THE CHESS CLUB, SAITON – 23 NOVEMBER
The light from the antique chandelier glinted off the silvery hair of Lumo Kinotoa, the chairman of both Yamoura Pharmaceuticals and the Chess Club. Tsan Yohoto looked across the table at his oldest friend. Yes, Lumo was starting to look older than his seventy-six years. There was no doubt that the pressure and strain involved in implementing this great plan was taking its toll. The hand of fate rested upon their shoulders. Within weeks they would have achieved a full and fitting revenge on the Americans for the deaths of their families and the humiliation of their country.
Lumo Kinotoa savoured the last mouthful of a cucumber sandwich and washed it down with a sip of tea. He was tired but he summoned up his strength again. He preferred to keep their decisions unanimous, but a rare argument was developing.
‘So, back to this Detective Wyse, Tsan,’ he said. ‘You are convinced that he poses a real threat?’
‘Yes, Lumo. Anna, his girlfriend, told me he had come across some boxes of SuperVerve. Must be some of the ones that were dumped. Apparently, he thinks he’s doing her a favour by poking around to see if there’s some illicit trade going on. He had a box analysed and told her that some of the dosages were different than stated on the packet. He’s getting too close for comfort. He’s still low risk, but at this stage we can’t afford any slip-ups.’
‘But, Tsan,’ said Kinotoa. ‘I think it is an unnecessary risk. What if one of al-Qaeda’s sleepers gets caught? It could draw attention to our whole plan.’ He raised his eyebrows to Kazuhiro Saito and Dr Naga, inviting their opinions.
Saito sighed. ‘I have to take Tsan’s advice. He’s the one who has met Wyse and is much closer to all of this.’
‘I’m inclined to agree,’ said Dr Naga. ‘Obviously, there are risks associated with all options, but our plan is Tsan’s brainchild, and I trust his judgement.’
Tsan Yohoto rammed home his advantage. ‘For once, Lumo, I must disagree with you completely. My instinct tells me that Detective Wyse is becoming too much of a danger. Please tell our friends in Afghanistan to have him eliminated, as soon as possible.’ Pity to upset Anna. But I can’t risk jeopardising the plan over a detail like her feelings.
Kinotoa nodded. ‘As you wish, Tsan. I will send the request after our meeting. Now, gentlemen, back to the main business. Tsan, final numbers?’
‘My friends,’ said Tsan Yohoto with a smile. ‘We now have over three million New Yorkers saturated in cephalosporin. The city has been primed for large-scale antibiotic-resistant infection. We have reached the tipping point. It is now a question of how many of them we can infect with our e-coli bacteria before BurgerFantastic is identified as the source and closed down. You can be sure that they’ll waste a lot of time testing meat all over New York before anyone thinks of checking the sauce. Once the hospital wards are packed, I’m sure our curtain swishing strategy for spreading the infection will increase the death toll even more.
‘After that, the numbers that die is up to God.’
‘And Allah,’ said Lumo Kinotoa with a grin.
‘And the curtain swishers,’ added Dr Naga.
*
After evening prayers at the Al Jahada Mosque on Side Street, the Bronx, a few members of the congregation were sipping herbal tea and chatting quietly with the spiritual leader of the mosque. They knew he was al-Qaeda, and they had all been influenced by the teachings of al-Qaeda in their formative teenage years. It was from this group that Ibrahim Fallah had carefully selected his two recruits. They recognised him approaching as the group began to break up.
‘My friends.’ He smiled, and laid a gentle hand on the shoulders of the two young Muslims. ‘It is time to start your work. Inshallah.’
Ibrahim Fallah had researched their backgrounds carefully, and had subtly assisted in their ongoing radicalisation. Their families were al-Qaeda supporters and they could be trusted to cooperate and to maintain absolute discretion. This radicalisation process was carried out secretively, as it would be abhorrent to the vast majority of those attending the mosque. He drove them in his brown Nissan to the back of the library. In silence, the two recruits took in the neatness of the garage there, the stacks of chairs, shelving units, a workbench, tools and a musty smell of oil. There was now a second white van parked inside.
‘My friends,’ continued Fallah in his quiet voice, ‘the elders have decided that your work must begin.’
The two recruits listened, wide-eyed.
‘Please tell us how to proceed, Ibrahim?’ asked one.
Fallah pointed at the second white van. ‘This is for you. I have added some lettering on the sides.’ The six-inch high, navy blue words Hospital Maintenance Services clearly indicated the van’s new status. ‘You will pose as hospital maintenance staff. You will pretend that you are working for a company which supplies and maintains curtains – the type you see around beds in hospitals.’
They nodded.
‘You do not need to understand your work. The most important thing is that you open and close as many curtains in the hospital wards as possible – starting with the Emergency Rooms and then working through as many wards as you can.’
‘But why?’
‘As I said, do not concern yourself with why. Even I do not have that answer. We must trust the wisdom of our leaders. Inside the van are some hospital bed curtains, screens on wheels and a toolbox. You simply walk into the wards, pushing the screen on wheels and then begin to adjust nuts on the curtain rails around the beds. Always pretend to test your work by swishing the curtains around each bed a couple of times. Don’t linger. There’s lots of wards to get through.’
Compliant, the two recruits nodded.
‘In the van, you will find two white coats. Inside each coat is a fake ID for an employee of a hospital maintenance company – in case a security guard challenges you.’
‘Where do we keep the van?’
‘You should leave it here when you are not using it. On the driver’s seat is a set of keys, a key for the garage door and a remote control. The van is perfectly legitimate and you are insured to drive. Also, on the passenger seat is a map of the five boroughs, on which is marked the hospitals you are to concentrate on. Take the next few days to familiarise yourselves with the locations, the best places to park and the best routes to get from one to the other.’
‘How often do we visit each hospital?’ asked one.
‘Try to get around each hospital as often as you can. Vary the times that you call. If you go to one hospital during the day, go after 8 p.m. the next time. The nurses and security guards generally work eight-to-eight shifts. It will minimise any risk of suspicion.’
‘Yes, Ibrahim, we understand.’
‘In approximately ten days, I will contact you with instructions to start. I will see you every few days at the mosque and you can advise me of any problems. And, of course, you must never speak to anyone about me, or about your work,’ he concluded.
Both of them nodded earnestly. ‘Of course, Ibrahim.’
Ibrahim Fallah embraced his new recruits and then drove them back to the mosque. As they said a quiet goodbye, one of the conspirators puffed out his cheeks.
‘Phew. This gets real in ten days.’
‘Best look at those maps then,’ was the reply.
*
‘Peter, it’s lookin’ real good for Tokyo 2020,’ said Bob Sanders.
‘Hey, that’s great Bob,’ said Peter Phillips, as he knocked back his fresh orange juice as they sat at the counter at the Delish Juice Bar on Broome Street, near his clinic.
‘Yep, we’re drawing up the likely list for the conference over the next couple of months. So, we’re givin’ it, like, one last push.’
‘Sure, sure,’ said the doctor, getting the message.
‘And the SuperVerve launch has gone so well – word is they’re gonna shoot the lights out with this trip.’
‘Awesome.’
‘So, see what you can do, buddy, over the next couple of weeks – I’d love to see you at those Olympic Games.’
Yeah, thought the doctor grimly. Dr Peter Phillips, USA. Gold medal for prescribing SuperVerve.