Fletcher nodded. “I have permission from the Israelis to have our scientists verify their findings. But it has to be done at their facility.”
Cranston thought for a moment. “I want you to track down Professor John Carlson. He’s a friend of mine who’s in the country on sabbatical from Harvard. I believe he’s lecturing at the Weizmann Institute. Ask him to help out as a favor to the State Department. John is an expert on biological warfare and has top security clearances. If he substantiates the claims of the Israelis, then I’ll fly to Washington tonight and take this matter up directly with the President.
“Regarding Libya, just get that man out of there. I don’t care how you do. Unfortunately, Libya is not under my jurisdiction and I can’t promise any assistance. You’re better off working with the Israelis and thereby avoiding our own protocols. I’m going to take responsibility and authorize your full participation in any and all Israeli actions.”
Fletcher was surprised. Cranston was taking a big risk allowing him to operate outside the borders of Israel. As Fletcher left the Ambassador’s villa, he wondered whether Cranston was building political capital for his own future ambitions or simply acting out of concern for the welfare of the United States and the world. He preferred to think it was the latter.
21
The next morning, June 23rd, at 9:00 a.m., a top-secret meeting was held in the Oval Office of the White House. The goal of the meeting was to decide whether the United States should act on the information provided by Ronald Fletcher. In attendance were the President of the United States, Ambassador Cranston, Professor Carlson, the Secretaries of State and Defense, the Director of the CIA, and the Presidential Advisor on Military Affairs, former Chief of Staff General George Smith.
The previous evening, Ambassador Cranston and Professor Carlson had flown to Washington D.C. on the only plane available for immediate transit, a Boeing 747. The flight for the two lone passengers cost the United States Government almost a quarter of a million dollars. Upon hearing this, the Secretary of State had a fit. He threatened to fire Cranston or, even worse, transfer him to the Ambassadorship of Nauru. Cranston responded that he would simply resign and turn over the information to the Secretary of Defense. Not wanting to lose face if the intelligence turned out to be critical, the Secretary of State relented. With a few hours a meeting was arranged with the President and senior members of the National Security Council.
The President opened up the conference.
“The Secretary of State has briefed me on a problem of the greatest urgency. I want everyone to listen carefully so we can come up with a strategy to thwart what appears to be a very real and imminent threat to the United States. Let’s start with our Ambassador to Israel.”
Cranston spoke slowly. “Mr. President, evidence has come to my attention by way of embassy liaison Ronald Fletcher that quick action is necessary to avoid a catastrophe of unparalleled destruction to our country as well as the rest of the world.”
“Professor Carlson,” the Secretary of State interrupted, “Please tell the President about the biological agent shown to you by the Israelis.”
“Well, it’s quite involved,” Carlson said.
“Take all the time you need.”
“Yesterday, in the late afternoon, Ronald Fletcher approached me with an urgent request from Ambassador Cranston to look over some evidence of a biological nature. Of course I agreed. We travelled to a rendezvous point in the Dead Sea region and were transferred by means of a helicopter with blacked-out windows to a top-secret Israeli laboratory at an unknown location. From the helicopter we were transported by van to a large, underground complex.
“In the complex there was a large laboratory that was sealed off due to contamination. Outside of this laboratory was a smaller makeshift lab that was set up in order to access the contaminated one.
“We were greeted by five scientists, Israel’s top experts in the field of biological warfare. Two are members of the faculty of the Weizmann Institute of Science, where I’m on sabbatical. They briefed me on the background of the organic material and the accidental contamination of the lab.
“I then reviewed all the physical evidence and notes. What was discovered is that the cylinders contained a previously unknown prion.”
“A what?” asked the Director of the CIA.
“A prion. A protein, one of the building blocks of cellular material, that is misfolded in such a way that when it meets another similar protein it bends it until it is misfolded in the same way. Then the two proteins go out and do the same to other proteins until the tissue is completely destroyed. This is the origin of some rare diseases such as Kuru among cannibals in Papua New Guinea, as well as mad cow disease and its human equivalent, Creutzfeldt–Jakob disease.
