Into The Shadows

by Michael Brady

  Akbar barked out orders.

  “Attack the vehicle. Move now.”

  The two fighters pinned behind the second vehicle rushed forward. Moving side by side, they sprayed Elif’s position with bullets. Nanook rolled onto his stomach and fired from the ground. The first man fell to the dirt. Elif finished the second one moments later.

  Michael decided to flank the lone fighter hiding behind the tree. He had the advantage of an infrared scope, so he took his time. He found a clearing as he carefully moved forward. The lone remaining Islamic State fighter was now approximately twenty-five meters ahead of Michael.

  Michael took a deep breath, exhaled, and gently squeezed the trigger. He hit Akbar directly in the side of head shattering his skull.

  Hassan Akbar’s jihad was over.

  Michael slowly moved back toward the vehicle ensuring he did not spook Elif or Nanook. He called out to them.

  “Elif, the five men here are dead. How are you and Nanook?”

  “Clear here, Michael. Come on in.”

  “These guys were not YPG.” said Michael.

  “Probably Islamic State. Raif had me fooled.”

  “You’re bleeding Elif.”

  A stray bullet hit Elif in the arm during the firefight. The excitement and adrenaline kept her from even realizing the wound.

  “It’s not that bad. I’ll make a tourniquet.”

  Michael turned to Nanook.

  “Let’s take one of the trucks, load the AT-4s in the back, and get the hell out of here. More of these bastards could be on the way.”

  “We are bringing Walid back, Michael,” said Elif.

  “Of course, I understand.”

  Fifteen minutes later the group drove back under the Jerablus Bridge and into Turkey as bodies lay scattered along the Euphrates. The trip to Arsuz would include long periods of silence and reflection for both Elif and Michael.

  Arsuz, Turkey – November 7, 1:48 PM

  Michael awoke from his deep sleep. He was unsure if Elif was in her bedroom, but he decided to let her rest in case she was.

  It was time to update Langley. Michael reached for his secure cell phone and called Doug.

  “Doug, we lost the source along the border last night. Before he died, he said the Sheikh at Kenema was involved in the Ebola plot.”

  “What did he say?”

  “That was it. Just that he knew of the plan.”

  “No other specifics?” asked Doug.

  “No.”

  “So, we don’t know yet if the individual has left Sierra Leone?”

  “No. We cannot be sure of anything at this point.”

  “How the hell would he or she get out?” asked Doug though he had analysts looking into several scenarios.

  “I doubt they will try using commercial aircraft. Security is probably tight due to the outbreak. My guess is he will travel by boat and either enter the country via Brazil or somewhere in the Caribbean.”

  “Well, security is definitely tight at all airports. My analysts tell me there is a probability of less than ten percent the individual would get onto a plane,” said Doug.

  “Let’s work on the theory Islamic State is moving the individual by boat. If that is correct, then we have time to gather Intel. I need to get to Kenema as soon as possible.”

  “Agreed, Michael. How soon can you travel?”

  “I can be ready tonight. Think our friends at Mossad would allow Elif to join me?”

  “Thought your update earlier said her source was supplying YPG and they turned out to be Islamic State. You sure you need her?” asked Doug a bit sarcastically.

  “Yes. She is a superb collector and operative. Her source had her fooled. It has happened to all of us, Doug. Do you recall what transpired in Yemen? The extra support from Tel Aviv might come in handy.”

  Doug sighed and paused a moment. He agreed the added collection effort from Mossad might help his already stretched resources. In addition, many at the intelligence directorate dismissed the plot’s viability.

  “Let me call now and gauge their reaction. They might want her looking into the dead contact. Let me get back to you later.”

  Doug called forty-five minutes later.

  “Michael. Mossad is open to the idea. They have agreed to let Elif join you in Kenema.”

  Doug paused for a moment and continued.

  “Understand something, Michael. Most of us around here think the idea remains preposterous. That someone could arrive in New York, and infect people with Ebola just does not fly with most analysts. And even if a few individuals were infected, we have the medical facilities and resources to save them.”

  “What if they are wrong, Doug. What if the individual rides a subway for a day, or even longer, and simply coughs and sneezes around people. Hundreds of people could be infected, and there would be panic, not to mention the possible loss of life.”

  “Yes, Michael. That could happen, and analysts are looking at several hypotheses. Stay focused on Kenema and get the Intel we need. If this is even true, they may still be in the early planning stages and not even off the ground yet. Mossad will transport you both to Kenema. Check your file later for what we have on the Mosque there. Let me know when you have something.”

  Doug hung up. Michael wondered if Elif was aware of the development.

  A short while later Elif exited her bedroom.

  “Guess we are going to Kenema,” said Elif.

  “When?”

  “This evening. They are sending a plane to Hatay and then we will fly directly to Sierra Leone.”

  “Good. Let us grab a bite to eat. I’m starving,” said Michael.

