BioKill

by Handley, Stuart

  Taking a quick, suspicious glance over the car park, where the buyers’ cars, pick-ups and small trucks were clustered at one end and the large stock trucks at the other, he made his way over to the livestock pavilion.

  The sound of the auctioneer with his ultra-quick banter was like a cash register to Big Bill. He loved the sound and the atmosphere of dozens of prospective buyers drooling over the animals paraded before them. He couldn’t believe it had been over forty years — goddamn, I love this place.

  “Hey Jimmy, quick word in private.”

  The head auctioneer followed his boss to where no one would overhear them.

  “Jimmy, I just got this email from the police, telling us to look out for lowlifes around the yards.”

  “I’ve seen some kids playing behind the yards over there… but that’s all.”

  “These won’t be kids, Jimmy, more like dirty old men after our juicy young heifers.”

  “You’re kidding me… right?”

  Big Bill shook his head.

  “Got to be damn near thirty years ago since we had one of those perverts around here! I’ll tell the boys to keep en eye out, boss.”

  “Thanks. How’s the sale going?”

  “Just got the in-calf cows to go, there’s been good demand for the in-milk cows and some of the heifers went for more than expected. A load of buyers and agents here from interstate.”

  “Not surprised. Mr. Mason, God rest his soul, was a damn fine farmer and stockman. Real shame his demise, real shame. Anyways, Jimmy, appreciate it if you let the boys know straight away. Any sign, they get back to me.”

  *

  Yusuf and Bashir had been silent for the remainder of the hour it took them to reach their destination. They had rightly concluded their comrade-in-arms wasn’t the talkative type — an intensity hung over him, like a veil of invisibility.

  The Ford Explorer crunched gravel as it slowly drove into Mainway’s Auctioneers’ car park. Bomani cut the engine and looked around the complex with cold calculation. Yusuf’s leg started to twitch, the muscle spasms catching the driver’s eye. “Calm yourself… now.”

  Yusuf grabbed his thigh, closed his eyes and prayed that Allah would look after him.

  Bomani was the ultimate in self-discipline, his voice calm. “Take only two cans and go to that area over there.” He pointed through the other parked vehicles to the outside holding yards where large numbers of black and white cattle could be seen. “I cannot see people there, that is good. Both of you go now with the blessing of our brothers and do Allah’s work. Force the American cows to breathe the virus. Do not get caught… this is only the first of our targets, we have much more work to do.” Bomani then gave his final signal to proceed. “Allahu akbar.”

  Only Bashir had the composure to respond. Yusuf was far too frightened.

  “Quickly,” Bashir said. “We mustn’t attract attention.”

  Yusuf felt as if his legs were made of heavy stone as he lagged behind. “Bashir, I feel like there’s a dagger in my back and death in front of me! I’m scared.”

  Bashir slowed down and waited for Yusuf to catch up, then placed a hand on his shoulder. He looked back to the car, where Bomani was watching. “The dagger is only our friend’s eyes and to our front is our destiny. You’ve got nothing to be afraid of — remember when we were back in Afghanistan at training camp? We faced greater dangers there, we had bullets fired over our heads to make us men.”

  “But this guy gives me the creeps… I don’t trust him.”

  “You don’t have to like him… and our trust is with Allah. Look, there are the cows. Just ahead.”

  By now the cattle yards were close, the smells stronger and stronger the closer they came. The city dwellers were unaccustomed to the distinctive aroma.

  “It smells like shit!”

  “Exactly, Yusuf, exactly.”

  The two laughed, which made Yusuf feel better.

  “Wait.” Bashir pulled up suddenly.

  “What is it, have we been seen?”

  Bashir hesitated; he had seen two men further over in the cattle yards, herding cows out to pens from the adjoining large pavilion. “No, I don’t think so. This way.”

  Taking the lead Bashir veered away and approached the yards from an angle. The yards were made of wooden railings. Between the railings, the two could see the large beasts milling around on concrete pads. The odd cow watched as the two humans approached, some were chewing their cud while standing, some were laying down, resting.

