Pandemic

areas where the population was growing the fastest were identified. Not surprisingly, the Third World was one of them. Africa had always had a high level of infant mortality, but better food and medicines were beginning to reverse that trend: modern science was actually helping create the problem. In the opinion of many analysts, Africa was on the verge of a population explosion, and somebody was going to have to do something about it, soon. And we did do something about it.’

‘What?’

Nicholson ignored Richter’s question. ‘Voluntary birth control had been tried in Africa, but that didn’t work. The men refused to use free condoms, and the women didn’t bother to take contraceptive pills. So a group of senior Company agents was tasked with finding a covert method of keeping those populations in some sort of check, just to slow down this dangerous growth.

‘We tried impregnating the wheat and other crops we supplied with drugs that would reduce fertility levels, but that seemed to have little effect, so we looked around at other things. Then the Department of the Army came up with what seemed at the time like a possible solution. It was radical, so we needed high-level Government approval before we implemented it.’

‘How high up?’ Westwood asked.

‘The Department of State,’ Nicholson answered.

‘And that was CAIP?’ Richter suggested. ‘What was it?’

‘CAIP was the most important operation the Company got involved in throughout the whole of the nineteen seventies. In fact, it was perhaps the most important covert operation of the whole century, and one day the world will be thankful for what we had the courage to do.’ There was almost a ring of pride in Nicholson’s voice as he uttered these words.

‘What were you bringing out of Africa?’ Westwood probed.

Nicholson looked at him, and shook his head, grimacing. ‘I said it before, your ignorance is total. We weren’t bringing anything out. We were taking something in.’

‘But the aircraft,’ Richter objected, ‘was flying westwards across the Mediterranean, away from Africa.’

Nicholson nodded. ‘Yes, but it was at the end of the mission, not at the start. We knew even then that we needed to cover our tracks, and that’s why we had to order the escorting fighter to shoot it down. The Learjet was supposed to end up in deep water and be lost for ever, but instead it veered off course. I’ve been waiting since nineteen seventy-two for somebody to stumble across it.’

‘So what was it you were taking into Africa?’ Richter demanded. ‘And what does CAIP stand for?’

Again, Nicholson’s voice rose and strengthened. ‘We needed to find a simple name that would be meaningless to anyone not involved. It stood for Central Africa Inoculation Program, and that’s exactly what it was.’

There was a moment of silence that seemed to stretch for an eternity as the two men stared at Nicholson. Then Richter glanced at Westwood, noticed his look of incomprehension. ‘I think I can see where this is going,’ he said, ‘but I just pray that I’m wrong. Tell us what you were injecting.’

Nicholson shook his head. ‘It was a good, simple idea. All we intended to do was reduce fertility levels, bring the population growth under some kind of control. Our only mistake was that we had no idea what the long-term effects would be. It was merely intended to inhibit reproduction – to act as a damper. We never realized—’

‘What were you injecting?’ Richter asked again. ‘What was in those flasks?’

And again Nicholson shook his head. ‘We couldn’t have predicted the long-term results. We should have spent more time on trials before we started the program, but there was a real sense of urgency at this end. We —’

Richter stood up and kicked Nicholson’s shattered thigh. ‘Just tell us,’ he shouted. ‘What the fuck were you injecting?’

Nicholson howled with renewed pain, grabbed again at his leg. He looked up at Richter. ‘You fucking bastard,’ he cried. ‘OK, OK,’ he continued quickly, as Richter stepped forward again. ‘It was an entirely new substance. The Army scientists had spliced a bovine virus onto a sheep virus, and then modified it further. It had just the characteristics we were looking for, so we tried it by using a smallpox vaccination program as cover. It was only a trial run. We were only out there a few weeks before the program was shut down.’

‘Shut down by whom?’ Richter demanded.

‘The authority came from the President himself. I think he was secretly informed about the program by one of the doctors involved in the African trial.’

‘OK, I’ll ask one more time. What were you injecting?’

‘A virus,’ Nicholson said. ‘The strain contained in the flasks was extremely concentrated, a mother strain, and its effectiveness was chemically reduced on site by a factor of over ten billion before we could inject it. That’s why we needed doctors and scientists to carry out the trial. But we never thought—’

‘Oh, Jesus,’ Westwood interrupted, with an appalled expression. ‘Is he saying what I think he’s saying?’

Richter nodded. ‘Yes, but I can hardly believe it. What this bastard means is that in the nineteen seventies some rogue element in the fucking American Army developed AIDS to depopulate the Third World – and a bunch of CIA fanatics filled the syringe for them. It’s no wonder those files were sealed by the authority of the President. If this ever became public knowledge, the CIA would be finished – possibly the American Government too.’

‘Jesus Christ almighty, what the hell do we do now, Paul?’

‘What you do, Westwood,’ Nicholson said, his voice stronger as some of his previous fire returned, ‘is get me proper medical attention to get this leg fixed. Then you give me those flasks and the file. I’ll make sure that the evidence is destroyed permanently. That’s the only option that makes sense. We cannot, under any circumstances, allow word of this to leak out. The damage to America would be incalculable.’

Westwood glanced at Richter, who shook his head and motioned him towards the door. Westwood moved across there and stood watching as Richter picked up the silenced SIG and gazed down at the wounded man.

‘There are a couple of things you should know, Nicholson. This room is soundproof and airtight. The reason we haven’t all suffocated so far is because there’s a closed-circuit air-conditioning system that keeps the air fresh. But because it’s a closed-circuit system it means that any particles that are present in the air stay in the air: only the carbon dioxide is allowed to escape. That’s the first thing.’

Richter put the SIG down on the desk, then dragged the small table across the room and positioned it about three feet from where Nicholson was propped against the wall. Then he moved across to where Henderson’s body lay and picked up the CAIP flask. He held it in his left hand and peered at it for a few moments, as if seeing it for the first time, then he placed it on the table.

‘The second thing is that I believe in responsibility and blame. If your organization was responsible for deploying the AIDS virus in Africa and starting the present pandemic, then your organization should take the blame, either in private or in public. Whether it does or not won’t be my decision, but the evidence should certainly not be simply destroyed. It’s just barely possible that some of the information in the CAIP file, maybe even the concentrated virus in the flasks, might help find a cure for AIDS, and no matter how slim that possibility, that alone is sufficient justification for not destroying it.’

‘But you don’t understand,’ Nicholson protested through his pain. ‘The damage that you could do is—’

‘I’ll tell you,’ Richter cut across Nicholson’s protest, ‘about damage. Anything anyone might do with this information is totally insignificant compared to the damage your repellent scheme has already done, and not just in Black Africa. You simply don’t understand, do you? AIDS could exterminate the entire human race, and it would be your doing.’ His last words came out as a bellow and again he kicked Nicholson hard in the leg.

‘Get out of here, John.’ Richter’s voice was suddenly low and controlled. He waited until Westwood had left the briefing-room and picked up the SIG.

Nicholson was howling with pain, his hands clutching desperately at his bloody leg, but Richter’s face was without pity or remorse. ‘If you have a god,’ Richter spoke in a voice as cold as death, ‘I hope He can forgive you, because I can’t. You are responsible for creating AIDS, so it’s only right that you should die from it.’

‘No, no! Please! We can work this out,’ Nicholson cried out. ‘I’ll hand over everything, I’ll tell you everything I know.’

Richter ignored his sudden pleading. He walked over to the door, then turned and took careful aim. The pistol coughed once and the steel flask on the table bounced into the air. Its side ruptured where the bullet had struck, scattering a dirty brown cloud down towards the injured man. Richter pulled the door closed immediately.