BioKill (17 page)

Chapter Twenty-six

“Your son is
unharmed. He will remain safe unless you do not comply. If you fail me, then you will hear his screams for all eternity.”

“Who was that?”

“Our contact in Homeland Security. An unwilling but cooperative player.”

“You have her son?”

“We do.” The moment was strung out. “I am sorry about your friend.”

Bashir looked at Bomani then back to the road in front of them. “I’m sorry too. I’m sorry he wasn’t stronger. He was my best friend… but I understand what you had to do. I understand the cause is greater than any one of us. I am prepared to die for Allah. It’s become so clear now… so clear.”

“You are a good man. We will succeed, it is written. The high-ranking official in the infidel security informed me they now know the direction we are headed in and it will only be a matter of time before the drone in the sky finds us.”

“It’ll be dark soon — surely the drone won’t be able to see us then?”

“It will.”

Bashir looked to the sky. “How high do drones fly?”

“I do not know, but our people in Afghanistan say that night and day they bear witness to the danger above. Sometimes they hear them but do not always see them.”

“So they’re looking for us on the ground, right? What say we leave the ground? They wouldn’t be looking for us up there.” Bashir watched the other man for a sign of endorsement. Finally a broad smile from Bomani gave him his answer. “And how do you suggest we do it, my friend?”

The words
my friend
were more than just words to Bashir, they meant he had been accepted by the Takfir. He felt overwhelmed with pride, basking in the moment. “The GPS can show us where to find an airport… it won’t take me long.” Bashir skillfully worked the technology. “There… just let me drill out a bit. OK. We’re in luck, my brother… an airfield. I don’t know how big, but an airfield nevertheless.”

Bonani smiled. The young Takfir had done well. Very well.

*

The air-sock lay limp on the tall white pole. The airfield was little more than pasture. One lonely hangar midway along the strip helped identify it; the other identifier was a sign next to a grassed road.
Welcome to Air Ag and Scenic Air
.

“Can you fly?”

Bashir shook his head. “No. Do you have cash to pay for a plane and pilot?”

“I have a rifle and bullets, will that do?”

Bashir laughed.

The van bumped along over the grass and stopped near the hangar. Two vehicles were parked up nearby. Bashir headed into the hangar via two large open doors at the front. “Anybody home?”

“Agh shit! Damn, that hurt.” A man dressed in well-used blue overalls stood up straight from working under the bonnet of an old car. He flicked his fingers then looked to see the damage. Bruised knuckles. “Be right with you.” Taking an oily rag from his back pocket he rubbed it over his hands, careful of the sore knuckles. “Howdy, sorry about that, just rapped my knuckles on the block.” The man in his fifties strode over to the doors. As he walked he removed his cap and scratched the remaining hair on the sides and back of his head, before giving the cap a couple of bangs on his leg and replacing it on his head.

“Ain’t seen you before,” he extended his hand. “Nathan Nathans at your service, people round here just call me Nathan, Nat, some even call me Nathans. You can call me anything you like, ’cept late for breakfast. Get it? Late for breakfast… anyways, Nat’s the name. So who’m I talkin’ to?” he thrust out his hand.

There was an awkward silence. The agricultural pilot realized he wasn’t going to get a reciprocal handshake so he pulled his hand back. “Sorry, greasy hand. So, um, guess you don’t want your land sprayed, huh? No? Yeah, well, I guessed as much. So, a scenic flight? You’ve come to the right place. I can show you anything and everything. You like fishing? I got some poles here, and I know the dandiest fishing holes…”

Bashir couldn’t believe this man, he hadn’t managed to get a word in. He held his hands up in the air in a ‘hold your horses’ gesture.

“Aw, sorry, sorry. Not a scenic flight then?” There was no stopping the man. “You just here for directions maybe? Lost, huh? No problem, you come to the right man. I know these parts like…”

“Stop!”

The pilot obliged, then took off his cap, held it in both hands in front of him and gave a huge smile that stuck to his face.

