Waterkill (Dave Henson Series) (26 page)

Chapter 41 (April 18, Monday 5:00am, Persian Gulf)

CIA Director John Cote was sitting alone at a table in the officer’s wardroom of the USS George H.W. Bush aircraft carrier when Dave and Dana walked in. He lifted his eyes up from the report he was studying and rose from his seat as they approached.

“Dave and Dana, it is a pleasure to see the two of you again,” said Cote as he shook their hands vigorously and gave them both a warm embrace and pat on the back.

“I know the both of you are exhausted so I’ll keep our conversation short and to the point.”

“Thank you,” responded Dave wearily. “At least we were able to take some much needed showers before meeting with you.” Dave and Dana smelled of fresh soap and still had wet hair from the showers that they had just taken, but they had at least been able to run a comb through their hair. Dave had also been able to get in a quick shave. Each were wearing civilian clothes that had been provided to them by the ship personnel.

“I don’t think you could have stomached the smell of us otherwise,” joked Dana as she looked over at Dave with a tired, but warm smile. 

“Well, hopefully the two of you can also get some much needed sleep soon,” responded Cote with a raspy sounding laugh. He then shifted the conversation to the reason why he had asked them to meet with him.

“I have been looking over the written transcript of the report you filed Dave while en route back to the ship,” said Cote. “You seem convinced that this Spencer Williams character is headed to the United States to release more of this bioweapon material that Aref Zarin called Waterkill.”

“Yes I do,” said Dave. “Zarin said his plans were already in motion and Spencer was not at his residence when we attacked it. Stewart’s team also reported seeing two men leave the residence in a vehicle around ten o’clock in the evening.” Dave glanced up at the clock on the wall in the officer’s wardroom and saw it was already past five in the morning. “Or at this point I should say last night.”

“Spencer also was responsible for causing the attack in Eberswalde, Germany,” said Dana.

“So do you have any thoughts where he may deploy this Waterkill material next?” asked Cote while scratching his head and contemplating Dave and Dana’s previous responses.

“He did not hint at any target locations when I had dinner with him,” responded Dana. “He just ranted on about the decadence and evil ways of western civilizations, and how he wanted me to plead his case to the American public on why they should convert to Islam and Allah, or die.”

As Dana spoke, Dave was running through his mind the brief exchange of words that Aref and him had had just before Aref’s head was decapitated from his body.

“There was something that Aref said to me just before he was killed that was odd,” said Dave to Dana. “Do you remember what it was?” he asked.

Dana thought for a moment. “He mentioned something about there will soon be no big d in America.”

“Big d.” repeated Cote slowly. “Dana, did you say big d?”

“Yes, does that mean anything to you?” asked Dana.

As she asked the question a smile began to form on Dave’s tired face. The repeated reference to big d finally dawned on him.

“Dallas,” said Cote. “He’s headed to Dallas, Texas.”

“Big D,” responded Dave. “It’s the nickname for Dallas. When Zarin had made the statement I thought he was suggesting that there was no way to defend against his bioterrorist weapon.”

“Jesus Christ,” said Cote. “That Spencer bastard is on a mission to murder over one million people.”

“We need to stop him,” said Dana. “If he left Iran over seven hours ago he may just about be entering the states.”

“That’s not going to happen,” said Cote. “His passport is on our terrorist watch list since two days ago. He’ll never make it into the country, at least not under that name or via a secure airport.”

“I don’t think he plans to enter the country via commercial aircraft,” responded Dave.

“Do you think he’ll fly in on a private aircraft?” questioned Cote.

“No, I think he’ll walk in,” replied Dave.

Cote and Dana looked at him with odd expressions.

“How do hundreds of illegal aliens enter the United States each day?” asked Dave.

Cote gave a quick laugh of sad acknowledgement.

“From Mexico,” answered Dana.

