Twelve hours later Montgomery and Ed Small met. ‘Sorry I was so tough on you,’ the CIA agent said, ‘but we’re closing in on your friend Haberman.’ They sat in the Starlifter C-141A in an isolated part of Tel Nof Airbase, close to the city of Rehovot, about a thirty-minute drive from Tel Aviv.
‘I admit that it upset me.’
‘How did your wife take it?’ Ed Small asked.
‘Not good. She’s still not speaking to me.’
‘You told her nothing?’
‘She had something to say about it. I’ve no idea what she’s thinking. Maybe she thinks I’ve run off with some fancy woman.’
‘I’ve had a couple, wives. They’re all the same.’
‘What do you need me for? I don’t see how I can help.’
‘Assuming they find the virus, how do they handle it? What does it look like? So far, we’ve been looking for Haberman, or whatever his name is. We need to also focus on finding the virus, and neutralising it.’
‘It may be best if I give a presentation to all the people involved.’
‘I’ve some colleagues, Steve, Harry, and Charles coming in from Kabul later tonight. Tomorrow will be okay. I would have liked two others, Phil and Yanny, to be present, but they’re hopefully closing in on your friend. I can’t afford to bring them back at this time. Maybe the day after you can fly up and meet with them.’
‘I don’t think he’s my friend anymore, do you?’
‘I reckon so. At the present moment, you’re carrying the can for being trusting and idealistic.’
Where are the two you just mentioned?’ Paul Montgomery preferred not to dwell on the consequences of his actions.
‘Amman, Jordan.’
Chapter 6
Paul Montgomery’s opening statement at the presentation he had hastily put together brought the current situation into perspective. ‘Smallpox killed over three hundred million people last century, more than all the wars in history combined.’
Uri Weizman was there, now fully briefed as to the urgency of finding Sam Haberman. The Prime Minister of Israel had phoned him, just as Steve said. Now, he had complete discretion and authority on how to assist Steve and his team, much to the chagrin of his colleagues at Mossad. They knew something was going on, but felt they had been left out of the loop.
They were sniffing around until they received a clear directive from the Head of Mossad: back-off or you’ll be in jail for at least five years and no trial. They backed off, they seethed, and they made their displeasure to Uri known by given him the cold shoulder every time he entered the headquarters building.
‘So, why smallpox and why so deadly?’ Steve asked. ‘Aren’t there other viruses more suitable as a bioweapon?’ He had taken the lead role for the operation based in the Middle East. Ed Small had returned back at short notice to the States to follow up on some leads there.
‘That is three questions. Let me deal with the first one.’
His wife was talking to him again. She had seen the Israeli dialling code the last time he had phoned and reasoned that it was as secret as he had said. He wouldn’t have been going out to the Middle East for a woman.
She was half jealous of his personal assistant at CDC, a svelte dark woman in her mid-thirties with the unusual, outdated name of Delores. His wife had phoned his office checking on him, and the attractive woman of Jamaican-Chinese heritage had answered the phone. If it were a skirt he was chasing, it would have been her, and she was still in town.
‘Smallpox is airborne.’ Montgomery pleased to have an attentive audience and hopeful in that there may be some redemption for him, at least from a prison term. ‘It is easily spread. Other viruses such as HIV and the bubonic plague – or the Black Death, as it is known – need some agent to transmit. HIV, as you know, is spread by unsafe sex practices, blood transfusions. The Bubonic plague is spread by fleas carried on the bodies of rats. With influenza, the flu is also airborne, but fatalities are rare. It needs the complication of pneumonia.’
‘We’ve looked into smallpox at Mossad,’ said Uri. ‘We’re well aware of its possibilities as a bioweapon. There are two problems, it is indiscriminate in who it affects and the death rate is not total.’
‘One of those problems has now been solved,’ replied Montgomery.
‘What do you mean? Does that explain the annihilation of the village in Afghanistan?’ Steve asked.
