Joshua sat down in one of the open seats closest to the door. Will flopped down in the open seat across from him. The conferencing television screen was already powered up, and three men were seated at a similar table, staring back at them from the television screen.
One of those men was their commanding officer, Commander Mark Dewitt. The man next to him was Captain Silas Spade who had very similar physical features to their CO. The last man at the table was much older, at least in his late sixties, and his bushy hair was completely white.
Joshua had a tremendous amount of respect for Team Fourteen’s CO. Mark Dewitt could accurately be categorized as a HAM—hard ass motherfucker. His impeccable leadership had garnered him many accolades and much admiration throughout his distinguished twenty-three year career with the Navy. Joshua had been a member of Mark’s team through multiple tours of Afghanistan and Iraq and the CO had a reputation for being an incredibly astute military strategist who was also as tough as nails.
A few seconds later, the deep timbre of their CO came through over the speaker of the secured phone.
“All right men are all of you present and accounted for, except for Jax?”
As the highest-ranking Team Fourteen member present, Joshua answered the question. “Yes sir.”
“Good. Here with me I have Dr. Ezekiel Kale who is a virologist from the Centers for Disease Control and Captain Silas Spade from Central Command. First things first, nice job on the recovery operation of Henning. I spoke with medical personnel at the Landstuhl Medical Center, and Jax is recovering well. He should be able to fly back to the States in a couple of weeks. He will be off active duty for an extended period of time, but should make a full recovery. In regards to Henning, he has already boarded a flight back to the United States and I’ve been told that he is in good condition.”
Joshua and Will glanced at each other. Yeah, Henning was doing all right, considering that a radical Islamic militant group had beaten him to hell and back. It could have been a very different homecoming for him entirely. Like coming home in a pine box.
“Now let’s get down to the brass tacks of why we are here,” their CO continued, “We have some extremely troubling intel coming into Central Command from out of Langley. There are several ghosts who are reporting in that Richard Henning’s kidnapping wasn’t just some random attack on an influential American.”
Ghosts or spooks were slang terms in the covert operations world for intelligence operatives who existed in anonymity while gathering valuable intel in foreign terrain. These operatives had earned their moniker because of their uncanny ability to operate unnoticed.
Being incognito was imperative for not only the operative’s safety, but also for the procurement of important intelligence information in foreign regions. Joshua had personally met some CIA operatives both during and after they had completed an assignment. The operatives’ capacity to go deep undercover in non-English speaking countries still amazed him.
“One of our key operatives in South Waziristan has obtained credible information that the radical Islamist group that captured Henning is now in the market for smallpox samples,” their CO continued.
Leaning forward in the swivel chair that he was sitting in, Will asked, “Smallpox? What the hell … you think they’re planning a bioterrorism attack? Where?”
“Right now it is very difficult to come to a final conclusion one way or another, Will. At this point, the intelligence reports that are coming in from those reporting from the field are still disjointed. However, there is definite movement on the part of the Haqqai network to obtain some of these samples.”
“Where would they be able to get their hands on smallpox samples from, sir?” Joshua asked.
“The only smallpox samples that we know are in existence today are in the United States and Russia. We’ve accounted for all of the U.S. samples, and they remain under lock and key at one of the Centers for Disease Control’s offices. We have reached out to Russian intelligence officials, but getting an actual confirmation from them as to all of their samples being accounted for will undoubtedly be a real shitshow.”
At that moment, Steel leaned forward in his chair, toward the intercom. His deep voice resonated throughout the crowded room, “But smallpox was eradicated decades ago right? Even if this group managed to get their hands on some samples and released them, how would it be effective?”
“Eh hmm. Excuse me, if I may Commander Dewitt. This is Dr. Kale speaking,” an old, gruff voice took over the line. “Yes, it is correct that smallpox has been classified as to having been eradicated—with virtually no reports of the disease being made after 1980. Vaccination campaigns started in the late 1880s against the disease until early 1980, eventually led to herd immunity. But, since herd immunity has been reached, vaccinations of the present child to young adult population have been nonexistent. What this means is that these unvaccinated individuals will be particularly vulnerable to the smallpox virus if it were released.”
The mood around the conference table suddenly shifted from guarded apprehension to somberness as the team took in the news. Pensive glares, deep frowns, and crossed arms—the tension in the room was so thick and palpable that it could have been cut with a knife.
“Before its worldwide eradication, smallpox was one of the most infectious and crippling viruses,” Dr. Kale continued. “In its heyday, smallpox has been estimated to have killed over 300 million people—resulting in the decimation of populations. Now millions of young Americans are not vaccinated against the disease, and the highly infectious nature of the virus would mean that if released on U.S. soil, there would be massive loss of life.”
“Isn’t there some sort of treatment for the disease, beside vaccinations?” Ensign Jesse Denison inquired. Jesse was relatively new to the teams. He was twenty-six-years-old and hailed from Louisville, Kentucky. Jesse was the only ginger-haired one in the bunch, but he usually had it dyed some darker color for overseas missions. Right now, his hair was a dark brown. In addition, he had a smattering of freckles across his nose.
