“Where was the hospital?”
“About forty minutes north of us. A small village named Barma. What do you do for a living, Michael?”
“I am a freelance reporter from Atlanta, Georgia. I write mostly for CNN.com and the Economist. Now you have me curious. Has this ever happened before?”
“No. Never.”
“Is the staff at Barma sure it was stolen? Maybe it was temporarily misplaced or simply lost?”
“They are certain. The procedures for handling infected blood are stringent. No one there would have a reason to take it.”
“This could be a story, Lucee. Do you think the doctors in Barma would speak to me about this?”
Lucee paused for a moment.
“I’m not sure. There are some who are worried it will get out and cause panic with the villagers there.”
“Lucee, I would really like to look into this. Could you possibly make an introduction with someone at Barma?”
“Sure. I can try calling the director at the field hospital. She might be willing to speak with you. However, you will likely have to promise the story is not published soon.”
“If they confirm, I can hold the story for a month.”
“Okay. I will leave you a message at the front desk in the morning.”
“Thank you, Lucee.”
About an hour into his dinner, Michael needed to excuse himself.
“Lucee, I have some work I need to finish. It has been a pleasure speaking with you this evening. I will look for a message from you in the morning.”
“Likewise, Michael. I should have something for you by nine.”
“Goodnight, Lucee.”
Kenema Mosque, Kenema, Sierra Leone - November 8, 8:10 PM
Michael arrived at the intersection where the Mosque stood. He continued driving south and saw no signs of activity. There were no lights were visible from the building where satellite imagery captured the complex just a few days before. Strange, he thought to himself.
He pulled into the abandoned parking lot. The only sounds he heard were from nearby dogs howling at the clear night sky. It was too quiet for Michael. The Kenema Mosque was the largest Mosque in the city, and he fully expected stragglers from evening prayers or organized groups meeting inside the sacred dwelling.
Michael decided to exit his SUV and have a look around. He was in unfamiliar territory and recalled seeing a group of local men walking toward the intersection as he passed by. Michael was on his own and had no support. He wished Elif and Nanook were with him.
Michael turned around the corner of the building and made his way toward the front entrance of the Mosque. There, he passed through the beautiful sahn, a courtyard filled with a water cascade which welcomed its patrons. The water was symbolic for ritual cleansing before prayer.
Michael looked upward and saw the minaret, a tower adjacent to the Mosque used to call for prayer. The spiral structure served as a commanding reminder of the Islamic faith. This was a beautiful place to worship.
The locked doors served as a clear indication that the Mosque was no longer open for business. Michael decided to knock on the door anyway.
Nothing. He knocked again. The door opened as Michael turned away. An older man stood at the door.
“Hello. I am sorry to disturb you this evening. I am a reporter and seeking an interview with Sheikh Sahr Cissi. Is he available?”
“I am afraid we are closed.”
“May I return in the morning?”
“No, sir. The Mosque will remain closed for two days for renovations. You may come back Monday.”
“Will the Sheikh be available Monday?”
“No, sir. He has meetings to tend to all week. Do you have a business card?”
Michael handed the man his card and the doors closed quickly behind him. Michael thought the timing of the Sheikh’s absence to be unusual. If he was indeed aware of the plot or personally involved, now would be the time to slip away from public view for a few days. On the other hand, there was always the chance the Mosque needed renovation. Either way, the timing troubled him. Michael had to find the Sheikh quickly.
Twenty minutes later Michael returned to his suite. He pulled out his laptop and provided Langley with a quick update.
Sheikh Cissi does not appear to be at his Mosque. Apparently, the Mosque is undergoing renovation. Will return onsite tomorrow afternoon to confirm. Spoke with a local NGO representative earlier. She indicated that several vials of blood which tested positive for Ebola are missing from a field hospital in Barma. Source indicates staff at Barma are certain it was not lost or misplaced. Source appears reliable. Plan to check in the morning. Request additional support from Freetown to determine whereabouts of the Sheikh.
Michael finished his summary and drifted to sleep. He was still feeling the effects of the trip from Hatay. Tomorrow, there would be much work to do.
Capitol Hotel, Kenema, Sierra Leone - November 9, 8:58 AM
The early morning sun radiated its light into the hotel’s lobby. Michael exited the elevator and made his way toward the front desk. Guests mingled around the Capitol’s lobby as they waited for their taxis. Michael discerned many to be medical professionals based on their wardrobe and baggage.
“Good morning, sir. Do you have a message for Michael Brennan?”
“Yes, sir. The lady is waiting for you over there.”
Michael turned toward the restaurant and saw Lucee sipping a cup of local coffee. The fresh mango picked earlier in the morning was nearly finished. She smiled and motioned him to join her.
“Good morning, Michael.”
“Hi, Lucee. Good morning to you as well.”
“You have permission to speak with the hospital’s director. You will meet her at ten-thirty AM. May I travel with you to Barma? I can tell you more about my wonderful country.”
