Dead Water

4

Rijah Ellhad had disembarked the plane and walked toward the taxi stand. Before leaving the aircraft, he had donned a disguise. He was now wearing a surfer-style blond-haired wig complete with beard. His dark skin would merely be thought of as a good suntan. He carried with him an old-fashioned army duffel bag. Complementing his appearance, it contained his gear, including his rifle. He hailed a taxi to bring him to a Holiday Inn on the outskirts of Portland, Oregon, a previously chosen meeting place. Room 333. He knocked twice and stepped back. The door opened. He entered, nodding at the swarthy-looking individual who had let him in. The nod was returned. He walked farther into the suite. Sitting around a table were two other men. Both were Iraqi nationals. One was another former member of the Republican Guard; the other had been a senior adviser to Saddam Hussein. All three were part of the group that had abandoned Hussein at the end. The swarthy man had been a member of Saddam's secret police. Assad Bassir, whose specialty was interrogation — or torture — had been recruited.

Jamil Abdul-Nasir rose to greet Ellhad. "You have done well, my brother. Our sources tell us the biological agent surpassed their expectations. No living creature in that lake survived. The speed with which death occurred was not to be believed. Allah has rewarded us for our patience and dedication."

Imad al-Bin agreed. "Yes, good fortune is to be ours. We will avenge Saddam's death at the hands of these infidels."

Rijah Ellhad asked, "When will we have access to the entire shipment?"

"Soon, Rijah, very soon. We needed to verify that it would work as claimed. Now that we have done that, money will be paid, and we should have our weapon within two weeks."

"Have we decided on the target yet?" Ellhad asked.

"No, that will have to be a full-group discussion. That will happen two nights from now at Ryyaki Ali's home." Ali was the acknowledged leader of this particular terrorist cell. They operated independently from anyone else. They had money, worldwide contacts, and a deep, seething hatred for America. They were determined to kill as many as possible. If they lost their own lives in doing so, there would be only honor and glory.

"Inform me of the time," stated Ellhad flatly. He turned and left.

The president's "sword" sat along a table at the Ranch: USMC captain Richard Starr, retired; Sergeant Marvin Styles, USMC Force Recon, retired; Captain James, J. C., Christman, United States Air Force, active; and Darlene Phillips, recently of the CIA. They were located in what was considered their war room. It was where some of the ultrasophisticated computer equipment that Phillips had brought in and installed herself was located. There were eight new LED sixty-inch flat screens mounted along one wall. What Phillips could produce on the large monitors would make a Hollywood special-effects expert jealous. She had earned the respect of the others with her undeniable skills. Myra Banks, head of the CIA's cyber unit, almost had cardiac arrest when President Williams stole Phillips from her group to join the Department of the Presidential Office. Phillips's name was the only one of the four associated with the new agency.

Phillips's fingers started flying over multiple keyboards. After about twenty seconds, she sat back. Images of total devastation filled six of the screens from varying angles and distance.

"Holy shit!" exclaimed J. C.

"You ain't kiddin'," added Styles.

"Phillips, how close is this to real time?" asked Starr.

"We have the same photos that all other agencies have, although they don't know it. Guys, we've got a big problem here. These photos were taken by a drone launched by the CDC. On the far-right screen, you will notice a sequence of stills taken by a Lawrence Larkin, lead on the four-man CDC team that was sent in. Now watch this." Once again, she ran her fingers across one of the keyboards. The two screens on the far left momentarily went blank, and then pictures returned. "Far left shows the lake as it was late afternoon on the day before the kill was discovered. Next to it shows the lake at one hour past dawn the following morning. This entire event happened overnight. I've done some research, and I've found nothing in nature that has even come close to comparing with this. There is no doubt in my mind this was caused by man."

An eerie silence filled the room with only the humming of Phillips's computers heard.

Styles asked, "Is this going where I think you're about to take it?"

"You bet it is. Now, look at this," she said with her fingers back over the keyboard. Then she started to control what appeared to be a video game joystick. Slowly, the image on the left screen began to pan left and up. Then it stopped. Phillips began to slowly zoom in for a closer look. "I'll have to send this to the president. I don't think his people have this."

"Have what?" asked Starr.

"This. Look at the far left. Concentrate. You see that yellow spot?"

"Yeah," the three men answered in unison.

"Keep watching, guys." Slowly, the yellow spot grew, just slightly, but enough to be recognized as a figure wearing yellow.

"Is that someone wearing a hazmat suit?" asked Styles emphatically.

"Gold star for you, Styles. It sure is!"

Starr continued, "Why did you say that the president's people don't have this?"

"'Cause they don't have this program. I designed it, only one in the world. A satellite sends a signal. The signal contains the image. What you normally don't see clearly is the static that surrounds that image. I created a program that can clean up the static. We're the only people on the planet who have this information."

J. C. Christman whistled softly between his teeth. "Jeez, Phillips, that's some damned unreal work you've done here."

"And you boys all thought I was just another pretty face." This brought a round of chuckles from the table.

Styles spoke first. "No, Darlene, you showed us that quite some time ago." He'd used her first name, an unusual occurrence in itself.

"So, for the other two who are not as sharp as Styles here, we have caught someone putting something in that lake, and I'd guess he's testing a bioweapon."

Starr asked, "Where exactly is this lake?"

"In a very remote part of Alaska, which means it's really remote. Only way in or out would be by chopper. I've already got a program running searching the area for any sign of one for two days previous and two days afterward."

"Why only two days?" asked Starr.

"Couple of reasons. Two days seems reasonable to me, plus I'd have to hack into the archives to go any further. Not a big problem, but I've got a feeling we're working in a four-day window. I'll know soon enough."

Starr stood up. "Guess I'd better call the Man. Let him know what you've found."

"I've got a better idea," Phillips said. "Let's show him. I've downloaded this info on an encrypted flash drive. When you see him, call me on a secure line, and I'll give you the code. I can't give it to you now because I designed the code to be a rover. I'll have to run a sequence program, given the time and date, to be able to tell you what it will be at a certain time. No other way to open it. This material is too sensitive to be handled any other way."

"Smart," said Styles.

"I'll go make the call," asserted Starr.