“You have to alert the other nations, Leonidovich, we can’t risk that…”
“Yes of course”, the agent interrupts him for the umpteenth time. “To tell them what? That we let a man blow a dangerous viral agent from under our nose, and now it’s in the hands of a terrorist? You are over, Ivanov, and I don’t think that you fully realize it. You have jeopardized the credibility and prestige of the entire nation!”
“There’s something else at play, Leonidovich. The prestige of a nation or any other matter relating to the human sphere is nothing compared to the risk of destroying the whole life on the entire planet. We are all in danger now, and it’s you who doesn’t realize it!”
Moments of tense silence between the two, then it’s Ivanov to go on. “Analyze the records of flights and ships in traveling from Antarctica. It’s a continent that hosts just research stations. Perhaps you might be able to find any plane or boat that has reached other continents. The man you’re seeking moves by private means, I suggest that you focus your efforts on the nearest coasts: Chile, Argentina, South Africa.”
Leonidovich pauses for a moment, watching Ivanov from above, as if observing an irresponsible schoolchild, then gets up and heads for the door behind him. Before he even reaches it, the door opens, and two armed officers enter, arranging themselves on either side. “Lead Dr. Ivanov to Section IV, and make sure that he stays there.” Then he turns to the scientist, “Dr. Ivanov, we still need you, consider yourself lucky for that.”
A bitter smile ripples for a moment on the impassive face of the scientist. “I’m more than aware of that, officer Leonidovich.”
CAPE TOWN AIRPORT
A chubby boy about seven years old and a slightly older girl run after each other, zigzagging in the bustle of people in a huge hall of the airport of Cape Town.
“Stop, just give it back!”, screams the boy, while the girl laughs and trots in front of him, just quickly enough to stay out of reach but at the same time just in front of him. They run around having fun, as the girl swerves left, narrowly avoiding running into an elderly woman.
“Watch your steps!”, shouts the boy behind her.
She laughs, looking back to make sure not to be caught by the other. After two more steps she hits someone’s legs. The girl turns around, dazed by the impact, and finds herself in front of a man. He isn’t very tall, his skin is like honey amber, only slightly darker. He has curly black hair, very thick, almost 70’s Afro style, and perhaps they are the reason why his head looks a bit too wide for the narrow shoulders. Two mild but bright eyes, hazel colored, look at the child. The man smiles and somehow even his smile seems somewhat disproportionate. He talks, saying something in an incomprehensible language and making a half curtsy. She blushes and murmurs an apology just before slipping away along with her friend who, taking advantage of her moment of confusion, finally reached her, taking firmly hold of her sleeve.
The man hesitates for a moment, looking at the two that have already forgotten him and run between the people, when he suddenly feels an iron grip on his arm. The hold is energetic, nervous but decisive. He instinctively frees the limb and turns to look. Next to him there is a taller, pale-skinned man, his long black hair gathered in thin braids and tied neatly behind his head. His two-day beard frames a goatee slightly longer. The newcomer looks around suspiciously. His nervous gaze flickers quickly, analyzing and checking the surroundings, the people, the ways out, and the surveillance cameras.
“You shouldn’t be here in plain sight, Amr, I asked for the utmost discretion.”
“Take life easy, my brother”, replies the other. “Who walks under the light of the one true God should never get too nervous.” Then he theatrically spreads his arms. “What better hiding place than in plain sight, and among the people?”
“Shut up and listen”, cuts the first, peremptorily and annoyed. “Tell me what time it is, then go and have a coffee. Come back in a dozen of minutes. Join me in the bathrooms. We’ll talk there.”
The other raises his left arm, sliding the sleeve to uncover a modern chronograph, then communicates the time to his accomplice. This one thanks him, accompanying his words with a nod, then turns to move towards the opposite side of the huge room.
The man named Amr takes a few moments, as to rearrange his dress with nonchalance, then he takes his way to the cafeteria.
“You took it too easily, I told you a dozen minutes!”
The two men are now in the bathrooms of the airport lounge. The taller of the two looks around, inspecting all the bathrooms to make sure that nobody is there. He seems apparently satisfied but always very nervous, as he speaks to Amr, who pretends to adjust his tie in front of a mirror. Before he can open his mouth, it’s Amr to take the lead, smiling warmly. “You should learn how to enjoy every second, Pyotr. You never know when it’s the last time you do something. Anyway… I’ve known you for some time now, and I understand when there is something wrong with you. Perhaps some unexpected problem?”
“Not at all”, exclaims the other. “And don’t call me by my name.”
“We’re alone, no one listens to us, just relax.”
Pyotr Dmitri Zaytsev takes a deep breath impatiently. “The object will be here shortly, but first I want to be sure that the transfer of funds has been made as we agreed.”
“Alas, we live in dark times, my friend”, says Amr raising his hands and smiling. “Nobody trusts anyone anymore. But it’s okay, brother, this is your right.”
After that, he takes a tiny tablet from a pocket inside his jacket and types his credentials in a basic and anonymous portal. After a short while he shows the screen to Zaytsev, looking up to the taller man. This one looks carefully at the screen, his eyes flowing faster on the reported alphanumeric characters. Satisfied with what he sees he nods his head. Amr, his face ever-smiling, puts the small device back in the pocket from which he took it and turns to a sink, as to wash his hands.
Zaytsev waits for a moment, then he puts an unexpected question to his accomplice. “Just tell me Amr: if you had the chance, would you sacrifice all that you have to wipe out all the infidels from the face of the earth in one stroke? Would you die for the true glory of God?”
Amr’s reflection looks back at him from the mirror. He doesn’t smile anymore. His calm and studied response is full of pride. “I don’t expect these questions from an old friend like you… Anyway… Yes, Pyotr, with all my heart. Yes.”
The pale skinned man nods, apparently satisfied by the response of his accomplice. “All right my brother. Wait here. The delivery is coming.”
The abrupt opening of a door catches the two with a start. A burly man enters the bathrooms main room. He is black, bald, very obese, and his skull oddly elongated in the forehead. He wears shorts that leave uncovered two legs as wide as pillars. In the hollow of his knees, some varicose veins are clearly visible and stand out in relief with a dark blue-green color. The newcomer is wearing an ugly yellow t-shirt with a drawing of Bart Simpson, completely naked and riding a pig. In one hand he holds a paper wrapping containing a half-eaten sandwich, overflowing with fries and ketchup. The man gives a distracted glance at the two, then he slips into one of the bathrooms, and closes the door with the clasp.
Amr turns back, pretending to rearrange his clothes in front of the mirror, sardonically smiling and shaking his head, as if to express his dismay at the sight of the newcomer’s shirt. “Pigs, who admire pigs, eat pigs, and idolize pigs…”, he murmurs in his language to his partner, who looks back at him from the mirror.