by Mark Donovan
“A Cessna 206 Super Skywagon is a pretty small aircraft,” commented Dave. “That, coupled with the fact it hit the ground at probably around 200 miles per hour, makes me not surprised it was consolidated into such a small mound of wreckage”
Dave walked back over to the cluster of snow machines and grabbed a couple of foldable shovels from them. He walked back to Ron and handed one over to him. The two then made their way over to the mound of wreckage, both limping as they walked.
As they got closer to the mound they could make out more specific parts of the aircraft. The tail of the aircraft stuck up high in the snow mound. The horizontal stabilizer was also visible, however its metal frame was bent in almost an unrecognizable state and its metal skin was shredded into pieces. In front of the tail section the main body of the fuselage was slightly visible. It was crumpled up like an accordion. And in front of it, buried in the snow and dirt looked like what appeared to be the cockpit and cowling of the aircraft.
“Most likely if the terrorist was transporting something as valuable to him as a bioweapon he had it in his possession at all times,” said Dave.
“So unfortunately that means we probably need to start removing snow and dirt up at the head of the mound and work our way backwards,” replied Ron.
“It won’t be a pretty sight, but most likely we will shorten our search time,” responded Dave.
The two men moved up to the head of the snow mound and began shoveling the snow and dirt away from the cockpit and cowling. In just a matter of minutes they had removed enough of the material to see into the cockpit. It was compressed into the volume of a small freezer. The remains of two bodies could also be seen. Dave bent over the cockpit wreckage and looked closely into it.
“Do you see anything that looks suspect?” asked Ron as he stood and caught his breath.
“Possibly. The passenger’s torso seems to be wrapped around a large silver metal briefcase.”
“Do you think we can extract it out of the wreckage?” asked Ron as he bent down to look at the frozen and grisly scene.
“I think so, but we will need to get a couple of crowbars from the snow machines.”
“I’ll get them.” Ron turned and headed back to the snow machines, relieved to step away from the gruesome site for an extra couple of minutes.
Two minutes later he was back and handed one of the crowbars to Dave. Dave slid the business end of the crowbar in between the front window area of the cockpit and began worrying it up and down to loosen the fuselage’s frame from around the passenger’s body. Ron also knelt down and started to use his crowbar to help. Fortunately the bodies were frozen so their corpses gave off little smell. Five minutes later they were able to extract the silver metal briefcase out of the aircraft and passenger’s hands. The briefcase had some serious dents, but otherwise it was in decent shape. Its exterior did not look penetrated.
“Do you think we should open it?” asked Ron.
“We need to,” responded Dave. “Until we open it, we won’t know if we have truly found what we came for.”
“And what are we exactly looking for?” questioned Ron.
“A small shiny metal cylinder. That’s what John Bates suggested the deadly bioweapon maybe being transported in.”
“But what about our safety?”
“Well, since this metal briefcase shows no visible cracks, and the fact that the bioweapon itself is suspected to be in a metal cylinder, chances are the cylinder is still intact. Also, as long as we don’t come directly in contact with the material we should be safe.”
“So how do you want to go about opening the briefcase?”
Dave looked carefully at the briefcase before replying, “I think with our two crowbars we can easily crack this thing open.” Dave slid the flat side of his crowbar up against the seam on one side of the locking mechanism.
“Ron, place your crowbar up against the seam on the other side of the lock. We’ll then simultaneously twist our crowbars and hopefully crack this thing open like a clam shell.”
The two men positioned and twisted their respective crowbars clockwise and then counterclockwise a few times when suddenly the lock mechanism sprung.
They dropped their crowbars and Dave opened the metal briefcase and looked inside. Other than a few magazines and an airline ticket from Toronto to London Heathrow, nothing else was in it.
“What the hell?” Ron vented. “This entire trip and the deaths of these agents was a complete waste.” As he looked up into the sky he saw snowflakes drifting down. “And now it’s starting to snow.”
