BioKill (13 page)

Yusuf was handing over the second can when a loud voice barked out, obviously directed at them. Both men froze; they knew they’d been caught. Yusuf was the first to run, his flight spurring Bashir, who leapt up the wooden rails, sending muck flying in all directions before jumping to the ground and hurtling after Yusuf. They ran as they had never run before, bouncing off parked cars, gravel spraying up from their feet, towards the only place of safety they knew, the Ford Explorer.

Bomani watched as the boys ran towards him. In his chaotic flight to the Ford, Yusuf tripped tumbling head first, the palms of his hands taking the brunt of the landing on the gravel parking lot. Without wasting an iota of time he regained his feet and continued the remaining few yards to the vehicle. He yanked open the door and flung himself into the rear seat. Bashir was close behind. Bomani gunned the Ford, sending dust and gravel into nearby vehicles.

“Did you do it? Did you carry out the mission?” Bomani yelled as he spun the steering wheel. “Speak to me!”

Panting with adrenalin-inspired exhaustion and trying to retain his seat in the fast turning vehicle, Bashir told him the can had failed to spray and they had been discovered. He cringed, anticipating the reaction. There was an ominous silence.

The Ford shuddered as it left the gravel and over the guttering onto the seal road. Bomani put his contingency plan into effect, following the directions from the GPS unit on the dashboard. He didn’t speak to his traveling companions, his face expressionless. The coldness and continued silence made the two young men uneasy. Bashir glanced towards Yusuf, who had tucked himself up in a ball. Hugging his legs and leaning against the door, he gazed into the distance.

Chapter Eighteen

The report was
marked urgent. It was handed to Director Hall who placed his glasses on and read the information sent from the Police Commissioner of New Jersey. The news was bittersweet. Removing his glasses he rubbed his forehead, pressing his thumb hard into the spot between his eyes as if he had a powerful migraine, which at that moment he didn’t. Not yet. Hall dialed the number on the report for Mainway’s Auctioneers.

“Mainway’s Auctioneers, Josie speaking, how may I help you?”

“Josie, my name is Allan Hall, Homeland Security. I believe your employer is a Mr. Bill Lomas. May I speak to him please, this is an urgent matter.”

“I’ll just have someone page him for you, one moment please.” Josie laid the phone down on her desk. For a few seconds she stared at it, trying to fathom out if the call was legitimate or not.
Homeland Security phoning here!
Josie knew Big Bill had called the number on the email he received about suspicious behavior so she wouldn’t have been surprised to see or hear from the local police.
But Homeland Security!
Josie stood up and walked to the door, where she leaned on the frame and looked around for Big Bill.

On the other end of the line a loud thudding came through the receiver. Director Hall heard the phone laid down on presumably a desk, then a screech of a chair on what sounded like wooden floorboards. “Bill, over here, you’re wanted on the phone.”

That’ll be their paging service
, he surmised.

“Tell ’em I’m busy and take a number,” yelled Big Bill.

“Think you ought to take it, Bill, the guy said he was from Homeland Security.”

“Homeland… what the… I better take this, boys,” Bill said to a couple of the auction staff.

Big Bill stepped into the office and whispered to Josie, “You sure? Homeland Security, not Inox police?

“That’s what he said,” Josie whispered back.

Clearing his throat, Big Bill picked up the phone. “Howdy, Bill Lomas, what can I do for you?”

“Bill, my name is Director Allan Hall, I understand you had a bit of a skirmish a short while ago. Tell me what happened.”

“Yessir, of course.” Big Bill reached for a chair; he needed to sit down for this. “Well, two of my boys caught this cow botherer in one of the yards out back.”

“Cow botherer?”

“Yeah, you know, one of those people who… well, just like the email said, we were to look out for suspicious behavior and some Arab blokes in our yards with our cows just didn’t seem right, if you know what I mean.”

“Arab men?”

“Yep, that’s what the boys said, there were two Arab-looking men and a getaway driver. What the hell is going on… I mean maybe once in a blue moon you might get a cow botherer, but two together…”

“Mr. Lomas, were they seen doing anything and I don’t mean screwing cows, were they doing anything else?”

“Well, they didn’t actually see anything. All the Arab in the yard had time for was trying to reach out and touch the cattle.”

“Anything in the man’s hands?”

“Boys didn’t say. I can go ask them if you like?”

“Later. What about the car they drove, did you get a description?”

“Sure did, it was a green Ford Explorer, older model. Didn’t get the plates though.”

“Now think hard, Mr. Lomas, anything else your boys noticed? No matter how small.”

