‘Sounds unbalanced to me.’
‘Yeah, funny how some people can use their intelligence to find the most complicated route up their own ass.’
They sat for a while longer in silence, the sun on their faces, holding hands as they looked out over the frozen pond, the tall reeds in its grip, ivy strangling one of the white oaks on the bank. Dead leaves, edged in white, had settled in drifts over the lawn.
‘More coffee?’
‘Better go.’
‘Did he tell you what happened with Seema and that guy Michael?’
‘No, not really. Funny thing was, it was just the same as that lunch with Seema. Soon as I mentioned the reunion he changed the subject.’
Caroline began collecting up the breakfast things. ‘So you think something happened no one wants to talk about?’
‘Dunno. Thing is, he also acted more than a tad strange when I said something about not being able to get home the other night on account of the bomb scare.’
‘Was he there?’
‘Not as far as I know. And then, when I mentioned about whatever it was being taken to the CDC instead of being blown up or whatever, I swear to God he went pale. Like he’d had some kind of a narrow escape.’
‘New York’s probably got him wired. Must be a shock after living in an Oxford college all your life.’
‘Yeah, Oxford it’s not.’
‘Anyway, good thing for you that Grand Central thing was on the news or I might not have believed you spent the night at your own dear brother’s.’
‘Thanks for that.’
‘Go to work.’
40 | The words he knew by heart
Tradition as well as tranquillity lay behind the choice of Mohonk Mountain House for the first Presidential retreat of the new administration. The hotel, built in the nineteenth century by the Quaker twins Albert and Alfred Smiley, had in its time welcomed Presidents Theodore Roosevelt, William Howard Taft and Rutherford B Hayes. Come the turn of the twentieth century it had held conferences on the living standards of Native Americans and the possibilities for international arbitration of conflict. Run by the descendants of the Smiley twins, the two-hundred-room wood-and-granite hotel still prided itself on making a contribution to public life.
The resort had not been closed to the public. All entrance roads were guarded and the two-thousand-acre estate was regularly patrolled, but a few vacationers were still to be seen ice-skating out on the lake, sitting out on the glassed-in decks with blankets around their knees or reading in armchairs by the great open fireplaces. The President and his staff, with perhaps a half a dozen Cabinet members and advisers, had taken over only the twenty-eight-room central tower block, along with its separate lounge and meeting rooms.
Becket Bradie, reading a newspaper by the fire in a corner of the main lobby, looked up to see Michael Lowell getting out of a station wagon that had come to a halt under the massive pine-built loggia. When the two had shaken hands, he led the way through the parlour to the wooden veranda that curved around the front of the hotel twelve feet above the frozen lake.
Michael lowered his bag to the floor. ‘Okay, Beck, let’s have it. What’s this all about, marines and all?’
Becket glanced back to make sure they were alone. Though the frozen lake was beginning to steam in the strengthening sun, it was still too cold for anyone to be occupying the half dozen rocking chairs. He was about to answer when the door to the parlour swung outwards again and an attractive woman in her mid-thirties wearing jeans and a sweater headed down the veranda towards them, ‘May I take it this is Dr Lowell?’ After being introduced she turned again to Becket Bradie. ‘Unless Dr Lowell would like to freshen up first, I think we should begin straight away.’
Becket held up a forestalling hand. ‘Toni, Michael just got here and I think I can safely say he hasn’t the faintest idea of what this is all about.’
‘I’m sorry, Dr Lowell hasn’t been briefed?’
‘No, and I should probably tell you right off, Michael, the President is here. That’s the extra security you were asking about.’
Toni Restelle smiled at Michael’s confusion. ‘I’m sorry, Dr Lowell. But, if you don’t mind, we’ll go through and start. We can brief you in there.’
