“Not to mention killing each other off with weapons of mass destruction. With overpopulation, famine, pestilence, and war, mankind will eventually kill itself off anyway,” Rolf said.
“If our financial backers knew our real goals they wouldn’t be so interested in funding our operations, but they’re even less deserving of surviving than the other inferior races that are overpopulating the earth. I’m glad we’re having this talk. I become weary sometimes. I feel weighted down with all my responsibility running the company and conducting our research. I hesitate to explain everything to Kurt. He’s so naïve in so many ways.”
“While he’s here this summer you must start telling him his place in the plan.”
“I will, but I need your help.”
“Consider it given.”
“Not to change the subject, again, but did you ask Heinrich to get rid of the bodies from our last trial?”
“I did, and he should have disposed of them by now.”
“I hope so.” Karl wheeled the Porsche sharply into a narrow opening in the trees. A quarter of a mile down the concrete paved road Karl came upon a foliage camouflaged gate. Karl retrieved a small garage door style clicker from the center console, keyed in a three button sequence to open the gate, and drove through. The gate automatically closed behind the Porsche. A quarter of a mile farther on asphalt pavement, Karl stopped in front of a second gate and opened it repeating the same three button sequence and passed through.
Another hundred yards farther on Karl pulled into a roundabout in front of a large modern building which looked more like a business building with no windows on the first floor than a home. Karl pressed the same three button sequence as the gates, turning the outdoor lighting ‘on’ for the front of the house. “Someday, we should program different codes for the gates and the house,” Rolf said.
“Someday.” Karl assisted his father out of the car. “I’ll help you into the house, then I’ll put the car away in the garage.” Karl held Rolf’s arm as they approached the front door of the mansion. He pressed the ‘open’ code on a series of buttons at the right of the double wide Teak front door, and as they entered, the indoor lighting came on automatically to reveal a spacious well-appointed foyer. “Father, why don’t we get a good night’s rest and begin our work early in the morning?”
“Good idea. I need to get the feeling back into my hands after gripping the car seat and the dash for the past hour.”
At first light the following morning, Karl went to the kitchen and cooked bacon and eggs. He juiced enough acerola fruit with a dash of açaí for two large glasses and toasted four slices of bread and added goat cheese. After a satisfying breakfast and a thorough cleanup of the kitchen, Karl and Rolf made their way through the back yard compound which was surrounded by a twelve-foot tall concrete wall, past the Olympic size swimming pool and tennis court to a locked iron gate in the compound wall.
Karl unlocked the gate and they followed an asphalt covered trail to a large windowless building with a key pad door. The building was inside its own compound surrounded by a continuation of the wall around the house and patio, with the difference being the razor wire on top of the second compound’s walls. Karl punched in the entry code and the door opened. The lights in the entryway automatically came on as they entered the foyer which served as a changing room.
“I love modern technology,” said Rolf.
“So do I,” Karl replied as they crossed the threshold. On the right wall hung sterile white smocks and white hospital pants monogrammed with theirs and Heinrich’s first names. White slippers and socks were in one carton and sterile caps and gloves were in another beneath a changing bench. They removed their short sleeve shirts and trousers, hung them on the hooks on the opposite wall, and placed their leather shoes under the bench.
Once they had changed into their laboratory clothes Karl opened the door to the first level of lab security. They blinked as their eyes adjusted to the brightness. The room had a state of the art lighting and ventilation system. Cameras and microphones were installed at strategic places around the tops of the walls and directly over the medical examination table located in the center of the room.
The clean, well-organized laboratory was filled with medical equipment, microscopes, centrifuges, and rows of beakers and test tubes on shelves built along three of the walls. A white Summit medical refrigerator dominated one corner of the room. Karl, Rolf, and Dieter had been purchasing medical equipment since Dieter started his pharmaceutical company in Brazil in 1935 at 32 years of age with startup funding from the Third Reich.
They had accumulated enough state of the art medical equipment to outfit a complete modern biotechnology laboratory. Most of the equipment was purchased through the family’s pharmaceutical company’s vendors. The fact that they owned a bio-tech lab in the jungle was not and could not be public knowledge. A careful inventory of company equipment would find that this equipment was not to be found on the main campus, and the experiments they conducted in the lab were cruel and inhumane.
At the back of the large laboratory space was an airlock door with an electronic sign which indicated ‘Level 4 Sealed.’ Next to the door were three yellow DuPont bio-hazard suits and air supply hoods. They put on their bio-hazard suits and hoods and held the end of their air hoses ready to plug them in when they were inside the Level 4 compartments.
Karl unlocked the airlock door, opened it, releasing a negative air pressure hiss, and entered. They hurried through the combined shower, ultraviolet and vacuum room. Karl entered the operations room and plugged in his air hose. He inspected the autopsy table and the shelves of medical equipment and found everything was clean and organized. The holding cell for the unwilling patients was in need of cleaning. Apparently Heinrich had taken care of the bodies, but not finished cleaning the cell.
