OUTCAST Ops: The Poseidon Initiative

NINE

Hofstad leader Mustapha Aziz Samir was much more at home in the western Sahara desert than he was in the cooler, temperate climes of the Netherlands. Even though to most people this arid, brown coastal village seemed like a lost corner of the Earth that was best to remain that way, to Samir it was home. In a mud-colored stucco abode festooned with satellite dishes and antenna towers, he sat in a darkened room on the second floor, satellite phone in one hand, a TEC-9 automatic rifle leaning against the wall within easy reach. A small table in front of him supported a laptop and a tea setting, and a smattering of simple hand drums lay nearby on the floor — his only concession to entertainment.

He spoke in Dutch to one of his Lieutenants in the Netherlands, Bram Witte. Fifteen years Amir’s junior, he had been recruited to Hofstad while still a teen, his weekly visits to the Mosque initially a harmless venture born of innate curiosity, then transforming into in-depth brainwashing sessions under the guise of religious studies.

“The Hague embassy is still open,” Witte reported.

“Proceed as planned,” Samir commanded, ready to end the call.

“There is more,” his Lieutenant said.

“Tell me.”

“A call was received. An antidote to STX has been developed by a private U.S. lab. They are offering to give us both a batch of working antidote as well as the formula for $10,000 U.S. dollars.”

Samir asked why it was so cheap.

“They say they the amount covers development costs only. They want us to have it, to prevent more deaths. They have proposed a meeting place.”

“Where?”

“Charleston, South Carolina.”

Samir thought about this location. East coast, but not close to the seat of power, Washington, D.C. But not all that far, really, either.

Witte asked him if he wanted to act.

“Yes. But only in such a way as it does not impact the next strike team. And send no one higher than Tier 2.”

“Understood.” Witte signed off.

Samir smiled, tenting his hands. Could it be a trap? Yes. He was not still alive after leading his jihad-style group for almost three decades without equal doses of wariness, extra-caution and paranoia. But that is what expendable warriors eager for the endless virgins in the afterlife were for.