Viral Intent: An Alexandra Destephano Novel Book #3

by Judith Lucci

  He laughed out loud. “You would hate it. I’ve been on her bad side and it’s not a happy place to be. Anyway, she never said what she was thinking. She never put Mary Sherman and the polio virus in perspective.”

  “You’re right. I guess she was too busy picking Jack apart and spitting me out. We’ll have to check it out tomorrow,” Alex said, stifling a yawn.

  Robert looked around the kitchen. "Well, I’m all done. Let me get out of here and go home so you can get to bed. If things go well, I’d love to see your grandparents.”

  “That would be great. Grand and Beth Blankenship are staying here. You know that Ben Blankenship was my grandfather’s mentee and really close to my family, right?”

  “Yes, I do. I am so sorry. You have told me several times. All of this is just terrible. Is there anything else you need before I leave?”

  “No, Robert. Thanks for coming and for helping. You’re such a wonderful friend and you are so good to me.”

  “Of course I am, Alex. I love you,” Robert whispered, as he kissed her on the cheek, turned the brass door handle, and left.

  As Alex watched him walk through her courtyard to his silver Mercedes, she shivered. The night had turned cool, but the loss of Robert’s warmth left her cold, empty and scared. What would happen to them if the terrorists were successful? The thought scared her as she headed back toward her bedroom, cutting lights out as she passed through the lovely well-appointed rooms in her house. Life had seemed so good yesterday. What the hell had happened?

  Chapter 22

  Nazir was tense and anxious as he looked at the Muslim leaders clustered in a circle on the floor in his Marigny apartment. Six prayer rugs were neatly folded by the window and the entire room was littered with Styrofoam carryout containers and paper products. Eight AK 47s had been stashed in a closet and two others were under his sofa. Nazir’s eyes felt like burning torches in his head. He wanted nothing more than to lie down for a good sleep. Night prayers had not lessened his anxiety about the mission, even though it was the work and plan of Allah.

  The two brothers, who had arrived around 7 p.m., had done nothing to allay his anxiety. They were strange and distant and did not want to talk with him. Habib, the older one had spent most of his time on his cell phone, while Syed had spent his evening checking his watch every 5 minutes, looking sullen and watching TV. They had ventured out for a while, but both had declined his invitation to tour the French Quarter and “check out” the surroundings.

  Ali had arrived home shortly after 11 p.m. and had fared better with their house guests. The three had interacted well and enjoyed a huge meal from the food Nazir had picked up earlier from the best mid-Eastern restaurant in New Orleans. A short while later, Omar Hassan and Mohammed arrived and feasted as well. In their only moment of privacy since Ali’s return from work, Ali told Nazir that he had seen Habib and Syed smoking hookah with several men at a bar on his way home from work. Nazir pondered this and wondered what it meant. Were they part of the mission?

  “Nazir, what do you know about the Russian?” Mohammed Abdu spoke to him sharply as he locked eyes with the paranoid Nazir.

  Nazir was jerked back into reality as he stared into the intent face of Mohammed Abdu. He also noticed Omar watching him closely for any reaction and once again, Nazir’s paranoia skyrocketed. He shrugged his shoulder in reply. “Nothing, I know nothing. Just as said to you this morning. I have been to his apartment many times today. I have hunted for him in the bars and restaurants where we met in town, and I have sat on benches near the River looking for him in the crowd. He is gone.” Nazir realized his voice sounded apologetic and that made him mad. He knew he couldn’t control the movements of Vadim, but still, not knowing made him seem weak to the leaders. “Besides, he is difficult to find anyway. He is a master of disguise.”

  “When did you last see him?” This question came from Omar. His voice was gentle, prodding.

  Nazir wondered if they were tag teaming him, playing good cop, bad cop. He was overwrought and on edge. “Let me see, today is Thursday, well, Friday, now, I guess. I saw him Monday afternoon. We met for a Hookah at Aladdin’s.” Nazir rejected his good cop bad cop theory. Muslim Jihadists, particularly Muslim leaders would never adopt the tactics of Westerners. It was unthinkable.

  “How did he seem? Did he act any different?” Omar asked, watching Nazir carefully.

