by Jenifer Ruff
After a full day of touring Charlotte, the Sarif cousins returned to Amin’s apartment.
“I’m beat. I need to sit down.” Kareem laid back against the couch and closed his eyes.
“Long trip and the time difference,” Amin said. “We can watch some TV. I’ll be right back.”
Amin was only in his bedroom for a few minutes, but when he returned to the living room, he found Kareem already snoring.
Amin couldn’t help but laugh, and also feel a bit disappointed. But tomorrow was another day. He didn’t have to plan anything, since Kareem had reserved the day for his “surprise.” Amin filled a glass with water and returned to his room to watch television. The local news played the weather report followed by a piece hyping the next day’s Panthers versus Falcons game. He changed the channel to an old episode of Seinfeld, but failed to register what was happening on the show. Unresolved issues had his mind spinning: returning to work at the bank, a second chance with Isa and, most surprising, his cousin’s presence— dreaded for so many days but turning out to be fun.
Yet, with Elaine yelling at George on the television in the background, and Kareem snoring on the couch, doubts lingered. Had Kareem changed his mind about whatever it was he meant to do? Changing convictions was no easy task, had it really happened as if it was nothing? And what about Amin’s own spiritual convictions? What could he do to keep from slipping back into a spiritual oblivion? What would happen to his spiritual gains if he returned to spending each day inside the bank working on spreadsheets, the only change being a different cube? He didn’t know because he couldn’t know. When in doubt, pray. That’s what a good Muslim would do, and that’s who he wanted to be.
And verily, whosoever shows patience and forgives that would truly be from the things recommended by Allah.
Amin tried to focus on this passage from the Quran, one of his favorites. He had forgiven Kareem, Doug, Shelly from HR, Isa’s father for saying she was engaged when she wasn’t, whoever was responsible for siphoning his gas, those who killed his aunt and uncle, and the Muslims in Syria who prayed for most of the world’s population to suffer. Who else should he forgive? He wondered if anyone needed to forgive him. Five minutes after he began, he stopped praying because it felt forced and insincere. He got up and grabbed the business card Isa had given him with her work email address. He returned to bed with his laptop. Once it booted up, he composed a note to Isa. Business writing was something he did often and it came easily, but pouring his emotions into a heartfelt note, without sounding strange, presented a challenge. He did his best to channel a lighthearted vibe, calm and composed, yet interested and genuine.
Dear Isa,
So much has happened since I met you at the mosque with your father and decided you were the woman of my dreams. At first, none of it was good. At the mosque social, I was about to ask your father about dating you, when he told me you were engaged. A few days later, I lost my job. Not for poor performance, but just because. So, I visited Syria to help save my scientist cousin from becoming a jihadist, and to console him over the sudden death of his parents, my aunt and uncle. Sounds crazy, I know. Maybe it was.
Things unexpectedly took a turn for the better in Syria. I spent weeks repairing a mosque and attending service every day. I strengthened my faith by focusing on creating something beautiful and reflecting in silence, not by spending most of my day working on spreadsheets. When I returned, I discovered, again from your father, you weren’t engaged. Right away, I wanted to contact you, but with no job and some worries about my cousin, I hesitated.
My cousin is here in Charlotte now, and my concerns seem to have been unwarranted. Maybe you can meet him soon. We explored the city today and walked through your building. That’s when I decided I would be a fool to wait until my life was perfect to ask you out. Besides, I think I have a new job starting soon in a different department at Continental Bank. I interview on Monday, but I was told it’s only a formality.
Amin read over what he’d written and frowned. He would never send it to Isa. She didn’t need to know the embarrassing stuff, like his concerns about Kareem or how he was fired. Not before she got to know him. He could revise the letter the next day, or forget about it and see her in person, like he originally planned. As terrible as his note was, it served as an outlet for his emotions, and he suddenly felt drained. His eyes had grown heavy while he was writing. The first of three sneezes from the other room startled him. Amin’s hand slipped on his mouse when he went to click the save icon. He shut down his laptop and lay down to sleep, believing he had saved a draft. Except that’s not what happened. The message was on its way to Isa’s inbox.
Chapter Forty-One
Los Angeles
November 5th
Quinn paced behind the conference table, unable to sit. He glanced at his watch. Fourteen hundred hours. Seventeen hundred hours on the East Coast. Too much to do and not enough time.
“Who do we still need to communicate with?” Jayla asked.
“I need another call with the National Security Advisor. And the Governor of North Carolina. Right after we get the search for the two ticket holders underway.”
Quinn’s tired team sat slumped in their chairs. They were still capable, but noticeably worn, less sharp, like the errant hairs frizzing out of Stephanie’s usually smooth ponytail. He had to make a quick decision over their involvement going forward. If he gave them the choice, he knew what they would choose. The same way he would if he was in their shoes. The same way he had already decided for himself. He wasn’t sure if he should let them, but he knew what they were about to do, again, preventing a major terrorist attack, was the very reason each of his team members had coveted this job.