‘Yes, the virus used there had been genetically engineered. It has a fatality rate of one hundred percent. If you are infected, you will die.’
‘And the other problem?’ Uri asked.
‘It is indiscriminate,’ replied Montgomery. ‘It will attack everyone – Arab, Muslim, Israeli, Jewish or otherwise. There are some who may argue that one race or one religion is superior to another, but let me assure you, this virus sees no such distinction.’
‘So, they won’t use it in Israel?’ Uri was anxious to ascertain that his country was safe.
‘I would regard that as a false assumption.’
‘Why?’ Uri looked for an explanation.
‘Assume that ten people were infected. They would not be contagious for eleven to twelve days. On the twelfth day, they affect another six to twenty. Six is about the average statistically, then that means seventy people will die.’
‘Then the numbers are not excessively high,’ Uri said.
‘After the additional sixty are infected, how will you know that you have contained the disease?’ Montgomery had posed a rhetorical question. ‘You don’t. So, in another twelve to fourteen days, that sixty will have affected three hundred and sixty. The numbers rise exponentially.’
‘Then we isolate them,’ Steve said.
‘Correct, that’s what you do. You can’t heal the infected. You can only attempt to stop the new infections.’
‘That’s what we do then,’ Uri said.
‘You have the solution.’ Montgomery saw the flaw in Uri’s statement. ‘But, what if one hundred people were initially affected? At the second generation infection, you have over four thousand people who will die, apart from those who have left the region, flown on commercial jets and had the virus transmitted through the aircraft cabin. Then there is the added complication of a new region, a new city, a new country and no one will have a clue where they are.’
‘Are you saying that once it is released, it can’t be stopped?’ Charles asked.
‘Yes, that is precisely what I am saying. It’s only possible by draconian methods: halting of all international and local transport, confining people to their houses and introducing martial law. Violators would have to be summarily executed, industry would fail, the world would come to a standstill.’
‘You’ll never stop people moving around.’ Harry unable to understand how anyone could have given an order for its development knew the world would not act in the way Montgomery had put forward.
‘That is evident,’ agreed Montgomery. ‘Infect a big city in America and it will be decimated within months. Infect the developing countries, and the question of human overpopulation becomes theoretical.’
‘Infect a small community in Israel and the country would be wiped off the map,’ Uri added.
‘And most of Palestine, Jordan, Lebanon, and Syria.’ Montgomery extrapolated.
‘So, Israel is safe?’ Uri asked.
‘I’m not sure that it is.’
‘Explain that statement.’ Uri assumed that an Islamic fundamentalist group would not risk the potential deaths of millions of fellow Muslims.
‘If you know where the infection is, you – or Israel – can put in measures to stop its transmission.’
‘But how would we know?’ asked Uri.
‘It would only be those who control the virus who could tell you.’
‘We would be held hostage to their demands.’
‘What about a vaccine?’ Harry asked. ‘Can’t we just vaccinate everybody against smallpox?’
‘Smallpox, maybe in time, but this is genetically
engineered,’ replied Montgomery.
‘There is no vaccine?’ Harry asked.
Montgomery was ashamed to admit his failure. ‘The virus is easy to produce. It was Sam Haberman who ostensibly went to England to attempt a find a vaccine.’
‘And he has the virus now. Was he the person who used it in Afghanistan?’ Uri asked.
‘I can offer no defence. I, along with Haberman, was heading up the team that developed the virus. I can only say that we were working with an executive order, a directive by the President to produce it. As to whether it was him or another person who used it in Afghanistan, I cannot say.’
‘Is there no hope for a vaccine?’ Harry continued to ask the obvious question.
‘We believed that with further research, it may have been possible. But it would be years away and, even then, it would be of limited effectiveness.’
‘Why limited?’ Steve asked.
‘It is the fundamental characteristic of a virus, they mutate. Slowly in the case of smallpox, but it still mutates. If we produce a vaccine, six months later, it may prove to be ineffective. HIV cannot be stopped, only slowed for the same reason.’
