“You?” A.J. said through clenched teeth as he got up off the floor. “Why?”
“I have my reasons”, Faarooq answered. And just then, without hesitation, he unleashed a leg kick to A.J.’s thigh. The force of the impact sounded like a firecracker, as shinbone struck muscle. A.J.’s leg buckled momentarily, and he took a step backward. The two were among the best-trained bare hand fighters in the CTG, and had squared away against one another before in training and competition. But now the stakes were higher. There were no mats, no rounds, and no rules.
Faarooq was standing, guarding the door – the only exit out into the hallway. A.J. knew the man he now dueled with was a more skilled standup fighter, and sought to take the action to the ground. He inched closer, and with remarkable quickness made a dash for Faarooq’s legs. The terrorist attempted a sprawl to counter the takedown attempt, but it was too late. A.J. had generated enough momentum to pick Faarooq up off the floor and force him to his back, hitting the cold hard floor with vicious ferocity. A.J. was now positioned on top of the traitor, his body between the terrorist's legs in what martial artists refer to as the "guard" position. The posture not only allowed the man on the bottom to control his combatant’s body, but also allowed for offensive maneuvers. Indeed, Faarooq had caused many an opponent to yield, or “submit”, on the sparring mat from the guard. But A.J was no foreigner to the art of Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, with its countless joint manipulations and chokes. He felt confident he could defend and still make the most of the dominant top position.
A.J. began softening up his opponent, throwing numerous fists and elbows to Farooq’s head and body. Faarooq tried to block as many strikes as possible, and crossed his ankles around A.J.’s torso in an attempt to keep the top man in close proximity. The less separation, the less power there would be behind the blows. But the constant pounding began to take its toll, as a swollen ruddiness began to manifest on the terrorist's face.
A.J. momentarily paused his attack. “Where the fuck is C.J.?” he asked
“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he dies a quick, painless death” Faarooq retorted as he used his heel to kick A.J. in the flank. A.J. immediately responded with an elbow strike that found its way cleanly to Faarooq's forehead. Blood began to ooze from the wound as the skin above Faarooq’s right eye parted in response to the sharp blow.
“You’re going to be in no position to do anything by the time I get through with you, you traitorous fuck”, and A.J. immediately continued his torrent of elbows and fists, now aimed primarily at the injured right forehead and eye of the terrorist.
Faarooq could feel blood oozing from his head. It was beginning to seep into his eye and cloud his vision. He knew he had to act fast. He shifted his shoulders and weight to the left and then whipped around to the right, hoping to lift A.J. off his body and reverse the position.
Despite the torrent of blows he was delivering, A.J. was wary of Faarooq's craftiness from the guard. He made sure not to extend an elbow, lest it get caught and wrenched in an armbar. And he certainly expected the counter attempt Faarooq was now employing. A.J. stopped striking to secure his base by shifting his weight and balance to resist the momentum the man beneath him was generating. A.J. slowly began to feel his oppponent abandon the reversal attempt and slump backward, again into the guard. Without the element of surprise, A.J. was simply too strong and skilled to be thrown from the top position. He immediately resumed his assault. A.J. didn’t just want to finish the man quick – he wanted to punish him in the process. Once he was satisfied, and only then, would he deliver the knockout blow. There was no skill involved, no sublime tactic employed. He simply hoped to beat the man to a pulp. This terrorist surely held valuable information, not the least of which was the location of his captured brother. But extracting information from the man was secondary. At that moment, all A.J. could think to do was hit the traitor as hard as he possibly could. He was consumed by anger and not thinking rationally. The blows being delivered were not measured; rather, they were delivered unchecked - intended to inflict maximum punishment irrespective of whether the recipient might be maimed or even killed.
