The Beijing conspiracy

by Adrian D'hage

  ‘I am confident we will win this war on terror and I intend to muster every resource at our disposal to ensure victory.’

  The combined House and Senate rose to their feet and applauded as the President left the building.

  Richard Halliwell was in his office, wondering how Bolton’s announcement might affect his own campaign which he was about to formally announce. He would need to discuss things with Esposito. The situation on the ground in Iraq was worse than at any time since the invasion, and Esposito’s polling was showing that the anti-war sentiment was growing. The announcement of the draft might be the final straw that would put many of the President’s supporters in Halliwell’s camp, although the view that it should not only be the soldiers bearing the brunt of war but the whole of the nation was still strong and the polling over the next few days would bear careful watching. At least the Democrats were in their usual disarray, Halliwell thought to himself. The New Hampshire Primary would be like the charge of the Light Brigade. Hillary Clinton had long ago declared she was ‘in it to win’, and with Bill Clinton campaigning for her, Halliwell did not underestimate her chances. Senator Barack Obama had also captured the public’s imagination. He was black, Halliwell mused, and with a name like ‘Obama’ surely unthinkable, even to the donkey vote. No fewer than six others including Governor Bill Richardson of New Mexico and John Kerry’s old running mate, the former Senator John Edwards, had entered what was rapidly becoming a very crowded field. That had its advantages as it would split the votes and increase the chance that those who had the biggest war chest would win, especially on the Democratic side. Halliwell’s war chest was vast. It was almost time for the announcement.

  Halliwell turned his mind back to Beijing. The vaccines would be made available through the embassy network and, for the distribution of the Ebolapox, Halliwell had set up a secure communications line between the Triad leader and Halliwell’s office in Shanghai. He’d been assured that everything was ready.

  Halliwell’s target list included Beijing’s Capitol Airport as well as the underground and key airconditioning systems. Unbeknown to Halliwell, Kadeer’s list was remarkably similar. It would come down to which of the final attackers could get their hands on the deadly vials first.

  Halliwell locked the plans for Beijing in his safe and headed towards the lift. Dolinsky had succeeded in combining the RNA and DNA viruses and the chimpanzees subjected to the Ebolapox supervirus had all died violent deaths. It was time to find out if the virus had a similar effect on humans.

  Halliwell paid the pound man in cash and watched him leave. After the delivery door slid back into place, he turned his attention to the first of the drug-addicted vagrants strapped to the steel trolleys – a black woman in her late twenties, needle marks visible on her arms and legs. Being black, she would have a smaller brain than her white counterparts, Halliwell mused, moving to another trolley where a second woman lay. This one had dirty matted hair and mud-stained legs and when he saw the fear in her wide blue eyes, Halliwell felt a surge of power. He paused and then decided against it. She had small breasts, and in any case, she was in her early forties. That said, the human flotsam in front of him on the trolley was white, so there would be no decision needed as to which one he would inject with the vaccine.

  Halliwell began to suit up. He was particularly interested to see if, in addition to the bloody pustules of smallpox, the symptoms of Ebola might also appear – blinding headache and muscle aches, excruciating abdominal pain, nausea, searing sore throat, dizziness, tachycardia, vomiting of blood and continuous bloody diarrhoea. With the prognosis for Ebolapox and the viability of the vaccine looking promising, Halliwell felt an intense satisfaction as he wandered over to the CD player, selected Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony and turned up the volume. Beethoven always enhanced his feeling of power and destiny.

  In China, General Ho Feng, who was chairing the monthly Olympic Security meeting, had also watched the American President’s address with interest and derision. For this meeting, Ho Feng had chosen the Qingdao Olympic Sailing Centre. The huge banner on the wall read:

  ‘One World, One Dream’.

  A wooden board hung beside the banner. Under the heading ‘Days to Go’ was the number 212.

  ‘I see the Americans are not too pleased with our space programs,’ General Ho said as he opened the meeting. In addition to the representatives from the Beijing Organising Committee, the Police, the Peoples’ Liberation Army and Intelligence, Ho was focusing on the Qingdao Sailing Test Event and the Chinese Navy was also represented. ‘They had better get used to it,’ Ho said with a sinister smile. ‘They think they own it but not for long. Now, what progress on security of the harbour?’