“What makes this prion different is that it contains a region that induces cell surface proteins to rapidly incorporate it into the cell, as if it were invited. The victims die without warning and their bodies turn rapidly into a fine, gray, dust-like material. Not only that, it is of very low molecular weight and spreads quickly through the environment with just a small amount of force, such as that which is produced when the cylinder opens. Because it interacts with proteins that exist only in humans, it has no effect on animal or plant life.
“The cylinder in which it was held contains an unusual soil bacteria that stabilizes the prions. When the prions are removed from this bacteria, they only last about twenty-four hours before they naturally break down. In fact, just a day after the original contamination, the Israeli scientists were able to reenter the contaminated area without any special precautions.
“I have concluded that this prion is a danger to the very survival of mankind.”
”Is there way of fighting it? Perhaps can a vaccine be made?” asked General Smith.
“As a protein, it is not affected by any known antibiotics or anti-viral agents. In any case, its method of lethality is too rapid to allow such an approach. Nor would a vaccine be effective, as the protein targeted is ubiquitous in all humans.
“If it were to be targeted prior to release, the only method of destroying it is heating to approximately one million degrees Kelvin. That is nearly 1.8 million degrees Fahrenheit.”
“I only know of one weapon that creates that kind of heat, a nuclear bomb. Are you saying that to destroy this ‘prion’ we would have to explode a nuclear bomb?” said General Smith.
“Well, the heat produced by a nuclear bomb would definitely produce sufficient heat to kill the prion,” answered Professor Carlson.
At this point, the Secretary of State rose to his feet. “This discussion is pure madness! We have confirmed so far that at least ninety-two countries have gotten the same letters. Within those countries, we haven’t a clue where the cylinders are! We’re not going to start dropping nuclear bombs randomly!”
“Hold on, no one is dropping any bombs yet,” interjected the President.
“How is this agent released from the cylinder?” asked the CIA Director.
“By means of a coded radio signal. There does not seem to be a way to neutralize the mechanism without releasing the contents of the cylinder,” said Carlson.
“Well, if we could locate the transmitter, we could stop it from being released,” said the CIA Director.
The Secretary of Defense spoke up. “We don’t know who is responsible or where they are. But in any case, we can’t leave those cylinders around. What if one somehow broke open by natural causes?”
Professor Carlson responded, “The cylinders are extremely well constructed and resistant to changes in temperature and moisture, and even capable of sustaining enormous physical forces. They should remain intact for an indefinite period of time, hundreds if not thousands of years.”
“We still can’t leave those cylinders around. Anyone who attempts to investigate them could end up opening a Pandora’s box,” the Secretary of Defense protested.
“I suppose you prefer bombing the world out of existence to solv
e the problem,” said the CIA Director.
General Smith, noticing the friction, decided that it was best to change the course of the discussion. “Surely those responsible have records of the locations of the cylinders at their base of operations. We must target them.”
“But we have no idea where this base is located!” pointed out the CIA Director.
Now it was Ambassador Cranston’s turn. “Right now, under my authority, Ronald Fletcher is working with the Israelis on a possible lead. He is convinced the alleged spy that is scheduled to be executed by the Libyans tomorrow is connected to the cylinders. And the Mossad agrees.”
The President responded with some confusion. “Just last week I spoke to the Prime Minister of Israel, who called for help on the matter. He said they had really had no idea who that man is!”
“Mr. President,” Cranston interrupted. “Ronald Fletcher has been on my staff for over two years. I have yet to meet a man as capable as him. My instincts tell me if he feels strongly that this man in Libya is the key to breaking the case, I back his conclusion one hundred percent.”
