Malcolm Athens quick-walked through the West Wing of the White House. Clutched in his hand was a report he’d received five minutes earlier from the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. Athens had been a White House liaison to the CIA for the past four years. It was his principal responsibility to brief the president regarding matters of national security.
He walked past two Secret Service agents standing like pillars on either side of the entrance to the Situation Room, a five-thousand-square-foot chamber consisting principally of six flat-screen televisions and a large conference table. An eight-foot ornately decorated Christmas tree brightly lit with a ceiling-mounted floodlight stood in the near corner.
Casually dressed in a plaid shirt, President Kellar was seated at the table. The only other person in the room was Zachary Carlton, his chief of staff.
“I just received this report from the RCMP,” Athens began. “It seems our Canadian colleagues have been able to determine that Alik Vosky took a job with Bitrax Industries in Winnipeg a little over a year ago. They are a small pharmaceutical company.”
The president frowned. “With his immigration history, how in the world did he get a job like that? I thought drug companies were more cautious in their hiring practices.”
“I’m sure they are, unless somebody applies under a false name. Vosky’s no amateur. The documents he used in support of his application were all excellent forgeries. He even had three phony letters of reference.”
Kellar steepled his fingers. “In what capacity did this drug company hire him?”
“As a senior laboratory technician.”
“In what area?”
Athens fidgeted in his chair. “He was assigned to the research and development department. He participated in several areas. One of them was developing new antibiotics for the treatment of serious obstetrical infections.”
“Great,” the president muttered. “Does anybody have an idea how all of this might tie into Mr. Vosky’s disappearance?”
“There was an…an incident at the company. Vosky’s computer skills were exceptional. The IT department at Bitrax discovered he had acquired certain sensitive files that contained information that went light-years beyond his pay grade. Their first thought was he was involved in an industrial espionage scheme, but before they could sort things out, Vosky must have realized they had nailed him. He never showed up for work again. The company pressed charges but it wasn’t the type of case that was going to receive a lot of resources. As of today, Vosky’s whereabouts are still unknown and the case remains open.”
“Has anybody considered that perhaps it wasn’t his intent to sell the information to a competing pharmaceutical company?” Turning his palms up, he continued. “Maybe he had more personal plans for the information.”
“We agree with you, sir. The Canadian authorities have undertaken a major initiative to locate Vosky. I’ll be receiving daily briefings from them.”
“Perhaps you and I should have a similar arrangement,” Kellar suggested with a manufactured half smile.
“Of course,” Athens said. “I’m sure they’ll locate him soon, Mr. President. They’re putting their best agents on it.”
The president pushed back in his chair and stood up. With a stiffened posture, he said, “Optimistic predictions are not what I need at the moment. What I want is for somebody to locate this son of a bitch. If the American people should even get an inkling that GNS might be an act of bioterrorism, it’s going to touch off a national panic the likes of which this country’s never seen before.”