  Nazir’s denial was emphatic. “No. He was just like always. He said he had the virus and would call me to set up a time to meet again for the exchange. We left on good terms. All was well.” Nazir looked around the group for encouragement but he saw none. Omar and Mohammed were watching him carefully, while Habib looked bored. Nazir flinched from Syed’s penetrating eyes. He got bad vibes from the guy. Scary, evil, sadistic vibes. Habib pulled out his text phone to check his messages. The only friendly face in the room was Ali who gave him a brief smile of support. “I had no reason to suspect him of anything,” Nazir continued, his voice uncertain and a little defensive.

  “It’s OK, brother. We believe you,” Omar admonished as he turned to Ali and asked, “Ali, what about the virus at the hospital? Do you know what it is?”

  Ali shook his head. “No, we do not. We have tested for all the normal viruses such as Ebola, Dengue, Marburg and so on. It is a strange combination of viruses and the CDC hasn’t seen anything like it. They are mystified.”

  “What do you think,” Mohammed demanded. “Certainly you have some idea, correct?”

  Ali was a bit taken aback by the harshness in the leader’s voice, but replied clearly, meeting Mohammed eye to eye. “I don’t know for sure. I could not establish a projection model or a prediction algorithm because the virus is so diverse and quickly mutating. Some people died from bleeding, some from fever and seizures, and most others seemed to have died from a bad pneumonia. I am uncertain what it is. It will take more time.”

  “There is no time. Can you go back tonight, or more correctly, this morning, or even now, and do more testing?”

  This wasn’t a question, it was an order and Ali knew it. “Sir, I…”

  Ali’s response was interrupted by a pounding on the door and the sudden appearance of Yahwa. The NOPD snitch framed the doorway of the small living room, holding onto the wall for support. He looked pale, and he was unstable on his feet, and obviously sick. His eyes had a tortured look. He was sweating profusely and his hand was slowly seeping bright red blood. Yahwa raised his good arm to motion for Syed to put down his automatic weapon.

  Syed didn’t budge, and keep the weapon trained on Yahwa’s heart.

  Nazir stood to help his comrade. “Yahwa, you are ill. Did you see a doctor?”

  Yahwa shook his head. In a hesitating voice, his speech slow and weak, he gasped, “No, no American doctor. Will get better. I have a fever. Feel very sick, but I just had to come and report to…. ” Yahwa was seized by a violent fit of coughing, and to everyone’s horror, Yahwa coughed up a large amount of bright red blood. Instinctively, the circle became larger as all five men moved as far away from Yahwa as possible, bracing their backs were against the wall.

  Syed had his hands extended out, as if to block any germs that Yahwa might have expelled.

  “Nazir, get him out of here before he infects us. He is contagious and we don’t need to be sick.” Mohammed’s voice was angry as he barked orders at Nazir.

  “He is OK. He has an infection. He was bitten by a monkey today and....”

  Omar nodded to Habib, who rose from the circle, grabbed his weapon, and roughly grasped Yahwa by the arm and jerked him toward the door.

  Nazir tried to help his friend but Habib pushed him roughly to the side.

  Yahwa was too short of breath to speak, but his face, moist with perspiration, was frightened and bewildered. He looked at the automatic weapon with fear in his eyes.

  In a quiet and controlled voice, Mohammed spoke. “It is all right, Yahwa. Habib will take you home. You are too sick to be here and we have work to do. We will
check on you tomorrow."

  Nazir and Ali stared helplessly as Habib dragged Yahwa from the apartment. Nazir found his voice and said, “I will go with him and help. I know where he lives.”

  Mohammed glared at him. “Be seated. Habib will be fine. We know where he lives as well. He doesn’t need any help. You must tell us the security set up since Yahwa cannot. We must have the security plan in detail to carry on.”

  Nazir’s heart almost stopped and his gut felt like it would explode. He sat down on the sofa and stared at the Jihad leaders. He was speechless, his face pale and drawn. He struggled for control. It was difficult not to cry, and he knew if he did, the leaders would regard him as a baby. He would lose all respect.

