The same careful, detailed work had also gone into all other aspects of the Project-the selecting of candidates for survival, the long-range targeting and control of influential officials worldwide to ensure the Project would remain hidden and unhindered, the planning and preparation for after, and the development of the virus itself and its vaccine for those chosen.
With the start of the implementation phase, they had reached a point where everything was just logistics and coordination.
“What’s the problem?” the DOP asked, his voice traveling straight from the microphone in front of him into the ear of the man at the Australia desk, four rows away.
“A ship with fifty IDM packages and one with thirty were delayed by a storm in the Indian Ocean. They’re scheduled to arrive in the next two days. Our contractors in Sydney and Perth have added extra manpower to make sure they get to their destinations within twenty-four hours after offloading.”
The time frame was still well within implementation parameters.
“All right,” the DOP said. “Next.”
The image switched to Southeast Asia, where a combination of several methods would be used throughout the area. Singapore, Malaysia, Indonesia, Thailand, and Vietnam would be dealt with using IDMs. Since Singapore itself was so small, four of the five containers assigned to it would remain right at the harbor, while the other would be on the back of a truck driven to Sembawang on the far side of the island.
Other areas, in places like Phnom Penh in Cambodia and Vientiane in Laos, would mostly be handled by teams of locals using handheld sprayers they’d been told were targeting the malaria-carrying mosquito population.
Which brought them to Burma.
Though the country had started to open back up to the world, its leaders were still highly suspicious. Chances were, at the first sign of a worldwide infection, they would seal the borders. A few carriers might sneak in, and some people might get sick, but the government would undoubtedly terminate them before more could be infected. Getting IDMs into the country wasn’t going to be possible. They had tried to get permission for their anti-malaria spray, even offering to pay for everything themselves, but the Burmese generals who ran things wanted nothing to do with it.
So a third method would be employed. It was the same method that would be used in other troublesome areas like North Korea, Iran, several of the former Soviet Republics in the south, and much of the Middle East: modified passenger planes, painted to look like a local airliner, complete with correct transponder codes. Only instead of passengers, the planes would be carrying more than enough of the virus to drop a fine mist down over the targeted areas.
No nation would be immune.
“Any issues?” he asked.
“Nothing major, sir,” the Southeast Asian supervisor said. “A few local labor problems, money mainly, but we’re taking care of it.”
“And Burma?”
“Planes are in position and ready to be loaded.”
“Good.” The actual loading of the virus would not occur until a few hours before the final Go signal was transmitted.
They worked their way through Southern Asia, the Middle East, Africa, and Europe without any major problems. In the North American report, the DOP was pleased to hear that one of his pet methods of distribution was prepped and ready to go. One of the Project’s front companies had purchased a produce company that created, among other things, specialized produce misters for grocery stores. These misters included cartridges that enhanced the spray so that fruits and vegetables would stay fresh longer. Come Implementation Day, the cartridges-now all ready to go-would replace the standard cartridges the stores were currently using.
Central America went quickly with a no-problem report.
The next satellite image up was South America.
The DOP asked his standard question. “Anything?”
“Not…really, sir.”
The DOP turned from the screen to the desk where the South American rep was sitting. “That sounded like something to me.”
“Just a little issue we’re dealing with.”
“What?”
A pause. “We received a sensor fault on an IDM in Buenos Aires. It’s probably nothing.”
“What kind of fault?”
“The top hatch. One of the sensors was registering a downward stress. But on the next check, everything was fine.”
“Is this the first time?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Explanation?”
“Like I said, sir. I think it was just a fault.”
“But…”
“But I’m sending someone to check.”
“Good.”
Another hesitation. “The closest person with clearance is in Caracas. I’ve told him to get down to Buenos Aires as soon as he can.”
It probably was just an electronic glitch. There’d been a few others. Frankly, the DOP was surprised there weren’t more. With a massive global operation, technical issues were bound to happen. “Keep me posted.”
“Yes, sir. I will.”
“Next.”
The image was replaced by one of the Pacific Islands.
16
I.D. MINUS 8 DAYS
Eight people. That was it.
It seemed so insignificant, microscopic even, especially when compared with the billions they were trying to save. But after going over everything again and again, it was decided that was all the resistance could spare for the mission to Bluebird. The argument was also made that with every additional team member, the risk of discovery would increase exponentially. If that happened, it was extremely possible the Project would order the immediate release of the virus into the world.
Though Ash had understood both positions, he didn’t have to like them. As way of compensation, Matt let Ash choose all but three of the team. The first of the exceptions was-as Ash had already known-Pax. Ash would have chosen him anyway. The other two were members of one of the Arctic search teams-the same duo who had discovered the highly suspect wreckage of yellow team’s boat.
That left four positions for Ash to fill. Tom Browne and Pat Solomon had shown their worth at the Bluff, though Tom really hadn’t needed to prove anything after what he did for Ash earlier that year. On Tom’s recommendation, Ash also included a man named Casey Nolan, known apparently to most people as Red.
“That’s seven,” Matt said when Ash gave him the names.
“You know who I want for number eight.”
Matt smiled. “Yeah, I guess I do.”
“And where will I-”
“Just outside San Diego. Pax will have the info.”
It took three full days to get all their equipment together and compile as much intelligence as possible. It could have easily taken three more, but they all knew they couldn’t afford any more time. Ash spent that final night in the room his kids were sharing. He lay on the floor listening to them sleep before finally nodding off himself.
At three a.m., his phone vibrated with the alarm he had reluctantly set. He slipped out from under his blanket, pushed himself up, and walked quietly toward the door.
“Be careful,” Josie said.
She was lying on her bed but her eyes were open.
He went back to her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t wake me. I haven’t slept yet.”
“Oh, sweetie. You need to sleep.”
She tried to smile, but failed. “I didn’t…want to miss when you left.”
He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. “I love you.”
“I love you, too, Dad.”
“Keep an eye on your brother.”
“I will.”
He went over to Brandon’s bed and kissed his sleeping son’s temple. “I love you, buddy.”
As he reached the door, Josie said again, “Be careful.”
Not wanting to lie, he said, “I’ll do my best.”
The four other members of the team who were at the Ranch met Ash in the kitchen for breakfast. Matt and Rachel were there, too. There were no big speeches. In fact, few words were spoken at all.