Hindsight: Crispr, the Last Word in Wmd

By L. A. Jaworski

Hindsight tells the riveting story of a brilliant but naïve young scientist, Katie Pendleton. Her use of gene-editing technology creates a super-seed. The super-seed is capable of feeding the world’s population. Unfortunately, her research is stolen by a crazed terrorist who creates an unstoppable self-repairing super-spore capable of wiping out all agriculture. Independent of her actions, an NSA double naught spy wannabe, Larry Seabreeze, discovers the act albeit late. Separately they both work to solve their piece of the puzzle while the sitting president struggles with world events and personal betrayal.

This novel appeals to readers of all ages. Hindsight contains many irresistible elements: world-wide espionage, current events, intrigue, character growth and development.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Nov 19, 2019
• ISBN: 9781973673699

L. A. Jaworski

L. A. Jaworski is a professional business man, licensed CPA, Attorney with an LLM. His specialization is Taxation. The author has been successful in previous endeavors. Writing was a natural progression of events given his lifelong passion and desire. The timing could not have been more perfect. Skills were honed telling stories to his children. Unfortunately, they grew-up and graduated college as children sometimes do. The extra time provided has been spent writing. Publication seemed the next logical step.

Book preview

Hindsight

CRISPR, the Last Word in WMD

L. A. Jaworski

39292.png

Copyright © 2019 L. A. Jaworski.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

WestBow Press

A Division of Thomas Nelson & Zondervan

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.westbowpress.com

1 [phone]

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

ISBN: 978-1-9736-7390-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-9736-7391-0 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-9736-7369-9 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019913452

WestBow Press rev. date: 11/14/2019

Contents

Prologue…

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

PART II

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-three

Chapter Twenty-four

Chapter Twenty-five

Chapter Twenty-six

Chapter Twenty-seven

PART III

Chapter Twenty-eight

Chapter Twenty-nine

Chapter Thirty

Prologue…

Displaced by Technology, Humanities Sunset—Daniel placed the paper on the table. He finished his morning coffee, milk, two sugars. The Rag was a local nondescript newspaper. Circular really. The author, Jenny Pendleton, was no better. Yet, it was the insight and conclusion that interested Daniel. Internal projections put the number closer to 38%, not 27%. Ms. Pendleton’s conclusions were correct. Overpopulation…the proverbial it is what it is cliché.

The issues identified by Ms. Pendleton were mainstream economic reality…headline fodder for the talking heads…political WMD’s for the president. Daniel was chief economist for the Federal Reserve Bank of St. Louis. He knew his duty. He agreed something need be done but what? No one had successfully put the genie back inside the bottle. Daniel doubted Ms. Pendleton held the answers. He trusted his instincts and acted accordingly.

Chapter One

An archeological finding from the University of Calgary determined that humans have relied on cereal grains for over 100,000 years…rice, wheat, and corn…a staple dietary crop.

Argentina

Pampas and Mesopotamia Regions

Alberto looked at his fields from the kitchen window. Not close, but close enough. Close enough for Alberto to set his morning coffee down and have a look-see.

It was the first week in November. Alberto suspected there was a problem. He stepped from the kitchen and crossed the porch. The screen door clanging shut was barely audible over the crunching gravel beneath his feet. Alberto was deliberate; his actions had purpose. The sounds a distraction from the problem that loomed before him.

The crops were not coming up. Sprouts should be visible. No late frost or blight reported. Yet there was most definitely a problem. Alberto dropped to one knee. He reached into the ground. Who says farmers don’t get dirty? What he pulled up was unsettling. He stood up and looked down the field. He started to walk. Periodically he stopped to check the row. He stepped across rows while he walked and checked neighboring rows. They were all the same. He continued this procedure while he retrieved his cell phone and called his neighboring farmers. He ordered them all back into their fields. Each one was provided instructions, report back to him immediately. Time is money. If he could get replanted in ten days, there would be a crop to harvest. If not, it would be a long winter.

