“Well, nobody has enough agents to tail every young Muslim who enters this country, even with the artificial delays being imposed. Best we can hope for is enough of a pool from several agencies and plainclothes officers from PDs in the major metro areas.”
Derringer thought for a moment. “That’s a hell of a lot of people to keep a secret very long.”
“You got that right, Boss.”
“I’m headed for the cafeteria. Let’s huddle there.”
Joe Wolf was fifteen pounds overweight and could hardly care less. “Like I always said: you’re a great American.”
Buster Hardesty did not have time for the full report; that could follow. But Rustam Khan’s highlights received priority attention.
The Pakistani officer’s usual aplomb had worn thin in two days. Hardesty had never seen Khan with a pocket unbuttoned; now the major was almost disheveled. Not that it mattered. They found a secluded corner in a government building and got to work.
“General, we have a breakthrough. Kassim has slept very little since he was captured, and not at all in the past thirty hours. Sleep deprivation combined with the chemical agents produced this.” He handed over a notepad with Khan’s impeccable English script.
Hardesty scanned the lines, then glanced up. “Who are these?”
“The intermediate handlers. They delivered the infected men to the final escorts: the ones who put our suspects on their airplane.”
Hardesty blew an audible breath. “Good work, Rustam. Excellent. But it’s going to take awhile to follow…”
“Already done, sir.”
“What?”
“It’s in the rest of my notes, General. The pieces fell into place. One of the final handlers escaped but we caught the other. He was offered two choices: he could disappear or he could become wealthy.” Khan gave an ironic shrug. “Fortunately, he is motivated by personal gain rather than philosophy. The temptation of easy riches.”
“But, when did all this happen? We planned on coordinating with…”
“I must apologize for that, sir. But we had an unexpected opportunity and we took it. In the circumstance, I did not think it wise to follow protocol. There was not time.”
Hardesty risked a familiar tap on his colleague’s shoulder. “Well, you did exactly the right thing, Rustam. Thank you. On behalf of everyone in my country, thank you.”
Khan sagged into his chair, visibly exhausted. “Remember, sir: my countrymen also suffer from terrorists.” He did not need to mention the loss his family also had sustained. “But we cannot rest yet. Look at the travel itinerary.”
Hardesty read to the bottom of the page. What he saw created a chilling sensation that prickled between his shoulder blades and widened his eyes. He looked at Khan. “Oh my god.”
Rustam Khan nodded slowly. “Yes, it is worse than we thought.”
Hardesty read the summary again. “From Islamabad to Morocco to… Brazil?”
“That is how it looks, sir.”
Hardesty’s response was instant comprehension linked to surging distress. He met Khan’s obsidian eyes. “Oh, no…”
“Here’s the latest intel,” Derringer began. “Two young Muslim males matching the descriptions we got from Khan were on an Air France flight day before yesterday. They left Rabat, Morocco, for Santos Dumont Airport in Rio de Janiero.”
Wolf asked, “Names, photos?”
“Our INS and DoT contacts are working on that, and will share any intel. However, it’s a cinch that by the time our suspects get to this country they’ll have new identities.
“So, we can make some assumptions, or at least educated guesses. Once they’re on this side of the pond they’ll avoid regular transport. They’ll likely use a chartered plane to fly into Mexico, where they’ll meet their local guides—
Wolf emitted a low whistle. “Gotta hand it to ‘em: it’s a beauty of a plan. In one jump they circumvent our entire airport security apparatus. All the agents and undercover people we alerted and put in place are useless. They’ll be focused on every young Muslim arriving by air, and it won’t matter. Meanwhile, our suspects will cross somewhere between San Diego and Brownsville. What’s that? Eighteen hundred miles?”
Derringer nodded. “Just about. But you know, they could just as easily enter by sea, on the Pacific coast or in the Gulf.”
Sandy interjected. “Just a minute, sir. Couldn’t they also fly in? Or take a boat to Florida or somewhere else? After all, they have at least a few days before—”
Derringer shook his head. “I don’t think so, Sandy. Under other conditions you’d be right to consider that, but time is crucial. Far as we know, this is the last chance to get infected couriers into the country. I think they’d take the most direct route possible. Besides, SSI can’t do much about port security or airline passengers — unless we’re put on somebody’s tail so the feds can maintain their anti-profiling charade.”
“So where does that leave us, sir?”
“It leaves us somewhere in the Sonoran Desert. We know for certain that al Qaeda has sent recon parties through various border areas. Hell, it’s entirely possible that they’ve already infiltrated terror cells that way. In any case, I think that Sharif or somebody in his organization would have contacts with experienced smugglers: professionals who will work for anybody if the price is right.”
Wolf said, “Mike, if I may play devil’s advocate: what’s the proof? As you said, if this was Sharif’s last chance. But we need to be right the first time, too.”
“Fair enough.” Derringer stood up and walked to the front of the room. He selected one of several pull-down maps and revealed the western hemisphere. Tapping South America he said, “The geography. If our two guys flew from Morocco to Brazil, and it’s almost certain that they did, ask yourself why.”
“Well, sure,” Wolf exclaimed. “The geometry of the situation points to the border. But there could be factors involved that we have no way of knowing.”
“Concur. But we have to start somewhere, and I think we can make some basic assumptions.” Derringer raised a hand and began ticking off points on his fingertips. “One: they’re on a schedule, and probably a pretty tight one. After all, some of their previous Marburg couriers fell sick or died en route. Two: we know about this entire scheme because the first case literally spilled his guts at Heathrow. So they want to avoid control points. Three: the current suiciders are both young, probably inexperienced travelers. It’s not even certain that both speak English, and I doubt like hell that they speak Spanish. That means they’ll need help. Four: all the foregoing indicate a likely covert border crossing.”
Derringer touched his thumb. “Five: they want to optimize their chances by placing both Marburg bombers in a major population center. To me, that means two likely targets: San Diego and Phoenix, maybe LA.”
Sandy Carmichael tapped her pencil against her chin. “Sir, I agree. But do we try to operate in both areas? We’re spread awfully thin…”
“I agree, Sandy. I’d feel better if we could pull Julio’s team out of Guatemala, especially since he has most of our Spanish speakers. But there’s no time to redeploy. So, lacking other information, how would you proceed, Joe?”
Wolf raised his hands, palms up. “Ya got me, Boss.”
Derringer scanned the room, visually polling the other staffers. Receiving no additional input, he raised the hemisphere map and pulled the one showing the western United States.
“Very well. Here’s our new theater of operations. It’s nearly two thousand miles across an east-west front. It’s the most porous border in the industrialized world. Thousands of illegals cross it every day, and not all of them are looking for work. Some of them want to destroy this country.
“So… we need maximum coordination, especially with intel. Frankly, that’s what worries me the most. Oh, we’ll get the info, all right, but maybe not in time to use it. There’s just too many irons in the fire: too many
