The Janus Reprisal

29

Klein got the call about the freighter from the director general of the World Health Organization while he was at a dinner reception for a major contributor to President Castilla’s campaign. He stepped outside the ballroom to take the call.

“Mr. Klein? I’ve been asked to convey this information to you by the president. We’ve discovered a freighter floating off the coast of Syria. It was disabled, and aerial reconnaissance revealed that every member of the crew was dead.”

“Because you’re calling me and not Syrian diplomatic personnel, I presume the deaths were not battle related but disease related?” Klein said.

“We’re not sure. The freighter floated into Syrian waters shortly after our reconnaissance. Syria is refusing us access to the ship.”

Klein walked farther away from the ballroom, nodding at an acquaintance passing in the hall.

“How many crew members?”

“Thirty-three. Their last port of embarkation was Cyprus approximately six hours ago.”

“Were they alive then?”

“Yes. All of them. And they appeared healthy.”

“That has to be a mass shooting. What disease can kill that quickly?”

“Our reconnaissance photos managed to snap pictures of at least fifteen crew members scattered on the boat. We’ve zoomed in on each, and none show any signs of gunshot wounds or blast injuries. Three are lying in pools of vomit.”

“Poison?”

“Doubtful.”

“Why not?”

“Because while Syria is refusing us access, it’s also flatly refusing to send a medical or forensic crew to it. They intend to fly over and drop a bomb on the ship to destroy it.”

Klein stopped walking. “They’re going to blow the thing out of the water? What in the world is on that ship that they don’t want us to discover? Polonium-210?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Polonium-210 is what the Russians slipped to their unfortunate former spy. He died in a London hospital days later. It’s highly toxic, but requires a lot of expertise to use.”

“I think they’re afraid to set foot on it. I’m concerned that this may have something to do with the missing mutated avian flu strain. The freighter began its journey from the port in Rotterdam.”

“Ah, now I understand,” Klein said. “The attack on the Grand Royal and the coolers.”

“Exactly.”

“How many can a mutated avian flu strain kill?”

“Avian flu is rare, deadly, and carries a fifty percent death rate. The mutation is new and we’re just compiling statistics, but our computer models suggest a mutation that would allow human-to-human transmission could kill up to ninety-seven percent of those infected.”

“Do you think it can kill with the kind of speed that you’re describing? Can someone go from appearing healthy to dead that quickly?”

“I can’t answer your question except to tell you this: During the 1917 Spanish flu that killed over seventeen million people, there was a story of four women in a bridge club who played into the early hours of the morning. They broke up, went home, and three never saw the sun rise.”

Amir learned of his crippled freighter when a member of his crew operating in Syria sent him the intelligence. An hour after that, he received a demand from Dattar to wire the money immediately and without repayment terms. Dattar said that if he did not receive the funds, he would release his weapon in Cyprus.

Amir sent the wire.