to physically check a fraction of them. Like their western counterparts, Chinese customs officials relied on intelligence and tip-offs for interceptions of drugs, pornography and any western publications that might be considered harmful to the State. al-Qaeda’s finances ensured that both Dr Dolinsky and the trunks marked ‘medical supplies’ were driven out off the wharves in a Qingdao Port Authority four-wheel drive without inspection. After a simple vehicle change in nearby Mengzhang Road, Dolinsky and the Ebolapox were taken north through the big Renmin Road roundabout and then east towards the Qingdao Bear Farm 30 kilometres away at the base of Lao Shan in rural Shandong Province.
CHAPTER 87
‘W elcome back guys,’ Curtis said, refraining from giving Kate a kiss on the cheek. He shook hands with her and Imran as they arrived at his office. ‘Coffee? It’s my own machine you know,’ he said, giving Kate a wink.
‘So what’s been happening while we’ve been away?’ Imran asked.
‘Usual suspects on the TV,’ Curtis replied. ‘President Bolton’s closing the gap on Halliwell but if either of those get up it’ll be bad news in my book. I suspect the average American is beginning to get very nervous about Kadeer’s final solution threat and Bolton’s taking a hard line. We’re not getting anything definitive on Beijing but the hooplah is in full swing and the American athletes leave for the Games shortly. How was Singapore and the world of microbiology?’
‘Singapore was a good break but the world of microbiology is more dangerous than ever I’m afraid,’ Imran said somberly. ‘I think we should be suggesting that this program be shut down. Dolinsky’s proved it can be done and we can store his vaccine; that’s been a truly remarkable achievement, but I think the Ebolapox stocks should be destroyed.’
‘I suspect we won’t have much more luck with that than we’ve had with smallpox but we can give it a shot. The DDO’s still tied up, he’ll give me a yell when he’s ready.
‘I grabbed this before I left Halliwell just in case your in-tray gets low,’ Kate said with a grin, retrieving ‘The Halliwell Report’ from her bag and handing it to Curtis. She relaxed back into a chair that would not have been out of place among the relics in Tom McNamara’s office. ‘The latest piece of extravagance to come out of the thirty- seventh floor.’
‘Must have cost a fortune,’ Curtis said, as he idly thumbed through over a hundred glossy pages covered in marketing hype and coloured photographs. A sizeable proportion of them were of Richard Halliwell presenting cheques to charity organisations or hosting luncheons and dinners for visiting dignitaries. He was about to put the report back on his desk when he came to the start of the financial pages. The section began with a letter confirming the outstanding financial position of the company and predicted even greater growth for Halliwell in the years ahead. At the end of the letter was a signature – Dr Alan Ferraro, Chief Financial Officer, but it was the photograph of Ferraro that caught Curtis’ attention.
‘Have you met Halliwell’s Chief Financial Officer, this Dr Ferraro?’ Curtis asked.
Kate shook her head.
‘I’ve been introduced to him very briefly; he works on the floor below us so we don’t have any contact. Why?’ Imran asked.
‘I have the distinct feeling I’ve seen a photograph of this guy or someone very like him somewhere before,’ Curtis said, racking his brain, then he remembered. It was the nose.
‘I wonder.’ With a mixture of anticipation and rising anger at the memory of it all, Curtis turned to his computer and called up the gruesome images of the young agent’s burning car outside the Taliban madrassa in Peshawar. Although Dr Alan Ferraro was no longer sporting a beard, the resemblance was uncanny.
‘Have a look at this,’ Curtis said to Kate and Imran, turning his screen so they could see the images. ‘Some time ago we lost a young agent near Peshawar. We’ve been looking for that guy there,’ Curtis said, pointing to the image of al-Falid’s bearded face and hooked nose, ‘and I’m wondering if Dr Alan Ferraro might also be Dr Amon al- Falid.’
‘There’s a strong resemblance,’ Kate agreed. Curtis knew only too well that al-Falid had left the country on an academic sabbatical but despite extensive efforts to track his return, he hadn’t shown up on any of the Customs or Homeland Security’s crosschecks and Michigan University had never heard of him.
Curtis typed in a request to Homeland Security for a report on Alan Ferraro’s movements in the past two years. Even with the most sophisticated checks, if the two passports had never been matched, it was still possible for someone to leave as Dr Amon al-Falid and return as Dr Alan Ferraro.
CHAPTER 88
O n the front page of Atlanta’s major daily newspaper, The Atlanta Journal-Constitution, two headlines shared the front page: SEVEN DAYS
The advantage of incumbency and the fear of another attack was beginning to tell. President Bolton’s position and rhetoric against Muslim terrorists had moved even further to the right than the tough stance he’d been renowned for when he was Vice President. In many parts of Europe, his refusal to negotiate with anyone who was not with America in the war on terror, including Iran and Syria, was seen as arrogant. He was known as the ‘ugly American’ in Europe but his speeches had started to resonate with the American people who increasingly saw themselves under siege from the rest of the world.
‘Richard Halliwell might have a big smile,’ Chuck Bolton was fond of saying, ‘but this is war and this country needs more than dental floss to defeat an enemy who’s hell bent on destroying our way of life.’
With just five primaries to go, the Republican Convention was going to be won and lost in the next few weeks. The photograph on the front page of The Atlanta Journal-Constitution showed Richard with his arm around Constance, campaigning in Louisiana. He’d dismissed the latest polls but Simone thought he looked to be in trouble and she decided she would give it one last try to get on the team. She picked up the phone and pressed the speed dial for Richard’s mobile.
‘Halliwell.’
‘Richard, it’s Simone,’ she said. Knowing that her name would have come up on Richard’s phone she kept her anger at his curt response in check. ‘I saw the vote tallies and I thought I’d let you know that the offer of help on your campaign is still open.’ Simone couldn’t remember feeling this powerless.
‘How many times do I have to say this, Simone. If it were up to me that would be fine,’ Halliwell said irritably. He wasn’t quite ready to fire her as he needed her to run things back in Atlanta, but the time was fast approaching. ‘I’ve discussed this with Esposito before. He’s given a flat no and you’ve as good as said it yourself, image is everything. I’m running a campaign on family values, and Constance is going to be in every photo opportunity we get. Unless there’s a problem down there, don’t interrupt the campaign.’ The line went dead.
Simone glared at the photograph. Despite Esposito’s instructions, the well-endowed blonde she had seen in some of the earlier campaign photographs was there again, almost out of shot. When Simone had asked what the woman’s role was Halliwell had been defensive. ‘For Christ’s sake, Simone,’ Halliwell had exploded. ‘She’s a political
