‘I apologise for the break in procedure, Mr President, but a matter of the utmost importance has arisen that you need to be briefed on.’
‘Can’t this wait, Burton, I have a speech to make,’ President Bolton replied irritably.
‘No it can’t, Mr President. I need to brief you in my office before you enter the chamber.’
‘This better be good, Burton,’ President Bolton snapped.
The Sergeant at Arms followed at a discrete distance, determined to do his duty, but still struggling to come to terms with the enormity of the conspiracy to attack the world in Beijing and his President’s involvement. A short distance away, an unusual silence had descended on the packed and normally vocal chamber.
‘Are these yours, Mr President,’ Davis Burton asked, pushing a document across his desk towards President Bolton seated on the other side. The document contained details of the nearly $50 million in bribes that had been deposited in Bolton’s account under the name of Charles Boardman.
‘How dare you!’ President Bolton exploded. ‘I’ll have you flung out on the street for this.’ The President had turned a peculiar shade of pale.
‘I don’t think so, Mr President.’ Right to the last, Davis Burton adhered to the protocol of calling the disgraced and criminally negligent President by his title. Speaker Davis Burton pressed a button on the high fidelity recording the CIA had provided of the conversation between Bolton and Richard Halliwell in his office. As the tape finished, President Bolton had become paler still. ‘A super virus is no respecter of international borders, Richard. I don’t give a shit how many millions of these slanty-eyed Chinese we wipe out, the more the better, but we’d want to make damn sure we had a vaccine to protect Americans, especially our athletes before we released it.’ ‘You’ve hit the nail on the head, Chuck. Dolinsky is one of the few people, and perhaps the only one who could develop both the virus and its vaccine quickly. I can look after the distribution in Beijing, but I’d need your help to get the virus in through the black bag.’
At the last moment, Tom McNamara and the Speaker of the House had briefed both the Director of the United States Secret Service and the Director of the CIA. Two Secret Service agents normally charged with protection stood outside the Speaker of the House’s office, ready to assist the Senate’s Sergeant at Arms, the only man empowered under the Constitution to arrest the President. The Director of the CIA had been apoplectic at not being told but McNamara had looked him squarely in the eye. ‘I’ve seen a lot of Directors in my time, but you’re arguably the worst and if you want proof, just look up the file on Bill Crawford. He was decapitated because you refused to give young agents enough training to equip them to operate in some of the godforsaken places we send them. By the time we get to the bottom of this cesspool, you’re the one who’s going to need re-training because your mates in the White House aren’t going to save you.’
The Sergeant at Arms need not have worried about having backup. The last of the evidence on the tape was not as damning as the plans for Beijing, but it would be enough to put the President behind bars for a very long time. ‘The fewer people that know about this, the better, Chuck. Genetic engineering’s come a long way and provided they’re at the top of their field, two scientists will be enough. You think you can sell it in Washington?’ ‘I sold the idea of a new $500 million bio-level four complex for you, and I’ll be working on the contract for the production of smallpox vaccines as well, which comes in at half a billion; and the last time I looked, your contracts in Iraq this year topped $300 million.’ ‘You will find there will be $10 million of that in your Bahamas account by the end of the week.’
The President of the United States of America slumped in his chair.
‘I intend to see to it that you face the full force of the law, Mr President,’ demanded Davis Burton. ‘For the moment that will be restricted to the bribes you’ve taken over the years. The members of the Senate and the House have only been given enough detail to ensure their cooperation and silence on this extraordinary conspiracy in Beijing. You’ve been a party to one of the most sinister plots in the history of mankind. My colleagues and I agree that it is in neither America’s nor the world’s interest to make this public, but that will depend on whether or not we can recover the vials.’
President Bolton’s eyes widened in horror.