  Ali looked at his brother with dread. He could taste Nazir's fear. Ali knew now that he hated Jihad. He seriously doubted that Habib was taking Yahwa home. Screw the idea of Holy War. He liked it in the United States. He always had. He enjoyed the American way of life and was proud to be an American Muslim. After this was over, he would never entertain the thought of Jihad, and in fact, might work against it. But for now, he was scared and he knew he had to cooperate. He spoke softly to Nazir, “My brother, what is the matter? We must share the security plan with the leaders. Tell them what you know.”

  Nazir stared at his brother, his eyes big, his body slumped in defeat.

  Once again, Mohammed’s voice was harsh with contempt though his face remained calm and serene, “What is wrong with you? Tell us the security plan. We need the electrical drawings for the hotels and the Convention Center. Tell us.”

  Nazir shook his head and looked at the Jihad leader “Brother, I do not know. Yahwa would not share the information. He said I had no need to know. He said you had instructed him not to include me. I have no information."

  Mohammed gestured to Omar and said, “Contact Habib and have him return with the drawings. See what he can get from Yahwa." He turned his attention back to Nazir and demanded, "Did he say anything to you at all that could be helpful?”

  Omar walked outside to make his phone call.

  “He only said there were undercover NOPD everywhere, snipers on the roofs and that the FBI and Secret Service were working with them. That is all.”

  Mohammed's gaze was intent as he growled at Nazir, “This is useless. This same information was on CNN tonight.” He tapped Omar on the shoulder and they disappeared into the bedroom.

  Ali, Nazir and Syed sat quietly in the living room. Ali suspected that Syed was there to guard them.

  Nazir knew Ali was anxious and terrified. He was scared as well. The gestures and eye contact between Ali and Nazir spoke volumes.

  Syed watched both men as he cleaned his nails with a file.

  Ali’s terror saw the file as a weapon.

  After a few minutes, Ali stood and said, “I’m going back to the hospital. Perhaps I can learn more about the virus. I will call you, Nazir, with any information I learn.”

  Nazir embraced his little brother, his only friend and the only person in the world he loved and trusted and said, “Go with Allah, little brother.”

  Ali nodded at Syed and left.

  Nazir wondered if he would ever see Ali again. He also wondered if he would see nightfall.

  Chapter 23

  Alex sat up in her bed, wet with sweat and overcome with panic. Is someone in my house? Did I hear something? Am I hearing things? The terror in her heart rose to exponential levels as she listened intently for any unusual sounds. She thought she had heard the slight click of a lock as a door closed. The clock on her night table glowed three in the morning, and the ticking sounded like a time bomb as it reverberated through her ears.

  There, I hear it again. Someone must be here. Alex slid to the side of her bed and opened her night table drawer, and took out her small silver derringer .45. She smiled grimly to herself as she remembered the last time she had used it. It had only been eight months before, but it seemed like eons ago. Thank God her grandfather had made her an excellent shot as a young girl. She groped for her cell phone and then remembered that she had left it in the kitchen, too tired from the evening before to retrieve it and plug into the charger by her bed. She silently rose from her bed, slipped on her robe and moved quietly from the bedroom area of her house into the hall where her house phone was located cursing herself for her stupidity all the way down the hall.

  She picked up the house phone gently and muffled the sound of the dial tone with her hand, just in case someone was in the house and could hear it. As she placed the phone to her ear to dial 911, nothing happened. Her anxiety escalated when she realized the phone was dead. There was no dial tone. It was then she noticed the dogs down the street were barking furiously. Her heart was beating at panic levels and she was dizzy.

  It's amazing how the most wonderful place in your life can become the most terrifying. How dare some SOB enter my home without my permission. Alex's fury overcame her judgment for several moments as she continued her trek silently toward the kitchen, searching for her cell phone, her derringer in her hand. As she passed her living room, she felt a cool draft. One of the French doors leading to her terrace was open. Alex's fear climbed as she reached the kitchen and dialed 911. Then she dialed Jack Francoise. He answered on the first ring.

  "Alex. What's the matter?" Jack's voice was alert, but tired. She heard a female voice murmur, "Is Alex OK?"

