by Jack Hyland
Gerard wound up his call with Baskin. Gerard’s car pulled onto the drive at the back of the castle and swept around the castle grounds and in a couple of minutes was headed on the major road to the Frankfurt airport.
21
One week later, Gerard called Tom, reaching him at Alex’s place at Campo dè Fiori. “You’re in Washington?” Tom asked. “I thought you were on assignment in Geneva.”
“That’s over. I’m about to take off on a new assignment. How are you doing?” Gerard asked.
“It’s the most amazing change. From the moment I visited the Roman Forum before the accident until the fire at Kronberg Castle, I felt like I had this gigantic weight on my shoulders. No matter what I did, people wanted me for one thing or another, or threatened me, or kidnapped me. True, Alex came into my life—that’s a great thing. But I was seriously concerned for her safety. Now, both she and I are back to where we were, except we’re together.”
“What about all the attention you’d been receiving?” Gerard asked with a laugh.
“You mean, do I miss articles about me in the newspapers, or reporters calling, or strange, unidentified people tailing me or kidnapping me? No, the silence is deafening and golden.” Tom continued, “I’m working on my book, editing, getting ready for courses at NYU this fall, even answering a few questions from the New York Police Department about some criminal issues they’ve encountered. Alex has returned to her coursework, eager to complete her dissertation on the history of pandemic diseases. It’s our plan to live in New York after Labor Day, and see how things go.”
“I imagine,” said Gerard, “that they’ll go well.”
Tom said, “Hope so, thanks. You know, Gerard, I wonder about Belagri. What will happen to them?”
Gerard replied, “You may have missed this. Two days ago, the board of directors of Belagri announced their choice for Bailitz’s successor as president and chief executive officer.”
“Who is it? I didn’t hear anything about this.”
“Are you ready for a surprise? Belagri’s new chief is Crystal Close.”
Tom was shocked into silence.
Gerard said, “Tom, are you there?”
“I can’t believe it,” Tom replied.
“The stock market didn’t like it at all. A woman CEO of a company as predatory as Belagri? The stock price plunged 15 percent. I don’t believe the market has any conception about the kind of person Crystal is.”
Tom responded, “If investors knew Crystal they’d have run the stock up, not down. She’s incredibly tough. How do you think she got the board to name her CEO?”
“My guess,” Gerard said, “is Crystal made clear to the board that she’s got ‘the goods’ on the company. Undoubtedly she also told them in no uncertain terms just what Bailitz almost pulled off. By the way, the company elevated two other officers, putting them into the president’s office—a scientist named Winch and a marketing guy named Parker. Do you know them?”
Tom replied, “I’ve met them—I would consider they’re already a team.”
Gerard added, “You asked about Belagri’s future. My experience is that global companies are almost indestructible institutions. Belagri will plow ahead. Unless Crystal makes the company change directions, it will continue to be the most powerful company in the agricultural field.”
“With one difference,” said Tom, “there won’t be any Moses Virus to intimidate third world countries or start a human pandemic.”
Gerard said, “Speaking of third world countries—the Department of Justice—with a little nudge from the CDC—landed hard on Belagri. The DOJ extracted an agreement from Belagri to make its products available for a ten-year period to farmers in developing nations at ‘reasonable’—a defined term—prices.”
“How did the DOJ do this?”
“They agreed not to investigate Belagri’s historical pricing—over the past ten years—to farmers from a group of ten countries. They agreed to let Belagri off the hook in exchange for an agreed-upon formula pricing in the same countries for the next ten years.”
“Is that harsh?” asked Tom.
“Better than an investigation with penalties. You’ll love this, however. Belagri has decided to call its new program the Hermann Bailitz Initiative to Ease World Hunger.”
“Do you mean,” said Tom, “that Bailitz actually might emerge as a kind of folk hero?”
“That’s the irony. The biggest villain becomes a world philanthropist.”
“I can see all sorts of problems with the DOJ, Belagri, and the Hermann Bailitz Initiative,” Tom stated, “but I’m finishing my book and heading back to NYU.” Tom was quiet for a moment, then added, “What are you up to?”
“I’m off tonight to Africa. There’s been an outbreak of SARS, which could get out of control. I’m heading a team, and we’re anxious to make certain a minipandemic does not happen.”
“Where in Africa are you going?” Tom inquired.
“Nairobi. Strange, isn’t it?”
Tom said, “At least you know now what Nairobi looks like, don’t you?”
Gerard laughed. “Thanks to Bailitz, yes. More important, SARS has a history of being able to be contained. Quite a different story if I were going there because of the Moses Virus.”
Later that day, Tom and Alex were invited to lunch at the American Academy by Caroline. It was a fiercely hot summer day toward the end of August. Rome was like a sauna. Heat shimmered upward from sidewalks, but despite it, the streets were crowded with buses and cars filled with tourists seemingly oblivious to the sweltering temperatures.
As Tom and Alex walked from the taxi through the wrought-iron gates, Norm greeted them from his guardhouse. In front of them was the larger circular stone fountain whose sound of falling water immediately seemed to shut out any street noise and cool the air.
