Washington with disbelief.
‘Fuck me!’ he muttered.
‘No thanks,’ Tony Carmello, his younger, dark-haired and ever cheerful deputy said. ‘Washington?’ he asked.
‘Got it in one. We’re up to our armpits in alligators here and now they want us to mount a surveillance operation on some obscure academic who’s writing a book on Islamic architecture and the Silk Road. Another riveting bestseller. I don’t think those dickheads back in Washington would know if a Foggy Bottom bus was up their ass,’ Regan grumbled.
‘Well, not until the people got off,’ his deputy said with a grin, ‘and in the Secretary of Defense’s office you’d have to ring the bell.’ Neither of the CIA men could understand why the politicians and generals in the Pentagon had gone into two wars in the region without enough troops or equipment to do the job, and now the whole of the Middle East was in danger of going up in flames.
‘Who’ve we got spare?’
‘Only the new guy.’
‘Crawford? I don’t think he’s started to shave yet. He’s only been here five minutes.’
Regan’s deputy shrugged. ‘Bit wet behind the ears but he’s all we’ve got left. He has to learn sometime.’
O’Connor leaned back in his chair, thinking about what would be happening out in the field. In many ways he envied agents. Fieldwork had always been his forte and he longed to be back there.
The CIA’s most experienced counter-terrorism officer had no way of knowing, but he would get the opportunity much sooner than he expected, and in a part of the world that was as inhospitable and dangerous as it got.
CHAPTER 15
D r Kate Braithwaite flung her backpack into a corner of her small, ramshackle office in USAMRIID, and flopped down behind a desk that was almost totally covered with files and papers. The wall behind her had floor- to-ceiling bookcases that were crammed with books and file boxes that detailed some of the most deadly pathogens known to man. Weary from the early morning flight, Kate ran her hand through her unruly curls and leaned back in her battered leather swivel chair with a sigh. Her jeans were spotlessly clean but faded, as was her favourite cream-coloured sweatshirt with ‘Sydney University’ written across the front.
The US Army Medical Research Institute for Infectious Diseases, or USAMRIID, had been set up by President Nixon in 1969 to protect America’s armed forces from biological attack. The Fort Detrick campus was nestled in the distant shadow of Catoctin Mountain and the Appalachians on the outskirts of Frederick, Maryland. With the whole country on edge since September 11, USAMRIID’s role had widened and Fort Detrick was under heavy guard. Even so, Kate was pleased to be back albeit only for a short while. The encounter with Maverick and the other chimpanzees had depressed her more than she realised and she’d asked her boss, Professor Imran Sayed, to make one last attempt to have the experiments stopped. With a sigh she began clearing a space on her desk.
‘Goodness! Not tidying up are we?’ Imran Sayed’s smile was warm and genuine. Imran was dressed in an expensive suit, his shirt a soft, understated pink. His olive skin was slightly pockmarked, his short dark hair brushed roughly into place. Imran had a long, aquiline nose, and his tortoiseshell glasses gave him a serious demeanor; his dark eyes were keen and alert. Kate knew that he also possessed a wicked sense of humour, particularly when they were alone. At sixty-three, he radiated the quiet confidence of a professor at the height of his powers. Kate had first met him when she was one of his post-doctoral students at the Yale School of Medicine and she had immediately warmed to him. Despite impressive international recognition for his stunning achievements in the world of virology, Professor Sayed still managed not to take life too seriously.
‘Don’t you start,’ Kate responded with another sigh.
‘How are your charges at the CDC?’ Imran asked more seriously. He had mentored this young scientist right from the start, carefully nurturing her career. After years of working with her he was immediately sensitive to her mood.
‘Still restless. I can’t put my finger on it, Imran, but Maverick in particular seems to sense something’s about to happen.’
‘The alpha male?’
Kate nodded. ‘Because he’s restless, it’s keeping the whole group off balance. It’s crazy, Imran. We’re going to subject these wonderful creatures to insane doses of the virus, yet in all the centuries that smallpox has ravaged the planet there’s never been a single case of that virus infecting the animal kingdom. It doesn’t make sense.’
Imran nodded. ‘I agree, but making sense is not this Administration’s long suit right now. Next time you go down to CDC I’ll come with you to see for myself, although I’m not holding out much hope of stopping this. You will have heard about the new Colonel?’ Imran asked, raising his eyebrows. ‘He’s just sent around a memo demanding key scientists sign an endorsement for the retention of our stocks of smallpox. No doubt they want that as ammunition for the Secretary to wave at a bunch of journalists next time he gets quizzed.’
‘I got mine while I was in Atlanta but I’m not going to sign it. I sent it back with a strong argument for those stocks to be destroyed.’
‘Good for you. I haven’t signed mine either and I’m going to have one last try this morning to get them to see sense. The new Colonel has a daily meeting now,’ Imran said, rolling his eyes.
‘I’d heard that,’ Kate said with a grin, feeling some of her anger dissipate. She would always be grateful that no matter how tough things appeared, Imran invariably managed to make her laugh.
‘For Heads of Departments and senior scientists who have charge of particular programs, so shelve whatever you had planned this morning and we’ll have another go at them.’
‘You want me there? I’m hardly a senior scientist, Imran.’
‘You know more about Variola major than anyone else in this complex, and you can back me up. Besides, it will be good for your education,’ he said with a smile.
‘Do these meetings really include intelligence briefings on the enemy?’
‘Lurking under everyone’s bed apparently and we have to stay alert. Even the lab technicians may not be what they seem.’
‘Sounds like the Colonel was brought up in the Stasi.’
‘Ex-marine. Although I’ve got my doubts about how “ex”. He’s had his office sandbagged. It looks like something out of Desert Storm.’
‘You’ve got to be kidding!’ Kate said, shaking her head.
‘Colonel Cluster is a man’s man.’ Professor Sayed’s nickname for their new boss was destined to stick. ‘And single too. A drop-dead gorgeous blonde like you should be a shoe-in.’
Kate made a face. ‘If he’s even remotely like his reputation there’s a reason people like him are single, Imran.’
‘Ah, but you haven’t met his J3.’
‘Have you all gone barking mad while I’ve been away. What the bloody hell’s a J3?’
‘The Colonel’s new right-hand man, Captain Donald Crawshaw. He’s pretty hot. If things don’t work out with the Colonel, perhaps you two should get together.’
Kate could hear her irrepressible Professor still chuckling as he walked back to his office. She hadn’t had a serious relationship since she’d left her husband, Malcolm, after he had found God or God had found him, she wasn’t sure which. Shortly after his ‘Road to Damascus’ conversion, Malcolm had been elected President of the Young Liberals in her home state of New South Wales. Kate shuddered at the memory of a brief marriage turned into a nightmare by a dangerous mix of religion and politics. To get away she had moved from Sydney and thrown herself into her post-doctoral studies at Yale. Despite a couple of flings ‘Mr Right’ had been elusive. Not that she really
