The Prague Plot: The Cold War Meets the Jihad (Jeannine Ryan Series Book 3)

by Mosimann, James E.

  Behind him, its path blocked by Jim’s pickup, another truck also waited. Jim did not recognize the driver, but the truck was a member of the “Ford” fraternity. The silver pickup was an F150 with an extended cab.

  When the aide pushed Bill Hamm’s wheelchair out the doorway, Jim was surprised to see a man jump from the F150 and give Bill a warm hug.

  Jim stepped down from his truck and broke in.

  “How are you Bill? And who’s this?”

  Bill stood up straight from the chair.

  “I’m fine, the damn wheelchair is a formality, something about hospital liability. They kept me for observation. Nothing’s wrong. And Jim, this is Jack Cannon. He saved my bacon twice, once at the plant and again back at his home on the mountain. He decked Hrubec at the plant, and when Hrubec and his thug followed us to Bull Run Mountain, Jack shot the thug, the tall one with a mustache.”

  Bill paused.

  “That guy’s enjoying a “dirt nap” thanks to Jack.”

  He added.

  “Otherwise I wouldn’t be here today.”

  Jim Harrigan studied Jack’s eyes. He smiled and put forth his hand. Jack seized it and spoke.

  “It was what any friend would do. If it weren’t for Bill I’d be lame and on crutches.”

  Jim Harrigan was about to reply when another aide pushed a second wheelchair through the automatic doors of the hospital.

  A liberated Jeannine jumped to her feet. After hours of observation she was free.

  There were smiles and hugs all around, but her last and longest was for Bill. He did not let go.

  Jack Cannon turned to Jim Harrigan.

  “Bill’s a lucky guy. It looks like that redhead will take good care of him.”

  “They’re good together.”

  Jim changed the subject.

  “Jack, you can’t go back to the Fire Equipment Company after the way you handled Hrubec and that thug Hermann. You’d better look for another job. Why not law enforcement?”

  Jack’s insides jumped. Me, a cop, is this guy for real?

  He studied Jim’s eyes. Damn, he means it. But give up my salt lick? My venison? He switched the subject back to Jeannine.

  “I’m told the redhead, Ryan, is a ‘brain.’ Is that true?”

  “No doubt about it. Both she and her partner, Aileen Harris, have Ph. D.’s. They work in stats and biology.”

  “What’s Aileen look like?”

  “She’s pretty, a blonde.”

  “Why isn’t she here? I’d like to see for myself if she’s like her partner.”

  “She took her daughter to her aunt in Pennsylvania.”

  “Daughter?”

  “No worry. She’s divorced. Maybe you’ll meet her someday.”

  At this point, Jeannine came towards them. She gave Jack a big smile and a warm two-hand shake.

  “I want to thank you for saving Bill. He’s told me all about you.”

  She grinned.

  “Also, I love venison. I grew up in West Virginia. My dad kept his freezer full too.”

  Jim Harrigan laughed.

  “It’s good you and Bill are both OK. I have to go back to North Carolina now. Mila’s waiting. You guys be careful.”

  He hopped into his truck, waved, and left the patient discharge area.

  Jeannine turned back to Bill and Jack Cannon.

  “I’d better call Mila and let her know Jim will be back on the Banks in time for supper tonight. But I’m famished. Let’s eat lunch. I’ll pick Jack’s brain about Warrenton and the W&C Fire Equipment Company. We can take my car, the blue Fiesta over there by the street.”

  Jack laughed.

  “I don’t ride in dinky death traps. We’ll take my truck. It has an extended cab. Bill, you get in back. Jeannine, sit in front and we’ll talk.”

  Jeannine smiled and hopped into the front seat next to Jack.

  Bill sat in the rear.

  Jeannine stopped smiling.

  “Now, Jack, tell me about the different sorts of tanks you worked on at Warrenton. And all you know about where they were shipped.”

  ***

  In Prague, Karel Moravec was irritated. His forehead was damp, and his armpits were like twin saunas under his elegant personalized shirt. Worse yet, his unease was visible to Fiala who stood before him. Even the massive desk did not hide his discomfort.