“Well now… when you say small… There was something — a couple of spray cans. They were definitely outta place, you know — so we figured they must have been dropped when Joe and Danny spooked ’em.”

Hall shut his eyes, this time he could actually feel a pain in his head coming on. Spray cans. It sounded as if it was already too late and the infection had been released. “Describe the cans.”

“The boys told me they just chucked ’em in the bin. Deodorant — which is a joke — they were covered in muck and stunk something awful.”

“Mr. Lomas, this is very important. I need you to do exactly as I say. Lock down the auction now. Not a single animal leaves, not… a… single… animal. Do it right now, tell the lady with you to give those instructions to your employees. You remain on the phone.”

Josie couldn’t hear the conversation but she saw her boss drop his jaw, his mouth remained open as he swung around. She listened as Big Bill told her where to go and what to do. He clicked a finger and sent an index finger pointing towards the door.
Do it NOW.

“OK sir, I… I have someone doing that.”

“Good, now this is what else you have to do…”

When Bill Lomas finally did get off the phone he understood exactly what he had to do and how to do it. He’d been told the local police would be the first on the scene, followed by Homeland Security. He was cautioned to remain tight-lipped about any suspicions he might have regarding what this was all about, as even the police didn’t know. He gave his word.

Chapter Nineteen

174th Fighter Wing,
Hancock Field Ground Control Station, Syracuse, was approximately one hundred and fifty miles north-northwest of Albany.

“You are cleared for take-off.”

“Roger, tower.”

The pilot increased ground speed before easing back the joystick. Once off the ground he sat more comfortably in his leather armchair. “This mission is a bit different, makes a change from going to Afghanistan. Deborah wants me to go out tonight to her parents’ place.”

“So, you’d be looking forward to that then?” the Sensor Operator said, sipping his cappuccino.

“I’ve been out twice this week already, once to a damn ballet and then one of the kids had a birthday party to go to. How are the computer diagnostics reading?”

“Reading AOK. Optics looking good, cloud cover minimal. It’s a beautiful day out there.”

The MQ-9 Reaper drone maneuvered around and headed for Inox. At a cruising speed of around two hundred and thirty miles per hour, the unmanned aircraft’s destination was less than one hour away.

“A green Ford Explorer. The call came from Homeland — it must be one hell of a high priority for us to be called in.”

*

Directors Hall and Lopez studied the large map on the wall. Lopez drew an imaginary circle around Inox. “New Jersey state and local police are placing road blocks on all major roads within this area. They’re also targeting all other known livestock auction centers, as well as slaughterhouses, within a hundred-mile radius of Inox.”

“Good,” said Hall. “I’ve sent a chopper with a biohazard expert to Inox to neutralize the two discarded cans and take them directly to Plum Island for diagnostics. Inox police have placed a non-movement order on the remaining livestock at the auction yards, while Plum is sending out a team to see if we have an outbreak of the virus, and organize any necessary countermeasures if we do. One small consolation is that the owner of the auction business says there were no cattle transported after they had the run-in with our Arabs, as he calls them.”

“At least that’s a small mercy.” Lopez sounded pleased. “Any more news on the terrorist cell?”

“Nothing. Lilburn and his team are on their way to Inox by chopper and the drone should be searching for the cell any moment now.”

“Sir.” A staffer approached.

“Yes.”

“We have live feed up on the screens from Reaper, sir.”

“Very good, thank you. I want two personnel watching the feed at all times.” The staffer acknowledged and left.

“What’s your gut feeling, Suzanna, do you think we’ll get lucky or do you think the US now has foot-and-mouth?” Hall lowered his voice as he spoke. “Are we going to be winners or losers?”

Lopez stared down at her feet then lifted her head. Looking into Hall’s hard eyes, she could almost see her own reflection. “There won’t be any winners after this has finished. Just losers.” Lopez turned abruptly and walked over towards the monitor with the live stream from the Reaper.

Hall was bemused; her reply had been unexpected, and not what he would have picked. Suzanna Lopez was an incredibly ambitious woman who had succeeded in what was very much a male domain. It hadn’t been easy but she had paid her dues and overcome, outwitted or outgunned a lot of criticism and negative response to rise to her current position. Hall narrowed his eyes, and nodded to himself, before joining her at the live stream.

Once it arrived at its destination, high above the cattle yards at Inox, the Reaper began a systematic search. The images it sent back were carefully studied at two separate locations. The team at Homeland could see when the sensor operator at Syracuse, guiding the camera, spotted any vehicle or point of interest on the ground, as the camera zoomed in for closer inspection. The next twenty-five minutes clicked slowly by; minute by minute.

