Pandemic

"We have heard the promises from the President, but we know better than to trust his empty words," The Brotherhood's spokesman railed in his throaty tone. "The timetable set out for withdrawal of the infidel troops from our holy lands is unacceptable. The Islamic republics of Afghanistan and Iraq were overrun in days. Not weeks or months." His voice quavered. "The Americans and their so-called allies have three days to withdraw all troops from our Islamic lands. If by Monday midnight there is one foreign soldier left standing in our lands, then our martyrs will sweep over America like a flooding river. And God will have no mercy for those in its path."

Even though Kabaal had written the words, hearing them spoken back to him over the radio's static made them seem surreal as if part of a play he had penned.

When Kabaal looked up, Abdul Sabri stood silently in the doorway. He had traded his galabiya for military fatigues, and an automatic handgun was holstered prominently at his side. Without waiting for an invitation, as he had always before, Sabri walked into the office. Rather than standing, he sank into the seat across from Kabaal.

"The message is right, Abu Lahab," Sabri said in what amounted to the closest to a compliment Kabaal had ever heard from the man.

"Three days, though…" Kabaal said skeptically.

"If they have any intention of complying, it is more than enough," Sabri said.

Kabaal tilted his head from side to side. "We'll see."

"We need to prepare, Hazzir," Sabri said.

Kabaal did not reply.

"Our people are in place, but they need the virus," Sabri stressed.

"Poor Sharifa," Kabaal sighed. The original plan had called for Sharifa to carry the virus to Seattle for further distribution, but it was foiled by her botched attempt to cross the border by car from Canada. And the backup plan fell through when their Chicago courier died before the virus could be harvested from her blood.

"It will be even more difficult to get it into America now," Kabaal pointed out.

"Difficult, but by no means impossible." Sabri shrugged.

"Oh?"

"This time we will send it by more than one route," Sabri said authoritatively. "Maybe one of us will have to carry it there personally. We can afford no more chances."

Kabaal eyed Sabri for several moments. "Major, you fully expect to unleash the virus, don't you?"

"Yes," he said without hesitation.

"Even if the Americans comply with our demands?" he asked.

They won't," Sabri said without a trace of doubt. "They will come for us here very soon, which is why we have to leave today."

"What makes you so sure?" Kabaal asked.

Sabri shook his head impatiently. His shift in attitude from deference to defiance was no longer the least subtle. "I have been a soldier my whole life. War is in my blood. I understand it far better than you ever will. The Americans assume they can stop us if they can find us in time. And they have capabilities we never dreamed possible. Trust me, Hazzir, they will come. And soon. Now is our window of opportunity."

Kabaal's heart sank. "And where do you suggest we go?" he asked.

Before Sabri had a chance to answer, Anwar Aziz flew into the room. The overweight scientist practically ran up to the desk where Kabaal and Sabri sat. Uncharacteristically, Aziz was grinning from ear to ear.

"Aziz, I take it you have news?" Kabaal said.

"Indeed, Abu Lahab," Aziz chortled. "Indeed."

Kabaal held out his hand. "Please…"

Aziz gathered up the seams of his white lab coat and plopped his large bottom in the chair beside Sabri. "Ever since we set up our laboratory, we have done more than just preserve the Gansu virus. We have continued to experiment," he said with a hint of pride. "We have introduced other influenza viruses into laboratory pigs. You see, in microbiological terms, pigs are known as the 'mixing vessel' for certain viruses like influenza."

"Meaning?" Sabri said with a bored sigh.

"Of course, of course." Aziz rolled one hand over the other in a nervous gesture. "The pig's bloodstream is ideal for viruses of various species to interact, to mutate. The organisms trade sections of RNA, their genetic code, between one another."

"And this affects the viruses how?" Kabaal asked.

"Various ways." Aziz dabbed at his brow where beads of sweat had begun to form. "Traits of one virus can be passed on to another. At least, that is what we have been trying to accomplish with our virus," he said as if they had single-handedly created the Gansu Flu.

"Which traits?" Kabaal asked with a raised eyebrow.

"The contagiousness, Abu Lahab," Aziz said. His awkward smile reemerged. "I was never satisfied with the results we attained. The Gansu virus was less contagious than the common cold."

"Was?" Sabri sat up straighter and looked at Aziz with renewed interest. "Not anymore?"