  He shouted into the phone.

  “Holub, where are you? Where is Josef? “Why isn’t he with you?”

  “We’re done at Area 1. I’m on my way to Area 2, but Hrubec is on the run. The police are looking for him. Hermann is dead and they arrested Hugo.”

  “What happened?”

  After calling the police on Josef Hrubec, Erik was not about to defend him.

  “Hrubec forgot the mission. He had a personal vendetta against Hamm and his woman. What more do you want me to say?”

  “All right. Where are Ryan and Hamm now?”

  “Our source says they’re at Prince William County Hospital. They will be released today.”

  Karel calmed himself. He must regain control. Fiala had not taken her eyes from him.

  “All right, Erik, forget Hamm and Ryan. Where are you?”

  “I’m close to Area Two now. Yesterday, I finished the loading of the first precursor at Area One. Everything arrived except one step van that broke down.”

  Erik swerved to avoid a truck that had drifted into his lane. He resumed.

  “When I get to Area Two, I’ll check for leaks before we load the second precursor. Any mistake and we’re dead.”

  “Erik, calm yourself. Don’t forget you have the Xolak. You are almost done. Our part of the mission will be complete, and you and I will drink pivo together in Prague. I promise you a good time.”

  Karel winked at Fiala. He was in control once more and Erik was on schedule.

  “Click.”

  Erik sighed. If the police would find Hrubec, then he could relax.

  He thought again. Relax?

  He would be loading the damned binary tanks with nerve gas!

  His hands shook on the wheel.

  ***

  From behind his desk, Karel frowned. He would confirm his superiority. Fiala needed training if she was to replace Ivana.

  “Fiala, I have a task for you. It concerns Vaclav Pokorny, and Xolak.”

  “But Vaclav is dead.”

  “Precisely. The task is simple. Search my files and find out what Vaclav discovered about changes in Xolak, and how he attempted to use that information to betray me.”

  He sensed her insecurity. Good.

  “You will give me an oral report tomorrow. And do not speak of this to anyone.”

  Any sense of weakness that Fiala had perceived in Karel evaporated. She knew he detested failure.

  Nervous, she went to his files and withdrew some papers.

  She left quietly.

  ***

  On the outskirts of Johnstown, Pennsylvania, Aileen Harris sat in Aunt Agatha’s kitchen. The past week had been hectic, but today the house was peaceful. Aileen’s mother and her aunt had taken Mary Catherine to eat at McDonald’s, one with a play area.

  Aileen relished the quiet.

  She opened her laptop to study Vaclav’s files. Jeannine had copied Vaclav’s drive onto the company computer, but Aileen still had his TUFF-‘N’-TINY™ drive. She inserted it into the port and typed the password.

  PetrZelenýjesvobodný.

  She was in.

  Although cold outside, the sun shone into the bright kitchen, and the screen reflected Aileen’s image back at her. She shifted the computer to eliminate the glare.

  Vaclav had worked in the pharmaceutical division of Hus-Kinetika. He had sent Peter Zeleny the critical memo that confirmed Peter’s observations (and Jeannine’s analyses of fake data) for the FDA. And Vaclav had used the crumpled newspaper packing to tell Zeleny the password for the chip with the fabricated data that the conspirators had submitted to the OPCW to prove that the Novichok
-H had been destroyed.

  But something was missing.

  What connection existed between Xolak and the agent Novichok-H?

  Why had Hus-Kinetika persisted in pushing Xolak on the American market?

  Why risk fabricating Xolak data? Why not withdraw the drug, and avoid investigations that could lead to Novichok-H?

  ***

  Aileen rubbed her eyes. She scanned Vaclav’s folders. She was intrigued by one with the name “Plants.” Perhaps it referred to production facilities? She opened it.

  But the “Plants” were not facilities at all, but weeds.

