The Beijing conspiracy

CHAPTER 94

‘B usiness or pleasure, Mr Ferraro?’ the young Chinese immigration officer asked, her English greatly improved. The Chinese government had introduced an English program for everyone likely to be involved with international visitors almost as soon as they’d won the Games. Nothing was going to stand in the way of the Beijing Olympics being ‘the best games ever’. The Games were China’s passport into the twenty-first century.

‘Business,’ Ferraro replied politely.

She smiled again as she checked his face against the photo in his American passport. ‘Enjoy your stay.’

The Beijing arrivals hall was packed with thousands of people coming in for the Opening Ceremony of the Games, due in just six days time. al-Falid headed straight for the car park at Terminal 2 where one of Khalid Kadeer’s men was waiting for him.

‘Everything is in place?’ al-Falid asked, taking the bag containing the Walther P38.

His driver nodded. ‘All of our people have been briefed and all of them have access to the airconditioning systems. We picked up the vaccines from the docks at Qingdao and they are being distributed to those who need them here and in Xinjiang,’ he said as they drove out of the airport.

It was nearly midnight by the time they arrived but Peng Yu, al-Qaeda’s sadistic bear farm manager was up and waiting for them.

‘Has Dolinsky arrived?’ al-Falid asked.

‘He a’seep, Mr ’Flid,’ Peng Yu replied.

‘And the staff?’

‘Bear farm crosed for two weeks, just as you request, Mr ’Flid and staff given day off for Games.’

‘What about Dolinsky’s luggage?’

‘Many trunks, Mr ’Flid. In storehouse behind bears.’

‘You have done well, Yu. You can have the holiday as well but I will need your keys,’ he said as he turned to the driver. ‘Pick me up tomorrow.’ For what al-Falid had in mind, he wanted to make sure there were no witnesses.

After the manager and his driver had left, al-Falid returned to his room and took the Walther P38 from the small khaki bag. He checked to see that the magazine was loaded and smiled as he fitted the silencer. Khalid Kadeer was wrong, al-Falid thought. Like Osama bin Laden before him, the Uighur microbiologist had become a rallying point for many in the downtrodden Muslim world, but Kadeer was mistaken in thinking that you could negotiate with the West, just as he was wrong in thinking someone like Dolinsky should be spared. al-Falid feared that once the Georgian scientist realised the utter devastation of the virus he’d created there was a danger that, like those who’d worked on the Manhattan project and the nuclear bomb, he would talk. Anything that might lead back to Amon al-Falid’s identity in the United States had to be eliminated.

He crept up to Dolinsky’s room and inserted the manager’s master key. The door squeaked as he opened it but he need not have worried. The Georgian scientist’s snores were rattling off the thin walls. al-Falid placed the end of the gun barrel centimetres away from the back of Dolinsky’s head. The Walther kicked savagely – twice.