  The Naval Captain bowed and switched on a PowerPoint presentation with a satellite photograph of the harbour defences. ‘The principle we are following is one of “above and below”,’ the Captain said, ‘and while the police will look after things above the water, we will have 125 divers to look after the wharves and pontoons, and before any races or presentations we will do a thorough check for bombs and mines. Outside the harbour we will patrol with destroyers and other vessels.’ Even at this meeting not all of the officials were cleared to know the locations of China’s submarines but as the briefing progressed anyone present could not help but be impressed with the thoroughness of the Chinese preparations.

  ‘Good,’ General Ho said after the Naval Captain had finished his brief and the Chief of Police had outlined the plans for security on the surface. Even the lifejackets on the ferries would be inspected to ensure one had not been substituted with a look-alike bomb. ‘You will also be pleased to know we are training 10,000 mice to taste the athletes’ food before every course.’ No one laughed because General Ho was deadly serious. ‘And we have vaccinated 550,323 dogs in Beijing against rabies. This will not only be the greatest Games ever, it will also be the safest.’

  ‘You’ve seen the reports on the planned protests?’ Ho asked the Qingdao Police Chief after the meeting had finished.

  ‘The Human Rights groups?’ the Police Chief sneered.

  Ho nodded. ‘Including the Uighurs and the Animal Rights activists, although it is hard to tell the difference between those two,’ Ho added sarcastically. ‘Crush them, but out of sight of the cameras. Make sure they are not allowed to even gather here and I want special protection paid to the big bear farm near Lao Shan. I’m sure you will be able to do that without difficulty.’

  ‘It will not be a problem, General Ho,’ the Police Chief said with a knowing smile. Chinese guanxi worked both ways.

  CHAPTER 84

  HALLIWELL TOWER, ATLANTA

  S imone pressed the intercom reply button. She was in a foul mood. ‘I’ll be with you in a moment, Richard.’ She knew that would irritate him immensely; it was meant to, although this morning she would make one last attempt.

  ‘Yes, Richard,’ Simone said, as she stepped into his office.

  ‘Is everything in order for New Hampshire,’ he asked, without looking up from the papers he was working on.

  ‘I’ve checked the accommodation. You and Constance are booked in at the Metropole. Esposito still refuses to take my calls so I’m not sure what his arrangements are,’ she added pointedly.

  Halliwell looked up from his desk, a cold anger in his eyes. ‘Enough! Esposito is booked in at the same hotel I gave you to organise.’

  Simone turned and walked out of the office, the fire in her eyes the same colour as her hair.

  Dan Esposito, while ostensibly on President Bolton’s team, had been a very busy man. No one knew better than Esposito that the New Hampshire primary would be crucial. Even though other states had now moved their primary dates forward, there had always been a debate as to whether New Hampshire was more important than Iowa, the next primary on the election calendar, but as a previous New Hampshire Governor had once put it, ‘the people of Iowa pick corn, the people of New Hampshire pick Presidents’.

  ‘My values in l
ife are those my parents taught me, values that have made America the great nation we are today,’ Halliwell began. The crowd, many of them handpicked broke into wild, flag-waving applause. Esposito’s contacts had organised the layout of the podium, covered in red ‘Halliwell’ posters, down to the last camera angle. Constance Halliwell was on the Presidential candidate’s right. Halliwell’s son and daughter, together with their young families stood further to the right. On Halliwell’s left, but still well in shot, stood America’s most famous evangelist, the Reverend Jerry Buffett. Sally McLeod, Richard Halliwell’s new but yet to be announced executive assistant, was well out of shot to the side. McLeod, a leggy, tanned, blue-eyed blonde had just graduated in political science from Georgia University and Dan Esposito had been none too impressed with Halliwell’s insistence that she accompany them on the campaign trail. Esposito had acquiesced with a warning. ‘Keep her out of camera shot and stay out of her pants, Halliwell, or you’re fucking dead in the water.’ Halliwell vowed that once he made the White House, it would be Esposito who would be dead in the water.

