The Widow's Strike: A Pike Logan Thriller

by Brad Taylor

  “I’m wondering if we hold off until that’s done. Wait until we can be sure it works. We have no rush.”

  No, no, no. Malik had wondered what he would say if this most obvious question was asked and now was glad of what had happened in Hong Kong. “If we wait, we run into the Chinese dilemma. It will take them days to formulate a response, but we know it’s coming. Those are days we do not have. It could take weeks to extrapolate this material into enough vaccine to inoculate our population. We can build that buffer simply by preventing entry of any westerner. Let the virus consume them while we work.”

  Malik watched the cleric consider the statement, hoping he was truly worried about the Chinese repercussions, along with having no knowledge of what it took to develop a vaccine. He pressed ahead, as if the decision was already made.

  “The contact here was supposed to pass me the information for our friends in Venezuela. For the explosives. Did you get that word?”

  Snapped out of his thoughts, the cleric pushed an envelope across the table. “Yes. It’s all in here. Explosives, a boat, and a crew. They don’t know where they are going.”

  “That’s fine. They don’t need to.” Malik placed the original cell phone the cleric had given him on the table. “One other thing: My new passport is from Bahrain, but this phone is tied to a carpet company in Iran. I didn’t mind carrying it in the Far East, but inside the United States it’s asking for trouble. I didn’t want to answer it this morning when my contact called, but I did because you ordered me to. I need another, clean phone. I’ll get it myself and send you the number.”

  “You think the Americans are attempting to track it? That they are locked on to you now?”

  Malik held up his hands to assuage him. “No, not yet, but I’ve learned never to be lazy. While I’m sure I’ve lost the team completely, they were sent by someone, and those people won’t quit. They know someone has the virus. I just want to make sure they’re attempting to find the wrong person.”

  61

  Chip Dekkard relished his new role as a referent leader inside the Oversight Council. Up until the current crisis, he could have counted on one hand the number of times he had even opened his mouth. Now he had people like the secretary of state, the director of the CIA, and the secretary of defense hanging on his every word. He originally had signed the nondisclosure agreements for the council simply because the president had asked, in his heart eschewing working for the government and its bloated, inefficient mechanisms. Now he could see how the power was intoxicating, but he still remembered the stakes, which were higher for him than for anyone in the room.

  The council was frantic about stopping a pandemic that potentially would wipe out a third of the world’s population—as it should have been—but Chip was more worried about the aftereffects. Namely, who would be blamed? Because of this, he had decided to do whatever it took to stop the carrier—or carriers—in their tracks.

  Whatever it took.

  The president’s catching the flu, while ironic, had proven to be the best thing that could have happened for Chip. Since he’d become bedridden, nobody had mentioned a single word about the laboratory or how the research had been approved. Certainly not the vice president, whose sole function at these meetings had been to gain a consensus to protect himself from making a bad decision.

  Chip was positive that if he could contain the threat, he could contain the fallout that would come. Especially if he were seen as the man who’d done the most to prevent the tragedy. When it came out, as it inevitably would, he would profess innocence and call in his chips with the administration, including the massive help he had provided getting it in the position it was in.

  The irony of that thought was completely lost on him as he waited for Kurt Hale to update the progress on tracking the Iranians and bringing home their own potential carrier.

  He’d done his research with his in-house expertise and had become convinced that any indication of infection had to be contained. The virus was simply too virulent to assume any risk. This Jennifer Cahill had come too close to the flame and couldn’t be allowed to continue walking around. Quarantine was the only solution until the threat had been reduced.

  Kurt finished his report, which could pretty much be summed up in his last sentence: “We continue to pursue leads and develop the situation.”

  Meaning, we’ve got nothing. Shit. How can the greatest superpower the world has ever seen not be able to stop a single European woman?

  The national security advisor, Alexander Palmer, asked the first question. “So what’s the next step? Where do we focus our efforts?”

