Eden's Gate (27 page)

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Authors: David Hagberg

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CDC Drs. Osborne and deHuis flew up to Washington to brief the president. They were seated across from him sipping coffee at 1:00 A.M.
“It's a manufactured virus, Mr. President, there's no doubt about it now,” Osborne said. “It's equally obvious that it was designed to be a weapon, which in a perverse way works somewhat to our benefit. Once it hits the environment it has a life span of less than six hours. Quite ingenious, actually.”
The president exchanged a glance with his national security adviser. So far the CDC had not been made aware of the terrorists' threat. “Would gas masks be effective? Or can the disease be spread by contact with other infected people?”
“The most effective way to deliver it would be by an airborne spray. Maybe out of an airplane. Or a canister with a timed release, say on top of the New York World Trade Center towers. Gas masks would not work.”
“But it could also be spread through a building's or even a city's water supply,” deHuis said. “In fact the virus might live a little longer in cold water than in the atmosphere.”
“In that case we're only talking about a one-time limited effect, is that what you're saying?” Newby asked.
“Yes, sir. That's one of the reasons we believe the A virus was designed as a weapon. It could be used on a battlefield, but the soldiers could go in a few hours behind it to mop up the survivors.”
“The A virus?” the president asked.
“A for antique,” Osborne replied. “It's an old strain, one that we couldn't immediately find in our databases. It's manufactured, we knew that for sure almost immediately; there are certain aspects of its makeup that are giveaways. The thickness of the cell walls for one, and its reaction to some of our antiviral bullets. Modern-day viruses have learned not to react.”
“I thought that this branch of biology was modern, since the seventies or eighties,” Newby said.
“Actually virology got its name and its real start in the thirties in Germany,” Dr. Osborne said.
It took a moment for what the doctor had said to sink in fully, and a look of surprise crossed the president's face. “The Nazis?”
“It's our best guess,” deHuis said. “My grandparents and my father were taken from Amsterdam and placed in a concentration camp. My dad was the only survivor. When I was little I would sneak downstairs at night to listen to the stories he told my mother about medical experiments. He actually knew Mengele.”
“I'm sorry …”
“I didn't mean to ask for sympathy, Mr. President. I grew up with the stories so when I went into medicine I specialized in biological killers, which led me to the CDC. I did a college paper on the virology research of the era, and this strain has all the earmarks of the weapons the Nazis were working on.”
“How the hell did it get over here?” Newby asked, but the president cut him off.
“That'll come later. What I want to know is what would happen if it were to be released, let's say from the World Trade towers in New York, as you suggested.”
“It would depend on which way the wind was blowing. But assuming the worst case scenario and the virus was blown across Manhattan, a lot of people would die. The virus sample sent to us could conceivably kill a couple of thousand people. Three or four pounds of the stuff could kill hundreds of thousands, maybe millions.”
“Nor would their deaths be anything that you would want to witness,” Dr. Osborne said. “I worked on a couple of outbreaks in Zaire and the Congo, and I saw firsthand what hemorraghic fever does to the human body.” He averted his eyes. “Fever, sweating, palsy. Then nausea, weakness, diarrhea, vomiting. The patient bleeds internally. His organs, starting with the kidneys, fail. Excruciating pain. Bleeding inside the brain. Within twenty-four hours the patient is not only coughing up blood, he's sweating blood. It oozes
out of his pores.” Dr. Osborne looked up. “A half-million hemorraghic fever victims in Manhattan would be even worse than the Nazi death camps. It would be nothing less than a nightmare from hell.”
“No preventive measures?” the president asked. “No antidotes?”
“No, sir.”
The president nodded. “Thank you for the CDC's fast action. I have to order you not to tell anybody about this. That includes families.”
“If there is an outbreak, we'll have to be notified.”
“Of course.”
“May I ask a question, Mr. President?” Osborne said.
“Yes.”
“Is this an actual threat? Has someone threatened to release the virus in a big city?”
“I'm afraid so,” the president said. “But we don't know which big city.”
Dr. Osborne thought about it for a moment. “Well, sir, we have to stop them.”
“We're working on it, Doctor.”
 
Tom Hughes was awake when the call from the president came at 2:00 A.M. He'd not gotten much sleep since they'd lost track of Lane off the coast of Florida. Now that William was back safely from that operation and the one in Kalispell with Frances, he was still unable to get a full night's sleep. Something was about to happen. He just knew it.
For the past three days Moira and the girls had all but tiptoed around the house when he was at home. Something was bothering him and they gave him all the peace and quiet they could. What the president was telling him confirmed his worst fears.
“We not only know where the virus came from, Mr. President, we know who is planning to use it,” Hughes said.
“How in God's name did you know, and why didn't you do something about it?” President Reasoner demanded angrily.
“We thought that it was something else. Diamonds. And we're still working on the project. It was something that the German Federal Police asked us to help with a few weeks ago.”
“I want the three of you over here as soon as possible. We can exchange information,” the president said. “We don't have much time.”
Moira had turned on the light, got out of bed, and put on her robe. “Shall I make coffee, Thomas?”
Hughes looked at his wife and a wave of love came over him. He shook his head. “There's not enough time,” he said. He'd never heard the president, any president, speak with so much fear in his voice. “I would like you to call William and Frances for me. Tell them that I'm on my way to fetch them. It has to do with Reichsamt Seventeen.”
 
