died in pain in a strange place, without a known grave. But Sial took comfort from Imam Taamir, a Los Angeles congregational leader who was obviously capable yet personable, as far as his position allowed. He was not given to small talk, and spent much of the trip in silence beside the holy warrior while one of two aides drove the Mercedes.
At length the cleric said, “I marvel at Dr. Sharif’s vision, my friend. To think that he conceived this plan before he even met you.”
“Is it true that he is dead?”
“Martyred. He is martyred.”
“As is my brother, Mian.”
“Truly. They are both with God.”
Sial sat quietly for a moment, sensing the first stage symptoms: fever, chills, and a pulsing headache, all as the doctor had foretold. Then he found the words he sought. “I can feel the disease growing inside me. Shall I really be with Allah, wise one?”
Taamir knew enough of the plan to take precautions. He did not touch the courier, though if the cleric absorbed some of the virus, that was God’s will; part of the
For all his devotion and study, Hazrat Sial was still a twenty-year-old farmer’s son from the hills of Baluchistan. “I… I confess. I am afraid.”
Taamir turned to survey the biowarrior. “That is understandable, my brother. You are bound on a journey which few have the courage to undertake. For that, you deserve all praise.”
“I expected to die with Mian. We were to have one another’s comfort. Now…”
The imam was quick to respond. The boy needed handling. “Now you are receiving the comfort of God himself. Take that, accept it. Believe it!”
The young Pakistani made no reply. He merely turned his head, watching the desert landscape cruise past at a hundred kilometers per hour.
“Remember another thing,” Taamir added. “You shall not be truly alone.” He gestured to the front seat where an aide rode in silence. “Mohammed will stand vigil over you. As I explained, he will not be able to provide direct assistance, but he will observe your actions and the response of the infidels. He can deceive them, delay their efforts perhaps. And report the fulfillment of your work.”
The passenger looked over his shoulder at Sial. The man’s name was not Mohammed, but that was of small concern. As the imam had directed, the aide would maintain his distance from the courier, but remain in sight to lend encouragement should the jihadist waver. At least it sounded convincing at the time.
Derringer walked into the conference room. “Carolyn Padgett-Smith is critical. She’s not expected to live.”
“Oh, no…” Sandy Carmichael’s voice was hushed.
Omar Mohammed’s reply was muted. He had not believed she would live this long.
“I just heard from her husband,” Derringer continued. “He said she’s rallied a little after last night when a naturopath visited her. She seems to think it’ll help but Charles… well, he doesn’t.”
Sandy shook her head. “Why would that veterinarian want to kill her? Was he just spiteful? I mean, it was over!”
Mohammed found his voice. “We shall never know, Sandy. But I can speculate. Sharif spent many of his formative years in England. He lost his way from the righteous path, and he may have blamed British women in part. After all, he committed the sin of fornication, and there is evidence that he developed the Marburg virus as a means of proving his conversion.”
“By becoming a holy warrior.”
Mohammed nodded. “Exactly.”
Leopole and Catterly convened the briefing in their suite at the Skyview Inn on Van Buren Street near the airport. The room was crowded as twenty-two operators arrayed themselves on sofas, chairs, and the carpeted floor. The door kickers were augmented by Terry Keegan and Eddie Marsh, who had to fly the 727, plus Wolf’s investigators, Sherree Kim and Jim Mannock.
Leopole made the introductions. “Sherree and Jim know the basics of the case and interviewed the original Marburg volunteer’s parents. They flew out here commercial to join us.” He allowed a slight grin. “Beyond that fact, I wanted them here just because they don’t look like any of you guys.”
When the chuckles died down, Leopole turned to business. “Guys, I’ll say it loud and clear: this entire operation is about deniability, as much as in Pakistan. We’ve been contracted because the government is not permitted to target ethnic groups or individuals, even if the rest of the world knows who poses the threat. Yes, it’s stupid and it’s counterproductive. But that’s the way it is.
“Officially, we’re just passing through the airport, and if we happen to see something suspicious, we notify the security people or we take direct action: our call. As soon as you have a suspect in hand, turn him over to the authorities — and vanish. If there’s any reporting at all, the media will be told that security forces made the arrest or that private citizens noticed suspicious activity, depending on the immediate situation. In any case, nobody is to connect SSI with this operation.
“Schedules: we’re going to spend rotating shifts in each terminal or riding the shuttles: eight hours on, six off, until further notice. If nothing turns up in a couple of days, we’ll probably go home.
“Now, we have liaison officers who officially don’t know what we’re doing but who can run interference. Check your notes: you have Mr. Timmons and Mr. Meagher from TSA plus Mr. Shub and Ms. Calthrop from DHS. If you have any problems — any at all — call or page them and they’ll clear the red tape for you. At least one of them will be available round the clock. The ID you’ve been given should get you through any security gate in the airport, but only show the badge if you’re questioned.”
Bosco fingered his badge in the laminated plastic holder with the metal clip. As instructed, he would keep it hidden unless needed.
“As far as the gatekeepers are concerned, you’re all members of the airport security detail. But our bigger concern is keeping you from being noticed by our suspects. That’s why I asked most of you to wear travel attire and to carry a valise or suitcase. You have ticket envelopes for the appropriate airlines in your terminal, and at this rate, we can keep teams in each terminal for the next twenty hours or so.”
“Comm. You have hand-held radios in your bags. We’d like something less conspicuous but that’s what we’ve got so that’s what we’ll use. Pay attention to the public address system. If you hear a call for me or Dr. Catterly that probably means somebody’s spotted a suspect. If your radio’s down, tap in the access code on a white courtesy phone or dial the 800 number at a pay phone. At that point, we’ll establish a rotating surveillance of the guy so he doesn’t spot one operator in particular. If he does something overt, use your judgment. That could mean anything from tackling him to shooting him. If it develops into a chase or there’s multiple suspects, use your respirator, goggles, and gloves. By then we won’t be playing like tourists anymore.”
Leopole gestured to Catterly, who rose to speak. “I can’t add much to what I said before, but I’ll review the basics for the new members. As a frame of reference, Marburg has a similarity to streptococcus. ‘Step B’ kills healthy tissue by breaking down the body’s protein matrix. The infected area creates a growing number of dead cells, which gives the bacteria more room to grow, creating a vicious cycle. The more they grow, the more toxins are produced and the more cells are affected. It’s a lot like gangrene: the dying tissue has to be amputated before the infection proves fatal.”
“So how’s that different from Marburg?”
Catterly shook his head. “In that respect, it’s not. Strep B is most common in babies and pregnant women, but across the board the main difference is the degree of virulence. You don’t get twenty-five percent mortality from strep. You do with Marburg. You could say that it’s Strep B on steroids: more aggressive and it works faster.” He made a face. “I don’t even want to think about Ebola right now.”
Sherree Kim raised a hand. “Doctor, what are we looking for? I mean, what kind of action could be called overt?”
“Just keep this in mind: the virus is best spread by direct contact with body fluids of the carrier. So anybody who spits on door handles, railings, or phones is a suspect. If he licks his hands and rubs them on a surface, that’s
