concluded that the Administration had no real idea of the catastrophic implications of their decision to restart the biowarfare program. He had decided that it would be far safer for the whole program, and ultimately perhaps even humanity, if he stuck around to influence things.
‘So you told him no?’ he asked.
‘In a way that there wasn’t any part of “no” he wouldn’t understand,’ Kate replied angrily. ‘I even drew him a diagram, Imran, and explained how science can replicate even the smallest strand of DNA. Didn’t make a scrap of bloody difference.’
‘You drew him a diagram of DNA?’
‘Pentoses, phosphates, pyrimidine bases, the bloody lot!’
Imran grinned, his eyes twinkling.
‘I don’t see what’s funny!’ Kate remonstrated, letting out a loud sigh.
‘I think the diagrams on DNA and polymerase chain reactions might have been a touch superfluous,’ Imran replied, still smiling.
‘Why?’
‘Because although Curtis O’Connor might be a CIA agent he did his honours chemistry thesis on polymerase chain reactions and he’s a Doctor of Science. He did his Doctorate on the probable effects of lethal viruses and biological weapons. He’s one of the few people in the CIA qualified to work in a hot lab.’
Kate put her head in her hands. She could feel her cheeks burning as she pictured Curtis O’Connor looking on at her furious explanations of hydrogen bonding, hydroxyl ions, monophosphates and a raft of other structures. ‘Oh fuck,’ she said softly. She looked up at Imran through her fingers. ‘You’re kidding!’
‘He was awarded his postgraduate Doctorate by the School of Biochemistry and Immunology at Trinity in Dublin.’
Kate shook her head in acute embarrassment. ‘Double fuck,’ she whispered, mortified.
‘Come on,’ Imran said. ‘It’s been a very long day. I’ll shout you dinner at that little restaurant in Foggy Bottom. I could do with a drink too.’
Imran held the wine glass against the white linen tablecloth and inspected the colour. He savoured the bouquet and tasted the wine before nodding to the waiter.
‘One of yours,’ he said, clinking his glass with Kate’s.
‘Pardon?’
‘Australian. A shiraz from Pepper Tree in the Hunter. Winemaker seems to know what he’s doing,’ he said, tasting the dark cherry and blackcurrant flavours.
Kate smiled wanly. ‘Sorry, I’m a little distracted and still embarrassed. I can’t believe O’Connor let me rabbit on like that,’ she said, taking a healthy sip from her own glass. ‘It’s lovely.’
‘Don’t be embarrassed. He isn’t.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Because he called me. He really wants you on this team.’
‘Team?’
‘He’s asked me to come onboard as well and he’s authorised me to talk to you. I’ve given this a lot of thought over the last few hours, Kate. You and I both know that this Administration hasn’t got a clue what they might be unleashing, which is all the more reason for trying to control it. O’Connor’s got a barn full of things on his plate already and he’s not going to be able to oversee what goes on in that lab every day.’
‘Maybe,’ Kate agreed reluctantly. ‘But if he’s so up on all of this how come I’ve never heard of him,’ she said.
Professor Sayed waited until the main course of Chesapeake Bay scallops and crabs in a creamy wine sauce with a hint of parsley was served and the waiter had retreated. Imran had chosen a discreet booth that was to one side of the main restaurant, but even so, he lowered his voice. ‘CIA agents don’t go around advertising themselves or who they work for.’
‘I guess not,’ Kate agreed, ‘and if they come up with reports and facts that don’t support this Administration’s policy the White House will blow their cover anyway,’ she added ruefully. Her cynicism towards politicians who so easily turned on their own was deepening. ‘Do you know O’Connor well?’ she asked, intrigued by the charming and intelligent man who worked in the shadows.
‘Only by reputation, and if that’s anything to go by, he’s one of the best. He’s not only highly intelligent but he’s also one of the few non-Muslims in this Administration who understand that it is not Islam that threatens the West, but the fundamentalists who misinterpret it.’
‘Do you think this Kadeer really wants everyone to be under Islamic rule?’ Kate asked, keen to explore her mentor’s knowledge of a subject she knew little about.
Imran shook his head. ‘Some of his more fanatical lieutenants are convinced that’s the only path. If they have their way, ultimately western countries like the United States and Australia will be taken over by pan-Islam and subjected to Sharia law. To counter that we need ordinary Muslims onside. O’Connor knows that in addition to preparing defences against biological attacks, which is where you and I come in, the key to getting those moderate Muslims onside is to take a more even-handed approach.
‘To Muslim countries generally?’
Imran nodded. ‘Starting with Palestine. Those who support the fanatical view come from desperately poor backgrounds like the Israeli Occupied Territories. The West should have given much more support to the Palestinians,’ Imran explained, ‘because to escape from the misery imposed by the Israelis and the West, young Palestinian men and women are now attracted to madrassas like those on the Pakistan-Afghanistan border.
‘I know very little about Islam,’ Kate admitted, ‘but I’ve sometimes wondered if the Qu’ran encourages suicide bombings.’
‘Quite the opposite, and if you’re interested, I’ll give you one of my Qu’rans. Verse 46 from Chapter 29 in the Qu’ran is called “The Spider”. It should be compulsory reading for anyone who wants to understand Islam, although I don’t want to turn dinner into a lecture on it,’ he said with a smile.
‘You’re not,’ Kate assured him, intensely interested.
Imran quoted the verse. ‘“Do not argue with the People of the Book unless it is in the politest manner, except for those of them who do wrong. Say: We believe in what has been sent down to us and what has been sent down to you. Our God and your God is the Same One, and we are committed to observe peace before Him.” In essence, what Muhammad is making very clear is that Muslims must respect other religions unless the people that profess those faiths attack Islam. Unfortunately the huge numbers of innocent Muslims who’ve been killed since we invaded Iraq is enough to convince even the moderates that Islam is under attack from the West, and particularly from the United States, Britain and Australia.’
‘I think Islam is under attack, Imran. President Harrison’s on the record as saying he’s on a mission from his Christian God and the Australian Prime Minister is backing him all the way.’
‘God’s entitled to be a little confused,’ Imran replied with a grin. ‘Were you ever religious?’
‘My father was and so was my ex. The President would get along very well with both of them,’ Kate said, shuddering at the memory of it all. ‘I agreed with your opinion piece. For me, religion is an accident of birth. If I’d been born in Baghdad, I’d probably be a Sunni or a Shiite or if I’d been born in Jerusalem I might be a Jew. Yet people like Jerry Buffett storm the airwaves claiming that if you’re not a Christian, when the Christian “rapture” comes around, you’re stuffed. What sort of a God would create six billion people, only to condemn most of them in the afterlife?’
‘You think there is an afterlife?’
‘I think there’s a force around us, and forgive me, Imran, but for me it’s not what the various religions call Yahweh or God or Allah…’
Imran waved his hand with a deprecating smile to indicate that far from being offended, he was enjoying the depth of their friendship and conversation.
‘I don’t think you can immerse yourself in what you and I do, Imran, without giving some thought to the exquisitely intricate design of cells that can’t be seen by the naked eye. I don’t think the design of the universe is just some gigantic accident, which is what makes this threat from Kadeer so scary. If he ever harnessed the microscopic world I think it has the potential to destroy the human race.’
Imran nodded. ‘It is hard to get that across to those in power. It underlines the need for negotiation more than ever. Did Curtis mention the Beijing Olympics?’