  In one file, Vaclav had listed scholarly articles on members of the “Potato family,” the Solanaceae. One of these, Atropa belladonna, the “Deadly Nightshade,” was widespread in Europe and introduced as a weed in parts of North America. This plant was notorious. The poison that killed Emperor Claudius was thought to be an extract of it Vaclav also had listed another member of the Potato family, Jimson Weed or Datura stramonium. This North American plant had parts and seeds that could be used as hallucinogens.

  Hallucinations? Surely Vaclav was not interested in hallucinations?

  Wait! She paced and murmured to herself.

  “Deadly Nightshade is a source of the drug Atropine and the leaves and stems of Jimson Weed also contain Atropine. But injection with Atropine is used to treat organophosphate poisoning where surplus Acetylcholine binds to receptors on the nerve’s sodium channel so that the nerve cannot fire. Atropine counteracts the Acetylcholine at those receptors so that the nerve can fire.”

  She kept pacing and muttering.

  “And the injected antidote often includes something else, namely a pyridinium oxime, like Obidoxime or Pralidoxime to restore the enzyme cholinesterase by freeing its active site from the poison compound, so that enzyme once again can break down acetylcholine.”

  Bingo!

  Sometime around 2002, Hus-Kinetika must have altered the composition of Xolak by increasing the level of Atropine and adding a pyridinium oxide, thereby changing Xolak into a treatment for nerve gas poisoning.

  The conspirators wanted to protect themselves and their workers from the nerve gas.

  But the altered Xolak had bad side effects and Peter Zeleny had seen them in his patients.”

  Aileen rushed to the phone in the hallway.

  Peter knows Xolak. If it includes these compounds, that confirms that Xolak is an antidote for Novichok-H.

  Hurry up, Peter, answer the damned phone!

  ***

  But Aileen’s call to the clinic in Chicago, was a bust. Dr. Zeleny was not expected. He was at home.

  At first the receptionist refused to give Peter’s number to Aileen, but she identified herself as “Dr.” Harris and stated the urgency of the matter. Finally the receptionist relented.

  When she called Peter’s home number, a woman answered. Aileen spoke.

  “May I talk to Dr. Zeleny?”

  “He’s not on duty today. Call the office and speak to his associate.”

  Aileen recognized her voice.

  “Anne, Anne Simek is that you? It’s Aileen Harris, I need to talk to Peter.”

  There was no response. Aileen thought they had been disconnected, but then heard Anne’s voice in the background.

  “It’s Aileen Harris. She wants to talk to you.”

  Peter came on the line.

  “Aileen. What’s this about?”

  “Peter, it’s Xolak. Tell me what you know about its active ingredients? I think I know why Hus-Kinetika wants it available. It’s an antidote for their nerve gas.”

  Moments later, Peter had confirmed her suspicions. Aileen hung up.

  She needed to call Jeannine.

  ***

  As soon as Peter Zeleny put down the phone, Anne spoke.

  “What did Aileen Harris want?”

  “She thinks Hus-Kinetika has modified Xolak to be an antidote for their nerve gas. I think she’s right.”

  “But this number is unlisted. Why did you give it to her?”

  “She must have gotten it from the clinic.”

  Anne dropped her eyes. Peter took her arm.

  “Anne, will you forget Aileen? I only care about you. I love you. You have to know that. Trust me, and trust me tonight too. I promise to be careful when I talk to your father. Are you OK?”

  “I think so. Please be careful, and I do trust you. It’s all arranged. Father’s expecting you.”

  Anne forgot Aileen. A more important concern was Peter’s visit to her house.

  How would Havel Simek react to the son of his betrayer?

  ***

  Jeannine was enjoying burgers and fries with Bill and Jack Cannon in a diner not far from the hospital, when her phone vibrated.

  It was Aileen in Pennsylvania.

  “Jeannine, I know why Hus-Kinetika cheats to keep Xolak on the U. S. market. Xolak contains Atropine as well as two distinct pyridinium oximes.”

  Jeannine swallowed and cleared her throat.

  “Aileen, please make sense.”

  “Injection with these compounds treats cholinesterase inhibitors.”

  “So?”

