“Brian tells me you are intensively involved in the weaponization of lethal viruses. Is that correct, Captain?”
“That is correct, sir.”
“What are you currently experimenting with?”
“Ebola and smallpox, sir.”
“How are they coming along?” His blue eyes fixed on Grace from under bushy black eyebrows that contrasted strongly with a mop of white hair.
“Which in particular, sir?” Grace wondered where all this was leading.
“Let’s start with Ebola.”
“We’ve made good progress in breaking down and separating the main toxins into groups enabling them to be safely capsulized; we are also close to formulating a fast-acting vaccine. What is needed now is to establish a method of effective remote release. At the moment we are looking at low altitude capsule burst, which would allow the virus to spread evenly over the target area.”
The brigadier nodded and turned to the director. “Is delivery working with you?”
“Yes, we’ve given them test pouches, which they are now in the process of testing in a multi-release vehicle that can be fired from a shoulder harness.”
The brigadier returned to Grace. “And the smallpox experiments?”
“The monkeys are dying rapidly,” Grace answered. “So far our test drugs seem to have no effect. Animals injected with the tried and tested antiviral drugs survived natural monkey pox, but those given engineered monkeypox after administering the same antivirals fell like ninepins. The poxvirus is overwhelming the vaccine.”
“Engineered monkeypox is the nearest we can get to the human version,” Stanhope interjected. The brigadier gave him a glance that said, “Not necessary.”
Grace continued. “The Interleukin 4 gene is a cytokine, a protein that nullifies the immune system against the engineered pox. Smallpox is possibly the most virulent. However, as you know, this virus has been officially eradicated. It’s possible to engineer a virus to become super lethal, but to my knowledge no one has successfully created, or weaponized, a super virus from smallpox, Ebola, typhoid or any other virus – not officially anyway. In attempting to splice a human IL-4 gene to a poxvirus, we are breaking the treaty.”
“Understood, Captain Seymour,” the brigadier said quietly, a cold smile creasing his features. “Regarding the treaty, we are assisting the Americans. We do not want to be caught with our pants down, do we? Imagine if Russia, China, Iran or even North Korea were able to create a super virus and we did not have a vaccine to protect ourselves.” He paused a few moments allowing what he had said to sink in. Then, “Regarding our own position: if we were successful in finding a vaccine for a so-called smallpox super virus, is there any guarantee it would work on humans?”
“Not unless humans were used as guinea-pigs,” Grace shot back. She had been surprised when ordered to undertake the IL-4 and monkeypox experiments, knowing full well that she was contravening the Biological Weapons and Toxin Convention Treaty signed by America and 140 other countries, including the UK, thus forbidding the development, possession and use of offensive biological weapons – in particular, the smallpox DNA. However, Grace was under no illusion that natural smallpox only existed in Atlanta and Siberia and she had little doubt that smallpox engineering was taking place in other parts of the world. “If anyone has managed to do so and has formulated a vaccine, then they must have tested it on humans,” she concluded.
“That brings me to the point why you are here, Captain Seymour,” said the brigadier, leaning forward in his chair for emphasis. “It has come to our attention that the North Koreans may be developing a super virus that is highly lethal to humans, including a vaccine to control it. Given the unstable nature of the regime, we are concerned they may use it against their enemies, in particular, us.”
“Do we know what type?” she asked, a little shocked.
“Could be any one of the deadlier virals; possibly a smallpox variant. That’s about as near as we can establish.” The brigadier glanced at Stanhope. Grace held her breath. “We need to know what that super virus is and if a vaccine exists.”
“How?” she shot back, now knowing where this was heading, but not wanting to hear it.
“By going into North Korea.”
Grace stiffened. “I’m not trained for field work!” was all she could offer now fully shocked.
The brigadier opened a folder. “Captain, according to these training reports, your fitness levels, weapons handling and endurance tests are above average. We would not have considered you had they not been. No one else has your experience and army training.”
“No one from Medical Services?” she shot back, now almost in panic mode.
