Pandemic

Owen spoke up. "Mr. President, there is one other security measure that might be worth considering." She looked to her boss, Ted Hart, who nodded approval. "If the operation goes ahead, I think we should temporarily suspend all flights into and out of the U.S., like we did after 9/11. And the same goes for the ports and borders."

"To all travelers?" the President asked, but he didn't seem too surprised by the suggestion.

"All but official ones," Savard said.

"And I think we need to convince Canada to do the same," Ted Hart weighed in. "As you know, much of our four-thousand mile shared border is unprotected, so we need the Canadians on board, here."

The President nodded. "I will talk to the Prime Minister."

By raising her pen in front of her, Secretary Thomason caught the President's eye. "Sir, this is all good and well, but if one single detail goes wrong with Operation Antiseptic, we will provoke an attack on the country of a scale which we have never before seen."

The President viewed her for a long time before responding. "Katherine, we have not provoked anyone." His eyes fell to the table, and his voice dropped an octave. "I believe with my heart and soul that these terrorists are looking for an excuse to attack us."

Several nods and murmurs rose from around the table.

"I don't disagree," Thomason said. "But it seems to me we have another option."

"Which is?" Whitaker snapped.

"Their ultimatum doesn't expire for two more days. Why not carry out reconnaissance on the base for the next twenty-four hours. We could stop anyone from coming or going. And in the meantime, we would have more time to establish whether this indeed is The Brotherhood's base. And to ensure they are still there. By tomorrow, we would be better prepared to mount the assault."

Haldane found himself nodding along with some of the others.

"Doubtful we'll know any more in twenty-four hours than we do right now," Whitaker grunted and pounded the table once with his fist "What we might end up doing is forfeiting our only advantage — the element of surprise."

General Fischer smiled benignly at Thomason. "Got to agree with Mr. Whitaker there. Wait till tomorrow, and we might find we're closing the barn door once the horses have already left."

"If they haven't already left now," Thomason said quiedy.

The table stilled, as if collectively realizing there was no more point in debating the issue. Only one person could make the decision.

Haldane, along with everyone else at the table, turned his eyes to the President.

CHAPTER 33

HARGEYSA SOMALIA

Hazzir Kabaal had not checked the Internet since before dinner. Up until then he had checked every five minutes, anticipating some kind of response from the Americans to The Brotherhood's latest ultimatum. But during evening prayers. it came to him in the visceral form of a premonition that he was not going to hear an answer, at least not via the TV or Internet.

Turning away from his computer, Kabaal sat at his desk and read from volume six of the mammoth masterpiece In the Shadow of the Koran, written by Sayyid Qutb. Qutb was the father of the modern Islamist movement. His written words, as much as those spoken by Sheikh Hassan, had moved Hazzir Kabaal toward his current course of action. Lately Kabaal found less solace than before in Qutb's text One quote from the second chapter of the Koran troubled him in particular. It read: "Fight in the cause of God those who fight you, but do not transgress limits. For God loveth not transgressors." If they had not yet transgressed the limits, Kabaal thought glumly, then surely Aziz's supervirus would constitute such a transgression.

After knocking at his open door, the white-coated Dr. Anwar Aziz walked in followed by Abdul Sabri in military fatigues. In addition to his handgun, he now carried a rifle slung over his shoulder.

Kabaal slipped the Qutb book into his desk and nodded to the two men. "Anwar, Abdul, welcome."

They walked up to his desk, but neither sat in the chairs in front. With eyes darting about, Aziz appeared more skittish than usual. Sabri's face was as inexpressive as ever, though he seemed somehow frostier in disposition.

"Your new virus, Dr. Aziz," Kabaal said to the scientist, "it is ready for transport?"

Aziz glanced nervously at Sabri before answering. "I believe so. We have inoculated eggs and several primate blood samples in which to carry it. Of course, I would have preferred more time and to have human serum samples but.. " His voice trailed off.

"They're here, Hazzir," Sabri said almost casually as he unshouldered his rifle and rested it against Kabaal's antique oak desk.

Kabaal squinted at Sabri. "Who is where?"

"The Americans are in Hargeysa." Sabri shrugged. "CIA, I imagine."

Kabaal sat up straighter. "How do you know this?"

"Two strangers were asking questions of the men in the bars in town," Sabri said. "They were trading drinks for information about us and our base. Who else would they be?"