“We know that call was never made, so we assume the events that took place happened within minutes of her entering her room. We also know that Dr. Arnaut had gone to the communications tent and was told of a missed call from Dr. Henderson’s husband. He said he would give her the message, and we believe he then went to her quarters to deliver said message.” He hesitated. “I must warn you, the next photos are graphic. I suggest you look away, Mrs. Henderson.”
She squared her jaw and shook her head. “No, I’ll be fine.”
He nodded. “Very well.” He clicked the button and a picture of the crime scene was shown, copious amounts of blood on the floor, arterial spray on the walls.
“Oh my God!”
She shouldn’t be here. Neither should her husband.
“I apologize for the graphic images, but they’re important.” He clicked the button again and a close up of a wall was shown. “These images were taken by MSF staff under FBI direction. You can see there is a void in the spray pattern. We believe that Dr. Henderson was standing between the wall and Dr. Arnaut when the fatal blow was struck. A preliminary autopsy by MSF staff indicates he was stabbed from behind by a large blade, probably a machete, then nearly beheaded several minutes later. We believe he was waiting in Dr. Henderson’s quarters to deliver the message, she entered, then the assailants arrived. They stabbed Dr. Arnaut, beheaded him, then took Dr. Henderson.” He clicked again, a shot of the floor with bloody shoe prints shown. “We believe that they began to leave when Dr. Danko arrived. You can see from the shoeprints that someone headed for the door, the other two sets, one of which is Dr. Henderson’s, are standing facing the door. We believe that Dr. Danko was abducted at this point.”
“So there were only two assailants?”
It was a voice over the speaker, a voice he recognized as the Delta Force operator he had met before during the New Orleans crisis.
“As far as we can tell. There was so much blood on the floor in Dr. Henderson’s room that it was impossible to not get it on the soles of their shoes, and there are only three sets of shoeprints visible. That doesn’t mean however that there weren’t more outside helping them, however we have this.” He clicked again and an image outside was shown of muddy prints outside a window. “We believe they exited through this window.” He clicked again for a close up of the prints. “We’ve found four distinct sets here, two smaller, suggesting the female doctors, two larger, suggesting the two assailants. They were the only prints around that window, and the entire area was quite muddy so it is felt there were just the two at this point.”
“Have you been able to trace them?” asked Vice President Henderson.
“There’s no camera footage in the area, but we did intercept some reports of three military transport trucks being stolen earlier in the day that were used to load medical supplies from the port.” He clicked the button. “We were able to retrieve these satellite images.” A shot of three trucks parked side by side appeared, a large cargo vessel at the edge of the shot. “We believe these are the trucks.”
“What did they take?” asked a Homeland Security representative.
“Medical supplies.”
“Can you be more specific?”
“Not at this time, we’re trying to put together an exact list, however the three trucks were fully loaded when they left with supplies meant for one of the Ebola treatment centers.”
“How are the two events connected?” asked the Delta operator.
“We weren’t certain until a few minutes ago. We intercepted a report that three trucks passed through a checkpoint only hours after the abduction with two female doctors showing their IDs indicating they were transporting supplies to Port Loko Ebola Treatment Center.”
“Why didn’t they stop them!” cried Mrs. Henderson. “They could have saved them yesterday!”
“Nobody knew, ma’am,” replied Leroux. “The body wasn’t found for another hour and then word didn’t reach us for several more. By the time it was realized they were missing, these trucks were well out of the city.”
“Do we know where they went?”
“No, unfortunately we don’t have anything on that yet, but we just received this report. We’re hoping to get more satellite images before our team arrives in Freetown.”
“Has there been any demands yet?” asked Vice President Henderson.
“None as of yet,” replied Morrison. “There hasn’t been any chatter either. Right now our only theory is that they wanted two doctors and medical supplies.”
Mrs. Henderson leaned forward. “But why?”
“We’re assuming there’s an Ebola outbreak somewhere and they wanted doctors and supplies to help them.”
“But this is Sierra Leone right?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And the Vice President of Sierra Leone was assassinated yesterday in Washington, wasn’t he?”
Uh oh.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Don’t you think it’s a little bit of a stretch to think this is a coincidence?”
“At this moment we have no evidence to connect the two events.”
“But if their Vice President was killed on our soil, isn’t it within the realm of possibility that they kidnapped our daughter for revenge?”
“We don’t believe so, ma’am.”
“But how can you be certain?”
“Because this plan seemed to have been well orchestrated. A group was put together, trucks were stolen, supplies were stolen, the doctors were abducted, and a definite exit strategy executed. This plan began only a few hours after the assassination. There’s no way they could have put together something so quickly as revenge.”
“Oh.”
The wind seemed to have been taken out of her sails, and Leroux was happy she wasn’t pressing it. It was his belief that the two events were indeed connected, and it was all part of the same plan. What that plan was, he had no idea, but he didn’t believe in coincidences. He had little doubt the events were related, he just needed more intel to prove it.