They walked up the two flights of wide steps into the large vestibule of the Main Building. Both fountains in the vestibule were resonating with the sound of falling water. Then there was one short flight of steps, which brought Tom and Alex to the garden level. In the center of the courtyard surrounded by four cypresses was the Paul Manship fountain, which added its cascade to the sounds of water from the vestibule.
Alex said to Tom, “This place is so full of falling water that the sound really does shut out Rome. It’s also cooler and a strong buffer against—”
“The sultry summer?” Tom finished her sentence.
“Sultry is the right word, but one I can’t imagine an Italian using.”
Tom said, “It’s fifteen minutes before 1 p.m., and Caroline asked us to stop at her office first.”
Lucia rose from her desk and walked toward them. “Tom, Alex, it’s good to see you. Rumors have gotten around—everyone’s talking about what happened at Kronberg Castle. Congratulations. Let me tell Caroline you’re here.”
Caroline had a big smile on her face. “Dr. Pulesi called yesterday with—he said—good news. He wanted to know if you, Tom, were around. I told him you’d be here for lunch today. He asked if I would call him when you arrived—he’d save the good news.”
Tom said, “Let’s make the call.”
After some pleasantries, Pulesi said, “The whole Italian government is indebted to you, Tom, for ridding the world of Bailitz and stopping his threat of a pandemic hell.”
Tom laughed, saying, “Stefano—the whole Italian government?”
“Let’s just say, those of us who know how important your contribution has been. In any case, and this has been cleared with the Ministry of Italian Cultural Properties and Activities. The American Academy in Rome is authorized to reopen its excavation in the Roman Forum beginning next spring.”
Caroline said, “That’s wonderful news. We’re thrilled.”
Tom added, “I wonder if Belagri will continue to fund the dig?”
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p; Pulesi replied, “I have no idea what they’ll do—I’ve not been in touch with them at all. But I have one other thing I want to tell you, Tom.”
“What’s that?”
“We’ve hushed up all publicity about the virus to make certain there’s no continuing public awareness or possible hysteria. But I worried that some other group that might be seeking to gain possession of it might think you were still involved. So we quietly circulated throughout our departments a highly confidential memo that states that the virus was completely eradicated in a fire in Germany.”
“I don’t quite follow,” said Tom.
“Simple,” replied Pulesi. “A top-secret memo issued to the highest officials within the Italian ministries would immediately be disseminated to all interested foreign parties. I know for a fact that the Mossad and a couple of other groups received it. They will investigate the Kronberg Castle fire, I’m sure. So I’ve done what I can to bury this matter for you.”
Tom replied, “I can’t tell you how grateful I am. Anything to put distance between me and the virus is great. Many thanks.”
As he hung up, Pulesi joked with Tom, saying, “Good luck, and I hope never to run across you again.”
To which Tom added, “I suppose I would make the same wish.”
Caroline said, “Let’s go out to the courtyard—lunch will be served as soon as we get there. I think you’ll be surprised. You’re both guests of honor with a group of extremely curious fellows. Tom, if you’re willing, maybe you’ll say a few words.”
As the three arrived at the two long tables set for lunch, the fellows remained standing, clapping. Tom, used to speaking before students, remained standing while everyone else sat down. He began with a brief summary of the events, though as he spoke an idea began forming in his mind. As he covered the storming of Kronberg Castle and the intense fire in the labs, which destroyed the virus, the idea in his mind crystallized.
The waiters had put the food on the tables and everyone began to eat. Tom closed his short summary by highlighting his idea. “You may not realize the tremendous role the Academy played in this adventure. There lies below us and below the cryptoporticus a two-thousand-year-old aqueduct built by Emperor Trajan. With help from research in our library, and from the Swiss Institute, I learned a secret about this aqueduct, which became a key part of the story.
“In fact,” Tom continued, “not only have I walked to the Tiber from here in the aqueduct, but so has Alex. Right, Alex?”
Tom smiled and looked at Alex. She laughed and said, in a loud stage whisper, “There are rats down there.” This was greeted by nervous laughter.
Tom volunteered, “I’ll lead a walk in the Trajan aqueduct anytime any of you want to go.”
Tom concluded by telling the Fellows, “I’ve decided to write about this amazing adventure. At times, I wasn’t sure there would be a happy ending. Certainly, we are all devastated by the deaths of Doc Brown and Eric Bowen. But a serious world tragedy was averted, and I sincerely call this a most happy ending. Since things ended well, I’m going to start working on the book, and I hope I can get all of you to help—or at least ask you all to buy a copy.”
The lunch continued, and Tom found himself busy answering questions—throughout the meal and afterward in the bar where a larger than normal crowd gathered for coffee and cappuccinos.
As Tom and Alex headed back to her house in the Campo dè Fiori, Alex asked, “Did the idea of writing a book really just come to you as you addressed the fellows?”
“I think that’s when the idea jelled.”
“Going public with your intention does make the project more real, more of a commitment. Are you sure?”
“I realize that,” said Tom, “which is why I decided to go public with it.”
“I wonder,” added Alex, “how you will handle sensitive issues.”
“Which ones?”
“The role of the Catholic Church, for example.”