Dave wasn’t quite ready yet to throw in the towel on the briefcase. He pulled the magazines and airline ticket out of it and started to examine closely the inner walls of the case. The compartment size of the briefcase seemed to be smaller than the outer dimensions of the briefcase. Suddenly, Dave noticed a hairline crack in the center of the upper portion of the briefcase. He pulled his knife out of his pocket and began worrying it in the hairline seam. Once the knife penetrated into the seam a half inch he bent the knife to one side. A small four inch by two inch wedge of the briefcase’s interior lining sprang out. Ron bent down to look over Dave’s shoulder. Surrounded in a one half inch layer of foam was a small metal cylinder.
“That’s it,” yelled Ron. “You found it.”
Dave said nothing. He simply placed the wedge back into position inside the briefcase and closed the briefcase up. “We need to get this back to the CIA’s labs for analysis immediately.”
“Agreed, but it looks like we have some bad weather coming in,” responded Ron as the snow was beginning to fall harder around them. “Not to mention, Chief Davis is in rough shape.”
Dave looked over at Chief Davis who seemed to be resting quietly. “You’re right. We are not going to be able to get out of here ourselves. We will setup a temporary camp to keep the Chief and us warm while we wait for assistance.”
Ron nodded his head in agreement. Dave stood up holding the briefcase tightly, and the two began to make their way back over to the Chief. As they did, a frigid northern wind seemed to intensify the snowfall rate.
Chapter 14 (April 13, Thursday 6:30pm, Europe)
“Hello, hello, Dana are you there,” John Bates urgently asked on the other end of the phone connection.
Sam picked up the phone and handed it to Dana as she rested on the cocktail room floor in a sitting position. The color was beginning to return to her face. A few people had briefly looked in her direction when she fainted, but once they had realized that she was okay and someone was helping her, they returned to their conversations.
“Hello John. I’m back,” replied Dana in a whisper of a voice, as she held the phone tightly in her hand.
“I thought I had lost you there for a minute,” commented John in a worried tone.
“No, no, I’m here. Please tell me all you know.”
“As I was saying, we know there was an explosion where Dave and the Border Patrol recovery team were located, and we have been unable to reach them since. However, we already have another Border Patrol team on their way to their location. As soon as I get any information on the status of Dave I will give you a call.”
“Thank you,” said Dana appreciatively. “Please let me know as soon as you hear something John.”
“That is why I called you right away Dana. I didn’t want you to hear from anyone else before I had a chance to speak with you. We both know Dave is a resourceful and resilient guy, and the crew he is with are exceptionally skilled in tactical warfare and survival training. There are a number of legitimate reasons, besides the worst case scenario, why we cannot reach them on their SAT phones at the moment.”
“I know. I know. But until I hear his voice I won’t rest,” said Dana, her voice still quivering with worry.
“Again, you have my word. I will call you as soon as I hear anything. I better get back to the Ops Center now.”
“Okay, thank you for calling.”
As Dana put the p
hone away in her blouse pocket Sam looked at Dana expectantly. “So what’s going on?”
Dana took a few seconds to breathe slowly and deeply to calm herself. She then explained to Sam the situation with Dave and Ron as she stood up slowly. While she did, the cocktail party was suddenly interrupted by someone speaking loudly over a public address system. The amplified voice was coming from a man in the front of the banquet reception area.
“Excuse me. Excuse me, I have an important announcement,” said a man holding a microphone. The man proceeded to tap the head of the microphone several times. Sam and Dana looked in the man’s direction, but Dana could not see him very clearly. Dana stood on her tip toes to try to see over the heads’ of the other people in front of her. It was one of the lead organizers of the conference.
As the cocktail party goers quieted down and gave the man their full attention, he started to speak again.
