Chesterfield paused at the door then pointed at the man. “Destroy it all. No record that we ever pulled it up. Understood?” He turned and exited before the man could respond.
Chesterfield slammed his office door and picked up the phone. “Get me the Forward Operating Base in Torkham.” He leaned back in his chair and ran his fingers through his sweat slickened hair. He knew that his only chance now was if the same operators that had tainted the flags were still in country. They could snatch al-Abadi and ensure that the man died from the effects of the flag burning.
He just had to pray that they were operational and could track their prey.
Karachi, Pakistan
THE DEMONSTRATION STARTED on time. Those being paid to protest knew that if their employer was watching and they weren’t doing their jobs, they could miss out on a significant pay day.
People of all ages marched down the street carrying signs and banners and waving AKs over their heads. The signs were written in English so that the Western nations who viewed them would understand exactly their intent. “Death to Satan”, “Death to America”, “Death to Israel” and every variation one could think of had been hastily painted and many were still wet as the protestors marched, shouting and spitting at cameras.
Al-Jazeera had crews set up in three different locations, each pointed to show the long line of people willing to march in the streets and shout down the evil that they felt had invaded their lands. Reporters recited the very lines that al-Abadi had written for them, explaining the purpose of the march, the reasons why so many had come out to show their support for this noble cause, and the anger and frustration exemplified by the working poor of the region.
As if on cue, the many flags that Mamoon al-Abadi had made for the event were brought out and unfurled. Most were spat upon, dragged across the ground and some had rocks or bottles hurled at them. Many of the men carrying the flags had donned face masks to hide their identity, but just as many refused to. They wanted to be sure that their employer saw them as they burned the great emblem of the evil empire that had dared occupy their country.
Soon, flaming flags were hoisted high in the air as the crowd cheered or chanted “Death, death, death to the great Satan!”
However, moments later, people began to choke. Some fell to their knees while others turned from the crowd and vomited violently onto the streets. Screams were heard as women cradled the dying, choking themselves between sobs.
Many who were closest to the burning effigies simply dropped to the ground, the life gone from their eyes before their heads hit the cobblestone. One reporter, unaware of what was happening, ordered his camera man to turn to the crowds who were surely dropping and praying. It took a moment for reality to sink in, and the reporter began yelling into his microphone that they were dying. They watched in horror as people began scrambling to get away from the unseen specter of death that swept through the streets of Karachi.
16
Karachi, Pakistan
THE STRIKE TEAM was in and out in record time.
People on site were neutralized, samples taken for the white coats to study and charges were set and ready. As the men entered the black helicopters, their team leader turned and pressed the remote detonator. A series of muffled explosions echoed across the industrial area as he turned and hopped into the craft.
The helicopters rose in unison and banked to the east, their flight plan keeping them low and well below radar.
The team leader looked to his wrist and checked his watch. The timing was perfect. He glanced out the side of the craft and saw the ugly black plume working its way to the city center. Sucks to be you. He chuckled as he considered the idiocy of creating a biowarfare lab in an old blood bank on the edge of the most populated city in Pakistan. From saving lives to taking them. Serves you right.
He watched the rooftops zip by as the craft continued east then suddenly banked and headed north toward Torkham. He leaned back and closed his eyes for the trip, his hand resting on the pouch that held the vials stolen from the lab.
Karachi, Pakistan
“BRIDGER!” STEVE SHOUTED from across the building. He waved the man over and pointed to the computer screen. “This is live.”
Bobby watched as the cameras panned from scene to scene, bodies strewn across the ground haphazardly, blood, bile and vomit soaking the clothes and puddling onto the ground. He couldn’t understand the reporter who now held a scarf over her mouth and shouted into her microphone.
“What the hell is going on? Where is this?”
Steve pointed to the signs littering the area. “I’d bet that’s the demonstration that he was supposed to be at today.”
Bridger snatched the laptop from the small table and took it to where al-Abadi still sat zip tied in his chair. “This! This is what they had in mind for you.” He thrust the computer toward the man and watched as he leaned back, his eyes trying to focus on the carnage.
“I-I have no idea what…where is this?” He leaned forward and Bobby watched the man suddenly pale. “No…no, these are my people.”
“Were your people.” Bobby pulled the laptop back and handed it to Jay. “This is what they intended for you.” He pulled the man closer and clenched his teeth. “I want to know why!”
Muhammed al-Abadi shook his head nervously. “I swear to you. I have no idea why they would target me. I have done nothing against the Americans. I arm insurgents who fight for control of their regions. That is all.”
Bobby yelled and kicked the man’s chair
