Code of the Eagle - For The Motherland Book 1

Chapter 2

The first question that came to his mind was, “How?” He, like all Zimbabwean spies graded Level 6 and above, knew of the work done at Elephant Labs. He also knew the place was as secure as the Reserve Bank.

As usual Lynnette anticipated his question.

“It was an inside job. One of the scientists.”

“A doctor? That's a new one. I assume he wants to open a private practice?”

“Dammit, agent! This is no joke.”

For a moment, Garikai thought she was going to give him the dressing down of his life - another one similar to the one he had received a year ago when his brother's betrayal had cost the agency its entire network in Pyongyang.

Lynnette sighed - a rare occurrence that signified the seriousness of the matter. “This requires your skills. You're uniquely positioned and qualified to tackle this…”

“Whoa, whoa, stop right there, comrade. Just what the hell are you talking about? The N.O. virus was stolen from Zimbabwe, right? And unless there's been a drastic change at NISA, there are many active agents back home who can ‘tackle’ this case. So what exactly do you need me for?”

Lynnette answered with a question. "How many times have I ever personally ran a op?"

Garikai hesitated. Lynnette's position as Field Operations Director involved sanctioning operations, bridging the gap between the two divisions of Intelligence and Operations. She did not need to be involved in the field; she had field supervisors under her command, the so-called handlers whose jobs were to monitor and provide backup to the operatives. That she was here now spoke volumes.

Lynnette reached into her pocket and brought out a thumbdrive. “Doctor Mare - he's the one that stole the virus - told us he gave it to a courier, who transported it here. This drive contains everything he has given us so far. He has been persuaded to be more forthcoming.”

Garikai winced at her slightly amused tone. She was one of the few people he knew who actively enjoyed torturing suspects. He could vividly imagine the offending doctor trussed up tightly on a table in a brightly lit room in a building that didn't exist on any map. Depending on their level of resistance, the suspect would be subjected to various methods of interrogation techniques.

Banishing the image from his head, he took the drive from her extended arm. “Okay, comrade, lay it on me.”

A ghost of a triumphant smile flitted across her face so quickly he must have imagined it. “As you may know, the relationship between Harare and Gaborone is somewhat frosty. So we can't operate here, officially. That's where you come in. You will have to work alone, no official backup or extraction if you get yourself caught. Your mission is to find the Ngozi Omega virus and return it home safely.”

“What if it has already been released?”

“The stolen canister contains 500 millilitres of aerosolized N.O. If all of it is unleashed in this city, you won't know what hit you. You were last vaccinated over a year ago so you are no longer immune to it.”

That was true, he knew that. Every six months all NISA agents were inoculated against all known bio-weapons. He hadn't received the injection in over twelve months.

“A package will be delivered to your apartment with a couple of doses.” Lynnette read his mind, again. “Any questions?”

“No, but you forgot to ask if I'll accept the mission.”

Lynnette scoffed. “You already did. Good luck, agent. You are gonna need it.”

Garikai turned to go.

“Oh, one last thing, agent.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“I hope you used a condom with Sally last night.”

“Damn you.” Garikai swore without heat. He knew it was useless to ask how she knew about that. Lynnette had her ways, just as he was sure she would find a way to keep her eye on him during this mission.

Thumbdrive in pocket and purpose in heart, Garikai resumed his jogging, the gears and cogs in his head already meshing at full capacity. First he needed to open the thumbdrive, to acquaint himself with the players in this deadly game of death. What were their motives? Greed? Revenge? Or fanaticism?

He finished his lap and turned back, a plan already forming.

On the outskirts of Gaborone

The makeshift lab in a cheap motel room was clean. The small wooden table was laden with an assortment of beakers, test tubes, a yellow sealing tape, a small red candle-like object and a single syringe arranged orderly beside an unmarked silver canister. A sealed, airtight plastic containment chamber had been securely taped to the floor around the table.

The minister and his aide stood outside the chamber with five other people, watching as a short and pudgy woman in a Hazmat suit and rubber gloves entered the chamber before zipping it closed.

Holding the silver canister in her left hand, she unscrewed the cap.

Outside, the minister looked around at his companions nervously, before clamping a hand over his mouth and nose.

The man beside him chuckled. “Relax, honorable, the chamber is airtight. Besides, closing your mouth and nose won't work. You'll need to breathe, eventually.”

In the chamber, the woman put the cap on the table. Another cap, smaller and red in colour, covered the lid and she removed it too. A sealing tape covered the mouth of the container.

She picked up the needled syringe and plunged it into the container through the tape, before pulling out the plunger, stopping when the dark purple liquid reached the 1 cc mark.

Carefully setting down the canister on the table, she pulled out the syringe and swiftly capped it. She took the sealing tape and placed it over the canister's top, covering the miniscule hole. Then she screwed on the red cap before the larger silver one.

The loaded syringe was placed into two airtight plastic bags then into an innocuous looking chocolate box.

The woman then took the cigarette lighter and lit the red candle-like object, which emitted a thick cloud of red smoke. The smoke quickly engulfed the inside of the whole chamber, before slowly diminishing and clearing.

The woman removed her gloves, then her headgear, revealing a soft plump face, framed by thick dreadlocks which falsely emphasised the kindness in her dark and deep eyes. Beautiful windows to an ugly soul.

The woman unzipped the chamber and stepped out to the assembled group.

The minister gulped before emboldening himself to speak. “You left it open, Doctor Bennett. Is it safe?”

“The magnesium peroxide  smoke neutralises the virus.” She held up the chocolate box. “Depending on the wind, the kill-zone will be about a hundred metre radius.”

The man beside the minister spoke with a glee of amused enthusiasm. “Everything is ready, Honourable Minister. The live demo will happen within two hours. I assure you, you'll be impressed. It will be beautiful.”

The minister shook his head, wondering for the umpteenth time how his boss felt about these doctors who enjoyed death and suffering. He offered a small prayer for the dozens soon to die.