Biowar (18 page)

“The guerrillas have camps in the mountains all around us, on both sides of the border,” said Major Sourin, who’d received orders from above to brief the American “terror specialist.” The instructions included a line that might be politely translated as: “Make nice but not too nice to the buffoon before sending him on his way.”

“The guerrillas aggressive?” Karr asked.

Sourin shrugged. “Most are more interested in each other than fighting the Myanmar government,” said the major.

The Thai officer explained that his government’s view toward the guerrillas varied depending on their exact affiliation. Because the Myanmar government was a repressive regime and, more important, was at odds with the Thai government, groups genuinely opposed to the Myanmar regime were viewed fairly benignly. But some of the guerrillas across the border were simply pirates, preying on anyone they could, and most of their victims were Thai citizens. It angered Sourin that he did not have the resources to properly deal with the guerrillas.

What Sourin didn’t say but what Karr had already gathered from his briefing, was that the lack of formal control and governmental infrastructure in the jungle to the northeast meant that anyone with a few weapons and iodine pills to purify the water could operate there. Four or five of the guerrilla camps just over the border were known to shelter radical Islamists, who though opposed to the Myanmar government, were on American watch lists because of their connection with international terror groups. At least two of these had long histories of violence against Westerners and had, in fact, operated in both Thailand and Myanmar for over two decades.

Sourin also didn’t say that with all the activity going on near the Cambodian border, his sector had less priority than Fourth of July picnic planning the week before Christmas.

“Can you plot out the camps for me?” Karr asked. “As many as you know.”

The major said something to one of his aides and a large topographical map was produced. There were xs scattered around.

“We’re not sure how many camps,” said the major.

“Would satellite photos help?”

The major didn’t answer.

“I can probably get some satellite analysis for you,” said Karr. “Help figure it all out.”

“Why exactly are you here?” said the major.

“There’s one group I’d like to check up on,” Karr told him. “I’d like to look at them up close. Probably they’re not going to be very friendly. You help me. I help you.”

“You’re getting way ahead of yourself,” scolded Chafetz. “We don’t even know if they’re on our side, for christsake. Let’s check the computers before we start making deals.”

The major said something to his aides in Thai. All three men left the tent. Karr thumbed the two Marines out as well.

“Why should I help you?” asked the major.

“My enemy is your enemy?” Karr smiled, hoping the major’s English education had included all of the important clichés. “One hand washes the other?”

The major gave him a sarcastic smile. Karr expected a lecture in the realities of jungle warfare, especially for a unit stranded far from support, with limited firepower. But instead the major took a more direct approach.

“What’s in it for me and my men?”

“Better weapons than you have now,” Karr told him. “Minimis for starters—M249s. They’re squad-level machine guns. Belgians make them.”

“I know what Minimis are,” said Sourin.

“GPS locator gear, night goggles, better computers. What are these, from 1960?”

Karr went over to the laptops and picked one up, glancing at the unit. He didn’t recognize the make, but the plug on the side for the modem looked to be standard. There was a serial port, a parallel connection, and a USB bus. He’d have no problem connecting his dongle.

“Hey, you got Donkey Kong on this?” Karr pulled the machine open. “I love that old game.”

The major put his hand on the cover, closing it.

“My commander told me to cooperate with you, but he did not order an attack.”

The NSA op shrugged. “Your call.”

Karr decided Sourin wasn’t the type to suggest a direct monetary bribe and, in fact, was probably even a little put out at the offer of weapons. Which were good things, Karr thought, though they didn’t particularly advance his current agenda.

“Let me ask you a question, Major,” said Karr. He reached into his pocket for the photos of Kegan and Pound. “There a lot of white guys running around the jungle here?”

“Tommy, no,” hissed Chafetz. “If he’s working with them, you’re cooked.”

Sourin made a dismissive gesture. “How would they get up here?” he asked.

“Kinda what I’m wondering,” said Karr. “I have a couple of places I’d like to check out, and your help would be useful.”

“I’ll have to talk to my commander,” said Sourin.

“Great.”

“Why did you show him the pictures?” demanded Chafetz.

