by Bobby Akart
“Janie, find a secure location for the bags,” said Mac, who then asked the receptionist if there was an office she could use to place a couple of calls. After being directed to Brown’s small corner office, she called Atlanta and spoke with Baggett.
Baggett, as usual, tried to downplay Mac’s observations on the basis that none of the local hospitals had positively identified any of the sick as plague victims. To Mac, this was absurd and she tuned out the rest of his suggestions. She had a direct line to the director of the CDC now, and she should have called Dr. Spielman in the first place.
She spoke with his assistant, who told Mac the director was unavailable. She asked the following simple message be passed along—Guatemala has erupted with symptomatic human carriers.
Finally, Mac tried to call Hunter, but received his voice mail instead. Her message to him was simple as well—At the CDC. City in chaos. Be careful.
As Mac hung up the phone, Brown emerged through a side entrance to the building, with a pretty Latina woman in her mid-thirties. She appeared apprehensive, but after Mac spoke with her for a moment, the woman’s nervousness stemmed from the situation outside and not for the task being asked of her.
In fact, one of her co-workers, a veterinary school intern, had come to her for help yesterday. The man’s parents had taken ill and they were unable to access the hospital. He and his younger sister had been caring for the parents for two days. Camille had provided them Clavamox, a form of amoxicillin used to treat respiratory infections in small animals. Mac admired her attempt to help the family, but the Clavamox would be ineffective.
In any event, Mac was pleased they had a group of test patients. She instructed Brown and Camille on safety procedures. From this point forward, they were to use personal protective clothing and avoid all skin-to-skin contact. When the family arrived, they would be given surgical scrubs out of the CDC’s supply closet and their old clothing must be discarded. No one must come in or out of the vet clinic except Brown and Camille.
Brown locked the entry doors to the CDC building and gathered up the three remaining staff members to head across the alleyway to the vet’s office. The four of them would sterilize the interior with antibacterial wipes and also stock the building with MREs and bottled water. The situation was not ideal, but it was all Mac had to work with.
Janie prepared detailed notes on how to administer the colistin and then created makeshift charts to monitor the progress of their four patients. Sadly, Janie and Mac agreed, the son and daughter would be starting the drug regimen as well. They’d been exposed to the parents during the incubation period and as symptoms began to surface. There was little doubt they were infected too.
Finally, Mac instructed Janie to warn Brown to take care of himself and Camille too. If they showed the slightest signs of being symptomatic, they were to administer the colistin regimen to each other.
Chapter 58
Day Nineteen
CDC Offices
Guatemala City
Hunter and Khan were frustrated as they made their way to the local CDC office. Unlike Greece, where Hunter was able to take an active role during the interrogation process, he was relatively stonewalled here. The local law enforcement, now primarily made up of the military, cooperated in terms of sharing information. But, as Khan put it, they didn’t allow Hunter to have a go at the pharmacist who’d likely assisted a group of ISIS operatives to pass through Honduras and into Guatemala. Looking at the scared man through the two-way mirror in the police station, Hunter was certain that he could learn everything the man knew in all of five minutes if he had been allowed to use the proper methods.
“Hunter, there,” said Khan, pointing to a vacant gravel lot across from the CDC building. “Do you see them?”
“Yeah, looks like a bunch of punks to me,” said Hunter.
“More than punks, my friend. They’re Mara Salvatrucha, the deadliest gangbangers in the world. Do you see the tattooed faces? That’s how they distinguish themselves from punks, as you called them.”
Hunter studied the group without being obvious as he parked the rented Dodge Caravan in front of the building next to the CDC’s white Explorer. He sat there for a moment as he and Khan counted heads through their rearview mirrors.
“Seven?” asked Khan.
“Yeah, seven. Why would they congregate there, I wonder?”
“Also, did you notice they weren’t carrying on a conversation?” asked Khan. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say they were casing the joint, as your American crime shows like to say.”
Hunter nodded. There were a number of reasons a gang like MS-13 would be interested in the CDC, or the veterinarian’s office next door, including the ability to score pharmaceuticals and to prey upon the defenseless women who typically worked in those facilities.
Hunter reached in the backseat of the van and grabbed his duffle bag. Khan appeared to read Hunter’s mind and did the same. Each man unzipped their bags and revealed two-gun shoulder holsters. Hunter turned the combination lock on his Pelican Storm dual-weapon carry case, which revealed identical Sig Sauer P320 nine millimeter handguns.
He strapped one to each side of his shoulder holster after pressing two magazines into place. Khan was one step ahead of him as he removed the foam tray, revealing four more twenty-one-round magazines, which were easily slipped into the straps of the holster.
The rig, which contained both weapons and a hundred rounds of one-hundred-forty-seven-grain ammo, was heavy. But, from the looks of the bad hombres across the street, necessary for their protection.
Hunter pulled out his cell phone and called Mac, who picked up on the first ring. “Hey, where are you?” she asked.
“Listen, we’re right outside the building. I see the blinds are closed, including on the front door. Is it locked?”
“Yeah, we needed to lock the building down. I suspect the city is full of infected people, and we don’t need them wandering in here.”