“I would like that very much. What about taking a few days off?”
“I am already bored. I will return to the pool this afternoon. The journey to Barma will not be long.”
“Okay. Let’s go.”
The short trip north to the field hospital offered Michael a fresh perspective of Sierra Leone. The country, ravaged by Ebola and civil war, was actually plush with tropical rainforests, home to countless wild animals, and the beaches were some of the best in the world. Sierra Leone was an undiscovered paradise.
Until they arrived at Barma.
Lucee pulled the vehicle into the designated staff parking area. The slight breeze coming from the east drew the aroma of dead bodies with it. Michael noticed it right away. Up ahead, he detected the ambulance and four medical staff standing at the rear doors.
A mother and three children just exited the ambulance. The medical staff had to assist the woman, as she appeared weak and unable to stand on her own. Michael suspected she had Ebola, along with the children.
“Mr. Brennan. I may not have much time to speak with you. We are expecting several ambulances this morning and our staff is thin,” said the director.
“Thank you, Dr. Engel.”
Michael flashed his CNN credentials and the two sat down.
“So, Lucee tells me you are working on a story about Ebola?”
“Yes, we understand the virus continues to spread across the entire region. Why is this occurring?”
“There are many factors. First, there is a lack of education on exactly how the virus transmits from one person to another. People in rural areas do not understand the risks and factors associated with the disease. Another problem commonly found in rural areas is the tradition of touching the dead before burial ceremonies. We have employees like Lucee who comb the countryside informing people of this, but the vast distances make it nearly impossible to educate everyone with the staff we have. Finally, many rural villagers have limited access to drinkable water. When infection occurs, a person must be
fully hydrated and in a hospital to have a chance.”
“How large is your staff?” asked Michael.
“We have nine doctors here, including me. We lost several more to the disease in just the last few months.”
“What do you need to have a chance to curb the spread of Ebola?”
“More staff to educate the villagers who are isolated by remote distances. We need more field hospitals. Sierra Leone does not have the infrastructure to handle the outbreak.”
“Lucee mentioned you had several vials of blood go missing. Have you recovered them or are they lost?”
“It was stolen, Mr. Brennan. I would appreciate it if you did not include that in your report. It would cause undue panic here in Barma and spread to cities such as Kenema and Hangha.”
“I can hold off for a few weeks, but this is an important development. Why would someone do that?”
“I have no idea. It makes no sense to me. If I had to guess, the person or individuals responsible, plans to sell it to a pharmaceutical company to develop a vaccine.”
“Would someone have to steal it?”
“Yes. The protocols on handling infected blood are massive. Only a few companies would have access to it.”
“Have you introduced new security procedures to prevent this from happening again?”
“Look around, Mr. Brennan. We have no funds for that and our focus is on patient care.”
“Thank you very much, Dr. Engel. May I have a look around with Lucee?”
“Not today, we are too busy, and the entire staff is working with patients right now.”
“May I return in a few days?” asked Michael, though he had no intention of following up.
“Let us see, Mr. Brennan. At the rate we are going, we may be too overwhelmed.”
Michael and Lucee soon departed. He acquired the intelligence he needed. There was little doubt in his mind that Islamic State was likely behind the stolen blood. The pieces were coming together, but he required confirmation. Sheikh Cissi had to be found right away.
INR Headquarters, Washington, D.C. - November 9, 9:30 AM
“Leslie, can you come over to my office?”
“On my way, Joe.”
Leslie arrived minutes later and heard the news.
“Good morning, Leslie. We got Intel last night that some infected blood is missing from a field hospital outside Barma, Sierra Leone. The source reported to a NOC at CIA that it is highly unlikely the blood was lost.”
“Infected with Ebola?”
“Correct. CIA is going to confirm this morning and enter the information into the database. You should see the report as soon as it is released.”
“So, it could be true? Islamic State may be trying to introduce the Ebola virus into the country.”
“Maybe. We have to get confirmation first before we go further. Nevertheless, we have to prepare assessments and develop scenarios. You need to prepare for a possible briefing to the National Security Council as soon as we get confirmation, if at all.”
“Will do. When do we expect the report to be ready?”
“No idea. I spoke to a colleague at CIA who said they would enter into the information into the database when they got the Intel. In the meantime, proceed as if the information is credible and confirmed.”
“Yes, sir.”
Leslie raced back to her office and assembled her analytical team.
“We may see a report this afternoon that confirms missing blood from a field hospital in Sierra Leone. The blood is infected with Ebola.”
“Dear Lord in heaven,” said Jeremy.
“Dear Lord is right, Jeremy. All our work going forward will focus on scenarios. I don’t want any work done on the national intelligence estimate requested by DOD and no support for routine reports. The only thing I care about is how someone would deliver the blood to the United States. I want an update to your scenarios by eleven-thirty this morning. Jordan, order us some lunch. Here is my credit card.”
