‘I hope you’re wrong but we’ll need to follow this up. The consequences of a radioactive dirty bomb in a crowded city would be horrific,’ Curtis said thoughtfully.
‘Now that you and I are flying back to the States out of Melbourne, I’d better see if I can organise something to get us down there,’ said Kate.
Nearly an hour later, Kate leaned back from one of the computer screens and stretched her neck wearily as she received confirmation of the online booking. ‘We’re on the XPT to Melbourne,’ she said to Curtis, ‘but I feel really bad about leaving these guys.’
‘We’d only be in the way,’ Curtis assured her. ‘You’re far more valuable back at Halliwell. What time does the train leave?’
‘8.40 p.m.’
‘Single or double beds?’ Curtis asked, eyes dancing. Even in the middle of a crisis he hadn’t lost his sense of humour.
‘First Class, but they’re seats. We don’t run to an Orient Express here,’ Kate said with a smile.
‘Pity, I was looking forward to a nightcap,’ Curtis replied, winking at her.
The Vice President, Secretary of Defense and Dan Esposito accompanied the President up to the Oval Office. The Secretary of State had not been invited.
‘It might be a good idea if you were to pay a flying visit to Australia, Mr President, to show the Australian people that we’re grateful for their support,’ Dan Esposito offered, moving the focus away from Kadeer’s video threats.
‘For fuck’s sake, Dan, the Australians have only got three men and a dog in Iraq and Australia’s at the bottom of the bloody world. Even if the President only stays there for 24 hours, it’s a three day round trip at least,’ the Defense Secretary added pointedly.
‘It’s not how many they’ve got there, Mr President,’ Esposito responded, giving the Defense Secretary a steely glare, ‘it’s the fact that there’s another flag on the coalition flagpole. Right now this coalition of ours is shaky and the Australian Prime Minister is looking pretty rattled. He’s stubborn and he’ll ignore any protests but on his past form, if he thinks something’s going to cost him an election, he’ll do a U-turn. We can’t afford for the Australians to cut and run like the bloody Spanish or Italians. That would look pretty bad in the run up to the next election,’ Dan Esposito concluded, pushing the meaning of ‘hypocrisy’ to new heights.
‘I think Dan’s right, Mr President,’ Vice President Bolton said in a rare display of support for the President’s advisor. ‘They need to stay with us and if that means a little arm-twisting, now’s the time.’
CHAPTER 73
BEIJING
B eijing might have been designed in accordance with an ancient feng shui grid, but to al-Falid’s disgust the city pulsed like any other decadent city in the West. Twenty floors below his room in the five-star hotel on Wangfujing Avenue, not far from QianHai Lake, Tiananmen Square and the Forbidden City, Beijing’s equivalent of Fifth Avenue and the Champs Elysees throbbed with the heartbeat of a capital that was keen to match the avarice of the West. As the city’s nightlife gathered pace, the bars and restaurants with their or sanpei xiaojie, the ‘ladies of the three accompaniments’ began to fill up.
Tomorrow al-Falid would travel east to Shandong Province and the Qingdao bear farm where he would brief his team leaders on what was required for the final solution, but later tonight he would go online to receive reports on the arrangements that were in hand for the second and third warnings. al-Falid couldn’t understand why Kadeer didn’t move straight to the final solution, release the deadly virus and eliminate the Chinese and Western infidels, but he went along with Kadeer’s warning approach out of a grudging respect for the Islamic philosopher. Kadeer might be going soft, he thought as he went over the arrangements he’d put in place. The success of the second warning attack would depend on al-Falid having cells in sites close to where the alpha rotated if the opportunity arose. It was an opportunity that didn’t arise very often. al-Falid had chosen locations in five countries to maximise the chances of being able to take advantage of it if it did.
The British al-Qaeda cell had rented an apartment close to where the infidel had been on 18 November 2003, but that had been the first time the infidel had been there since 1982, so the chances of it happening again any time soon were probably remote.
The Frankfurt am Main cell, al-Falid knew, had overcome their earlier problems with the Rhein-Main military base. That was now closed, which left Schonefeld as a possibility and the cell members had rented an apartment with good coverage of the area.
