Zinabu, into the case and locked it again.

  Walking up on deck, he saw Zinabu and Desta returning.

  “We’ve got passage,” Zinabu said. “Leaves in about an hour. Are you ready?”

  Skull felt the reassuring pressure of his pistols and knives. “I am now,” he answered.

  Chapter 10

  Cassandra was escorted into the QM2’s Grand Duplex Apartment. Despite the seriousness of her visit, she felt enthralled by the elegance of the surroundings. She had never hoped to see the inside of the most exclusive cabin in the world’s most luxurious ocean liner.

  “Very nice, isn’t it?” said a voice behind Cassandra.

  She turned to find the unmistakable face of Prince Richard. “It is, Your Royal Highness,” answered Cassandra. “But I imagine it doesn’t hold a candle to Buckingham Palace.”

  Richard held a finger out for emphasis. “I would disagree with you on that. BP has mountains of responsibility and distraction and politics coursing through its halls. I personally prefer tranquility to opulence. And I have lived in some fairly austere places. As long as I’m warm, dry, healthy and fed, life is good.”

  “I was sorry to hear about your brother,” Cassandra said softly.

  Richard nodded. “It was inevitable. Leukemia is a bloody tough bastard to beat.”

  “Yes,” said Cassandra not sure what else to say. It was news to no one that the Eden Plague could have cured the blood cancer, but the Royal Family had let Albert die rather than be tainted by the virus.

  Politics.

  She’d also noticed the man’s scarred hands poking out from his cufflinked shirtsleeves and tailored suit. It was rumored that he was sensitive about the burns running up his arms, the price of saving several men from a burning vehicle during his latest tour in the desert.

  “Would you like to sit?” Richard asked, indicating a large open area with antique furniture, which looked out a giant bay window upon the open sea.

  Cassandra nodded and smiled, follow
ing the prince to sit.

  “Geoffrey tells me you prefer cognac,” Richard said. “May I offer you some?”

  She didn’t want anything else to drink, but it seemed impolite to refuse. “Please.”

  “He also tells me you can be trusted,” Richard said, holding out a glass of fine liquor poured with his own hands.

  She turned to look at Geoffrey, who was standing off to one side. “I’m surprised to hear it,” she said.

  “Why is that?” Richard asked. “The fact that someone finds you trustworthy or that Geoffrey thinks so?”

  “The latter,” Cassandra responded. “We haven’t always agreed or gotten along.”

  Richard nodded. “He briefed me on some of that. He also stressed that you’ve always acted honorably and in the interests of your government. That’s something that can be respected even if those interests do not line up with those of Britannia.”

  “My former government now, if you mean the United States. The Free Communities can hardly be called a government. More of a…political movement. An alternative to the United Nations, open to all.”

  “Be that as it may, honor is important to me,” Richard continued. “You know I could have been happy for the rest of my days in the SAS. There, I could be a soldier, judged on my own merits. It didn’t matter one shit about my bloodline, and that was very freeing. Do you know what I mean?”

  “I think so,” Cassandra answered.

  “But duty is something that can never be ignored. The SAS taught me that better than any court official could. Duty and honor are often the foundation of trust. I would like to be able to trust you, Mrs. Johnstone. Can I?”

  “That depends,” said Cassandra, starting to get her footing. “I respect you and admire you, but you are not my prince and you will not be my king. My loyalties lie elsewhere.”

  Richard really smiled for the first time. “An honest woman. How rare. Please tell me a little bit about your leader, Daniel Markis.”