The calls came in one by one. Everyone was reporting the same thing. Some more extensive than others. Meeting tonight in town at the hall. Eight o’clock, the text message read. Alberto stared off into the distance, the Andes clearly visible. Two more calls to make…the first call was to the local botanist at the University in Rosario. The second was to the Minister of Agro-industry, Alberto’s cousin José.

~~~

José speaking.

José, it’s Alberto.

Alberto, how are you?

Not good. We have a meeting scheduled tonight at eight o’clock. I have called the University in Rosario and spoke with the botanist, Angelina Montero. She will be here tomorrow. I think you should be as well. José hesitated before questioning his older cousin. José had the job that Alberto did not want.

What seems to be the problem?

I honestly do not know. My fields and those of my neighbors and their neighbors are ruined. I will have to replant and by extension so will everyone else.

They can’t be saved?

No, they cannot. I’m more worried about the soil and a barren field than I am a poor season.

I’ll see you tomorrow at ten, José said.

She’ll be here at nine, Alberto responded.

Nine, it is. The call ended. José did not want to but knew that he must. He stood up and walked down to the president’s office. Bad news never gets better with age.

Alberto’s thoughts returned to the evenings meeting and the establishment of a plan.

~~~

Jesus Maria, Argentina

Alberto arrived at 6:45 p.m. Neighboring farmers began to arrive by 7:15. By 7:50, there was a packed house. Standing room only to the event nobody wanted to attend. The average Argentinean’s farm is over 400 acres. More times than not, the farmer’s children choose city life over the family farm. The Quinterro’s enjoyed farming. Their farm grew by acquisition. It seemed to work for them.

At 8:00, Alberto took the stage and everyone sat down. Okay, let’s get started. You all know why we are here. Tomorrow morning, I will be meeting with Ms. Montero from the University in Rosario. José will also be present. Everyone knew the Quinterro family and most knew José personally.

I see many of you brought samples. Mine are on the table over there. Alberto motioned with a wave of his arm. I expect Ms. Montero and José by nine o’clock tomorrow. If you haven’t brought samples but wish to do so, please provide the seed used, fertilizer, disease suppressant, and when you planted. Any questions so far? Alberto asked.

Alberto was all business. Everyone in the room knew he had their best interest at heart with his own.

My fear is the soil, not a poor season. Whatever this is, it struck quickly and effectively. I personally estimate an 83 percent destruction of all cereal grains planted on Quinterro land. If affected, some of my fruit trees and grapevines will be showing stress soon. For those of you that have similar crop selection, let’s stay in touch. This is not the time to be competitive, parsimonious. Assuming this is isolated blight, we may have to burn our fields to destroy whatever it is. If that is the case, then this season is likely over now. People began to stir and mumble. Many, if not most, were not financially sound. The Quinterro’s and a select few could survive. A lost season was the difference between one and done for the majority.

Quiet, please, Alberto said. The mumbling died down. Let’s think about it. If it is a spore, we cannot take the chance that it’s still in the soil to destroy newly planted crops. Water could spread the spore…and wind. If we burn the field, we lose the topsoil and will be forced to fertilize. We’ll plant alfalfa or a similar crop to stave off soil erosion. That’s my thought process. We’ll know more tomorrow. For now, does anyone have any questions for me? Anything I’m not considering?

The room fell silent, there were no questions for Alberto. There were no items missed or what ifs not considered. It was a bad situation that could get substantially worse.

~~~

The Argentinian agriculture industry contributes 5 percent to the country’s gross domestic product, GDP. GDP is the national output of goods and services valued at market prices. Five percent may seem immaterial, but the ripple effect is staggering. The agriculture industry employs over 13 percent of the nation’s workforce. That is 1.4 million people. The likelihood of those jobs being absorbed elsewhere in the economy is zero. Food costs would skyrocket, adding to hyperinflation that the country might never recover from. The previous economic crisis was still fresh in the minds of the average Argentinean.

Alberto was neither a biologist nor a botanist. He was a farmer. However, he was an educated farmer. He knew there were over 100,000 different kinds of fungi. Most were beneficial to the soil through decomposition; however, there were roughly 8,000 types of fungi that were deadly to plants. Damping off was one such kind.

Damping off attacks seedlings before they break through the soil. It has been known to strike seedlings that are an inch or so tall. The fungus rots the stem at the soil line and can destroy an infected seedling overnight.

Alberto was looking at various samples under the microscope and concerned. Damping off requires that the soil the seedlings are placed in be saturated. Excessively moist. The soil on his fields was not overly moist. If this were a new strain, it could create problems for future crops. He looked at several more samples before calling it a night at 2:47 a.m. Morning would arrive soon enough.

~~~

Alberto woke at 6 a.m.—late. There was a time when he was up at 4:30 a.m. every morning, but those days were long gone. He walked to the kitchen. Remembering his cell phone on the nightstand, he retraced his steps. At fifty-seven, he did not have to worry about many illnesses, but he was becoming forgetful. He laughed. Returning to the kitchen, Consuelo was making his breakfast. Good mornings were exchanged before Alberto took a seat at the breakfast table outside.

