“Do you think they would do that?” Doc Cohen asked. Dillon didn’t like seeing Doc lose his faith in the U.S. government, but it probably needed to happen sooner rather than later.
“I do.” said the Director. “They can’t be producing enough vaccine yet, and they know we would have no way of distributing it to thousands of ex-pats throughout the Middle East. There are probably fifty thousand ex-pats in Saudi alone. Then, you have the dual citizens. Think of how many people living in Israel and Lebanon carry dual citizenship. They will all be left hanging out to dry. Good news is that the military probably received the vaccine already.”
“Well, I should call Bryce and see what we need to do.”
The Senior Agent in Charge, or SAC, was Bryce Monroe. He was a solid agent in his late forties with fifteen years on the job. Before joining D.S., Bryce had been a Detective with the Seattle Police Department and a Major in the Washington State National Guard. Bryce lived in Zamalek, a mile from the Embassy, and had taken on the responsibility to manage the security program there.
The other agent, Kim White, had nine years on the job, and was competent but a little excitable – which Dillon found unfortunate but expected given the apocalyptic situation that was unfolding. Kim had served as an U.S. Navy intelligence officer and then an NCIS Agent before coming on with D.S. Kim had left for Alexandria on February 12th to see to the safety of American citizens and U.S. Consulate employees there.
Dillon, with four years on the job, was the junior agent. He was forty two years old and had joined D.S. after a twenty year career that had begun in 1994 with the 75th Ranger Battalion and had ended as a Sergeant First Class, Operational Detachment Alpha 24, Bravo Company, Second Battalion, 5th Special Forces Group. Though he was probably the most tactically proficient of the three, he was still learning how to navigate the bureaucracy of the State Department. Dillon would be assigned to the suburb of Maadi, ten miles south of downtown Cairo. Most of the American and British citizens living in Cairo (of which there were upwards of five thousand) lived in Maadi, with U.S. Embassy employees living in two walled apartment compounds, called “the 505” and “the 611” because of their street addresses.
“Okay, Dillon, stay in touch.”
Bryce waited until he was in the duty vehicle before placing the call.
“Bryce, it’s Dillon.”
“Well, that was some serious bad news, wasn’t it? I know what you’re thinking. I’ve already talked to the Ambassador about suspending consular operations and shutting the Embassy. I also talked to him about temporary relocation of all assets to Maadi in preparation for evacuation.”
“What did he say about that?”
“No. He said no. Actually, that was the closest his Harvard ass probably ever came to swearing.”
“Great. What’s the plan, then?”
“I stay up here, you stay down there. GSO says they are sending Rick down to work out of US AID. He’ll be able to tell you how many FAVs we have.” Rick was one of the General Services Officers, in charge of things like travel, motor pool, housing, and furniture for the U.S. Embassy. Dillon knew him and liked him. Rick was a single guy in his early thirties who had worked as a New York Firefighter until he joined the State Department two years ago. Dillon knew there were a few dozen Fully Armored Vehicles in the inventory, his duty vehicle was an FAV Chevy Suburban. There were only a few larger vans, though. Getting everyone out would require multiple trips.
“Rick’s a good choice, I can work with him. Keep your head down up there, Bryce.”
“Always. You too.”
“Will do. Do you have anything else for me?”
“I’m guessing we’re looking at Cyprus, same as during the revolutions. I’ll reach out to the RSO there. He’s a classmate of mine, John Mitchell. Good guy.”
“Good to hear. I’ll standby to standby.”
Bryce laughed. “You do that. Keep in touch.”
In D.S. circles, with only a thousand or so agents in the world, you got to know everyone (at least by reputation) fairly quickly. There were two different categories. An agent could be described as a good guy or described as okay. Dillon hoped Bryce described HIM as a good guy when he talked about him.
He took a second to put on a confident smile and collect his thoughts before he went to check on things at the 505.
The virus mutated, as viruses are want to do.
