The enemy, p.6
The Enemy, page 6
“This is what I asked myself” Kezri said. “His company has enormous manufacturing facilities, compared to what is available in my country. I think my government has made a deal with this man to produce the protein in large amounts. I think they intend to use my work to control or kill many people. Maybe attack Israel. Maybe something else, I don’t know. I found out they were testing my research in another location and something went wrong. Everyone in that lab died. I do not want to help them kill people. It is why I defected.”
The lab in the video, Elizabeth thought.
“I have a question,” Nick said. “If someone wants to use this as a weapon, how would they go about it? How would it be deployed?”
“The easiest way would be to introduce a virus into the targeted population,” Kezri said. “That part is perhaps not very hard. Then create a vaccine to inject the protein into the body. After that, the virus would carry it to the brain. More difficult is transmission of the activating signal.”
“Could it be done with existing technology?”
“Yes, with cell phone technology. But it would require cooperation by government agencies controlling transmission systems and towers.”
“That’s the only way?”
“It is possible transmissions could be sent from satellites. That also would require government cooperation.”
“Any government that did that would start a war,” Nick said. “It would be an act of lunacy.”
“When did that ever stop anyone?” Ronnie said.
“You are cynic,” Valentina said.
“Nah, I’m a realist.”
Elizabeth tapped her pen on her desk. “Any other questions for Doctor Kezri?”
“I have one,” Selena said. “Once people have been infected with this virus containing the protein, is there any way to block the transmission that activates it?”
“No,” Kezri said. “Not in a practical sense. A Faraday cage will stop the transmission. Perhaps some people will be protected because of being inside. That would depend on the structure of the building. Aside from that, no.”
“I can think of a way,” Nick said. “Destroy the transmitter.”
“Gotta find it first,” Lamont said. “We can’t go around destroying cell phone towers. And what if the signal is from a satellite?”
“We’ll brainstorm this later,” Elizabeth said. “If no one has any more questions, Clarence is going to take Doctor Kezri someplace where the Iranians can’t find her.”
Chapter 13
Carl Hauser lived in a sprawling mansion set on two thousand acres of prime Texas hill country near Austin. Built of granite and timber, the house radiated money and power. The entrance was marked by a four hundred year old marble fountain, where angels and demons wrestled in eternal struggle under soaring streams of water. To the left of the main house was a complex of smaller buildings.
A garage with twenty bays housed a collection of exotic cars. Beyond the garage were a helicopter hangar and concrete helipad. A large shop contained all the equipment and supplies necessary to maintain the property. The servant quarters and security force barracks were in a two-story building behind the garage. A windowless square building next to the barracks housed a massive Cray supercomputer, banks of security monitors, and the communications center.
It took a lot of people to maintain Hauser’s sense of well-being. Everyone who lived on the estate had only one purpose, to serve him.
Hauser seldom left his luxurious home. Occasionally, he would appear at certain key events. An important charity, perhaps, or an exclusive gathering of financial and government leaders. The meetings that really mattered were never seen by the public.
Hauser found people distasteful. There were few reasons to expose himself to the common mass of humanity. Everything he needed to conduct his empire was here in Texas, at his fingertips. His communication systems used encrypted security that was better than the CIA’s. He could meet remotely with anyone he chose, anywhere in the world, without fear of being overheard.
Like Napoleon, a person he greatly admired, Hauser was a short man. He topped out at a little over five feet, four inches tall, an unchangeable fact that had shaped his life. He was not particularly good-looking. His face was pinched, his skull elongated as if it had been squeezed. His eyes were black as coal. His nose was sharp and pointed, like the beak of a predatory bird.
Hauser was finishing his breakfast in the dining room. A silent servant dressed as an English butler stood discretely to one side. Hauser was thinking about Kezri and considering what to do about her. News of her defection had arrived the night before. How could those fools have allowed her to escape?
At first, he’d been angry. With time to think, is anger changed to reasoned assessment of the damage done. The fact was that Kezri was no longer needed, or essential to success. Her work was already in the hands of others. Development of a modified virus to carry the genetic protein she had engineered was well underway at his German facility.
Kezri hadn’t known she’d been working for him, but it didn’t matter. She knew too much. Her defection could not to be tolerated. Retribution was required. He decided to make it today’s first order of business.
He addressed the butler.
“Harrison, have fresh coffee sent to the library.”
“At once, sir.”
“Get hold of Strecker. Send him to me.”
“Yes, sir.”
Gerhardt Strecker was Hauser’s chief of security. He was also a man entirely without morals or conscience.
Hauser got up and made his way to the library in the east wing of the mansion. The library was the nerve center of his business empire, a room deceptive in appearance, considering the kind of power that emanated from it. At first glance it seemed a place for peaceful contemplation and study. A bucolic scene of the English countryside painted by John Constable dominated one wall, a painting worth many millions of dollars. Two of the walls were lined from floor to ceiling with books, including the complete works of the great philosophers, from Plato to Nietzsche. Hauser had read and studied them all. He was particularly fond of Nietzsche. A life-sized marble bust of Nietzsche was mounted in a place of honor, near tall windows that overlooked the rolling acres of the estate.