He put the decision square in their corner. Addressing the team, he said, “Every Federal Agency has a stake in this case, but the emergency timeframe doesn’t leave time for politics to play out, so it’s ours. However, I can request it be turned over to another office right now. You can go home and rest, take the showers some of you desperately need, and jump back in tomorrow and help. But if we keep this, sleep is out of the question for a while. So, are all of you up to this?”
“I’m not going home,” Stephanie said.
“Me either,” said Rashid.
The other three, Rick, Ken, and Jayla, shared similar sentiments.
Quinn lowered his head and smiled without opening his mouth. “I thought so. Just monitor yourselves. We can’t make a mistake. No matter how we’re feeling, we need to be able to give one hundred percent.”
“Of course,” Stephanie said.
“How we handle this could be the difference between preventing a worldwide epidemic…or not. Until the remaining ticket holders are identified, everyone in the Unites States is at risk.”
“If the public finds out, it’s going to be an unprecedented shit-storm,” said Ken.
“North Carolina will need to activate large scale precautionary measures in case we don’t find these other two before morning,” said Stephanie.
“What did the DHS representative say about—”
“Have you called the CDC to see —”
Everyone spoke at once, their questions and comments aimed at Quinn. His thoughts were sharply interrupted by a haunting flashback: children from the Kurdish refugee camp during his final tour in Iraq, then students at a local high school he and Rashid visited in the summer, followed by the random thought—Remember to text Holly that I’m not coming home. He needed to block out everything not related to the case and focus. They had to get started. He thumped the table with his open hand.
“I just spoke with Charlotte’s SAC. The Counterterrorism Hostage Rescue Teams are loading into helicopters now. They’ll be on the ground there within the hour. It’s our job to have a list of suspects ready for them by the time they land.”
Heads nodded around the table.
“Based on the incubation timeframe for hemorrhagic fever, we’ll work with the assumption that these carriers,
like the other two, were infected outside the country and entered the United States recently. Two hundred and eighty thousand people arrive at our international airports each day. Our primary objective is to narrow those arrivals down to our two terrorist weapons.”
“Who may or may not know that’s what they are,” Stephanie quickly added.
“I want three lists of suspects. Priority A, B, and C. Stephanie, I want you and Jayla to develop the A list. Here are the criteria.”
Jayla typed as Quinn spoke.
Priority A Criteria
departure = Paris
final destination = Charlotte
entering U.S. = 10/24-11/3
primary nationality = American
secondary nationality = Middle Eastern= Syria, Saudi Arabia, Iran, Iraq, Jordan, Egypt, Sudan, Somalia, Libya, Turkey
age = 17-30
marital status = single
traveling alone
gender = male
“With that criteria, we would have missed Spitz,” Stephanie said.
Quinn nodded. “I know. But we have to prioritize. We need to have names ready for the field agents and the HRT when they hit the ground. Jayla, I need you to track down the addresses as Stephanie comes up with the names. Ken, you’ll work on the B list. Ready for that criteria?”
Priority List B
departure = Paris
final destination = Charlotte
entering U.S. from 10/24-11/3
age = 17-40
marital status = all
nationality = all
gender = all
“What if they don’t live in North Carolina?” Rick said. “For example, South Carolina doesn’t have its own football team. What if he or she lives somewhere in South Carolina and plans to drive up to Charlotte for the Panthers game?”
“We’ll accommodate for that scenario with the C list that the rest of us will work on researching,” said Quinn.
Priority List C
departure = all international airports
final destination = all SC or NC airports
date range = 10/24-11/3
age = 17-40
marital status = all
nationality = all
gender = all
“This will be a long list, but it’s our safety net. After we deliver the A and B list names to the field agents, we’ll continue researching everyone else—census records, voting records, medical records—anything that moves them to the top of the candidates. The entire Intelligence and Analysis department is available to help with the research. We need to know these people inside and out so the right ones are singing out to us.”
“I’m on it,” said Rashid.
Rick raised his hand. He quickly pulled it down and asked his question when Ken sneered at him from across the table. “What if we put out an alert asking anyone who has certain symptoms to come forward so we can treat them? Or, we could ask for the people with those tickets to come forward? We could offer them an even better incentive. Like a big-screen TV? I know that would only work if the carriers aren’t real terrorists, but is it worth a try?”
“No.” Ken leaned back in his seat and stared at Rick as if he’d never heard anything so stupid. “No, for so many reasons. If they are real terrorists, we’ve just tipped them off that we’re looking for them, and they might change their target. And even if they aren’t, you think we can put something on social media asking anyone in Charlotte who has signs of hemorrhagic fever to call us? Yeah, that would go over real well. We might as well do the terrorists’ jobs for them and scare the hell out of everyone.”
“Okay. Just brainstorming ideas.”
“Don’t,” said Ken.
“Hey, guys, be nice. We’re supposed to share ideas and challenge each other,” said Stephanie. “That’s why we’re a team.”
“Stephanie is right,” said Quinn. “We don’t have time for this. You’re showing how tired you are. Just get to the lists.”
In less than an hour, Stephanie and Jayla created an A list with forty names and more than forty addresses including home, work, and second and third homes.
