“You won’t believe it. The CDC flew the sample of the virus they found in the basement to Atlanta to be tested. The tests were run three times. It turns out the virus was already dead. Ammar and his terrorists bought worthless stuff. The Russians found the guy who stole it, and he confessed. He knew the virus was dead. He cheated the terrorists.”
“So, what does that mean?” Zehra turned sideways and put her feet on the floor. Didn’t feel like she could stand yet.
“It means, we’re okay. There’s no epidemic! False alarm.”
Zerha’s family flooded into the room and hugged her.
Two days later, Paul invited Zehra to the FBI office in Minneapolis. When she arrived, she found him propped in a lounge chair in the conference room. His leg stuck out, wrapped in a colorful, plastic brace. Conway was there and several people she hadn’t met.
Paul called to her. “Hey, Zehra. Come on in. How’s your trial going?”
“Under the circumstances, we got a continuance. It’s pretty clear Mustafa was the killer. Until things are sorted out, the prosecutor isn’t dismissing the case yet.”
“Why didn’t the defendant tell you all this in the first place?” Paul asked.
Zehra shrugged. “He thinks I’m an infidel, so he’d never reveal anything to me. And, he’s a zealot. Maybe he felt it was his duty to take the fall and be a martyr in his own way. Who knows? What about the DNA?”
“Looks like Mustafa doctored the samples at the crime scene to frame El-Amin. Then, he planted the murder weapon in El-Amin’s apartment. It almost worked.” said Conway. He looked at Paul. “What do you know?”
“Well, I can’t tell you everything, but Ammar had been planning this for years. Embedded himself at Health Technologies as a cover and infiltrated three different mosques in order to recruit the young Somali men.”
“Why did they disappear?” Zehra asked.
“Testing. He and others recruited and sent them to Somalia. Most stayed to fight. But a few of the boys were isolated in the desert and infected with smallpox to see how it worked.”
“How horrible. Have you found the young men?”
Paul shook his head. “Unfortunately, we probably never will.”
Conway lumbered next to Paul’s bed. “We’re lucky here, that Paul’s alive-thanks to you.”
Zehra shrugged and wondered if that were true. “What about the threats to me? My car?”
“We assume Ammar did all of it. But there’re probably others still out there. Local police haven’t found any suspects for the deli shooting yet. We think it’s tied to Ammar’s scheme, so we’re involved in that now.”
Conway interrupted, “For your safety, I’ve authorized an agent-a new one-to stay with you for a few weeks. I fired the other one.”
Zehra felt somewhat relieved but not completely.
Paul looked away from the group.
“Once they had the transmission process worked out and knew the incubation period, the plan was to introduce it in the U.S,” Conway continued. “Although they wanted people to get sick and die of course, the main goal was panic.”
Paul interrupted, “Hysterical, mass panic would tear the country apart faster than any army or bomb could ever do. They could’ve easily destroyed us.” He tried to stand but fell back into the chair.
“Where’d they get the smallpox virus? I thought you said it was dead?”
“Looks like they bought two batches from the Russian. The first one was hot but the guy felt so guilty about selling it to terrorists, that when he sold the second batch, it was the dead virus. The world owes a debt to a crook with a conscience.”
Conway cleared his throat in a loud gurgle. He looked nervous and shifted his shoulders. “I need a cigarette,” he announced. He lowered his head and leaned down to Paul. “I’ve been so damn busy I haven’t had a chance but … congratulations.” He shook Paul’s hand. “You got a good shot to take over for me when I bail from here next year.”
“Thanks, but does that mean I’m not fired?” Paul’s face lit-up. “Zehra Hassan saved me and hey, what happened to the agents from ICE, Joan Cortez? Where’d they go?”
Conway stepped back and laughed deeply. “You didn’t hear?” He wiped his eye. “They busted the mosque in Burnsville before the rest of us got there. They were waiting for Ammar to show so they could grab him and all the glory.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing. Sat there for three hours until someone finally got through to them. The mosque’s suing the ass off of their agency, and I think Cortez got busted back to working for security at the airport.”
“Righteous, Joan,” Paul said.
“What about the victim in my trial?” Zehra asked.
Conway shook his head, “Poor son of a bitch. They infected him and were ready to roll out the transmission when the kid refused to cooperate. We figure Ammar had to kill him to keep things quiet. The fact the kid was hot explains why the killer wore all the protection.”
The conversation rolled on but Zehra lost interest. Most of it revolved around the federal bureaucracy and its internal struggles. Conway talked quietly with Paul. Zehra stopped when she heard Conway whispering.
“Luckily, the governor’s statement did it.”
“What do you mean?” Paul asked.
“We worked with him and all the brass you can imagine from Washington to get it right. We decided to call the whole thing a ‘training exercise.’ The possibility of the real deal was never mentioned. If the public ever knew the truth … Well, all I can say is, thank God it worked.”
Paul looked up at him. “I wouldn’t say it ‘worked’. I’d say we were damn lucky.” He turned back to Zehra. “How’re you holding up?”
“Oh … I’ve got my family and garden but …”
“Don’t worry. We’re not done chasing these guys down. I promise.”
Zehra didn’t want to hear anymore. Guilt and fatigue haunted her, but she found herself angry, instead. Angry at all the violence and fear the terrorists caused. “Thanks Paul, but we all have to do something. If moderate Muslims like me don’t stand up and fight these extremists, they’ll win.”
She stood to leave. Looked out the window at sun lighting up the piles of white clouds to the east. Turning back to the group, she said, “It’s about time some of us progressive Muslims declared our own ‘jihad’ against the terrorists.”