  ‘We need a new face in Washington,’ Halliwell continued, pausing to smile broadly the way Esposito’s PR team had coaxed him. ‘A face that is not tainted by the corruption we’ve seen in Congress. Someone who understands what it’s like to live and work outside the beltway, someone who started at the bottom.’ It was a carefully crafted strategy, designed to turn charges of Halliwell’s lack of experience in Washington to an advantage, and if the early polls were anything to go by, it was working. Halliwell was leading President Bolton by fifteen percentage points.

  ‘I stand before you today as a champion of family values, fidelity and freedom, and as the next President of the United States of America, I look forward to taking those values into the White House and the wider world,’ he concluded, and the crowd went wild. New Hampshire was in the bag but, as Esposito had warned him, the race for the White House was a marathon, not a sprint.

  ‘I’m very glad you could join us at such short notice, Sally. It’s a real bonus to have someone with your qualifications on the team and if there’s anything I can do, just ask,’ Halliwell said smoothly, raising his champagne flute and clinking it with his new assistant. It was past midnight and Constance had long since retired to the suite Simone had booked in the fashionable old New England hotel. Halliwell and Sally were standing close together at the window of Sally’s suite.

  ‘It’s a wonderful opportunity, Richard. I’m enjoying every moment,’ Sally replied, smiling seductively and making no move to put any distance between her and her new boss. ‘The crowd seemed very enthusiastic today, don’t you think?’

  ‘Couldn’t be better. We’re leading Bolton by a clear fifteen points,’ Halliwell replied, re-filling Sally’s glass with Krug.

  ‘That champagne is just wonderful,’ she enthused. ‘Do you think the other challengers are any threat?’

  ‘Not if what Esposito tells me is right, and he ought to know,’ he replied, confidently. Esposito did indeed know, and in six months time, with the Beijing Olympics a bare 30 days away, the only two to be left on the Republican side would be Halliwell and Bolton. Halliwell put his arm around Sally’s waist and pointed towards the lights of Concord, New Hampshire’s small but elegant capital. ‘What we got from the people here today is just a taste of what’s to come over the next six months, Sally. We’re on our way to the White House,’ Richard whispered, his hand beginning to wander.

  CHAPTER 85

  TIAN SHAN, THE HEAVENLY MOUNTAINS, XINJIANG

  T here was less than a month to go until the Games; white clouds streamed off the lower granite peaks of the Tian Shan, Xinjiang’s heavenly mountains in the northern part of the autonomous region near the Chinese north-western border with Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan. The higher peaks, the Jengish Chokusu and the Khan Tengri or ‘Lord of the Spirits’ rose above the clouds and, at over 7000 metres, they were the most northerly peaks over that height anywhere in the world. The setting sun had touched the magnificent, craggy peaks and the snow was tinged with soft hues of orange and red.

  In a safe house in the heavily wooded Alatau foothills, guarded by the same fiercely loyal tribal warriors who had escorted him into Peshawar, Khalid Kadeer weighed up his options, but his mood was bleak. The infidel had taken no notice of the warnings and the final solution would now be necessary. al-Falid, his firebrand lieutenant, had given him a message in one of their chat rooms that Dolinsky had perfected the Ebolapox and developed a vaccine. The news that Richard Halliwell had ordered a trial run of several thousand vials of the vaccine was puzzling but Kadeer had determined that could be put to al-Qaeda’s use. Once al-Falid, Dolinsky and the vials of Ebolapox had reached the bear farm, there would be enough vaccine for his people in Xinjiang, Qingdao, Beijing and other selected cells around the world.

  As the snow started to fall, coating the tall Alatau conifers with white crystals, Kadeer’s thoughts turned to the United States and her allies. President Bolton had turned out to be far worse than Harrison, if that was possible, and there had been no response to Kadeer’s demands for negotiation since the caesium chloride attacks. Instead, the Olympic fever that had been gripping Beijing for months had now engulfed the rest of the world. Beijing was a sea of flags and colourful bunting and with the Olympic torch just twenty-three days out from Beijing, the expectation of a nation was rising. Hundreds of millions of yuan had been spent on sporting stadiums, fireworks for test events, and opening and closing ceremonies, while the majority of people in the world didn’t have water that was safe to drink, Kadeer thought sadly. The war in Iraq was costing over a billion dollars a week and the world continued to ignore the Chinese Communist Party’s murderous persecution of the Uighur Muslims and other minority groups.

