I closed the door, activated the electronic lock, picked up the phone and asked the operator for the Oval Office.
The phone was answered immediately and I heard the president’s voice. It was clear he was exhausted, but it was equally obvious that his spirits were buoyed by the expectation of good news. I had told them I would have the Saracen’s full name, date of birth and probably a photo. I had found them too, I just hadn’t anticipated they would be useless.
Whisperer announced that he was on the line as well, and I think he guessed from my downbeat greeting that a disaster was heading down the pike. Like any good case officer he had learned to judge every nuance of a joe’s behaviour. ‘What is it?’ he asked, his voice tightening.
I told it to them hard and cold and straight, like one of those accident reports you read in the daily news. I said that, despite all our efforts and the great promise of a few hours ago, we had nothing to work with. Nothing at all.
There was a terrible silence.
‘One minute we were cock of the walk, next a feather duster,’ Whisperer said finally. ‘It’s a bust—’
‘Busted flat and out of time,’ the president added, the exhaustion, stripped of its veneer of hope, coming through loud and clear.
‘What about the others?’ I asked. ‘Everybody who’s looking for the nuclear trigger. Anything from them?’
‘A hundred thousand people and nothing,’ Grosvenor replied.
‘I figure we never had a chance. I think we ran into the perfect storm—’ Whisperer started to say.
‘A cleanskin flying solo,’ I said.
‘A cleanskin, yes. But not totally solo – no,’ he replied.
‘What do you mean?’
‘In Afghanistan – he must have had help for at least a short period. A man flying solo can’t grab three hostages.’
He was right, but it didn’t seem important and, anyway, the president was already moving on.
‘We’ll pick up the woman – what’s her name, Cumali? – as soon as possible. Is that the plan?’ he asked Whisperer.
‘Yeah. Pilgrim believes she’s in the dark – am I right?’
‘Pretty much,’ I said. ‘As Whisperer probably told you, Mr President, she has a way of contacting him, but I think it will be booby-trapped. She’ll misplace a letter, use a different word – it’ll warn him to run.’
‘You may be right,’ the president said. ‘He bought a damn death certificate, he’s smart enough – but we have to try.’
‘I’ll send a team in fast,’ Whisperer said. ‘We’ll get her out of Turkey, rendition her to Bright Light.’
Bright Light was the code name for Khun Yuam, the CIA secret prison I had visited up on the Thai–Burma border. The story was that once somebody disappeared into Bright Light, they didn’t emerge. It was strange – given the magnitude of the events which we were confronting – but I couldn’t help thinking about the little guy and what would happen to him. Back to an orphanage in either Gaza or Turkey, I figured. Wherever it was, there wouldn’t be much bowing and laughter.
‘At dawn, or near enough, I’ll issue an executive order,’ Grosvenor continued, ‘and close the borders. We’ll isolate the country the best we can – airports, land crossings, ports of entry, everything we can think of.’
It was obvious they were still heading down the human-vector track and, even if they were right about the method of dispersal, over half a million illegal aliens entered the country every year – a good indication that any attempt to secure the borders would be of little use. Like the old virologist had said: sooner or later, we all sit down to a banquet of consequences.
Even though I didn’t think their plan would work, I said nothing. I had no alternative, so it would have been churlish to tear it apart without having something better to offer. They were doing their best to keep the country afloat, that was all.
‘We don’t have to say it’s smallpox,’ Whisperer suggested. ‘We could claim it’s a highly virulent avian flu. As bad as it is, it’s not freighted with the same terror. Once you say “smallpox” and add “sledgehammer”, it’s gonna be like Mount Everest – it’ll make its own weather.’
‘No,’ Grosvenor replied – he had obviously thought of it too. ‘What happens when the truth gets out? Our only hope is the cooperation of the public – given the chance, Americans always rise to the occasion. Betray them and you’ve lost ’em. One vector, one trace, that’s all we need and we can track it backwards. I also plan to release the vaccine. I don’t know if it will do any good, but we have to try everything and use what we’ve got.’