“Do we have any leads on who’s behind this?” asked the Vice President.
Leroux clicked the mouse button and a digitally enhanced photo of a man appeared, looking up at the sky as he stepped out of one of the transport trucks.
“We believe this man was in charge of the operation with the supply trucks.”
“Do we know who he is?”
“Just a name. Major Adofo Koroma. He’s in the Republic of Sierra Leone Armed Forces. That’s all we know for now but this piece of intel is new.”
Henderson pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. “I’ve got a son-in-law stuck in Los Angeles, taking care of my grandson, who’s expecting answers from me. What am I going to tell him?”
“Tell him we’re going to find out everything we can on Major Koroma, locate him, and rescue the hostages.”
“How?” asked Mrs. Henderson.
Director Morrison leaned forward. “Mr. Leroux and his team are the best. They’ll find him.”
The Delta operator’s voice came through the speaker. “And sir, once they tell us where he is, we’ll do everything we can to get your daughter back.”
“Please bring our baby home,” cried Mrs. Henderson, suddenly bursting into tears. Her husband wrapped his arm around her shoulders and helped her up, leading the distraught woman out of the room.
“Okay, Mrs. Henderson is out of the room. Classified data can now be discussed,” said Morrison. “What’s the latest on the Norfolk hostage takers?”
“You’re going to like this,” said the Homeland Security rep, leaning forward. “They’re all American citizens, all originally from Sierra Leone, some having lived here as long as twenty years. And get this.”
“What?”
“They were all born within fifty miles of each other.”
Somewhere in Sierra Leone
“Tell her she has to come with us.”
Mustapha translated, though from the fear on the young woman’s face,
Sarah was certain she understood every word being said. The girl shook her head, violently, closing her eyes as if to shut out the very existence of the intruders into her home.
With their makeshift clinic set up they had begun house by house searches, looking for the hidden sick. It was the greatest way the disease was being spread. The stigma of Ebola in West Africa was so great that families would rather hide away their infected loved ones than admit someone in their household was sick.
And if they should die?
Secret burials were now common.
Which usually meant in improper burial.
Tradition had relatives washing and dressing the bodies which meant exposure to the pathogen and probable infection. The law in the outbreak countries now required all bodies of infected individuals to be collected and buried by qualified personnel wearing personal protective equipment.
And the mother this young girl was protecting from the outside world was definitely sick, but appeared to be in the early stages.
Which meant they couldn’t be sure she had Ebola.
The initial symptoms were flu-like, and it was flu season, which was the very purpose of the first zone in their quarantine area. To isolate the possibly ill until their blood tests came back either negative or positive.
Sarah realized she must look terrifying to the poor girl, perhaps fifteen. Sarah was dressed head to toe in gear to protect herself from becoming infected, to take care of the sick, but it also was a barrier to humanity. But there was no choice, the risk simply too great.
“Listen, we aren’t sure she has it yet. If she comes with us, we might be able to save her.”
The girl opened her eyes, wide. “You save her?”
“I’ll try.”
She stepped back and nodded furiously. “You take, you take my mama. You save her.”
Sarah stepped to the bed and helped the equally terrified woman to her feet. She clearly was having some difficulty, but at this stage seemed more tired and weak than anything else. Sarah hoped the poor woman only had the flu, but with the severity of the outbreak in this small village, she feared the worst.
The walk to the community center was short, it only a few hundred feet from the home. Tanya was working another part of the town, it decided they should split up. Sarah had asked that Koroma go with Tanya, to protect her just in case one of the men got any ideas. She was working with Mustapha who appeared to be an officer and very close to Koroma.
It confused her.
Most of the men seemed to be professional soldiers, well behaved so far with the exception of the driver. Yes they had murdered Jacques, but if what they were doing in their eyes was fighting a war, they could probably justify his killing to themselves. She could never condone it, especially the brutal way in which it had been done.
She had slept in the truck for several hours but her dreams had been nightmares, nothing but images of Jacques and her loved ones being beheaded over and over again, and she dreaded going to sleep tonight, but also looked forward to it. She was exhausted, and it was still mid-afternoon.
They put the new arrival in Zone One as they had begun to refer to it. Half a dozen were in there now, all with early symptoms that could be any number of things. Sheets from the villagers had been strung to provide for lack of a better term ‘sneeze guards’ between these patients. Once past Zone One, there was no need, and they would only hinder their care, a clear line of sight needed since she and Tanya were working essentially alone. But she was determined to do her best. The longer she could prove useful, the longer she might stay alive.
How can we possibly help these people? There’s only the two of us!
She feared that if their captors thought they couldn’t handle the job more doctors might be kidnapped and she didn’t want anyone else to have to go through what they were going through.
She sighed. “I really wish we were able to test their blood,” she said to no one in particular.
“What would you need?”