“You are a pilot, right?”

“You betcha, I’m…”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Bashir looked around the hangar. “I don’t see any planes.”

“Yeah, it’s here. Under that tarp over there. Now, you’ll be askin’ yourself: ‘What in heck is that plane doing under that tarp?’ Good question…”

“Mister, I don’t care. All I want to know is does it go?

“Yep, it goes…”

“Stay here, I’ll just go and speak to my friend. One thing… we’d want to put our van in here out of the weather, that OK with you?”

“Yeah, no problem, but it’s getting a little late in the day for sightseeing. I was thinking more like tomorrow.” If Bashir had heard, he paid no attention and continued walking. The pilot looked over at the tarpaulin and rubbed his chin. He spoke out aloud to himself: “And the other thing I was going to say was… it kinda goes, most of the time… but I guess you don’t want to hear that. Nope, guess you don’t.”

Bomani was waiting by the van. “How did it go?”

“We have a pilot, a plane and a place to hide the van.”

“You did well. Let’s move quickly.”

“Just park her up over there, boys… yeah, just like that. I don’t have to tell you boys much, eh? ‘Galloping Caterers’, well, I’ll be. You don’t happen to have some free samples in the back, do you? Oh hi, I didn’t see you before. Name’s Nathan, Nat, some even call me Nathans, you…”

Bomani had turned off the ignition and was getting out the door when the pilot started introducing himself. Bomani stared at the stranger and summed him up in less than a second. “Shut up.” He then slid open the side doors of the van.

“Say what? I couldn’t have heard you right. Anyways, my name is Nathan, Nat…”

“I won’t say it again. Shut up.”

“Hey, you can’t talk to me like that…”

Bomani took out his rifle from the carry bag and pointed it at the pilot. The man’s jaw dropped. Bashir directed the pilot to prepare the airplane for take-off then watched as he pulled off the cover.

“What the hell is that?” said Bashir as the cover fell to the ground.

“An airplane.” The pilot had lost some of his talkative nature once the rifle was pointed at him. But not all. “A three-seater 1940s Waco bi-plane.”

Bomani moved closer to the pilot. “The two cars outside, who do they belong to?”

“The red one is mine and the blue one belongs to my business partner.”

“Where is your partner?”

“Taking a client back home.”

“In what?”

“Our helicopter. Look, we don’t want no trouble.”

“When will he be back?”

“Soon. We don’t fly at night.”

“Where do you live and where does your partner live?”

“Hey, come on now, you can’t just come in here and wave a gun around, we got rights, we…”

Bomani adopted a standing stance for a rifle shot and raised the weapon to his shoulder. The pilot looked squarely down the barrel.

“Not a problem, not a problem.” He cleared his throat. “Kate lives with me, we live here in this hangar. At the back there is where we sleep and eat.”

“This Kate, she is your partner? A woman?”

The pilot nodded.

“Good. We wait.” Bomani walked across to Bashir. “We stay here the night, the drone won’t find us here. Tomorrow we take a helicopter ride.”

*

It was dusk as the helicopter landed on its wheeled dolly outside the hangar. Kate started her routine to shut down the chopper. Looking towards the large open doors she noticed Nat and a couple of strangers. Happy for more work to be coming their way, she gave a polite wave in their direction; there was no reciprocal wave.
What’s up with Nat? Odd.
Kate started to unbuckle her seat belt. One of the men started to approach. She held up a hand to stop him coming forward; the rotor blades were still winding down. The man crouched and broke into a run towards the chopper.

It was then she saw the rifle pointed at Nat’s back. The last passengers had talked about the heavy police presence on the ground and the official notice over the radio to be on the lookout for three suspicious men. Even though she saw every movement of the man coming towards her, she was still shocked when her door was pulled open and she was told to get out. The man, in his twenties, followed up his demands by grabbing her by the arm and wrenching her from her seat. Kate fell heavily to the concrete below, then was roughly manhandled towards Nat and the other man with the gun.

