Black Rose (10 page)

CHAPTER 25

Elizabeth had mixed feelings about the Zürich raid. On the surface, it looked like a success. The team had been in the right place. The plague-ridden corpses in the disposal room, the files they'd recovered and pictures of the lab proved that. The international papers were calling it a terrorist attack, although no one seemed to know why a pharmaceutical research lab had been targeted. The Swiss police were baffled and angry. Such things didn't happen in Switzerland. It was disorderly.

Although the samples in Zürich had been destroyed, she had a bad feeling that the plague was still in play. There was no firm evidence to make her believe that. It was a matter of intuition and years of experience. AEON was too clever to put all their resources in one place. The raid might have eliminated the threat but what if it hadn't?

The files recovered from the lab contained hard data and summarized research notes. The research notes weren't signed, but Elizabeth thought they were probably done by Karl Schmidt. She'd passed the file on to CDC in Atlanta. The file on the test subjects was gruesome and proved that human subjects had been used as guinea pigs. Twenty-seven had died before a new test batch of vaccine showed promise. Detailed autopsy reports and notes described the grim progress of the disease and it's inevitable outcome.

Things had moved past her resources and responsibility. She had proof that the plague was a genuine national security threat. She was on her way to the White House to brief the president.

Elizabeth's driver turned onto Pennsylvania Avenue and passed through new security barriers installed since the last time she'd been here. Secret Service agents met her at a side entrance and relieved her of her pistol. They gave her a visitor pass to hang around her neck and escorted her to the Oval Office, where President Rice was expecting her.

Rice was behind his desk. He was an average looking man at first glance. It was only on closer inspection that people were captured by the intensity in his eyes. They were blue with a hint of green and conveyed a sense of total attention when he looked at you. Like all who had held this office, he seemed surrounded by an intangible aura of power. Elizabeth had felt it before with other presidents. His face showed the strain of his job, here where there was no need to look good for the cameras and the public eye wasn't upon him.

Rice was not alone in the room. DCI Clarence Hood was present as well.

"Mister President, thank you for seeing me."

"Please take a seat, Director. I thought it best if Clarence sat in on this."

She nodded to him as she sat down. Clarence Hood had become a personal friend.

"Sir, I requested this meeting because I believe we are facing a threat unlike any we've dealt with before."

"That sounds ominous, Director," Rice said.

"You already know what we discovered from the papers of North Korea's defector. I  followed up on that."

She briefed the two men on everything that had happened, ending with the raid on the Zurich laboratory.

"So that's why you wanted the safe house," Hood said.

"Why wasn't I told about this operation?" Rice said.

"Sir, that's why I'm here now. Until I had definite proof of what these people were doing, I felt you had no need to know."

"If the Swiss find out we're responsible, they'll make a lot of trouble."

"They won't find out, Mister President. I guarantee it."

"They better hadn't. You are certain it was the Russians that took the samples from the North Koreans?"

"Yes, sir, I am. We determined that through satellite surveillance. Then our source verified our finding before he was killed."

"This Adam person?"

"Yes, sir."

"Mm. Go on."

"Sir, there can only be one reason AEON subjected human subjects to this terrible disease. They are working to create a vaccine against it or have already done so."

Hood sighed. "You think they intend to release it."

"That's right," Elizabeth said. "It's a perfect terrorist weapon. There's no cure that we know of and it's always fatal."

"I can understand one of the fundamentalist groups wanting to do something like that," Rice said. "They hate everyone who doesn't believe as they do and they justify it as God's will. But why would a group of successful business men do such a thing? It doesn't make sense."

"I can only speculate on that," Elizabeth said. "AEON seems to want a world they can dominate and control. They've demonstrated that they have no concern for the cost in human life. I don't think they have any agenda beyond dominance."

"Amoral," Hood said.

"Totally. They have no ethical or moral considerations."

"Who else is part of this organization besides Gutenberg and Dass?" Rice asked.

"I can't answer that," Elizabeth said. "But we do know those two are leaders. Sir, the resources at my disposal aren't enough to tackle this by myself."