On February 10th, flu season finally fell upon the United States, and the resultant hybrid virus, known as the KSROR-Z virus (Ketosis Storm Rapid Onset Rabies – Zombie Virus) hit the world like a thunderclap. Quickly overstimulating the immune systems of the infected, this virus caused the body to destroy itself in an attempt to fight off the foreign invader. By February 13th, the United States and Canada had seen the infection, of approximately thirty million infected. The U.S. government withdrew to areas of cantonment and gave up trying to safeguard all but the barest remnants of itself by February 17th, 2016. Most of Europe, save Switzerland, Iceland, and the most northern parts of Russia, Finland, Norway, and Sweden, went dark soon after, a victim of rioting and chaos as much as infection. The rest of the world braced for the worst as best as it could.
Dillon braced with the rest of the world. The first cases of the virus were reported in Alexandria and Suez on the 11
th
. The infected were Syrian refugees, and they had likely gone unnoticed by the Egyptian Ministry of Health. By the 12
th
, Cairo had cases reported in several of the less affluent areas.
Worse yet, several imams and a few government officials were saying that this was an American disease, a Western disease sent by Allah to punish the sinful western world. American ex-pats were streaming to the Embassy to ask for protection, but there was none to give them. Americans in Maadi were being refused service in local restaurants, and a few were attacked by frightened locals who were setting up neighborhood checkpoints and questioning anyone who didn’t obviously belong. CAS closed, announcing that classes would continue on line. They had done this during the last revolution.
A navy helicopter delivered four crates of equipment and one crate of vaccine to Cairo West Airbase on the 13
th
of February. The U.S. military personnel and contractors stationed there to train the Egyptian Air force in the piloting and maintenance of Apache helicopters were quietly preparing to bug out. Dillon had to bribe the Egyptian Army Captain at one checkpoint to be allowed to exit the highway and return to Maadi. It only cost him 200 Egyptian Pounds, which was around 30 dollars.
The crates were for the U.S. Embassy Marine Security Guards, and contained a total of 10 Heckler & Koch MP-5 submachine guns and 60 thirty round box magazines. Another crate contained 2000 rounds of 9mm ammunition.
“Shit, they could have loaded the damned mags.” Dillon said to himself. Still, he was glad that they had thought to send some firepower.
Dillon knew he would be up all night loading magazines. He called Bryce to tell him about the weapons.
“RSO office, Agent Monroe speaking.”
“Bryce, it’s Dillon. I just got back from the airport. I have a present for the Marines.”
“Really? What are we looking at.”
“Hardware mostly.”
“Well, we have plenty here. Is there anything useful?”
“Plenty. They gave us 10 MP-5s and a couple of thousand rounds.”
“Well, we have M-4s for everyone here. I doubt you’d even be able to make it downtown to bring them in.” The Marine Security Guards had received plenty of extra weapons and ammunition during the last two revolutions. Dillon had known that they wouldn’t need MP-5s. Still, he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
H&K had been awarded the D.S. contract in 2014, replacing the Glock 19 and Colt Submachine gun with the USP-9 and MP-5. Dillon was happy with the change, having become familiar with the USP and MP-5 during his days with 5
th
Group, though he wished that State had issued the USP in .45 instead of 9mm. The reason for this was compatibility of ammunition, so it was an understandable compromise. Dillon particularly liked the fact that he was issued a USP Compact for protection, or for use as a backup.
“I could try a night run…”
“Not worth the risk. At this point, I doubt you will even get the vaccine to us.”
“Are things that bad up there?”
“Tahrir Square has a couple hundred thousand protesters. They’re accusing the Ministry of Health of covering up the problem. And we KNOW the Egyptian government is covering up the problem.”
“Okay, I guess I’ll hold on to this stuff, then. There’s no vault at USAID.”
“Yeah, guess your place is as safe as any. How much vaccine did they give you?”
“They sent 220 doses. I figured I would drop that by the USAID clinic tonight.”
