Retribution

The Atlantic Aviation Fixed Base Operation,
Hartsfield–Jackson Airport

William Parker saw Scott standing next to the door to the flight line, nervously looking at his Rolex.

Someone like Scott being nervous....

Parker didn’t like it. No one could afford to be nervous in this business.

Parker continued to watch for a second as Scott stared at the giant jets as they taxied by the FBO. An Air France Boeing 777 rolled by. As it did, Parker could see over Scott’s shoulder the pilot going through the final takeoff checklist, reaching up and flipping switches. The gigantic wings, full of fuel, passed above them as the aircraft moved by.

“Mr. Scott.”

Scott turned around to see Parker standing in front of him.

“It’s good to see you.”

“Let’s step outside.” Parker pointed to the door to the flight line.

As the two stepped outside, the roar of the Air France jet engines was deafening. The engines threw up a hot wind that blew past them.

“So, are you in?” Scott couldn’t disguise his impatience.

Parker could read the tension in his voice. No doubt Scott was already imagining trying to talk the British into the backup plan, one they wouldn’t like. A UAV would try to follow the real Zabara to the meeting in the mountains of Pakistan, and then, at just the right moment, a Hellfire missile would be dropped from a high-altitude jet out of sight to those on the ground. MI5 would lose a valuable asset, and all who knew Zabara would become suspect to the jihadists. Still, it would probably be a fair trade-off, but they’d vastly prefer the Parker plan.

“Yes,” Parker said at last.

“Good. We’re a bit struck for time.”

Parker nodded. “But we are going to do it the different way I suggested before.”

Another jet, this time a much smaller, triple-engine jet, colored in plain white, taxied by and, with it, another roar of the engines. Again, the engines kicked up a blast of hot wind and the smell of kerosene followed. The roar of the engines, however annoying, would also make it impossible for anyone to overhear the conversation.

“I need to meet with Dr. Stewart as soon as possible.”

“The meeting with the CDC has been set up for now. They’re already waiting for you.”

“Good. Are you getting an idea of what this involves?”

“Given your interest in the CDC, I would surmise that you will carry a very bad bug into the camp and release it, and as a consequence Mr. Yousef will become sick and quickly die.”

“Right. Or, failing that, it should flush your target out into the open. If Yousef gets sick and has a doctor near him, he’ll likely be told that the only thing that can save him will be very special antibiotics at a high-end hospital. That should limit the number of places he could run to. Meanwhile, if the bug works quickly enough, or if the doctor misdiagnoses him, he dies in his camp.” Parker paused. “Along with hundreds or thousands of others, if you don’t mobilize shipments of vaccine and antibiotics into the region quickly enough.”

“We’ll take care of that,” Scott said. “But what about you? Being that close to a germ like that?”

“You’re right. I’ll need the right antibiotics available. Having them there will be your job, Mr. Scott. I will need the right team there, very nearby, so that I can reach them quickly.”

“We can do that. Like I said, our resources are unlimited.”

“About my team . . .”

“I want my gunny on it.”

“You mean Moncrief?”

“Done. Now we need to get you to London and have you become Zabara as soon as possible. As soon as we have you in place, we will figure how to get you together with your team.”

“What about your team, Mr. Scott?”

Quickly, Scott explained that he’d spent the last twenty-four hours putting the various pieces in place. First, he’d established a command center in London, near where Parker would be living. An ops center would be created at a nearby British air base, where the support team would assemble and be trained. And they’d already started planning for a command center in the eastern mountains of Afghanistan. This one would have to be mobile, able to move at the last moment, as they learned where exactly “Sadik Zabara” was going to meet Yousef.

“Make sure you include the best infectious-disease physician you can get,” Parker said. “And I’ll need him near the meeting point.”

Scott nodded. “Now the bad news.”

Parker smiled, waiting.

Scott returned the grin, obviously relieved to see that Parker, like any good operative, had assumed that there would be bad news.

“It’s about the time frame.”

“Tell me,” said Parker.

“Sadik Zabara finally got his summons from Yousef. They’re to meet in ten days.”