The Chief of Staff led the way back through the warmth of the lobby with its granite fire surrounds and red plush seating, making for an unmarked door. After passing through a second, smaller anteroom, they entered an oak-panelled study where two others were already seated at an antique table. The two half-stood as Toni Restelle made the introductions. ‘Dr Michael Lowell of the World Health Organization, this is US National Security Adviser Warren Taylor … and can I also introduce Bill Marriot, who is representing both the FBI and the CIA today. Becket of course you know.’ She gestured for them all to sit, leaving the head of the table to Warren Taylor and taking the chair on his right. The National Security Adviser gave a nod to her questioning look and she turned to face the little group.
‘Okay. Welcome everybody. And thanks for changing your plans to be with us, Dr Lowell. You’re obviously wondering what this is all about. Best I just give you these. She drew several sheets of paper from a folder and slid them over the table. ‘Pushed through the home mailbox of a senior UN official in New York City on Tuesday night last. These are the only copies. The others have all seen them. Take your time.’
Michael took the sheets and read through the texts he knew almost by heart. The others occupied themselves with murmured conversations or looked round at the Hudson River School paintings and the fading photographs of the hotel’s famous guests.
Michael maintained his expression as his eyes came to rest on Toby’s final paragraph:
… we believe that the demands we make reflect the deep longing of ordinary people everywhere for a world in which children no longer suffer and die in numbers which are beyond the emotional embrace of the individual but which haunt the conscience of mankind.
He made a show of going back over certain points in the text as the others returned their attention to the table, gradually falling silent and looking at him expectantly. He squared the sheets up and placed them in front of him. ‘I take it that whatever was in the locker has been recovered?’
The Chief of Staff looked towards Becket Bradie, inviting him to take up the story. ‘It’s our old friend Harvey, Michael.’
‘It’s been cultured?’
Becket nodded. Michael turned again to face the Chief of Staff. ‘Who else knows about this at this point?’
‘Right question. The five of us in this room, plus the UN guy who took delivery, name of Hughes, Camden Hughes. And of course the President. So seven. If we’re talking our side of the fence. And I’m sure I don’t need to tell you about the need for us to keep it that way.’
‘Any indications where it might have come from?’
‘None.’ Bill Marriot’s tone was defensive.
Michael looked down again at the papers, leaving others to lead. After a few seconds, Toni Restelle crossed to the sideboard and filled a coffee cup from a pewter urn, placing the cup in front of Michael before returning to her seat. ‘I know this is all a bit sudden, Dr Lowell, but we have a couple of hours to set up a range of options for the President. Bill here’s in charge of the search for whoever’s behind this thing. We’ll begin there. Bill?’
Marriot turned to address himself directly to Warren Taylor. ‘Well, first thing is, we’ve been given precisely zip to go on. Stationery all standard office supplies stuff. Typewriter an almost unused Olivetti Lettera 32 portable, of which there are only about a zillion out there. Forensics, we ain’t got diddly. Locker key, envelope, paperwork, all either clean or wiped down with surgical spirit. Envelope sealed with some kind of mineral water, not spittle. Dr Bradie here tells me the container, ampoule, vial, whatever, is also clean. And, according to those who are supposed to know, the thing itself also gives us a big fat zero. I understand there might have been seventy or more labs that the WHO let have
that particular strain, Harvey or whatever dumb name it’s called, in maybe a few dozen countries, some of them dubious. And if you don’t mind my saying so, Dr Lowell, the system for checking and certifying what happened to those stocks looks, shall we say, lax, from where I’m sitting.’
Michael said nothing. With a slight movement of the hand, Toni Restelle managed to convey the irrelevance of this comment to current proceedings. ‘Anything else?’