“Exactly. My bet is, that as we speak, Spencer is onboard a private aircraft en route to Mexico. From there he’ll hitch a ride north to the Mexico/Texas border, cross the Rio Grande and then on to Dallas.”

“I will contact the Homeland Security Director McDonald right away,” responded Cote. “He can coordinate with the local Dallas and Texas state governments to shut off the city’s water supply as a precaution.”

“It’s a good first step,” responded Dave. “However, we need to capture Spencer to prevent him from deploying it somewhere else. If he hears that the Dallas city water supply has been shut down, he will just find another major city to poison.”

“How are we going to find and capture him?” asked Dana.

“We hold off notifying the Dallas and Texas authorities, or at least the public, and we set a trap to find him before he infects the Dallas water supply.”

“That’s a pretty high stakes gamble,” responded Cote. “You’re suggesting putting over a million peoples’ lives at risk.”

“It’s not as bad as you may think,” replied Dave.

Cote and Dana looked at Dave as if they were analyzing his head to see if his brain was suffering from exhaustion.

“What do you mean?” asked Dana.

“I spoke with Ron recently. It turns out my NSurv team has developed a system to neutralize the cholera toxin generated by the bioterrorist weapon.”

Dana and Cote looked at him incredulously. “Already?” asked Dana questioningly.

Dave continued. “Yes already. So even if Spencer releases the canisters of bioterrorist material we can effectively make the weapon inert. Thus the water will remain potable.”

“Is this a theoretical system or a real system that can be deployed?” questioned Cote with skepticism.      

“They already have a working model of one, and Ron told me that they will have a system large enough to deploy in a major city within the week. Also, until we can find Spencer, we can have Dallas authorities test the water supply hourly for any traces of the cholera toxin with NSurv’s water testing kits, the same ones we used in Yemen and Germany. If they detect any of the toxin they can immediately shut down the water supply. This way the chances of anyone becoming infected with cholera is mitigated. I can have Ron ship out water testing kits to Dallas immediately.”

“Okay,” said Cote slowly as he reviewed the plan in his head. “I will talk with McDonald and the White House and see if they are amenable to your plan.”

Director Cote pointed his finger at Dave. “If they do, then you and your colleague Ron will need to be ready to deploy the water treatment system within the next forty-eight hours. According to what you are telling me about Spencer we don’t have a week.”

Dave shook his head in agreement. “I will give Ron a call right away and tell him what’s at stake. I can assure you that Ron and the rest of my team will have a system ready within the next forty-eight hours. I’ll also have him ship the water testing kits to Dallas immediately.”

“Good. Now I advise the two of you to go get a few hours of sleep, right after you call your colleague. You’re scheduled to depart this hunk of steel at ten o’clock this morning. You’ll be flown to Germany, and then catch a SAC aircraft from there back to Andrews.”

“There is one more issue,” interrupted Dave.

“And what is that?” asked Director Cote.

“Your department has a leak. I was almost killed in Turkey because of it. Also, Aref knew in advance about our attack on his residence.”

Cote nodded his head in agreement. “We are aware of it and are working to locate the breach.”

“Okay,” responded Dave in acknowledgement. “So for now, I would respectfully request Director Cote that you limit your conversations with anyone in your organization to as few people as possible about our plans.”

The CIA Director nodded his head in agreement. “Any conversations with my staff will be limited to a very few.”

Chapter 42 (April 18, Monday 4:00am, Mexico)

It was pitch dark out and dawn was still a couple of hours away, but he finally made it to the banks of the Rio Grande River. After flying into Mexico City on Zarin’s private jet, Ahmad had charted a pilot to fly him up near the Mexico/Texas border in a small Cessna 172 Skyhawk.  At a dirt airstrip he had hotwired an old beat up 1980’s vintage Ford 4x4 truck and driven it to within a mile of the border. From there, he had walked the remaining distance to the banks of the Rio Grande. 