Lane was up and dressed in Armani slacks, a light handmade sweater he'd picked up in New Delhi a few years ago, and Bruno Magli loafers, when Hughes arrived at the house. Frannie, dressed in light silk slacks and a cream-colored blouse and flats, wasn't happy that Hughes was here. But Lane was ready to go. “What's this about Reichsamt Seventeen? Something new?”
“It's a deadly virus, not diamonds, and Speyer apparently means to use it. The president wants to see us immediately.”
“No wonder the Germans wanted our help, and yet they didn't want to cooperate with us,” Lane said. “They would have had to admit they were covering up their knowledge of what really was in the bunker. Did Speyer give a deadline?”
“The president didn't say,” Hughes said. “But he sounded—”
“Frightened?” Frances asked.
Hughes nodded. “He did indeed sound frightened.”
 
It was a few minutes after 3:00 A.M. when they were admitted through the west gate. They left their car under the portico and were immediately escorted to the Oval Office where the president and his national security adviser were in shirtsleeves, waiting. They looked as if they hadn't slept in days.
“Thank you for coming out at this hour and on such short notice,” the president said tiredly. “Now maybe we can start to get somewhere. You say that you know about the virus and who has it?”
“A former Stasi captain by the name of Helmut Speyer,” Hughes said. “But it was William who infiltrated his organization three and a half weeks ago.”
The president turned to Lane. “Tell me.”
Lane quickly told the president and his adviser everything, starting with the German federal police request to find Speyer and Baumann,
all the way to his rescue in the Gulf Stream by the Coast Guard, and his and Frannie's entry to the Kalispell compound.
“That's quite a story,” the president said, impressed. “But then I wouldn't have expected anything less from you. Where did he go with the captain's gig after the
Maria
was sunk?”
“It's a safe bet that he didn't take the gig to Miami. He would never have gotten the box through customs. He might have gone to Havana and from there to Mexico City. But he did show up in Miami three days later where he and his wife and the sergeant took the Gulfstream jet back to his ranch. How he got the box through customs is something we haven't figured out yet.”
The president sat forward. “Good lord, is he still there?”
“No. He and all of his people left the day after William and I were there,” Frances said. “The FBI office in Helena has been watching his operation, but Speyer somehow slipped through their fingers when they were looking the other way. The Gulfstream showed up at New York's LaGuardia forty-eight hours ago, dropped off two people, then flew down here to Dulles where a woman got off—presumably the man's wife—and then continued on to Miami where the crew disappeared.”
“Was anything found aboard the airplane?” Newby asked.
“No, sir,” Frances said. “Not even fingerprints. The entire aircraft was wiped clean.”
“Nothing since then on Speyer?”
“We haven't come up with anything,” Hughes said. “But under the light of present circumstances that is a task for the FBI. I'm sure that somebody has seen something.”
The president handed Lane a file folder. “This is what we have so far. The note that came with the sample bottle, the CDC's findings, and a transcript of the computer conversation I had with him.”
Lane quickly read through the material and handed it to Frannie and Hughes. “Well, his demands have certainly risen. When he was telling me that the box contained diamonds he was going to sell them back to the German government for three hundred million. Now he wants thirty times that much.”
“The Bureau and the CIA are working on this, I would assume,” Hughes said.
“Yes, but of necessity they're going about their jobs quietly. It's hampering their effectiveness, as is the deadline, but for the moment we have no other choice but to accept this madman at his word.”
The president glanced at his desk clock. “We have less than sixty-four hours, and we don't have an idea where to start.”
“I'm sorry to disagree, Mr. President,” Lane said. “But Speyer has inadvertently given us some very good clues. I'm guessing that he went to New York to pick up the virus where it came in on the ship that met him in the Gulf Stream. He's going to release the virus right here in Washington, and when he's done he's going to Cuba. Eden, he calls it.”
“What if we don't pay him?” Newby asked.
“It doesn't matter to him,” Lane said. “If we do pay him he'll give us the virus. I'm pretty sure of that much. But if we don't pay him, he'll release some of it in Washington. If it works, he'll take the rest of it to Cuba where he'll sell it to the highest bidder.”
“Good Lord, the man is worse than crazy,” the president said. “He's a sociopath.”
“Much worse,” Lane agreed. “But we'll find him. In the meantime don't tell the FBI or CIA that we're in the mix. It might leak and then the game would be up for us. At least for now.”
“Very well,” the president said. “Then there's nothing left but to put this in your hands.” He smiled wryly. “But that's why I created The Room and hired you in the first place.”
 
Back in their offices at the Naval Observatory Hughes telephoned BKA Chief Inspector Dieter Schey in Berlin. It was after 8:00 A.M. in Germany. He put the call on the speakerphone.
“We're running into a problem with Helmut Speyer and his people,” Hughes said.
“What sort of problem, Herr Hughes?” Schey asked. They could hear he was under a strain.
“Well, as you know he made it back here to the States with whatever it was they brought up from Reichsamt Seventeen. We wanted to give him some room, you know, to see what he was up to. But he seems to have disappeared. With the box.”
“
Gott in Himmel
,” Chief Inspecter Schey said softly. “Your man should know more about this than I do. He was there.”
“He doesn't know,” Hughes said. “Dieter, this is very important to us. To all of us. What was in the box they brought up from the bunker? What were the Nazis doing down there in the forties?”

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