The emergency locator transmitter in the helicopter could be operated manually, sending out a signal with the owner’s contact information and its unique identification number. It was an older model, and pulsed every fifty seconds. It would take on average forty-five minutes to be relayed to the Rescue Coordination Center. By the time Kate had been given a last push towards her partner she estimated at least one pulse had been sent. By the time Bomani had supervised the housing of the helicopter and the hangar doors shut tight, she calculated there was about a half hour until Rescue Coordination would attempt contact. Thirty-five minutes later the hangar phone and both hers and Nat’s mobiles rang. Bomani listened to the mobiles ring in his own pocket, one shortly after the other, interrupted by the hangar landline ringing.

“No one is available.” Bomani destroyed the phones.

*

The scent had gone cold. Lilburn stood beside the Jeep, the vista before him stretching out to the far hills where the sun was setting. Soon it would be dark. Government and local police patrols combed the countryside, commanders setting patrol duties for the night. The drone, flying its search pattern, would continue throughout the hours of darkness. Only its operators would change, the weary day pilot off to his in-laws and the others going home to hot dinners and soft beds.

Chapter Twenty-seven

“The accommodation ain’t
so bad, had a lot worse.” One of Lilburn’s team sat back in the motel room’s sofa. “Shame there’s no booze. Hey, Matt. What about that kid’s Jeep, you think he’ll be getting a little worried?”

“Already taken care of.” Sitting on a chair beside a Formica-topped table, Lilburn finished reassembling his Sig Sauer side arm and checked the action. “Nice weapon this P250, good balance.” Standing up he headed for the kitchen, looking for cup of coffee. A small woven basket on the bench top held sachets of instant coffee. Lilburn picked up a sachet and read the writing…
from the world’s finest beans
. He snorted.
Yeah right! Bet they’re Robusta!

The steam rose from his mug of coffee. The smell was good, the sort of smell where you don’t mind taking another hit. It was one of those aromas that brought a picture to mind. Lilburn allowed himself to be taken back to England, the coffee shop, the doctor… Almost without thinking he took a sip.
Aw crap.
Lilburn looked down at the steaming liquid, wondering how a drink could smell the same but taste so different. Still, he needed the caffeine fix, and he’d been drinking instant for years. He put up with the taste. His phone rang. “Lilburn.”

“Hello, Matt, I’m so sorry to bother you, but something has come up. It’s Evangeline.”

He knew straight away who it was, the silky smooth accent gave it away. It didn’t sound like a casual call — he noticed some anxiety in her voice.

“There’s something you urgently need to know. I’m with Director Lopez and I’m afraid she’s in a bit of a pickle.”

Lilburn gave a chuckle. “A what?”

“A pickle, a situation. Matt, she’s in the shit up to her eyeballs!”

The sides of his mouth dropped. “Go on.”

Evangeline gave a brief account.

“Who else knows about this?”

“I haven’t told anyone, not even Director Hall.”

“OK. Let me think… put Lopez on the phone.”

The conversation required privacy. With three other agents in the room, Lilburn decided to move outside.

“Agent Lilburn, Suzanna Lopez. Thank you for listening.”

“One moment, please.” Lilburn shut the door behind him and moved away from the door. “I understand your child has been kidnapped and you’ve been forced to provide information to the terrorist cell.”

“Yes, my son. I gave him up so he would have a normal life, a family life, not one where there was no father and a mother who was hardly home. A few days ago he was abducted. The people he lived with were murdered and there was no sign of Roddy. A day later I was contacted by phone by a person claiming to be a member of an Islamist group. In exchange for my son’s life I had to supply certain information.”

“What sort of information?” Lilburn was taking mental notes.

“I… I was told to keep them informed of developments. What tools we used to track them, where we were up to, where…”

“A few days ago? Before we knew who we were dealing with? We didn’t even have faces, names — we probably didn’t even know there was a terrorist plot in progress — and they took the risk of involving you?”