“Good question,” said Tom slowly. “If I’m totally honest, I’ll tell the back story of Cardinal Visconti.”
“That really drags them into it,” said Alex.
“Alex—you mentioned to me—and not too long ago, either—that the Church is a two-thousand-year-old bureaucracy that has been tough enough to survive. Well, this certainly can’t hurt them—much.”
Alex replied with a shrug. “Well, I’m glad you said ‘much.’ That may cover you.”
Tom added with a smile, “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll get started on the first chapter of the Moses Virus story this afternoon.”
“That’s your title? Not bad.”
Tom and Alex went to New York at the beginning of September. Tom’s classes at NYU began; Alex enrolled in NYU to continue working on her PhD. NYU agreed to accept her work at the University of Rome.
On a late afternoon in mid-September, Tom’s office telephone rang. He answered. It was Crystal. Immediately a flood of memories came back to him, not all of them pleasant.
Tom said immediately, “Congratulations are in order. I understand you’re the CEO of Belagri.”
“Thank you—that’s a long story. But I’m finding this new job more demanding than I imagined it to be.”
“I’m certain that you can handle it brilliantly. Good luck, by the way.”
“Tom, I’d like to close the loop on the grant we spoke to you about in Rome.”
“Crystal,” Tom replied, “I regard that as a commitment that vanished with Bailitz.”
“If you would like,” she said, “we’ll stand behind that consulting arrangement.”
“No, thanks. If there is some valid research I can perform, I’d be more than willing to earn some money for NYU. But don’t worry. I’ve told my dean that that grant would not happen.”
Tom could imagine her engaging smile as Crystal said, “We’ll figure out a way to have you help Belagri.”
There was a pause. The conversation was ostensibly over. But Tom was curious enough to pursue one question. “Crystal, you mentioned how demanding your job is. What did you mean?”
“Bailitz was truly brilliant,” she said. “He effectively ran the company as a dictatorship. So long as he made rational decisions he earned everyone’s respect.”
“But,” said Tom, “but, what?”
“Off the record,” Crystal said, “Bailitz took medication to even out his mood swings.”
“Do you mean lithium? Was he bipolar? I certainly have known friends who’ve had some personal experience with this.”
“With lithium, he was rational. If he omitted taking it, which he was in danger of doing when he was on one of his self-confident highs, he became a totally different personality. He saw himself—and Belagri, which was his alter ego—as having every right to be absolutely number one in every respect. Anyone standing in his way could, in his mind, be legitimately put down. By any means available to him.”
“He seemed willful but rational,” said Tom.
“Appearances,” Crystal said. “Just before the end Bailitz became obsessed. He could mask his feelings entirely. But I knew him well. He would not take his medication and would tell me he had taken it. In a more rational state, he would have been able to balance the risk of the virus to mankind with the advantage the possession of it gave to Belagri.” Crystal continued, “I hope you’ll believe me when I say that I was horrified once I learned that Bailitz planned to use the virus in Nairobi and in New York. It was then that I knew he had become unhinged.”
Tom protested, “But Bailitz had that situation room designed for Nairobi long before he ever knew he might be able to get the supply of the virus.”
“True,” replied Crystal, “but his original mission was to destroy crops, which he had planned to do so that Belagri could step in and control the market in Nairobi, making substantial profits along the way. He intended to use this as a s
howcase to warn other countries of what might happen to them. Bailitz never intended that anyone would know how the crops had failed. He wanted farmers and their governments to protect themselves by buying Belagri products. I did my best to convince him that one way or another Belagri would be found out as the culprit and that might finish the company.”
“But,” said Tom, “he couldn’t be stopped?”
“No,” Crystal said, “he was absolutely sure he could pull it off. I talked about his plan with Winch and Parker. They agreed with me, but we were powerless to stop him. We either had to resign from the company or play along with him, hoping we’d have some luck in persuading him not to destroy Nairobi. That’s where things stood when your colleagues Doc Brown and Eric Bowen were killed in the Roman Forum. Naturally, as funders of Doc’s excavation, we read about the deaths with sadness and special interest. All we knew, at first, was that there had been the tragic collapse of an underground passageway.”
“In other words, what was reported in the press.”
“Exactly, but, within a day, Belagri, which has ‘friends’ in many high places, including in Italy, got wind that something much more serious had happened. Something so important that the Italian government had blocked all mention of the details of the accident and created a cover story to keep the real details private.”
“Of course,” said Tom, “the Italian government and all its ministries leak like a sieve.”
Crystal continued. “We began to understand that other groups, even foreign governments, were figuring out something was going on. That’s when Bailitz really began to follow every development.
“Bailitz was brilliant—a trait that made him the leader he was. It was he who understood that when Pulesi’s group was called to the scene of the accident, and when the bodies were cremated—these pointed to a dangerous virus as the culprit. That was a clever deduction, but the brilliant part was his spotting the Vatican connection. He knew that Propaganda Fidei had stumbled years earlier into the possession of Imhotep’s canopic jars. And Bailitz remembered Darby Smith’s recent publicity of the wall painting in Imhotep’s tomb. It was like an incredible game of chess, where Bailitz saw all the pieces on the board and knew what to do.”