  Kurt said, “Sir, in my opinion, this has gotten outside the scope of the Taskforce. We need a full-court press. Get every asset in our arsenal on it. And I mean from every Podunk police department all the way up to the CIA.”

  Vice President Hannister said, “What will we tell them? How can we do that without a wide-scale panic?”

  “Panic is the last thing we want,” Kurt said. “Just get out the information on the general. He’s here in the US right now, and he’s the key.”

  The secretary of defense asked, “What about the carrier? That’s the real threat.”

  “Honestly, I don’t know,” Kurt said. “Only one person has even seen her, and we have no names or anything else. Other than she appears to be western, we have nothing. Malik is the key. Knowing how they operate, the carrier may not know the target. But Malik sure as shit does.”

  Chip realized Kurt had said nothing about the potential second carrier. “What about Jennifer? When’s she getting here?”

  With a stone face, Kurt said, “She’s here now. Well, she’s in New York, but she’s not infected.”

  “What? We gave specific operational orders. How do you know she’s here, and why isn’t she here?”

  Chip watched Kurt take a breath, wondering what was going on. Kurt said, “I can track their movements by their phones, and I gave the order for them to continue the mission instead of coming to DC. She’s the only one who knows what the carrier looks like. Bringing her here does nothing but slow down the operation.”

  Chip leaned back, assessing what Kurt had said. It didn’t make any sense at all. Since he’d been on the council, Kurt had been the consummate professional soldier, executing exactly as asked. He’d fought decisions, argued points, and even executed in the absence of council orders, but he’d never deliberately disobeyed one. Especially without even mentioning it until asked.

  Palmer said, “Kurt, I understand your mission focus, but you aren’t the expert on viral contamination. Keeping her in the field could be as bad as the threat itself.”

  “Sir, she’s not infected. She’s had none of the symptoms the doctor said she would get, and she didn’t infect Pike.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “Pike . . . uhhh . . . drank from her bottle of water accidentally, and he didn’t get sick. She’s okay.”

  Before anyone could say another word, the light above the door to the council’s secure room flashed twice. Meaning someone wanted in.

  Palmer opened it, seeing an aide. They conversed for a minute, then he returned, his face white.

  “We’ve got an outbreak in New York. Five people at Mount Sinai Medical Center in Manhattan.”

  Chip felt a shift in the room, the fear enveloping the men like a fog seeping out of the vents, a low murmur breaking out.

  Questions began flying until Alexander Palmer raised his hand. “Hang on, hang on. Here’s all I know: Six people confirmed infected, three dead. They think they know the source. A guy who worked at an equities trading firm, and the first to die. Three others are from his company, one is the doorman to his building, and one is a dishwasher at a diner he frequents.”

  Chip said, “What are the odds of others coming in?”

  “Jesus, Chip, how would I know? You just saw me get the message.”

  Vice President Hannister said, “How do they know it’s avian flu?”

&n
bsp; “Because of the president’s earlier alert to the CDC. The paramedics who found the victim on his floor had the alert and suspected what they were dealing with. They took appropriate precautions, and the CDC went to work on containment.”

  Chip looked at Kurt. “When you say Jennifer is in New York, where specifically?”

  Kurt said, “What do you mean?”

  “I mean where the hell is Jennifer on the surface of the earth, damn it! Is she in Manhattan?”

  Kurt was quiet for a moment, clenching his teeth. Then he said, “Yes.”

  “That’s it! Lock her down! Right now! Before she infects the entire East Coast. Thank God we alerted the CDC.”

  Kurt said, “She just got there yesterday! It can’t be her.”

  He was drowned out by the cacophony, all competing for Vice President Hannister’s attention. Kurt raised his voice. “Listen to me. It’s the carrier. We take Jennifer out of the fight, and we lose our ability to stop this.”

  Hannister said, “We can’t take that risk. Lock her down. You understand?”

  Kurt said, “What the hell are you people talking about? She couldn’t have landed here, infected someone, and have them in the hospital in twelve hours.”

