The Conspiracy II Page 7

  “You want me to do my virus test?” said Rob, changing the subject. Living in London had given him a different perspective on many things. He’d always tried to follow a middle ground. It was the path his mother had always advocated. But he had defended the United States many times in London, explaining how the US uplifted minorities, contradicting the biased views of some Europeans. He’d found out that changing people’s minds on such things was not easy. So he’d learned to say his piece and move on.

  “Yes, Dr. McNeil, for sure. We need to get it done before we head out to our main laboratory,” said Bishop.

  “Where’s that?”

  “Maryland, about an hour from here,” said Bishop.

  “We can get there in fifty minutes with the reduced traffic these days,” said Faith.

  “Where in Maryland?” said Rob.

  “Just outside Frederick,” said Bishop.

  Rob’s heart tightened. “At Fort Detrick?”

  “Yep, we operate on Fort Detrick land. It helps with the security.”

  Rob had, of course, heard of Fort Detrick, the main United States biological weapons development and testing center since the second world war. There were rumors that Coronavirus strains had been enhanced there. He’d often wondered if he would end up working there.

  A few people he knew had worked at Fort Detrick. They’d all been very positive about the place. The undercurrent in the conversations he’d had was always how you could take what you learned there and use it to help private enterprise make a killing.

  “I’ve never been there,” he said.

  “Well, we won’t be going to the main facility. They closed some of that a few years ago. But you will get a flavor of the place.”

  “They didn’t close you down too?”

  “No, we’re totally separate.”

  “I heard there was a biological containment breach. Did that not affect you?”

  “No, and the facilities there came fully back on line in April, just over a month ago,” said Bishop. “We’re delighted to see them all working again. There was never any real breach. It was a protocol issue. A misunderstanding. Someone at the CDC was being over-zealous.”

  Rob had heard about the incident. It was big news in the vaccine research community before the pandemic had changed everything.

  “Weren’t researchers from Fort Detrick also working on Coronavirus research on bats with Chinese researchers?” asked Rob.

  “It was a small study. It’s all stopped now by order of the president,” said Bishop with a disinterested shrug. “I’ll order a car to pick us up out front. Meet me down there after your test.”

  Faith took him to a small room with a green cross on the door. A woman in a full hazmat suit took a blood sample.

  “Sit, five minutes, please,” said the woman after taking some blood, gesturing toward some black plastic seats in a screened off waiting area. Rob went there but remained standing.

  “Things are moving fast,” said Rob, when the woman disappeared. Faith was standing just outside the seating area, checking her phone.

  “There’s a lot going on you don’t know about,” she said, keeping her head down.

  “OK, but I’ve security clearance now. I’m a TOTALVACS employee,” said Rob. “You can tell me anything.”

  “No, you’re a partner employee,” said Faith, with a shake of her head. “You have limited clearance.”

  “A trusted partner, I hope. And if you guys want help, you are going to have to open up a little about what’s going on.”

  Faith looked up from her phone. She looked concerned. “We have a contamination problem, Rob. I can tell you that, because it’s public information. I can also tell you that we don’t know where it originates. That too is public information.”

  “Connecting the dots. That’s why I’m here, right?” said Rob.

  “And a lot more than that, too,” said Faith.

  The woman came back with his test results. They were on her smartphone.

  “Open up your Bluetooth,” she said.

  Rob tapped at his phone. A Bluetooth request popped up. He accepted it. A TOTALVACS app appeared on his screen seconds later. When he opened it, a green circle showed he was clear of the virus.

  “You’re quick,” he said.

  “We have the fastest test in the world,” she said, proudly.

  “Let’s go,” said Faith. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

  19

  Washington DC, June 1st, 2020

  Vladimir sat up straighter in the All Services vehicle two blocks from TOTALVACS. They had traced over a hundred vehicles exiting the building and had matched them to probable staff addresses, possible partner buildings, and other government locations.

  The location that interested him most was the Wilshire Creek Condos. It was a known apartment complex Chinese Embassy staff used. The AI tracking system had also identified a vehicle coming from the Wilshire Creek complex and dropping someone off at TOTALVACS that morning.

  The system was a serious step up from the local traffic management system, able to track the comings and goings at target locations and linking them together. Privacy advocates would be incensed if they knew what was happening, but what they didn’t know couldn’t annoy them.

  This was the cutting edge of Russian state security software. Only FSB and some senior Russian government staff even knew it existed, though it was likely that the CIA was aware of the system and even had its own.

  They very likely had spies inside the FSB.

  He peered closer at the screen. The camera focused on the front of the TOTALVACS building showed a black Chevy had pulled up. Vladimir let out a soft “Ha,” when he saw who was coming out of the building.

  Rob and Faith climbed into the waiting Chevy. It headed west toward George Washington Memorial Parkway.

  “We need to follow them,” said Vladimir, pointing after the vehicle. If they went outside the city, he would lose them on the DC vehicle tracking cameras.

  The All Services vehicle Vladimir was in followed the Chevy at a good distance, at least four to five cars behind. After they reached the George Washington Memorial Parkway, they drove for about eight miles until the Chevy exited onto the I-495, and a few miles later, onto the I-270 heading into Maryland.