“Call Doctor Cohen and make sure he puts them in the locked fridge. There are too many locals at USAID who would steal those in a heartbeat.”
“Good point. I’ll do that.”
“Keep your head down, Dillon.”
“You too, boss.”
It took Dillon twenty minutes to drive the two miles to USAID. He had to turn around twice because of checkpoints and once because of a protest proceeding out of a local mosque. Once there, he waited in the lobby for another half hour before the doc showed up.
“Sorry, I was stuck in traffic. It’s getting crazy out there.” Doc was obviously a bit flustered. Traffic was always….erratic….in Cairo, and throughout the Middle East. Cairo was a city of roughly 12 million people, and had less than a dozen traffic lights. Stop signs were optional, and a noticeable percentage of the local population believed that turning on the car lights drained the battery.
“It’s going to get worse, doc. Civilization is, in the best of cases, only about three days from barbarism. We saw that in the aftermath of Katrina, and I’ve seen it in Somalia, Iraq, and Afghanistan. These people are going to be fighting over food pretty soon. They’re also going to be scared to death of the virus and the infected and lashing out. I heard you received the quarantine instructions. What are we looking at?”
“I’m supposed to administer the vaccine and place everyone on quarantine for 48 hours. Then, I have to perform a blood test on everyone before they will be allowed on the C-130s. I’m going to have my lab tech working nonstop for at least a day to process the tests. I might be in there with Hannah, just to help out. If I administer the vaccine tomorrow, I can start the blood tests on Friday. I told the Ambassador that we should plan on the evacuation to occur on Saturday evening. He’s sending out a management notice to all American employees tomorrow morning.”
“I guess I’ll have to get with Rick tomorrow morning then. We’re going to have to be ready to roll on Saturday. Doc, make sure you lock the vaccine up.”
“I will. Why don’t you take three doses home and have Hannah do the honors. I’m taking care of my family as soon as I get home.”
“Would you like a weapon, doc? The streets are getting rough.”
“I actually hoped you would give me a ride home. I don’t know the first thing about guns.”
“Sure, you’re on the way.”
Dillon stayed clear of the square by the shopping mall. There was too much going on there. He still had to back out of a checkpoint twice and take a more circuitous route to get doc to the 505. Then, he had some kids throw rocks and a few bottles at his suburban on the way to the 611. He waited as the local guards checked his ID and inspected the outside of his car before letting him in. He noticed the police booth was empty but was happy that the local guards hadn’t walked off the job yet. He then spent the next ten minutes carrying the crates up to his apartment on the third floor. Michael waited as patiently as he could, but started busily talking to Dillon as soon as Dillon had finished bringing everything up.
“School was crazy today. Half the kids didn’t show up, and a lot of the teachers called off sick. Mom said that school is closed tomorrow. She said I can open up some of my presents tonight, too. What’s in all of the boxes?”
“You can open up ALL of your birthday presents tonight. Mom will probably spend most of tomorrow working from home. Don’t touch the boxes.”
“What’s in them?”
Dillon smiled and playfully shoved Michael. He was always much more interested in his dad’s work than anything else.
“MP-5s. Want to help me load magazines?”
“Yeah! Can I see the MP-5s? I know all about them from playing Duty and Honor.”
“Well, I’m sure you know something about them from your video games. Not enough to be playing with them. Where’s your mom?”
“She’s doing laundry, I think.”
Dillon immediately felt guilty about the laundry. He had placed a load in the washer that morning but hadn’t been home to move the clothes to the dryer.
Dinner was chicken parmigiana and spaghetti. They talked a bit about what doc said, but didn’t want to worry Michael. After, they watched him from the couch as he opened up his birthday presents - an air soft pistol, a pocket knife, and two new video games.
“Can I stay up and play them tonight, daddy?” Michael always used “daddy” instead of “dad” when he wanted something. Usually it worked like a charm, but not tonight.