"I can set up full surveillance on Gutenberg and Dass, Mister President," Hood said. "They might lead us to the others."

"Do it," Rice said.

"Yes, sir."

"We could look into Gutenberg's finances," Elizabeth said. "Whatever else is going on, money must be part of it. Terrorist acts require funding. If we find a money trail, we can follow it. Dass is the one with the facilities to handle the samples and develop any vaccine or cure. We need to know what he's doing as well."

They waited as Rice considered what they'd said.

"All right," he said. "I want this kept between the two of you. Spying on foreign nationals influential in finance and industry is a mine field, politically speaking. We get enough flak about surveillance as it is from our supposed allies. They don't like us finding out when they act against our interests."

"If they don't like it, perhaps they should stop doing it," Hood said.

"Make sure the media never hears you say that," Rice said. "I'd hate to lose you."

CHAPTER 26

The windows of Alexei Vysotsky's office looked out across the Yasenevo District outside of Moscow, all the way to the golden onion domes of the Kremlin. In summer, hundreds of trees made a sea of leafy green stretching all the way to the river. In the winter, as now, the bare branches revealed the grimy urban sprawl surrounding the modern office building that housed Russia's Foreign Intelligence Service.

The sun cast watery light from a thin curtain of high, cold sky. Outside, the temperature hovered somewhere below zero. Vysotsky's office was hot and stuffy. He sat at his desk with his collar open and cursed the engineers who had designed a system that roasted you or left you in freezing cold.

The temperature of the room was the least of Vysotsky's concerns. He'd just finished reading a summary of the contents of Gutenberg's encrypted drive. Valentina had sent him a headache of the first order. He opened the bottom drawer of his desk, took out the vodka and poured a drink. He downed half, topped off the glass, and put the bottle back. Then he opened the report on Gutenberg's computer.

The material was an intelligence officer's dream, a treasure trove of names, numbers and personal observations. There were two encrypted files. The first was a private journal. Alexei couldn't believe a man so powerful would be so careless as to keep a record like this. It was more than a diary. It was as if Gutenberg was making notes for future generations, a kind of contemporary history. If the material was a dream, it was also a nightmare. Alexei had a big problem on his hands, big enough to destroy him if he wasn't careful.

3 February

The Korean samples have been procured. The information Kamarov obtained from his nephew was perfect. His men had no trouble with the train or the guard detachment. No witnesses. No casualties on our side. The samples will be in Zurich tomorrow.

Konstantine Kamarov
, Vysotsky thought,
and his bastard nephew Vladimir. Traitors, both of them. They killed my men.

A sudden wave of anger swept through him. If Kamarov had been in the room, Alexei would have wrapped his hands around the man's fat throat and squeezed until blood ran out of his eyes.

A dull pounding in Vysotsky's head signaled that his blood pressure was heading for the roof. He forced himself to take a breath and relax. It wouldn't help to give himself a stroke.

Konstantine Kamarov was one of the most powerful men in the Federation, one of the Oligarchs who'd come out of the darkness after the collapse of the Soviet Union. His nephew was Vladimir Kamarov, Deputy Director of SVR and Vysotsky's boss.

I need to make sure his loving nephew doesn't find out about this file
, Vysotsky thought
. I'll tell him about it just before I put a bullet in the back of his head.

The second encrypted file outlined a plan to test the virulent plague in Brazil before releasing it on a wider scale in China. It cited examples from history and modern times of what happened when a country's medical infrastructure failed and life-threatening disease spread among the population. There was a detailed analysis of how Gutenberg's consortium of banks could provide the loans required to finance recovery and establish dominance. The graphs and charts were convincing. The profit margins and net gains were impressive. The document projected two hundred million deaths in China alone and discussed the costs of cleaning up the aftermath. An addendum to the file discussed how much profit could be made from sales of the vaccine.

Vysotsky finished his drink and poured another. He was a man hardened by years of working as an officer in one of the most brutal and secretive intelligence organizations that had ever existed. He'd seen many things in his career, but nothing to match the pure evil of what Gutenberg was planning.

