Reprisal (33 page)

He roared up the ramp, swiped his access card over the exit machine, and came out into the bright sun of the afternoon. Heat and humid air surrounded the car. Paul rolled the windows down and swerved through the traffic.

At his house, Paul took only enough time to grab the olive drab Glock 21, the one that shot the big .45-caliber bullets.

Removing his suit jacket, he twisted into his shoulder holster and settled the gun under his arm. He picked up his vest, just in case, and raced up the stairs.

Back in the car, he lurched out of the driveway. He glanced at his watch. He calculated about thirty minutes to the mosque. What about the CDC people? he wondered. He called Dr. Kumar on his cell phone.

“They’ll set up things as fast as they can. I’ll help you work with them,” the doctor answered.

“When we get there, will they be able to start vaccinations?”

“Not immediately. Because the dosages of vaccine are limited, they’ll insist on an accurate diagnosis first. Depending on what they discover, we’ll react.”

Paul sat back in his seat. “Wait a minute. You mean when we get there, I can’t just seal-off the area and let them get to work?”

“You should set up the containment perimeter with the local police to help, but no, things won’t work that fast.”

“But don’t they understand that the release could be going on right now? That we’ve got to arrest Ammar, that the stuff could be spreading as we’re waiting for them?”

Paul could hear him sigh. “In this situation, they run the show and no one can tell them what to do.”

He barked into the phone as he pushed the car faster. “Well, how long does this diagnosis take? I hope they can do it on the spot. We may already be too late.”

“Uh … first, they’ll have to fly it by a military plane to Atlanta to be analyzed in their maximum containment laboratory.”

Forty

Joan Cortez had armed herself earlier and brought along the two agents she trusted the most. George Eppert and Teddy Vang sat with her in the unmarked Immigration and Customs Enforcement SUV as they raced south toward the mosque.

She didn’t have to ask if they were armed. Besides, the SUV had back-up weaponry if necessary. Extra pistols, two short-barreled shotguns, and a Taser rested in the back end.

They had all changed into lightweight Kevlar vests, covered by blue jackets with large yellow letters identifying their agency. Joan pulled her hair back and tucked it under a baseball cap. The vest hugged her chest and felt hot and tight.

“What’s the plan, Boss?” Teddy asked.

“Simple.” Joan glanced at him in the driver’s seat. Teddy was small but one of the toughest agents she’d ever worked with. “We ignore all this epidemic shit and go for the gold. We’re gonna be the ones to take down this guy, Ammar.”

“You can ID him?” Teddy asked.

“Close enough. I’ve got a description. He’s an Arab. Should be easy.”

Teddy frowned. “You sure about this … ? What if we get the wrong dude. You know how these Somali religious guys are. We’ll get sued and worse yet, get our faces on TV. The director won’t be happy.”

“I’m taking responsibility for the mission. If we get this guy, our future’s made. The rest of these idiots will be running around with test tubes while we save the country.” She rolled down her window to let warm afternoon air into the SUV. “Besides, the way the FBI treats us, I’d love to stick this up their ass.”

Teddy shrugged and swerved between open slots among the cars heading south on the interstate. He pushed the vehicle up to eighty.

George leaned forward from the back seat. “What happens when we get there?” He wasn’t the smartest agent she had, but Joan knew he was competent, loyal to her, and the best agent she could get for back-up.

“I’ve got the address for the mosque,” Joan said. “We cover all exits and force our way in. I figure we’ll trap the guy in there or at least, be ready when he shows. If necessary, we’ll rescue the kids and still make the grab.”

“Expect any problems from the local Somalis in the mosque?”

“Who knows?” Joan turned to face George. “Speed is our best weapon. Make the grab, secure him, get him in the vehicle, and get the hell out of there before they know what’s happened.”

George grunted and sat back. “So we need the shotguns.”

“Right. Both of ’em.”

In ten minutes, Teddy arrived at the area of the mosque in Burnsville. As they cruised the adjacent streets, it was obvious they’d beaten everyone else.

A long, low row of attached offices stretched along the road to their right. One story, flat roofed, with a single door in the front of each office unit. Teddy slowed to turn around the backside of the building. A large parking lot butted up to the loading docks on the backside. Each office had two rear entrances—the loading dock and a regular door. The loading dock door rested in a closed position.

“George, you’ll take down the front,” Joan ordered. “Take one of the shotguns.”

Teddy circled around to the front of the building again.

“Teddy and I will take the back side. Keep your radio channel open. On my word, we’ll storm the doors. The guy’s name is Ammar. He’s about six feet, dark skin, shiny black hair, no beard, good-looking dude. Maybe they’ll give him up right away, but be prepared for anything. These people are crazy. Once we make the grab, we’ll get him out the back to avoid attention.”

After they dropped off George, Teddy parked near the back door with the front of the SUV facing the exit. They got out and left the doors cracked open. Teddy took the other shotgun, and Joan grabbed the Taser, which she hooked onto her waist belt. She removed the Smith and Wesson pistol from the holster that rode over her back right hip.

They walked quickly to the back doors.

Joan talked softly, “We’ll both go in here. If we hear the loading door start to open, you cover it. I’ll go straight ahead.” Teddy nodded and stood to the left of her. Both of them flattened on either side of the regular door with their weapons up. The Kevlar vest dug into her armpits and hurt. After all the cop shows on TV, Joan felt a little stupid, but this was proper training.

She spoke into the radio clipped to her shoulder. “George… Go!”

She and Teddy folded into the door, which was unlocked. Inside, they spread immediately and raised their weapons, announced themselves, and demanded Ammar.