At this point Faarooq was a thoroughly beaten man. But this was not a controlled fight; this was a real duel, and there would be no surrender and no one to get the crazed operative off of him. He was purely defensive, jockeying around to avoid the blows as much as possible. It seemed that nothing would stop the violence; the hatred and adrenaline coursing through A.J. seemed to drive the operative to maintain the ceaseless barrage well beyond the limits of fatigue. But fighting was an art, and one could not hope to maintain such a pace indefinitely. A.J.’s paroxysm of violence suddenly ceased as he sought to rest. His seemingly superhuman stamina had run out, and A.J. now just rested on top of Faarooq's body, his breathing heavy and labored.
The terrorist was still reeling despite the reprieve, his vision almost gone completely from his swollen right eye, his head dizzy from the punishment he sustained. But if he were to do anything, it would have to be now, before the operative on top of him regained his strength. Faarooq immediately grabbed A.J.'s right hand and wrist and immobilized it with a firm two-handed grip. His mind was hazy, but the movement was automatic, ingrained in his reflexes and muscles from hours spent on the sparring mat.
A.J. recognized the tactic, and immediately sought to free his arm. But fatigue and rage had dulled his fighting instincts – he could not react in time. Faarooq had already swung his legs around A.J.’s neck, all the while maintaining his grip on the operative’s right arm. A.J. tried desperately to bend the elbow and roll with the movement to reposition the arm so that it might slip out of the hold. Straining with all his might, A.J. was able to maintain a bend in the elbow, thereby protecting the joint against hyperextension. But he could not escape the grip of the seasoned fighter who now immobilized the limb. A.J. was the stronger of the two, but this was not simply about strength. This was about position and leverage.
Straightening his hips, which now acted as a fulcrum, Faarooq steadily increased the force on the captured arm. It should only be a matter of time now before A.J.’s strength would be depleted beyond the point of resistance. But the operatives each held their ground, neither budging from their present position. Faarooq marveled at A.J.’s ability to resist the extension despite the tremendous torque on the arm. But his patience was rewarded as the elbow ultimately succumbed to the tremendous force generated by the jujitsu submission. With remarkable quickness, the limb suddenly straightened and then snapped backward in an impossible, sickening extension. The ensuing sound - a sharp crack - signaled just what had occurred; A.J.’s arm was broken in two.
With no resistance left in the shattered limb, Faarooq released his grip. Each man was exhausted as they now made their way to their feet. The agony could be seen on A.J.’s face as his right arm dangled uselessly at his side. Faarooq appeared even more beaten – his face was grotesquely swollen and bruised, his vision limited by the swelling around the right eye. But the condition of the two battered warriors was vastly dissimilar at this juncture for further combat. Faarooq, despite being dominated for most of the bout, was essentially intact for battle. He could aptly strike, defend, and maneuver on his feet. His natural stance – left side facing his opponent – allowed him to see the unfolding movements clearly from his unaffected eye. A.J., in contrast, would have to drastically compensate for the injured limb dangling uselessly by his side. Recognizing his foe’s predicament, Faarooq addressed his former colleague as they circled round one another in their respective fighting stances.
“A.J., it’s over”, the terrorist intoned.
“Yes, it is” A.J. replyed, lowering his eyes in apparent resignation. But the response was a ruse. Just as A.J. finished speaking, he feinted as if he were backing down, and without warning unleashed a high kick to Faarooq’s already bruised eye. A loud slap rang in the air from the contact.
Faarooq was unfazed – it was the foot, and not the shin, that connected. He
also managed to partially block the blow with his arm, and immediately stepped in to counter with strikes of his own. A.J. regrouped, trying to keep his assailant at a distance with sharp leg and body kicks, but to little avail. Faarooq lunged towards A.J.’s exposed right side, forcing the one-armed operative to the ground. Rather than land on the injured limb, A.J. spun around to his right, fatally exposing his back. Faarooq pounced, sliding his forearm under A.J.’s neck and began to squeeze. There was nothing A.J. could do to prevent the cessation of blood flow to his brain from the textbook “rear naked choke”.