For the Moscow cell Sheremetyevo was unlikely; when they were there in November 2006 both infidels had preferred Vnukovo.
The Chaoyang District cell was also ready, but again the sightings had been a long way apart. The first had been on 21 February 1972, and at the time it had caused headlines around the world. The last one had occurred exactly thirty years later on 21 February 2002, which left the fifth cell.
The small cell in Australia, al-Falid knew, was reconnoitering the final attack locations but again, the chances of a successful attack there were slim. The infidel had visited just three times in the country’s entire history: on 23 October 1966, on 19 November 1996, and again very briefly on 23 October 2003, exactly thirty-seven years after the first visit. On the last occasion the local residents had been left holding a $30 million bill for damages. al-Falid and the leader of the Australian cell, Ahmad Rahman, a solidly built young man with a neatly trimmed beard, were of like mind. The chances might be slim but if Allah wished it, they would surely get another opportunity. Al-Falid smiled. ‘When the alpha rotates for the first time.’ Kadeer’s coding had been exquisite.
Ahmad Rahman stood at the lookout and immediately ruled it out. Although this spot commanded sweeping views of the target, if the chance to strike arose, the infidel’s puppets would almost certainly put patrols in this area. Ahmad scanned the target area and then swung his binoculars towards another smaller hill further to the south. It offered even less opportunity as it was located just above a military barracks.
Ahmad drove back down the narrow winding road that provided access to the mountain and turned left onto a highway that connected the main city with a satellite city to the east. He followed the road until he came to the sign he’d been looking for. The Air Disaster Memorial was near the top of a hill in the middle of a pine forest, but when Ahmad tried to drive up the dirt track he found the way blocked. A sign reading ‘Wilson Security’ and a telephone number had been erected beside the heavily padlocked barrier that was blocking the way. Ahmad parked his older model black Jeep Cherokee and set out on foot, taking his map and binoculars. If anyone challenged him he would claim he was bushwalking.
Forty minutes later, he reached a site among the pine trees that was also less than perfect. The range was fine but the visibility wasn’t good and, worse still, the pine forest was a little more open than he’d expected. If the infidel were patrolling this area, he might be discovered. Ahmad scanned the mountain range on the far side of the target area and then stopped and focused his binoculars on a vineyard on the side of hill about 5 kilometres away.
As he walked back to the jeep, Ahmad reflected that of all the targets around the world, this one was surely the most open and the hardest for the infidel to defend. To the south, the foothills of another mountain range came into view where he’d already selected a position if the weather necessitated an attack being made from there. He was in good spirits as he headed back to the highway. If the weather dictated a strike from the north, the hills above the vineyard looked promising. al-Falid poured himself a mineral water and turned his attention to the third warning, for which caesium chloride would be critical. It was not easy to obtain in its highly radioactive form, but Khalid Kadeer had overcome that problem.
Teletherapy used radioactive sources to irradiate and treat tumours and it was very common in developed countries, with over 10,000 machines worldwide. The later machines used cobalt 60 as the radioactive source. Cob
alt 60, being a metal, could not be used in an aerosol attack but Kadeer had pointed out to al-Falid that the early machines had been manufactured using caesium chloride and it was these discarded machines he had ordered al-Falid to get hold of. Many of the early machines had been donated as part of well-meaning aid programs for third world countries with ineffective record systems, and even less effective records of disposals. In the late 1990s in Goiania in Brazil, over a hundred thousand people had been tested for radiation exposure after scavengers had broken into an abandoned building that housed an old teletherapy machine. After smashing it apart they distributed a powder that was glowing a deadly blue. The powder was caesium 137.
The Churchill had been successful in picking up a consignment of eight teletherapy heads from the port of Arica in Chile and another six teletherapy heads from Wewak in Papua New Guinea, as well as a much larger load from al-Falid’s contacts in Georgia. There was enough for six large backpack bombs – two for each of the three cities Kadeer had ordered to be attacked if the West ignored the second warning.
