The Red Syndrome (22 page)

"I hear from germ-weapons experts that there's a greater risk of dying
on the highway than from exposure to anthrax, but terrorists may soon be
able to overcome the technical hurdles to mass destruction, especially if
aided by rogue states or scientists. A number of terrorist organizations are seeking biological, chemical, radiological, or nuclear agents to attack the
West. Bioweapons are cheaper, stealthier, and potentially more devastating than nuclear arms, though hard for terrorists to acquire and use
without hurting themselves.

"We have just learned that the imminent threat before us is in the form
of a biological agent, probably causing hemorrhagic fever, a virus that kills
most people it infects. We've heard it called the Red Syndrome, but the
CDC tells us that's likely an ad hoc name for this killer disease. We don't
know how they plan to spread it, but we're working on it. The buzzword
is carriers. We can only guess what this means. It could be contaminated
people carrying the disease to our population centers, contaminated
organic material, or sick animals. Look for any clues."

I went back to the room overlooking the interrogation cell where the
questioning of Malik Fazal continued.

"We don't have much time and neither do you," shouted the interrogator directly in Fazal's ear. "I'm the good guy here. If you don't talk in
three minutes, I am going to hand you over to a special interrogation
team. They will work you out."

Fazal didn't answer, but he was visibly shaken, looking sideways and
moving his hands nervously.

"How do you plan to spread it?"

Not a word. After a few more futile attempts, it was over. "Okay, suit
yourself," said the interrogator, and buzzed the intercom. "Take him to
Section C."

The door opened and Fazal was roughly removed from his chair. Two
refrigerator-sized guards held him by his handcuffs and dragged him
along the floor. He was taken to another room down the hall. I returned
to the conference room. "That will be a closed session," said Hodson
when I asked if I could be present during the aggressive interrogation.
"No one is allowed."

Two hours later a different interrogator approached Hodson in the
makeshift control room with the two-way mirror. He was a short and
stocky fellow in his late twenties - the butcher type.

"He talked."

"What convinced him?"

"You don't want to know. But he told me how they planned to spread
the virus."

"How?"

"Contaminate commercially sold food and drink."

"Did he say how they were going to do it?" asked Hodson.

"He refuses to give any details; I suspect he's trying to stall."

"And?"

"Before he lost consciousness he said something about a few of their
people working in food-processing facilities."

"Have they already contaminated any food or drink?"

"He didn't say. We'll continue to work on him once he wakes up. As to
the money transfer: He conceded being in charge of sending the Suspicious
Activity Reports. Apparently he wrote the reports, showed them to Eagle
Bank management, but never filed them."

"How long had Fazal been in place at the bank?" asked Hodson.

"Five years," answered the interrogator.

"So when recruited he was already working at the bank?"

"That's what the man said."

"Does Fazal think he was recruited because he was working at the
bank?"

"I asked him that, but he wouldn't know. He did confirm that it was no
hassle to recruit him. He was ready and willing."

"Let a doctor see him," said Hodson.

"Let us finish first. I think we have time constraints here."

"How is he physically taking it?" asked Hodson.

"He had difficulty breathing. Also, his tongue is swollen a bit, and he
may need a dentist if he persists in playing games with us," the interrogator concluded with a straight face.

"Okay, but I'll have a doctor ready near the interrogation room. What
about Bernard Lipinsky?"

"He denied killing him, but from what we know already there are at
least five other members of his cell in the U.S. who could be responsible. Fazal told me that copies of the messages were given to Lipinsky erroneously. That doomed the man. We have the other members' names, and
warrants are being issued as we speak."

"Did you establish any connection to the missing Israeli operatives?"

"Most likely, although we need to clear it up further."

Hodson then called the Centers for Disease Control.

Dr. Herman Nadler said, "It's true. The virus can live in any organic
material. When consumed, the virus infects the person immediately."

"Any food and drink?"

"Most foods - if the disease is indeed hemorrhagic fever. Look for scientists who may have genetically engineered the virus, because hemorrhagic fever is unlikely to be used for mass contamination. They may have
bred it with another agent that spreads easily."

"Bob," I interjected, "please ask him if it is possible to engineer the virus
to mate with an E. coli bacteria?"

Hodson posed the question. "It's certainly a possibility," confirmed
Nadler.

"If terrorists get a hold of a small strain of the virus, does it have any
significance?" Hodson continued.

"You mean if it was genetically altered?

"Yes."

"They'd need to know how to grow it in the lab. With a qualified biologist, you can produce hundreds, then thousands, then millions of deadly
strains, and given a combination with E. coli, mass contamination becomes
a real risk. The viruses work 24/7, and take no sick leave or vacation. They
are self-perpetuating time bombs that could go off anytime they meet a
human they could infect."

"Is it that easy?" asked Hodson.

"Growing the strains? We need to know first if it was altered."