  “We’re too far from them — we can’t reach them through the rails.”

  “I know — but we have to spray directly into their noses. We’ll have to get in with them.”

  “I’ve never been this close to cows before,” said Yusuf. “What if some of them are bulls?”

  “Then we really will be in the shit.”

  “You are such a big help. You go first.”

  Bashir looked cautiously around for any sign of someone looking. As far as he could tell no one was. “Here, hold this while I get over.” He handed his friend the spray can then cautiously stepped up on the first rail. His heart pounded in his chest. The cattle showed some anxiety as he drew himself up, leapt quickly over the rail, then crouched down in the yard. His feet squashed into animal dung. Reaching through the rails, while keeping a close eye on the cattle not six feet from him, Bashir grabbed for the two cans. A cow gave a loud cough. Startled, Bashir turned quickly and the cans caught between the rails. One hit the concrete floor of the yard, clinking before coming to rest in the muck, the other tumbled backwards to the gravel next to Yusuf.

  “Fuck!” Backed hard up against the rail, it was Bashir’s turn to feel vulnerable. Slowly he regained his composure as he realized the cows weren’t going to attack him. The animals themselves were uneasy, sensing fear in the human. Most of those that were sitting rose to their feet, and the cattle all looked towards the two men. Bashir forced himself to look away for the dropped cans — there — he saw one lying in the yard.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Of course I am!”

  “Do you see the other can?”

  “Yes.” Bashir crouched down and felt for the can in the yard. Not a good idea. The cows looked even bigger from closer to the ground. A couple of the more inquisitive ones inched forward, their heads low, snorting intermittently. Blindly Bashir reached out for the dropped can, his hand making a small bow wave as it pushed through a slurry of excrement. Clutching the virus-filled can he slowly stood up and grimaced at the shit-covered surface. He would never make a cattleman.

  Yusuf watched from relative safety on the other side of the rails as Bashir pulled off the plastic lid and walked cautiously forward. “Nice cows, nice cows.” His feet squelched, and he realized his running shoes probably weren’t the most appropriate footwear for a cattle yard. He hoped he would have time later to clean them before getting back into the Ford. Some of the cattle moved to one side as he approached, others remained still. One in particular with long eyelashes had a kinder face — that would be his first victim. The targeted cow flicked her ears. The human was very close, she reached out towards him, stretching her long neck, her tongue pushing forward trying to reach him. The cow belched, sending a foul breath of methane gas towards him and he had his first whiff of the gaseous contents of one of a cow’s four stomachs. Bashir extended his arm, his hand holding the can, his finger on the spray nozzle. The moment was close — the first transmission of foot-and-mouth disease in America since 1929 — it would take only one infected animal to be diagnosed and the country’s economic growth would be affected. The friendly cow with the long eyebrows opened her mouth inches from the can and thrust her large tongue forward again. Bashir pressed the nozzle.

  “Have you done it?” hissed Yusuf.

  Bashir again pressed the nozzle down. He retracted his arm and looked at the can, then violently shaking it, causing some of the wetter cow manure to fly off. He tried again. “It’s not working…
it won’t spray. The solution won’t come out.”

  “Here, come and get my can!” Yusuf called out from the other side of the wooden rails.

  Two of Mainway’s employees were bringing a pen of sold cattle from the pavilion back to the holding yards. One looked up at the sound. “Hey, you hear that?”

  “Someone over by the far pen?” replied the other man.

  “Yeah, I reckon. You go ahead and pen these heifers, I’m going to go have a look.”

  “If you catch any dirty bastard with his pants down, use your stick and whack his pecker off.”

  “Yeah!” The first man climbed up on the railings next to him for a better look. Scanning over the backs of the cattle in the individual pens, his expert eye noticed one group facing in one direction, their attention focused on something in particular. Grabbing a hand rail above he pulled himself up onto the narrow plank walkway running the length of the outside cattle yards. He noticed two men, one in the yard itself. You dirty perverts, he thought. “Danny,” he yelled down to his workmate. “Go get help, there’s two of them and one’s in the yard. “HEY YOU! What the fuck d’you think you’re doing with them cows?”