Karl’s hold on Heinrich was tenuous, but Heinrich was a Select wannabe. He was useful when it came to finding new guinea pigs for experimentation and for getting rid of the bodies when the experiments were complete, whether they were successful or not. He was an excellent security man, having spent twenty years working as an agent for the Serviço Nacional de Informações, Brazil’s secret police, but he wasn’t the exemplary laboratory technician.
Karl pulled his air hose around so he could turn and address Rolf. “We need to hire a competent lab technician. I don’t have time to do the mundane work around here.”
Rolf nodded inside the bio-hazard hood face plate and replied, “I know. Let’s look through the files at the factory and see if we can find someone who already works for us.”
Karl replied, “Yes, we need someone who’d be amenable to living on the property and taking care of our experiments and lab animals. Someone we can trust. Someone who could be a potential Select.”
They exited the Level 4 bio-lab after going through the required shower, vacuuming, and ultraviolet radiation. Once back in the workroom, they hung up their bio suits and Karl turned on his laptop computer.
“What about Kurt?” Rolf asked.
Karl looked up from studying the latest human experiment results. “No, Kurt needs to finish his internship and maybe some graduate studies in virology, bacteriology, and genetics. I want him to be as current as possible on all the new techniques for curing bacterial and virus infections, and cancers. His talents will be more valuable when he’s been fully medically trained. A few more years of specialization would prove extremely valuable. He has to replace you and me when the time comes.”
“Aren’t we going to live forever?”
Karl studied his father’s face for traces of humor, but Rolf’s expression matched his voice; deadpan. “Only when we develop the virus which will ensure perfect cell replication time after time. I think we’re on the right track with our DZ104 virus. According to the data, our monkey and human experiments show a year’s worth of aging for each day they had a fever over 103 degrees. If we can speed up aging, we should be able to stop it or at least slow it down. Th
ere has to be an opposite, or complement, for everything, the yin and yang of biochemistry.”
“When do you have to conduct your demonstration experiment for the sponsor?”
“Before the launch platform leaves port.”
“And when do we have to conduct the large scale attack?”
“During the next hurricane season off the East Coast of the US.”
“There’s not much time.”
Twenty-Six
Karl’s Al Qaeda financiers contracted with him to develop a race specific virus, but he doubted that this could be done, since there were no genetically exact races. Almost every race had been mongrelized since the days when his grandfather, Dieter, did research for the Third Reich and became more so every day, even faster since his father, Rolf, did his research in the African jungle. Karl used the example of Tay-Sachs disease as a genetic trait that could be taken advantage of, but even though he doubted he could tailor a pathogen that exactly, he took al Qaeda’s money for the attempt. His primary contact, Jahangir, had fallen off the grid, but Jahangir’s representative assured Karl that the attack was still a ‘go.’
Karl’s visit to Notting Hill would be a small demonstration of what he could do, and its success would guarantee Karl another five million dollars for research; not that he needed the money, but his continued experimentation fit into his overall plan.
Karl slung his backpack over his shoulders and exited the Heathrow Express Rail at Paddington Station, bought a ticket for Notting Hill Gate on the Circle Tube, and boarded the subway. He reviewed his strategy again for the umpteenth time during the twelve-minute ride to Notting Hill. Whatever happened, he couldn’t get caught in the act. Pushing his way out of the car through the crush of Londoners, he rode the escalator to the street level and walked the two blocks to the marketplace. His anonymity from the airport to Notting Hill was essential to his experiment.
He entered the market place and enjoyed the cornucopia smells of fruits, vegetables, and dairy products. He proceeded slowly to the misted vegetables and fruits, leaned over those with edible skins, and stealthily sprayed the most attractive ones using his fake flower boutonniere. He had practiced spraying fruit many times at home with only water in the squeeze bulb to make sure he didn’t personally get any of the spray on himself.
There was enough water borne virus in the squeeze bulb in his pants pocket to coat many square feet of fruits and vegetables. Karl wanted to maximize the spread of the virus, so he wandered from stall to stall spraying selectively. Two shopkeepers paid attention to him, so he calmly purchased pieces of unsprayed fruit, an apple in one case and some grapes in another, while complementing the shopkeepers with the quality of their produce. He threw his purchases into a sidewalk trash can on his way back to the rail station.
Karl made his way anonymously back to Heathrow and flew on to Munich to visit Kurt, where he was finishing his first year as an intern. Once in Munich he passed a progress report to his al Qaeda sponsor through their agreed upon intermediary stating he had initiated the Notting Hill experiment and results would be available shortly.
Twenty-Seven
Ian, Jacques, and Serena stopped at the Center for Disease Control reception desk. As they handed their identifications to the receptionist, Ian said, “We’re here to meet with Desiree Smith.”
“She’s expecting you. Here are your visitor badges. Wear them around your necks and stay in the company of your escort while you’re visiting. Please have a seat. She’ll be here in a few minutes.”
The three friends waited on the reception area leather couch in silence. They avoided small talk in public places, but given a secluded space they had more than 900 years of adventures to talk about.
Desiree emerged from a side door and motioned for them to follow. As she led them down a long brightly lit corridor, she turned to Ian and said, “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you. I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too, but you know being a Seal is a 24/7 occupation, and we’ve been running back to back to back missions lately. There aren’t enough good men to go around.”