“Got to find out whose side he’s on somehow, right?”

“Jesus.”

“So what did he do?”

“So far, all he’s done is tell his commander that you’re looking for some Americans who are apparently working with the guerrillas. That and he thinks you’re crazy.”

“I like him, too,” said Karr. He continued walking along the camp’s perimeter line, avoiding the area to the left that had been booby-trapped. Located on a slight rise, the camp commanded the only road through the border area, but in truth the deep potholes and ruts made it almost unusable.

“There are three possible camps, all connected with Muslim extremists according to Thai intelligence,” said Chafetz.

“Which one do we hit first?”

“We’re still trying to figure out which is our best bet. In the meantime, you need to tap into those computers before you get anywhere.”

“Looks like I have to wait until tonight,” Karr told her. “I may not even be able to get in then.”

“Marie isn’t going to go for any sort of armed reconnaissance mission over the border unless we’re sure they’re on our side.”

“Not her call. It’s Rubens’.”

“I doubt he will, either.”

“Oh, don’t be such a pessimist. Listen, you sure you can’t airlift some Mickey D’s in? My stomach’s rumblin’.”

27

“It’s not
E. coli
at all. Nor is it a morph of Asian SARS, which was also suggested, though we can’t really rule anything out until we’ve been able to conduct better tests.”

“There’s no way it could be a virus, because other cases would have cropped up. It’s probably just a coincidence.”

“There may be a vector that we don’t understand. I still vote for
E. coli—
where did these guys go for lunch?”

“E. coli
with a seven-day incubation period?”

“You don’t know it’s seven days. You don’t know anything, really,” said Westhoven, representing the FBI.

Rubens furled his arms across his chest as the video conference continued. Though mindful of the fact that he was on camera, he had a difficult time maintaining a neutral expression. There was such a wide gap between math and biology—opinion too easily mixed with fact here.

A dozen scientists affiliated with the NSA, the FBI, the Surgeon General’s office, and the CDC were debating exactly what, if anything, they were dealing with in upstate New York. Despite massive doses of penicillin and other drugs, Gorman was running a fever right around 104. He could not keep anything in his stomach, and his lungs were full of fluid. His body was covered with large purple welts.

The other man, a crime-scene technician for the state police, was in a coma. Two other cases in upstate hospitals were being investigated for similar symptoms.

A full battery of lab tests had thus far produced baffling results. The white blood cell count was extremely high, yet it wasn’t obvious what the immune systems were fighting. Tests for everything from Rocky Mountain spotted fever to the mumps had proven negative.

Meanwhile, the FBI’s investigation of Kegan’s work had thus far failed to produce anything that could be potentially used for germ warfare; his work was primarily concerned with breeding bacteria that could literally “eat” pollutants.

“We need a wider range of tests, and more resources to complete them,” said Dr. Lester finally, bringing the debaters to heel. “We need to define what we’re looking for—we’re not even sure whether it’s a virus or a bacteria at this point. In the meantime, we need to initiate a quarantine until we understand exactly what’s going on.”

“I agree with the tests,” said Westhoven. “I have a team that wants to look at potential crossover from Kegan’s experiments—granted, a long shot.”

“We can’t rule out long shots,” interrupted Lester.

“But I don’t think a quarantine’s a good idea,” continued Westhoven. “It’s premature.”

“It’s not your decision to make,” said Lester.

“If this is related to the Kegan case in any way,” said Westhoven, “then we have to proceed very cautiously.”

Rubens understood the dilemma. On the one hand, the doctors wanted to corral this before it got out of control—if it hadn’t already. On the other hand, Westhoven and the FBI were concerned that if the disease had been caused by something Kegan was working on, then a large-scale action by the CDC would demonstrate to anyone watching that he had a viable weapon.

Of course, publicizing it would also make the FBI look bad, which undoubtedly was in the back of Westhoven’s mind.

Would the NSA look bad as well?

Of course not. They were called in after the fact, almost by accident, to straighten the mess out.

“We still have only two cases,” said a doctor from the Surgeon General’s staff. “A quarantine would be premature—it’s not even clear whom we would quarantine.”

