Code of the Eagle (BWP90.00)
A thrilling action novel
$8.00$6.50
A deadly virus is stolen from a lab in Zimbabwe and hours later, bodies begin dropping in neighbouring Botswana under very strange and unknown circumstances.
Garikai, a semi-retired Zimbabwean spy living in Gaborone, is roped in to track and retrieve the virus. It seems it would be a straight forward proposition: track down a group of disgruntled scientists with a bone to chew against the government and take back what belongs to his country. Simple, that is, until bazookas start going off and Garikai gets more than he bargained for.
While Tsholofelo, a senior detective of the Botswana Police Service, is on the case for her country, Garikai is forced to improvise to stay ahead of an assassin's bullet or scientist's' syringe.
Garikai and Tsholofelo, an unlikely pair, are forced to team up and, together, they uncover a truth that will shake both nations to the core.
Elephant Laboratories
20 km west of Harare
Dr Roy Mare fished out a white lace handkerchief from his coat pocket and dabbed gingerly at his
bloodshot eyes, the bathroom mirror unflatteringly highlighted the bags beneath them. Lack of sleep and advanced age did not do his appearance any favours. Deep wrinkles trekked grooves around his eyes, nose and mouth, making him look older than his actual fifty-five years.
He shrugged at the mirror. Who cared what he looked like anyway? It was not like he had anyone to
impress with his looks. Not anymore.
A knot of familiar anger wound itself around his gut. If only the glass-wearing, pen-pushing bureaucrat
in the Defence Minister’s office had done his job, Mare’s wife would have lived. If the bureaucrat had
opened his mail and called the minister, she would have gotten treatment early and she would have been with him today. But the man had been too lazy and Mare’s wife had succumbed to heart failure while the cardiologist was waiting for the minister’s permission to put her on the VIP treatment method...
But he had avenged her. Oh yes. He had made sure the man suffered...
The public address system crackled to life, interrupting the flow of his thoughts.
“Five minutes before closing. Please make your way to the main gate.”
Dr Mare shook his head. The recorded female voice was more appropriate for a primary school than
a highly classified research lab. Putting on his glasses he made his way to one of the two elevators, swiped his security card and pressed the buttons for the main lab, two floors below ground level.
He stared defiantly at the CCTV camera in the elevator before smirking at it.
Foresight is a great thing, he boasted to himself. He stepped out of the elevator and walked a short
distance to a stainless steel door which had a small plastic box with a red light set at shoulder height.
Dr Mare removed his glasses and slightly leaned forward, aligning his left eye to the LED light. The light turned green and the door opened with a muted hiss.
By the time the door closed again, he was already in the decontamination cubicle going through the procedure of removing his coat and shoes in preparation for donning protective lab gear: rubber
soled boots that reached his calves, pale blue coveralls, gloves and solid front head gear. All this airtight personal protective equipment made him feel like he was on a trip to the moon instead of a quick dash to the main lab and back. Well, protocols are protocols.
He walked slowly down the pristine corridor with its humming air conditioners and extractor fans before stopping at the double-doors. There he punched an eight-digit security code into the panel and waited a short second before there was a click and a hiss as the doors rotated open, ushering the scientist into the lab.
A huge, shiny silver glass-fronted cabinet stood in the centre of the sparkly clean room, surrounded by glass work tables with various sealed experiments in progress. He ignored the experiments and touched the handle of a small compartment door on the top shelf of the cabinet. He waited and looked up at the blinking camera atop the cabinet. Another click and the glass door opened.
Good for you, Mr Guard, he thought. Wise choice.
Mare reached in and picked up a silver, unmarked, oblong, sealed container measuring approximately
25 centimetres in length with a diameter of four centimetres. He closed the glass door and retraced his steps, a spring in his step and a smile on his craggy features for the security cameras.
In the decontamination cubicle, he removed his protective equipment before he tucked the container
inside his lab coat and headed for the main gate. This was where the military guards conducted daily staff searches as the employees left to go home.
“Doctor.” The senior officer on duty – a sergeant, judging by the three stripes on his shoulders – greeted him, before waving him out.
Dr Mare sighed in relief but was not surprised. As one of the five most senior virologists at the lab, he enjoyed some privileges. One of which, apparently, was exemption from random frisking on the evening he had walked out with a weapon of mass destruction.