Viral Intent: An Alexandra Destephano Novel Book #3

by Judith Lucci

  Habib continued softly, "Did you do it. Did you turn the virus into a gas?"

  Ali stood to leave, "Why would I tell you? It's not your business. Get out of my way," he added as Habib stood to block his access to the door.

  "Sit down, Ali," Habib pleaded. "Maybe you and I are on the same side."

  "I don't think so, asshole," Ali spat the words at him. "I'm a Muslim and I love Allah but I am not a Jihadist and I hate everything about it. The secrecy, the killing, the terror. It absolutely abhors me. Now, get out of my way."

  Habib put his hand on his arm. "Shhhh. Be quiet, everyone is looking at you. Let us go somewhere where we can talk privately."

  Ali looked around and noted several couples staring at them strangely. Oh shit, now they'll call the police and Omar will kill Nazir for sure. Especially if they know the leak came from me. Once again, terror gripped Ali's chest and he thought his head would explode from anxiety.

  Habib grabbed Ali by his collar and said loudly, "If I hear anything about you calling, texting, touching or communicating with my sister again, I will kill you. Do you get it? LEAVE MY SISTER ALONE!"

  Ali nodded, firmly removed Habib's hand from his collar, and said, "Yeah, Got it, asshole."

  Habib gave Ali an intense look and cut his eyes to the left.

  Ali stormed out of the coffee shop and turned left, walking briskly toward the French Quarter. What the hell was up with Habib? Was he saving his ass or mine with the talk about his sister? As he passed Harrah's Casino, he thought sadly about all of the people who would die there tomorrow. All because of him. The stress squeezed his heart and he could hardly breathe. He, a young Muslim man, a graduate student in virology, would be responsible for the deaths of thousands of people and he wasn't even a believer in Jihad. As he wiped the tears from his eyes, he felt someone walking beside him. It was Habib.

  Ali's devastation turned to anger. "Now what?" he asked accusingly.

  Habib whispered, "My brother, I think we are on the same side. Let us talk."

  Ali gave Habib a shrewd look and said, "Why the hell would I talk to you? You're one of them. For all I know, you are a spy. You're a Jihadist bastard. You're just trying to pump me, see what I am going to do. Get out of my way."

  "No, brother I'm not. I really have changed my beliefs about Jihad. I want to help you stop this. I don't think I can do this anymore. I really don't." Habib looked directly into Ali's eyes and said again, "Please, Ali. Let's go and talk. I want to help you. I want to help us."

  Ali glared at Habib, his voice accusing, "Talk? Why would I talk to you? You killed Yawha. You murdered him, you bastard. He was going to die anyway. Why would I talk to you?"

  Tears were streaming down Habib's face as he uttered softly, "Yes, I killed Yahwa. That's why I know I can never kill again. I cannot do these things. Please, let's go talk somewhere quiet. I think we can figure a way to stop this."

  Habib's words impressed Ali. He shrugged his shoulders and started walking, "What the hell. I don't trust you at all, but we're probably all gonna die anyway, so why not?”

  Chapter 39

  Jack, Stoner, Ted Scott, Bodine and John Houser huddled together in front of the St. Louis Cathedral in the French Quarter. The Quarter was vibrant, animated, and alive with activity. The law enforcement officials were surrounded by laughing tourists bejeweled in Mardi Gras beads. Sidewalk artists engaged in creating and selling their art. Mimes colored gold and silver struck poses as statues. Street musicians played on brass instruments and worn flattop guitars. Dozens of people sipped Hurricane's from Pat O'Briens, Pimms from the Napoleon, or a Gin Fizz from just about anywhere. Others were eating crawfish pie and alligator on a stick. All around them, life was good and people were laughing. The world was a safe place that day in New Orleans.

  Jack and Ted had gone to Mass at St. Louis' as they frequently did each week. Today had been different. They had gone to pray for the safety of the city and its people. During Mass, Stoner had sent them a 911 text.

  As the group briefly chatted outside the Cathedral, Jack's attention was drawn to a mime dressed in silver with red tears running down his painted silver face. The mime had a huge red hole in his heart and carried a torn American flag in one silver hand and a child's gun in the other. Overall, the mime was threatening and sinister in appearance and Jack was overcome with a disturbing and ominous feeling. The symbolism was eerie and Jack shook off a feeling of foreboding. But the symbolism struck a chord ... red tears ... a torn American flag... and he wondered if it was a prediction of things to come. He pushed the mime from his mind and turned his attention to Agent Stoner.