Montgomery, anxious to direct the discussion away from the vaccine continued. ‘Australia occasionally suffers a mouse plague in the farming areas of Australia. It’s caused by a combination of weather and harvests that allows them to breed to uncontrollable levels. In an attempt to control, the Australian government scientific research centre, CSIRO, came up with a potential solution to dramatically reduce the numbers. They took the mousepox virus – it’s similar to smallpox, but not deadly – and modified it with a protein called IL-4. This protein affects the immune response system of the body. The idea was that it would stimulate antibodies against the female’s eggs, a form of contraception. Contrary to expectation, the mouse’s immune system was not improved ‒ it was switched off. A minor infection of mousepox killed all the mice.’
‘Why smallpox?’ Steve asked.
‘The Internet is inundated with speculation that a similar treatment with smallpox would give the same result. The ultimate bioweapon it’s been called.’
‘Why not leave it alone?’ Uri asked.
‘The scientific results are out in the public media,’ said Montgomery. ‘Terrorists can read them as well as scientists. They would have no hesitancy to use a bioweapon, especially in America.’
‘Can they make a bioweapon?’ Uri asked.
‘There is a significant number of disillusioned Muslims in the West who have had the benefit of a university education, and the genetic splicing of a virus with IL-4 is neither complicated nor difficult.’
So, why do we do it first?’ asked Steve.
‘Smallpox with IL-4 – and remember, there is a human IL-4 protein, and it is species specific. Someone else would have developed it, and we would have no defence.’
‘Then we develop first and then figure out how to prevent its spread?’ said Steve.
‘Precisely, that was the reasoning. But, as we all know, there is no vaccine.’
‘So we’ve done the work for the terrorists and given it to them on a plate.’
‘Yes, that sums it up.’ Paul Montgomery looked uncomfortable. ‘Sam Haberman was our last hope of finding a vaccine, and now we know he was not who he seemed to be.’
***
The flight, the next day to Amman, was both pleasant and comfortable. After the presentation of yesterday, when he had to admit his part, or at least, unwilling part in the release of the virus, Paul Montgomery was hopeful of a friendlier reception in Jordan. A visa purchased on arrival – it was good that Uri had given him sufficient Jordanian dinars – and he passed through immigration with little trouble. The Royal Jordanian flight, a Brazilian-built Embraer 175, took only forty-five minutes. It was one of the few airlines in the region that flew into Israel.
‘How was the trip?’ Yanny asked as they sat in a café outside her hotel.
‘Fine,’ replied Montgomery. ‘The flight was good. I managed to get one of the grey and yellow taxis. The driver was constantly asking when I was going back to the airport and could he take me.’
‘It’s an old trick of theirs. There’s a fixed rate to bring you into town, but going back they can charge what they want.’
‘Have you found Sam? Or should I say, Haberman? You know he was a good friend of mine?’
‘I know. We’ve all been deceived and disappointed by people in our lives.’ Yanny sympathised with him. To her, Paul Montgomery seemed a nice man, genuine in his belief that what he’d been doing had been right, but placing his trust in the wrong person. She had not been deceived, although certainly disappointed in her life. There had been the handsome Major Baumgartner, who had been killed by a road bomb in Afghanistan. Then there was Steve Case, her former boss and now colleague who had gone and married an Australian. She had loved both men, still loved Steve, but neither was available.
‘When will we meet with Phil?’ Montgomery had been told Yanny was a knockout, and they were right. Delores in his office back at CDC was delectable, and she was always making flirtatious remarks, suggestive comments. He thought that one day he may take her up on it, but Yanny was in a different league altogether.
‘I will arrange for you to meet him. It is best if I maintain my distance, standard security procedure. It’s probably a little melodramatic, but if one of our covers is blown, then at least the other remains hidden.’
‘Have you had any luck with locating the virus?’
‘No, we’re not sure what we should be looking for.’
‘Initially, it would have been no more than a small glass vial suitably enclosed in a container for transportation.’