As he closed the curtains to shut out the bright lights and the noise on the streets below, al-Falid fervently hoped the West would ignore the next two warnings. Beijing would not have been his choice for the final attack, but the Olympic Games was a huge drawcard and al-Falid was confident that the Beijing authorities’ predictions would be close to the mark. For a critical two weeks, more than 3 million spectators, athletes and team officials would be concentrated in the city. With the exception of the devoted warriors of Allah, the Most Kind, the Most Merciful, who would be vaccinated, the western world and other unbelievers would be wiped off the face of the Earth.
CHAPTER 74
PARLIAMENT HOUSE, CANBERRA
F orty-eight hours after the attack on Sydney, the news of the US President’s flying visit to Canberra was being greeted with mixed views.
‘For security reasons, the Americans don’t want the visit announced until the last minute,’ the Prime Minister said, looking around the cabinet table, ‘so for now it doesn’t go outside this room.’
‘Bugger me,’ the Liberal Party’s campaign director muttered from his seat against the cabinet room wall. He had an election to worry about and with Sydney in ruins, a visit by the American President was the last thing he needed. ‘A couple of things, Prime Minister,’ he said, resolving to do what he could to put the visit on hold, but wary of his boss’s stubborn allegiance to Australia’s great and powerful ally. ‘My research is showing that President Harrison is not going down too well in the electorate, which will play right into the hands of the Opposition. Given the preparation for one of these visits we’re not going to be able to keep it a secret for long.’
‘The White House wants the President’s visit kept quiet, and that’s what I’ve agreed to,’ the Prime Minister replied angrily. The strain of the past two days was clearly evident.
Sydney had been brought to a standstill. With the CBD effectively isolated from the north shore, the transport system was in chaos and traffic was in gridlock. The huge Royal North Shore hospital was isolated, as was the North Sydney business district. Thousands of people had been laid off work and divers were still recovering bodies from the flooded tunnels. The Australian stockmarket had plunged based on fears of further attacks and Wall Street and London had also fallen sharply. The State’s economy was in tatters, threatening to have an impact on the national economy. Anger over Australia’s close ties to the United States was growing, but the Prime Minister stubbornly refused to distance the country from President Harrison’s policies.
‘There’s to be no announcement on President Harrison’s visit until I say so,’ the Prime Minister added, closing the meeting.
The next day, alongside the pictures of the fallout from the carnage in Sydney, The Sydney Morning Herald carried a companion story on the front page: PRESIDENT HARRISON TO VISIT CANBERRA
Michelle Gillard was one of the best-connected journalists in the country. She had had an exclusive scoop, much to the annoyance of the rest of her colleagues in the Parliamentary press gallery. News of the impending visit only served to further alienate Australians, already in a state of shock over an attack launched against them because of Australia’s unswerving support for an American Administration that was increasingly despised in many parts of the world.
Ahmad Rahman picked up the papers from his local newsagent at the Ainslie shops. For the past eighteen months, al-Falid’s young recruit and the other two members of his cell had been renting a house in the quiet leafy suburb near the Australian War Memorial. They had kept to themselves, working shift work at a call centre, never missing a rent payment and making sure that their lives appeared perfectly normal. To the neighbours they were just ordinary, fit young men with an interest in bushwalking.
As Ahmad read Michelle Gillard’s report on President Harrison’s impending visit, he sent a silent prayer of thanks to Allah. The chance that the five cells around the world had all been preparing and praying for had come to him. Ten days from now the President of the United States would be in Canberra for just 24 hours, but Ahmad was sure it would be long enough. The President will be accompanied by a 650-strong entourage and is expected to attend an official dinner hosted by the Prime Minister at The Lodge, a short distance from the American Embassy where he will be staying. The following day, before flying out from Canberra in the afternoon, the President will address a joint sitting of Parliament. The Australian Federal Police are refusing to comment and Defence didn’t return The Herald’s calls but sources close to those involved in the planning have indicated there will be more than 500 police officers on duty, supported by members of the military’s Special Forces Tactical Assault Group, as well as other military and police personnel trained to deal with any chemical and biological threats. Protesters are expected to number in the thousands but they will be kept well away from the official residences and from the Parliament which will be closed to the public for the duration of the President’s stay. The Prime Minister’s office is refusing to confirm or deny the visit.
