“Please excuse me for interrupting, Professor, Dr. Crawston.”
“My good man, I didn’t notice you there!” Jennian-Jones was taken by surprise. “May I be of assistance?”
“May I have a word with Dr. Crawston?”
“Certainly, old chap. I must dash anyway — another lecture. My dear Evangeline, it was lovely seeing you again and I will be in touch.” With that the professor hurried away, and Lilburn turned his attention to Dr. Crawston.
Evangeline was curious… and looked coolly at the stranger. Closer up, she could see he was in his early thirties. She raised an eyebrow. “And I thought there weren’t any Americans in the room?”
Caught out. His accent. “Ah, yes… I have to confess I didn’t want to intrude on your lecture. I’m not a student…”
“Really! I would never have noticed. So why are you here, Mr…”
“Lilburn, Matt Lilburn. Homeland Security, Dr. Crawston. Please call me Matt.”
“Hello, Matt. And you must call me Evangeline.” Homeland Security?
“I need to speak to you urgently… is there somewhere we could talk privately?”
While Evangeline had business to attend, there was nothing urgent. “One would assume an American drinks coffee?”
“I’ve been known to have a coffee or two.”
“Arabica or Robusta?”
The reference to coffee beans was lost on Lilburn. “Instant, nice and fresh, straight from the jar.”
Evangeline giggled. As her face lit up, Lilburn couldn’t help noticing her perfect English complexion. God, she was beautiful.
“I’ll tell you what, Matt. I know this wonderful coffee house not far from here, they make the most delightful coffee, and it would be perfect for a… meeting. Would you care to join me?”
“Lead the way, ma’am.”
Evangeline guided Lilburn through the cobbled streets, a maze of majestic buildings, and a mixture of old and new.
“Are you interested in history?”
Lilburn had no inclination to put himself offside with his assignment. “For sure.”
“I am, I can almost feel the presence of the people who have walked here before me. Did you know this university is the third oldest in England?”
“No.” Lilburn wasn’t great on small talk.
“Yes, King’s College was first established in 1829 on the banks of the River Thames. Many famous people have graduated here… Clarke, Hopkins, Maugham.” Evangeline glanced towards her new acquaintance; famous alumni and grand architecture clearly hadn’t had the same effect on the American by her side — otherwise he would have reacted to her clearly false description. So he had no knowledge of who she had mentioned. Not an academic. Evangeline decided to stroke his pride with a name he must know. “And of course the Archbishop Emeritus of Cape Town, Desmond Tutu, is also a King’s alumnus.”
Evangeline could almost see the relief on his face when he finally recognized a name. “Really? No, I didn’t know that… you don’t say.”
Five minutes later, after walking down the Strand with its tall gray buildings, mostly black London taxis and red double-decker buses, Lilburn longed for a less claustrophobic atmosphere.
“Here we are, my all-time favorite coffee house.” Evangeline entered the doorway leading Lilburn into an older café with a rich aroma of freshly ground coffee. A waiter with a strong Italian accent immediately greeted Evangeline. “Dottoressa Evangelina, magnifico! Whata surprise to see you again! Ah bella, it has been much too long!”
“Alessio,” Evangeline dipped a shoulder and gave a delightful laugh. “How wonderful to see you again. I couldn’t possibly visit King’s without some of your intoxicating coffee.”
“Come, come, I have your table ready.” Alessio yelled out an instruction in Italian to a waiter who quickly cleared a table for two next to a window looking out to the street. “I see you ’ave brought a friend.” Alessio politely nodded to Lilburn. “Have you taken Alessio’s advice and formed a collegamento romantic?”
“Alessio Bavetta! This is a new conoscente professional, I’ll have you know.”
“I canna but try. Welcome, welcome.” Alessio showed his guests to the table, and with gentlemanly aplomb helped Evangeline into her chair. “It is a pleasure to meet one of Dottoressa Evangelina’s professional acquaintances.”
“Matt Lilburn. Thank you.”
“Ah, an Americano. Please, let Alessio offer you a special coffee, roasted this morning.”
Evangeline cocked an ear. “What special delight do you have for us today? I hope you’re not slipping and purchasing Robusta…”
“Evangelina! That word is forbidden here,” he waved a finger in jest to his favorite patron. “I have acquired…” He leaned in to Evangeline and whispered, “I have acquired beans from none other than Napoleon’s own trees, the ones he planted at St Helena, the world’s most isolated island. They are magnifico.”
“You didn’t?”
Alessio looked pleased with himself, “Si, bella — and for you and your friend, I will brew them myself.” Without waiting for a reply, he left them to it, as he hurried away to do what he did best: make the finest coffee from arguably some of the world’s most expensive beans.
“I can’t believe it!” Evangeline was beaming, “Napoleonic coffee! Now you must have heard of him!”
“Like Napoleon as in Bonaparte?”
“The one and only. You are about to taste the ambrosial delight of real coffee.”
Lilburn had been briefed that as well as being one of the leading authorities in her field, her work at Plum Island considered among her peers to be exceptionally well researched and enlightening, Dr. Crawston was also known to be a coffee connoisseur. Not that he was here to smell the coffee. Plum Island, eight hundred and forty acres of near flat land one and a half miles off Long Island was the reason. One hundred miles from New York City. Named after the abundance of Black Plum shrubs that cover it, and home to the Animal Disease Center of New York, run by Homeland Security.
“So, Mr. Lilburn, I am still utterly intrigued as to why you need to talk to me.”
“What I am about to tell you is highly confidential.” Looking around to see no one else was in earshot, he continued. “The United States has a situation… a critical situation and I’ve been instructed to ask for your assistance.”
Evangeline sat back in her chair. The man sitting before her now had her professional attention. “Before we go any further, I must ask to see identification.”
“Of course — I wouldn’t have expected anything else.” Lilburn removed his wallet from his rear pocket. Taking out an identification card, he placed it on the table.
“Thank you.” Evangeline looked at the dark-blue card. Along with a rather unflattering photo of the man before her was the emblem of an American eagle with outstretched wings. The wings were breaking through a red ring into an outer white ring containing the words US Department of Homeland Security. One talon held an olive branch with thirteen leaves and thirteen seeds, the other talon held thirteen arrows.
Laying the card back on the table, Evangeline carefully slid it back to Lilburn. “Thank you. Now, how may I assist?”
“We believe an attack on American soil is about to take place — the intelligence is reliable, and our leaders are concerned, to the highest level. While we’re short on specifics the best we can assume is that the attack will be deployed as a disease, and is imminent.”
Scenarios played out in Evangeline’s mind — none of them good. The use of a disease, a biological attack, it could happen anywhere with devastating consequences. “Do we know what disease will be used?”