The Secret

Mark wasn’t at all certain what this implied but took it to mean keep your mouth shut unless given the okay by the CIA. He still wasn’t sure why he was there: he was a specialist in DNA manipulation not the war on terror. He spent his days cutting and pasting pieces of DNA molecules rather like journalists with words and phrases on their laptops. When seconded to Detrick he’d been asked to continue work on a project started by one of their scientists who had been called away on assignment to London. He’d been asked to design an activator and a deactivator for what had been termed an ‘interesting molecule’. What it was exactly the powers-that-be had decided he didn’t need to know, and he knew better than to ask.

Mark glanced at his watch: it was seven p.m. A ten-hour time differential meant that it would be nine in the morning in Maryland and the girls would be up and about. He called home using the hotel instruction card and was successful at the fourth attempt. He deduced immediately through hearing excitedly whispered questions that Laura had let Jade answer the phone.

‘Daddy, Daddy, it’s my birthday. I’ve got lots of presents and I’m going to have a party and all my friends are coming...’

Mark let the words wash over him, closing his eyes and picturing the scene at home until Jade asked if he wanted to speak to Mummy.

‘Yes please, Jade. Daddy loves you very much, honey.’

‘Come home soon, Daddy.’

Laura came on the line and asked him about his journey, then told him all about the plans for the day. ‘Wish I was there,’ he said, feeling quite emotional. Little girls were good at doing that to their fathers.

‘I hope the government doesn’t make a habit of this,’ Laura joked.

‘They won’t,’ replied Mark. ‘I’m pretty sure this is a one-off. No one has said anything about doing any lab work here so I’m figuring that I’m just meant to be some kind of consultant to bring some other guys up to speed. After that, I should be homeward bound.’

‘No need to pin a yellow ribbon on the apple tree in the garden then?’

‘None at all, honey.’

Mark felt much better for having spoken to Laura and Jade. He was now going to shower, change, have dinner over at the embassy and be given a personal briefing. After that, it had been suggested he have an early night. He would be picked up at six a.m. the following morning for ‘quite a long drive’.

Mark was briefed by a CIA man named Brady. Brady had been present at dinner where the conversation had largely been embassy staff chatter about the conditions in Islamabad. Mark had been struck by how ordinary it had all sounded — they could have been working for an insurance company — but now he and Brady were alone in an upstairs room.

‘I take it you’ve realised the molecule you’ve been working on is a virus?’ Brady asked.

‘Frankly, I’d expect to be fired if I hadn’t,’ joked Mark.

Brady nodded. ‘You’re here because your work on it has been going pretty well, by all accounts.’

‘I think I’ve come up with what was requested of me, although there will have to be tests, of course.’

‘Of course, and that’s also why you’re here. Your predecessor, now working in London, and his English associates have been having problems in designing what you’ve succeeded in doing. This will be a chance for you guys to get together and exchange information. I take it you have the details with you?’

Mark nodded, thinking it was a stupid question but limiting his reply to, ‘I was told to bring them.’

‘Encrypted?’

‘Of course.’

‘Good. Our friends in Pakistani intelligence know all about the virus and the initial field tests — they were instrumental in setting them up — but your side of things must remain confidential. Understood?’

Mark nodded uncertainly. ‘The field tests?’ he asked.

‘We’ve been trying out the virus.’

‘On people?’ Mark asked, betraying disbelief.

‘Yeah. It’s OK; nobody died.’

‘But that’s...’

‘Life, doctor,’ Brady interrupted. ‘Some of us have the privilege in life of doing what’s decent, moral and honourable and some of us have to do what’s necessary. Uncle Sam expects you to just do your job, OK?’

Mark agreed, feeling he was doing so on autopilot as he struggled to come to terms with what he was hearing but knowing that any protest he might make would probably result in his being asked what the hell he thought he was doing at Fort Detrick anyway: making toys for Christmas?’

‘Have you heard of the Khyber Pass, doctor?’ Brady asked.

‘Of course, in boyhood stories.’

‘Tomorrow you’ll be driving through it.’

Mark was the last to be picked up in the morning. He had been told it would be a low-key affair. This translated into two vehicles which looked military in origin with the ability to handle rugged terrain but lacking any markings. Brady introduced Mark to two others who would be travelling in their vehicle, a Pakistani intelligence officer named Faisal and a US marine driver named Mick. The other vehicle looked to contain four more marines, judging by their haircuts.

‘Faisal hails from the Khyber Pakhtunkhwa,’ said Brady.