‘No, Mr President, they have not, as you previously authorised, been delivered through the American Embassy’s diplomatic bag to Halliwell’s paid thugs. Two weeks ago they were stolen from Halliwell’s laboratories by Dolinsky, the man you insisted we give assistance to defect. Dr Eduard Dolinsky works for al-Qaeda. Curtis O’Connor is going to attempt to recover these vials. If he doesn’t, I can’t think what the outcome might be, except for one certainty. You will die in the electric chair. Either way, may the Lord have mercy on you for your betrayal of the high office to which you were entrusted.’
The President nodded in a daze.
The Sergeant at Arms, accompanied by the two Secret Service agents escorted the President to a side door where a car was waiting. Davis Burton had insisted that the images of a President under arrest not be beamed around the world by the mass of media waiting for the President to re-emerge after his speech on the Hill. With a grim determination, Burton walked towards the chamber to deliver a history-making speech of his own.
‘It is with a deep sense of sadness that I announce to my fellow Americans, and to the world that the President of the United States has been arrested.’
Gasps of disbelief could be heard in the visitors’ gallery.
‘As Vice President, and as our chief executive, President Bolton has been involved in serious criminal activities, including the acceptance of millions of dollars in bribes.’ The carefully worded statement allowed for further elaboration on those activities should the Beijing conspiracy ever become public.
‘I expect many in the wider community will want to know why impeachment proceedings have not been brought. In this case, the crimes are so serious and the evidence so compelling that when confronted with that evidence a short while ago in the Office of the Speaker, the President had no defence.’ Davis Burton waited while the murmurs of shock and amazement died down in the gallery.
‘In the absence of a Vice President, the office of President falls to me as Speaker of the House and the next most senior person in line. Although I have sought this office in the past, I would never have wanted to assume the position under these circumstances; but just as the democratic process that is the backbone of this great country determined the results of the elections I fought and lost, under a little known section of our Constitution, it allows for the arrest of a wayward President by the Senate Sergeant at Arms. Now is not the time for electioneering, now is the time for healing, but, if my colleagues so wish it, I will once again put my name forward for this great office. In the meantime, I do not intend to introduce any substantial items of domestic policy in the months remaining until the next election. In the area of foreign policy, I will do everything I can to restore the good name we once had among those with whom we share this planet. I am reminded of what the great President Harry S. Truman once said from this very spot. In his 1951 State of the Union address, when he was referring to the threat from Communism, he said, and I quote: “The United Nations, the world’s greatest hope for peace, has come through a year of trial stronger and more useful than ever. The free nations have stood together in blocking Communist attempts to tear up the charter.”
I am sad to say that, in recent months, it has been the United States of America that has been trying to rip up the charter. I read a report the other day from the Peres Centre for Peace where 70 per cent of Palestinians and Israelis favour reaching a peace agreement and a surprising number of those are in favour of a Palestinian state. That report suggests to me that one of the greatest obstacles to peace in the Middle East has been self-serving politicians and minority groups on both sides. The Peres Centre is one organisation that
is bringing Palestinians and Israelis to work together, sharing ideas in fields like agriculture and business, but more importantly, enabling Israelis and Palestinians alike to get to know, understand and respect each other’s different cultures. You will not find it reported in the mainstream media but young people are bonding amidst the camaraderie on the sports field. Mixed teams of Palestinians and Israelis are being pitted against other teams of Palestinians and Israelis. Like an effective United Nations, if that sort of good will can be harnessed on a greater scale, and if I can move towards spending a billion dollars a week on health and education instead of bombing the populations of Iraq and Lebanon, then whether my fellow Americans decide I should stay put or leave the White House, I will be a very happy man.’ Burton paused again as the Democrats and many on his own side of politics applauded. The shock of the arrest of the President had certainly not subsided, but Davis Burton was widely respected as a man of vision by both sides and already he seemed to be providing hope for a far more peaceful future, not only for the United States, but for the world at large.