  Palmer, his voice steel, said, “Get her to Walter Reed. Yesterday.”

  Kurt shifted from foot to foot. Palmer said, “You have an issue with that order?”

  The room grew somber, everyone waiting on his response, none liking where the tone of the meeting had gone. Kurt said, “Pike won’t let her come in. He won’t bring her.”

  The room erupted again, Chip louder than the rest. “What the hell does that mean? Get her ass here, now.”

  Kurt searched the table for support, seeing nothing but men scared of an invisible enemy they couldn’t fight with American power. Scared into making snap decisions that had no bearing on the outcome. He shouted, “You people are losing your grip! This is exactly what Pike was afraid of. Get control, damn it. Jennifer isn’t sick, and she’s the only one who can find the real carrier. Don’t you see? That person is in New York City right now! The real carrier is here!”

  The statement fell on deaf ears, the feeding frenzy in full swing, the men shouting back and forth.

  Chip drowned out everyone else. “Get her here on her own volition, or get her here with a team. Just get her here!”

  The ongoing racket withered at his outburst, each man unsure of where the statement was leading. Or maybe not wanting to believe it.

  Kurt looked him in the eye. “What did you just say?”

  Chip matched his stare. “You heard me. She may not think she’s a threat, but she is. If she doesn’t want to come voluntarily, then we bring her in with Taskforce assets, just like the other carrier.”

  Kurt said, “The other carrier is designated DOA.”

  Chip said, “Jesus Christ! We’re talking about a worldwide pandemic! Not about semantics. It’s her call. Not ours.”

  Kurt looked at the vice president. “Is that the council decision?”

  His lower lip quivering, Hannister flicked his head between Chip and Alexander Palmer. Chip nodded at him, trying to give him confidence. Hannister said, “Yes. We need to prove she’s no threat, and like Chip said, it’s not really our call. If she wants to come in, she’s free to do so. We won’t hurt her unless . . .”

  “Unless what?”

  “Unless nothing! We won’t hurt her. Just get her to Walter Reed. We’ve got the best experts waiting on her already.”

  “Sir, you know how the Asians prevent the spread of bird flu in their domestic flocks?”

  “No. What’s that got to do with this?”

  “Everything. They simply kill every single bird that has a remote chance of contracting the virus. They’ve killed millions at every outbreak. Is that how you want to solve this problem? Eliminating anyone who might be sick? Even the ones who can help?”

  Chip saw the vice president begin to waver and cut in. “Don’t turn this around, damn it! We’re not out to kill her! She’s got the opportunity to come in voluntarily! It’s not our call. It’s hers.”

  Kurt slowly faced him, the restrained violence causing Chip to lean back in his chair, unconsciously trying to distance himself. Kurt said, “You people sicken me. You want her, do it yourself. I quit.”

  Nobody said a word, the room silent except for the creaking of the chairs.

  Alexander Palmer regained his voice. “Whoa, Kurt. Don’t do anything stupid here. We need you on this.”

  Kurt walked to the door and opened it. “You don’t need me. You need someone to do your bidding without question. But you’re right about one thing: It’s not our call. It’s Pike’s. With or without your interference, he’s the best chance of stopping this threat, and he will not quit.”

  He stared directly at Chip. “You want to try and stop him, go ahead, but get your house in order before you do. You fuck with what he holds dear, and you’d better be willing to go all the way, because he’s bringing it to you whether you want it or not.”

  62

  I checked my watch, wondering how long we should sit here waiting on the general to return. It had already been over six hours, and so far nothing. I wasn’t too concerned, though, since we’d had to figure out this location on a shoestring. If we actually did find him, it would be a damn miracle.

  After hitting the United States in Detroit, I’d asked the Taskforce communications cell for a lock on the one number we had: the cell Ernie had dialed, then disconnected in Hong Kong. The analysts had said it was just a mistake, but it was all I had to pull. Of course, when I told the commo guys to search inside the United States, they’d balked.