Leslie ended the short meeting. Her team would now focus on the task of developing credible courses of action for Islamic State. She picked up the phone and called Kerry at NCMI.
“Hey, Kerry. I may have to brief NSC soon. Can you join me in case some detailed medical questions come up about Ebola?”
“Uh sure, I have to clear it with my boss. Do you have more information on that plot we spoke about?”
“Yes. I will have to get you cleared, first.”
Kerry held a top-secret clearance with several code words as an analyst with NCMI. Leslie believed her boss would have no issues with the request.
“I will see you later; do not wait up for me.”
Leslie hung up and began to red team. She promised herself she would examine all courses of action despite how insane they might sound to the NSC staff.
Office of Internal Investigations, NYC Police Department – November 9, 10:00 AM
Peter Marsico stood at attention and prepared to hear his fate.
“Officer Marsico. This panel has concluded your actions on November 6 were beyond your scope of responsibilities. The actions you took were reckless, and you should have waited for a negotiator. It is our belief that a negotiator would have calmed the individual down resulting in the release of his hostage. However, given your spotless record and selfless service to the police department and the community, we believe a short suspension is more appropriate. You will forfeit two weeks of pay, and return to full duty on November twenty-third. The infraction will go into your personnel file and will be considered upon any future promotions. This hearing is concluded.”
Peter saluted the panel and promptly left the building. Maybe a two-week vacation will do him some good, he thought to himself. Peter felt betrayed by the panel despite the short suspension.
A daytime visit to McMahon’s Ale House, a popular watering hole in Brooklyn, New York, was in order. He wondered how many fellow officers from the Brooklyn borough might be there.
United States Embassy, Freetown, Sierra Leone – November 9, 10:36 PM
“Ma’am, I just received a report from one of our sources working at the Radisson Blu Mammy Yoko Hotel here in Freetown. A group of four men arrived yesterday afternoon. They are from Kenema. The credit card on file with the hotel is registered with the Kenema Mosque.”
“Thanks, Pat. Any idea who the four men are?”
“He did not know. He just said it was the talk of the hotel. Apparently, the room has had many visitors, if you catch my drift?”
“Women, Pat?”
“Yes, quite a few of them and housekeeping said the place was a mess this morning.”
Brittany Stonebridge, the deputy chief of station for CIA in Sierra Leone, was not surprised. What caught her attention, however, was the credit card used for the suite. This might be the information her boss was looking for.
Brittany, a career CIA officer, was on station in Sierra Leone for two years. After battling skin cancer for three years before the assignment, the strong woman, and mother of four children, resumed her duties and her career thrived.
“Pat, how long are they staying?”
“They booked an executive suite for three days.”
“What is the suite number?”
“Five-nineteen.”
Brittany left her desk and entered Zach Thompson’s office. Zach, the chief of station for CIA in Freetown, welcomed her in.
“Zach, looks like we got possible Intel on the Sheikh.”
“What do you have?”
“Looks like four men checked into the Radisson Blu Mammy on Lumley beach. The card used to pay for the room belongs to the Kenema Mosque. It is an executive suite.”
“Interesting. Think Sheikh Cissi is located there?”
“No way to tell now, Zach. The executive suite fits the profile. We will have to take a tea
m there and find out for ourselves.”
Zach smiled.
“What are you waiting for?”
Brittany left the office and gathered two of her officers. The trip to the Radisson would only take twenty minutes unless the group got mired in traffic.
A short while later, Zach called Doug Weatherbee.
“Doug, we might have the Sheikh located here in Freetown. A group checked in yesterday and paid for the rooms via a credit card registered to Kenema Mosque. I have a few people heading there now to confirm. If he is here, what would you like us to do?”
“Grab him and get him to the site we spoke of. If it is him, I want my man to question him.”
“Do we have authorization for a rendition, Doug?”
“Yes, I had it approved this morning, just in case.”
“Is he still in Kenema?”
“Yes, he is looking into a few things. He was just at the Mosque last night, and it was empty.”
“Okay. I will update you when I know something.”
Zach picked up his cell phone and texted Brittany right away. It simply read, capture the Sheikh if possible. Rendition authorized.
Brittany’s team arrived at the Blu Mammy Yoko hotel. It was a breathtaking beachfront luxury resort sitting on pristine beaches with sparkling sand and clear blue waters. The hotel catered to the wealthy and elite businesspeople traveling into Freetown.
She entered through the front and made her way to the escalator.
Brittany led her two officers as she made the left turn on the fifth floor. Room 519 became visible a few moments later and Brittany knocked on the door.
“Good morning, I am with the United States Agency for International Development (USAID) here in Freetown. One of our guests staying here said she thought she recognized Sheikh Cissi from Kenema. He is apparently a kind and generous man focused on ending poverty in the region. I was wondering if I could speak with him for a few minutes about a project we would like to pursue in Kenema soon?”
“The Sheikh is not here. He is in Kenema.”
Into The Shadows Page 18