  In Urumqi, the capital of Xinjiang, and in the other cities like Kashgar, the passage of the Olympic torch saturated the news, even when the Han Chinese had made another major oil discovery. Reporting on the US Presidential election was also scant, although Kadeer had been following it very closely online. It remained to be seen what would happen if either a woman or a black Senator got up, but Bolton and Halliwell were only separated by a few percentage points and Kadeer knew he had no choice. It would be another four years before the unique circumstances of the Games came around again. With the opening ceremony timed for 8 p.m. on 8 August 2008, Kadeer knew he couldn’t afford to wait until the Presidential elections. The first Tuesday in November would be way too late.

  CHAPTER 86

  HALLIWELL TOWER, ATLANTA

  I n the large office she shared with Imran, one floor below Halliwell’s office, Kate listened with a sense of foreboding as Imran briefed Curtis on the secure STU phone the CIA had installed.

  ‘The single strand has not only met its double, Curtis,’ Imran said, his voice grave, ‘but it’s working every time. You and I both know that one of the major problems in genetically engineering a super virus is that once the RNA is incorporated into a bacterial plasmid, the reverse transcriptase enzyme often makes errors. That doesn’t occur in nature because living cells contain proofreading mechanisms. Dolinsky is using reverse transcriptases that have much higher fidelity. Every chimpanzee that has been injected with Ebolapox has died within four days.’

  At the memory of the experiments Kate fought to control her anger. When she’d assisted Imran with the necropsies, both of them had been sickened by the viciousness with which the Ebolapox had attacked every organ in the bodies of the chimps, turning their hearts, livers, spleens, kidneys and lungs into a dark, bloody mush. None of them knew that Halliwell had produced identical results on the vagrants.

  ‘And Dolinsky’s progress on vaccines?’ Curtis asked, his voice reflecting the worry he shared with Imran and Kate.

  ‘That’s the chilling part, Curtis. Normally it would take over a year, perhaps more to develop an effective vaccine, but since he’s arrived he’s produced several, although only one of those is effective.’

  �
��One is enough to give this administration the confidence to use this as a weapon,’ Curtis replied.

  ‘Halliwell has directed that several thousand doses be prepared, which I find very odd, but Dolinsky’s rapid progress is even more disturbing. The Russians might have removed him from this sort of program but looking at the way he’s worked, you get the feeling we’ve not so much been involved in research here as helped to put the finishing touches to a program Dolinsky might have already been close to finishing. If the White House wanted proof that this could be done, I could have explained that on a whiteboard,’ Imran said, frustrated.

  ‘I agree,’ Curtis said. ‘I think perhaps it’s time you and Kate came to Washington to bring Tom McNamara, the Deputy Director of Operations up to date. When do you and Kate get back from Singapore?’ he asked, disappointed that pressures of work would prevent him from going to the International Bioterrorism Conference this time around.

  ‘We’ll be away for a little over two weeks,’ Imran replied. ‘The World Health Organization has a conference in Kuala Lumpur two days after Singapore.’

  ‘Swing by Washington on your way home. Enjoy,’ he added wistfully.

  The day after Imran and Kate left for Singapore, al-Falid arranged to meet Eduard Dolinsky inside the Halliwell Laboratories. With Halliwell away campaigning there was even less chance of being disturbed.

  ‘The ocean-going tug, the George Washington is berthed at the ocean terminal in Savannah,’ al-Falid said quietly, pulling up the overhead photographs of the port that had been published on the internet. ‘It is just here, east of the oil terminal and not far from the maintenance dock. After the surveillance team clocks off, a vehicle will pick you up from your apartment tomorrow night. It’s going to take two weeks to get there, and even though it is summer in China, it can still get very cold where you’re going so pack some warm clothes.’