Jarvis nodded, turning slowly as he did so, and then his eyes settled on the United Nations Headquarters Building, the flags of its one hundred ninety-two member states arranged in alphabetical order in front of the building, fluttering on their high poles.
And a sudden, terrible realization shot through him.
‘I’ve got to go.’
Jarvis clicked off the phone as he struck out across 46th Street toward the UN Building, glancing at his watch and hoping against hope that he was wrong. He dialed another number, this time getting Butch Cutler on the other end, sounding as though he was traveling in a vehicle.
‘Doug? What’s the story?’
‘Get the New Mexico sheriffs office and get them into the SkinGen building as fast as you can. We’ve got the evidence you need, but there’s no time to collate it all and present it to the attorneys. Just go in and find out what the hell they’ve been up to in there.’
‘Any idea what they’ll be looking for?’ Cutler asked.
‘Tissues belonging to a victim of the 1918 Spanish Flu pandemic,’ Jarvis said as he jogged down the street. ‘I think Donald Wolfe’s planning to infect the United Nations General Assembly during his speech there. I need to know how he might do that.’
Butch Cutler didn’t reply for what felt like a long time as Jarvis jogged toward the vast edifice of the United Nations General Assembly, wishing with every step that he exercised more regularly.
When the reply came, it was tinged with horror.
‘There’s only two ways he could do it,’ Cutler replied. ‘It’s either going to be in the air, or it’s going to be in the water. My guess is he’ll infect the water that they’re drinking, either through the water supply or directly into their glasses somehow. Viruses don’t survive long in the open air.’
‘Got it.’
Jarvis shut off his phone and broke into a run toward the north entrance of the complex that opened onto a landscaped plaza, where the curved façade of the General Assembly Building and its rows of international flags loomed. Translucent glass panels set into marble piers gave the public lobby a subdued glow as Jarvis burst through the doors and found himself surrounded by memorials to men who had worked, or even sacrificed their lives, for world peace.
He headed for the stairs that led to the second-floor ceremonial entrance to the General Assembly Hall, passing a huge stained-glass panel, symbolic of man’s struggle for peace and dedicated to the memory of Secretary-General Dag Hammarskjöld and others who died with him in a plane crash in 1961. Adjacent to the panel were four bronze plaques commemorating members of the Secretariat who had died in the line of duty while serving the United Nations. Nearby, a facsimile of the United Nations Charter stood proudly, and Jarvis felt a nausea descending on him as he realized that such a building was about to become the latest stage for an act of international terrorism.
He rushed up the stairs, praying his heart wouldn’t give out as he passed a Foucault pendulum, a gift of the Netherlands Government, offering visual proof of the rotation of the earth, suspended from the ceiling above the stair landing connecting the lobby with the second floor.
He had almost reached the entrance to the Assembly Hall when two uniformed security guards stepped out and caught him between them in mid-stride.
‘I’m sorry, sir, but you can’t enter the hall right now.’
Jarvis gasped for breath as he wheezed a response.
‘You don’t let me in there, right now, half of the world’s leaders will be dead within a week.’
‘Of course they will, sir.’ One of the guards smiled and rolled his eyes at his colleague. ‘The assembly is in a closed session, and you’ll have to wait until it’s finished before you can save the world.’
Jarvis gathered his breath and slipped his identification card from out of his jacket pocket.
‘Doug Jarvis, Defense Intelligence Agency,’ he rasped. ‘You don’t help me, I’ll have you both reassigned to a radar station in goddamned Labrador within twenty-four hours!’
The security team looked at him curiously.
‘Where’s your evidence?’ the taller of the two demanded.
‘It’s being collated,’ Jarvis replied. ‘There’s no time for this. We need to—’
‘The hell we need to do anything,’ the guard replied. ‘We have our own security force, and this building is secure. You got a problem with that take it to my boss, but there’s no way in hell I’m letting you in there without a damned good reason.’
Jarvis stared at the guards in despair for a long beat, then turned away and dashed toward the adjoining Conference Building.
60
Colonel Donald Wolfe stood in full military uniform amidst almost a thousand dignitaries milling about near the entrance to the General Assembly Hall as he glanced at his watch for the fifth time in ten minutes. World leaders surrounded him, talking through translators and to a small number of television crews allowed access to the United Nations complex. He stood for another five minutes, fielding questions from the British Prime Minister, before he finally slipped away into an annex and pulled a cell phone from his pocket that he’d bought for cash two days previously. He would dispose of it as soon as he’d finished.
He punched in a number from memory and listened to the ring tone warbling in his ear for several long seconds before finally a man’s voice answered.
‘Donald?’
Wolfe spoke slowly and clearly, aware that the line was most likely protected by levels of encryption far more advanced that even his own at Fort Detrick: Bilderberg’s most powerful attendees took no chances with their anonymity.
‘It is time,’ he said. ‘Oppenheimer is in position and ready to strike, as are my men. I only need you to give me the go-ahead and assurance of my security.’
The voice replied, calm and in control. ‘Everything is in place, Donald. As soon as you order your men in, your role in this will be unidentifiable. We will contact you directly at the next Bilderberg meeting once everything has been achieved and the dust has settled. By then, everyone will have forgotten about Jeb Oppenheimer and his crusade.’
The line went dead in Wolfe’s ear. He immediately punched in a second number and waited for the line to pick up.
‘Hoffman.’
Red Hoffman was breathing heavily, as though he were slogging his way up a hill.
‘What’s your status?’ Wolfe asked without preamble.
‘We’re within two miles of them,’ Hoffman said under his breath. Wolfe could hear other footfalls around him, the sound of troops marching. ‘We’ll have everything under control within the hour.’
Wolfe breathed a sigh of relief.
‘As soon as you do,’ he said with finality, ‘obtain a live subject and leave the area. There must be absolutely no witnesses. Do you understand?’
Hoffman’s reply was brisk and uncompromising.
‘Understood, sir.’
‘Bring the subject back to me as soon as you have them, in person.’
‘Will do. Hoffman out.’
The line went dead. Wolfe shut the phone off, unclipped its rear panel and slipped the SIM card out from within. He tossed it onto the floor and smashed one heel down on the delicate card. Then, he slipped the untraceable cell phone into his pocket and turned, striding across the chamber toward the exit.