“Let’s suppose Fletcher is correct,” the Secretary of State said in a condescending tone, “How can we interview a man who is in prison in a country ruled by a lunatic and about to be executed? It’s not like we can send a diplomatic request by cable!”
The Ambassador responded with a sneer, “I have already given Fletcher permission to work with the Israelis to free this man by any means necessary.”
The Secretary of State shot a cold stare at Cranston for not consulting him, while the CIA Director prepared to protest the blatant infringement of protocol. But the President beat them to the punch. “Good work, Cranston. Finally, a man with initiative!”
Then he turned to General Smith. “O.K. George, enough talk. How do we get out of this mess in one piece?”
General Smith sat silent for a moment, preparing his response. He then stood up. “I feel that our chances for success are based on eliminating three factors. First, the conspirators. Second, the transmitter. Third, the lab and storage facility where this biological weapon was produced. I assume all three are located in Libya. We must act decisively and remove all three factors before the deadline noted in the letters.”
Ambassador Cranston opened a folder and removed two photographs, along with a report prepared by Rachel Bronot. He handed them to the President.
Scrutinizing the photographs, the President asked, “What are these?”
Cranston explained, “These photographs were obtained by Ronald Fletcher. The first depicts a meeting between four men. The three men, Germans, hired the fourth man, Ali Rajad, an international terrorist, to smuggle three cylinders containing the deadly agent into Israel. The other photograph is of the man to be executed tomorrow in Libya.”
The President commented, “Funny. The Germans and the condemned man look so, well, white!”
Cranston said, “The report you hold in your hand discusses that very phenomenon. We have consulted with physicians who believe that all four men have not been exposed to sunlight for a very long time. The report also discusses a theory conceived by Rachel Bronot, head of an Israeli anti-terrorist organization. She has suggested they may have come from an underground facility within walking distance from the place where the condemned man was apprehended by the Libyan army. That would be somewhere under the Sahara Desert.”
“If she is correct, a small nuclear device exploded in the Sahara would be much more acceptable than blowing up Tripoli,” said the Secretary of State.
“Indeed. If the base is located underground, there would only be negligible radioactive fallout,” commented Professor Carlson.
George, how would we handle it militarily?” the President asked.
“I suggest we have one of our portable nuclear devices, a backpack-sized one, sent to the Sixth Fleet in the Mediterranean Sea. The fleet is currently on NATO maneuvers off the coast of Algeria, and could be at the Gulf of Sirte within 24 hours. One of the Iwo Jima-class amphibious assault ships participating is a company of Black Berets. They are the Navy’s best commandos and are well-versed in this kind of operation.”
The Secretary of Defense then spoke up. “I suggest we invite the Israelis to participate.”
“Why?” the President asked.
“First of all, they are not going to fully depend on us to handle this alone when their very existence is at stake. They’ll probably try to run their own operation.”
“Why not let the Israelis do whatever they want? It might be a good failsafe in case something goes wrong with our operation. The Prime Minister of Israel seems fairly oblivious to world opinion when his country’s welfare is at stake in any case,” the President remarked.
“That’s quite true, Sir,” said the Secretary of State. “But I must point out that a major Israeli operation on Libyan soil may have its own consequences. Libya might be pushed to call in the Soviets, and I think we would all agree it’s better that they’re not given an opportunity to get their hands on one of the cylinders. Moreover, the Islamic world might not take an operation by the Israelis sitting down. They could use it as an excuse for launching a new Jihad.”
All eyes fell on the President. His decision would affect the fate of mankind. The President closed his eyes and thought for a moment before he spoke. “I’m ordering a joint operation with the Israelis. What do we name it?”
“Since the conspirators signed their letter ‘Adolf Hitler,’ perhaps we should call it Operation Nemesis,” said General Smith.
“That’s fitting. From this moment, I want all of you to coordinate your work on Operation Nemesis. None of you are to leave the operation center until we successfully thwart the danger or, God forbid...” he trailed off. “I don’t even want to think of the other possibility. Meeting closed.”
