Tysons Corner, Virginia
It was still dark outside when Michael Goodwin pulled into the parking lot of E-Tech Ltd., the new home of the Emerging Threats group.
The TechWorld business park on the outskirts of Washington, DC, looked like any other suburban collection of nondescript, three-and four-story office buildings surrounded by generous parking lots. The concrete-and-glass structures were not unattractive, but also not eye-catching. The gaze of any passerby would glide over them as just another boring business park.
But a close observer might notice government license plates sprinkled among the cars. Not that unusual for northern Virginia. Perhaps a defense contractor, one might guess.
The truly astute would begin to notice the sheer number of cameras in the area. They were located on the corner of every building and atop every one of the overhead lights in the parking areas; it was impossible to approach the TechWorld business park without being monitored. And finally, there was the cluster of antennas and other communications gear on top of some of these buildings.
Even at this early hour, there were a sizable number of vehicles parked around the E-Tech building. Michael parked his new BMW 330i well away from the other cars and stepped into the early-morning humidity.
When Michael pulled open the front door of E-Tech, he entered a hundred-square-foot enclosed box of bulletproof glass. This was one of two entrances to this secure building: the front door and an underground loading dock. Both were guarded by independent teams of two security professionals, armed, willing, and able to use deadly force should the need arise.
He faced the camera over the front door for a facial-recognition scan. ID cards were not used here. Your biometrics were your security card in this facility.
He heard the snap of a magnetic lock and the doors parted.
“Good morning,” Michael called to the young woman dressed in a dark blue business suit sitting behind a reception desk. Her eyes followed him to the heavy door leading to the offices. She buzzed him in as soon as his hand touched the door handle. In addition to the Glock nine-millimeter in her holster, the receptionist had the ability to lock down the entire building with the touch of a button. If the desk agent was incapacitated, her two compatriots located in the security office behind the wall mural of the foyer would take over.
After a stop for coffee, Michael settled into his office chair with a sigh of satisfaction. He liked to get into the office early so he could plan his day before anyone else showed up.
The screen saver showed a detailed map of the Nile River basin. His latest project was an analysis of the water-security issues of the region. His eye traced the thin band of green that wound through brown deserts in Egypt, Sudan, Ethiopia, and Eritrea. For centuries, the Nile River had been the thread on which their lives had hung.
But all that was changing now, and swiftly.
The commissioning of the Merowe High Dam north of Khartoum, Sudan, brought much-needed flood control and energy to the host nation, but heightened tensions between Egypt and its southern neighbors.
Meanwhile, on the Blue Nile, Ethiopia and Eritrea, two of the poorest countries in the world, had finally resolved a decades-long territorial dispute. A 2018 peace treaty provided much-needed stability, and foreign investment flooded into the region. The Grand Ethiopian Renaissance Dam, or GERD, would be the largest hydroelectric power plant in Africa and a massive development boost for the region.
But water resource allocation was a zero-sum game. Gains by Ethiopia and Sudan were Egypt’s loss. At least, that was what some politicians in the region were stating.
Don had been correct to pinpoint this region as a potential flash point. The region was a double threat. Terrorist groups looked for existing points of conflict to exploit for their own gain, and the Nile River basin was a tinderbox waiting for a match. It was just a matter of time before ISIS refugees set up shop in this volatile region.
Even more concerning were the Iranians. As they lost ground to the Saudis in the Yemen proxy war, there was growing concern that Iran might try to open up a new front on the opposite side of the Red Sea.
Either scenario was a perfect fit for Emerging Threats.
As he did every morning, Michael scanned the English-language news sources from the region looking for anything with the potential to escalate. The classified intel briefings would come out later in the morning. This was his way of staying in touch with how the news media outlets saw the ebbs and flows of the regional happenings.
A news alert from Al Jazeera flashed up on the screen: Hundreds dead in car bomb attack.
Michael clicked on the link. Under the blaring BREAKING NEWS banner, a dark-haired man in a navy-blue suit was speaking at the camera.
“… a vehicle-based improvised explosive device claimed the lives of hundreds of workers at the Grand Ethiopian Renaissance Dam today in western Ethiopia…”
The picture over the anchor’s shoulder showed the carnage of a massive car bomb—a blackened crater, an overturned dump truck, emergency-response vehicles, and working men in yellow safety vests carrying people.
In the background, an enormous concrete structure rose up in tiers. Michael clicked on the printed news story and scanned the contents with growing concern. A bomb hidden in a food truck had been detonated in the lower dam basin. Hundreds of workers were killed or injured. The bombers had chosen the spot carefully. The concave structure of the lower basin concentrated the blast to maximize the casualties.
Finally, at the bottom of the page, Michael saw what he was looking for: a claim of attribution.
The Mahdi. Michael had never heard of any terrorist group named the Mahdi. He performed an unclassified web search and got an immediate hit.
Michael stared at the screen. The website was a simple black homepage with a two-line message in the center of the screen:
The Day of Judgment is upon us.
The Mahdi has returned.
It took Michael a moment to realize that the website had recognized his originating ISP and translated the text on the screen to match his native language. That was high-level programming, not commonly found on a stand-up site for a terrorist group.
He clicked on the link, and a video came up. A prompt box popped onto his screen: Choose your language.
A terrorist website that asked for his language preference to view a video?
Intrigued now, he clicked on English.
His screen shifted to a high-definition video of a well-appointed room with colorful rugs on the floor, a low-slung Arab-style floor sofa with plush pillows, and a rich tapestry along the back wall.
A man stepped into the frame, his face and hands blurred to avoid identification. When the man spoke, although his voice had been run through a synthesizer, he spoke excellent English.
“For too long, the infidels have used their money and their power and their weapons to subjugate the children of Islam. No more. I am the Mahdi, the Redeemer, the Reborn, the Uniter.
“The Day of Judgment is nearly upon us. I call on all people of this region to reject all foreign investment in the Bahr al-Nīl, the Nile River basin. Anyone who accepts money from infidels or participates in building programs by infidels is subject to the wrath of the Mahdi.
“By now you have seen what I am capable of doing, but I do not condone violence. I honor life and faith. I am the Mahdi. Follow me.”
When the video ended, Michael played it again. It was short, no more than a minute, but well produced, with excellent graphics and background music. He was willing to guess that the blurring tech on the man’s face and hands and the voice synthesizer work were both top-notch.
Whoever this Mahdi was, he had skills. He was just about to watch the video again when Janet entered the office.
“We’ve got something,” he said. Janet crowded close to his screen as he replayed the video for her.
“They want your language preference?” she asked.
Michael replayed the video a fourth time. “And that’s not all. The quality of this production is all top-notch stuff. If these guys are ISIS castoffs, they have seriously upped their game.”
“Have you told Don about this yet?”
When Michael shook his head, Janet picked up the phone. A few minutes later, Don was standing behind Michael’s workstation.
He crossed his arms and listened with pursed lips as Michael demonstrated what he had found and gave them both the highlights on the tech used to produce the video.
“Have you tried to break into the website yet?” Don asked.
“I was just getting there,” Michael replied. He shifted his screen to look at the website coding and immediately ran into a firewall.
“Hmmm.” Michael opened a second screen and pulled up his tool kit.
After a few minutes, he sat back. “These guys are good,” he said. “Really good. This might take some time. If Dre were here, she could knock it out much faster than me.”
Don clapped Michael on the shoulder.
“You leave Dre Ramirez to me, Michael,” he said. “Stay on this lead. This is what we’ve been waiting for.”