  Stoner's voice was terse, his face solemn. "Let's walk. I've got new info." He paused for a moment and continued, his voice incredulous, "What the hell is that? Is it a parade or something. What I mean is, what are they?" The generally articulate Stoner stumbled over his words as he pointed to a line of beautiful, gaudily-dressed, and bejeweled women walking with great difficulty in five-inch heels on the cobblestones of Jackson Square. "What are they? Are they hookers?" The group sported huge blonde wigs, false eyelashes, purple and blue eye shadow, and airbrushed, nine-inch nails.

  As Jack turned to look, he broke out into a huge grin. "That's a Drag Parade, Stoner. Where you been, man?"

  "Huh?" Stoner mumbled as he searched his brain for meaning.

  "A Drag Parade. We have 'em all the time. They're men dressed as women. We have everything here in the Big Easy. You gotta come for Mardi Gras if this is flippin' you out." At that moment, one of the Drag Queens jumped out of the Parade line and ran over and gave Jack an enormous, wet, sloppy kiss.

  Jack laughed, "Janine, how the hell are you. You got some new threads."

  Janine wobbled precariously on her five-inch heels and said, "CO MAN DUH, come and march with us. We need a little bit of diversity. In fact, you gents can come too. You'll make us look better."

  Jack thought Travis Stoner was going pass out as Janine continued, "We Queens want to be appreciated, and when there's so many of us, it's hard to be noticed. You all will make us stand out. She peered out of her heavily made up eyes and false eyelashes and asked, "Is that you, Commish?"

  Ted laughed and said, "Yeah, it's me, girl. How goes it."

  Stoner thought he might pass out watching Janine move forward to wrap New Orleans Police Commissioner Ted Scott in an enormous hug. Police work was definitely different in New Orleans. He couldn't imagine being recognized or pulled over by people who looked like this. Oh, my god. I would just die. They'd kick me out of the Secret Service for subversive group activity, he thought. Much less being kissed or hugged. For once, he remained in a disbelieving silence.

  John Houser punched him and said, "Hey, Stoner, it's OK. We have them in Baton Rouge too. It's just part of life here.” Bodine just grinned at the men.

  As Stoner began to recover, Jack and Ted were bidding goodbye to Janine and the group of law enforcement officers darted into Jax's Brewery, took the elevator to the second floor, and secured a table overlooking the Mississippi River.

  The afternoon was beautiful, the sky sunny and for once, the mighty Mississippi didn't look like an enormous mud puddle. Jack took that as a good sign.

  Stoner cleared his throat and said, "Well, men, that was pretty interesting. Never seen much like that, certainly not in the Midwest where I grew up. There are a few in DC, but this group," he stammered and continued, "this group is much more memorable."

  Jack laughed uproariously and said, "Seriously, Stoner, you gotta come back during Mardi Gras or just for fun, so me, Bodine and Ted can show you some stuff. I'm sure you need the info to do a better job in guarding POTUS."

  Stoner laughed but shook his head, "Not sure about that one, Jack. But it would be fun to come back and see the sights. Kick back, have a few beers, maybe a Hurricane...." Stoner seemed to be invigorated by the idea of partying with the guys. Or perhaps, it was just the idea of getting through the next few days.

  Ted intervened, "Believe
it or not Stoner, several of that group, Janine being one, are our best snitches. Janine's helped us bring down quite a few perps in the city. Also, we have a great snitch network among our prostitutes. We've really impacted crime perpetuated by the Dixie Mafia in New Orleans. These parade folks have helped."

  Bodine chimed in. “Yeah, Ted’s correct. The Queens are great about sharing info for a little bit of money. They are all over the city, particularly the Quarter, and trust me, they know lots of stuff. They are a tremendous resource for the FBI here in NOLA.”

  "Humph. Interesting. Wouldn't have thought that," Stoner added, still a bit unsure of his colleagues. But, it was their city, their state, so they would know.

  Major John Houser added, glancing at the Commissioner, "That's for sure, Ted. One of those snitches helped us bring down that sniper shooting randomly on Route 10 several years ago, Remember that one, you all."