  “Don’t you see. Hus-Kinetika can use Xolak to treat Novichok-H poisoning! They’re planning something big with their weapon. They want their people protected. That’s why they kept Xolak on the U. S. market. They need it to ensure that their own crooks feel protected while they work on that damned nerve agent.”

  ***

  ******

  Chapter 44

  Saturday, December 4

  At Area Two, a large farm on Remount Road, south of Front Royal, Virginia, Erik Holub, stood in a field, removed his Hazmat helmet, and surveyed the rows of shiny red tanks before him.

  There were two types, small and large.

  The small tanks were joined in groups of three with straps, evidently intended for the backs of individual “firemen.” One of the three was intended for oxygen, while the other two, connected by a complex valve, were, respectively, for the two precursors of Novichok-H. The first precursor had been loaded at Area One.

  The large tanks posed a separate problem. These bipartite tanks also had been loaded with the first precursor at Area One, but their interior partitions were largely inaccessible, and some had possibly defective welds that needed to be checked for leaks before the second precursor could be loaded.

  Any leak would be lethal.

  ***

  After several hours, Erik, and his technicians, finished their checks for leakage from the first compartment into the second. Only two tanks had defective welds. These were immediately discarded.

  Erik sighed. The moment he dreaded had arrived. He could no longer delay the loading of the second precursor into the remaining empty partitions. Any mistake and the precursors would react to form Novichok-H and death would result.

  He and the technicians donned their Hazmat suits, sealed the helmets, and started to work. Each man had a syringe filled with Xolak nearby. They were ready.

  With great care they checked the special valves on the tanks.

  All were OK.

  Erik signaled to his men and the loading began.

  The first tank was filled without mishap. It sat silent and innocent on its pallet. It would not be moved to the van until the remaining tanks were loaded.

  Erik exhaled in relief. Maybe this will work after all. He thought of the money that awaited him in Prague. It has to work!

  He and his men moved to the next tank, and the following one.

  When the large tanks were loaded with the second precursor, Erik and the technicians turned to the small tanks. Their loading was relatively safe, because the tanks for the two precursors were physically separate. Still, as always, a mistake would be deadly.

  Several step vans drove onto the field and the loading of the small tanks began.

  However the unmarked eighteen-wheel truck remained on the road. It was too heavy for the loose soil of the old field where th
e large tanks waited, strapped to their pallets.

  Near the van, several forklifts waited. Erik signaled the drivers to begin loading.

  A cold wind swept the dry field while the pallets were speared, lifted, and driven to the van, deposited on rollers inside, and pushed to a stable resting place.

  The wind in the open field was cold, but drops of perspiration beaded Erik’s forehead. He wiped his brow. So far so good!

  That thought was premature.

  At that moment, one spear of a fork lift missed its slot. The driver did not notice. As he elevated the tank, it tilted, rolled off and crashed to the ground, valve first.

  The valve opened and emitted a dark mist.

  Either in a last selfless act, or in a vain effort to conceal his mistake, the driver of the fork lift jumped off and squeezed the valve closed.

  Then he fell writhing to the ground as saliva foamed about his lips. Fluid drained from his eyes across purple cheeks. What appeared to be urine stained his jeans, and his chest froze. A series of awful wheezes failed to expand his paralyzed diaphragm. Starved of oxygen, his brain lost all function. His head fell back, with eyes rolled upwards. After some tetanus, all motion ceased.

  A technician in a Hazmat suit rushed to the stricken man, a Xolak syringe ready, but Erik waved him away.

  The man was dead. There was nothing to do.

  The final loading continued in a somber mood.

  ***

  In Dethorens, Virginia, Masoud was not proud, nor over-confident, but grateful. In his bedroom, an arrow on the floor pointed towards the location of the Kaaba in Mecca. He placed his prayer mat on the floor and oriented it in that direction. His prayers were personal Duas.

  He prayed from the Quran (2:250) for endurance and for help against those who reject faith.

  Surely, the enemy had rejected the true faith!

  He prayed that he not be tested beyond his strength (Dua 2:286), and asked for forgiveness, mercy, protection, as well as for assistance in dealing with deniers of the truth.