Mission Critical

Janice Won interrupted. “No. I am a scientist, Mr. Mars. I don’t want a layman’s estimation. I need firm information to do my job. I need more information.”

“What are you telling me?”

“I am telling you it is no longer negotiable. You reveal the target to me, now, or I leave this project.”

Mars was not a man to take ultimatums quietly, even if they were reasonable, as he had to allow that this one was. But he caught himself from lashing out. He saw Won as a crucial and powerful weapon, but one that needed to be carefully handled to prevent a misfire.

Despite some misgivings he said, “Doctor . . . you are quite right. It’s time.” He put the tea down on the table and sat back, crossing his legs. “Do you know what the term Five Eyes refers to?”

The younger woman made a face of frustration. “You do know I have training as an intelligence operative, don’t you?”

Mars held a hand up. “My apologies, Doctor. I did not mean to be patronizing. Well, you are probably also aware that Five Eyes has a conference each year in a different location, but you might not know that this year it will be here, in Scotland. First there will be a series of meetings in London, but only among the principals and their deputies. Then they will join their larger staffs at a thirteenth-century castle and resort property in the Highlands, just south of Inverness.”

Won nodded slowly. “How many people?”

“There will be over four hundred intelligence officers, executives, security personnel, and administrators, meeting each day at the property. Many are staying there, but all the hotels and rooms to let in the area are filled, as well. Each of the five nations will have a full array of representatives in attendance.”

Her eyes widened with the recognition of the opportunity before her. “Who, specifically, will be at this location?”

“As you are probably aware, the U.S. intelligence community contains sixteen separate agencies, and key members of all of them will be represented. CIA, NSA, FBI, Homeland Security, Office of Naval Intelligence, and so on and so forth. One hundred seventy attendees at the conference will be American. The British have ninety attending. Canada, New Zealand, and Australia have smaller contingents, but it is not the sheer number of people at the castle that is important.”

Won knew what he meant by this, because this was Won’s field of expertise. “No, it’s the access these people have to their coworkers when they return to their respective countries after the conference.”

“Precisely,” said Mars. “Think about almost two hundred or so members of the U.S. intel community leaving the conference and returning to Langley, their foreign stations, military bases, wherever. If they are infected with the disease, they would not show symptoms for days, giving them plenty of time to intermingle unknowingly with their colleagues. They will be hosts for this quickly spreading weapon.”

When she spoke again Mars was fascinated by her nimble mind’s instant transformation into utter mission focus. “We don’t need to worry about the bacteria. We will have more than double what we need for this task. I have this under control. We must talk about the proper means of delivery and distribution of the bacteria. This castle will have some sort of natural ventilation we can use. Aerosol delivery would be best and most efficient, but we’ll have to find a way to ensure that no one detects anything amiss when the attack happens. We have to infect the population without them realizing it.”

Mars was pleased that he had revealed more information to Won, because now he could concentrate on the op fully. He said, “Too true. We can’t shell the building with mortars filled with plague, because they would realize they had been attacked, and doctors would simply give all the attendees antibiotics.”

“Exactly,” she said. “The virus needs to incubate in the body for only eight hours, and then it is terminal. Only heavy antibiotics—Cefalexin, for example—administered within that short window can save the infected patient.”

Won added, “We can use a crop duster. It is an effective means of delivery, assuming they use them in Scotland.”

“They are all over the Scottish Highlands,” Mars said. “Used to keep back the heather and bracken that grows insidiously there.”

“I will have to check the weather conditions, and you’ll need to find a good pilot. Precision will be required.”

“I am already working on that. Now, the location of the Five Eyes conference is Castle Enrick, on Loch Ness. The location is rented out for conferences, but the rest of the time it is a five-star hotel. My agents and I have stayed there at different times over the past two months looking for vulnerabilities. If you like, you and I can stay the night, as well.”

Won immediately snapped back, “In separate rooms, I assume?”

Mars flashed a glance to Fox. “Certainly, Doctor.” Fox smiled, his way of showing Mars that this woman was nuts. Mars said, “Don’t worry, Dr. Won. This entire enterprise is not just a means for me to get to know you better.”

She did not react to this. “How soon can this be arranged?”

“How does the weekend sound?”

“Excellent,” Won said, and for the first time in the conversation she smiled.

PRESENT DAY

The London rain stopped long before the sun went down, and by eleven p.m. the summer air was cool and misty.

Court found himself on a different roof closer to Terry Cassidy’s office now, right next door to the one he’d spent six hours on earlier in the day. He’d chosen this building because it was directly across from ductwork that ran up the length of his target location, and although the aluminum piping looked wet and not exactly sturdy, he thought he could use it to his advantage. He had a climbing harness and gloves with him and had decided his best bet was to go down and cross the street out of sight of the guards in the lobby, and then make his way up the wall and move all the way up to either the rooftop to access the door there or, better still, find some breachable window along the way.

He was taking his time, though. There was always more tactical intelligence to pull off a target before acting, and many an operation had failed because someone had decided they knew enough to push ahead when they were, in fact, missing the one critical piece of information that spelled the difference between life and death.

He had his suppressed and subsonic short-barreled rifle up here with him, but it was zipped in its case. He had no plans to shoot anybody tonight, but he’d wanted the weapon on hand in case organized criminal elements who were clearly working with Cassidy were present and this whole thing went south.

He’d climb carrying only his Glock, which wasn’t much firepower, but slinging the .300 Blackout SBR up the side of a building on his back, using the thin aluminum and wet masonry as foot and handholds, would be no fun at all.