“Sir, ma’am, possible target identified.”

Hall reacted to the message quickly and came up behind the two seated men, who never took their eyes off the screen. One had a phone headset, in direct contact with the sensor operator at Syracuse. The vehicle matched the description of the suspect vehicle perfectly. The camera focused on the four-wheel drive as it sped westward away from Inox, along a gravel road and sending up a cloud of dust.

“Someone show me on the map exactly where they are,” demanded Hall.

“Right here, sir.”

“Do we know one hundred percent that’s our target?

“No, sir.”

It was a familiar dilemma. Put valuable strategic resources into this vehicle or hold off and wait for further confirmation of the target’s identity?

“Is that Syracuse you have on the phone?”

“Yes, sir.”

Hall took the man’s headset. “Director Hall. Can you get in closer so we can see the occupants?”

“We’ll see what we can do, sir.” Hall could hear the operator giving instructions to the pilot in the background. “Going in closer now, sir.”

Hall handed the headset back to the staffer.

“But is that our vehicle?” asked Lopez.

“Could be, the drone’s going in for a closer look. Lilburn and his team will still be about ten minutes away. That vehicle is sure going like a bat out of hell. There are cattle ranches right through this area, any place they could pull over, stop, lean over a fence and release the virus into the face of a cow. You know I…”

“Wow!” One of the watchers reeled back in surprise. “Holy shit, did you see that?”

Everyone’s concentration returned to the live feed. The Ford Explorer had spun around and around on the gravel road before coming to a halt, enveloped in a cloud of thick dust.

“What the hell just happened?” Hall bellowed.

“A small tractor pulled out onto the road from nowhere, sir. The subject vehicle had no chance to avoid it and clipped the front before going into those three-sixty spins. Last I saw of the tractor before it was obscured by the dust, it was going over.”

The team gathered around the live feed could barely see — the dust was only just starting to settle. The Reaper pilot had now put the drone into as tight a pattern as he could. The accident scene began to appear. The Ford had remained upright and come to a complete halt, facing the way it had come and by pure good fortune, still on the road. The tractor was lying on its side. A person could be seen in a spasmodic run heading for the Ford and away from the tractor. The running man made it to the vehicle, everyone saw him bend down and look inside. The man suddenly stepped back away from the Ford, his actions stiff, unnatural. He turned, then started running back the way he came but fell down flat on his face. He didn’t move.

There was a sharp intake of breath, then Lopez gasped. “I think he’s been shot!”

The operations room at Homeland went quiet. No one other than the four around the live screen had seen the event but most heard Director Lopez.

The driver’s door of the Ford opened and a figure got out. The individual moved over to the man lying face down on the road, a pistol could be seen pointing at the man.

It wasn’t discernible if the weapon bucked in his hand or not, but the general consensus was they had just witnessed a
coup de grâce
. Two other individuals exited the Ford and could be seen walking towards the executioner. They gathered the body up and disposed of it unceremoniously, off to the side of the road. One of the two men stood in the road and looked up to the sky. He seemed to be gathering his thoughts, his eyes closed.

Director Hall jumped at the opportunity. “Get facial recog on him! Looks like one of the two we’re after!

“What are you going to do now, Allan?”

Hall didn’t even look at her. “One Hellfire missile from the drone should do the trick, all over, end of story.”

“No… you can’t.”

Hall looked daggers at Director Lopez, who quickly qualified her response. “You can’t blow them up, the virus would become airborne.”

“Absolutely correct, Director Lopez.” Dr. Crawston made her way to the two directors. “Any release of the virus into the atmosphere, especially in the form of a pressurized spray, could be catastrophic. The virus can travel thirty-five miles or more over land.”

“Thank you, Dr. Crawston. We won’t be blowing them sky-high just yet, Allan.” Lopez looked triumphant.

“Sir, confirmation of facial recognition, the person is Yusuf al-Nasseri.”

“That’s one of our two terrorists.” Hall looked pleased to move on. “Get me Matt Lilburn.”

Matt Lilburn, flying en-route with three other heavily armed members of the interception team, took the call. The instructions were clear and precise. Lilburn passed the location to the pilot, then briefed the men. Five minutes to target.

*

Bomani looked into his side mirror, looking back on the roadside carnage he had just left, dust from his moving vehicle now obscuring most of the scene. It was unfortunate for the farmer that he drove his tractor into the road without looking for traffic, a mistake he would never make again. Bomani’s mobile phone rang, he glanced at the screen. “Yes.” The conversation was short and one sided. He ended the call without saying another word.