  State Department, Bureau of Intelligence and Research, Washington, D.C. - November 7, 2:30 PM

  Leslie and her colleagues convened for the second time in the bland conference room. Surrounding them were whiteboards and sharpies. They were in the middle of red teaming, a process whereby an intelligence analyst thinks like an adversary and develops several courses of action.

  “Carl, your turn,” said Leslie.

  “One way I would introduce Ebola into New York City is through the blood supply. I would task an individual with getting into a blood bank and simply infect the blood inside. Maybe a place like the Red Cross. I am sure their security is lax.”

  “Okay. How would you do it?” asked Jeremy.

  “I would simply trade out good blood bags with Ebola-infected bags.”

  “But how would you get infected bags through security and into the country?” asked Leslie.

  “I would infect the individual just prior to their departure. They could then remove some of their blood once they arrive.”

  “That would mean the individual has learned to use a syringe properly, and store blood. And how would you infect the person without infecting those around him?”

  “A blood transfusion.”

  “You really think Islamic State has the resources and know-how to do this?”

  “Probably not. But it’s a possibility, though unlikely.” said Carl.

  “Jeremy, what have you come up with?” asked Leslie.

  “I would dispatch the individual aboard a commercial airliner. Let him infect a few people on the plane and hope some of those infect others. Then those would infect more and so on. If only one of those passengers die, Islamic State could achieve significant propaganda value from it.”

  “Then what would the individual do once they land?”

  “Mingle within the population before he could no longer walk or move around. He could also acquire explosives and blow himself up in a crowded restaurant or cafe in the city.”

  Jordan chimed in.

  “Would a terrorist actually do this? If I were committed, I would prefer a quicker death. A slow painful death does not fit the narrative.”

&nb
sp; “True. It does not fit the profile. Maybe the individual is unaware he or she has Ebola? Maybe he or she is told it’s something else?” said Jeremy.

  “Maybe. However, I agree with Jordan. Even someone committed to the jihad is unlikely to go through the horrific pain and suffering. I would prefer a quicker death,” said Leslie.

  Jordan had her first productive idea for the group in quite some time. Leslie turned to her.

  “Okay, Jordan. Your thoughts?”

  “I would identify a blood bank in or near a city hospital. Infect the blood, similar to what Carl suggested, and then blow myself up in a crowded area near the blood bank. When injured people are transported to the hospital, some of the infected blood would be transferred to them.”

  Leslie thought the idea was possible but a little farfetched. In her mind, severely injured people from the blast would likely remain in the hospital for days and weeks. Therefore, the staff could identify the virus and keep it contained within the facility. However, Jordan’s manner of thinking pleased Leslie.

  “Let me tell you all what I think. What if the individual arrives in the city and simply rides on the subway for several days sneezing and coughing at nearby passengers? In a few days, infected passengers would probably think they simply have the onset of a cold or the flu. It would take days before the infection caused them to visit their doctor or go to the hospital. Then, as the pain becomes unbearable, our target conducts a suicide attack somewhere in the city.”

  The group nodded in agreement. They all decided Leslie’s scenario was possible but so were the previous courses of action. Jeremy then raised a question.

  “How would this guy get into the city? Think he would travel by commercial airliner or another way?”

  “My guess right now is via commercial aircraft. It is quicker, has potential secondary effects, and there are no bans on flights from the region as of now. It is my understanding that airport security officers look for passengers exhibiting signs of the disease. However, if the target exhibits no symptoms, he or she would be free to travel. I could see a scenario where the individual enters via a cargo ship or some other vessel, but I would go with the aircraft at this point.”

  Jeremy turned to Leslie and spoke.

  “I agree. The commercial airliner seems the most plausible at this point.”

  “Okay, I want each of you to keep evaluating your working hypothesis. Work out the holes and let us get back at it in the morning. I also want each of you to identify all major airports and airlines in the region with known flights into the United States. There are probably several handfuls of flights each week that connect into South America or Europe. Carefully look at all possible routes,” said Leslie.

  Leslie returned to her office and picked up the phone.

  “Joe, we have a working theory on how it might be done. We believe commercial aircraft is the most viable option from the intelligence we have. We are not ruling out other transportation means, but an airliner is the most likely course of action.”

  “Okay, anything showing up on your queries? Any information in the database on biological weapons or Ebola?”

  “Nothing out of the ordinary. I see no chatter on the subject other than reports of the outbreak and what some NGOs are doing there.”

  “This is obviously not enough to go higher with, Leslie.”

  “I agree, Joe. Was CIA satisfied with our initial report?”

  “Appears so. No one believes the scenario could happen, except you at this point. I hope you are wrong on this one.”

  “Me too, Joe. Nevertheless, we cannot stop working on the hypothesis, no matter how unlikely. Think other agencies will share their Intel with us if they pick up something?”

  “I would like to think so, but you know how that goes sometimes.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “All right, Leslie. Keep at it. This remains your priority for the near future. Be prepared to brief higher headquarters or another agency as soon as tomorrow. Standard briefing.”

  “Will do.”