Despite his youthful “Leave-it-to-Beaver” appearance, like all of the Team Fourteen members, he was incredibly astute. He had obtained advanced degrees in both human psychology and Arabic. He was the most reserved Team Fourteen member by far. So whenever he actually did speak up, people took notice.
“Inoculation from the disease is the most effective measure. After the infection has occurred the only other treatment options are palliative in nature,” Dr. Kale briefly paused for a moment and then continued, “In other words, there are treatments available to address the symptoms of the disease in order to improve the patient’s quality of life—but there is no cure. The mortality rate for patients infected with ordinary smallpox is approximately 50%. The mortality rate for patients infected with hemorrhagic smallpox can be as high as 90%. A weaponized version of the virus will most assuredly be in its most lethal hemorrhagic form. Make no mistake; a release of this virus on U.S. soil to an unvaccinated population will be devastating.”
“As you can see, once this shit hits the fan it is going to be rolling downhill real fast,” Commander Dewitt interjected. “We have to get a handle on what the tangos’ end game is here. So far, there are conflicting reports as to if and where the Haqqai group is planning to unleash the smallpox. This could just be an impotent attempt to gain recognition in the destabilized region as a potential player. But some reports are stating that this group is aiming to affect targets within the Afghanistan-Pakistan region while other reports point to an attack on U.S. soil.”
Well this is just fuckin’ perfect, Joshua thought. After the 2010 raid that killed Osama bin Laden, most Americans lived in faux comfort. With the Al-Qaeda terrorist element mostly dismantled, many Americans believed that there was no need to fear additional terrorist attacks in U.S. territory.
Joshua and his comrades, however, were privy to the undeniable truth—that there were still terrorist cells around every corner, the average American
citizen just didn’t know about it.
“Right now, there are teams of ghosts located within both Afghanistan and Pakistan who are busting their asses overtime to answer the ‘if’ and ‘where’ questions,” Mark Dewitt continued.
“How long will it take to develop this intel, sir?” Ensign Frank Lewis asked.
“If I were able to answer questions like that Frank, I’d try my hand at the Mega Millions,” their CO replied dryly. The rest of the team gathered around the table chuckled a bit—it was a brief moment of levity given their current topic of conversation. “But what I do know is that right now you all have to be ready to be wheels up at a moment’s notice. We don’t have much information on the Haqqai group yet, and we don’t have a solid grasp on where they are based or even who their central leaders are. Using context clues, however, we can assume that their mission is to negatively affect U.S. interests.”
“Are there any disease surveillance protocols that are in place currently, to track whether or not a smallpox outbreak is starting somewhere?” Joshua asked.
“Right now, there is the BioSense program. BioSense is our national notifiable disease surveillance system, where U.S. physicians are required to report to the CDC persons infected with certain symptoms of listed diseases. The problem with this reporting method is that by the time medical providers report symptoms it will likely be too late. Smallpox spreads like wildfire,” Dr. Kale answered. “The most assured protection is inoculation, but at this point, that will be the last case scenario. Vaccinating millions of Americans for smallpox would sound an alarm to the terrorists and may actually hasten the disease’s dissemination. In addition, given the potential side effects of the vaccination, it could take many months before the current population reaches herd immunity. If we begin to receive reports of individuals being infected then the other type of action that we could take would be to isolate those individuals who are infected or quarantine the group of individuals who have been exposed to the virus.”
“On the military side, we are also investigating potential laboratories that could be used by this terrorist organization in order to weaponize any stolen samples of the smallpox virus,” Mark Dewitt added.
“But basically our hands are tied right now?” Will asked into the intercom.
“Yes, for the moment,” Mark Dewitt said. From the expression on his face, he wasn’t happy about the situation. SEALs were men of action, so knowing that a palpable threat to U.S. citizens existed, but not being able to do anything about it was extremely frustrating.
“But we have operatives in the field and stateside analysts who, as we speak, are trying to gather and interpret as much information as they can about the Haqqai group,” Dewitt continued, “They couldn’t have just appeared out of thin air, but right now they are a fucking mystery. For the time being, the Team will stay put there in Germany and continue with training exercises to prepare for go time. I’ll be joining you at Ramstein within the next couple of days. Any more questions?”
“I have one, sir.” All of the SEAL Team Fourteen members simultaneously turned their heads to the left end of the table as Luke piped up. The soldier had sandy brown hair and stood at over 6’0’’ on a good day. Luke was relatively new to the Team—having been on SEAL Team Fourteen for one year—and he was probably the most talkative. He was also one of the youngest members; he’d just turned twenty-four a month ago.
“What about Henning, sir? I mean his kidnapping. What are the odds that he’s snatched up right when this Haqqai group is gearing up to unleash a bioterrorist attack? It seems suspect. Does he just have incredibly piss poor luck or is it possible that he’s somehow twisted up in this shitstorm?”
Now that was the million-dollar question on everyone’s mind. It wouldn’t be the first time that a privileged American had been found elbow deep in a cookie jar that they shouldn’t have been in.