‘I don’t agree with Dr Kadeer’s methods but he is right in insisting that Palestinian families have the same aspirations as anyone else. We take for granted in this country that we are able to enrol in a school or a university. Many Palestinian children would give their right arm to have the same opportunity. There’s been far too much bloodshed, and we need to find common ground with other cultures. Just as we would not tolerate an Islamic army camped on the shores of the Potomac, perhaps withdrawal of our armies from around the Islamic holy sites might be feasible. I intend to try and find a way to do that through intermediaries in the United Nations.’
Thousands of kilometres away, Dr Kahlid Kadeer watched the address and wondered if this was an infidel who could be trusted, although Kadeer knew that it was now too late. He had received word from al-Falid that all the teams were in position and the final rehearsals for putting the virus into the airconditioning systems had begun.
‘Finally, to the fundamentalists of all religions who believe that theirs is the only path to salvation, I would ask them to ponder what sort of a God would oversee the creation of a billion Christians, a billion Muslims and over four billion people of other paths and faiths, then in some obscene cosmological joke, declare that only one group had been given the map. What sort of a God would rapture up a small proportion of his creation and leave the rest to burn in a sulphurous chasm? What sort of a God demonstrates his Greatness by destroying thousands of innocent women and children? That is not the sort of God I want to worship, and those who think their God sanctions horrific violence have not read the script, and it comes in more than one language,’ he concluded, mirroring the views of Kadeer.
‘In the time available to me I will do everything I can to negotiate a meaningful peace in the Middle East that is fair to all sides, but I cannot do it on my own, and I would appeal to the moderates of all cultures and faiths to meet me halfway. Compromise is not a weakness but a wisdom.’
As the distinguished Davis Burton left the podium, the members of Congress got to their feet and applauded. Not all Americans would agree with his decision to try and find common ground with someone like Khalid Kadeer, but given the alternative, they were prepared to let him try. America had not seen a politician of such vision in a long time.
CHAPTER 97
QUINGDAO BEAR FARM, SHANDONG PROINCE, CHINA
C urtis parked the car the US Embassy had lent him and he and Kate covered the last 500 metres to the entrance on foot. The bear farm was in darkness and Kate followed Curtis as he kept close to the pine trees surrounding the compound. Neither needed the satellite maps and imagery they’d been poring over to know when they’d reached the bear compound; the stench was enough. Curtis propped just past the gap in the mound and signalled Kate to stop.
‘Wait here,’ he whispered.
The continuous satellite surveillance of the bear farm had provided imagery of people coming and going between the administration building on the left and the accommodation building at the top of the small rise above them. The big KeyHole satellites had provided night vision of one or two guards patrolling but tonight the whole place seemed deserted, except for the vehicle outside the accommodation block. Curtis moved forward cautiously across the open ground and was nearly two-thirds of the way to the vehicle when a big set of sensor lights flooded the compound. Curtis ran towards the trees and dived into cover as three bullets whistled past his ears.
From behind the mound Kate could see whoever had come out of the building moving towards the edge of the trees and, holding her pistol against the mound to steady it, she fired off three quick shots.
Earlier in the evening, in the city of Shanghai, the residents had gone wild as the Olympic torch was paraded along the Bund beside the Huangpu River, past elegant and imposing buildings that reflected Shanghai’s colonial past. Across the river in the Pudong New Area, the viewing platforms in the Pearl TV tower and one of the world’s tallest buildings, the Jin Mao, had been packed.
Further north in a warehouse on the outskirts of Beijing, the team leaders al-Falid had trained at the bear farm were being issued with syringes.
‘Under no circumstance are the vials to be opened until you’re ready to use them,’ al-Falid’s commander in Beijing directed, picking up a cheap plastic syringe which could be bought in any drugstore. ‘The nozzles on these syringes have been modified slightly to produce a fine mist in the shape of a fan.’ He opened a vial of coloured water, filled the syringe and, holding it about 10 centimeters from the intake duct of an air conditioner, sprayed it with an even coat of the liquid. ‘Once you and your teams have completed putting the virus into the systems you’ve been allocated, wipe the syringes and vials clean of any fingerprints and dispose of them in a rubbish bin as far away from the building you work in as possible.’