He checked his text messages. None of the neighboring farmers’ fields had a high level of soil saturation. While finishing his second cup of coffee, three vehicles pulled into the turnaround at the end of the driveway. More samples for the botanist. Fifteen more were to be received by the time Ms. Montero and José were to arrive.

José was early, eight o’clock. Consuelo showed him to the breakfast table. Alberto and José were deep in conversation when Consuelo showed Ms. Montero to the table.

Angelina Montero was thirty-four years of age. She was new to the university. She was considered extremely intelligent and had written many articles on terrorists’ use of the food chain. A weapon of mass destruction. The fact that she was five feet nine inches tall, shapely with shoulder-length coal black hair that glistened in the sun, only added to her overall beauty.

Introductions were made. Alberto dove right into the problem. Ms. Montero…

Angelina … please.

Angelina, José and I were discussing your academic credentials just now. We were also discussing your views on terrorists’ use of the food chain as a potential weapon. I am not saying that this is the case here nor am I now discounting it. I will say that it is something I never considered.

Okay, Angelina said. She was not yet certain why she was here other than the fact that Alberto Quinterro called.

Angelina, every year we check the soil that we farm. We have over four thousand five hundred acres of farmland and take over three hundred soil samples. This farmland is the richest most fertile soil in the world. True black gold. That is, up until this time yesterday. Alberto paused because he wanted her to grasp what he was about to say.

I have lost over 80 percent of my crop. Wheat, corn, soybeans … gone. My neighbors have all lost percentages close to that. Their neighbors and their neighbors’ neighbors have lost similar percentages. My fruit crops have not yet been affected but I will need to check them daily. Again, my neighbors will be doing the same and their neighbors. On the table behind me, are marked samples from twenty-three neighboring farms. The farthest one from this farm is over two hundred miles away. Pause for effect and a sip of coffee. We have all been hit. We have all been affected. Alberto’s voice tailed off. The impact of what had happened was starting to sink in.

Angelina thought for the longest time. She had always believed that the cereal grain portion of the food chain was a likely terrorist’s target, or at least it should be in her opinion. Cereal grains are a primary source of carbohydrates and proteins. They are not simply for human consumption either. Most cattle and other types of livestock are corn fed. The pros and cons aside, it is still a fact. But Angelina had always queried what would happen if the cereal grain supply chain were disrupted.

Just so I understand you, you’re saying that your farm and every farm between here and 200-plus miles have been affected by a disease? And that that disease has wiped out approximately 80 percent of the crops planted? Angelina raised an eyebrow and moved forward in her chair. She placed her hands on the table before moving further to stand up.

Yes, Angelina, that is exactly what I am saying, Alberto responded. She stood up from the breakfast table and walked over to the table that held the samples. She grabbed a bag at random and looked at the contents. Each bag had an index written directly on the bag or on a Post-it Note. The index included the date planted, seed used, fertilizer, and disease suppressant and insecticide. This would be useful data but likely useless in finding a solution. She looked at two or three more bags before asking to look at some fields.

The first fields viewed were Quinterro’s. Angelina took 100 sample bags with her. They drove across several of the fields. Was it like this yesterday? Angelina asked.

No, Alberto said before adding, This field was still green yesterday. Now it looks dead. The disease has consumed everything. Alberto shook his head. Whatever it is, it is fast acting.

They continued to walk across the fields. They noticed a few dead crows in the field, a mouse or two. Angelina took them for further testing. Once she’d filled her sample bags from various points on the field and compass, they drove to three other farms and did the same thing. By the end of the day, they had exhausted the sample bags but had a fairly accurate geographic coverage.

Any suggestions? José asked.

None yet, Angelina said.

Should they replant? José asked. This is not the time to be overly cautious. A complete loss of crops will make the economic crisis of 2000 look like a day at the beach. José was not trying to pressure her. The situation was minacious and needed no help from him.

My guess would be no to replanting, the disease may have a dormancy characteristic. Remember, most fungi do not make their own food; they live off their host. In this case, they have consumed the host. If there’s a dormancy characteristic, then replanting won’t do anything to help.

Do fungi generally have a dormancy characteristic? José asked.

Some do.

So what makes you think this one does? Alberto asked.

The distribution’s too widespread. To me it seems planned. Orchestrated. All crops affected. Arguably within the same time period. Too much of a coincidence for my thinking. Angelina sighed. Besides, if this is manmade, and I’m not saying that it is, it’s what I would have done were I to create such a fungus. Alberto and José looked despondent.