“Listen Luke, at the moment we do not have any indication that Henning was more than an innocent victim of a rogue terrorist cell. But you had better believe that we have people who are thoroughly vetting the former Congressman and his acquaintances. Okay men, if there are no more questions, you are dismissed.”
Chapter Five
W
ill loved to run. Given how conditioned he was, he could run six miles flat out before his hands even started to shake, or before his legs faltered.
He wasn’t just a distance runner either. Not to be mistaken, he did have endurance but he also had speed. He had started out in track in high school, and had earned numerous metals in all of the “-yard dash” categories.
For the past seven years, every morning when he woke up—rain or shine, he did a five-mile run. So naturally, after the team’s post-mission briefing with their CO, and knowledge that they would be staying in Germany for an extended period of time, he sought out the best running trail.
The trail that he had become accustomed to began in a recreational park at the rear of the Ramstein Air Base where the SEAL team members’ housing accommodations were located, went past the medical center, and ended up at the Rhine River. It was now mid-October so his running gear consisted of a heavy gray sweat suit and a beanie. Today, he’d made it to the riverfront in under twenty-eight minutes.
Well, well, what do we have here? To his surprise, leaning forward with one long leg stretching out on a bench near the water was Dr. Olivia Lewis.
She was wearing a black sweat suit with her long brown-blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail that nearly touched her waist. She looked athletic, yet fragile. And that was one hell of a combination. That impossibly slim body of hers was now contorted into an awkward, gravity-defying position. Olivia didn’t seem to notice him approach because she didn’t make any attempt to stop stretching or turn toward him.
“Hey.” Olivia started at the sound of his voice, almost tipping over. She turned around, a startled expression on her face. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
Recognition flooded her face. She removed her leg from the bench and slowly straightened her position. She was visibly uncomfortable, twisting her fingers around her long ponytail. A light sheen of sweat was on her face. She was also fidgeting slightly, shifting her weight from one foot to the other as she looked up at him.
“Oh hey. You didn’t frighten me.”
Will took a step forward toward Olivia, and she automatically took a step back. She really was a tiny woman. Will estimated that she was of about average height for a woman. She couldn’t have been more than 110 pounds soaking wet. At 6’4’’ and over 200 pounds, he dwarfed her.
“I didn’t know that you were a runner,” he said while she stood there staring back at him. Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. Will could not figure out what her problem was for the life of him. Women generally fell in droves for him. He managed to charm the pants—quite literally—off most of the women that he came across. And honestly, he had never really had to try that hard before.
“Why would you? I just met you the other day,” she replied, turning around to resume her run.
“Yeah, well I was thinking that maybe we could change that,” Will said quickly, before she could take off on him. He plastered a smile across his face and tried to go on a charm offensive with her.
Olivia slowly turned back around to look at him squarely in the eyes. Will pressed on, “You know maybe we could grab a drink or something after one of your shifts at the hospital.”
“Look, I hope that you don’t take what I’m about to say the wrong way. I’m sure that you’re a nice enough guy, but you’re not really my type,” Olivia replied matter-of-factly. Her gorgeous blue eyes were as icy cold as the Rhine River flowing beside them.
He let out a dry laugh that was filled with irritation. “Well, that’s good to know Dr. Lewis. You know, I was just trying to be nice to you because you’re friends with one of my best buds. But since we’re being honest here, you are not really my type either, sweetheart. You’re too skinny for my tastes. I also prefer my women
less mouthy.”
Will wasn’t sure how she would respond to his insult. He was half-expecting that she would try to clock him in the face. She was a tiny woman but he did not doubt for a minute that if she swung on him, she would give it her all to try to lay him out on the ground.
In a million years, he couldn’t have foreseen her actual response to his provocation. She smiled at him. She really had an incredible smile.
The only thing that ruined the moment was the fact that that very smile happened to be accompanied by her right middle finger, which she threw his way right before she turned around to finish her run back to the medical center.
****
Colleen Bradshaw was finally making headway. She leaned forward in her seat to squint down at the Macbook Air screen before her. She looked around her small apartment and up at her living room wall clock, and saw that it was already close to five o’clock p.m. Picking up the reading glasses that she’d placed on the table an hour ago, she put them back on and then peered closely at the illuminated screen on her lap.
Colleen worked for the National Security Agency. The NSA acted as a complement to the Central Intelligence Agency and the Federal Bureau of Investigation’s counterintelligence unit. NSA agents acted in such heightened anonymity that, even in the covert operations world where virtually everyone was wrapped in shadow, the NSA was jokingly referred to as “No Such Agency.” She was what those in the military community called a ghost. The only agents scarier than ghosts were JSOC operatives known as “snake eaters.” You sure as shit had better be ready to meet your maker if one of them ever came knocking at your door. Though odds are they wouldn’t give you the courtesy of a knock.
Colleen was a seemingly nondescript, white female, with long, dark brown hair. Some would even say that she had a mousy appearance. Maybe she did have a mousy appearance. But she worked hard to preserve that appearance. In the covert operations world, it generally wasn’t recommended for agents to stand out. Therefore, Colleen had become quite the expert at blending into her surroundings.
Pushed to the Edge (SEAL Team 14) Page 4
