The Third World War: A Terrifying Novel of Global Conflict

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A white United Nations Russian-made helicopter landed at Bagram airbase near Kabul in Afghanistan, staying on the ground just long enough for a single passenger to climb out and get into a waiting UN Land Cruiser. Dressed in a light-green down jacket, the hood up, denim jeans and leather walking boots, the passenger checked his British passport that identified him as Robert Vines. His accompanying papers were copies of his contract with the United Nations Development Programme and a letter stating that he was taking home leave.

The Land Cruiser dropped Vines at Kabul's international terminal, where he was given a boarding pass in the premier economy class cabin of a British Airways flight to London, ensuring that air miles were credited to his account.

At Heathrow, he checked into the Hilton Hotel near Terminal 4, under the name of Michel Juliet, travelling on a French passport that had been issued in Lyon. He stayed in the room for five hours, meeting the same man twice. That afternoon, using Michel Juliet's passport with a matching green card, he travelled economy class on Virgin Atlantic to New York and took a cab to the Paramount Hotel near Times Square where a suite was booked for him under the name of William Thomas, an American from Los Angeles.

At each stage of the journey Hassan Muda destroyed the documents of his previous identity.

Of all the hotels around Times Square, the Paramount would be the most difficult in which to identify a face. He had chosen it because the lobby was dark, lit only by dim wall lights and candles. His suite was small and run down, but it did have two rooms in which he could work.

On the upper shelf of the wardrobe, underneath a spare blanket, Muda found a suitcase. Hanging the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the handle, he double locked the door, closed the bedroom door, double locked that, lifted down the suitcase and opened it.

The contents were packed exactly as he had instructed.

He took out the NBC suit but put it to one side unopened, together with the respirator. He tested the bed, happy that it was firm enough, and laid the specially tailored Gore-tex waistcoat on it, opening up both sides. He took a strip of Semtex-H plastic explosive and slipped it into a polythene bag. Then he pressed a tiny electric detonator into the explosive, ran a wire outside the bag and attached it to a nine-volt battery which he slipped into a left inside pocket of the waistcoat. He cut open the lining of his own jacket and took out a wafer-thin plastic phial which he taped into a lower inside pocket of the waistcoat.

He repeated the whole process exactly for the right side of the waistcoat and finally cross-duplicated the detonators on to the batteries in case one failed. He folded the waistcoat, put it back into the suitcase and locked it. He checked the aerosol canisters at the bottom of the suitcase and left them sealed by his bedside.

Hassan Muda prayed.

Before going to sleep, he brought out another phial, opened a sealed packet containing a hypodermic needle and syringe, filled it and injected himself with the virus variola major.

When he woke in the morning, he had a slight fever, but not bad enough to stop him catching the train to Philadelphia, then Washington. By the time he was flying back to New York and going through at La Guardia, he had discarded his aerosol canisters.