The brigadier answered smoothly, “No one with your experience of engineered viruses and, if I may say so, your ethnic background.”
So that was it: her South Korean heritage. She should have guessed. The army had paid for her education and now it was payback time.
He continued. “If we can locate the facility where this stuff is made, we will need someone who can understand what they might find. We believe that person is you.”
Grace’s mind went into overdrive. She raised an eyebrow at her commanding officer. “Am I being ordered to do this, sir?”
The director threw a glance at the brigadier before responding. “This is a volunteer request, Captain. You have the right to refuse. It will not show up on your record,” he replied.
By the very tone of his voice she knew that refusal would have a detrimental effect on her career.
“Sir.” She looked hard at the brigadier. “Do I understand correctly that you do not have a location for this facility?” Grace was now becoming more uneasy about what she was being ordered to do. Christ, she was a virologist, not bloody Rambo.
“We believe the facility might be somewhere in the Hamgyong Mountains.”
“Where, roughly?”
“Somewhere on the northwestern side, near a town called Pyorha-ri, about twenty miles from the Chinese border.”
“Who would I go with?”
“A Special Forces team. They will be responsible for your safety, locating the facility if one exists and, if necessary, destroying that facility.”
Grace was appalled at that last bit. “Sir, with respect, you cannot just blow-up a facility like that; the risk is too great. Viruses could easily escape and if they are of the ‘super’ variety without a vaccine, then God help us all. I would imagine any facility like this would be heavily guarded. To get in undetected would be a feat in itself before even reaching the hot zone, not to mention acquiring the appropriate bio protection. Anyone entering a hot zone without protection, as you well know, will undoubtedly end up experiencing a painful death.”
The brigadier stared at Grace for a few moments before answering with a hint of impatience. “The objective is to get into the facility without conflict; that’s the SAS team’s job. Once in, your job is to either confirm or deny the existence of any lethal super viruses. Only if it is necessary for your escape will destruct tactics be deployed. The whole idea is to be in and out without anyone knowing. Do I make myself clear, Captain Seymour?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Now, tell me: are you prepared to volunteer?”
Grace sat silently for a moment. She looked at the two men and felt a knot of fear in the pit of her stomach. “I will do whatever I can to help.”
2
Frank Ryder awoke as early morning rain battered the windows of his London flat in Norfolk Mansions. He reached for a non-existent packet of cigarettes before realizing he’d given them up. Despite a slight hangover, his brain kicked in and he hauled his naked frame out of the crumpled bed, determined to do his regular run. He quickly donned a tracksuit and joggers and left the flat. The rain sheeted down as he crossed Prince of Wales Drive and entered Battersea Park. Ryder enjoyed running through the park no matter what the weather, especially in the early morning with the wind and the rain lashing at his body. It made him feel alive. When not on assignment, these daily runs served to maintain his fitness, and the isolation gave him time to focus. Early morning running had become a habit since his days with the 1st Battalion Parachute Regiment and then the 22nd SAS. He’d spent many a good time with fellow soldiers, pounding in the driving rain around the Welsh hills, taking regular hikes up Pen-y-Fan, the highest peak in the Brecon Beacons, and putting back a few in the Hereford pubs. Morning runs had become a firm habit; even on the day he was ‘badged’ and handed the sand-coloured SAS beret. Ryder had come a long way since those earlier rough days growing up in Brixton before deciding to join the army at eighteen. Surprisingly, he did reasonably well at school with an aptitude for languages and sport. The army, however, gave him the opportunity to discover his full potential; it gave him discipline and purpose. He learned to channel his newfound energy and knowledge into an effective fighting machine. The SAS gave him the independence he had always craved and, strangely enough, satisfaction despite the fact that killing other humans was part of the job. At twenty-eight, in his current civilian/military capacity, he considered himself to be at the top of his game, finding fulfilment of a kind as a no-holds barred paramilitary operating covertly in some of the world’s most dangerous places.