  "Hell, yeah," Jack added. "That was one bad dude." He turned to Stoner and Houser and continued, "I have four of them helping me look for St. Germaine, but we'll talk about that another day. Okay, Stoner, what new info do you have that you pulled Ted and me out of Mass? Two heathens like us need to be in church, pretty much 24/7," Jack snorted.

  Stoner's face lost all traces of gaiety and happiness in an instant as the stress and strain lines of the past several days returned. He said, "Well, two things. Neither one good. The first is that we believe Congressman Adam Patrick Lee's news conference comments have elevated our threat. There's new intel that the Jihadists are increasing the targets."

  "How's that?" asked Houser.

  "Internet chatter suggests they plan to widen the target.”

  "Huh, don't follow," said Houser.

  "They plan to kill the President, politicians and as many of the citizens of New Orleans as they can."

  Ted interrupted, "How are they planning to kill masses? Any ideas?” His voice was troubled. He felt fear quiver up his spine.

  "It could be explosives, contamination of water supply, gas, who the hell knows. It's wide open. These Jihadists are creative and deadly," Stoner sighed.

  "Is the threat contained to New Orleans?" asked Houser, wondering if he should activate the State Police in Baton Rouge.

  "Far as we know. We've increased the numbers of snipers, undercover officers, etc., but as you know, this city is tough to defend." Stoner ended on a low note.

  "I'll call the Governor for more National Guard," Ted offered.

  "Good. Anything else we can do?" Jack asked.

  "Not yet, at least not that I know of. I'll keep you informed,” Ted assured him.

  Jack was over the edge. "Those fucking sons of bitches," he roared, jumping to his feet. "Never will that happen to my town. Somehow we've gonna beat these bastards. We're gonna get them, the murdering fuckers. What else do you have?" Jack paced around the table impatiently, his face dark with fury.

  "Sit down, Jack and save your energy. You're going to need it. There's a direct threat against the Congressman's family and I understand Alex's grandmother is in New Orleans as well, correct Jack?"

  "Yeah, we've covered there. I've two NOPD over there now at her house and frequent patrols. I know you're planning to send an agent as well, Stoner, to protect Beth Blankenship. Has that changed?"

  "No. I am working on the authorization. Meanwhile, we have an agent with Congressman Lee and Mrs. Blankenship now. Once his news conference went viral, we knew there'd be repercussions."

  Houser was angry as well. "I gotta give it to Congressman Lee. I agree with everything he said and he's an incredible politician but I'm sorry it happened. It just complicates an already bad situation."

  Stoner nodded in agreement and grunted. "Yeah. No question there, John. Congressmen Lee is one of the best, but his lack of discretion has made things worse." Stoner hunched his shoulders and glanced into the angry, beet red face of Jack Francoise. "Jack, just so you understand... it's not a threat to hurt them, Jack. It's a threat to kill them, all of them, and that includes Alexandra Destephano, and I know you are close to her."

  As Jack processed the information, he felt his phone vibrate. He'd had a message from Jason Aldridge. "Call me, Jack. Trouble over at the Destephano house."

  Jack looked at the group. "I'm on my way to Alex's house. There's trouble already. Ted, can you ride with me."

  "Absolutely. Stoner, keep us in the loop. We're available at all times."

  “I’ll send over a back up FBI agent,” offered Bodine. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

  “Thanks, man,” Jack nodded gratefully, his heart pounding in his chest.

  Stoner nodded and Houser added, "Good luck guys, this sucks, it's just really sick and I am pretty worried. Ted, I'll call the Governor for you. Get more National Guard."

  Ted nodded his thanks and rushed after Jack who was already way ahead of him. Shit, this really wasn't good, the NOPD Commissioner thought and for the first time in his life, Ted Scott was really scared.

  Chapter 40

  Kathryn Lee woke up suddenly to a popping noise. Oh, good, Alexandra is cooking popcorn. I hope she has the kind with the cinnamon and sea salt. Surely, she would have. That was her favorite too. What time is it? Where are Adam and Beth? As Kathryn rose from the rocking chair, she noticed the prone body of a NOPD patrolman lying behind a cluster of palm trees in Alex's courtyard. As she moved closer to the French doors to look out, she noticed blood spreading around in a dark circle covering the paving blocks around the palm trees in the courtyard. Oh my God, oh my God, someone has shot the policeman. I've got to call for help.

