The Coward's Way of War (15 page)

“By the collapse of the Soviet Union, the Russians had stockpiled enough smallpox to wipe out the entire population of the world several times over.  They had also stockpiled diseases like Ebola, although they were less successful in turning them into weapons.  From what we heard, they successfully managed to create diseases that combined the worst of two separate diseases, or ones that had fantastically long incubation periods.  They had a number of accidents, yet they just carried on.  The KGB cleaned up and silenced everyone involved in the disasters.”

He shook his head.  “The Russians were never very good at paying the menial staffers,” he added.  “One of their idiots somehow managed to forget to replace a filter at one of their biological research labs.  A few thousand spores of anthrax got out and into the air, causing several hundred people to become ill.  None of the local doctors knew about the biological lab, so they had no idea what they were dealing with at first.  By the time the authorities figured out the truth, it had spread far further than they realised.  Hundreds of people died.

“A few years later, one of their researchers managed to inject himself with one of the worst diseases in the world.  The poor bastard was shunted into a quarantine ward and questioned incessantly on his condition as he faded away into death.  They took samples of the disease from his dying body, named it after him, and turned it into a weapon.  We’ve had accidents ourselves, but nothing quite that bad.  There are even reports of worse accidents that were so comprehensively covered up that we only heard whispered rumours, if that.

“When the Soviet Union collapsed, thousands of trained and experienced scientists found themselves unemployed.  We know that some of them made their way to the Middle East, where they worked with Iraqi and Iranian scientists on biological weapons.  The Israelis assassinated several of them in the years prior to Operation Iraqi Freedom.  Others reached China, or India, or North Korea.  There are persistent rumours that some of them were even employed by transnational terrorist groups.”

He scowled.  “The irony was that when we pressed the Russians to take greater care of their scientists and prevent them from going to work for terrorists, they cut off any chance of further defections at the same time,” he concluded.  “The truth, Madam President, is that we don’t know just what is going on inside the Russian biological warfare program.  It is quite possible that Henderson’s Disease came out of Russia.”

The President considered it for a long moment.  “Are you sure that the Russians are involved?”

“Henderson’s Disease is a modified form of smallpox,” Nicolas confirmed.  “It also had to reach the terrorists fairly recently, or we would have seen it before now.  The Russians are the only known state with the capability to produce something like Henderson’s Disease, so…they are at least the source of the disease, even if it wasn't their choice to launch the attack.  I still think that terrorists carried out the first infection.”

“They have to be mad,” the President said, again.  “Don’t they know that we would retaliate?”

“I think so,” Nicolas said.  “I suspect that we will discover that Henderson’s Disease came from a sample that went walkabout a few years ago.”

“And the Russians will not want to cooperate,” the President said.  Her tone was icy cold.  “They
will
cooperate or else.  The mood on the streets is ugly, Doctor; if the Russians receive the blame for this attack, the entire American population will support a war with them in revenge.  I want you to draw up a list of answers we need from the Russians and put together a team that can inspect the Russian facilities.  I want people who know what they’re talking about and who won’t allow the Russians to deflect them.”

Nicolas nodded.  He’d read the reports from the brief inspection phase and one thing stood out.  The Russians had worked desperately to delay and distract the inspectors, using everything from elaborate meals and heavy drinking to manufactured delays and breakdowns.  Even so, the researchers had uncovered many alarming details, ones that had been rapidly denied by the Russians.  Their biological program had been officially shut down more than any other known biological program, even Saddam’s WMD research project.  No one in Wildfire’s research community believed the Russian denials any longer. 

“I want you to head the team personally,” the President continued.  “You are to ensure that the Russians give you complete access to anyone and everyone you consider worth questioning.  At the slightest hint of stonewalling, you are to pull your team out and we will go to war.  The troops we base in Europe are already on alert” – the bases had been quarantined by the European authorities, Nicolas knew – “and I'm sure that we won’t have any problems getting cooperation from the Europeans.  You have to make it clear to the Russians; they come clean, completely clean, or they face the entire might of NATO.”

Nicolas frowned.  It was outside his bailiwick, but…

“Madam President,” he asked.  “Will the Europeans cooperate?”

“We had an emergency FLASH message from Paris a few hours ago,” the President said.  “The first case of Henderson’s Disease has been reported in France.  If it’s there…”

Nicolas followed her logic.  The European borders had been effectively non-existent for years.  By the time the first Frenchman became obviously ill, the disease could have spread across most of Europe and into Russia.  There lay the true danger of biological weapons, for anyone careful enough to see; biological weapons knew no borders or allied forces.  The disease the Russians had created – assuming that he was right – would come back at them full force.  The world was so integrated that even large islands like Britain and Australia wouldn’t be safe.  The enemy was already within the walls.

“It could be everywhere,” he concluded.  Patient Zero had been to Mexico, yet they’d heard nothing from the Mexican Government.  Perhaps that wasn't so surprising.  Mexico was locked in what was effectively a civil war between the Government and the drug cartels, so little matters like a disease that could exterminate most of the Mexican population were somehow unimportant.  He couldn’t understand how anyone could be so short-sighted.  It almost made him believe the claim that the disease had been released by ecological terrorists, convinced that the world would be a better place without the human race.  “It could be all around the world by now.”

He shook his head.  “It
will
be all around the world by now.”

