Chapter 14
The limousine was waiting at 5:45 AM on a cold January morning, in front of the Long Island mansion of Charles Daniels, the executive vice president of Pfizer, in charge of with finding new pharmaceutical developments. One of his predecessors had invented Viagra and made the company a fortune back in the nineties. Charles was getting paid several millions a year to achieve a similar breakthrough, but after two years into the job nothing similar had come up yet.
Pressure was increasing and he was desperately hoping to find at least a hint to the next big pille during the trip he was about to start. He boarded the limousine at 5:50 AM and the driver headed towards Teterboro airport, where a Netjets private flight was waiting to take him to South Korea.
He had received some extremely promising reports on a new molecule for oncology and tumor control applications, developed by a South Korean research group. It was now time to check if the production process was in line with the US Federal Drug Administration regulations or if the extensive use of stem cells and other human cell sub-products, potentially banned the drug in the US.
He was still reviewing the reports on his tablet when the limo stopped next to Teterboro terminal. He left the car and entered the departure area, preparing for the security checks. The real advantage of flying private was not so much about the extra space on board, which was offset by a bumpier ride, nor by the schedule flexibility, which actually ate into personal life. The real advantage for Charles was to avoid the security lines that built up, even for business and first class passengers.
He was shocked when, after passing his carry-on bag through the X-Ray machine, the young officer asked him to enter a small room without windows and a plate on the door stating ‘US Customs and Border Control’.
The officer closed the door behind him and stayed outside. Inside the room, behind a rather old desk, sat a man in his late thirties, maybe early forties, who sprang up from his chair and invited him to sit.
“Dear Mr. Daniels, let me begin by saying that you are not under any type of scrutiny. On the contrary, we are seeking your help or, better, trying to help you. We ask only a few minutes of your time before you continue your long trip to South Korea.”
The opening remark dispelled any apprehension Charles had, letting his assertive side take over.
“First of all, who are you? You do not even wear an identification badge, and this would be reason enough to call a lawyer and sue the government agency you belong to. Second, how do you know I have a twelve hour flight to Korea in front of me? Have you hacked into my emails or calls? If you are the CIA or the FBI or God knows what, I hope you have all your papers right, or else every extra minute you keep me here will mean another lawyer I am going to throw at you.”
“Mr. Daniels, we are asking for your help and we have to do it discreetly. If you want to bring your lawyers, that is your decision, but then we will ask you in court to publish what you are doing with the South Koreans. Anyway, we need your help on this.”
He handed to Charles a small plastic bag with two pills with the T stamped on top. Charles did not move, watching the border officer with an inquisitive eye.
“Mr. Daniels, all I can tell you is that we do not know what these pills are. We know that there is a company out there that is able to manufacture them, and that they are related to a project developed by two biotech startups, NuAge and Ambrosyan, that shut down operations around six months ago after some of the key investors left the ventures. You might have heard about them. I can also tell you that some of their investors and designers were involved in an industrial espionage story where foreign powers were trying to get their hands on this. The startups claimed to be active in research for life-extending drugs, but we have evidence that part of the team was also involved in military projects. We have finally managed to get some of the production, we are talking about roughly ten pills, but our labs have not been able to tell us what exactly this drug is, except that it is not a synthetic hallucinogen and is extremely well engineered.”
Charles Daniels slowly extended his arm and grabbed the bag. “Then why give it to us? And where are the other eight pills?”
“Because we need your know-how to help us understand what exactly we are dealing with. If it is a threat, we will need your help anyway. If it is not, there is maybe something inside you might find useful for your business. It is the US government’s priority to make sure American businesses have the upper hand over global competition. And to do things fairly, we have sent some of the samples to some of your competitors, Merck, Gilead, and the like. We do not favor certain US businesses at the detriment of others.”
Charles put the bag back on the table, took a post-it from his bag and wrote an address on top. He then put a twenty dollar bill next to it.
“Alright, Mr. Government, I am going to trust you but I need cover as well. You will send the pills via top priority FedEx to this address, in the name of the officer that is sitting outside. I noticed he is wearing a valid badge, I will take a picture of it before leaving. If the package does not bear his name in the sender address, it will be thrashed. Consider the twenty bucks as my personal contribution to cover unexpected shipment costs. We will need at least three months to get some results, I guess you can find a way to contact us.”
“I think we are all set, Mr. Daniels. Your plane is waiting for you. And thanks again for your patience and attention. You can call me Skip.”
As Charles walked past the departure gate, onto his private jet, Skip felt satisfied, beginning his revenge against the CIA.
He had been an idiot. He had fed them all the information he had found, including the research on Sean’s girlfriend and the whereabouts of the two Israelis. The reward was that he had been summoned, one spring day, to Langley. He would never forget it. It was April 25th, with Greg Russo interrogating him.
Greg argued that the Israelis had some merit. They had found out that Sean was a cover up and that it was the same person as George McKilroy.
Greg had worked hard to persuade the Israelis that Homeland Security had not been able to figure out in two years, what they realized in half a year. Anyway, it was too late now. Sean had disappeared, and his girlfriend and many of his business contacts had followed suit.
And one of the key reasons of the disappearance was, of course, the warning Skip gave that the Mossad was after him. “Sometimes good intentions lead to bad outcomes,” commented Greg, as if he was teaching spy 101. Had it not been for Skip’s blatant mistake, Sean would probably been in jail now. What did Skip know exactly about drug traffic? Had he consulted the DEA, the Drug Enforcement Agency? Maybe the Israelis had found out something, but they would certainly not share information now.
Greg refrained from directly confronting Skip because the rest of the work was very accurate. However, it was clear that the enquiry had to be stopped and transferred to the CIA. In any case, Sean and his friends would most likely not show up on US or Israel soil ever again.
Needless to say, Skip got demoted while Greg got promoted. Skip knew that Sean had a valuable secret, though, and if he could not help protect it, surely some other American would. The CIA could never have complete control over the United States.
The Last Enemy - Parts 1,2 & 3 - 1934-2054 Page 25