When the president terminated the call, the Oval Office was silent. Edgar’s cell rang. He answered, then lowered the phone, looking chagrined.
“The Chinese want an immediate meeting. So does the Indian ambassador.”
“Damn it, Edgar. Figure out what the hell is going on here, and quick, or there isn’t going to be a tomorrow. Tell the ambassadors that I will see them, but buy me an hour, and convene a crisis meeting immediately. I need answers, and I need them yesterday. I just had the leader of the largest nuclear power besides ourselves tell me he was preparing to launch if this virus makes it into the world. They aren’t even asking for anything. Just warning us. I don’t think that’s ever happened before. Not during my lifetime.”
“We need to go onto heightened alert, as well, Mr. President. In response to their elevated status.”
The president nodded wearily. “I know the drill. Make it so. And get everyone together. I suspect we’re about to discover that India and China are also agitated about the same thing. Let’s just hope that by the end of the day we don’t have the entire world turned against us. Because that’s the way it’s starting to look. And for something we didn’t even do.”
Edgar’s phone trilled again. “It’s the British, sir. The prime minister wants to speak to you in fifteen minutes.”
FORTY-FIVE
Damage Control
Thorn was badly shaken from his round-the-clock meetings in Langley, and it was all he could do to manage a quick flight from Washington to New York to see Barker in person in the wee hours of the morning. As the brains behind the virus effort, Barker was the one who would need to understand the catastrophe that had taken place, and it was he who would have to take immediate action. Anything but a complete cancellation of the scheme was a guarantee of nuclear annihilation, and therefore suicide now. A perfect plan had been destroyed; and the worst part was, he wasn’t completely sure how.
Barker agreed to see him at his penthouse in Manhattan, and when Thorn arrived at six a.m. he was shown straight in. Thorn looked like he’d been beaten with a board; whereas Barker, in typical fashion, exuded the healthy glow of the mega-rich, their longevity assured by the best attention money could buy, their sleek, toned, and tucked features those of an elite race, elevated beyond the mere mortals who occupied the lowly gutters of the world. Most of the disparity had to do with the fact Thorn hadn’t slept in twenty-four hours, and that he’d fortified himself for the pre-dawn flight with a double brandy that was now making its residual presence known. Acid bile threatened to gag him as he sat across from Barker, who was sipping a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice and munching on pineapple chunks.
“Tell me what the hell happened,” he demanded, his voice low, the cook in the small service room off the kitchen and his housekeeper somewhere in the depths of the cavernous penthouse.
“I gave you as much detail as I had over the phone. It’s a disaster. Basically, every country we’ve spoken with, including our allies, is saying the same thing. If this virus is released, we’re going to be a glowing crater. Nobody’s buying that it’s all a big misunderstanding. The report is pretty clear that only a major technological and financial effort could have produced this virus. And frankly, the attached data sheets are sophisticated as anything anyone’s found. I don’t think we have any choice but to abort.”
Barker sighed, then nodded. “How? How did it leak?”
“Obviously the analyst had gotten hold of the data and made arrangements for the Pasteur scientists to analyze it. Even in death, the bastard managed to screw us.”
“Are we sure it was him?”
“There’s nobody else. Everyone in the group, in the program, you name it, is a hundred and ten percent loyal and trustworthy. Plus, no one of them had nearly all the data. No, this was a concerted effort, which I suppose we should have foreseen. It’s probably by the grace of God that we didn’t release the virus and then discover, too late, that every country with a nuke would launch in retaliation. Think about it. One more week and it would have been too late to stop this.”
“At great expense, I might add. We’ll have to destroy any flu vaccines we manufactured that contain the virus. But that’s fine. A sunk cost. We’ll invent some pretext to delay the flu shots a couple of weeks,” Barker said, thinking out loud.
A thought occurred to him, and he stared hard at Thorn. “You look like hell.”
“Thanks. I feel like it, too.”
“Could the brother have had anything to do with this?”
“No. We’ve been all over him. No chance.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive. But if you like, we can terminate him. Just for good measure.”
Barker cleared his throat, pensive. “Do you want some of my miracle coffee? You know how good it is.”
“I was hoping you’d offer.”
Barker pressed a small button on a wireless intercom on the table and spoke into it. “Two cups of java. You like cream and sugar?”
“Sure. Two sugars. A dollop of cream.”
“You heard him. My usual for me.” He released the button and gazed out at the Manhattan skyline, breathtaking from his lofty perch. “Eliminating the brother is closing the barn door, no? Sort of pointless now, I would think.”
“I’m just throwing possibilities out there.”
“I’d say it’s time to concentrate on salvaging what we can, and focus on the future. We have other options. Perhaps not as elegant or quite ready, but still, options. I won’t be denied the culmination of a life’s work by one setback. Tomorrow’s another day.” Barker shifted in his seat. “Run interference, ensure any investigation goes nowhere. You know what to do. If there’s a congressional hearing that we can’t quash, stonewall. The usual. Since nothing actually happened, I don’t think we’ll need a fall guy this go-round. In fact, you can probably twist the whole thing to the Agency’s advantage.”
“I’ll think of something.”
The coffee arrived, and the cook scuttled away after placing a silver serving tray on the table.
“I’m sure you will. Have no fear. This isn’t over. It’s just an intermission. A temporary glitch. A resilient man bounces back from his lowest low to hit an even higher high. Which we will,” Barker said.
Both men sipped their dark roast, marveling as always at the flavor profile, appreciation on both their faces as they contemplated the next inning, and what they would do differently next time.
Jeffrey waited outside the hotel for the taxi that would take him to the Charles de Gaulle airport. Then home, to Washington. Although he realized that nothing he had back there even resembled a home — his brother’s condo, a job that was a sham, a relationship that was a lie.
It had been ten days since Bertrand had sent the report to Kaycee, and Jeffrey had spoken with her a dozen times since then as she’d updated him on her progress. She’d succeeded in getting it to the Chinese and the Indians, and the French had slipped it to the Russians and the British. That had been more than a week ago.
Perhaps the most infuriating part had been the uncertainty — not knowing what the outcome would be, day after long day. Then, that morning, Bertrand had called with a piece of auspicious news. He’d heard from his contacts that the flu shot program scheduled for the following week had been postponed due to some process issues that would delay it for a month. Jeffrey wasn’t so sure, but Bertrand had assured him it was a win for them, and that the only conclusion they could reach was that enough pressure had been brought to bear so that those intent on destroying most of mankind had terminated their plan. In the meantime, the Frenchman was working round the clock to create an effective vaccine, putting the full weight of the Institute behind the effort.