  "Jack, someone's been in my house. My French door is open, the double one in my living room. They were locked and shuttered when everyone left last night." Alex stammered a little but her voice was clear. She could feel the panic eating at her flesh.

  Jack could hear the fear and quiet desperation in her voice. He knew she was scared. "Get back into your bedroom, and lock the door. We'll be there soon," Jack's voice was low and angry and insistent as he added, "It’s OK, Alex, you'll be just fine."

  "OK. Will do," Alex murmured as she clicked off.

  As Alex returned to her room, she heard the sound of a distant siren. Within several minutes, floodlights brightened her house and yard and there was a loud, insistent knocking at her front door.

  "Ms. Destephano, Ms. Destephano. Are you all right? It's Josh, Elizabeth's friend."

  Alex immediately remembered Josh, the young policeman from Jack's station who had helped her several other times when she had experienced unwanted activity at home. She gratefully opened her front door and greeted him and his partner, a young Asian-American cop she hadn't met before.

  "Thanks for coming, Josh," Alex said breathlessly. "I woke up, thought I heard something, like a door closing, sort of like the soft click of a lock. I came in here and the French door was open."

  Josh moved over to the door. "Yes, it's been forced open. Look at the lock, Jimmy," Josh said as he motioned to his partner. “By the way, Ms. Destephano, this is Officer James Smith. He’s my new partner.”

  Alex nodded her head and extended her hand. “Nice to meet you, Officer Smith. Thank you for coming.”

  “You bet. Thank you ma’am. I am happy to be of service,” Jimmy said as he examined the door and nodded. "Yeah, for sure, man, it's been forced. Sorry for this ma'am," Jimmy said apologetically as he looked at Alex. Josh had told him that Alex was one of the Commander's favorite people. God forbid that he should piss off one of the Commander’s friends. "Let me call in and see if we can get someone over here to dust for prints."

  "Thanks, Officer Smith. I truly appreciate it." Alex's voice was emotional and she had tears in her eyes. She tried to wipe them away so the NOPD officers wouldn't notice but it was useless.

  Josh was pretty sharp and was about to say something when another NOPD officer entered the front door. It was Mac Mackenzie.

  "What 'cha got, Mac? Did you find something out there?"

  Officer Mackenzie, nodded at Josh and said, "Yeah man. We got fresh foot prints outside the French doors. Looks like a size 10 or so. Unusual tread in the tennis shoes. Not like anything I've ever seen before. Sure ain’t one that looks
like an Adidas or Nike shoes like I’ve ever seen."

  "Can we get a plate?" Josh asked.

  Mac nodded. "Yeah, man. No problem. He looked at Alex and said, "Your automatic sprinkler system was good to us tonight. The prints are fresh and deep in the soil. They should make a great plate for easy identification."

  Alex smiled gratefully at the young officer and said, “Thank you, Officer, that’s really good news. Maybe we’ll get lucky and figure out who my intruder was.”

  “Alex, Alex where are you?” Jack’s voice was loud and demanding.

  Alex and the NOPD officers looked toward the foyer just as Commander Françoise entered the living room. Both officers saluted as Jack waved them at ease.

  He gave Alex a gentle look and said, “What the hell is going on here? I just left here three hours ago and things were perfect. Can’t you stay out of trouble for just one day?”

  Alex walked toward Jack and gave him a big hug. “Thanks for coming, Jack, but you’re a bit late. Your men have done all the work and they’ve done a good job.”

  “They damn well better, right guys? By the way, somebody give me a report,” Jack demanded his voice now serious. The time for joking was over. He stared at Josh and asked, “What do you have?”

  As Josh reported their findings to Jack he was interrupted by Jack’s cell phone. Jack motioned for Josh to stop.

  Alex could tell by the look on Jack’s face that the phone call was bad news. He turned his back on the three of them and talked softly into the phone as he moved toward the kitchen. As Alex and the NOPD officers stood quietly looking at each other, she heard the telltale sound of her Keurig heating water. Jack did love her coffee maker. As the Commander re-entered the living room his face was subdued and his tone was solemn.

  “Get dressed, Alex. That was Yvette on the phone. There’s more trouble at the hospital.”