Marriot continued to address himself to Warren Taylor. ‘We had our analysts go over the text. Broken up into extracts, like I said, so nobody got to see the whole shebang. Some suggestion the writer might be a Brit rather than an American. Quite Latinate apparently, whatever the fuck that means. These guys are all smoke and mirrors anyway.’ He tapped out a cigarette from a pack of Marlboro and rolled it for a moment between his fingers, aware of being in the presence of senior representatives of the health establishment. ‘So where’s that leave us? Well, I have to tell you folks, nine times out of ten it’s human intelligence that breaks these things. Something like this, it usually comes through informants. Everybody out there knows it’s “first squeal, best deal”. And for sure humint’s the only way we ever got anyplace on biological weapons, where what we’re looking for is handily tucked away in bona fide institutions running apparently legit research programmes. And what we’re dealing with here’ – he pointed with the still-unlit cigarette at the papers on the table – ‘probably isn’t all that different. Problem is, humint generally only works with some kind of a reward attached. We’ve put the word out in the usual places. But, without saying what the deal is, our hands are tied. And so far there hasn’t been as much as a whisper on any of the grapevines. And believe me we have quite a vineyard.’ He looked around the table, as if these last words were a challenge, then lit the cigarette with a Zippo lighter. ‘The only leads we got here are where the thing might have come from, and where the drop was made. Even if security at the World Health Organization isn’t all it might be, you still don’t get to pick this kind of thing up at the drug store on the way home. And why the hell the UN guy? Our friend Mr Hughes? Didn’t just pick him out of the Manhattan phone book with a pin either. We’re all over his contacts and his contacts’ contacts and believe me it’s quite a list. Hop and a step from Hughes puts you in three-in-a-bed with the likes of Seale and Carmichael. Throw in a jump and you’ve got Malcolm X in there as well, and quite a few others of the same stripe. Though I got to say there’s nothin’ that specifically connects up with anything like this’ – he waved the cigarette again in the direction of the papers, leaving another wraith of smoke over the table.
Becket Bradie raised a dispersing hand. ‘Well, if you don’t mind my saying so, Mr Marriot, a hop, step and a jump could probably connect any one of us here with anybody from Dick Nixon to Mickey Mouse. Camden’s thinking was that they probably set about finding someone who lived alone in New York City with high-level contacts and a low-level mailbox, and as far as I’m concerned that makes a whole lot more sense.’
Toni Restelle intervened. ‘Clock’s running. Anything else on the search side of things?’
Marriot straightened in his chair and let his gaze travel from Becket Bradie to the others. ‘Yes, there is something else, as a matter of fact. The other fact we gotta throw in the mixer is – you only have to read that stuff to get it, Dr Lowell – this is quite a ways from your typical half-assed, semi-literate terrorist threat. These guys aren’t your usual boil-in-the-bag fanatics. We’re talking guys who know what they’re about. And this vaccines thing they’re so all fired up about isn’t something they got into the day before yesterday. Seems to me our most significant lead is what’s being threatened here. Seems to me this is some guy, or a whole bunch of guys, who’ve been involved in this thing in one way or another for quite a while and have gotten themselves frustrated. They’re not on the same page as the networks we’re looking at – they’re not connected with known terrorist groups, religious fanatics, organized crime syndicates or any other form of low-life that our people are likely to stir up in the mud flats. That’s why the grapevine’s silent as the grave. Suggests to me we’re probably just futzing around with the usual stuff and we might get a whole lot more traction if our medical colleagues here could see their way to setting aside their professional loyalties or whatever and give us something to go on. I’m talking scientists, researchers, health professionals, lab guys, activists, non-profit types, Peace Corps veterans, anybody else in your line of country, gentlemen, who might just take it into their heads to get out of bed one morning and pull a stunt like this.’
Toni Restelle appealed to Becket Bradie with a look and invited the FBI man to finish.
Marriot reached into the centre of the table for the glass ashtray, enjoying his moment. ‘Taking yourself for example, Dr Lowell. You’re here because we’re told you know as much as anyone about the who’s who of this thing, no pun intended. All the labs that held the stocks, all the scientists involved around the world, all the rumours that no doubt come to the ears of your organization, which I understand sits on the banks of Lake Geneva. We’d like to hear your thoughts, Dr Lowell – and I’m talking people, places, any little incidents in the past, any little suspicions you might have had, any little things you might have heard, people you might have had your own private little doubts about.’ He waved the cigarette again at the papers on the table. ‘Anything at all occur to you as you read through that thing? And the same goes for you, Dr Bradie. Seems to me you’re the guys best placed to give us the steer on this. Whoever these guys are, chances are they’re in your world, not mine. All the rest is probably just fucking flies.’