Faarooq maintained his hold for almost a full minute before releasing his grip and allowing A.J.’s limp, lifeless body to slump to the floor. The terrorist stood up, breathing heavily from the effort, and looked at the dead body of his former colleague and friend. He did not intend for things to end like this, but there was no other choice. The bodies of the two guards also lay on the ground, and Farooq knew he had to make his way out of the building right away.
Faarooq retrieved his gun, put on the lab coat he had taken from one of the scientists he had disposed of within STAT, and took out a vial of fluid from the coat pocket. He emptied the contents across the room and ignited the flammable material. He would destroy any forensic evidence of his presence – not that this was at all critical at this juncture. For he did not intend to ever return. He had obtained what information he could from the files stored within the STAT lab, and planned to board a plane home to rejoin his Sayf Udeen brethern.
A hat and a pair of dark glasses covered the bruises on his head and face as Faarooq casually walked past the guards at the front door and out into safety. It would be several minutes before the fire would trigger any alarm. By then he would be gone, signaling the end of his long undercover journey. Years had been invested in this assignment, and now it was time to reap the rewards. It was time for the greatest Sayf Udeen spy to return to his people. Everything that could be done to help Bill Kelly and the Agency wipe out Qaeda and other Udeen rivals had been accomplished. Faarooq had wrested what secrets he could from the vaunted spy agency over the years, and with the evening’s bold offensive a missing piece of data that had eluded him for so long had finally been retrieved. The intelligence had nearly cost the Udeen fighter his life; the battle with A.J. could have easily gone the other way. But luckily on this night, in what had been a struggle to the death, by the grace of Allah he had prevailed. The Great Satan of the West would soon bear the wrath of the Muslim world, and there was nothing these kafir infidels could now do to avert the inevitable. Nothing.
Chapter 9
Leo’s first day of work was anything but routine. Security was especially tight, as investigators swarmed the Langely complex following the fire on the STAT floor.
An armed guard greeted the scientist as he approached the entrance to the facility.
“Yes, good morning sir”
“Good morning”, Leo said as he showed his identification to the burly man at the security desk. Leo then placed his palm on the screen beside the metal detector, which served to confirm his fingerprints, and successfully gained admission to the STAT floor. He followed the signs overhead to the scientific wing, and as he rounded the corner, Leo could see a small crowd hovered down a hallway to his left. Yellow police tape was strewn about, and an awful, burnt odor emanated from the area.
As Leo arrived at the main entrance to his lab, He was greeted by a warm smile belonging to a petite woman with sharp elfin features.
“Welcome, Dr. Koval. Allow me to introduce myself. Elaine Song. I run the protein core here at STAT.”
“Hello – nice to meet you.”
“Doctor,…” Elaine began.
“Please, call me Leo.”
“Leo”, a smile reappeared on the woman scientist’s face, “Dean Alivastos asked if I might show you around. He’s preoccupied with an emergency this morning.” Dean was in charge of STAT and was to greet and orient Leo that morning to his new environs.
“Yes, I noticed quite a commotion back there. What happened?”
“You don’t want to know. Someone got into the unit last night. They’re investigating.”
“Wow. Was anyone hurt?”
“Yes, unfortunately. Two guards and one of the operatives from upstairs were killed.”
“Jesus – how did anyone get in here?”
“That’s one of the things they’re trying to figure out I guess. But make sure your ID is visible at all times. Security’s going to be even tighter than usual around here.”
“I understand” Leo responded, and took in a deep breath, hoping to calm his nerves. He couldn’t help but feel a bit shaken by the news of the security breach – first at his lab at Columbia, and now right under the nose of the Agency at their own Headquarters. If he couldn’t feel safe here, in the most protected of environments at CIA headquarters, then how would he ever maintain any peace of mind.
“Anyway, Leo, what happened was a tragedy. But we must continue with our work…and most importantly you must get oriented here quickly. I was asked to show you around. I hope what happened last night won’t be too much of a distraction”, his companion asked, acknowledging the internal strife within the physicist.