The man's a monster
, Vysotsky thought,
but perhaps I can take advantage of what he has created.

Russia was not mentioned in the plan. It made sense that Gutenberg and Kamarov wouldn't want to disrupt the enormous income that flowed to them through manipulation of Russian industry and oil contracts. Kamarov controlled everything from the production of the new MIG fighter planes to the knockoff American blue jeans sold on the street corners of Moscow.

Vysotsky read further in Gutenberg's journal.

23 February

Talked with K. in Zurich. Progress! Schmidt is a genius. He's ready to test a possible vaccine. Everything had been made ready previously at K.'s bioresearch lab, in anticipation of obtaining the samples. Kamarov's plan to persuade the Kremlin to authorize the raid on the North Koreans saved us a lot of trouble.

Volunteers have signed up and test subjects chosen. Facilities have been ready for several weeks, including the necessary crematorium.

Who is K.?
Vysotsky wondered. The next entry was about a dinner party and the menu, of no importance. It was the entry after that that sounded alarms for Vysotsky, even more than learning of Kamarov's treachery.

27 February

The teleconference with the others went well. Everyone is pleased. Mitchell pointed out that Washington's reaction to the outbreak of plague would be denial that any problem existed for the U.S. He suggested that after the initial wave of reports had passed, the media should play up the wonders of American healthcare. Reports of the severity of the plague could be suppressed until deaths had reached some critical number, perhaps fifty or sixty thousand. Then a fear-based campaign could be launched to encourage Americans to line up for vaccinations.

There was general agreement to do this in each of our respective spheres of influence.

De Guillame pointed out that the outbreak would provide a perfect opportunity to test our new nano-trackers. Each tracker would be digitally imprinted on the spot via secure wireless connection with the name, address and government ID number of the person receiving a vaccination. It's a good idea, but the manufacturing facility is not ready yet.

A motion was raised and seconded to table the discussion on the trackers until a later date. It was carried unanimously.

This was followed by a general discussion. Thorvaldson and Halifax think we should focus on stimulating a backlash against immigration prior to releasing the plague. Mitchell laughed and said there was already plenty of backlash in his country. Halifax agreed that every Western nation and many in other parts of the world were well primed to turn against the inferior races attempting to infiltrate and undermine our societies. It was agreed that we will ramp up immigration issues in our respective nations in preparation for severe government restrictions, using the plague as an excuse.

The report was succinct, thorough and professional. It had been prepared by an officer named Ilya Yezhov. Vysotsky pulled up Yezhov's file on his computer.

Yezhov was thirty years old. He'd graduated from the Moscow Military Commanders School with high honors and been commissioned a Junior Lieutenant. A year later he'd put in a request for Spetsnaz training and been accepted. Yezhov had served with distinction in Chechnya, where he'd been promoted and awarded the Medal for Courage for bravery in combat. He'd been brought into Zaslon three years before and promoted to his present rank of Captain. Yezhov had taken a specialized internal SVR training in sophisticated surveillance techniques and cyber warfare, which was why Gutenberg's drive had landed on his desk for evaluation. For once the system had gotten it right the first time.

Vysotsky gave a grunt of approval. He depressed a  switch on his intercom.

"Yes, General."

"Find Captain Ilya Yezhov and get him here."

"At once, General." The voice sounded as though it had snapped to attention.

While he waited, Alexei thought about what he'd just read. A group of powerful men. It was all so depressingly familiar. He wondered if it was the same group again, AEON in a new configuration. Over the last two years they'd caused a lot of trouble, but he thought they had been destroyed. Perhaps this was a different group, perhaps not. It made no difference. Now that he had names, he'd soon know who they were. It was a given that they were all powerful and wealthy, like Kamarov. If he wasn't careful, Alexei knew they would crush him.

A sharp knock on his door announced Yezhov's arrival. Vysotsky reached down under his desk and activated a device that blanketed the room against any possible electronic surveillance.

"Come."