“Mac, get ready to open the door for us and tell the staff to stay away from the windows. Okay?”
Mac peered at Hunter and Khan through the blinds of the door. She pushed the door open slightly to give them the green light to enter.
“Khan, I think you can circle through that alley unseen because the two vehicles obstruct their field of vision. See if they have the back being watched. Call me when you’ve got a feel for things. I hope my gut’s wrong, but it rarely is.”
“Got it,” said Khan. “Cheers.”
Khan slowly exited the truck and made his way around the front bumpers until he was out of site. Hunter kept his gaze on the men across the street, watching for a reaction. There was none, which prompted him to exit the van and walk toward the building’s entrance.
As he entered, Mac immediately locked the door and gave him an unexpected hug. She whispered in his ear, “I’m so glad you’re here.”
Surprised, Hunter hesitated, but then he embraced her back, enjoying this genuine moment of affection between them. Their hug was natural, as if the two had been together for years instead of casually knowing each other for a week or so. Hunter wasn’t going to question the transformation in their relationship. He liked it.
“Me too,” he whispered back to her as he split the blinds slightly to locate the gang members across the street. One was on the phone and two others had taken up positions on the street corner a hundred feet to his right.
Mac gently patted his weapons and looked Hunter in the eyes. “Are you expecting trouble?” she asked him calmly.
Hunter attempted a smile and replied, “Maybe. There are some gangbangers across the street—MS-13. Real bad dudes. We suspect they’re watching the building.”
“We?”
“Yeah, my partner, Kameel Khan, is with me. He’s checking out the perimeter of the building.”
“Is he okay out there alone?”
“Sure, he’s former UK Special Forces. It’s the gangbangers who should be afraid.” Hunter turned to look around.
Only Janie was in the large open workspace. She didn’t bother to say hello, only managing a wave from behind a computer monitor.
“Janie’s preparing instructions and charts for our patients,” said Mac. “We went to the hospital and it was an absolute disaster. We turned around and walked out.”
“You’re gonna see patients here?” Hunter looked around at the desks and cubicles. A small glass-enclosed laboratory was positioned toward the left rear of the space.
“No, actually, we’re setting them up next door at the vet’s office. We needed a controlled environment to study the effects of a different antibiotic. The customary treatments aren’t working, so we have to move towards a drug that isn’t typically used.”
Hunter turned around and touched Mac on the shoulder. “You’ve confirmed the strain to be resistant?”
“I think it’s a possibility,” she replied. “It’ll take a week to determine if it has an impact on the test patients next door. Two are fully symptomatic in the early stages and their kids will be soon, they just don’t know it yet.”
Hunter led Mac by the arm toward the rear of the building. They pulled a couple of chairs together and sat alone, outside of Janie’s earshot.
“Hunter, what is it?”
Hunter swallowed and leaned forward, arms resting on the top of his thighs. “Listen, I need to tell you about a covert operation called Project Artemis. Khan and I are part of a handpicked ten-person team that was set up to prevent bioterrorist attacks.”
“Is this new? As in the last few days?” asked Mac.
“No, I’ve been with the DTRA since its inception a few years ago. Project Artemis is off the books, not public knowledge, and shouldn’t be discussed with anyone, including you, frankly. But I’m not comfortable keeping you in the dark.”
“What do you do that requires being off the books, as you call it?”
Hunter popped his head up to make sure they wouldn’t be interrupted. “Mac, we look for ghosts and wild-goose chases. We don’t just create working theories, we act upon them. That conversation you and I had over dinner in Athens? It’s become the working theory for the DTRA and Project Artemis.”
“Our conclusions were based upon supposition, not hard evidence,” said Mac. “There were an awful lot of dots connected without any basis for drawing the lines between them.”
“Mac, we’re in the beginnings of the biggest war known to mankind,” said Hunter. “This is not just a run-of-the-mill terrorist attack. We believe ISIS, possibly with the help of al-Qaeda, Hamas, etc., has initiated the so-called Final Jihad. And they’re using weaponized plague as the mechanism for carrying it out.”
Mac leaned back in the chair for a moment. “That is consistent with what we discussed, but how do you know it’s a coordinated attack? You know, to infect that many people, ISIS would need a boatload of the plague bacterium.”
“Yes, that’s true. But it’s possible, right? Whether its spread by human-to-human contact or using an aerosol form, the results can be catastrophic.”
Mac nodded. “You saw what’s happening here. The incredible escalation of sick people in Guatemala is a direct result of the highly contagious disease that the plague is. In reality, thousands upon thousands of people are infected because of one individual, a young man named Fernando who happened to find the original village where the plague had killed all of the inhabitants. That was three weeks ago, and we’re seeing the repercussions now.”
“Exactly,” added Hunter. “Now, have you considered how the first village was infected to begin with?”
“That’s been puzzling for all of us,” replied Mac. “The strain is consistent with Trinidad and Greece, but the timing is all wrong. Guatemala is too far from Madagascar and the village is too remote.”
Hunter interrupted her. “What if the village was a testing ground? The terrorists used the villagers as lab rats to study the incubation periods and the interval to the time of death after inoculation.”
