Pandemic

Their plan had thus far had an even greater impact than Kabaal anticipated. Perhaps, too successful. What if the virus they had freed was already unstoppable? Or what if the American President didn't bow to their demands? They would have no recourse but to follow through with their threat to unleash the promised army of martyrs.

CAIRO, EGYPT

Sergeant Achmed Eleish had spent a busy twenty-four hours since solving the mystery of the Vancouver terrorist's identity. Most of his time had been dedicated to convincing Samira and his two daughters that they would have to leave Cairo. The girls were appalled at the thought of abandoning their teaching responsibilities in the middle of the school year. It took all Eleish's powers of persuasion to finally convince his family to temporarily relocate to his cousin's house in Alexandria.

After his two daughters had already boarded the train for Alexandria, Eleish stood alone on the platform holding his wife's hand. Samira's eyes were dry and her poise as unfaltering as ever, but earlier in the morning he had heard her sobbing softly in the bedroom, unaware that he was still at home.

Staring into his wife's stoic face, Eleish had trouble keeping the tears from his own eyes. He squeezed her hand tenderly. "It will just be a short while, Miri."

"I know," she said softly.

"I need a break," Eleish continued rationalizing aloud. "Maybe in a few days I could come up and join you in Alexandria. It would be like the old days. A family vacation with the girls."

Samira smiled poignantly. "That would be nice." Then she added distantly, "Like the old days."

The loudspeaker called out the final boarding call for the Alexandria-bound train.

Samira leaned forward, touched her fingers to his lips, and then turned to walk up the train's steps. She stopped on the last step. "I won't tell you it's not worth it," Samira said. "I know you have no other choice, but please, Achmed, be careful. Don't trust anyone. His influence reaches far and wide."

"I promise." Eleish's voice cracked. "I will come for you soon."

She smiled and waved once, then disappeared into the train.

After the train pulled out, Eleish found a public rest room in the station and changed into a galabiya that he hadn't donned in almost ten years. He had once swum in the garment, but now it fit too snugly. He studied his profile in the mirror, surprised at how his belly had grown in the interim. He lifted the bottom of his robe and tucked his automatic handgun into the leg holster beside the handcuffs.

From the train station, Eleish went directly to the Al-Futuh Mosque. He parked a few blocks away and walked a circuitous route to the mosque, pleased that the pedestrian traffic had thinned in the late afternoon. The fewer people he saw, the better.

He timed his arrival to coincide with Maghrib, the evening prayer, knowing that most of the congregation would leave for dinner afterward. As Eleish walked down the dusty, smoggy Cairo street, he paused when he heard the beautiful adhan, or call to prayer, echo out from the loudspeaker of the mosque's prayer tower. Though headed for inhospitable territory, he felt no apprehension, knowing that he approached the house of God.

He joined the traditionally dressed congregation — men in white galabiyas and women wearing jihabs and floor-length black coverings — as they shuffled into the majestic gold-domed mosque. Eleish had little concern of raising suspicion among the regular congregation. He doubted his own brother would recognize him in his galabiya.

Inside, the women and men separated into their respective sections in the large prayer hall. Facing the qibla (the wall directed toward Mecca), Eleish recited his prayers with genuine vehemence, but he kept a watchful eye on the old man standing on the pulpit by the qibla. He had never before seen Sheikh Hassan at prayers.

The Sheikh wore a traditional clerical robe along with a white Islamic turbar and a long gray beard. Stooped forward and with a rough tremor in both hands, the emaciated cleric epitomized the frailty of old age. But when Hassan spoke in his low-pitched staccato, his voice resonated with a ferocious power that erased the ravages time inflicted on his body. Eleish had no doubt that the Sheikh was a man born to lead.

After prayers ended, Eleish didn't exit through the same doors as most of the others. Instead, he wandered out into the courtyard under the arcaded portico. With his arms folded across his chest he pretended to admire the wells and fountains in the courtyard while he passed the time.

After a few minutes a tall, robed, bearded man with a thick neck and opaque brown eyes approached him. "My brother, is it not time to leave for dinner?" the young man said with a hint of warning.