Yezhov was a taut, muscular man, a picture of how a Russian officer should look. His tall boots gleamed. His uniform was immaculate. Vysotsky would have expected nothing else, but it confirmed Yezhov's professionalism. The captain's face bore the mark of the Russian steppes, high cheekbones and dark brown eyes that matched his close cropped hair. He had a thin scar on the side of his jaw that ran back to his ear, a permanent reminder of his time in Chechnya. His lips were full, almost sensuous. He was about six feet tall. Yezhov was a man in his prime.

Yezhov saluted.

"Sir."

"At ease, Captain. Take that chair. Sit."

"Sir." Yezhov sat. His back was ramrod straight.

"I have been reading your report on the material discovered by our agent in Paris. You have been thorough."

"I try to be, sir."

"Have you spoken to anyone about this report?"

"No, sir.

"No one else knows what is in it?"

"No, General. The material is too sensitive. I was careful to maintain the highest security. You are the only person to see it."

Vysotsky nodded. "Good. What did you think of the contents? Give me your evaluation."

Alexei watched Yezhov carefully. It was a test. He was asking Yezhov to comment on explosive material that would create serious problems in the Kremlin and elsewhere. How would he respond? Would he evade? Hesitate? If he did, he was not the man Alexei wanted.

"Sir, if this information is accurate, it is critical we give it our full attention," Yezhov said. "It's bad enough that these men are planning an attack on nations vital to our national interest. It's worse that Konstantine Kamarov is one of them. He's a traitor. He should be arrested."

"I an certain the information is accurate, Captain. How would you approach the problem? Need I remind you that his nephew oversees our operations and appears to be responsible for the death of Major Kaminsky and his men?"

"With all due respect, sir, that is an obstacle that must be overcome. As to how I would go about it, I think a tactical solution is required. But I would proceed with great caution."

"A black operation?"

"Absolutely, sir. Blacker than the inside of a Siberian coal miner's ass."

"Your imagery is graphic, Captain. What would be the goal of such an operation?"

"Obtaining proof that Kamarov is a traitor and finding out more about this group."

"How would you obtain such proof?"

Yezhov paused, thinking. He seemed calm, at ease. Vysotsky waited, watching him. He was pleased by what he saw.

Not many could sit in front of me and keep their composure in a situation like this
, he thought.
This is a man who knows who he is.

"Kamarov is widely disliked," Yezhov began. "No one would be surprised if something happened to him. He knows this. I am sure he has heavy security with him everywhere he goes and at his residences."

Vysotsky nodded. "Continue."

"I don't think we can delay, sir, based on what's in that file. You asked how I would obtain proof. If he were to be kidnapped and a public ransom demand made, it would appear to be just another mafia extortion. Kamarov could be questioned in private about his plans. He'll give us proof."

"And then?"

Yezhov shrugged. "The man's a traitor. His body might provide an object lesson to others who consider betraying the Motherland."

"You would eliminate him, then."

"An excuse could be made that would satisfy everyone. Perhaps a communication from the supposed kidnappers."

"You would have done well in the old days, Captain. Prepare a detailed plan to put your idea into action. Have it on my desk by 0800 tomorrow."

It was an order and a dismissal. Yezhov stood.

"Yes, sir. Is that all, sir?"

Vysotsky waved his hand in the air, toward the door.

Yezhov saluted, turned in a precise half circle and left the room, closing the door after him.

Alexei got out the vodka and filled his glass. He'd just made the opening move in a dangerous game. If what he planned was discovered, he'd be finished. You didn't go after someone as powerful as Kamarov without risking everything. The oligarch would have serious men guarding him, former Spetsnaz who knew their job. Yezhov would have his work cut out for him.

Vysotsky sipped his vodka and thought about when he'd been a younger man. He missed the action of the old days, the fine adrenaline edge that came in the field, when everything hinged on one's planning, skill and luck. Now such things had passed to the next generation, although a bullet could as easily find him as a man like Yezhov. The only difference would be that his bullet would come while he was kneeling in some God-forsaken place instead of facing his enemies. Much had changed in Russia but some things would always be the same.