  Yusuf was handing over the second can when a loud voice barked out, obviously directed at them. Both men froze; they knew they’d been caught. Yusuf was the first to run, his flight spurring Bashir, who leapt up the wooden rails, sending muck flying in all directions before jumping to the ground and hurtling after Yusuf. They ran as they had never run before, bouncing off parked cars, gravel spraying up from their feet, towards the only place of safety they knew, the Ford Explorer.

  Bomani watched as the boys ran towards him. In his chaotic flight to the Ford, Yusuf tripped tumbling head first, the palms of his hands taking the brunt of the landing on the gravel parking lot. Without wasting an iota of time he regained his feet and continued the remaining few yards to the vehicle. He yanked open the door and flung himself into the rear seat. Bashir was close behind. Bomani gunned the Ford, sending dust and gravel into nearby vehicles.

  “Did you do it? Did you carry out the mission?” Bomani yelled as he spun the steering wheel. “Speak to me!”

  Panting with adrenalin-inspired exhaustion and trying to retain his seat in the fast turning vehicle, Bashir told him the can had failed to spray and they had been discovered. He cringed, anticipating the reaction. There was an ominous silence.

  The Ford shuddered as it left the gravel and over the guttering onto the seal road. Bomani put his contingency plan into effect, following the directions from the GPS unit on the dashboard. He didn’t speak to his traveling companions, his face expressionless. The coldness and continued silence made the two young men uneasy. Bashir glanced towards Yusuf, who had tucked himself up in a ball. Hugging his legs and leaning against the door, he gazed into the distance.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The report was marked urgent. It was handed to Director Hall who placed his glasses on and read the information sent from the Police Commissioner of New Jersey. The news was bittersweet. Removing his glasses he rubbed his forehead, pressing his thumb hard into the spot between his eyes as if he had a powerful migraine, which at that moment he didn’t. Not yet. Hall dialed the number on the report for Mainway’s Auctioneers.

  “Mainway’s Auctioneers, Josie speaking, how may I help you?”

  “Josie, my name is Allan Hall, Homeland Security. I believe your employer is a Mr. Bill Lomas. May I speak to him please, this is an urgent matter.”

  “I’ll just have someone page him for you, one moment please.” Josie laid the phone down on her desk. For a few seconds she stared at it, trying to fathom out if the call was legitimate or not. Homeland Security phoning here! Josie knew Big Bill had called the number on the email he received about suspicious behavior so she wouldn’t have been surprised to see or hear from the local police. But Homeland Security! Josie stood up and walked to the door, where she leaned on the frame and looked around for Big Bill.

  On the other end of the line a loud thudding came through the receiver. Director Hall heard the phone laid down on presumably a desk, then a screech of a chair on what sounded like wooden floorboards. “Bill, over here, you’re wanted on the phone.”

  That’ll be their paging service, he surmised.

  “Tell ’em I’m busy and take a number,” yelled Big Bill.

  “Think you ought to take it, Bill, the guy said he was from Homeland Security.”

  “Homeland… what the… I better take this, boys,” Bill said to a couple of the auction staff.

  Big Bill stepped into the office and whispered to Josie, “You sure? Homeland Security, not Inox police?

  “That’s what he said,” Josie whispered back.

  Clearing his throat, Big Bill picked up the phone. “Howdy, Bill Lomas, what can I do for you?”

  “Bill, my name is Director Allan Hall, I understand you had a bit of a skirmish a short while ago. Tell me what happened.”

  “Yessir, of course.” Big Bill reached for a chair; he needed to sit down for this. “Well, two of my boys caught this cow botherer in one of the yards out back.”

  “Cow botherer?”

  “Yeah, you know, one of those people who… well, just like the email said, we were to look out for suspicious behavior and some Arab blokes in our yards with our cows just didn’t seem right, if you know what I mean.”

  “Arab men?”