“I apologize for having to disrupt your evening, however, it appears in the neighboring town of Eberswalde there has been a sudden mass outbreak of an infectious type of disease causing severe gastrointestinal symptoms. There are reports coming in from Eberswalde suggesting the symptoms are consistent with cholera. The town’s hospital is currently being inundated with patients coming in off the street and there have been numerous deaths already reported by the local police.”
“How do they know it is cholera?” asked one of the doctors in the crowd, a touch of questionable doubt noticeable in the tone of his voice.
“They don’t know for sure that it is cholera,” responded the man. “They are simply reporting symptoms consistent with cholera. Profuse diarrhea, vomiting, dehydration and leg cramps.”
“That many cases in the span of just a couple of hours?” questioned another person in the crowd. “Impossible. No natural disease spreads that rapidly.”
“Again, they are not sure what it is, but the hospital in Eberswalde is in need of desperate help. Assistance from any of the medical doctors in this room would very much be appreciated by the Eberswalde hospital and the government of Germany.”
Many of the doctors raised their hands and voiced their willingness to go to Eberswalde to assist the hospital.
“Thank you ladies and gentlemen. If you could, please report to the hotel lobby entrance in fifteen minutes. We will have taxis ready to transport you to Eberswalde in half an hour.”
Immediately the banquet room started to empty out as doctors and other conference attendees began to exit through the banquet door entrances.
“Sam, we need to go to Eberswalde,” said Dana. “This sounds very similar to what happened in Yemen a couple of months ago.”
“Yes, but we need some sleep and we won’t be able to really see much in the middle of the night,” countered Sam.
Dana hesitated for a minute. Sam was right. Both of them were running on empty after traveling and being awake for nearly two days straight.
“You’re right,” acquiesced Dana. “Let’s get some sleep and plan to drive to Eberswalde in the morning.”
“I’ll give Denzel a call when I get back to my room and tell him to plan to be ready to go by seven o’clock tomorrow morning,” replied Sam, as they continued to slowly shuffle out of the banquet room with the other people.
“And I will stop by the concierge’s desk and reserve us a rental car,” said Dana. “I’ll make sure it is in front of the lobby for us by half past six o’clock.”
Once they made it to the lobby and were about to part ways, Sam gently squeezed Dana’s shoulder and asked her if she was feeling better about the news on Dave.
“Yes, I am optimistic that he is fine.”
“Okay, glad to hear it. I am sure he is okay. I will let you go and will see you bright and early in the morning down here in the lobby. I’ll make sure Denzel is ready to go as well.”
The two parted, Sam heading to the hotel lobby elevators and Dana off in the direction of the Concierge’s desk. As she walked, Dana began to worry again about Dave and Ron. She knew they were very capable men, however, Al Qaeda terrorists were the worst of mankind.
Chapter 15 (April 13, Thursday 2:00pm Western Alaska)
Heavy snow had fallen over the past three hours. Dave and Ron had set up a tent that one of the deceased agents had brought. They placed Chief Davis in it to keep him dry and relatively warm from the frigid air that had descended upon the area. Dave’s keychain thermometer read ten degrees Fahrenheit when he last checked it. To help take the chill out of their bones Dave and Ron had also set up a large tarp between two trees and made a campfire next to it.
“Do you really think that another team will attempt to rescue us in this snowstorm?” asked Ron.
“I do, although I am sure they are having a rough time making any headway,” responded Dave. “I would not be surprised if we don’t see them until tomorrow morning. It is treacherous terrain, even in the best of conditions. We had the luxury of seeing some of the obstacles along our route due to the recent snow melt. With this fresh snowfall, those poor guys won’t have that luxury.”
Ron shook his head in agreement as he placed another log on the fire. Dave was crouched down by the fire warming his bare hands. Changing gears, Ron looked over at the metal briefcase next to Dave and said, “So what do you think “Scarface” and his just as crazy buddies had planned with the contents of that suitcase?”
“I assume they had similar intentions to what was done in the village near Mocha, Yemen,” replied Dave. “I believe this time they were planning to introduce their bioweapon to a town or city in one of the lower forty eight states.”