America and Europe had, despite endless grumbling, excellent public health services.  Henderson’s Disease was virulent, but it could be countered, even though he knew that tens of thousands – at least – were going to die.  Outside the West, it was going to be a great deal worse; the poor peasant populations of China, Africa and India were going to become infected and die in their millions.  The Middle East wouldn’t be much better off.  Outside Israel, there was no focused vaccination program and the public health services were notoriously unreliable when forced to cope with emergencies.  All hell was going to break loose.

They’re going to blame it on us
, he thought, dryly.  Already, the crackpots were coming out of the woodwork, spreading lies and half-true rumours across the world.  Henderson’s Disease was the white man’s plot to exterminate the blacks, it was an American plot to exterminate the Arabs, it was a Chinese plot to exterminate America, it was an Arab plot to exterminate the Jews…it was even supposed to be the softening-up blow for an alien invasion fleet, waiting high above the atmosphere for the human race to drop dead.  There seemed to be no limit to the absurd rumours…and no limit to the number of people prepared to believe them.  So far, relatively little violence had materialised, but that wouldn’t last.  Fear could drive people into doing stupid things.

“Believe me,” the President said.  “The note I will deliver to the Russians will make our feelings very clear.  They will cooperate, or we will go to war and make war with all our power and fury…and we will not stop until every last Russian is dead.”

In any society, there is always an underclass, a society within a society that pays lit
tle heed to the overall society.  In America, that society is mainly composed of Latin American immigrants, mostly illegal, who dare not attract attention from the immigration services.  Those people pose a threat to America’s national security.

- Jim Reve
lls

New York, USA

Day 10

Maria Hernandez coughed, feeling the cough
’s force against the mask covering her mouth, and wondered absently just what sort of germs the mask was preventing her from spreading through the hotel.  The manager had been insistent that the Marigold would continue to function even if there was a plague spreading through New York, ordering Maria and most of the other hotel staff to remain at their stations.  The handful that had friends or family in New York had deserted their posts, but Maria – who dared not attract official attention – had been forced to remain on duty.  Naturally, with the hotel in such a state, there was no question of overtime pay. 

She rubbed her forehead and scowled as she felt sweat covering her brow.  Her head was pounding away, as if a demented drummer had taken up residence in her skull, leaving her wondering if it was just a headache or something more sinister.  Maria had suffered from low blood pressure and headaches all her life and it was impossible to tell if she was having just another headache, or the early stages of Henderson’s Disease.  She studied her Latino face in the mirror and allowed herself a sigh of relief, noting the absence of any red spots on her features.  Her manager, of course, would probably expect her to come in to work even if she were on her deathbed.  He worked his staff hard, collecting bonuses from senior management to feed his fat wife and squalling brats.  His staff, which included a number of illegal immigrants such as herself, was lucky if they received any bonuses at all.

Sighing, she pushed her trolley down towards the first suite of rooms.  The manager had been horrified when most of the guests had decamped once the government had started issuing warnings about Henderson’s Disease, pretending to be surprised that not everyone wanted to drain their bank accounts dry staying at the Marigold.  A handful of wealthy refugees had taken up residence instead, but the manager was growing increasingly annoyed by their complaining and bitching about the food they were expected to eat.  Maria had no time for such people, not when she knew that the food they were being served, even in such troubled times, could keep her entire family fed for months.  Some people just didn't know how lucky they were.

She caught sight of one of the other maids and winced at her rumpled demeanour.  Some of the guests seemed to think that the vast sums of money they paid to stay at the Marigold guaranteed them access to the female staff’s sexual favours.  Maria knew that some of the maids encouraged them in exchange for tips, but she disliked the thought, for she took her religion seriously.  Once, long ago in another world, there had been a man she had thought she would marry, but he had abandoned her when he had gone to America.  Maria had harboured the romantic notion that they would meet again when they were both American citizens, yet she knew that it was impossible.  Like so many other illegal immigrants, she was caught between the devil – in the form of her manager – and the immigration services.

“Don’t worry,” she said, as she pushed her trolley past the other maid.  Li was a young Chinese girl, barely out of her teens.  Maria had found herself mothering the younger girl more than once, yet with the disease spreading through New York, physical contact was too dangerous.  It was bad enough that they were still working for a living.  “They’ll be gone soon enough.”

The first suite was mercifully deserted, the inhabitants having headed downstairs to sample what remained of the Marigold’s entertainments.  Maria tided up automatically, checking that the guests weren't stealing anything from the tiny bar as she worked.  The bathroom was surprisingly clean and she washed it quickly, before wiping the windows and heading out to the next suite.  The inhabitant, a young man barely out of his teens, gave her a look he probably thought was seductive.  Maria, who hated the casual arrogance of rich kids with far more money than sense, ignored him and pointedly clicked on the radio as she worked.  It was a petty form of rebellion, yet it worked; the youth headed off in search of other women to seduce.

“...At an online rally, based in virtual New York, the Reverend Johnston warned that African-Americans were being deliberately deprived of the vaccine needed to combat Henderson’s Disease,” the radio said.  Maria hated political programs, but the radio was old, too worn for her to change the channel quickly.  “Johnston claimed that the President and her Government intend to see all black Americans dead before they vaccinate the remainder of the population.  The Reverend, who first attained fame for his high-profile denunciations of former President Obama and other black politicians...”