“My fellow Americans,” he began, radiating charisma, “I speak to you tonight on a matter of grave national emergency. The people of the United States are under attack from a foreign agency.”
He paused for effect, letting the words sink in.
“Everyone is aware of the mysterious and tragic diseases which have struck a number of towns across the United States,” he continued. “From the beginning, all agencies of government were placed on a priority basis to discover the cause of these baffling ailments. All agencies. This morning, at approximately 7:00 A.M… Eastern Time, the break came. The Federal Bureau of Investigation conducted a raid on a cabin in the Sierra Nevada Mountains of California where several wanted terrorists of international repute were reported to be. Those terrorists, which included some of the wickedest and most insidious minds possible in the human race, were indeed there. All were either killed or captured. They resisted with such fanaticism, though, that it is possible none will survive the results of their resistance.”
Again the pause, the slight shift.
“Inside their cabin,” he went on, “were found mysterious containers and some papers indicating their familiarity with at least one of the towns stricken by the mysterious disease. The contents of these containers, now under analysis by the National Disease Control Center of the Department of Health and Welfare, contain bacteria—a germ, if you will—that all of our scientists are convinced is responsible. The conclusions are obvious. Someone, some foreign power, is using germ warfare against us.”
He sat back, aware of the stir, even the panic that he’d just caused. But his timing was perfect.
“Now, there is no cause for panic. So far they have limited their vicious attacks, and we received a lucky break in the raid. We’re on to them now. Your morning newspapers will be printing photographs of the known terrorists connected to the ones in the raid this morning; your local newspeople will be on immediately following this broadcast to give you methods and procedures, and to show you what to look for. All law enforcement personnel are receiving even more intensive training. More, it is a bacteria, like the germs that cause most human ailments. Shortly we will have the information we need to produce some sort of serum, or antitoxin, for your protection, and this will be distributed freely to every human being in the United States. H W Secretary Meekins is even now mapping out the tremendous job of making certain you are protected and quickly.”
He paused yet again, then flashed his confident look for assurance.
“In addition, I have this evening created a Special Presidential Task Force to coordinate the battle against these agents of terror. We will strike at them. We will catch the terrorists and give them what they deserve. We will have a means of combating their dirty germs. And we will find the source of this terror and neutralize it. We will win.”
A last pause, and then he turned and looked out beyond the camera. “I’ll take your questions now.”
There was instant pandemonium as the members of the press clamored for attention. “Mr. Ackroyd,” the President said, and the others quieted for a moment.
“Mr. President,” came a voice familiar to millions, “are you planning any additional measures to make sure these agents don’t strike again?”
He nodded. “I will ask the Congress tomorrow morning to declare a state of national emergency,” he told them. “We must have extraordinary enforcement measures, you understand. But I feel certain that the public and Congress will understand and allow some additional latitude in their own interests.”
It went on and on. Somebody in Conference Room A at Fort Dietrick, near Frederick, Maryland, got up and switched him off.
“Why do I feel like you just committed sacrilege?” quipped an elderly woman, Georgianne Meekins, Secretary of Health and Welfare.
General John Wood Davis, who had turned the TV off, grinned wickedly. As Chariman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff he didn’t worry much about how others saw him.
He resumed his seat and looked around. “Who’s missing?” he asked.
At that moment a door opened and a small figure walked in. The military guards closed the door softly behind him.
Dr. Sandra O’Connell looked up in surprise. He was well dressed this time, clean-shaven and distinguished, but he still had that foul cigar and he was still ugly as sin.
Jake Edelman smiled, nodded to her, and took a chair.
Davis nodded in satisfaction and began.
“As you all know, this task force has a nearly impossible task before it,” he began. “We are under attack, yes—but by whom? The Russians? The Chinese? Who?” He looked at a distinguished appearing gray-haired man two seats down, and everyone else followed his gaze.
“The CIA has pulled out all the stops on this one, but nothing,” the Director of Central Intelligence told them. “Russians? No, I don’t think so. True, some of the radicals in the Wilderness Raid came from Cuba, but they were definitely not trained and equipped there, and our people inside the Cuban government are positive that the Cubans know no more about this than we do. They’ve been falling all over themselves reassuring us on that point. There’s nothing to contradict them so far. It’s true the Russians and Chinese have germ warfare programs—don’t we all, really, despite the treaties?—but we have them pretty well covered. Nothing like this, no tests, no top people unaccounted for or on super projects. And the way their governments are reacting makes us feel that they are either as scared as we are or are putting on the best act in history.”
General Davis frowned. “But the blue cylinders—they are of Bulgarian manufacture, are they not?”
The DCI nodded. “Yes, they are. They are used for the storage of freon and other specialized industrial chemicals. But it’s a dead end there. All of these cylinders were part of a foreign aid deal with Chad, and were filled with agricultural chemicals when they left. The shipment was bound for Lagos, Nigeria, and it got as far as the harbor. There it vanished.”
Davis’ raised eyebrows asked the question.
“Lagos harbor’s been notorious for thirty years for piracy,” the DCI explained. “It’s never been properly enlarged, and ships sometimes sit stacked up for days or even weeks waiting their turns to unload. Sometimes men come in small boats, over-power the crew—or use bribes or threats—and steal various things off the ships. In this case, they stole the blue cylinders.”
“How many?” Jake Edelman’s dry nasal voice cut in.
The CIA man looked uneasy. “Nine hundred sixty,” he said.
That stirred all of them.
“And how many do you figure have been used so far?” Sandra O’Connell asked, not caring who answered.
“There were a dozen of them in the cabin,” Edelman told them. “Five were empty, so we can infer that Boland took five. The other target was not yet hit, I don’t think—we’ve had the watch on them longer than three days. So figure five and a spare per town hit. What have they hit? Five, six towns? Figure over nine hundred left at least, assuming they all have the germs in them.”
That upset them, even the unflappable General Davis. He looked at Sandra O’Connell. “Doctor, what about your end?”
She considered what to say. “Dr. Spiegelman and his team have been working non-stop on this. We don’t know all the answers yet, particularly not how it works and why it isn’t in the body, blood, or tissues by the time its effects appear. All I can tell you is what we do know.”