“So you think they were just passing from Canada into Alaska so that they could more easily work their way down into the continental United States?”
“I do. Once they made it into Alaska they most likely would have worked their way down to Seattle, Washington either by plane or boat without the headaches of coming in on an international flight or commercial marine vessel.”
“And once they made it to Seattle, they could easily move around to any state, city or town they wanted to,” concluded Ron.
“Since working with Homeland Security for the past couple of years I think I have a little better understanding of how these terrorist organizations work,” responded Dave. “Most likely they had plans to strike a small town in the heartland of the country. Though most of these radical Islamic groups want to wipe non-believers of Muhammad off the face of the earth, they still get a sick pleasure out of first inflicting terror on their enemies.”
“So they start out small and target the least expected for maximum terrorist effect,” responded Ron.
“Sadly that about sums it up,” agreed Dave as he poked the fire with a stick.
“Then we need to do everything in our power to stop them.”
“We are on the same page Ron. As soon as we get out of here I will talk with John Bates and the Secretary of Homeland Security. I will offer NSurv’s full support in developing a solution for detecting this particular bioweapon contagion. I’ll also offer our assistance to the United States government in tracking down and helping to wipe off the face of the earth the terrorist bastards responsible for producing this engineered pestilence.” Dave reached down and gently placed his hand on the icy cold metal briefcase lying next to him.
Ron looked over at Dave and said nothing more. Ron could see from the intensity in Dave’s eyes, eyes that were transfixed on the flames that shot upwards from the campfire, that he was already deeply focused on his plan of attack. It was a determined look that included both anger and revenge.
As Ron transitioned his gaze from Dave to the fire, Ron was also sure Dave was reflecting on the loss of his mother and father. It was December 21, 1988 that Dave lost both of his parents. They were enroute back to the United States from Heathrow, England after an extended vacation in Europe. They were traveling on what was known at the time as the “Clipper Maid of Seas”. Unfortunately, the vessel had not been a ship. It was instead an aircraft, a Boe
ing 747. It was only the fifteenth jumbo jet ever built, and it was constructed in Seattle, Washington. The aircraft also was fatefully known as Pan Am Flight 103. The airliner that had crashed over Lockerbie, Scotland, brought down by Libyan Islamic jihadi terrorists who exploded a bomb on the aircraft. And a crime that eventually Muammar Gaddafi, the leader of Libya at the time, admitted orchestrating. Dave had only been a sophomore in high school at the time and Ron knew the loss of Dave’s parents had been devastating to him.
When Dave and Ron were in college, Dave one night broke down and opened up to him about the loss of his parents. He explained how he and his sister had to subsequently move in with his aunt and uncle, and how he felt like a burden to them. But most significantly, he described how it changed his perspective on life and the human race forever. The event had caused Dave to become introverted and much more circumspect about people and life. Dave had described to him that he only seemed to find solace in his loss through focusing on his studies.
Dave’s parents had been hardworking farmers from the heartland of the United States. They had been innocent victims of a jihadi war. A war that to this day continues to rage on due to radical Islamic fundamentalist leaders that are bent on destroying everything around them. Like himself, Ron knew that Dave could not understand the rationale in the sick minds of terrorists, and in particular radical Islamic fundamentalists. A crazy rationale where the thought in taking the lives of innocent victims somehow would further their own cause. Ron was sure that Dave, like him, was now more committed than ever, to cut off the head of the radical Islamic fundamentalist leaders responsible for planning to kill millions of other innocent victims with their latest weapon of mass destruction.
A shiver ran down Ron’s back, and it was not from the falling snow, and nor was it from any fear. It was instead, a shiver of excitement for knowing that the days ahead would be about saving innocent lives, and for cutting off one of the sickest heads of a deadly serpent.
Chapter 16 (April 13, Thursday 9:00pm Eberswalde, Germany)
