Russell Brooks - Pandora's Succession

Echelon was the National Security Agency’s computer program that automatically intercepted keywords in regular conversation, either on a regular phone or through cyberspace, used to track potential terrorist threats. The system had been updated to include references to Pandora.

“I flew up there with a team and fortunately arrived on time to contain the outbreak. I thought that was the last we’d see of Pandora, until now,” said Marx.

Fox ran a finger over his left eyebrow. “Pandora wasn’t created, after all.”

“Most definitely not. The ice man’s discovery suggests that Pandora is a microbe that existed in prehistoric times. It managed to survive over time by lying dormant in the ice man. My guess is that at the time that he and members of his community were infected, he either fell through a frozen lake or was buried under an avalanche while the rest were wiped out.”

They reached the doorway to the dome and exited where Walsh was.

Fox walked up to Walsh. “You all right? You’ve lost some color in your face.”

“I’ll live, and I tan easily,” Walsh replied. “What I still can’t figure out is how Ares managed to get their hands on Pandora.”

“Ares has spies everywhere, unless they discovered it on their own.” But Fox felt that the latter explanation was the least likely.

“No matter how they discovered it, whoever’s responsible for this disaster went far enough to kill everyone to cover their tracks,” said Walsh.

Dr. Marx turned when she heard a cleanup-crew member shout out to her. “Dr. Marx, we found another victim.”

“I’ll be right there,” she replied. She turned to Fox and Walsh. “I have to go. I’ll send you my results when I’m done.”

“Sure thing, Doc,” replied Walsh.

Fox nodded to her. He was about to walk away when Marx called back to him. “Oh, Fox, watch your back. You never know what or who may turn up.”

“I’ll make sure of that.” Fox checked the ground to make sure he didn’t step in anything gelatinous as both he and Walsh walked back to their transport helicopter that was outside the compound.

With no survivors or any retrievable data so far, the trail was about to run cold. And those responsible wanted it that way. Fox knew he would go sleepless for several nights knowing that a surprise attack was imminent.

West Tokyo

Hideaki Hashimoto usually read the morning news from his laptop computer at 6:00 AM while he sipped on a cup of hot tea. He preferred sitting outside at the gazebo in the garden when it was sunny and warm. But this morning was different. It was 5:35 AM, and he was inside his office tearing through webpage after webpage on his laptop as his tea sat untouched on his desk. Three hours ago, a telephone call woke him up, alerting him of the incident in Uganda.

He must have checked the same news pages several times over, convinced he had missed something. CNN. com, BBC. co. uk-they had nothing. Maybe news on the Pandora outbreak in southern Uganda would only break later that morning, unless the officials wanted to keep the incident under tight wrap to avoid a worldwide panic.

There was a knock at the door.

“Enter,” Hashimoto said in Japanese. His personal secretary walked in holding an envelope and an agenda. She then closed the door behind her. “Come in, Ms. Miyake.” His eyes never left the monitor.

Ms. Miyake removed her heels at the door as she crossed the Kars rug on her way to her boss’s desk and handed him a manila envelope. “Good morning, sir.”

Hashimoto placed the envelope on the edge of his desk. “Any news worth telling me about?”

“Yes, sir. The approval of Hexagon’s recent purchase of Warner-Parke Pharmaceuticals in the US has yielded great results. Shares have shot up from $820 US to $1027 US per share.”

“Anything else?”

“There’s another testing of Project Clarity this morning.”

“At nine o’clock?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Make sure my driver knows I want to be there at least half an hour early. I personally want to meet the two test subjects.”

“I’ll see that he gets the message,” said Ms Miyake as she scribbled notes into her agenda. “There’s also your scheduled teleconference with a Nick Archer from Financial Planet Magazine at-”

“Cancel that meeting. I’ll conveniently be busy during that hour.”

“I’ll email him the message right away, sir.” More notes were scribbled into the agenda.

The desk phone rang and Hashimoto snatched it. “Moshi moshi?”

“I’ve arrived a few moments ago with the package. I couldn’t contact you sooner for security reasons,” said a Russian-accented voice in English. Hashimoto covered the ear piece and gave a head signal to his secretary to leave. She quickly obliged, understanding his need for privacy.

“That’s understandable,” Hashimoto replied in the same language, recognizing Valerik’s voice.

“Not too much trouble, I expect.”

“Of course not. I know these people. It was a piece of cake, as the Americans say. Nothing complicated. I only wish the two men you assigned to accompany me would relax a bit. A shot of Vodka to celebrate wouldn’t hurt.”

“My men were not trained to drink, but to obey. The Undertaker would be very disappointed to hear you talk like that, after everything she’s done for us. I trust they’ve done everything you’ve asked?”

“Yes, and all too well. They were both a bit more passionate than I was. Anyhow, I’ll see you later this morning after I get sleep. It was a long flight.”

“Excellent work. Your brothers and sisters have much to be grateful for. By the way, I was notified not too long ago of a certain incident. Our friends are searching for two men.” Men that don’t exist, of course. Hashimoto was careful to avoid using words such as Americans, manhunt or Uganda in the same sentence. “Do you have any concerns?”

“My former comrades will also be kept so busy running from our friends that they won’t have time to come look for me.”

“Don’t be too sure of that.”

“I know.”

Hashimoto hung up the phone, more assuaged than when he had answered it. Pandora was finally in his possession, the online news could wait. He knew his tea would be cold by now. That was nothing to stress over, he would send for another cup later.

Hashimoto was a handsome man, standing five-foot-seven inches and he was relatively fit for sixty-four. He had a doctorate certificate in Pharmaceutical Sciences from the University of Tokyo. That and his numerous awards took up an entire wall. The other side was covered with awards and framed newspaper articles related to Hexagon Pharmaceuticals, of which he had been the CEO for the past twenty-three years. He was one of the youngest CEOs to have ever been given that title in the history of the company dating back to 1860.

Hashimoto’s association with Valerik went back as far as the early 1980’s, when the Soviets had recruited him based on his unique knowledge of brainwashing techniques. Hashimoto’s human experiments during the Soviet-Afghan war would’ve had him arrested for war crimes several years ago had the secret gotten out. In addition to the handsome salary the Soviets gave him, they facilitated his climb up the corporate ladder to become CEO of Hexagon Pharmaceuticals.

This was all threatened the day Dr. Tabitha Marx-otherwise known as the Undertaker-paid him a visit. She told him that she knew everything about him and Valerik after she rummaged through her late mother’s belongings. Blackmailing him was easy. Her making him trick Valerik into visiting his office only to have the Clarity drug used on him in order to brainwash him into becoming a double agent for Dr. Marx was pure genius.