“Beyond belief, but nothing surprises me,” said Mac.
Hunter continued. “They infected the village, then sat back with their popcorn and watched the carnage. They needed to know the timetable in order to plan their attack for maximum impact.”
“What’s their target?” asked Mac.
“In this case, the Final Jihad, anybody but themselves—all of us infidels.”
Hunter’s phone buzzed with a text message from Khan.
Tried to call. Some Spanish gibberish said all circuits are busy, I think. Ready to come in. Getting dark. Scared. LOL!
Hunter laughed and turned to Mac. “Come on, I’d like you to meet my partner.”
Hunter took Mac by the hand and led her to the front door. Janie glanced at the two of them and smiled. Hunter wasn’t sure if she was still working on the task for Mac or giving them plenty of room to talk.
Hunter peered through the blinds and confirmed Khan’s arrival at the door. Dusk had settled in and his view of the surroundings had diminished. The night benefitted those familiar with their surroundings, not a good feeling for Hunter as he caught a glimpse of someone moving through the shadows to his right.
Chapter 59
Day Nineteen
Guatemala City
It was just past seven and darkness had overcome Guatemala City in more ways than one. Sirens wailed, echoing off the sides of the taller buildings in the city. Sporadic gunfire could be heard, causing the group to remain on alert, wondering if the gang members were going to make their move.
“I don’t like this,” said Khan. “They’re still across the street and another car just pulled in. Who knows what’s happened outside our periphery?”
Brown had just returned to the building to provide an update on their progress in the vet’s office. Camille administered the medications and everyone was resting comfortably. It was understood that it would take at least three days for the symptomatic patients to show improvement.
After receiving the initial doses of colistin, the children of the sick couple, age nineteen and twenty-three, might exhibit flu-like symptoms initially, but they would not progress to the respiratory failure that caused death. If the condition of the four test patients worsened, then the colistin experiment could be declared a bust. They’d know in seventy-two hours.
“Hunter, I’ve got movement outside,” said Khan. “They’re fanning out around the front of the building.”
“Listen up, we’re sitting ducks in here,” said Hunter with a sudden sense of urgency. “These guys have waited and they’re coming for us. We’ve got to pull them away from the task at hand—attending to those patients next door.”
“What should we do?” asked Mac.
Without answering, Hunter turned to Brown. “Is there anything of value here other than computers and lab equipment? Drugs? Money? Etcetera?”
Brown shook his head. “This facility performs an administrative function for the most part. Rarely do we conduct field operations, which is why there are only a handful of CEFOs stationed here. We don’t even have any infectious diseases on-site worth stealing.”
“Hunter, I don’t know what you’re thinking, but MS-13 might think there’s something more,” interjected Khan.
“Or maybe they saw Mac and Janie unload two big aluminum cases full of medicine for the ill,” said Hunter. “Medicine worth its weight in gold on the black market.”
Khan added, “There was a situation in Lagos, Nigeria, after the Ebola outbreak, in which Black Axe members stormed a clinic and forcibly took all of the antibiotics being used to treat patients there. The drugs were used to treat their members, who repeated the process at another facility weeks later. In that raid, they killed everyone in the clinic, including the dying patients.”
“What should we do?” asked Mac, her voice cool and controlled.
“Leave,” replied Hunter bluntly. “We’ll have Brown take all of the colistin to the vet’s office for treatment of those patients and any others he deems necessary. The four of us
will make a break for the van, carrying the aluminum cases to draw the gangbangers away from the CDC and, more importantly, away from the vet’s office so the treatment can continue.”
“I should stay to help Lawrence with the patients,” said Mac.
“No,” insisted Hunter, catching Mac off guard with his brusque reply. “If we don’t all leave, they’ll know someone is left behind and they won’t follow. They need to believe that we’re taking the drugs with us in order for them to take the bait.”
“I think it’ll work and we’ll be fine, Mac,” said Brown. “The clinic is secured with steel bars and I can barricade the rear entry. I believe Hunter is correct. They’re after those cases; otherwise they would have robbed our offices already.”
Mac still appeared hesitant and Hunter sensed she was concerned for the safety of Brown, Camille and the patients in their care. He was impressed by her demeanor. He pulled one of his weapons and an extra magazine, then offered it to Brown. “Here, this will provide you over forty rounds with good stopping power.”
Brown held his hands up and shook his head. “No need, Hunter, but thank you. I have my own. There’s a Beretta tucked in a holster around my ankle and I’ve already given Camille a shotgun. We’ll be fine.”
Mac grinned and exchanged a surprised look with Janie. Janie mouthed the words who knew back to Mac.
Hunter began to issue instructions. “Okay, let’s roll. Brown, slip across the alley and be ready in case I’m wrong. The rest of us are gonna make our way to the American Embassy.”
Brown reached into his pocket and pulled out the keys to the CDC truck. “Here, take the Explorer. The embassy is closed, but the CDC markings may help you get past the guards.”
Hunter took the keys and nodded his thanks. He gave Brown the keys to the rented Dodge Caravan. “Take it back if you get a chance, okay?”