Exit 9

15

The Director of Preparation-the DOP-was now in full charge of Project Eden. Until it came time for the Director of Recovery to take over, no one, not even the Principal Director, could overrule any order given by the DOP. This change of command had been worked out long ago, and had been written into the procedures of the Project. Each part was critical, and the appropriate Director for that segment of the plan would take charge for the duration of that particular phase.

The vote on moving forward had taken place two months earlier. Per protocol, all the Directors and the Principal Director had to vote in the affirmative if implementation was to occur.

Going in, the DOP had not been one hundred percent sure they had the votes. There were a couple of Directors he was just unable to get a read on. Turned out he needn’t have worried. Everyone, without hesitation, voted yes, and from that moment until one month after Implementation Day, he was in charge.

The command center at Bluebird-known unofficially as the Cradle-was two levels below ground. Befitting its importance, the Cradle was large and impressive. It had five semicircular rows of desks, each home to over a dozen manned computer stations. They all faced the curved wall at the front of the room that was covered by over fifty monitors of varying sizes. The center monitor was, naturally, the largest, its high-definition screen providing a level of resolution few other monitors on the planet could match.

Any time the DOP was needed in the Cradle, he used a station in the center of the back row, raised slightly above the others. Ostensibly, this was so he could see everyone, but also, he knew, it reminded the others who was in charge.

He was sitting at the desk, his gaze on the main monitor, which currently was displaying a satellite shot of Australia. Overlaying this was a graphic containing over two hundred Xs representating locations where Implementation Delivery Modules had already been placed. If need be, he could push in on the image until he was looking at an overhead view of one of the IDMs.

Every region of the world had to be looked at on an individual basis. What would work one place might not work somewhere else. But they had known that from the beginning. That’s why it had taken decades from when the plan was conceived to the point where they were only nine days away from actually making it happen. No, Project Eden was definitely no rush job. In the intervening years, extensive research had been done, hundreds of methods had been considered and tested, and best chosen for each need. All so that they could avoid any mistakes when the time to act came.

What they knew from the beginning was that covering every square inch of the planet was out of the question. Whatever virus they developed would have to be potent enough that they need only focus on dense population centers and a few outlining areas, and humanity itself could do the rest of the work, carrying the disease to other areas. If areas where the virus was unable to reach popped up, those could be targeted. KV-27a had turned out to be just that and more. There was no question in anyone’s mind of its potential for success.

The same careful, detailed work had also gone into all other aspects of the Project-the selecting of candidates for survival, the long-range targeting and control of influential officials worldwide to ensure the Project would remain hidden and unhindered, the planning and preparation for after, and the development of the virus itself and its vaccine for those chosen.

With the start of the implementation phase, they had reached a point where everything was just logistics and coordination.

“What’s the problem?” the DOP asked, his voice traveling straight from the microphone in front of him into the ear of the man at the Australia desk, four rows away.

“A ship with fifty IDM packages and one with thirty were delayed by a storm in the Indian Ocean. They’re scheduled to arrive in the next two days. Our contractors in Sydney and Perth have added extra manpower to make sure they get to their destinations within twenty-four hours after offloading.”

The time frame was still well within implementation parameters.

“All right,” the DOP said. “Next.”

The image switched to Southeast Asia, where a combination of several methods would be used throughout the area. Singapore, Malaysia, Indonesia, Thailand, and Vietnam would be dealt with using IDMs. Since Singapore itself was so small, four of the five containers assigned to it would remain right at the harbor, while the other would be on the back of a truck driven to Sembawang on the far side of the island.

Other areas, in places like Phnom Penh in Cambodia and Vientiane in Laos, would mostly be handled by teams of locals using handheld sprayers they’d been told were targeting the malaria-carrying mosquito population.

Which brought them to Burma.

Though the country had started to open back up to the world, its leaders were still highly suspicious. Chances were, at the first sign of a worldwide infection, they would seal the borders. A few carriers might sneak in, and some people might get sick, but the government would undoubtedly terminate them before more could be infected. Getting IDMs into the country wasn’t going to be possible. They had tried to get permission for their anti-malaria spray, even offering to pay for everything themselves, but the Burmese generals who ran things wanted nothing to do with it.

So a third method would be employed. It was the same method that would be used in other troublesome areas like North Korea, Iran, several of the former Soviet Republics in the south, and much of the Middle East: modified passenger planes, painted to look like a local airliner, complete with correct transponder codes. Only instead of passengers, the planes would be carrying more than enough of the virus to drop a fine mist down over the targeted areas.

No nation would be immune.

“Any issues?” he asked.

“Nothing major, sir,” the Southeast Asian supervisor said. “A few local labor problems, money mainly, but we’re taking care of it.”

“And Burma?”

“Planes are in position and ready to be loaded.”

“Good.” The actual loading of the virus would not occur until a few hours before the final Go signal was transmitted.

They worked their way through Southern Asia, the Middle East, Africa, and Europe without any major problems. In the North American report, the DOP was pleased to hear that one of his pet methods of distribution was prepped and ready to go. One of the Project’s front companies had purchased a produce company that created, among other things, specialized produce misters for grocery stores. These misters included cartridges that enhanced the spray so that fruits and vegetables would stay fresh longer. Come Implementation Day, the cartridges-now all ready to go-would replace the standard cartridges the stores were currently using.

Central America went quickly with a no-problem report.

The next satellite image up was South America.

The DOP asked his standard question. “Anything?”

“Not…really, sir.”

The DOP turned from the screen to the desk where the South American rep was sitting. “That sounded like something to me.”

“Just a little issue we’re dealing with.”

“What?”

A pause. “We received a sensor fault on an IDM in Buenos Aires. It’s probably nothing.”

“What kind of fault?”

“The top hatch. One of the sensors was registering a downward stress. But on the next check, everything was fine.”

“Is this the first time?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Explanation?”

“Like I said, sir. I think it was just a fault.”

“But…”

“But I’m sending someone to check.”

“Good.”

Another hesitation. “The closest person with clearance is in Caracas. I’ve told him to get down to Buenos Aires as soon as he can.”

It probably was just an electronic glitch. There’d been a few others. Frankly, the DOP was surprised there weren’t more. With a massive global operation, technical issues were bound to happen. “Keep me posted.”

“Yes, sir. I will.”

“Next.”

The image was replaced by one of the Pacific Islands.