The room they entered was small but opened to a long hallway. Coming in from the summer warmth, it felt cool. Ahead of them, a lone man in brown robes bolted down the hall. They ordered him to stop, but he kept moving.

Joan and Teddy hurried after him. To the right and left of the hallway, sat several rooms. They cleared each one before moving on. In the front, they could hear George doing his work.

As they approached the end of the hallway, it opened to a large room covered in Persian rugs, which Joan assumed was the worship area. Several older, bearded men stood in a semi-circle in front of George with their hands in the air.

Joan approached and studied them carefully. They looked scared, and all of them stared at the ground. Excitement surged through her body like a wave of heat coming up from a hot sidewalk. She loved this part. To have people like this cower before her, to obey her. The power and anticipation of success intoxicated her.

“Everyone take it easy. All we want is Ammar. Where is he?” she shouted.

No one responded.

Joan holstered her pistol, pulled the Taser off her belt, and walked to the guy who seemed to be the leader. “You in charge?”

When he nodded, he flicked his eyes up to hers for a moment. Instead of fear, she saw hate and anger. That would make her job easier.

Joan held up the Taser. “I’m only asking once more, old man. Where the fuck is he?”

The man’s mouth moved without opening. Finally, he said, “Are you looking for Dr. Kamal? He is not here.”

“Kamal … ? Whatever. Where the fuck is he?”

“He was supposed to be here, but he is not here yet,” the man said. Saliva dribbled from the corner of his mouth over his gray beard.

Joan turned to Teddy. “Search the place.”

In five minutes, he returned with a group of young boys. They straggled in front of him until they reached the bigger group. Joan smiled and dropped her Taser to the side. “All right, relax,” she said. “Now we’re making progress.” Both other agents lowered their weapons and the circle of clerics put their hands down also.

“When’s he coming?” Joan demanded.

The old man opened his hands, palms out, toward her. “I do not know. We are waiting for him. What is this about?”

“You know damn well what we mean,” shouted George. “The smallpox epidemic. Some new ‘gee-had’ of yours.”

Frowns creased the faces of several of the men. They looked at each other. “Smallpox?” one asked.

“That’s enough!” Joan ordered. “We’ll just wait for your friend with you. No one will leave until Ammar gets here. Let’s be cool here, guys. All we want is Ammar. No trouble. We’ll take him out for questioning and leave you alone,” she lied.

When she saw their eyes darting amongst themselves, she moved closer to Teddy and George. To be safe, Joan ordered a search of each one for weapons. Then, she’d isolate them in one of the small rooms.

After the search had been completed, they moved the group, including the boys, down the hall to the first room on the right. It took a long time for each one to file through the narrow entrance. As she was about to walk away to guard the outer doors while waiting for Ammar, Joan noticed one of the men in the back talking fast on his cell phone.

Alerting Teddy, she stormed through the crowd, pushed people aside, and grabbed the man by the arm with the phone. With her other hand, she slammed the end of her Taser into his face. He dropped the cell and screamed in pain. His lower lip cracked open. Blood spurted out.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she said.

With Teddy holding the shotgun on the man, Joan reached down to pick up the phone. He had managed to click it off but she keyed into it and went to the menu for recent calls.

Her breath stopped when she saw the man had called Channel Six TV news.

Forty-One

From her balcony, Zehra saw his Mercedes pull into the parking lot far below. Up where she was, the hot breeze blew in from the west. It carried the metallic smell of new rain. She hurried back through the condo.

She wore jeans, tight but not too much. Although he was conservative, Mustafa was still a man. Something had to awaken him. She studied her makeup in the mirror and pulled at her thick hair. The humidity didn’t help. Curls threatened to burst out all over her head. Satisfied she couldn’t get it any better, she draped the scarf he’d given her around her neck and switched off the light.

Mustafa was at the entry downstairs.

Zehra buzzed him in and arranged some tea cups. The water bubbled and popped softly.

Like the air pushed aside by a speeding semi truck, he entered the condo behind a burst of energy. “Hello. You look beautiful. Are you ready?” he chattered.

“Well … yeah, but don’t you want some tea or pop? I’ve got a Diet Coke.” She tried to tempt him.

He squinted. “Uh … no thanks. We do not have much time.” He touched her briefly and from far away.

“What’s wrong?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I have worked with these students on their projects for so long. I want everything to go well.”

“Relax. I’m looking forward to meeting them.” She paused and pulled on his arm to slow him down. “Are you missing something?”

He stopped, turned, and looked her up and down. Finally, he said, “Oh, the scarf! Thank you for wearing it. It is very beautiful on you. It complements the color of your skin.”

Zehra felt a hot blush flash quickly across her face. “Well, if you don’t have time for anything, I guess we should go, huh?”

They hurried across the hall to the elevator. Waiting for it made her nervous. She’d never seen Mustafa so agitated. Usually, he was in complete control of everything. He prided himself on his scientific approach to things—too much, Zehra thought, when it came to relationships. Those kinds of things weren’t meant to be controlled. How many times had she wished he would go “out of control” with her?

The FBI agent met them in the lobby. He would follow them in his car.

In the Benz, she sank back into the soft butter-colored leather seat and felt the cool wisp of air from the vents. Mustafa drove erratically and fast.

“Hey, slow down. I know this means a lot to you, but the traffic is still the tail-end of the rush hour.” Zehra looked over at him. His eyes bored straight ahead and his nostrils flared a little. She became concerned. “Don’t drive so fast. I want to enjoy the night.”

He jerked toward her. “Sorry. You are right.” He eased off on the speed and leaned back into the leather. “I have been so busy. It is nice to see you again. You make me feel calm and good.”

She pushed her question toward him carefully, “Is it because I’m not wearing the scarf over my head? Is that upsetting you?”