rogue scientist.
“I guess I’m just naive. I might not have suspected anything wrong if you hadn’t told me.”
“You’re no more naive than I am—and that’s what the government wants. They were counting on reactions just like yours—and mine, for that matter.”
June looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“Weren’t you glad to see those nutcases caught? And put to death? They’ve caused such a horrible number of agonizing deaths, and they’re the ones responsible for all the riots and violence and looting by the black community. That’s what people were thinking about all day; how they were going to get their just desserts. And I’ll bet you that the national commentators hardly even question the story of that geneticist’s death. You noticed they didn’t mention a body, didn’t you?”
June rested her cheek against Doug’s chest while answering. Her voice was so hampered by emotion that he could barely hear her. “I guess you’re right, Doug, once you made me face facts. But do you know what the worst part of it is?”
“What’s that, sweetheart?”
“We’ve known such things were possible for years, but we’ve concentrated more on how suicide bombers, or how maybe an atom bomb or a chemical weapons could be sneaked into the country by terrorists, and as much as ignored how a few geneticists and a bit of money could cause an epidemic killing millions. We should have been monitoring genetic labs all along and maybe prevented this.”
Doug hated to contradict her, but he shook his head. “Yeah, I guess we might have. But June… how could we have stopped this when we haven’t even been able to wipe out meth labs inside our own country or heroin and cocaine smuggling? Hell, we can’t even stop the goddamned oxy pipeline that feeds pseudooxytocin solution to the date rape and pedophile customers. If I ever got my hands on any of those lowlifes that prey on young girls and women I’d probably execute them myself. Especially the ones that seduce kids not even out of elementary school. There’s no worse scum on earth.”
“I’d take my turn with those, too. Let’s change the subject, Doug. This is too depressing.”
“Fine by me. Shall we talk about how pretty your eyes are? Or how much I like it when you tell me you love me?”
June blinked. Her lips parted as she remembered fairly screaming the words during the throes of her last orgasm. A visible blush appeared on her face and neck. “Did I say… yes, I did, didn’t I? Oh, goodness, Doug, I…”
Doug pulled her to him and kissed her as thoroughly as he knew how. “I think I’ve fallen in love with you, too. How did it happen so fast?”
“I don’t know, but you make me feel like… like this was ordained to happen. Does that make sense?”
“It does to me, and we’re the only ones that count, aren’t we?”
June nuzzled his neck. “Yes. But kiss me again, just to be sure.”
He did. She was sure.
“Wait, wait! You can’t kill me! I’ll talk! I know who…”
“Fire!” the officer called loudly, his sword sweeping downward in a precise arc. Rifles firing in unison drowned out Rafe’s last words. His body slumped forward against the restraints and hung from the pole, lifeless. A physician moved onto the courtyard. As quickly as Rafe was pronounced dead, the doctor retreated and it was the next prisoner’s turn to die.
Reading the charges, the sentence, then the execution and pronouncement of death of the five white supremacists took a long time, just as planned. The president had been the one to suggest that the executions be stretched out so that the scene of their punishment would stick with the audience, both live and to those watching the broadcast. He watched the first two himself, then got back to business.
There were only three persons present in the underground bunker beneath the big military base near Tel Aviv; Yitzhak Luria, the premier of Israel, Sheila Goldblatz, his Chief of Staff and General Yael Rabin, the highest ranking man in the Israeli armed forces.
Yitzhak Luria’s ancestors were a mixture of Eastern European and second generation Sabra settlers. He was short, stout and known among his intimates for his cut-throat brand of poker. He was proposing to play poker now on a grand and unprecedented scale. “We’ll never have a better opportunity than right now,” he said, his voice level and determined. “No matter what we do, or how many peace treaties we sign, the Arabs are determined to wipe us out. This is our chance to end the threat for all time.” He stared forcefully at the other two persons in the absolutely secure bunker. Meetings here were never recorded and Luria never brought an aide with him, nor allowed others to do so.
“Iran and Pakistan have nuclear weapons,” Goldblatz said bluntly. “What if they decide we’re behind it and retaliate? No, let me rephrase that:
Luria felt the satisfaction welling up inside him. Goldblatz hadn’t been angered or horrified at the very mention of his proposal. Instead, he saw the remnants of the beauty which had once graced her face become brighter and more apparent. Luria turned to Yael Rabin. “Yael? What about it?”
General Rabin slouched lower in his chair and lowered his gaze, a peculiar posture for a general, but Luria knew he did it when he was giving serious consideration to a subject. His forehead below the widow’s peak of silvery white hair wrinkled in thought. He remained silent for long moments before responding.
“Iran is no problem. We know exactly where their nukes and missiles are and how to take them out.
Pakistan? Maybe. No, I’ll call that probably, depending on how much time I have to nail down the locations. And I’m sure you realize we’ll have to do a preemptive strike on both countries as soon as we set the virus loose, as well as Egypt, Syria and Jordan.”
“Why so soon?” Goldblatz asked, brushing a straying lock of hair from her forehead.
“Think about it. Their biologists aren’t dumb and you know they recruited scientists from Russia after the USSR disintegrated. We know they’re still working in Egypt for certain, and probably in Iran. As soon as lighter skinned Arabs start dying, they’ll realize we instigated a new epidemic and strike back at us, just like we would if our positions were reversed.”
“All right, let’s say we decide to do the preemptive strike right after infecting as much of the Middle Eastern population as possible with the virus… what if they have one of their own?”
“You mean a virus targeted toward genes specific to Jews?” Luria asked.
Goldblatz shrugged her shoulders. The movement was barely visible under her jacket and sweater. The bunker was always cold and she had come prepared. “If we can do it, so can they.” She knew the Jewish population was particularly susceptible to a virus that went after particular genes. Jews carried a number of unique genes simply by through long centuries of marrying only their own people.
Luria let a thin smile cross his face. “Don’t worry about it. We have a ringer in the Egyptian’s biowar weapons development center and they pass information around. They don’t have anything like the Harcourt virus yet, or like the one we’ve had for years that can target Arabs. They are doing their damnedest to develop one, though. Which is why I say strike now, while the world is preoccupied with all the blacks dying and we have the chance.” He paused then added what he thought would be the clincher. “The good thing about our bug is that it targets not just the Arabs, but all the Middle Eastern countries.”
“How so?” Goldblatz asked, as a new worry suddenly occurred to her. “How about our own Arab citizens?”
Luria shrugged. “It will get a lot of them, true, but it’s a price we can pay. There’s a lot of Arab sympathizers among them, you know. That will solve another problem.”
“Even so, the world won’t take kindly to this, Yitzhak. And a preemptive strike will initiate a war with all the Arab and Middle Eastern countries. America won’t help us this time, not if they know we instigated the new virus.”
Luria turned to Rabin. “General?”