  “Hold back,” said Vladimir to the driver when they reached the I-270. If the driver of the Chevy was using standard procedures, he’d be watching for any vehicles that followed his highway exits.

  And it didn’t take a genius to work out where Rob and Faith were going. The FSB had also managed to tap into the traffic surveillance system around Fort Detrick only a year before. Vladimir would know, if they turned onto the US-40W, that that was where they were heading.

  Tracking the movements of staff and visitors around Fort Detrick had been a Holy Grail for the FSB for decades.

  Fort Detrick was where the CIA and the United States military experimented with mind-control, crop destruction, and all types of biological weapons. It was of interest to the Russian state what went on there. If Rob was involved with Fort Detrick, everything had changed. He’d heard a rumor in Moscow that Coronaviruses had not only been experimented on at Fort Detrick, but that someone had transported a batch to Wuhan for further gain-of-function experiments to be carried out and that an accidental leak of that work, by the Chinese, had caused the current pandemic.

  A lot of vaccine experiments had been moved to China, not just the ones that required human subjects, so it was plausible that it had escaped. Although there was an alternative theory that the release was not an accident.

  If he found out any evidence of that, he was bound to report it immediately. Moscow would light up in excitement if he did.

  Vladimir watched as the Chevy up ahead turned onto the US-40W.

  “Don’t follow them,” he told the driver. He tapped at the keyboard. He had to find out more about what Dr. Robert McNeil was up to.

  20

  Maryland, June 1st, 2020
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br />   The traffic was moving fast. The pandemic had certainly done away with a lot of traffic jams.

  “Clear behind,” said the driver. He’d been watching his rearview mirror intently since they’d been on the I-95.

  “Good,” said Bishop. He was sitting up front with the driver. Faith and Rob were behind. Bishop had hardly spoken since they’d left K Street.

  Fifteen minutes later they passed a sign saying Nallin Farm Gate, Fort Detrick. They didn’t turn in. Rob sat quietly in the back.

  A few minutes later, on a quiet part of the road, with a dense covering of oak hickory trees on either side, they pulled off the road and headed up a forest access path.

  The path ended a minute later at the high black-mesh fence that headed away on each side into the trees. The Chevy stopped. The fence was topped with razor wire. A second fence lay behind it.

  There was no guardhouse at the gate. They waited. Bishop tapped at his smartphone screen impatiently, as if summoning someone to open the gate ahead.

  A buzzing noise, like a flock of bees, came from outside the Chevy. Rob looked around. At first, he thought a flock of birds had descended on them. Then he realized what it was. A swarm of micro-drones had surrounded their vehicle. One hovered at each window. Each had a tiny camera lens pointing into the vehicle.

  “This is up-to-date security,” said Rob.

  “They can disable a vehicle,” said Bishop. “Make sure you smile for the camera.”

  With a rising hum, the swarm rose above them. The gate in front of them slid open.

  They drove along the road, which twisted and turned up the side of a hill until finally, they pulled up at an entrance set into the hillside. The smoked glass door had the roots of a tree hanging above it. It looked like something from an alien movie.

  Bishop turned to him. “Never speak about what you see here. Never write down your memories of this facility and especially never tell anyone close to you anything about this location.”

  “How will you know if I do?”

  Bishop shook his head. “Trust me, we know everything. We know if you’ve ever visited a porn site since the internet was invented, what your political view is, how it’s evolved, and every medical condition you ever looked up online. We know everything.”

  Faith nudged his arm. “Don’t worry, I vouched for you. The State Department did a full internet history search with every ISP you’ve ever been registered with. There was nothing unusual. Except,” she said and smiled, “you have a weird taste in movies.”

  Rob didn’t smile back. He didn’t care what they found out about him. What he wanted, was to know if they could help him. And surely, if they had all this data, they had to know the name of the person who’d invited him to Paris. Peter was just as likely not going to even bother emailing him what he knew. Early confirmation of who had lured him to Paris would be a very good thing.

  “Let’s go inside,” said Bishop.

  The door into the underground offices slid open as Bishop approached. Ahead was a long passage leading straight into the hill. A disinfecting station stood to the left. They sanitized their hands and put on white N-95 masks.

  “Being underground helps avoid snoopers,” said Bishop. They headed down the passage to a bank of three elevators. Bishop looked into an iris scanner. A silver elevator door on the left slid open and they went inside. The floor buttons were marked with a minus sign. They went down to minus five—the lowest level.

  “The temperature and humidity are maintained at optimal levels here,” said Bishop. “We’re both energy neutral and off the grid.”

  Faith rolled her eyes.

  “I want you to see the manufacturing facility first,” said Bishop. “We’re already working on your vaccine formula.”

  “You jumped the gun,” said Rob. “We haven’t even signed the papers yet.” He adjusted his face mask at his ears.

  “We won’t start the trials without your agreement,” said Bishop. “But we want to be ready to go as soon as possible after we do get your partners’ agreement.”