  The Taskforce was forbidden from interfering with domestic telephony, and because of my current status, I couldn’t get anyone to order them to execute. I was just lucky they hadn’t heard what had occurred in Macau and still thought I was the team leader.

  After some back-and-forth, with me emphatically stating it was an Iranian phone, not one owned by a US citizen, they finally agreed to just check and see if it was active. They reported that it was inside the continental United States, but that was all I was going to get.

  So I knew the guy was here, which meant the carrier was more than likely here as well, but I had no locational data. I had one other idea, but it required help from the hacking cell, and that was out of the question, since their activities were very, very sensitive. They wouldn’t operate on my say-so, but instead would require authorization from Kurt for any operation.

  It was time to get a little devious.

  I called our finance section, getting the warrant officer on the phone who dealt with background checks.

  Every person who attempted to join the Taskforce went through a battery of psychological, physical, and historical screening. One part of that was a simple credit check, just like a bank ran, to ensure the prospective candidate wasn’t at risk of compromise from some foreign agency because he was about to go bankrupt. I hoped to use our access to credit databases to neck down the general.

  Donny, the warrant officer, was immediately skeptical when I called, precisely because he never did anything operational. He was in that part of the Taskforce that simply kept the wheels turning—in this case, making sure we all got paid. He was also a friend whom I’d served with in a couple of different units—something I intended to leverage.

  He said, “What’s this got to do with your pay?”

  “Nothing,” I said. “I’m checking up on someone else.”

  “Pike, I can’t go mucking around in someone’s credit history for personal reasons. Jesus. You trying to sell a car or something? Get ’em to pay cash.”

  “It’s not for personal reasons. It’s much, much more than that. All I want you to do is run a rewards number and see if it’s tied to an active credit card being used in the United States.”

  It was very, very tenuous, but I was hoping whoever had created the general’s alias credit cards had made the same mistake
Jennifer had found in Singapore. Tenuous, but not crazy. More than likely, the same shop was cranking out documents for a whole host of nefarious missions, and cross-pollination would occur. I’d seen similar mistakes in our own intelligence community.

  “Why are you asking me? We’ve got a section that does this for a living.”

  “Donny, I can’t ask them. I don’t have time to go into it, but trust me; I’m not doing this for personal reasons. You know me. You know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t critical.”

  “Pike, you’re going to get us both fired!”

  No. Just you. I’m already fired.

  “Nobody will know. I promise if I get in trouble, I won’t bring you into it.”

  For a second, all I heard was him breathing into the phone. Then he said, “Give me the damn number. I’ll call you back.”

  I’d relayed the phone call to Jennifer, and we’d waited to see if we were going to buy a ticket home or a ticket to a potential bed-down location. Fifteen minutes later, we had an address to a hotel in Manhattan, and we’d caught the next flight out, feeling the elation of the hunt.

  Now I felt nothing but boredom. Stakeouts ranked right up there with a trip to the dentist, especially when they began to drag on with no end in sight, made worse by the size of my measly little force. With only two people, we couldn’t do this twenty-four/seven. We certainly couldn’t execute follow-on operations, but that was okay.

  Once I confirmed the presence of either the carrier or the general, I was going to call Kurt and pass the torch to a viable team, then fade into the background until this mess was all sorted out.

  Jennifer and I had split up, with me in a deli a block over and her positioned in a coffee shop across the street from the hotel entrance. Since she was the only one who knew both the carrier and the general on sight, she was getting the brunt of the work. I’d done what I could to alter both her appearance and mine, using techniques the Taskforce had borrowed from Hollywood. I looked like a deranged stockbroker, with a cheap-ass wig, cotton in my cheeks, a three-day growth of beard, brown contact lenses, and a threadbare suit. I couldn’t have cared less what the people around me thought, though. The point wasn’t to pass myself off as legitimate. It was simply to not look like Pike Logan.