Army War College
Carlisle, Pennsylvania
Dr. Benjamin Milton was a career-hardened military physician. Holding the rank of colonel, he had served as the director of the Army’s Strategic Studies Institute Center. His specific area of interest was the study of biological weapons. Having chaired numerous national and international committees, Colonel Milton had published dozens of scientific papers and had lectured all over the world. Of all the bioterrorism experts in the country, it was Milton that President Stephen Kellar wanted at this evening’s meeting.
Renatta Brickell was met at the entrance to the college by two security personnel who escorted her to a small private dining room on the second floor. Glancing over at the table, she was surprised to see it had only been set for three people. When she heard voices, she shifted her gaze to the far side of the room to a rawboned man with a grainy complexion wearing a tweed sports coat. She pushed a smile to her face, filled her lungs with a cautious breath and walked toward the man who had appointed her to the position of United States surgeon general.
“Good evening, Mr. President,” she said, extending her hand.
“Happy holidays. It’s nice to see you,” he answered taking her hand in both of his with the same winning grin that had paved his way to the White House. At forty-seven and only halfway through his first term, the former governor of Rhode Island had moved from a charismatic upstart with a marginal amount of political experience to a seasoned pro. “I don’t believe you’ve had the pleasure of meeting Dr. Milton.”
She turned toward the unimposing man with a snub nose and shook his hand.
“It’s a great pleasure to meet you. I’m quite familiar with your outstanding contributions to the field.”
“Let’s sit down,” the president suggested, gesturing toward the table. “I considered a larger meeting, but then I thought it might be better if just the three of us chatted.” A tall server wearing a white vest entered and placed a garden salad in front of each of them. As soon as he exited, the president continued, “I’ve spent most of the afternoon being briefed on certain aspects of GNS. I’ve spoken to several key members of the scientific community and…well, my sense is that these young women are not the victims of bioterrorism.” He turned to Milton. “Do you agree?”
Milton didn’t answer at once. Instead he placed his salad fork down and patted the corners of his narrow mouth with his napkin. Brickell was familiar with his reputation as an articulate man, measured in his responses and one who never presented information he couldn’t back up with the facts.
With little inflexion in his voice, he answered, “GNS has an unusual and distinct set of symptoms. Considering what we know about the development of biological weapons, I’d say that the likelihood this disease is a weaponized virus or bacteria is small.”
“How small?” Kellar asked in a cautious tone.
“To manufacture a biological weapon of such sophistication is probably beyond the capability of any terrorist group we are currently familiar with.”
Kellar smiled but appeared circumspect. “You said probably, Colonel.”
“Unfortunately, sir, I can’t give you an unqualified guarantee.”
The president laced his fingers behind his neck and pushed back in his chair. His salad remained untouched.
“I hope you’re simply speaking with an abundance of caution, because as president, I have to know if our country could possibly be under a biological attack. You sound to me like a man with something on his mind. So, irrespective of how remote your concern is, I’d like to hear about it in detail.”
“Of course, sir. As soon as the first cases of GNS were reported, we began looking into the possibility we were facing an act of bioterrorism. In conducting that review, we came across several political groups and individuals of interest. We were able to dismiss most of them fairly quickly, but there was one who stood out. His name’s Alik Vosky. He was a Russian scientist.”
“The Russian biological weapons research program was dismantled in the 1970s. How does Vosky tie into GNS?”
“As you know, the Russian research program into biological weapons was by far the most extensive and sophisticated of its time. Because of the political upheaval surrounding its termination, we’ve never had more than a hazy understanding of just how far their research had taken them, and if any of their technology might have fallen into the wrong hands.” Milton stopped for a few seconds. Before continuing he took a couple of breaths and fiddled with one of his gold cufflinks. “Several years ago, information reached us via the Canadian authorities that prior to its closing, a research facility in the Ukraine had been working on selective acts of biological warfare.”
“What do you mean by selective acts?” the president asked.
“It’s a term that describes biological weapons that target a specific segment of the population.”
