“Yes, Sir, Ma’am.”
Kronos had the backdoor shut and SCIAD secure thirty seconds after the tape finished uploading.
Bill asked the tech to hand the phone back to Brooke. “Brooke, what happened up there?”
“Looks like these guys had cold cream jars filled with a bio agent of some kind that had its own heat source.”
One of the cops entered with the empty case they found in the shootout room.
“Could be a viral strain, one that needs to incubate right up to the point of release. Are we contained?”
“A few jars got shot up, some were smashed, and one was opened by a cop.” Brooke noted the stamp “24 count” on the side of the cardboard. “It looks like there were twenty-four of them.”
“Brooke, lockdown immediately! The risk of secondary contamination is too high.”
“I already ordered a secure perimeter. I have Bio-response on the way. Any idea what we could be dealing with here?”
“There’s no way to know for sure, but we were just war gaming an attack with HCD Complex 33. It’s a synthetic strain of influenza. We figured with the vaccine shortage we might be vulnerable.”
“So this could be nothing more than the flu?”
“A fast acting, potentially deadly form, but not if you catch it early. I’ll notify NIH. Make sure your bio guys know it might be viral.”
Brooke was writing as she repeated the name over the phone, “H… C… D… Com… Plex… 33, got it. I’ll alert them. Thanks.”
Bill dialed another number. “Judy, Bill. Sorry to bother you this late.”
Judy was in her den with CNN on in the background. The events in New York were starting to make the cable news. “Bill, I know all about it. I am the one who had DHS call you as soon as I got the call.”
“Is there any flu vaccine for Complex 33, if that’s what this is?”
“Vaccine is a preventative. Once the cardio-pulmonary is infected you have to treat it with intense medication, face masks and gloves, and lots of soap and water to wash hands with.”
“That at least sounds manageable.”
“Only if it’s C-33 and only if we catch it within the first hours. The chances of which, so far, seem good if all the first responders have been quarantined.”
“Some of the jars are still unaccounted for. Can you work up some numbers if a few of those get away?”
“I’ll get the epis working on it. Maybe it won’t get to that.”
“From your mouth….”
“Amen, Bill.” Then she called the chief of staff at the CDC’s National Center for Infectious Diseases to muster the epis of the Epidemiological Analysis Team and get them cracking on the impact report.
After Bill hung up, he mentally created a checklist to make sure he had done and was doing everything he could. Satisfied, he slouched back under the covers, pecked Janice on the cheek, and tried to sleep. But the singing was keeping him awake.
Singing?
“What are you doing?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re humming.”
“Am I?”
“Yes. You am.”
“Maybe I’m happy.”
Bill pondered this for a few seconds. “Okay, why?”
Janice rolled over and faced him. “You know the other morning when I got sick and you said to see a doctor?”
“Yeah.”
“Remember I said I didn’t know what got into me?”
“Yeah.”
“Well it was you. You got into me. And now…”
“Oh God, baby! Are you saying you’re…?”
“Um hmm. Yes, we are!”
“Whoa. So you’re happy?”
“Yes. Are you?”
“Yeah, yeah! I’m happy. Wow!”
“I know, wow.”
“How… when…”
“The how we covered. The when was probably two months ago.”
Bill beamed. “Wait till my folks find out.”
“My mom’s going to go nuts.”
Bill’s head was spinning. What a turnaround from just minutes ago. “Janice, I love you.
“Oh Billy, I love you so much.” They hugged tighter than Bill ever remembered and for longer than they ever seemed to hold each other before.
Chapter Six
Thanks to Bill’s SCIAD network, the images of the at-large terrorists were sharp and clear with no degradation. The Federal Face Recognition system got them swiftly. Private Eye Wallace’s excellent-quality surveillance camera and the lucky position of a good light source right outside the room made the 1/60-of-a-second field grabs, sharp enough even before processing to trigger seventeen face recognition ID match-ups from the nineteen Middle Eastern men who went through the door that night. Of the two faces that remained unknown, one was among the seven still at large. The other unknown face was one of the deceased. The seven photos were distributed to the TSA, all local authorities, the State Department, the Department of Homeland Security, DIA, FBI and the NSA. Many in those agencies were stunned at the high quality of the images, prodding more than one to ask if this was a drill because in the real world images never started, transmitted, or remained this clean.
Two more bioterrorists were captured at Logan airport the next day. Officials quarantined the terminal and everyone involved received prophylactic doses to inhibit HCD Complex 33. Luckily, the spread of the virus was severely curtailed since the two terrorists took a New York City taxi to Boston. It turned out that the cab driver was a member of the Atlantic Avenue Mosque community, a group that still had a hazy connection with Al Qaeda.
If the plan that was uncovered had been carried out in just the NFL towns, and the stadiums that the men were scheduled to visit, it could have meant twenty-five million deaths in the high-risk groups of elderly, those with heart conditions, and pregnant women. In total, the jihadist effort could have killed forty million Americans. It would have been the greatest public health emergency ever in the history of the world. At this point, the risk had been reduced dramatically, but the five remaining at-large terrorists posed a lethal risk to more than ten million people.
Armed with the picture of the four known men and the one unknown man, law enforcement officials swarmed into Muslim communities from coast to coast. There was a terrific outcry from all the usual sources. These cries of stereotyping and prejudice towards one specific cultural group was strangely not as loud among smart-thinking Muslims in those communities who realized that an infected bioterrorist hiding in their midst would infect Muslims and non-Muslims with non-stereotyping, non-discriminatory accuracy. Two known terrorists were found hiding in those communities. Because one of these proved to be infected, intense medical teams also swept into these Muslim communities curtailing their infectious breathing of Complex-33. Untold thousands of innocent Muslim-American men, women, and children were saved.
It was impressive; this was a prayer mat of the same weaver as his father had, all those many years ago. That alone was the sole comfort he now had at the Manhattan Correctional Facility. Unable to merge into the general population, his confinement couldn’t be deemed solitary because there was a constant stream of nurses, doctors, and psychiatrists, as well as guards. An imam came once a week — a prayer session attended by a translator and a member of the American security community. These visits were also recorded for later scrutiny. He was not allowed a lawyer because he was being “detained;” he had not been arrested.
Then she came to his room one day. His danger sense went immediately up. She was either a young girl from a college course doing research or a she-devil, sent to seduce him away from Allah and the cause.