Ahmad smiled. Whenever a government refused to confirm or deny it was a sure sign that a story had credibility.
CHAPTER 75
QUINGDAO
T he drive to Qingdao in the Province of Shandong, nearly 800 kilometres to the south-east of Beijing took a full day, but al-Falid wasn’t concerned. He’d insisted on a very early start and his driver handled the chaotic traffic around Beijing with ease. Clearing the thick smog of the capital they travelled south-east across the vast flat areas of the North China plain where for centuries the peasants had grown wheat, cotton and maize. They reached Huang He, the great Yellow River, at midday and shortly afterwards, the city of Ji’nan, the province capital. To the south-east, the sacred Taishan Mountain rose majestically, and further south lay Qufu, the birthplace of Confucius. After a short break and fried dumplings at a roadside stall near the main railway station, they turned due east towards the bustling port of Qingdao.
It was after dark by the time they wound their way down into the foothills of Lao Shan, an ancient Taoist mountain 40 kilometres to the east of the port. Kadeer had been right, al-Falid mused, as the driver veered off onto a track that eventually led through a thick pine forest. A bear farm would be the last place authorities would be checking for terrorist activity.
The next morning, al-Falid rose early and went for a walk to explore his surroundings. The 2-hectare compound was situated on the side of Lao Shan and hidden from view. The sleeping quarters were in a low, dirty building at the top of the slope. Pines ran all the way to the bottom far corner of the property where the bear compound was surrounded by an earthen wall. The site had once been an ammunition bunker when the Germans had occupied Qingdao at the time of the Boxer Rebellion. Now it was the site of even more unimaginable suffering for the gentle moon bears, imprisoned in cages in which they could neither stand nor sit, their bile ducts kept permanently and painfully open.
In the fa
r left-hand corner of the compound another dirty building housed the administration block. Most of the staff were Han Chinese workers, including the farm manager, Peng Yu, a short, cruel and thoroughly corrupt Han peasant who’d been around bear farms since he’d left school at the age of ten. Today the staff had been given the day off and the accommodation had been taken over by ten of Kadeer’s best men who had been entrusted with organising the teams that would be trained to distribute the lethal Ebolapox into airconditioning systems in dozens of key buildings in Beijing. They were yet to be vaccinated. This would be done as soon as the vaccines arrived along with the deadly vials of Ebolapox.
‘I trust you sleep well, Mr ’Flid,’ Peng Yu said in broken English as he met al-Falid in the compound outside the accommodation block.
‘Thank you. When was the last time we sent General Ho some bear bile?’ al-Falid asked.
‘Not for while. You want more?’ al-Falid nodded. ‘Make sure the driver has a package on ice before we leave tomorrow morning. He can deliver it personally. And make sure it’s from a young bear.’
Peng Yu headed off towards the stinking compound where the bears had been imprisoned for years. He unlocked the store at the back of the compound, retrieved a blunt knife and a catheter and headed back into the main area where nearly fifty bears were in cages. Oblivious to the deep groaning of the older bears, Peng Yu hooked a thin rope around the youngest bear’s front and rear legs, pulling them through the cage, and tied the rope off.
‘This is a typical airconditioning system,’ al-Falid explained to the young Uighur men he’d gathered around a large table at the back of the accommodation block. ‘The substance will come in vials like this,’ he said, holding up a vial of pink-coloured water. ‘Our people need to be trained to gain access to the airconditioning ducts in their particular building. You will be given a number of dates on which you can strike and apart from the airport, which day you choose is not important,’ he said, looking at the cell leader for Beijing’s Capitol International. ‘The airport is to be struck over three successive days at the start of the Games, for maximum effect.’ Suddenly the training session was interrupted by the high-pitched squealing of the young moon bear, his agonised cries carrying up the hill as Peng Yu attacked the bear’s stomach with the blunt knife.
The Beijing conspiracy Page 31