Yusuf and Bashir, watching silently from the back seat, could see that Bomani was troubled. Bomani looked upwards then brought the Ford to a stop. They watched intently as he entered a name into the GPS mounted on the dash. With a few more taps of his finger a line appeared on the screen. The line started from Albany and went directly to their own position.

The Ford Explorer didn’t stop at the wooden roadside gate leading into a grassed field; it plowed on through the gate splintering around it. Fifty yards away was a group of trees with large high canopies. Bomani chose his angle of entry carefully and brought the vehicle to a halt just out of view from the air. He told his passengers to leave the vehicle and lie down on the ground beside the Ford. Yusuf and Bashir did as they were told. Bomani remained inside the vehicle and crawled over the seats, pushing and pulling himself to the back of the vehicle, where he pushed a button and folded one half of the rear seat up then the other, giving himself more room to move. From the inside, he opened up the rear door. Unzipping the long nylon case he had stored in the back, he pulled out the sleek lines of a bolt action rifle with mounted scope. Making himself comfortable on the floor, he rested his back on the upturned seats and brought his knees up for support. Bomani looked through the scope and flicked the weapons safety off. He waited.

*

“Matt, the vehicle is stationary under some trees two clicks directly to your front in a field, we’re sending the coordinates to the pilot now.”

The pilot locked in the coordinates and could see the group of trees in the distance. “That’s their location, under those trees — just one click away.”

Lilburn studied the terrain and the situation. The vehicle appeared to be hiding in a field under trees, for what reason remained unclear. Off the road and in a field gave his team the edge, maneuverability would be harder for the vehicle on grass compared to the road, there were obstacles in and around fields, fences, ditches, so why would the driver go off road? Lilburn wished he had more information from the drone. It just didn’t add up.
Why?

“Half a click till RV. Where would you like me to put Gracie down?”

From five hundred feet up, Gracie’s occupants could make out the outline of the rear of the Ford Explorer under the canopy. Lilburn saw the rear door was open.
Uh-oh. I don’t like this, I
don’t like any of this…
the hairs on his neck stood on end.

“Change course, change course!” Lilburn yelled.

The first bullet struck the EC120 helicopter a glancing blow by the pilot’s feet, punching a hole in the windshield then traveled into the cockpit and embedded itself in the pilot’s seat. The pilot felt the impact. In the short time he had to react and take evasive action, the bolt on the rifle had opened, ejected the spent cartridge and loaded a live round into the chamber. The second round fired from the back of the Ford Explorer was more deadly, its trajectory ending up in the pilot’s left upper arm, mincing flesh. The pilot screamed out in agony as his body contorted. As his right hand involuntarily let go of the cyclic stick his knees knocked it, causing the helicopter to violently pitch and yaw out of control.

The pain was intense, so much so all self-preservation was lost as he had no choice but to ride where the pain took him. The pilot’s hands had closed tight as he struggled to override his natural inclination to roll up into a ball. A voice next to him was shouting, the shouting gradually penetrated his world of pain, and he understood what was being said.
Get control, get control!
Expert training kicked in and the pilot began to override his own body; grabbing the cyclic stick and applying pressure to the correct pedals, he leveled off.

Grunting with pain, he gasped: “I have to land this thing unless you can fly a helicopter?”

There was little Lilburn could do. “Best you land then. You going to be OK?”

“Yeah… aw shit that hurts. We still have forward momentum so things could be worse. The landing… Jesus… the landing may be a bit rough. Gracie baby — bring us down.”

The pilot let Albany know the predicament and grid reference then took the helicopter down. Lilburn watched as the pilot used his knees to control the cyclic stick while adjusting the collective with his good arm. Descending as quickly as he could, the pilot felt lightheaded, shock was starting to set in. Expertly judging his moves, he again juggled the cyclic while reaching across and down to the collective. “Hang on, boys.”

The helicopter hit the ground much harder than normal; the skids absorbed the shock of a more than usually abrupt landing but to the relief of everyone on board, the craft remained upright. The pilot shut the controls down, his job over. “Good girl.”

*

Bomani watched as his second shot appeared to fatally wound the helicopter flying directly towards him. He watched his handiwork as the helicopter swung wildly this way and that, then drilled down to the ground, the final impact obstructed by the contour of the land. The helicopter was one thing to take out, it had presented no difficulty. The drone overhead locked on to his position was another.