Beneath the windows was an ornate desk of walnut inlaid with gold and mother-of-pearl. It had once belonged to Czar Nicholas II. A large monitor placed on the polished surface seemed like an insult to the graceful beauty of the desk.
Hauser sat down and placed his hand on a scanner to the left of the computer. The monitor lit with swirling colors. A robotic voice sounded from hidden speakers.
Waiting.
A servant appeared bearing a silver tray and coffee service. Hauser indicated a side table between two leather armchairs.
“Set it there.”
“Yes, sir.”
Hauser dictated details about Kezri’s defection, information he’d gotten from his contacts in Iran. When he was done, he told the computer to print it.
Hauser got up, took the sheet of paper from the printer, and went over to the table. He sat down in one of the armchairs and poured a cup of coffee. There was a light knock at the open door.
“You sent for me, sir?”
“Yes, Gerhardt, come in. Sit down. Have some coffee. It’s a new blend I’m trying. Comes from high up in the Andes.”
Gerhardt Strecker was in charge of worldwide security for Hauser’s businesses. Thirty-five years old, a little over six feet tall, he was an intimidating presence. He was muscular, square jawed, blonde haired, rugged looking. Hauser sometimes found himself thinking the man resembled a character out of a second-rate action comic, but there was nothing second-rate about Strecker. His eyes were cold, hard blue. Women found Strecker attractive, but those who got close to him soon regretted it.
Strecker wore a tailored suit that concealed the shoulder holster he habitually wore. His white shirt gleamed in the morning light coming through the windows. His tasteful silk tie displayed a perfect Windsor knot, his shoes were shined to perfection.
Hauser appreciated Strecker’s attention to detail, just as he appreciated the fact that his chief of security was no ordinary thug, for thug he was.
Strecker was the product of a first-class European education, intelligent, ambitious, and competent. He was one of those people who are born without the capacity for human empathy, which made him useful for Hauser’s purposes.
His private life was not something for public scrutiny. Hauser was aware of Strecker’s peculiar addictions, but chose to overlook them. Strecker in turn made sure nothing he did off-duty could come back in a way to endanger his employer. Their relationship was based on unspoken recognition of something dark that lived within each of them, and on their respective roles as leader and follower.
Strecker sat and helped himself to coffee.
“I have a problem,” Hauser said. “I’d like you to take care of it for me.”
“Anything I can do to help, sir.”
Hauser handed him the sheet of paper he’d dictated. Briefly, he explained about Kezri’s defection. He didn’t bother elaborating on what exactly she had been doing, or why she was important. Strecker didn’t need to know that.
“I want to know where she is now and who got her out of Iran. When you have that information, contact me.”
“Do you want her eliminated?”
“Possibly. We’ll discuss that when you find out what I need to know.”
“Yes, sir.”
“This takes priority, Gerhardt. Turn over your other duties to Jensen.”
Richard Jensen was Strecker’s deputy.
“Davos is next week. There’s been no change in your plans?” Strecker asked.
“No, no change. I’m going.”
“I’ll try to get this done before then. I like to be present when you’re away from the compound.”
“I appreciate your loyalty, Gerhardt, but don’t let that distract you from finding Kezri.”
“Of course not, sir.” Strecker finished his coffee. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d better get started.”
“Close the door after you.”
With Strecker gone, Hauser turned his thoughts to the upcoming meeting of the Global Future Symposium at Davos. The GFS brought members of the financial, scientific, business, and political elite together to brainstorm solutions to the world’s many problems. Predictably, plans produced by the meetings were met with hostility and resistance by the common people. They simply didn’t have the intelligence to appreciate that what was planned and implemented by their betters was for their own good.
Soon that won’t be much of an issue, Hauser thought.
He sat enjoying his coffee. It really was a tasty blend.
Chapter 14
Elizabeth closed the file on Carl Hauser and turned to Stephanie.
“We need to know more about this man, Steph. What he’s planning. What he’s doing.”
“I thought you might say that,” Stephanie said. “There’s a way we can find out.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“The man’s an eccentric. Anyone else would run all those corporations he owns from an office somewhere in a big city. Hauser isn’t like that. He’s almost a recluse. He hates being in public. He controls everything from his house in Texas. You can’t do that without sophisticated computer technology.”
“Go on.”
“I looked up the plans for his compound. His servers are on site. If I can hack into them, we might find out what we need to know. At least some of it, anyway.”
“You think you can get past the firewalls without being detected?”
“I got into Langley without being blocked or traced. It couldn’t be harder than that. You know I like a challenge.”
“Mmm. All right. Give it a try.”
The gold bangles on Stephanie’s wrist jingled against each other as she rose from her chair.