  Leslie hung up the phone and stared at the picture over her desk. It was a shot of ground zero where the World Trade Center buildings collapsed from unforeseen intelligence estimates. She dared not dismiss this theory, despite its perceived madness and low probability for success.

  Hatay, Turkey – November 7, 7:30 PM

  Michael and Elif arrived at the Hatay airport.

  “Nanook, I want you to make the arrangements for Walid,” said Elif.

  “Of course, Elif. He was my friend. I will miss him.”

  “Where will he be buried?”

  “I will bury him outside Arsuz overlooking the Mediterranean. He loved it there. There is a cemetery near the ocean.”

  “He was a good man, Nanook, and one of the best I ever served with. I am not sure how long I will be gone. After you give Walid a proper burial, I want you to start looking for a new man.”

  “I have someone in mind.”

  “Someone I know?”

  “No. Have a good flight, Elif. Let me know when you return, and I will pick you up.”

  Michael turned to Nanook and thanked him for his support the night before. He offered Nanook one final condolence for Walid and began climbing the stair ramp. Elif was now closely behind him.

  The single bullet entered Elif’s lower dorsal cavity, and she fell forward onto Michael. Michael immediately recognizing the fatal shot and scanned the surrounding area for a shooter.

  “Nanook, did you see where it came from?” yelled Michael.

  “No, Michael. The only place I can think of is the hangar ahead of us to our left. It must have come from there.”

  The pilot raced from his cockpit and quickly made his way to Michael and Elif.

  “Elif, are you okay?” asked the pilot.

  She was barely able to speak as she turned to the pilot.

  “Get this man to Kenema. The mission must proceed as planned.”

  “We have to get you to a hospital now,” said the pilot.

  “No, he must get to Kenema as soon as possible.”

  “Nanook, get her out of here. I am going after the shooter. Pilot, keep the plane running. I will be back shortly,” said Michael.

  Michael pulled out his weapon and fired several shots into the open hangar. He fired several more rounds as Elif and Nanook entered the vehicle. He spotted the shooter peering their head from around the corner of the hangar’s entrance.

  “Nanook, drive toward the hangar before you leave. Fire into the opening and keep the shooter pinned inside.”

  Michael followed behind the car as Nanook fired into the opening. As Nanook came within ten meters, Michael motioned he was going inside.

  “Get out of here,” Michael yelled.

  Michael immediately began to fire in the direction of the shooter. As he approached the entrance, he saw no one behind the walls. He then peered his head around the corner and observed an individual running toward the back of the shelter behind a shipping container.

  Michael reloaded. He fired several rounds toward the shooter as one bullet narrowly missed the individual’s head and smashed into the wall.

  The container was small. It was only four feet wide and nearly four feet in height.

  Michael decided to slowly walk toward the container and fire one round every few seconds to keep the shooter’s head down.

  The shooter drew their pistol and stood up as Michael got closer. The person managed to fire a single round that narrowly missed Michael.

  Michael did not hesitate. The shooter fell backward as he fired three rounds into her chest.

  “Who the hell are you?” asked Michael.

  “Dabria Uzun, MIT.”

  Dabria knew she was dying but decided to communicate with her killer anyway.

  “Why the hell did you shoot at my f
riend? She could be dead within minutes.”

  “I was aiming for you. Nasir wants you dead.”

  “Nasir from AQAP? How the hell do you know him?”

  Dabria was unable to speak and died.

  Michael checked Dabria for a cell phone and found it in the back pocket of her jeans.

  He only noticed a few calls, but all were to Yemen as evident by the numeric sequences. He did not have time to look further as local police would probably be on their way soon.

  Michael rejoined the pilot at the stair ramp a few minutes later.

  “Let’s get the hell out of here. Turkish police could be arriving within minutes. How long before we get to Sierra Leone?”

  “We should be in Kenema in about seven hours, Mr. Brennan.”

  “Okay. I wonder how Elif is doing? Get us airborne.”

  Barma, Sierra Leone – November 8, 10:20 AM

  Lucee finished her tenth long day in a row. She was due for a break and her co-workers at Medicins Sans Frontieres agreed. They urged her to go to Kenema and relax for a few days. She had earned it.

  The previous five days were the worst since she began working with MSF. All told, she helped bring over twenty-seven bodies to Barma and other field hospitals near Kenema. The death toll was mounting, and there seemed to be no end in sight.

  “Go to Kenema, Lucee. Relax for a few days and escape this horror,” said her supervisor, a strong-willed German doctor in charge of the facility.

  “I know I need it. All these people? The countless others. They need me.”

  “They need you, but I also need you. I want you healthy and well rested. Please go to the city, Lucee. Take a long bath, read a book, or simply catch up on your sleep. Be a woman for a while and escape this dreadfulness. We will still be here when you get back.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  Lucee drove off a few minutes later. There were several groups of fleeing civilians lined along the road. For many, leaving the countryside for sanctuary inside Kenema seemed the only hope. There were doctors in Kenema and plenty of water provided by non-government organizations.