  “Yep, that’s what the boys said, there were two Arab-looking men and a getaway driver. What the hell is going on… I mean maybe once in a blue moon you might get a cow botherer, but two together…”

  “Mr. Lomas, were they seen doing anything and I don’t mean screwing cows, were they doing anything else?”

  “Well, they didn’t actually see anything. All the Arab in the yard had time for was trying to reach out and touch the cattle.”

  “Anything in the man’s hands?”

  “Boys didn’t say. I can go ask them if you like?”

  “Later. What about the car they drove, did you get a description?”

  “Sure did, it was a green Ford Explorer, older model. Didn’t get the plates though.”

  “Now think hard, Mr. Lomas, anything else your boys noticed? No matter how small.”

  “Well now… when you say small… There was something — a couple of spray cans. They were definitely outta place, you know — so we figured they must have been dropped when Joe and Danny spooked ’em.”

  Hall shut his eyes, this time he could actually feel a pain in his head coming on. Spray cans. It sounded as if it was already too late and the infection had been released. “Describe the cans.”

  “The boys told me they just chucked ’em in the bin. Deodorant — which is a joke — they were covered in muck and stunk something awful.”

  “Mr. Lomas, this is very important. I need you to do exactly as I say. Lock down the auction now. Not a single animal leaves, not… a… single… animal. Do it right now, tell the lady with you to give those instructions to your employees. You remain on the phone.”

  Josie couldn’t hear the conversation but she saw her boss drop his jaw, his mouth remained open as he swung around. She listened as Big Bill told her where to go and what to do. He clicked a finger and sent an index finger pointing towards the door. Do it NOW.

  “OK sir, I… I have someone doing that.”

  “Good, now this is what else you have to do…”

  When Bill Lomas finally did get off the phone he understood exactly what he had to do and how to do it. He’d been told the local police would be the first on the scene, followed by Homeland Security. He was cautioned to remain tight-lipped about any suspicions he might have regarding what this was all about, as even the police didn’t know. He gave his word.

  Chapter Nineteen

  174th Fighter Wing, Hancock Field Ground Control Station, Syracuse, was approximately one hundred and fifty miles north-northwest of Albany.

  “You are cleared for take-off.”

  “Rog
er, tower.”

  The pilot increased ground speed before easing back the joystick. Once off the ground he sat more comfortably in his leather armchair. “This mission is a bit different, makes a change from going to Afghanistan. Deborah wants me to go out tonight to her parents’ place.”

  “So, you’d be looking forward to that then?” the Sensor Operator said, sipping his cappuccino.

  “I’ve been out twice this week already, once to a damn ballet and then one of the kids had a birthday party to go to. How are the computer diagnostics reading?”

  “Reading AOK. Optics looking good, cloud cover minimal. It’s a beautiful day out there.”

  The MQ-9 Reaper drone maneuvered around and headed for Inox. At a cruising speed of around two hundred and thirty miles per hour, the unmanned aircraft’s destination was less than one hour away.

  “A green Ford Explorer. The call came from Homeland — it must be one hell of a high priority for us to be called in.”

  *

  Directors Hall and Lopez studied the large map on the wall. Lopez drew an imaginary circle around Inox. “New Jersey state and local police are placing road blocks on all major roads within this area. They’re also targeting all other known livestock auction centers, as well as slaughterhouses, within a hundred-mile radius of Inox.”

  “Good,” said Hall. “I’ve sent a chopper with a biohazard expert to Inox to neutralize the two discarded cans and take them directly to Plum Island for diagnostics. Inox police have placed a non-movement order on the remaining livestock at the auction yards, while Plum is sending out a team to see if we have an outbreak of the virus, and organize any necessary countermeasures if we do. One small consolation is that the owner of the auction business says there were no cattle transported after they had the run-in with our Arabs, as he calls them.”

  “At least that’s a small mercy.” Lopez sounded pleased. “Any more news on the terrorist cell?”

  “Nothing. Lilburn and his team are on their way to Inox by chopper and the drone should be searching for the cell any moment now.”