“Send it to the HRT teams and DHS in Charlotte,” Quinn said. He finished scanning the list and looked at his watch. Current time: 2100 hours on the East Coast.
“I finished the B list,” Ken said, getting up from his chair. “Jayla, I just sent it to you. Can you get their addresses? Damn, I need more coffee. And some food.”
“I’m doing something first,” Jayla said. “Use the Intelligence analysts from another office. They’re all available.”
“We all need food and coffee,” Quinn said. “Order something for everyone, Ken. After you get the addresses.”
“Eating slipped my mind,” said Stephanie. “But this isn’t an episode of 24 where no one ever needs to use the restroom.”
For the first time since he started working on the suspect list, Rashid turned away from his monitors to watch Stephanie hurry from the room.
“Oh, shoot. What time is it?” Rick looked at his phone. “Oh no. Be back in a few minutes.”
“What, did you have a date?” Ken asked, a sneer apparent in his tone.
“Something like that. Had a date set up yesterday, but I cancelled and rescheduled for tonight. I’m about to find out just how understanding she is when I cancel again. Wish me luck.” Rick was half way across the room when he stopped and turned back to Rashid. “Rashid, why don’t you ask her out?”
“Are you talking to me? What? Who?” Rashid said.
“You know who. It’s sort of obvious.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, man.” Rashid waved Rick off. “But this isn’t the time.”
“I’m just saying, the only opportunities we regret are the ones we don’t take.”
“That’s not true,” Ken mumbled. “If you were older you’d know. There are plenty of actions we eventually regret.”
Rick shrugged. “Surprise yourself,” he said to Rashid before sprinting away.
Chapter Forty-Two
Los Angeles
November 5th
With less than 24 hours before the Panther’s kickoff, Quinn’s team propelled forward on fumes of exhaustion, working against the clock to abort the attack in time. Jayla rushed from her desk to Quinn’s office to deliver a message.
“There’s a National Security Council Meeting in five minutes. It was called to discuss the deployment of additional forces to the Middle East. I got you, Dr. Hamilton, and the Governor of North Carolina added to the call,” said Jayla.
“Perfect,” said Quinn. “If we don’t succeed in tracking down the two carriers before sunrise, the list of people who need to know is going to explode.”
Jayla nodded. “I’ll route the call into the briefing room.”
“I better get over there.” Quinn stood up, grabbed his sports coat from the back of his chair and a tie from one of his desk drawers.
“Here’s a list of names and titles, the people on the council.” Jayla handed him a printed list as he strode past her. She frowned as her eyes quickly assessed him. “Wait. One second, I have some Visine in my bag. Let me give it to you.”
“No time.” Quinn hurried to the intelligence briefing room and stood at the head of the table, alone, tightening his tie. He had less than a minute to glance at the list of attendees. Included were the President, the National Security Advisor, the Director of Central Intelligence, the Secretary of Defense, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the Secretary of Health & Human Services, the Secretary of State, the DHS Cabinet member, the Attorney General, the Federal Emergency Management Agency Director, the Federal Bureau of Investigation Director, the Governor of North Carolina, and Madeline.
The Secretary of Health and Human Services kicked off the video conference. She was ex-military. Even seated, her posture was straight and strong. A Band-Aid covered part of her chin and Quinn remembered hearing she’d been in a minor car accident earlier in the day.
“With us for the beginning of this call are Assistant Special Agent in Charge Quinn Traynor with the FBI’s Counterterrorism unit, Dr. Madeline Hamilton from the CDC’s Outbreak Response Team, and Trent Silvers, the Governor of North Carolina,” said the Secretary. “Mr. Traynor is going to update us on an escalating threat of national concern. Go ahead, Mr. Traynor.”
Quinn wasn’t sure how much everyone on the call already knew about the situation. He swallowed, aware of his heartbeat, unusually fast and strong, and a slight tremor from too much caffeine. “I’m ASAC Agent Quinn Traynor.” He realized immediately that his words were unnecessary because the Secretary had already introduced him. He needed to focus.
“And this makes two times in one week that I’m hearing from you, Mr. Traynor,” the Secretary said, adjusting her glasses. “You prevented the mass transit attacks, so let’s hope for the same success.”
Quinn nodded. “Thank you, everyone, for allowing us to join your call. We believe our country is targeted for a bioterrorist attack and we have less than 24 hours to respond before it is carried out. To give you some background—as you know, yesterday, our country’s defense successfully prevented an ISIS cell from detonating explosions in three of our city’s subway systems. We now believe those were decoy attacks meant to distract us and spread our resources thin before a larger and more widespread attack with a viral weapon.” He reorganized his rushing thoughts as someone asked a question.
“What do you mean by a viral weapon? What type of virus?” The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff made a fist and brought it to his lips.
“E.Coryza 1 or the E.C.1 virus. It’s a genetically altered strain of Ebola. Ebola viruses, those that affect humans, are spread through contact with bodily fluids. By crossing Ebola with the common cold, this new strain can now spread through the air via coughing and sneezing, even breath, without physical contact,” said Quinn.