“Such as pregnant women.”
“I’m afraid so, sir.”
“Is there reliable information that such a weapon was ever developed?”
“None that’s definitive.”
“What else to you know about Vosky?”
“It appears he was a brilliant scientist. Before he reached the age of twenty-five, he had already earned both an M.D. and Ph.D. from Kiev University. He then served three years in the military before being recruited into the biological weapons program. After the program was shut down, he spent almost a year in North Korea before moving to the Middle East. We don’t have a lot of information about the time he spent there, but we do know that he became rather wealthy, and he adopted some radical political views. The intelligence we have is a little sketchy, but it seems probable that he didn’t acquire this sudden wealth by legitimate means. Eventually, he left the Middle East and made his way to Canada.”
“Did the Canadian authorities have any idea who he was?”
“Not at first, but when his prior employment history came to the attention of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, they invited him in for a chat. A copy of the transcript of that interview was forwarded to our office this morning. In a nutshell, Vosky confirmed there was a pilot program investigating a biological weapon which would control populations. He told the Canadians that the project had a number of start-up delays, but after two years, they had made progress. It was the interviewer’s impression that Vosky was probably more knowledgeable than he was letting on.”
With a pained stare, Kellar asked, “Just how high up on the food chain was Dr. Vosky?”
“We don’t think he served in a supervisory role. He was probably an upper-level scientist on the project.”
“What about his mental state?”
“We’ve asked ourselves the same question. Unfortunately, the interviewer didn’t cover that area very well. So, the best we can say is that Vosky was mentally impaired. Where he might fall on the spectrum from mild depression to frank schizophrenia is impossible to say.”
“What about the research itself? Did Vosky reveal any of the specifics?” the president asked.
“He disclosed that the program focused on several areas,” Milton answered as he set his fork down. “One of the main areas was targeting pregnant women. Their theory was that only a relatively small percentage of the population needed to be affected because such an outbreak would cause a major societal disruption.”
Kellar slid his glasses down and looked over the rims. “I suggest we contact the Mounted Police and ask them to get Comrade Vosky back in for another chat.”
“That may be a little difficult. They’ve already made some preliminary inquiries. It seems Mr. Vosky went missing about six months ago.”
“How hard has anybody looked for him?” the president asked.
“Not very, but until today there wasn’t really a reason to.”
“I certainly hope all that’s about to change.”
“The director of the RCMP asked me to assure you personally that locating Vosky is now on their short list of highest priorities.”
“I’d like to see a copy of the original transcript, Colonel.”
“It will be on your desk by nine a.m., sir.”
The server cleared the salad plates and began serving the main course. Renatta didn’t even have to look. Having had many dinners with the president, she was quite familiar with the aroma of pine nut pesto, his favorite sauce.
“I’m not a scientist, Colonel, but wouldn’t thirty years give somebody or some group ample time to bring almost any biological weapon to fruition?”
“It seems like a long time but when you consider the necessary brain power and resources…well, I still think it’s unlikely.”
The president smiled knowingly. “One of the first things I learned after winning the election was to be mindful of the word unlikely. My predecessor, a man of uncommon wisdom, told me the road to presidential hell is bricked with similar words. A better way to look at all things is that they’re all fifty-fifty. Either they’ll happen or they won’t. As a result of our meeting tonight, I’m far from convinced GNS is a mere act of God.”
“Yes, sir.”
The president reached for his fork. “As soon as you’re notified Vosky has been found, I’d like to know about it.”
For the next hour, both the president and Dr. Brickell asked Milton a number of tough questions regarding the possibility that GNS was an act of bioterrorism. He was informative, but measured in his responses. After coffee and dessert, Kellar thanked Brickell and Milton and ended the meeting.
“May I offer you a ride back to Washington?” he asked her. Brickell had made the trip to the War College by car with two of her aides. She would have preferred to ride back with them, but for reasons far too numerous to count, turning down the president of the United States’ offer to accompany him back to Washington was definitely not an option.