He switched to Arabic. “You speak Arabic?”
She answered him easily. “I lived in Dubai as a child.”
A wry smile curled his lips, lifting the edges of his mustache. “You speak Arabic like a Beduin.”
“And you speak Arabic like a Palestinian.”
He tipped his head to one side, acknowledging the point. “My family is originally from Gaza.”
“You’re with Hamas?”
He blinked and took a slow swallow of his tea before answering. “My apologies for not introducing myself. My name is Farrah. George Farrah.”
“Ah. So you’re a Christian,” she said. Arab men named George were always Christians.
“We Palestinians were the first Christians, you know,” he said softly. In Arabic, the word for Christian was Masihi, from the Aramaic word for Messiah. He leaned forward, his hazel eyes watching her face. “A hundred years ago, Arab Christians made up 40 percent of the population of Palestine. We are the descendents of the Jews who followed Jesus, of the Canaanites and Philistines who were here before the Jews but followed Christ, too, and of the Romans and Crusaders who came to the Holy Land and stayed. Now…” He spread his hands wide. “Now we are scattered all over the world in our own diaspora.”
He had unexpectedly graceful hands, with fingers that were long and lean and finely tapered, like a musician’s or an artist’s. As she watched his hands, he took another sip of his tea and said, “Why are you interested in Jasha Baklanov?”
“I’m interested in what Baklanov tried to sell you.”
“I didn’t buy it.”
“I know. I’m trying to find out who has it now.”
“That, I can’t help you with.”
Tobie leaned forward, her palms pressing flat against the aluminum tabletop. “The people who originally contacted Baklanov found out he was planning to double-cross them, and they killed him.”
George Farrah nodded. “I had heard he was dead.”
“Do you know who hired the Yalena to raise the U-boat?”
“Jasha never said.”
Tobie wasn’t sure whether he was telling the truth or not. She said, “You can’t tell me anything about them?”
Farrah rolled one shoulder in a typically Mediterranean shrug. “He said something about a Chechen, but he didn’t mention any names.”
“Chechens?” Tobie drew in a quick breath. “Could Baklanov have been dealing with al-Qa’ida?”
Farrah’s heavy brows drew together. “What would al-Qa’ida want with this?”
“Everyone says they’ve been trying to get their hands on a nuke for years.”
He sat back with a bark of laughter that ended abruptly. “Is that what you think Baklanov was selling? A nuclear weapon?”
Tobie shook her head, not understanding. “If it’s not a bomb, then what is it?”
Farrah sat very still. When he spoke, his voice was a harsh whisper. “Something worse. Something far worse.”
Tobie stared at him. “What could be worse than an atom bomb?”
“What could be worse?” He leaned forward, one hand coming up to punctuate the air between them, his lean musician’s fingers delicately curled. “I’ll tell you what would be worse: a biological weapon with the potential to kill two hundred million people or more.”
53
In the sudden silence, Tobie became aware of the fans slowly circling overhead, moving the hot air, ruffling the edges of the napkins on the tabletop before her. She tried to think back to that conversation in the Deutsches U-Boot Museum-Archiv, in Altenbruch. What had Marie Oldenburg said? “He claimed that amongst its other cargo, U-114 carried a secret veapon-what you Americans like to call a veapon of mass destruction.”
Had anyone actually used the word “atomic”? She didn’t think so. They’d heard those dreaded words-weapon of mass destruction-and simply assumed they were dealing with an atom bomb.
George Farrah said, “It’s the ultimate threat Hollywood loves, isn’t it-terrorists armed with a nuclear bomb? Do you know why?” He leaned forward, answering his own question. “Because we all grew up with Cold War tales of an all-out war between the Soviets and the Americans that would obliterate life on earth as we know it. The thought of terrorists with such a weapon taps in to those fears.”
“I don’t know about you, but I find the idea of terrorists setting off an atom bomb in New York or San Francisco pretty scary.”
Farrah sat back in his chair. “Of course it’s scary. The sudden death of thousands is always scary-not to mention the radiation sickness, the contamination. But is it really the worst that could happen?”
When Tobie kept silent, he said, “You Americans killed-what? Two hundred thousand people when you dropped your bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. A sixty-year-old bomb would be even less deadly. It might kill a few thousand-maybe ten thousand. Horrible, yes. But it would be one event. Over. Finished. Whereas, this…” He paused, his arms spreading wide, only to drop listlessly to his sides.
Tobie forced herself to keep her voice calm and even. “What kind of biological weapon are we talking about?”
Farrah shrugged. “According to Baklanov, it was something the Nazis discovered at Dachau-a disease that strikes only those of Semitic origin.”
“What? But that’s impossible.” She hesitated. “Isn’t it?”
“You think so? Look at what European diseases did to the American Indians half a millennium ago.”
“But that was because they had no built-up immunity.”
“True. But there are some diseases, such as sickle cell anemia or alcoholism, that still strike those with certain genetic backgrounds. You are familiar with the story of the Passover?”
Tobie said softly, “On the night of the Tenth Plague, the Angel of Death passed over the houses of the Israelites and spared their firstborn.”
Farrah nodded. “If this disease is let loose upon the world, it will be like the original Passover, only in reverse. And it won’t simply kill each family’s firstborn. It will kill everyone of Semitic origin. Millions of people. Tens of millions.”
She sat very still, torn between disbelief and the hideous realization that he might-just might-be telling the truth.
He said, “There have been many attempts in the last eighty years to develop such things, you know- bioweapons that will target only specific ethnic groups. The Israelis and South Africans have tried it. So have you Americans.”
“I don’t-” She broke off.
A ghost of a smile crinkled the edges of his green eyes. “You don’t believe your government would do such a thing? Look into it. I think you’ll be surprised by what you find.”
She wrapped her hands around her now cold teacup. “When Baklanov offered you this weapon, what did you tell him?”
“What do you think? I want my homeland back, yes. And I want revenge. For the tens of thousands of Palestinians who have been killed in the last sixty years. For the millions more who are dispossessed and homeless. But this weapon?” The man’s eyes were so wide with fear, she could see the milky whites surrounding the irises. “That stupid Russian. He didn’t know Arabs are Semites, too. If this disease gets loose, it won’t just kill the Jews. It will kill the Arabs as well. All of us.”
Farrah’s voice dropped to a whisper as he leaned closer. “Think about it. All across the Middle East, across Europe, across the United States and Latin America, anyone with Middle Eastern ancestors-Jew, Christian or Muslim…All will die.”
“Latin America?”