‘What would it look like now?’ she asked.
‘A small vial is purely a sample for testing purposes. It would be necessary to grow additional virus for vaccine research, or for use as a bioweapon.’
‘How would you do that?’
‘Yet again, none of this is difficult, although you would need a laboratory with suitable equipment and skilled personnel.’
‘Could that be done in this country?’ she asked.
‘I don’t see why not. It’s always possible to grow the virus in embryonic chicken eggs, in the amniotic sac, but that would take thousands of eggs. I’d discount that option.’
‘That sounds awful.’
‘Not really. It was the standard method up until recent times.’
‘We’re looking for Haberman as well as a laboratory?’ she asked.
‘Have you found him? You never answered the question.’
‘We have an address, but we’ve not seen him yet. Phil’s staking out the location.’
***
Ismail Hafeez’s residence was located in the suburb of Jabal Amman to the west of the city. One of the older neighbourhoods, it still maintained an old world charm. The house was a substantial structure, three storeys high and in reasonable condition. It could have done with a fresh coat of paint, yet it still managed to portray the appearance of a successful businessman, which is what Hafeez had become.
Arriving virtually penniless, he had turned his entrepreneurial skills to good use. The West Bank, one of the two Palestinian homelands, needed supplies, food and vegetables, cars and car parts. Whatever it needed, he provided. The name of Hafeez had become a byword in the West Bank, and his company had prospered. At least forty trucks a day would cross the border with his name emblazoned across the side of the vehicle.
He had tried emulating his success in his place of birth, the Gaza Strip, but the Israeli blockades were impossible to break. The Egyptians, who controlled the only open border crossing, determined to drive him bankrupt with their ever-increasing bribes. He intended to free his people there with whatever means he had at his disposal.
He had due to his wealth become the primary benefactor of an extended family in Gaza. Their plight was dreadful, their prospects for the future abysmal, and he was a part of a plan to resolve the issu
e of Palestine once and for all. A moderate Muslim, he did not consider himself extreme. He had even met some Jews, some he had done business with, and they were fine. Their religion, he did not understand, but they had always come across as people like him, just trying to make their way in life and to look after their families the best they could.
‘Yes, that’s him. Where did you take the photo?’ Montgomery had finally met up with Phil at a small hotel out near the airport.
‘I saw him exiting Hafeez’s house in the back of a Mercedes,’ Phil replied. ‘I got a name for him off one of the guards at the entrance to the compound, Samir Habash. Have you heard the name before?’
‘It means nothing to me.’
Two hours later Montgomery was back at the airport boarding a flight back to Tel Aviv. He had briefed Phil sufficiently well as to what to look for. Phil was anxious to follow up on Samir Habash’s movements now that he was out in public again. The laconic Australian took the opportunity to phone Yanny as he crawled along in the traffic heading back into town.
‘He’s been seen at a few places around town. He appears to like the Western life. There are a few bars he seems to frequent. I don’t know what he’s been doing for the last few days, but he’s out and about now.’
‘Did Paul Montgomery give you all you need to know?’
‘I know what we’re looking for. If we find it, he can come back and deal with it. It’s much too dangerous for us to be messing with.’
‘Where is he now?’
‘I put him on a plane to Tel Aviv,’ said Phil. ‘He’ll soon be back with Steve and Harry.’
‘Good. Maybe I should get to know Samir Habash.’
‘That sounds like a dangerous move.’
‘I know, but what alternative is there? We can’t afford to fail here.’
‘You need a cover story.’
‘I’ve been assigned a position at the German Jordanian University in Mushagar. It’s about twenty kilometres south-west of the city.’
‘How did you arrange that?’
‘I spoke to Ed Small a few days back. I thought it may be needed. He phoned the head of the CIA, who called the chief of German Federal Intelligence, the Bundesnachrichtendienst. Who he spoke to after that I don’t know, but I received an official letter stating my acceptance to the faculty yesterday.’
Terrorist: Three Book Boxed Set Page 8