John F. Kennedy International Airport, New York City
Sherrie sprinted down the hallway toward the room where the Syrian refugee woman and her children were being held. She had been checking in on Alexis Morrison, the Director having asked for an assessment of her condition that didn’t begin with “Da-ad! I’m okay!”. But Alexis was okay. She had taken a good wallop to the head yet she was conscious and alert, the medical staff at the airport merely recommending monitoring for a concussion.
In fact, she had just been discharged when Sherrie got the call.
She threw open the door, the startled guard jumping to his feet, the children staring up from their coloring, their eyes wide, their mouths agape.
And no Amira.
“Where is she?”
“Bathroom.”
“How long ago?”
The guard shrugged. “Not sure. Ten minutes maybe?”
“And that didn’t make you suspicious?”
Another shrug. “She’s a woman. Don’t you take longer?”
Sherrie pointed at his radio. “Lock this place down! Now! We need to find her!” Sherrie stepped back into the hallway to see Alexis Morrison walking toward her, her head bandaged.
“What’s going on?”
Sherrie pointed toward the exit sign at the end of the hall. “Get your ass out of this building as fast as you can!”
Alexis just stared at her, a stunned expression on her face.
Sherrie grabbed her by the arm, hauling her toward the exit. “Move! If anything happens to you, your father will kill me.”
Alexis peered through the door where Amira’s family was. “What about the kids?”
Sherrie stopped, glancing into the room.
They’re just kids!
“Take them.” She pointed at the guard. “You make sure they all get out of the building and off airport property, understood?”
He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
Amira stood, her arms out to her side, one of dozens if not hundreds sent out among the millions fleeing. Only she hadn’t realized it. She was a devout Muslim and she did support the ultimate goal of ISIL—the establishment of a global caliphate—though she didn’t condone their methods. Identified when they captured her town as someone who could speak English perfectly, they ultimately forced her to be their mouthpiece, spouting their hatred for consumption worldwide.
At first it was difficult, almost sickening, though they had treated her and her family reasonably well. And that was the way it was in the Caliphate. If you were of use, then you were left alone. But with so many converts and true Muslims coming to fight for the Caliphate, many from the United States, England and Canada, who already spoke English and quite often had a white face, the need for her skillset had diminished.
So they had found a new purpose for her.
And she had refused.
And they killed her husband for it.
“We lost you in Austria of course,” continued Marwan, the man apparently enjoying sharing information on how helpless she truly had been all along. “This was disappointing, but the possibility had always been there. In fact, you were expected to die on the boat ride, so many do.”
She said nothing as Marwan continued to work, images of that harrowing journey flashing before her eyes.
“When Mahmoud spotted you on the plane, it was blessed news. I was to deliver Allah’s justice, my job here having been set up over a year ago in anticipation for something like this. The weapon arrived yesterday by ship and I was able to easily get it inside the airport with other supplies.” He tapped a wooden leg. “Very easily.”
She glanced down, her eyes seeing nothing, unable to focus on anything.
“It’s too bad Mahmoud died. He didn’t know what the true mission was. I assume he feared you might tell the authorities something that might stop us. He should have just let you get off the plane. I was there, in the jetway, waiting to intercept you, but his actions unfortunately messed up our plan. But Allah is merciful, and Mahmoud paid the price, and He gave us a second chance. Me a second chance.” He tapped his security pass. “I simply followed you then waited. I knew it would only be a matter of time for things to settle down.”
She drew a breath, holding it for a moment. “Why me? If you were going to do it anyway, why do you still need me?”
“Because it is Allah’s will.”
“I-I don’t understand.”
“You weren’t meant to be here, yet here you are. You are a symbol. A symbol of their arrogance. A woman whose family was saved by the infidels, whose faith is so strong she would still kill them by the thousands. That is a powerful message that will make the infidels realize how strongly we all believe in our cause.” He shook his head, plugging in what appeared to be the last loose wire of a terrifying looking device. “I can’t wait to watch the reaction over the coming days.”
She examined the contraption strapped to her chest then closed her eyes, picturing her family. She had no choice. With their lives on the line, she would be forced to fulfill the mission she had refused weeks ago.