Confused as to how the intruder might have got back to the bear enclosure so quickly, al-Falid fired three more shots towards the gap on the mound.
Kate winced as a bullet grazed her left shoulder. Ignoring the pain she lay on the ground and returned fire.
Curtis counted the shots as he worked his way up through the pine forest, circling back towards his quarry. He was 10 metres above the man when Kate fired again. Go girl! Curtis thought. He could see his quarry through the trees and as the man returned fire, his face was silhouetted by the sensor lights. Curtis would have recognised that nose anywhere. al-Falid fired at Kate twice more, then there was a resounding click. Less than 5 metres from the man who had set out to destroy civilisation, Curtis calmly took aim and fired. al-Falid grabbed his stomach, his pistol and the new magazine tumbling onto the pine needles.
‘Kate! It’s me, don’t shoot!’ Curtis yelled, conscious that Kate would be firing at any movement. al-Falid made a move towards his pistol but Curtis kicked it out of the way.
‘This one’s for Bill Crawford, Mr Ferraro-al-Falid.’ al-Falid’s eyes widened in fear. Curtis felt no emotion as he fired once between them.
‘Kate! Up here and stay low!’ Curtis ordered as he turned towards the accommodation block, wondering where Dolinsky was hiding.
‘Cover me,’ he said to Kate when they reached the edge of the pine forest close to the building. With his back to the wall, Curtis eased his way along the covered walkway, kicking open each door in turn. As he entered the last room, he found Dolinsky’s body on the blood-soaked bed.
‘Shot twice through the back of the head. More of al-Falid’s handiwork, I suspect. No sign of the vials. I only hope they’re still here.’
It took just one shot to blast the flimsy lock off the administration building, but a search only revealed a rudimentary sales area for powdered bear bile products and a cafe with bear bile soup featuring prominently on the menu. A soup made from bear bile powder cost a mere US$2.50, but if the bile was fresh from the bear, the soup would set you back ten times that amount or 200 yuan. Kate and Curtis both knew price would be no obstacle
to those who valued it for its supposed medicinal qualities.
‘And they want a leading place in the twenty-first century,’ Curtis muttered. ‘Fucking barbarians.’ As he turned back towards Kate, Curtis noticed blood seeping through her shirt.
‘You’ve been hit,’ he said, concern in his voice.
‘It’s just a graze,’ Kate replied, almost defensively.
‘I’ll be the judge of that,’ Curtis said, sitting Kate on a wooden bench and unbuttoning her shirt. Kate looked up at him and smiled. ‘Not now, darling,’ she whispered.
‘You’re right,’ Curtis said with a grin. ‘Although when we get out of this shitbox, there’s a first aid satchel in the car. The only place we haven’t searched is the bear compound.’
Kate felt sick, not so much from the stench of bear bile and excrement, but from the low howls of agony from the caged bears. She and Curtis had paused briefly at one cage where the beautiful creature was trapped in a mediaeval truss, bleeding from where metal had gouged the skin away. Like Maverick and the other Great Apes, there was a look of ‘Why?’ in the tortured bear’s eyes that neither she nor Curtis would ever forget.
‘They’re all here,’ Curtis said, after he’d counted the lethal vials, each with a plastic syringe attached, but neither he nor Kate felt like relaxing. Beijing was still 800 kilometres to the west.
They reached the first police Games checkpoint on the outskirts of Ji’nan, the provincial capital.
The young Chinese policeman waved Curtis to a stop, and was about to ask for his papers when an older policemen approached. A short exchange in Mandarin followed and the older man pointed to the diplomatic plates.
‘Very sorry,’ the younger policeman said with a smile, handing Curtis back his passport and waving him and Kate through. The next checkpoint was at the great Yellow River; again they were waved through.
The Beijing conspiracy Page 39