A proud round of applause greeted Dr. Markazi as he exited the platform as news crews entered the room on cue. He paused and spoke with one of his assistants.
“Make sure that every ballast tank brings the weight of each team to the maximum.”
“I understand, Kazi.”
The woman left the room behind Kazi as members of the media and press entered.
42
Lyon, France
Raines was in her rental car driving over to the apartment in the BioPark when an unknown call appeared on her iPhone. She was nervous.
“Hello.”
“Were you told to expect my call?”
Raines swallowed and paused.
“Is this Molly Bloom?”
“Please listen carefully… I am bringing a commercial airliner into your city at 2:00am on Sunday morning. I need you to bring all that you have with you, in trucks, so we can load the plane. Is that clear?”
“I understand, but there is not enough time to manufacture the amount you need.”
The voice on the other end paused.
“Give me your best guess… how many can you serve in our restaurant by this Sunday at 2:00am?”
Raines had anticipated the question, and she had done her dose calculations. It would not be smooth, and certainly not professional, but it could work.
“I can’t serve you the soup in individual bowls in that amount of time,” Raines said as she tried to explain the challenges of preparing individual doses. “You will have to ladle it out with your own spoons… one-point-seven, maybe two million can be served, and give them three drops each.”
Raines heard Reuven’s fingers on a keyboard. She assumed he was doing some quick calculations.
“See you Sunday.”
Tel Aviv, Israel
Yitzhak looked at the scratch marks on Reuven’s tablet.
“Bring me two of the best meteorologists in Tel Aviv. And get the director to call the Ministry of Health in Jerusalem. We need to meet tomorrow morning.”
“Anything else?” Yitzhak asked.
“Yes. Arrange a meeting with the news directors from each TV station in Tel Aviv. Have them attend the meeting with the meteorologists and the Ministry of Health.”
Reuven went home, kissed the heads of his sleeping sons and got into bed next to his wife. His eyes stared at the ceiling as the digital clock on his nightstand counted the minutes. He was up in the kitchen pouring his coffee long before his wife or children even stirred.
The Health Minister was not pleased that her morning calendar was cleared by Mossad with just one phone call, but she didn’t mind the inconvenience of an exquisite helicopter ride from Jerusalem to Tel Aviv. The news directors played coy and were calculating the angles they could use to beat the other with a scoop on whatever news story was about to break. The two weather forecasters thought they had died and gone to heaven. They were intercepted at their homes by Mossad agents before they could drive to work. Now they were sitting in Reuven’s command center, a secret lair in an unmarked building in the middle of Tel Aviv.
Coastal maps of Israel — from Kfar Rosh HaNikra in the farthest point north, to Haifa, Netanya, Tel Aviv, Ashdod, and the Gaza Strip to the south — were all affixed to the walls in Reuven’s secret post.
“Our discussions today never happened. Everything said in here today shall be denied… nothing said in here today shall ever be repeated or reported.”
Three news directors, two meteorologists and one Minister of Health nodded their agreement.
“Six days from now, we believe our country will be attacked by a bio-weapon. A hybrid tularemia bacterium has been created, a vaccine-resistant tularemia to be precise. But our friends from the west have developed a vaccine that will protect us. We had hoped for a biomedical shield that would protect all of Israel. But due to time constraints, we can now only hope for a biomedical wall. I need precise wind forecasts for next Tuesday morning!” Reuven said as the two weathermen rifled through their charts and laptop programs.
“A storm will pass through on Sunday, but we should be clear on Monday and Tuesday,” said the first.
“Winds out of the north and west, 6 to 10 miles per hour. Pushing to the south and then southwest over Egypt. Typical wind patterns for this time of year,” said the second.
“If a microscopic particle was floating in the air on the coastline, and the winds you describe pushed it inland, how far might it come?” Reuven asked.
“It might not come inland at all. It could be pushed further south,” said the first.
“Worse case?” Reuven pushed.
“Two to three miles… maybe. It’s more of a breeze at that strength. Hardly a wind,” said the second.
“Madam Minister, from Kfar Rosh HaNikra in the north all the way to the Gaza in the south, how many people live and work within three miles of the sea?”
“I can’t answer that right now; I’d need time. I’d need to run some models and create some charts.”
“We don’t have time, Madam Minister. I need your best estimate.”
The Minister of Health looked up at the maps on Reuven’s wall and did some quick calculations in her head.
“Tel Aviv would be the largest number, then Haifa down Highway 2. Rishon LeTsiyon is too far inland, but Ashdod could be in trouble.”
“How many?” Reuven persisted.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Shavit. I don’t know for sure. But I’m afraid… I’m afraid that as many as two million people could be at risk.”
The gravity of two million lives weighed heavily on the minds of the three news directors.
“This is another Holocaust,” whispered one under his breath.
“No, it won’t be. But I need your help. The vaccine is sublingual. Three tiny droplets under the tongue, and you get an immune response that prevents sickness from the tularemia. There is only one thing worse than the tularemia itself… fear and panic. So here’s the plan: I need widespread news coverage, calm and matter-of-fact, that flu season is upon us. The health ministry needs to dispatch an army of volunteers from north to south who will start at the coast line and move inland with sublingual vaccines. Set up vaccine tents on the beaches and send others door to door. No mention — anytime or anywhere or under any circumstance — that a bio-weapon has been released. Neither rabbit fever nor tularemia shall ever be mentioned.”
“Are you censoring us?” one of the news directors asked.
“No… I’m begging you,” Reuven said with great humility.
“What if some people start reporting illnesses?”
“Some will. DO NOT REPORT IT. We will get them antibiotics immediately. No one needs to die from tularemia. They may get sick, but they won’t die.”
“What if the weather changes, the winds change?” one of the meteorologists asked.
“Let us all pray that the God of Gideon blows back against the winds of torment. We need wall-to-wall news promos on the flu vaccine program beginning on Friday and up until Sunday morning. We start vaccinating along the coast at 9:00am Sunday morning.”
“I’m going to need thousands of volunteers,” the Minister of Health said.
“We can promote that on TV. Get public service announcements out to radio and ads for the newspapers.”
“Money is not an issue,” Reuven added. “We have funds for bus posters, outdoor signs… whatever you need. Please be clear on this… put a happy face on everything. No underlying concern. We want to have the most flu-free season in the history of Israel.”
43
ISAF Headquarters
Kabul, Afghanistan