Pandemic

"Mixed news on the global front." Haldane shrugged. "Hong Kong, maybe because of their SARS experience, has been the most successful in limiting the virus's spread. Less than one hundred total cases and no new ones reported in forty-eight hours. The story is not so rosy in London." He shook his head and sighed. "Over 700 infected with 145 dead so far. Sporadic clusters of infections have spread to mainland Europe — six in Amsterdam, two in Brussels, three in Hamburg — all traceable back to that first woman in the elevator. You heard about Chicago. And here in Vancouver, there are at least fifty-five infected and thirteen dead."

Gwen sighed. "Which could rise to fourteen very soon."

Haldane looked down at his feet. "Yeah, Jake is not doing well," he said softly.

"It's so damn unnecessary!" She studied him for a moment without speaking. Then she bit her lower lip. "Noah, are you scared?"

"Of coming down with this virus?"

"Yeah."

"Very. But the odds are stacked in our favor." He tapped his fist on the sofa beside him. "It pisses me off, though."

"What does?"

"Being imprisoned here" — he circled a finger around the suite—"while that virus is loose out there. I should be in Chicago now, not stuck in quarantine."

"Me, too."

He looked up at her with a frown. "Actually, where I should be is home in Maryland. It's my daughter's birthday in three days… I promised her I'd be there with balloons."

Recognizing the pain in his eyes, Gwen felt a pang of sorrow. "It's not fair, Noah."

Haldane shrugged. "Fairness seems to be in pretty short supply these days."

The phone rang. "Gwen Savard," she said into the receiver. She listened to the woman on the other end of the line and then closed her eyes for a moment. "I am so sorry," she said, before hanging up the phone.

"Jake Maguchi?" Noah asked.

"Yes."

"Damn it!" Haldane punched the sofa beside him. "Why would anyone—" He stopped in midsentence. He snapped his fingers at Gwen and pointed to the TV. "Turn the volume up!"

Gwen followed his eyes to the TV screen where the words "Breaking News" flashed above the head of a concerned-looking anchorman. She hit the volume button just in time to hear the anchorman say somberly: "If American troops do not withdraw in the next four days, the group, calling itself The Brotherhood of One Nation, has vowed to 'unleash an army of martyrs' to spread the virus across the country."

CHAPTER 26

HARGEYSA, SOMALIA

The Brotherhood of One Nation. Their name dominated the Internet. Sitting alone in his plush office, Hazzir Kabaal shook his head in disbelief. Sabri and he had only hit upon the name the day before issuing their taped ultimatum. Now it was on the tongues of people around the planet.

Kabaal surfed all the major news outlets from his own newspapers' Web sites to the other major Arabic, European, and even the U.S. network sites. The only news item competing for any global attention was the photo of the operation's latest martyr, Sharifa Sha'rawi. Her restored face ran side by side to most of the stories concerning The Brotherhood's claim of responsibility. When he first saw the photo from Vancouver, it was so lifelike that for a disoriented moment Kabaal worried she might have been captured alive.

Poor Sharifa, Kabaal thought. Orphaned as a young child, she had grown up without a chance of finding a husband. At the pivotal moment of her mission, she had been turned away at the U.S.-Canadian border without ever reaching her target of Seattle. Nothing in life had gone well for the unfortunate girl. Now even in death she had found mishap when her body had broken free of the bindings and surfaced on a riverbank, jeopardizing the entire operation.

That mistake would have been less problematic were it not combined with Kabaal's self-confessed misjudgment in stopping Abdul Sabri from killing Sergeant Achmed Eleish earlier. As soon as Kabaal heard a policeman had been nosing around the Al-Futuh Mosque and asking about Sharifa, he knew it could be no one but Achmed Eleish. Now the relentless detective had uncovered Sharifa's name.

But Kabaal noted with guarded optimism that Sharifa was still described as an "anonymous terrorist" by the media. Perhaps Eleish had not shared his detective work with anyone. Maybe, as Abdul Sabri had suggested before leaving to find Eleish, the policeman was determined to single-handedly dismantle their operation. Kabaal dearly hoped so. As a force of one, Eleish was no more than a flea on a camel, but if he turned to the Egyptian authorities or worse the Americans…

Hazzir Kabaal refused to obsess over Eleish's intentions. Kabaal knew he was as always in Allah's hands. Still, His ways were mysterious. Mistakes had crept into the operation where none had been before, but those blunders and their inherent dangers were not what kept Hazzir Kabaal awake night after night.

No. It was the resurgence of his doubt.