“I’ll be fine, Elaine. Thank you.”
“Good.”
Leo was taken to his lab, where he would be spending much of his days toiling away at uncovering the secrets of 94. The array and sophistication of the equipment was impressive, and he was introduced to a team of personnel that were assigned to assist him in his endeavor.
“Impressive. I do think you have seen to everything I might need.”
“And whatever we might not have thought of will be provided at your request. I know about the importance of your work doctor, we all do, and will personally support you in whatever capacity we can.”
“Thank you. How long have you been here Elaine?” Leo asked, curious to learn a bit about his new colleague.
“I was recruited to STAT almost 9 years ago. They were starting a molecular engineering division, and needed someone facile with DNA and protein manipulation and analysis.”
“You’re a molecular biologist then?”
“Yes.”
“Interesting. So how did you end up here?”
“I was at Stanford for nearly 5 years. My grant was up and it was time to reapply for funding, when I got a call from Dean, whom I had known for years through a colleague. Anyway, he made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. They give me what I need, I don’t have to worry about grants - It’s fantastic. And you can’t get more cutting edge.”
“So you do independent research? I don’t get it. What is the CIA doing funding research?”
“The work that’s done here is all a means to an end, but I do work on some projects of my own. They’ve got to keep us happy, right” the affable scientist said with a warm smile on her face.
“I guess. Bill Kelly didn’t tell me much about the STAT unit, so I’ll be learning as I go along.”
“Well, let me fill you in a bit then. The evolution of the Scientific and Technology Anti-Terror, or STAT, group is quite remarkable actually. Years back, the agency had consultants and industry experts, but was always hoping for a tighter foothold in the scientific community. The events and failures of nineleven propelled the Agency’s budget to record highs and facilitated a more directed investment in counter-terrorism technology, what we call CT technology. STAT represents a dedicated CT research and development team, designed to develop novel applications from both preexisting and new technologies and sciences. We still liaison with major Universities and seek outside expert review when necessary – such as your friend and colleague Dr. Martin Lee. But I can tell you that is happening less frequently as we grow. And the really great talents out there, we lure them internally – like you, Leo. We provide resources, funding, whatever it takes to attract the talent.”
“What resources or funding did I get?” Leo asked as he pointed to himself, one eyebrow raised in a
somewhat mocking expression, one of sarcasm yet with genuine overtones.
“You”, Elaine replied, a smile on her face, “You Leo we acquired cheap I guess. We didn’t have to buy you; circumstances dictated your joining us. But now that you’re here, you can call the shots. Your budget is virtually limitless. The only thing that’s asked is that whatever research happens here stays here unless clearance is obtained first. Nothing may be released to the public domain without approval. That’s the catch. They’ve let you in, but nothing you work on gets out. This is about survival, not academia.“
“I figured as much”
“Yes, I know. But I was actually asked to remind you of this specifically. And I was asked to tell you this too - you may hear about some pretty distasteful things while you’re here. STAT was involved in many clandestine developments, some of which might rankle even the most tough-minded people. Just keep in mind, everything we work on is geared towards one common goal - defending this nation.”
“Understood.”
“But as I said, when you’re finished with what you have to do here, if you wish to stay, you will be given latitude to work on projects of your own choosing. If you care to stay on, that is.”
“Hmm. We’ll see about that. Okay Elaine, thanks.”
“No thank you Leo.” Elaine’s response was uttered with complete earnesty. The upper echelon of STAT was aware of the urgency of Leo’s work, that 94 was the highest priority project within the unit. Leo would have all the support he might need. But the main obstacle might not be so easily overcome – time. He and the rest of the team would be racing against time to unlock the secrets of this new substance before it was too late.
Leo went back to the physics lab, introduced himself to the staff, and got right to work. A collection of 94 was already in the chamber of the cyclotron, awaiting bombardment and analysis.
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