Her husband had died for nothing.
Tears filled her eyes and she thought of her children. They would be safe and that was her only concern the entire time. Her husband was gone, but their children would survive. She would sacrifice herself for them, the family of martyrs honored.
Will they remember their mommy?
A tear rolled down her cheek as Marwan stood up in front of her. “You understand how it works?” he asked, pressing the trigger into her hand.
She nodded. “I let go of the button and it detonates.”
“Yes. It’s called a dead man’s switch. You remember what you’re supposed to say?”
Tears flowed. “I remember.”
“Good. Feel free to embellish, you were always good at that.” He fixed a robe over her shoulders, covering the weapon. “When you are finished, I will make sure your family is released and rewarded for your sacrifice. The shame of your husband’s cowardice will be forgiven.” He suddenly grabbed her by the shoulders, his eyes wide and bright, a smile on his face. “Be not afraid! You are serving Allah and His will, and today you further the cause of Islam, and for that, you are guaranteed eternity in paradise!”
She forced a smile, a single bob of the head all she could manage, then wiped the tears from her face.
“Ready?”
“Y-yes.”
Marwan pulled open the door and she stepped out of the utility room and into the mass of travelers oblivious to the danger she represented.
An alarm sounded.
Sherrie pushed open the door and stepped into the public area of the terminal, an alarm blaring. She cursed, having assumed that her orders to search for Amira would have been followed a little less publicly. She activated her comm. “This is Agent White. What’s that alarm?”
“It’s the radiological alarm. The system’s detected something radioactive, off the scales!”
She could hear the panic in the man’s voice and feel it in her own stomach. This was their greatest fear—the Cesium reaching home soil, and now here she was, perhaps only yards away from what would probably be a slow, painful death. “Where’s the alarm?”
“Multiple triggers. It appears to be on the move. It’s in Terminal Five.”
“Okay, evacuate that area, but if you ID the bomber, don’t interfere, just stay out of their way. The longer they hold off triggering the device, the more people we can evacuate.”
“Understood.” There was a pause. “Umm, you’re sure this isn’t a drill?” The voice lowered. “The supervisor here says it’s probably just Homeland testing us.”
Sherrie closed her eyes for a moment, stupidity universal. “Tell them that Agent White of the CIA is confirming that this is not a drill. If they still don’t believe you, have them contact Langley. You need to evacuate this airport immediately, otherwise thousands could die!” She looked about, trying to gain her bearings as hundreds if not thousands rushed about in all directions, panic setting in as guards seemed to be simply moving them along in no particular direction. She spotted a sign. “Where did you say the weapon was?”
“Terminal Five.”
“Jesus, that’s where I am!”
“Wait, another detector just went off. They’re heading north.”
She scanned the crowds, searching for someone not in a panic, someone moving with a deliberate purpose, someone moving against the flow. But there were too many. She cursed the entire situation. If they had only had the time to properly screen all the refugees, this woman’s face would have eventually shown up, but they had believed her sob story and expedited her to safety.
Yet it had all been bullshit.
According to what Langley had told her, she was their mouthpiece, perhaps a zealot, perhaps coerced, but either way, she was working for the enemy, a Tokyo Rose of her time.
And now she was loose in one of the busiest airports in the world, with tens of thousands of people that could be contaminated when she detonated the weapon.
Though that wouldn’t be the biggest effect.
From her briefing on Cesium-137, she knew that it contaminated anything it touched, and if they detonated a Cesium laced weapon inside the airport, it would be radioactive for decades, the half-life thirty years. The only way to get the airport back up and running would be to tear the entire thing down and cart it away.
Hundreds or even thousands might die, but the impact on the nation would last for years. The shuttering of JFK would cause a massive disruption to the business of the nation, and would be another reminder of its vulnerability, just as the open pit of Ground Zero had been for so many years until construction had finally erased the scarred landscape, replacing it instead with a memorial to the fallen and a 1776-foot-tall testament to the American spirit.
A detonation here would be equally devastating.
The corner of her mouth turned up with the start of a smile.
There she is.
She pushed her way through the crowd, closing the distance.
Not on my watch, bitch.