“The hospitals for starters,” said Lester.

Rubens decided it was time to take control. “We can’t jump to conclusions, but we do have to proceed cautiously,” he said.

“Proceeding cautiously means not setting off a panic,” said Westhoven. “Or jumping to conclusions. There’s no evidence that Kegan either was sick or made something that could make people sick. Panic, on the other hand, and—”

“How much of a panic would a thousand deaths cause?” asked Lester.

“There have been no deaths yet,” countered Westhoven.

“There are many considerations,” said Rubens. “We have to face the possibility that this disease—may I call it a disease?”

“For want of a better term,” said Lester.

“We have to face the possibility that this illness was caused by something Kegan had or has. If that’s true—I stress if—then it may be that someone else has this virus or bacteria, whatever it is. We have to act in a way that’s not going to encourage an attack, even as we stem the spread that we are already observing. Doing both at the same time does require a certain amount of delicacy, Doctor,” said Rubens, realizing Lester was the only person he needed to convince. “So how can we combine both goals?”

“Well, a soft quarantine, strict rules on the present patients, their medical teams.”

“You would do that as a matter of course, wouldn’t you?” suggested Rubens.

“Yes,” agreed Lester. “But if there are more cases—”

“How many more?” asked Westhoven.

A mistake, thought Rubens; best to leave the future ambiguous.

“Any more,” said Lester.

“Do you know how it’s passed?” Rubens asked.

“Well, the specifics really depend on the entity itself. Both of these people had contact with the dead man, and we’re assuming that that’s where they got it.”

“But the dead man didn’t die from it,” Rubens pointed out.

“No,” said Lester. “But he might have been carrying it. There’s a reasonable assumption of a long incubation period.”

“Or simply no connection at all,” mused Westhoven.

“We should have some better information within twelve hours,” said Lester. “We’ll at least know whether we’re dealing with a virus, as most of us suspect, or some sort of bacteria germ. I’ve also requested a full autopsy of the man who was found in Kegan’s house, and we’re flying in our people to perform it.”

“I would suggest, if we’re going to do a quarantine, we quarantine the people who have come in contact with that house,” said the Surgeon General’s doctor.

“Everyone?” asked Westhoven.

“It seems only prudent. Until we understand the vector, or the means of its transmission.” The doctor began talking about the ability of various viruses and bacteria to survive on different surfaces for a long period of time. The SARS virus, for example, could live for at least four days on a plastic surface as long as the temperature never rose above seventy degrees Fahrenheit.

“We’re back to a wide-scale quarantine,” said Westhoven.

“Doctor, wouldn’t it be prudent to contact the state police people involved who responded and check on their health?” said Rubens. “I would think that the reason you could give would be fairly vague—after all, you wouldn’t want to rule anything out. In the meantime, that would allow you to observe everyone—what was the term you used before? First tier contact? Well, whatever, you could proceed with that, and in the meantime the house could be secured for further investigation. As it happens,” added Rubens, “one of my people is already there.”

Not particularly by my wish,
he might have added, though he didn’t.

“I don’t know,” said Lester.

“Well, I think that’s best.”

Lester visibly sucked air. The video feed from the CDC—he seemed to be standing in a lab area—was fuzzy and slightly out of sync with the audio. “Agreed.”

“I still think this fuss is premature,” said Westhoven.

“Perhaps,” said Rubens lightly, aware that the stance only made the Bureau look as if they had bungled the matter when Kegan contacted them weeks before.

Had they, though?

Probably not. Surely this was just a bizarre coincidence.

On the other hand, image was everything in Washington, or nearly so.

“We’re presenting the matter to the full NSC at six P.M.,” said Lester.

“You are?” said Rubens, barely able to keep the surprise from his voice. “Mr. Hadash has already been informed?”

“An hour ago. Given the other circumstances, I felt it absolutely necessary to take this to the highest levels right away. I’m afraid I have to cut this short,” added Lester. “I have to go over and see Sandra Marshall. Mr. Hadash recommended she be the point person at Homeland Security on this.”