22
As the meeting in the White House was wrapping up, Ronald Fletcher and Rachel Bronot boarded SAS flight 487 from Copenhagen, Denmark to Tripoli. Both were using British passports, and presented themselves as vacationing couple excited to explore Tripoli’s famous antiquities bazaar. After passing through customs at Idris Field, Ron hailed a taxi to their hotel near the Medina, Tripoli’s historic district. What they did not know was that a man who had recently arrived with a forged Italian passport was following their cab in a rented BMW. That man was Phillip Hearns.
Fletcher and Bronot checked into the two-star, inappropriately named Castle Garden Hotel which was located a few hundred yards away from the gate known as Bab Al-Bahr. The hotel was a two-story walk-up. They registered at the small desk at the bottom of the stairway under the names printed on their passports, Mr. Richard and Lisa Nelson. Bronot noticed the clerk was a bit nervous when he handed Fletcher the key to their room. Her sixth sense was ringing five-alarm bells. She was right to be nervous, as Hearns had been investing all new bookings of Tripoli hotels from foreigners for the past few days. Just a few hours earlier, he had given the clerk three one-hundred-dollar bills to ensure that the Nelson party would be given suite 204.
The porter, a bent-over gentleman at least seventy years old, was barely able to carry their two pieces of luggage to the second floor. Fletcher asked him repeatedly if he needed any help, but the porter stubbornly refused. Opening the creaky door, they saw a sparsely furnished room with a worn carpet, aging king-sized bed, and rusty light fixtures. Ron tipped the grateful porter and walked over to the large open window facing the city wall, gazing at the traffic.
At that moment, Phillip Hearns was kneeling on the ramparts of the old city wall directly opposite the Castle Garden Hotel. He held the Soviet-made Dragunov sniper rifle in his hands and lined up the crosshairs of the PSO-1 scope with the center of Fletcher’s chest. Hearns was calm. As he began to pull the trigger, he thought to himself, “It’s so easy to kill a man. Even a dangerous man like Fletcher can eliminated without much difficulty.”
Bronot suddenly shouted, “Ron, hit the floor!”
Fletcher reacted
instantly and dropped to the ground. His ability to react on a dime had been fine-tuned in Vietnam.
At the exact same time, Hearns squeezed the trigger, releasing the bullet. Seeing Fletcher fall, he was perplexed. Hearns asked himself, “Did I hit him, or did he fall on his own?” The timing seemed a hairsbreadth off. Hearns picked up a pair of binoculars to check.
The bullet had pierced the wall above the headboard of the bed, Both Bronot and Fletcher lay flat on the floor.
“How did you know?” Fletcher asked.
“Just call it women’s intuition,” Bronot answered.
Bronot’s experience as the chief of security for the Prime Minister had served them well. She had been perturbed from the moment they checked in. The desk clerk looked like a man who just taken a risky bribe. Bronot was familiar with this look as she herself had bribed clerks in a half-dozen Middle Eastern countries. It was also unusual that when they entered the room the window was wide open, and the shades were not drawn to keep out the sizzling mid-day sun. These two facts would not have alarmed a regular person, but, lucky for Fletcher, Bronot was not a regular person.
“I guess our cover’s been blown. Back to square one,” Fletcher said, disappointed.
“Not necessarily. It couldn’t have been the Libyans; they would have come in through the door. My guess someone is out to get you. Do you have any enemies we should know about?” asked Bronot.
“Only about a million. What makes you sure this was a hit?”
“We had some low-level intel that Rajad ordered one.”
“You’re only telling me this now?”
“We couldn’t confirm it. Anyways, it wouldn’t have changed your plans.”
“But that means Rajad knows we’re in Libya!”
“Not necessarily, if he farmed it out. Professional killers usually don’t keep their employers in the loop on their location and methods. They just call in “it’s done” at the end.”
Agent of Vengeance Page 17