“It’s been thoroughly checked by the NSA. It’s real,” confirmed the Director of National Intelligence, removing any remaining hope that it was all a mistake.
A knock on the door preceded the entrance of a biohazard-suited team who made their way towards the President.
“Madame President,” the DNI turned to face the acting President, “would you please follow these gentlemen?”
“Why?” President Lopez asked as calmly as she could.
“You’re going to be placed in a secure room while we ascertain whether or not the virus has been released. You may still be free from it and we do not want you to catch it while the checks are ongoing.”
Acting President Lopez was about to discover that, when it came to her wellbeing, she was not in charge of her own destiny. The freshly drafted in and safely suited Secret Service agents placed a mask over her head and removed her from the potentially hazardous environment. A small office at the back of the Emergency Operations Center was awaiting her arrival. Airtight seals and a fresh smell of bleach welcomed her to her new home for the foreseeable future.
After the President left the room, the DNI turned to the FBI Deputy Director.
“Mr. Turner, I’m sure I don’t need to say it but whatever you need from the intelligence community is at your disposal. This man Geller has to be tracked down and brought to justice. If anyone gets in your way call me, 24/7,” he commanded before leaving the room with his entourage.
The message was as much for Turner as it was for the roomful of senior members of the intelligence community. The FBI was the lead and everyone was to jump to its tune.
Turner looked around the room at the team he had been given for the task. Some of them he recognized, others he had heard of, and others he had no idea who they were or which clandestine or secretive part of the community they worked for.
Before he had a chance to address them, the door opened and another biohazard-suited person entered the room. However, this time, the person took an empty seat and sat down.
“I’m Colonel Valerie Barnes, I’ve been seconded to this team,” she announced to the group through her glazed mask.
“On whose orders?’ asked DD Turner.
“The Secretary of Defense and the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs.”
Turner nodded his approval of two people he would allow to trump him.
“I head up the USAMRIID unit at Fort Detrick,” Colonel Barnes said.
Blank faces stared back at her.
After explaining what that meant, Colonel Barnes became the most popular person in the room. everyone clamored for information on what the disease was and the likelihood of their catching it.
With no confirmation that anyone was in fact infected, Colonel Barnes played down the impact of the disease as much as possible. The reality would come soon enough. However, even the sugar-coated version was enough to scare the life out of her captive audience.
Chapter 7
Nick removed the DVD from the player, replaced it carefully in its holder and returned to his seat. The prince stared at him throughout, his eyes transfixed on the man who had martyred his tutor.
“Can you tell me the plan?” asked the prince, struggling to hide the awe in his voice.
Nick closed his eyes. “No. The Caliph was explicit. Nobody should be made aware of the plan, only what is required of them. That way, even if we have a traitor in our midst, they will not be able to stop us. Even the scale, which I assure you will honor our dead Caliph, will remain a tightly guarded secret.”
Nick sensed the prince’s disappointment. He opened his eyes and stared deep into the prince’s eyes. “But what I can tell you is that what we have planned will destroy the western world and lead to the birth of the one true global Caliphate.” He smiled conspiratorially.
“So where can I take you?” asked the prince, wiping tears of admiration from his eyes and breaking into a smile.
Nick pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and handed it to the prince. “This is all I need of you just now but rest assured, My Prince, you have a very important role to play but your day has yet to come. The Caliph was explicit as to how vital your part in his plans would be.”
The prince took the paper in his hands and saw two numbers. One he recognized as a bank account number. A Swiss bank that he himself had an account with. The other number was a sum of money, $250,000,000.00, one quarter of a billion dollars. The prince nodded as though this were small change. “It will be there tomorrow,” he said, without a second thought or question as to how the monies were to be used.
Nick nodded and once again closed his eyes. He had a few hours to kill during the transatlantic crossing. After that, sleep was going to be hard to come by. With the devastation he had left behind in Washington, there would not be a stone left unturned in the hunt for him. He knew the American and Western agencies inside out. He knew how effective they could be and how personally they would take the attack on the President and the White House. They were not to be underestimated but, more importantly, he knew their weaknesses.
The plan was a complex one but at its core it was stunningly simple. He had no illusion that it would be easy, nor that he would definitely succeed. Many obstacles lay before him. Tracking down and uniting the leaders of the world’s Islamic terrorist groups to launch a holy war on the United States was not going to be a walk in the park. The Caliph had laid down the groundwork. His initial conversations with his counterparts across the Arab world had set Nick in motion and only through the Caliph’s death could the plan ever hope to succeed. His sacrifice would unite jihadists like never before. Nick had one chance to strike a blow that would make the western world finally realize its days were numbered.
Uniting the cause was key. Al Qaeda, although a thorn in the US’s side, was not capable on its own of defeating the might of the US forces and capabilities. A jihadist force, combining the Islamist factions and groups to unite as one, with a common goal and leader, was the Caliph’s vision, a vision that he had tasked Nick with delivering.
With sleep pulling at him, Nick began to relax for the first time that day. As his mind and body began to de-stress, regret suddenly surfaced. Despite all the planning and preparation, one problem had emerged. Aisha Franks. Frankie. She had never been part of the plan. Their relationship had exploded from nothing, a mutual attraction that had just blossomed into something far more. He knew his plans would mean it could never be but he’d never verbalized that out loud, caught in the moment, caught in the closeness of a real relationship, a relationship he had never before experienced. They clicked. In another life, they’d have been perfect, destined to be together. Nick thought back to the hug and peck on the lips, as Frankie had run out that morning, the coffee he had prepared for her in one hand and a wicked smile etched across her face. She’d promised him a surprise that night that would trump the day he met the President, as she had closed the car door.
Nick hadn’t had a chance to think about those words until that moment. The moment the car door had closed behind her, he had raced to get ready for the biggest day of his life. What would become of his beautiful Frankie? She’d be labeled a suspect, a potential collaborator. Her career would be over. That was a given. Who would trust her to protect them after her boyfriend had shot the President? He fell asleep, saddened by the loss of his first true love.
It was his only regret.
Chapter 8
“Let’s calm down people, we have work to do!” Turner shouted over the din. “While we wait for the results, we’ll assume we’re all clear. Let’s worry about things we can do something about.”