She turned toward Mustapha. “Well, in those supplies you managed to steal there was a portable scanning electron microscope but none of the supplies it needs. Really all we need are slides, needles. Not much. If we could do the blood tests then we could at least confirm if these people are infected or not.”
Mustapha smiled. “I’ll be back.”
He quickly left, replaced only moments later by Tanya who was helping an elderly man into the room suffering from a cough and what appeared to be fever. She helped him onto one of the makeshift mattresses—generous piles of straw covered in blankets. She handed him some water then walked over to Sarah.
“I need to talk to you,” she whispered.
Sarah could tell by her tone that it was something she couldn’t risk anyone else overhearing. Tanya looked over at the door, Sarah following her gaze. Major Koroma was standing there, his hands on his hips, staring at them.
“It’s time we check on the other patients in Zones Two and Three.”
He nodded and left as Sarah pushed aside the sheet separating them from the infected patients. Out of sight of any of the soldiers, she pressed her head against Tanya’s so they could speak quietly. “What is it?”
“I overheard their conversation at lunch.”
“So did I but I didn’t understand any of it. Did you?”
Tanya nodded. “Yes. The major said he’s going to America soon.”
Sarah’s chest tightened, her eyes narrowing. “But why?”
“I don’t know, but I think they killed their own Vice President while he was visiting your country. I think it’s all part of a plan to get the major into the United States.”
Sarah shook her head. “That doesn’t make any sense. These people don’t seem like terrorists to me. They seem to just want to help their people. Why go to the US?”
Tanya shrugged in her suit, the plastic rustling with the effort. “I don’t know, but there’s one thing I’m sure of.”
“What’s that?”
“Once he leaves, it will be open season on us.”
Over the Atlantic Ocean
“What have you found?”
Dawson had his laptop open in front of him on the Gulf V they were using for transport to Sierra Leone. Besides his team of four there were several FBI and other agency specialists hitching a ride. It was good cover for them, they carrying Bureau of Diplomatic Security IDs themselves. It would allow them to land in Freetown and simply blend with the team then split off when they needed. The story had broken already though with the restrictions in place due to the outbreak, the Sierra Leoneans had assured them a private landing free of the press.
He wasn’t counting on it.
On the laptop Master Sergeant Mike “Red” Belme was giving them an update, having taken over the stateside investigation after the hospital murder-suicide. Niner, Atlas and Jimmy were gathered near the rear of the plane, listening in.
“Not much so far. The guy you took down is Dia Conteh. He worked at the hospital for over ten years and has an apartment nearby with a wife and four kids. He got his citizenship six years ago and has a clean record, not even a parking ticket. This guy was a model citizen.”
“Any links to known cells?”
“Negative. This guy had a cellphone that he barely used, no home phone, no computer or Internet access and had basic cable—none of the red flag channels like Al-Jazeera.”
“I take it you’ve searched the apartment?”
“Yes, but the FBI got to it first. They say they found nothing. They’ve got a forensics team going over it and the car with a fine-toothed comb. If there’s anything to find, they’ll find it, but I’m not optimistic. From all outward appearances this was just a normal guy, happy to be here and good at his job.”
“What about volunteer work?” asked Niner. “He had to have had some contacts with the old country in order to have been recruited.”
“We’ve got a lead on a drop-in center that the wife mentioned. We’re heading there now.”
“Roger that, BD. I’ll contact you when I have something, out.”
Dawson snapped the laptop shut as his team took their seats around the table, the Gulfstream V configured perfectly for quick four man meetings. “What’re you thinking, BD?”
Dawson looked at Niner. “They’ve been able to identify all the HTs from Norfolk, plus this new guy. They all grew up within fifty miles of each other in Sierra Leone, most are Muslim but two are Christian, all but two are American citizens, and none have any significant criminal record. There was no Islamic paraphernalia found at their residences and they had no history of radicalism.”
“And how do you radicalize the two Christians?” asked Niner. “The briefing notes said they weren’t converts.”
“That’s right,” said Dawson, tapping the laptop containing their notes. “And there was no evidence they were political, no evidence that they were anything but upstanding citizens, so what are they up to?”
Atlas’ voice boomed. “That ‘For my people’ thing makes me think this is political but not religious. Could it be related to the Ebola outbreak? Maybe they want us to put more of an effort into stopping it?”
Jimmy shook his head. “Then why not make those demands? They said not word one about the outbreak. The only thing that links the outbreak to any of this is where they were born.”
“Not entirely true,” said Dawson. “We have to assume that the kidnapping of Sarah Henderson is connected.”
“Do we?” Jimmy raised his hand. “Give me a second. I agree that they almost definitely are linked, but should we be making the assumption it is Ebola related? One of the guys in Sierra Leone has been identified, this Major Koroma. He’s from the same area as the others, so it’s reasonable to assume there is a link. Not only that, the timing is simply too coincidental, so I agree they’re linked. But I think it’s dangerous to assume this is Ebola related, because if we do, then we risk thinking their motivations are altruistic—”
Payback Page 11