Should they burn their fields? José asked.

Give me a couple of days, Angelina said.

We don’t have much time. I need to be back in the field; otherwise, I won’t have any crop to harvest.

Would you rather I tell you to return to the field and lose yet another crop? Give me a day, two tops. Call others in if you’d like; they’ll tell you the same thing. She got into her car.

Listen, I understand the situation, she began. I was standing in line just like everyone else in 2000 to draw my allotment from the bank. Post a notice to all farmers affected. Have them send me soil and crop samples. Where possible, provide GPS coordinates, I would like to see the area affected. I’ll be in touch, and she drove off.

Alberto and José stood in silence. The situation was bad and they both knew it. Neither was used to being asked to wait for answers. Both secretly hoped it was not what they thought. Secretly … neither wanting to verbalize what the other believed.

I have to call the president, José said. He entered the house. Alberto followed. He drafted a group text message and sent it out. Soil samples, crop samples, Angelina’s address at the university, and above all else, do not say anything to anybody for at least forty-eight hours. Alberto knew that that would never last.

Chapter Two

The United States is the largest export of cereal grains in the world and produced more food than the entire European Union combined.

St. Louis, Missouri

Work was work; Katie was reminded when she entered her office. Bail Prichard had had some success in creating a potentially deadly fungus. Small-scale testing would be required. I am still looking at the end of the year. From there we could begin development of a fungicide, the email read.

Katie was burned out. Joseph’s letter and package to her confirmed her fears. She was being frozen out but by whom or was it a group of whoms. It was her discovery…her research that would save the world. She sat motionless before exhaling and beginning her day.

~~~

National Security Agency

Larry continued to monitor local developments in Argentina. He was able to triangulate the location of the cell phone transmissions and focused his attention there. The area he was interested in was the northern portion of Argentina. It was the more densely populated part of the country. Yet there was no traditional evidence of a terrorist attack. It was when Larry thought of it in a traditional sense that he began to think outside the box.

Why must everything be a car bomb? Larry said out loud. Another analyst happened to walk by.

Excuse me.

Sorry. I was just thinking out loud. I was asking myself must everything be a car bomb. At some point, terrorist will evolve into a higher form of terrorism. Evolution is not selective. Everything evolves or dies.

Higher forms of terrorism may have us wanting the car bomb, the analyst said before walking away.

~~~

Buenos Aires, Argentina

José’s phone call with the president went as expected. She informed the Minister of the Interior and the Minister of Science, who sent fifteen lab assistants to the University in Rosario to work with Dr. Montero. This was given top priority.

~~~

Countries are always at war. True warfare in modern terms is economic. But at the end of the day, it’s all about trying to do the right thing. The president had consented to José’s suggestion that he send an alert to several trading partners, a gesture of goodwill. The email went out to twenty-six recipients. There are 193 individual countries in the world today. Less than 15 percent qualifies one for doing the right thing. The email was short and sweet with confirmation that further information will be forthcoming.

Jonathan Livingston was a recipient of José’s gesture. He read the email and initially paid it no mind; however, an hour later, he reread the email and forwarded a copy to Patrick with a query. Please confirm through your overseas operation. Would your super-seed survive? For the time being, Jonathan chose to forget the conversation he had had with Amged.

Upon receipt of Jonathan’s email, Patrick was concerned. Not at the question but at the gaps in José’s initial email to Jonathan and the other recipients. He forwarded the email to Amged with the note Please follow up and advise. Upon receipt, Amged simply smiled and held on to the email. He would later forward the email to Marshall, but first he placed a call to Sherrief and informed him of the outcome of Project Jericho. The call was intercepted and forwarded to the assigned desk analyst.

~~~

Larry received and analyzed the call for content and location. With that, he was better able to triangulate the cell phone to Central Illinois. The calls were simply too short in duration to afford a better and more accurate location fix. The Argentinian situation was easier. Seven messages simultaneously leaving an area create their own beacon. There was no question that something had happened. Unfortunately, Larry’s lack of actual field experience did not afford him a gut instinct.

~~~

Dr. Montero had worked through the night and was greeted in the morning by fifteen lab technician/assistants. They were from the Ministry of Science. She was thankful for their support. Space and equipment were at a premium; they came prepared. Given the relatively rural nature of Argentina and its developing country classification, previous administrations had purchased several mobile labs. These labs were equipped with powerful microscopes, portable computers that could be networked together, and one portable electronic microscope. One being better than none.

After an entire night of research, Dr. Montero was more comfortable explaining to the technicians what her expectations were. Given the long night of analyzing plant and soil samples, she was beginning to formulate a hypothesis.

While the lab technicians continued the task directed, Dr. Montero took a quick nap. She would discuss the results of their research and hers with José when she had time. That is to say, after she woke.