  “Any news on that?” said Faith.

  “It’ll happen,” said Rob.

  “Yeah, I knew with your support it would go through,” said Bishop.

  They exited the elevator into a semi-circular reception area, like the one in the building in K Street. Bishop, Faith, and then Rob, all had their irises scanned and then a door in the far wall slid open.

  “You don’t do clip-on badges here,” said Rob. “Every government building I’ve ever visited used to hand them out like sweets.”

  Bishop stared up at a white camera pod in the roof. “We’re all tracked from the moment we set foot in here. We don’t need germ-carrying, easily forged badges.”

  “I wish every lab would go along with that,” said Rob.

  “They will. We have a patent on the human resource asset tracking system.”

  Bishop led the way down the corridor. Steel doors were set into white walls on both sides. The corridor was eerily empty. Their steps echoed.

  “Access to this floor is tightly controlled,” said Bishop. He stopped at a door. It also had an iris scanner. He leaned toward it. “Only the chosen few get in here,” he said.

  The door clicked open. They went inside to a long room with a window taking up all of the far wall. Bishop went to the window and looked into the giant room beyond.

  Steel vats of various sizes, pipes, tubes, a steel manufacturing line, and testing tables were laid out in the room below. People in blue hazmat suits were walking around. They appeared to be checking things.

  “We’re ready to start manufacturing,” said Bishop. “For this program, we won’t wait for test results. We make it and use it all or throw it all away. It’s the only way we can get the volume of vaccine we’ll need to stop the virus.”

  21

  Washington DC, June 1st, 2020

  Wang Hu stepped out of the red Chinese Embassy Mercedes. It had been purchased to signal the excellent cooperation between the Federal Republic of Germany and the People’s Republic of China. The color certainly meant that it was easy to spot.

  The man he was meeting would be coming from the Senate Hart Building where he worked. Wang was dropped off on D Street NW. The walk through Lower Senate Park, with the Capitol Building on his right, would help him shake vehicles following him. He looked at his phone. Timing was everything with these missions. He had fifteen minutes to walk through the park and then back to reach the trash can at the corner of D Street at exactly noon.

  He sat on a park bench and pulled out a plastic container with rice and vegetables and a plastic fork from the brown paper bag he had been carrying. He ate quickly, then relaxed on the bench, and put everything back in the paper bag.

  The sun was beating down now. The park had a few joggers and other people heading to the Senate Hart Building, where there were always hearings or meetings going on, even in the middle of a pandemic. He’d been warned that there were far fewer people on the streets these days in Washington, which he meant he had to get this just right.

  He headed for the trash can, scrunching his paper bag. As he reached it, a man in a gray suit passed by.

  Wang dropped his paper bag in the trash can and picked up the postage-stamp-sized memory card that was sitting on the top of the trash can, as if he’d stumbled and was leaning out for support.

  Twenty minutes later he was back at the embassy and uploading the data on the card.

  It was encrypted, of course, but he had the digital key required to read the data. A few seconds later, data streamed onto his screen.

  The list of names, dates, and active duty stations was long, containing the entire list of three hundred and thirty-six thousand, nine hundred and sixty-eight United States Navy active duty personnel.

  He ordered the columns by command center and identified the information he was looking for: the number of personnel in each unit listed as exempt from duty because of a positive Coronavirus test.

  22
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  Maryland, June 1st, 2020

  “Can I assume the signed agreement will be with us today?” asked Bishop.

  “You like jumping the gun, don’t you?” replied Rob.

  They were sitting in a meeting room near the observation area Bishop had taken them to.

  “We have a situation, Dr. McNeil. We need to jump every gun.”

  “What situation?”

  “There’s a Coronavirus outbreak at a military location we need to stamp out. This is also an ideal location for part of the phase three test.”

  “Where is that?”

  “I can’t tell you. I’d have to confine you to this building for ninety days, maybe longer.”

  “Let me check my email.” Rob pulled out his smartphone. The TOTALVACS app had apparently also logged him into the laboratory Wi-Fi. The system was fast too. There was an email from Sean Ryan.

  The message said.

  Rob,

  Problem with the contract. They are looking for control of the manufacturing rights, specifically who chooses any manufacturing partners. We shouldn’t give that away. Do you agree?

  Also, we’ve received threats by email telling us to stop all vaccine research.

  Sean.

  Rob’s finger paused over the screen as he thought about his reply. Under normal circumstances, he’d insist on having a say in where his vaccine was manufactured. But these were not normal circumstances. He had other priorities now.

  Sean,

  I need the contract signed today. We have a situation here and need to get the phase three trial underway. My vote is still to proceed. TOTALVACS knows what they are doing. And please, stop all research work until I get back.

  Rob.

  He sent the reply and looked up at Bishop. “You’ll get the contract by tomorrow. You can press the start button on the manufacturing. But,” he shook his hand in the air to emphasize his point, “I want to see all the trial’s data and I will go public if the results are poor and the dangers to public health exceed the benefits.”

  Bishop shook his head. “You can’t do that, ever. You’ve signed a non-disclosure agreement.”