  As Kathryn turned to reach for her cell phone next to the oak rocker, she heard breaking glass. The French door opened and a man dressed in black entered. He was tall, dark, and bearded. In an instant, he lunged forward, grabbed her by her snow-white hair, and threw her to the floor, cracking her shoulder in the process. Then he banged her head over and over again against Alex's marble floor. Her last conscious thought was her prayer that Adam and Alex would be spared.

  As she lapsed into unconsciousness, she felt herself facing a brisk wind as she cantered on her favorite mare through the sunlit fields of Wyndley as Alex's horse, Dundee watched her sadly from the pasture. And then, there was nothing.

  Chapter 41

  "Alex, Alex, oh no, Alex, I just don't know how to tell you this," Bridgett gasped, tears streaming from her eyes as she burst into Alex's office the second time in that many hours. "It's just awful, but I have to let you know."

  "What Bridgett? You have to calm down. What do I need to know," Alex asked, her heart pounding in her chest. When Bridgett didn't respond in several seconds, she asked again, this time her voice impatient, "Dammit, what is going on? Tell me for God's sake." Alex was beside herself with fear and unease. She could barely breathe. Within seconds, Elizabeth entered Alex's office and placed her arm around Alex's shoulders. Alex pushed Liz's arm away in annoyance. For some reason, Liz's touch irritated her.

  Bridgett raised her tear-streaked face, her blue eyes filled with pain and concern toward her boss and said in a heaving, but small voice. "It's your grandmother. Someone has beaten her up. She's hurt pretty bad."

  "Oh, no. Nooooooo.” Alex could hardly speak as the air whooshed out of her lungs. As she gasped for breath, she demanded, "When, where is she? Where is she? Where is my grandmother?" Her voice was frantic and her eyes terrified.

  Bridgett took a deep breath and continued, "Commander Francoise called and said she's in an ambulance on her way to Tulane. They didn't want to bring her here because of the virus. They thought Tulane would be safer," Bridgett added, bursting into fresh tears that streamed down her face.

  Alex collapsed on the silk sofa in her office stunned and quiet. She was unable to speak.

  Elizabeth sat opposite her in a Queen Anne chair and added, "The Commander asked me to let you know that Robert is headed over to Tulane to see her when she arrives." Liz's voice was controlled and calm. "What can I do for you? What can Bridgett
and I do for you?" Elizabeth’s eyes were gentle as she probed Alex’s face for ways she could help.

  Alex gave them a bewildered, confused look and replied, "Do for me? I have no idea? What can you do for me?"

  Elizabeth nodded and continued, "Jack is coming to pick you up and take you to Tulane. You'll meet Robert there."

  Alex nodded her understanding and asked suddenly, her voice terrified, "What of my grandfather. Does he know?"

  "Yes, he and Mrs. Blankenship arrived with Martin just as the ambulance was taking your grandmother away. Martin had apparently taken the Congressman to the liquor store for some whiskey and Mrs. Blankenship had wanted some wine. Fortunately, he didn't see her. Jack is having Dr. Desmonde come and stay with the Congressman and Mrs. Blankenship for a few hours."

  Alex shook her head incredulous at that bit of information. "Monique, how can she do that? She's ill herself. I don't think she's well enough to go. It’ll cause a setback for her."

  "Well," Elizabeth intoned, "From what I heard, she insisted and as you know, the Commander is no match for the bewitching and stubborn psychiatrist once she makes up her mind. He said he’d take her so she'd leave him alone. Anyway, Josh is taking her over there now."

  Alex smiled thinly, as she imagined Monique badgering Jack in any way she could to get her way. The tiny, dark-haired psychiatrist was a force to be reckoned with, no question and there was no way the bullish, tough, gnarly police Commander was going to ever win an argument with the elegant Dr. D. Alex's eyes implored Bridgett and she asked, "Bridge, can you go over there as well and keep your eyes on my granddad and Mrs. Blankenship? I also want you to keep your eyes on Monique."

  "Absolutely! Of course I will. I can stay as long as you need me to. My mother would just love to run my house and my family for a while. She's always itching to get over there and clean and rearrange my furniture anyway. She'll probably cook up enough food for the next month."