Ahmad looked across the river at the lights of Granjeno, Texas. They were twinkling in the midnight air as if they were beckoning him back to the Promised Land. The sky overhead was pitch black as there was a thick cloud cover obscuring any light from the moon or stars. The dark sky seemed to accentuate the small sleepy town’s street lights.

He was lying prostrate on the ground next to scrub brush in Mexico, just a hundred meters from the Rio Grande River. Glassing the other side of the river with a pair of night vision binoculars, he checked for any sign of border patrols. The last border patrol SUV had passed by the section of river he planned to cross five minutes earlier. It was at this section of the river that he was told the Rio Grande was shallow and narrow enough to walk across, and that there was no wall or fence on the other side to impede his crossing into the United States. From what he had observed over the past hour, the border patrol seemed to follow a prescribed schedule. Every thirty minutes a patrol vehicle would cruise by at a fairly good clip, following its arranged route like driving on an oval racetrack.

He made one final one hundred and eighty degree sweep with the binoculars and saw no sign of border patrols across the river.  He stood up and removed his boots and pants and stuffed them in his knapsack that was lying on the ground next to him. After cinching the strings on the knapsack closed, he picked it up off the ground and slipped his arms into its straps. With the knapsack resting in position on his back, he reached down and grabbed onto the two thick canvas handles that were attached to a large heavy duty black duffle bag. The bag weighed nearly twenty kilos due to the single metal suitcase that it concealed.

With all of his gear collected, Ahmad walked barefooted down the embankment to the water’s edge of the Rio Grande River. The water felt warm and refreshing on his feet and legs as he made his way into and across the shallow river. At mid span the water only came up to his thighs and the current was very light. No wonder so many illegal aliens with children pass through this location he thought to himself as he stepped from the water’s edge onto the United States side of the river. He had made it across in only five minutes.

Ahmad wasted no time and quickly made his way up the river embankment. He saw that he was walking into a park. Even in the darkness he could make out children swing sets and barbeque pits. At the far side of the park he could see the road that paralleled it and the river. Immediately to his right he made out the dark shadow of a small restroom building. He walked over to it and pulled his shoes and pants out of his knapsack and put them on. Two minutes later he continued walking in the direction of the road.

As he neared the edge of the road he looked in both directions for any approaching vehicles. None were in sight. He modified his scan for parked cars. Across the street, fifty meters up from him on the right was a neon sign advertising a cheap roadside motel. In its unpaved parking lot sat several vehicles, their owners asleep in their adjacent rented rooms. He looked up and down the road one last time checking for any moving vehicles. Seeing none he made his way as quickly as possible across the road, lugging the duffle bag beside him.

After crossing the road he walked in the direction of the motel. He had walked half the fifty meter distance to the motel’s parking lot when two men stepped out of an all-night bar that bordered the motel. They began walking in his direction. He had no choice. He had to just keep walking towards them. He was sure that they had already seen him and any quick and sudden moves to attempt to hide from them would only raise their suspicion.

As they approached each other Ahmad had sized them up as locals. He could also tell by their loud talking and unsteady walking that they were half in the bag. As he came abreast of the two men Ahmad said “Good evening gentlemen,” in his most refined English accent. Not that it was a stretch for him since he had lived in the United States all of his life.

The two men seemed almost unaware of him as they passed each other, not even reciprocating his very late evening pleasantry towards them. Hmm, he thought to himself. “They’re probably so used to seeing illegals passing through their town nowadays that they’re blind to it,” said Ahmad to himself, as he continued on his way.

He proceeded to the motel parking lot and went from vehicle to vehicle looking for one that was unlocked and had keys in it. In the end, he only got half lucky. A beat up old Chevy Cobalt was unlocked at the far end of the parking lot, but he found no keys. No huge impediment, however. He pulled a screwdriver from his knapsack and five minutes later he was headed north on Route 281, en route to Dallas.  With any luck, and Allah willing, he would be in Dallas in about eight hours.