Biowar

15

Lia’s run-in with MI-5 had several consequences. Not the least of these, as far as Rubens was concerned, was the need to personally brief the National Security Advisor first thing in the morning. Since it was already past 4.00 A.M., Rubens had to wait until George Hadash was awake.

Rubens gave him until 4:55, knowing from experience that Hadash’s alarm was just about to ring.

“I need to go over the biology problem,” said Rubens. Both men preferred euphemisms even though they were on a secure phone.

“William.” His name in Hadash’s mouth sounded halfway between a sigh and a lament. “You woke me up.”

“Yes.”

“This is the Kegan project?”

“Some very important tangential issues. I can tell you now or—”

“Meet me for breakfast at the White House,” said Hadash. “Six-thirty.”

Hadash’s office was located two doors down from the Oval Office, with only the room used by the President’s appointments secretary intervening. Not even this physical proximity caught the actual closeness of the President and Hadash, who as National Security Advisor ran the National Security Council (NSC) and shaped much of the administration’s foreign and military policy. The two men had worked together in various capacities for more than twenty years. Hadash’s background was split between government and academia, while the President’s had been exclusively political. Their personalities, however, couldn’t be more different. Rubens saw Hadash as something of a nervous Nellie, while the President — a naval officer in his salad days — was the sort of man who would stand calmly on the bow of a destroyer as it dodged through a minefield at flank speed.

Hadash was on the phone when Rubens came in. A tray of coffee sat atop the papers on the National Security Advisor’s desk; Hadash gestured for Rubens to sit, then poured him a cup of coffee as he continued the conversation.

To Rubens’ surprise and consternation — much more the latter — the conversation appeared to be about the Internet biometrics proposal. Even worse, Hadash seemed to think it was a good idea.

“Well, thank you, Senator, I appreciate hearing from you,” said Hadash finally. “Yes, we’ll speak later on in the week:”

Hadash hung up the phone, then rose and refilled Rubens’ cup.

“So what went wrong?” asked Hadash. The blunt greeting was completely in keeping with his usual style; he would play the distracted host one second and the impatient taskmaster the next.

“Nothing,” said Rubens. “But the situation appears considerably more complicated than we first believed.”

The opening statement was necessary to lay the background for the real purpose of his appearance — damage control for Lia’s run-in with MI-5. The overall context must be firmly established before the diplomatic incident was trotted onto the stage and shown to be the ridiculous diversion it was.

“How complicated?” asked Hadash. He sat down in his seat, his brow beginning to knit.

“Well, they’ve kidnapped our operative for one thing,” said Rubens. “Mr. Dean.”

“Kidnapped?”

“Dean is fine. I was told on the way over that he’s on a flight to Vienna from Hamburg. We’ve lost direct contact with him, but we have one of our best people on his tail. After some difficulties.”

That was meant as a cue for Hadash’s sympathies, but the National Security Advisor didn’t take the bait.

“Vienna? I thought you connected this to a Polish arms dealer.”

Radoslaw Dlugsko operated throughout the world, and there was no reason he couldn’t be in Austria. But pointing that out would do nothing to help Rubens ultimately — and besides, the fact was Vienna didn’t exactly bolster the theory that Dlugsko or UKD was involved. In truth, there was much, much work to be done.

“We’re still gathering information,” said Rubens mildly.

“The programs that Kegan was working on — were they compromised?” asked Hadash.

“He hasn’t worked on germ warfare programs for years,” said Rubens. “But the FBI is reviewing what sort of exposure there is.”

“Why was he contacted?”

“We’re still working on it. There’s nothing new since yesterday,” conceded Rubens. “His lab work over the last few years has mostly dealt with recombinant DNA. There’s a project to breed a bacteria that will eat PCBs and other pollutants. It’s possible that this is about that.”

Hadash made a face. Rubens himself did not believe that, but throwing out different possibilities emphasized the difficulty of the situation. Thus when the problem was solved, those who had solved it would receive sufficient credit.

It would also put problems into the proper perspective.

“We’ve been concentrating on finding him and, more important, tracking down the people who were trying to contact him,” said Rubens.

“And you have nothing new?”

“Hints, but nothing solid.”

Hadash took a long gulp of his coffee. “How serious is the threat?”

“Potentially, extremely serious,” said Rubens.

“Potentially?”

“That’s the best I can say.”

“You’ve tracked the E-mails back?”

Rubens realized where the NSC head was going and sank back in the chair.

“The E-mail messages you recovered?” added Hadash.

“Yes.”

“You tracked them?”

“As far as we could, yes.”

Rubens could offer nothing else. Hadash began talking about the proposal that would provide biometric IDs as part of every Internet activity.

“This makes a good case — an almost airtight case,” said Hadash. “If the biometric ID was in place, you would know.”

“It could easily have been spoofed.”

“Not if it’s properly constructed. At a minimum you would have a starting point to work from.”

“We have starting points now.”

“Not as extensive as Internet DNA,” said Hadash.

Internet DNA. Good God, what a sound bite.

“I don’t believe it’s a good idea,” said Rubens. “And this case certainly isn’t an argument in its favor.”

“Your task force is recommending it be studied.”

“It’s not my task force,” said Rubens quickly. “It’s Homeland Security. Sandra Marshall’s. And I’ve already gone on record as recusing the agency from the recommendation.”

“Recusing or opposing?”

A tactical error, Rubens thought — he had been far too cautious. He should have opposed.

Unless Hadash was pushing it. Which he seemed to be.

“I don’t believe the proposal is in anyone’s best interests,” said Rubens. “Not the government‘s, not the NSA’s, and certainly not our citizens’.”

Hadash frowned. Rubens put the conversation back to its original track.

“Not to change the subject, but British intelligence was apparently a little too aggressive in tracking arrivals at the conference,” said Rubens.

“How so?”

“They attempted to detain one of my agents while she was following Mr. Dean’s kidnappers. They were rather adamant about it, and I’m afraid there was an incident.”

“What did she do?” asked Hadash.

The remark tipped Rubens off that Hadash had already been informed, undoubtedly by the State Department, which would have given him the British version.

“She responded in kind,” Hadash told him.

“Spraying them with pepper gas was responding in kind?”

“Given the circumstances.”

“The British are upset.”

Rubens reached into his suit jacket pocket and took out a printout containing the text of a British protest. “They’re to deliver this protest later today.”

“This wouldn’t have been poached from the British embassy phone lines, would it?” asked Hadash.

“Of course not. The Russians intercepted it and we stole it from them.”

Hadash shook his head. “Why were the British following her?”

“Apparently they were surprised to find Lia in London. We believe it was merely a coincidence. The MI-5 agents happened to be in the station, trailing someone else. They may have thought she was interfering with their project.”

“Quite a coincidence.”

Rubens didn’t trust coincidences, either, but this one did appear to be just that.

“I hope you’ve given this enough priority,” said Hadash.

“Absolutely.”

Rubens rose to go. Hadash stopped him.

“William, the Internet DNA thing. You should know the President has expressed interest.”

“It’s absurd,” said Rubens. “To waste money on a study that will tell you it’s technically unfeasible and politically suicidal?”

The comers of Hadash’s mouth flickered, but he said nothing.