Safely? he asked himself. Sure. The thought brought back dark memories and the sort of fear he hadn't known in many years. This attack on his country—Clark hadn't been told yet, but he never had learned to believe in coincidences—didn't put him at risk, but it put his wife at risk.
"Who do you suppose did it?" It was a dumb question, and it generated a dumber reply.
"Somebody who doesn't like us a whole hell of a lot," John answered crossly.
"Sorry." Chavez looked out the window and thought for a few seconds. "It's one hell of a gamble, John."
"If we find out it is… and operational security on something like this is a motherfucker."
"Roge-o, Mr. C. The people we've been looking at?"
"That's a possibility. Others, too, I suppose." He checked his watch. Director Foley should be back from Washington by now, and they should head up to his office. It took only a couple of minutes.
"Hi, John," the DCI said, looking up from his desk. Mary Pat was there, too.
"Not an accident, is it?" Clark asked.
"No, it's not. We're setting up a joint task force. The FBI is talking to people inside the country. If we get leads, it'll be our job to work outside the borders. You two will stand by to handle that. I'm trying to figure a way now to get people overseas."
"The SNIE?" Ding asked.
"Everything else is on the back burner now. Jack even gave me authority to order NSA and DIA around." Though the DCI by law had the power to do just that, in fact the other large agencies had always been their own independent empires. Until now.
"How are the kids, guys?" Clark asked.
"Home," Mary Pat replied. Queen spook or not, she was still a mother with a mother's concerns. "They say they feel fine."
"Weapons of mass destruction," Chavez said next. He didn't have to say anything more.
"Yeah." The DCI nodded. Somebody either had overlooked or didn't care about the fact that United States policy for years had been explicit on that issue. A nuke was a germ was a gas shell, and the reply to a germ or a gas shell was a nuke, because America had those, and didn't have the others. Foley's desk phone rang. "Yes?" He listened for a few seconds. "Fine, could you send a team here for that? Good, thank you."
"What was that?"
"USAMRIID at Fort Detrick. Okay, they'll be here in an hour. We can send people overseas, but they have to have their blood tested first. The European countries are— well, you can imagine. Shit, you can't take a fucking dog into England without leaving him in a kennel for a month to make sure he doesn't have rabies. You'll probably have to be tested on the other side of the pond, too. Flight crew also," the DCI added.
"We're not packed," Clark said.
"Buy what you need over there, John, okay?" Mary Pat paused. "Sorry."
"Do we have any leads to run down?"
"Not yet, but that will change. You can't do something like this without leaving some footprints."
"Something's strange here," Chavez observed, looking down the long, narrow top-floor office. "John, remember what I said the other day?"
"No," Clark said. "What do you mean?"
"Some things you can't retaliate about, some things you can't reverse. Hey, if this was a terrorist op—"
"Too big," Mary Pat objected. "Too sophisticated."
"Fine, ma'am, even if it was, hell, we could turn the Bekaa Valley into a parking lot, and send the Marines in to paint the lines after it cools down. That ain't no secret. Same thing's true of a nation-state, isn't it? We ditched the ballistic missiles, but we still have nuclear bombs. We can burn any country down to bedrock, and President Ryan would do it—least I wouldn't bet the house against it. I've seen the guy in action, and he ain't no pantywaist."
"So?" the DCI asked. He didn't say that it wasn't that simple. Before Ryan or anyone else initiated a nuclear-release order, the evidence would have to be of the sort to pass scrutiny with the Supreme Court, and he didn't think Ryan was the sort to do such a thing under most circumstances.
"So whoever ran this op is thinking one of two things. Either it won't matter if we find out, or we can't respond that way, or…" There was a third one, wasn't there? It was almost there, but not quite.
"Or they take the President out—but then why try for his little girl first?" Mary Pat asked.
"That just increases security around him, makes the job harder instead of easier. We have things happening all over. The Chinese thing. The UIR. The Indian navy sneaked out to sea. All the political crap here, and now this Ebola. There's no picture. All these things are unconnected."
"Except they're all making our life hard, aren't they?" The room got quiet for a few seconds.
"The boy's got a point," Clark told the other two.
"IT ALWAYS STARTS in Africa," Lorenz said, filling his pipe. "That's where it lives. There was an outbreak in Zaire a few months ago."
"Didn't make the news," the FBI agent said.
"Only two victims, a young boy and a nurse—nursing nun, I think, but she was lost in a plane crash. Then there was a mini-break in Sudan, again two victims, an adult male and a little girl. The man died. The child survived. That was weeks ago, too. We have blood samples from the Index Case. We've been experimenting with that one for a while now."
"How do you do that?"
"You culture the virus in tissue. Monkey kidneys, as a matter of fact—oh, yeah," he remembered.
"What's that?"
"I put in an order for some African greens. That's the monkey we use. You euthanatize them and extract the kidneys. Somebody got there first, and I had to wait for another order."
"Do you know who it was?" Lorenz shook his head.
"No, never found out. Put me back a week, ten days, that's all."
"Who else would want the monkeys?" the SAC asked.
"Pharmaceutical houses, medical labs, like that."
"Who would I talk to about that?"
"You serious?"
"Yes, sir." Lorenz shrugged and pulled the card off his Rolodex.
"Here."
THE BREAKFAST MEETING had taken a little time to arrange. Ambassador David L. Williams left his car, then was escorted into the Prime Minister's official residence. He was grateful for the time of day. India could be a furnace, and at his age the heat became increasingly oppressive, especially since he had to dress like an Ambassador, instead of a governor of Pennsylvania, where it was okay to look working class. In this country, working class meant even more informal clothing, and that made the upper crust even haughtier with their beloved symbols of status. World's largest democracy they liked to call this place, the retired politician thought. Sure.
The P.M. was already seated at the table. She rose when he entered the room, took his hand and conveyed him to his seat. The china was gold-trimmed, and a liveried servant came in to serve coffee. Breakfast started with melon.
"Thank you for receiving me," Williams said.
"You are always welcome in my house," the P.M. replied graciously. About as much as a snake, the Ambassador knew. The hi-how-are-you chitchat lasted for ten minutes. Spouses were fine. Children were fine. Grandchildren were fine. Yes, it was warming up with the approach of summer. "So what business do we have to discuss?"
"I understand that your navy has sailed."
"Yes, it has, I believe. After the unpleasantness your forces inflicted on us, they had to make repairs. I suppose they are making sure all their machines work," the P.M. replied.
"Just exercises?" Williams asked. "My government merely asks the question, madam."
"Mr. Ambassador, I remind you that we are a sovereign nation. Our armed forces operate under our law, and you keep reminding us that the sea is free for the innocent passage of all. Are you now telling me that your country wishes to deny us that right?"
"Not at all, Prime Minister. We merely find it curious that you are evidently staging so large an exercise." He didn't add, with your limited resources.