~~~

Tabuk, Saudi Arabia

Sherrief sat outside his residence and looked to the sky for answers. He was not alarmed that Project Jericho had been discovered within a relatively short period of time. It was always going to be discovered. Of that, there was never a doubt. What troubled Sherrief was the delivery system. How can we disburse Jericho to the true infidel and those usurper wannabes?

Since 9/11, the United States had been more difficult to infiltrate. People were nosy into the affairs of others. There was a pre–World War II mentality: Report aggressive drivers by texting *77, Report suspicious personal behavior, See Something Say Something. The groundwork had been laid. Sherrief intended to build on it.

Sherrief and his operatives would not be able to purchase planes and fly them into the United States without being stopped. China either. They would also find it difficult to purchase several planes within the two countries for the intended purpose. Canada could be added to that list. Discreet multiple purchases were an option. Rental for this particular task was an option. Coordination would have to be perfect. But again, how to outfit the planes for crop dusting without someone or a group of someone’s becoming suspicious?

Hakeem had joked about simply sprinkling the spores from the windows of the plane and trusting to the trade winds. That was a possibility but again not reliable. Air balloons were even discussed but again trusting to luck.

Sherrief sat there and stared at the sky, waiting for an answer. Call it divine intervention.

The sky was beautiful. It always seemed to be. Higher elevation brought one closer to the clouds. The air was crisp and clean. There was no pollution here, this was not the West and Far East. Men of the West and those who chose to follow them had no soul, Sherrief thought.

The moon was out. The night sky was relatively clear. There was a light cloud shrouding the moon in a fine see-through veil. More mist than cloud really. Cirrus clouds, Sherrief thought. They are the clouds that are at 20,000+ feet. Tabuk was at 2,500 feet. There were times when he felt he could touch the clouds they seem so close. Sherrief placed his feet on the balcony ledge and leaned back in his chair. Something he would scold his children for doing. He sat back staring at the shroud, becoming mesmerized by it. He was missing something. He stayed in that position for several minutes before falling asleep.

~~~

Buenos Aires, Argentina

José was in his office early. He’d barely gotten any sleep. He had been in contact with his counterparts in Brazil, Paraguay, and Uruguay. These countries were not necessarily friendlies nor were they enemies. Again, it was the right thing to do.

Each country seemed to have been affected. Though on a much smaller scale. They were also less able to deal with the situation. Developing country is a relative term. Data should be forthcoming…sufficient to reflect the extent of the devastation. José was confident while he sipped his morning coffee. What was the likelihood of this being a natural phenomenon? He would hold off further exploration of that idea until he spoke with Dr. Montero.

Chapter Three

Argentina ranks number 2 in corn exports, 7th in wheat exports, and 15th in rice exports.

Rockville, Maryland

Jonathan woke earlier than normal. Being the Secretary of the Department of Agriculture was not demanding in today’s technologically driven economy. However, it had possibilities, which were what was keeping Jonathan from a sound night’s sleep. He recalled Amged’s comment or conversation, depending upon one’s point of view. Amged was pretty clear with his meaning being anything but vague: A test area first, say Argentina. Coincidence? Jonathan was not that naïve to think so.

The question Jonathan had was twofold: What’s in it for me? And do I have the stomach for it?

The answer to the first question was easy. Money! And a lot of it.

The answer to the second question was more difficult. That answer would require soul-searching, introspection, self-examination. Jonathan was no fool. He was in politics. He had skeletons in the closet and bodies buried out back. This will take some time, he thought.

~~~

St. Louis, Missouri

There was a buzz about the office Katie noticed. Maybe it was from the vacation. She felt more relaxed than in recent days. Sun, sand, and good company can have that effect on people … even me.

So what’s all the excitement about? Katie was getting coffee in the break room. The lab technician looked at her before responding. Back already, Katie thought.

There was some type of natural disaster or some such, the technician said with a wave of his hand, in Argentina. Our super-seed is getting field tested … literally. The technician giggled at his own witticism.

Disaster? Where? Katie asked.

Argentina someplace. Marshall has the details, the technician said before he left the break room. Katie leaned against the counter and sipped her coffee. She did not want to,