“That’s for sure.” She led them first through an eye and hand print door, then down another long brightly lit hallway and stopped in front of a door with her name and Pandemics Investigator stenciled on the door’s window glass. Desiree entered the digital code required to open the door, held the door open while they entered her office, and closed the door behind them.
The office was capacious enough for a large oak desk, a 4-drawer file cabinet, a half-height safe, and three guest straight back chairs. Behind the desk was a floor to ceiling glass window providing outside lighting. Desiree walked to the side of the window, pushed a button and a set of vertical blinds slid across the window and the inside lighting turned on automatically.
“Although this isn’t an approved SCIF, we can talk pretty freely. I’ve scanned the room for bugs. A little paranoia never hurt. I could’ve reserved a SCIF, but I didn’t want to attract too much attention, at least not at this juncture.”
She took her executive style chair behind the desk and said, “I’m glad all three of you were able to meet here today. I know how hard it is for you, Ian, to get away from your Seal duties, for Serena to take a break from the Mossad, and you, Jacques, I guess Blackwater keeps you pretty busy.”
“I contract with Academi now,” replied Jacques, “and yes, we’re busy these days.”
Desiree reached into her lower right hand desk drawer and placed a bottle of 16-year-old single malt Bushmills Irish whiskey, a small bottle of Perrier water, and three shot glasses on the desk. Desiree poured, and Ian’s eyes smiled appreciation for the offer and reached out for a two finger glass. She then poured shots for Jacques and Serena. Desiree leaned back in her chair, held up her bottle of Perrier, and asked, “To what do we toast?”
Ian held up his shot glass and said, “To love, life, friendship, and the four of us.”
“Salud,” said Jacques, bumped glasses with Ian and Serena, and bumped Desiree’s Perrier bottle, and they all downed a swallow of their respective drinks.
“We have a great deal to talk about as a team, and I thought my office would be a safe place to have a serious discussion.”
“Whatever you have must be pretty scary to call all three of us to your office,” said Jacques.
“It is. Serena is already on board and she’ll report her findings once I’ve told you the basics. Have you read or heard about the Notting Hill epidemic?” asked Desiree.
“The nightly news said a virus originating in Notting Hill near London has caused many illnesses and quite a few deaths, but that seems to happen whenever a new virus hits,” replied Ian.
Desiree said, “We’ve withheld some details of the Notting Hill virus from the public. For example, we haven’t given any indication that we suspect it’s a terrorist attack. The virus seems to be fatal to the usual vulnerable people, meaning the elderly and the already chronically ill. Young normally healthy people were sick for up to two weeks, but most recovered, but everyone appeared to have aged a year for every day they had a high fever. We have testimony from the victims’ families that the victims appeared noticeably older after their illness.
Also, we did cell analysis on them and found lipofuscin levels higher than expected, less pliable and shrunken collagen, unnaturally shortened telomeres, and more damaged mitochondria for their calendar ages than they should have had. Most had high fevers for five to seven days, the longer they had high fevers the more they seemed to age, and the more likely they were to die. I estimated a year of aging for every day of high, over 103 degrees Fahrenheit, fever.”
“Are you telling us this virus can kill by making people old and sick at the same time?” asked Jacques.
“We think that’s the case. Like I said, we can’t explain all we’ve seen, and consequently we held back some of our findings from the public.”
“That’s pretty scary,” Ian said.
“That’s a
liens popping out of your chest scary,” added Jacques.
Ian slugged Jacques on the arm.
“I’m serious about this threat,” Desiree said with a frown.
“I’m sorry. How many victims did you examine?” asked Ian.
“About fifty, so far, of the hundred or so we believe were infected. This has all the earmarks of a manmade pathogen, not a naturally occurring one. The social media is ramping up with victims’ families calling this a terrorist attack and scaring Londoners.”
“What can we do to help?” asked Ian.
“I suspect foul play. We had no prognostications for a new viral strain hitting London. We normally prepare vaccination cocktails, flu shots, of the three most likely viruses to hit the US every year. Thousands of people in over 40 states still contracted H3N2 in 2012, but our guess was excellent. Those who received the inoculation fared better against H3N2 than those who didn’t. We can’t predict these outbreaks as accurately as we would like, but the Notting Hill virus came out of the blue. Also, this aging side effect is anomalous and very suspicious. We think it is a manmade water borne virus which has been and will be used as a weapon.”
“What’s the point of a terrorist weapon that infects a hundred people other than to scare the hell out of the population?” asked Jacques. “It doesn’t sound like a WMD.”
“Maybe the Notting Hill outbreak was a small demo of what could be done on a larger scale,” Desiree replied.
“Why not make up a vaccine for this new virus and get it out to everybody, just in case?” asked Ian.
“That sounds simple enough. We’re trying to develop a vaccine as we speak, but the virus has unique properties we’ve never seen before, so it may take months or years before we can develop an effective vaccine, and more months to produce the millions of doses we would need just for the US, and months more to get everyone to get their shots. In other words, if we had a terrorist attack in the next few months we would be completely vulnerable.” Desiree paused for what she said to sink in.
The Honorable Knight Page 20