Becket Bradie held the FBI man’s glare. ‘Tell me, Mr Marriot, did your language people pick up the spelling mistake?’
Caught off guard, Marriot could offer only an uncertain frown. Becket let the pause continue for a beat longer than necessary, then reached for the sheets from the table. ‘Diphtheria is missing its first “h”. It’s a mistake a lot of people might make. But not something anyone in “our line of country”, as you put it, would be likely to get wrong.’
Bill Marriot breathed in dismissively through his nose. ‘Okay, so we’re not talking some Ivy League Medical School. Fine. That still leaves us a little scope here. I still say we need to ask you to read that thing again and again until it starts to bubble up names, organizations, connections, anyone who comes to mind for any reason at all. Everyone and anyone you’ve ever heard of who might have … it’s like a homicide … we’re talking motive, means, opportunity. Doesn’t matter if it’s a long shot.’ He raised one arm over his head as if holding up the torch of liberty, the powerful chest pulling at the buttons of his shirt. ‘Feed me your long shots.’
Becket Bradie looked across at his WHO colleague. Michael met his glance then turned again to Marriot. ‘I can give you a list right now of the countries that are rumoured to have hung on to stocks, Mr Marriott – France, North Korea, China, Cuba, India, Iraq, Iran, Israel, Pakistan, Yugoslavia. But if you want a list of people working in global public health who’ve gotten frustrated by the lack of progress then it would probably be quicker to give you a list of those who haven’t.’
‘I don’t find that one little bit helpful, Dr Lowell.’
In response to another look from the Chief of Staff, Becket Bradie raised a hand in conciliation. ‘We’ll do as you ask, Mr Marriot. But I should tell you Michael here hasn’t known anyone who can’t spell diphtheria since he was in grade school.’
Toni Restelle glanced again at the half grandfather clock standing in the corner of the room. ‘Warren, do you want to say anything at this point?’
The National Security Adviser shook his head, making it clear he was happy for the Chief of Staff to continue leading the discussion.
‘Okay. We need to keep in mind that the immediate threat here isn’t the release of the virus. It’s the threat to go public with the fact that persons unknown have the virus in their posses
sion and are making demands of the Government of the United States. You’ve all read this little beauty’ – nodding towards the pages that Becket had returned to the table – ‘and I don’t need to tell you what having this all over the Times or the Post would mean. First thing the President’s going to want to know is how we propose to stop that happening. Seems to me we have to tell him it’s likely to hit the media unless Bill’s people can locate whoever’s behind it, which from what we’ve heard you wouldn’t want to bet the farm on.’
‘Court order wouldn’t keep the wraps on a thing like this.’ It was the first time Warren Taylor had spoken. ‘And, with that in mind, I’d suggest our recommendations have to be based on both threats. First, what do we need to do to get ready for this thing going public? Second, what do we need to do to prepare for the virus itself being released at some point further down the line?’ He turned again to face the Chief of Staff, making it clear he was handing the meeting back to her charge.
‘Okay, gentlemen, following our first meeting in the White House, Wednesday, the President has been briefed as follows.’ She looked up at Becket Bradie and Michael Lowell – ‘Please jump in, gentlemen, if you have any issues.’
‘The President’s first response was, in his own words, “We sure as hell can’t have that all over the goddamn papers”. Second, he expressed quite a strong preference for locating whoever’s behind this’ – a glance at Bill Marriot. ‘That said, the President asked what the medical guys had to say and in particular he wanted to know why we couldn’t just “immunize the hell out of this thing” by restarting vaccination. I informed the President that this was not what was being advised by the CDC and outlined the surveillance and ring immunization approach, as explained to me by Becket here. I also informed the President that most people over the age of eight would likely have some degree of immunity and that an outbreak could probably be contained, possibly without major loss of life – if we were ready, if we acted fast enough, and if we could avoid a panic. I further passed on concerns about the dangers of public panic undermining a controlled response.’
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