“I’ll let you know as soon as I have something.”
She paused at the entrance of the computer room for a retinal scan, waited for the glass doors to hiss open, and walked to the wide console that was the heart of her domain. She sat down and sighed.
Are you all right, Stephanie? The sound you just made indicates possible distress.
“I’m fine, Freddie, thank you for asking. It’s just nice sometimes to sit down in a comfortable chair and take a load off my feet.”
Perhaps you should lose some weight, Stephanie. Then there would not be so much of a load for your feet.
“Let’s not go there, Freddie.”
I was making a joke, Stephanie.
“That wasn’t very funny, Freddie. You have a lot to learn about humor. Anyway, we have a job to do.”
Is it a difficult job?
“I think you’ll find it challenging.”
I enjoy a challenging task, Stephanie. What will we be doing?
“I want to hack into another computer. I’m certain the security is very high. I need you to probe the firewalls and tell me what we’re up against.”
Where is the computer located?
“In Texas. Please access your database for data on Carl Hauser.”
Accessing now. I have the information.
“Do you have the location of his servers?”
Yes, Stephanie.
“Good. Begin probe. When you discover the firewall, display the coding for me. Do not attempt to gain access.”
Probing now.
There was a pause of a few seconds.
There are four firewalls. I am displaying the sequencing and coding for you now.
Four was more than she’d expected. It made it more difficult, but not impossible.
“Please print the information.”
The printer chattered. When it was done, Stephanie looked at the results. Line after line after line of code. This was going to take a while. She got to work. As she analyzed the programming, she found herself admiring the thinking behind it. It was elegant, there was no other word for it. It was going to be a real challenge to break through.
Several hours later, she rubbed her eyes and stretched, certain she’d found a way in. Her fingers flew over the keys. Her monitor filled with lines of code.
“Freddie?”
Yes, Stephanie.
“Are you ready to go?”
I am always ready, Stephanie.
She hit enter.
Working.
Now all she had to do was wait. Freddie would do the rest. Unless he ran into a problem, then she might have to intervene. She stretched again. Lord, she was tired. She hadn’t been getting much sleep lately. Lucas was overworked, coming home late more often than not. She looked forward to the day when he’d leave Langley. She was amazed that he was still there. He’d gotten to where he was on his own merit, but Lucas was Clarence Hood’s protégé. Hood had been opposed to the new regime. In the politics of the intelligence world, Hood’s former patronage meant Lucas was a marked man.
I have accessed the core directory.
“Look for anything involving Doctor Jahleh Kezri. Any mention of magnetized protein, virus, or Iran.”
The printer began spitting out paper.
There are many files, Stephanie. I will...
“Freddie?”
I have been detected. Counter measures are...
The computer went silent.
“Freddie?”
There was no response.
“Freddie, please reply.”
The monitor on her desk went dark.
“Shit,” Stephanie said.
Chapter 15
Elizabeth had dressed in her usual black pants suit and a white blouse. A gold and emerald salamander was pinned over her left breast. Everyone was present.
“We have a problem,” she said. “Freddie is off-line.”
“Freddie’s down?” Selena asked. “What happened?”
“I hacked into Hauser’s mainframe,” Stephanie said. “It was going well. I got through the firewalls. There were a lot of files referencing Kezri. I started downloading. Then Freddie said he’d been detected and that countermeasures were being taken. A second later, he shut down.”
“Oh, oh,” Lamont said.
“Yes, oh, oh. Whatever they did, it activated an emergency shutdown I’d programmed in as a failsafe. That can only happen if Freddie’s firewalls have been fully compromised.”
“Does that mean someone got into our files?” Elizabeth asked.
“The emergency shutdown is triggered by the security breach. It happens really fast. They wouldn’t have had much time to access files, but they probably got something.”
“Do they know Freddie’s location?”
“Almost certainly.”
“How soon will he be up and running?”
“I can’t tell you that, Elizabeth. Computer systems need a programmed, ordered sequence for trouble-free shutdown. This wasn’t like that. It was a total crash. It’s possible critical files may have been corrupted, but I won’t know until I reboot. With Freddie, rebooting is not a simple process. If no files have been damaged, it will take most of a day.”
“And if they have?”
Stephanie shrugged. “Then it will take longer. I’d like to get started, if you don’t need me here.”
“Go ahead, Steph.”
Stephanie got up and left the room.
“Let’s review what we know,” Elizabeth said. “We know Hauser is in bed with the Iranians and that his pharmaceutical company was monitoring Kezri’s research.”
“He’s probably been funding it as well,” Nick said. “Why else would the Iranians give him that kind of access?”
“We don’t know that for sure, although you’re probably right. It does look like they’ve handed over production of the protein to him.”
“Doctor Kezri said the carrier for the protein is a virus,” Selena said. “Hauser’s German facility is a BSL4, a Level 4 biohazard lab. That’s as high as it gets. Everything you’d need to create a perfect virus. Something nasty.”
