African dialects which kept him employed.
When the Rover arrived the next morning, Victor was ready. He carried an insulated bag containing his food and water, and a thermos. No one in the truck noticed or cared about this. The trip would take about five hours along mostly improved dirt roads if they weren’t stopped along the way. Travel in the region was always risky. Military and police checkpoints often demanded bribes to pass further. Sometimes bandits stopped vehicles in remote areas and could usually be satisfied with money. The WHO people were prepared for these “inconveniences,” but it was comforting to have a native speaker with them.
Once in Kambia, the health care people were busy with the native clinicians, informing them about Dr. Bridger and precautions that should be taken if any patients came with Ebola-like symptoms. There were no cases yet when they arrived. With all of the WHO people engaged, Victor left to have his lunch.
Mercenary
The phone number came from an advertisement in Soldier of Fortune magazine. He’d made several calls to find the right man.
The man answering spoke emphatically in a deep husky voice. “Okay, first rule, no names. You got that?”
“Yeah … ah, yes, I understand.” The caller was hesitant -- uncertain.
“Good. I read your text and understand you want someone ‘neutralized,’ right?”
“Sure. I guess that’s right. I … a…”
“Look pal, this is your deal. It’s really simple, yes or no.”
The caller began stuttering uncontrollably. He hadn’t stuttered since grade school. This is embarrassing!
After failing to answer, the other man said, “Look, calm down. I know this ain’t easy. It never is, but I’m a pro who can solve your problem. You wouldn’t call me if you hadn’t done some searching to find me.” He’d already verified the caller was legitimate by a series of calls using different locations.
The caller had composed himself. “I want the person gone for good.” They’d agreed earlier on a call to a different number about who the target was to be.
“Alright, like I said, this ain’t a hard one. Ten grand -- cash. Five up front and five after … and, fellow, just so’s you understand, I know where you live if you try to stiff me.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that, I can afford to pay.” Why is it that low-life people always want to make threats?
“Okay, make the money drop, and I’ll be good to go.”
“Wait! How and when?”
“When do you want?”
“Soon … as soon as you can.”
“Okay, then within two weeks, but don’t hold me to that. I gotta reconnoiter first; get the lay of things, check routines. It sounds easy, but I don’t make mistakes. That could go bad for you and me.”
“So, how would you do it?” It seemed like a logical question. He didn’t want to risk failure.
“Simple – a couple high-power bullets, center mass. I don’t believe in any of this television fancy shit: car explosions, fake electrical accidents. None o’ that kinda stuff. Looks dramatic, but doesn’t always work and too complicated. This’ll be a simple shoot-to-kill.”
“Yes, but guns can be traced later.” He was wondering if this guy was floating on an even keel.
“Not the way I do it. I gotta collection from my days in the agency; guns, AKs mostly, taken after action in South America and the sand countries. I got dozens, all undocumented. Anyway, afterward, I gotta forge in my basement and destroy the barrels and receivers, ain’t no way to trace me.”
“Okay, I’ll put the money at your spot tomorrow morning, around sunup.”
The voice cautioned, “One more thing, friend. I’ll be watching and don’t want you looking back, curious like. And don’t forget: if I get stung cuzza you, I got friends. You dig?”
“Ah, yes, I dig … I mean I understand.” The call ended, and the caller sat alone in the dark, shaking. He needed a drink.
Burning Both Ends
Jules was headed for Baltimore International Airport. His flight left in less than an hour, and he didn’t want to upset the Saudi business men that had contracted at the Hawk Offices for the meeting and legal support. He’d done a couple merger presentations in the past, but this one was intriguing and gone further, fastest.
The Royal Family, who controlled most of the wealth in the world’s largest oil-producing country, was making huge investments in the future. Oil wouldn’t be the engine behind their economy forever. Allah had blessed them with the resource to become the richest country in the Middle East, but it was now up to the monarchy to assure their prosperity for the future. They also needed to insure against the “Arab Spring” happening in their country. The historically tribal citizenry all needed to feel the blanket of their benevolence. The only way to do that was to build a sustaining economic growth model.
The country had no other organic sources of wealth besides oil; the government needed to build a prosperous economy from scratch. One of their pillars of the economic plan was to focus on biotechnology. It was a daunting task for a Muslim country with a young generation that wasn’t particularly motivated or interested in science. The government provided everything for a good life without much exertion. Why work hard when they didn’t need to? The economic engineering had to be done through building infrastructure, education, and attracting people and acquiring technology. It was something that would require enormous investment and wasn’t easy in the strict orthodox Wahhabi Sunni culture that didn’t attract outsiders. In the twenty-first century, there were five major university complexes under construction in Riyadh along with major interstate projects and several light commuter rail systems, all at one time. Hundreds of billions were being spent. Jules knew this meeting could be the opportunity of a lifetime.
There was no way to place an accurate value on GHI. There was a huge subjective element. It was impossible to value an Institute that could predict the future and possibly end of the curse of Ebola virus. With the proven success of their processes, they could find cures to other diseases once the world was rid of this scourge. He smiled and shivered just thinking about the success ahead for him. Hell, this might eclipse even Facebook and Microsoft. He imagined himself at the top of Forbes annual list of billionaires. He had to make his flight on time.
The first-class security line went fast, and he got to his seat as the last passenger to board the plane. There had been so much to do at work that morning, so many arrangements to be made, that he had cut his schedule close. There was no higher priority to him than the meeting that evening in New York. Thank goodness, Marie had arranged for a limo to be waiting at LaGuardia. The flight was less than fifty minutes, but he was able to close his eyes and get some much-needed rest.
He was in the car, headed for Manhattan in less than ten minutes after touchdown in New York, and he was at the Hawk headquarters building in less than half an hour, exactly on time. An assistant was waiting for him as he entered the massive lobby. Holding out her hand, she said, “Hello, Dr. Redinger. Please follow me.” The banks of elevators were impressive, but she took him to a private alcove marked Executive Offices Only.
The ride up was quick with no intermediate stops. It wasn’t clear what floor they were on, but the floor-to-ceiling glass gave a beautiful view of the entire city and the Hudson River. He wasn’t intimidated as intended; he’d own this building someday if he wanted it. She led him to a large conference room, ten times larger than GHI’s. The walls were covered in some kind of dark satin, and all the lighting was indirect. Several people were standing around a table more than thirty feet long as he entered. He smiled at them.
There were six people seated at the table and a larger support staff in the rows along the walls. His host was a senior partner, supported by an executive staff consisting of investment bankers and lawyers. They all looked alike to him in their hand-tailored designer business suits. Across the table from him, the three Saudi
businessmen greeted him with soft handshakes, per their custom. They were dressed similarly to the Hawk people.
Jules smiled while greeting people and exchanging meaningless courtesies, enjoying the spotlight. Once settled, the Hawk partner opened the meeting. “I want to welcome Dr. Jules Redinger from Global Hemorrhagic Institute.” Jules noticed a stenographer taking copious notes. He was also sure that the entire meeting was being recorded. The fellow continued. “With us today are representatives from the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia.” He introduced each of them then went on. “Hawk has been retained by the Saudi Government to evaluate the potential for acquiring the technology and intellectual property, as well as, the assets of GHI. It’s not a mystery why they would be interested in GHI, given all of the publicity surrounding the latest outbreaks of the deadly Ebola virus, and GHI’s role in first predicting the event, and secondly, preparing the antidotes in time to prevent a major calamity.” He nodded at Jules, “Well done, Dr. Redinger.” Jules got the impression the speech was given mostly for the record of the meeting. The platitudes and