Lopez laughed bitterly. “I’ve thought about that long and hard, I can assure you. I believe I know why.” Lopez paused, Lilburn could hear her breathing. “They specifically targeted me because of my position and they knew about my son. I have no idea how they knew, I have my suspicions but…”

“Tell me, I want to know everything you know.”

“There must be an informant in Homeland Security, someone with access to sensitive personal records. That’s why I beg you to keep this conversation secret, please. Just until my son is safe. I can’t trust anyone. If their plot was somehow discovered, then they took the calculated risk I would be a mother first and last. They were right.”

“I see.” Lilburn had already summed up the alternative. “If they had succeeded with the plot, you would have been eliminated. You and your boy — something not too suspicious and they would leave the country unnoticed. The first we would know about a biological attack would be when animals started displaying symptoms of the virus.”

“Allan Hall said you were the best field operative we have. Will you help me get my son back?”

Lilburn looked up at the early night sky. The air temperature was rapidly cooling. “You know this is bigger than you or your son. Even if you get through this, the best you could hope for is modest leniency.”

“I know, I know. I’ve put my country second, Agent Lilburn. I put my son first. I never in a million years thought I would become a traitor to my country, but, I never knew how much my love for my son would affect me.”

“You’re in contact with the cell leader?”

“Yes.”

Lilburn weighed up the different scenarios. Of utmost importance was stopping the virus, next came Lopez and her son.

“This cell is more organized than we give them credit for — who’s the leader?”

“He never gives me his name.”

“Speak to him again. Make up something… we’ve had a sighting of the van heading west so now we’re concentrating in that direction. Anything, just as long as you can get a fix on his location…”

“It’s no good, he won’t stay on the line long enough. I’ve already thought of that, but so has he.”

There seemed no option. With no intelligence on who had kidnapped the boy or where he was being held, it was increasingly obvious that any delay in locating Lopez’s son would only place a successful virus recovery in serious jeopardy. The risk was unacceptable.

“I’m sorry, Director, but the stakes are too high not to report this security breach. I only wish there was more I could do.”

“No, you can’t! They’ll kill my son. You mustn’t. Please, please reconsider.”

Lilburn shook his head. The decision was tough. More than likely a young innocent boy would die — the only solace he could take was the knowledge that whatever happened, it was unlikely the Takfir would let the boy live. Killing him would always be safer.

“Agent Lilburn, please…”

Lilburn heard Lopez talking in the background. “I’m all right, thank you, I have to be.” She returned to Lilburn. “I’ll contact the cell leader, I’ll do it now. I’ll tell him… I’ll tell him just what you said before. I’ll tell him all our resources are concentrating west and that he should go the opposite direction. I’ll set a trap… but please don’t go to anyone. There’s a mole in the organization and I don’t know who. It could be anyone.”

“Where are you now?” inquired Lilburn.

“I’m still at HQ.”

“Put me back on to Dr. Crawston, please… Evangeline, this is what I want you… sorry, just one moment, I have a call coming through from Director Hall.”

Allan Hall notified his top agent of the emergency locator signal from a helicopter not far from his location. “It could be nothing — sometimes they’re set off by accident. Then again, a helicopter is a handy piece of equipment to get around the country and deliver a virus, especially when the ground is crawling with enforcement… I think you should check this one out. The signal gives the location within two miles of the chopper’s registered home. Check the address out first. If it’s not there, I’ll have the Search and Rescue Team from the Rescue Coordination Center take over and pinpoint the exact location. I’ll text you the address. Good hunting.”

Lilburn had intended to inform the director about Lopez but didn’t get the opportunity.

“Evangeline, you still there?”

“Yes.”

“Sorry about that, I had Hall on the phone, we have a possible lead close to here. A helicopter set off an emergency beacon. Evangeline, do me a favor, go to Allan Hall and explain to him what Lopez has confessed. There is no other option. I have to go now.”

“Be very careful. Please.”

Lilburn burst into the motel room. “Boys, we got a lead. So saddle up, we’re outta here.”