The interrogator returned to Hodson's office. I couldn't help but notice
that his shirt was stained with a few drops of blood. He told Hodson the
bastard had talked further. The Slaves of Allah had recruited fourteen men
and women working in processing plants throughout the United States.
Fazal didn't know specifics, no names or places, just the general plan. The food industry workers would contaminate a foodstuff with small vials of
the altered virus just after pasteurization, but before it was actually packaged. Each worker would receive up to twenty vials. Fazal speculated that
the workers were pawns of a kind, ignorant of the lethal nature of the
virus; they'd been told that lacing the food or drink would result in
nothing more serious than a mild outbreak of food poisoning. And if the
workers became infected themselves, so much the better; they would be
extremely effective carriers because, until they showed symptoms, they'd
continue to work in a food-producing environment. Since the virus would
spread quickly in organic material, then just one vial in an industrial container could contaminate many thousands of food servings.

Hodson's face turned white. "Squeeze the bastard. Get names and
places. I don't care if you make him eligible for disability payments for life
- although he won't need it in the place he's going to. Just get me the
names!"

Hodson then turned to Lynn, his assistant. "I know the Mossad said
that the viruses they gave the terrorists would be dead in twenty-four
hours, but we can't take any risks. These bastards may have gotten viruses
from other sources. The intention is there." He got up from his chair, left
his office, and ran down the hall toward the gathering members of the
task force. He stopped, caught his breath, and said, "Prior intelligence has
been confirmed. They plan to infect the civilian population by lacing
commercially sold food and drink with a deadly virus!"

returned to my office and saw the message light blinking. The message was from Lynn: "Mr. Hodson wants to see you in his office at
three o'clock."

When I walked to Hodson's corner office, I saw two men talking with
him. One looked very familiar, but he avoided my eyes. Hodson didn't
make any introductions. He went straight to business.

My faring squad, I thought. There would be no reward for my breaking
the third message, only a reprimand for removing the papers from the
office. I was quickly rehearsing my defense.

"Sit down," Hodson said almost politely. His manners were only
demonstrated in public, I thought. "Dan, following word I got, I went
through your two-oh-one file and CBI and I see you have a history of
impersonations." He sounded amused.

Since when had they had a 201 file on me? I'd always thought that CIA
201 files contained personal information only on its staff officers or
agents, including any training and operational details, not on people outside the agency. The news surprised me: The CIA must have compiled it
even before our previous joint operation to enable them to give me a
security clearance. Had the Mossad given them a copy of my personnel
file? I found it hard to believe, but still. More surprising was the CBI, a
complete background investigation consisting of a local agency check,
national agency check, and partial background investigation, all of which
were necessary to grant an individual the highest security classification.

"Chasing money launderers needs some innovative and creative
thinking," I said.

"I was particularly impressed by what you did in Germany several years
ago: using an alias so that you could go one-on-one with a crooked German banker and also track down ninety million dollars stolen by a
man using triple identities."

I thought I'd been called in to be berated and now he was singing my
praises?

And who'd told him that? I thought I knew the answer - and he was
standing right next to Hodson.

"Could you repeat the show in a new CA?" He used the CIA term for
"covert action."

So far, so good, I thought. No reprimand. For now. "I'm listening," I said.
The tall balding man was still avoiding my gaze. Of course I knew him,
and I knew why he was avoiding me.

"David Stone told me about the case. I just spoke with him."

David? I thought he'd been keeping his distance from Hodson. So it
wasn't the guy standing next to Hodson who'd talked. "Let me introduce
Eric Henderson of the CIA."

"We've already met," I said. It was the same Eric Henderson, CIA chief
of station in Munich, who'd given me such heartburn on the triple-identity
case. On the other hand, if he'd given me heartburn, I couldn't even begin
to think of what I'd given him.

Eric finally raised his eyes to meet mine. "Hi, Dan. How are things?"
That cold-blooded eel has not changed a bit, I thought. Life just slips over his
skin without leaving a mark. The same tall, receding blond, blue-eyed man
who never gets excited. His tone was as usual - bland.

"Fine, just fine," I said, wondering what Eric's role in this was and
whether he was connected to Hodson's earlier conversation with David.

Hodson started, "We need your help in a field assignment. While
urgent law enforcement efforts are under way in the United States
regarding the bioterror threat, we must continue fighting that war elsewhere as well. Are you ready for some action of the kind you're used to?"

"Go ahead."

"We need to infiltrate, directly or indirectly, into a terrorist group,
probably in Europe. Your English, though fluent, has a slight accent, so
you could pass for another nationality. One thing is for sure, though: You
can't be American or Israeli."

"Does it have anything to do with the deciphered messages?"

A lot to do with them, and with the outcome of the search warrants at
Malik's home and office and his interrogation."

"And Benny's request?" I asked.

Hodson responded, "We spoke with David Stone. We'd like to help
Friedman; it's quite possible we're after the same bad guys."

"Only a possibility? I thought you'd established a connection. Do you
mean to say that there are two different groups using the same name,
Slaves of Allah? What, they didn't trademark it?" My sarcasm escaped
him; not for the first time, or probably the last.