For an infidel, the Chinese general seemed inordinately willing to aid the jihad. He was offering billions of dinar and invaluable intelligence. His assistance would make Mustaf’s dream, a killing stroke against the West, a reality. It was almost too good to be true.
Since first climbing off the PRC transport jet at Beijing Airport’s military terminal, Mustaf had been given the Chinese military’s version of the “honored guest” treatment. The ride into his sumptuous quarters was in a very nice new Mercedes, windows heavily darkened so that no one could glimpse the lone occupant in the rear seat.
His minder, evidently a high ranking PAIC operative, discreetly informed Mustaf that any needs would be fulfilled, but that he should not venture out of his suite.
When the minder came to escort him to the meeting, Mustaf was more than willing to go. He felt like a tiger in a silk cage. But it had been worth the effort. There was very little chance that anyone would be able to tie his operation with the PRC or with Admiral Suluvana’s revolution.
Mustaf smiled inwardly. The old spy wasn’t being so magnanimous because he had suddenly seen the true path of Allah. His altruism had a hundred hidden catches. But, still, his money and resources were valuable. He was a tool to be used to reach Allah’s goal.
“This will probably be the only time we meet,” General Liu Pen continued. “The Americans and the Israelis are far too likely to catch some hint if we ever come face-to-face again. Our communications must be infrequent and circumspect.”
The General slowly looked at each of the other two men in the room. Admiral Suluvana was watching through carefully hooded eyes. There was no way to tell what the Indonesian was thinking behind that opaque mask.
Liu Pen turned toward Mustaf and said, “I think we have found a weapon to unleash on the West that will exact the blood revenge you demand. It is near perfect and, once we are finished, even you will be satisfied.”
Mustaf leaned forward, his attention drawn toward the General. His purpose was obvious; to keep the West occupied while China pursued her own goals in relative freedom.
It required all of Mustaf’s will power to suppress the grin. China could do whatever she wanted, as long as she gave him the weapons he needed. Rachel would be avenged! The West would pay!
“We have come across a strain of mousepox that has been isolated and mutated by a group of Australian scientists,” General Liu Pen continued.
Admiral Suluvana snorted, “You called us to Beijing to tell us you had discovered a way to make mice sick?”
General Liu Pen raised his hand and smiled faintly. “Admiral, please allow me to continue. What I am explaining is every bit as subtle as employing those new KILO submarines we gave you.”
Suluvana sat back quietly. The veiled threat didn’t escape him. The PRC was supplying him with his weapons and could just as easily stop.
“As I was saying,” Liu Pen went on. “The Australians mutated the mousepox during their research. The strain they developed was absolutely immune to any known antidote. We now have a few grams of that virus and, more importantly, a scientist who says he can transfer the genetic structure to a smallpox virus.”
General Liu Pen turned to face Admiral Suluvana directly. “Now, Admiral. Do you see where our target is a little more than a few sick mice?”
Mustaf could barely grasp what he was hearing. Smallpox had nearly eradicated mankind several times since the Romans ruled the world. The disease was a horrible scourge, killing millions over the last millennia. Modern science had only brought it under control in the last century. Bio-weapons engineers dreamed of using smallpox as the perfect bio-weapon, but until now the weapon and the antidote had been in perfect synchronization.
Now some hapless Australian scientists had found a way to make a totally incurable strain. A weapon capable of destroying most of mankind, a weapon totally without defense.
It was perfect. Revenge was within his grasp. Smallpox had been declared eradicated nearly a generation ago, except for some strains ostensibly kept “for science.” Even the vaccination programs had been closed down years ago. A few medical facilities were rumored to maintain some stocks of the vaccine as a precaution, but not nearly enough for an epidemic outbreak.
“You say this stuff, this mousepox, is immune to all antidotes?” Mustaf questioned. His eyes glistened as he rapidly shot out his inquiries. “How virulent is it? What is the death percentage? How contagious?”
Liu Pen held up his hand to stop the verbal onslaught. “There is still some research to complete and some production to finish before the mousepox is ready to use. Then we will be able to answer all your questions with operational proof.”
He smiled toward Mustaf, an evil grin that even stopped the Palestinian terrorist. “For obvious reasons, we can’t do this in China. We need a location where we can absolutely control the security; a place that allows us easy access.”
Suluvana brightened. “I have the perfect place, a tiny island in the Java Sea. Totally uninhabited now, there used to be a small mine there. Bauxite, if I remember correctly. The place is called Nusa Funata. I really pity anyone we put on it. Nothing but mangrove swamp surrounding a mountain jungle.”
“Perfect,” Liu Pen nodded. “Have it ready to go
