Face of the Earth

by Doug Raber

  —The Daily Beast, February, 2012‡

  Day 30: Letter of Intent

  Edwards went home Wednesday night. He was sick of sleeping in his office, and he needed clean clothes. Better to be fresh and rested than just to sit around waiting. When he returned to his office just before 7:00 the next morning, Zaborsky was waiting for him.

  “What’s up, Bob?”

  “A couple of things, sir. We finally got access to some of the CIA’s files on biological weapons programs. There must have been some real head-butting at yesterday’s National Security Council meeting. We received a bunch of electronic files late yesterday. It was almost nine o’clock. They probably figured we wouldn’t look at them until today. I guess I shouldn’t be that surprised, since we’re stonewalling them, too. We’re putting a date-time stamp for the next day on everything we put into the system, and that’s only after we’ve reviewed it pretty thoroughly. Anything we have to give the other intelligence agencies won’t leave here until we’ve spent at least a day going through it.”

  “That’s good, Bob. It’s exactly what we want. Just be careful you don’t fuck up. There can’t be anything in the record showing that we haven’t cooperated. The DNI was pretty damned angry when he suspected we’d been holding out on him.” At least if we do get caught, everything will have Zaborsky’s fingerprints, not mine.

  “So here’s the first of the stuff we got from CIA. It looks like a Soviet smallpox expert went to both Iran and Iraq. I think she gave them a sample of the smallpox virus.* We learned about this in 2002, but CIA wouldn’t let us interview their source. It was during the run-up to the Iraq war.”

  “So they’ve had this information for a while.”

  “No question. They were just keeping it to themselves. Mostly, it was just history. But it describes how Iran has been trying to get weapons of mass destruction since the 1980s. First they looked to the Soviet Union, and then, after the Soviet collapse, to the former republics. Remember, we already have that information about Kazakhstan that was related to Project Sapphire.”

  “Anything further from the MEK? That’s the dissident group, right?”

  “Right, the Mujahedin-e-Khalq. Nothing of real value lately, but don’t forget that they’re the ones who first told us Iran was working with smallpox.* We liked them because they wanted regime change in Iran, but they were also aligned with Saddam in Iraq. Since then, the State Department listed MEK as a terrorist group, so we’ve had to keep our contacts low key.”

  “We really need something that proves the transfer of smallpox virus to Iran. Something unambiguous.”

  “With all due respect, General Edwards, we both know that the intelligence business isn’t an exact science. But we’ve got the attack in New Mexico, and we can’t ignore that.”

  “We’ve got to keep looking, Bob. Those peaceniks in the Security Council want to hand over our country to the fucking terrorists. They don’t understand that we need to take the fight to the terrorists, or else we’ll be fighting in our own streets.”

  “There is something else, sir. I said I had two things this morning. The first one was important, but the second one may be even bigger. We think we know who actually carried out the attack in Farmington.”

  “You’ve arrested someone? You’re interrogating him?”

  “No, sir. That’s actually the point. The Indian kid that died out there? Well his father has disappeared. We think he’s the one.”

  “Why would a man kill his own kid? Only the ragheads do shit like that.”

  “There’s no sign of the guy, so he has to be on the run. And here’s something else. It turns out he’s a veteran.”

  “Why would you suspect a veteran?”

  “A couple of things, sir. First, he’s not a regular American. He’s an Indian. Second, he served in the first Gulf War, and his unit was called up again after we invaded Iraq. So he’s been over there more than once.”

  “That’s just circumstantial.”

  “There’s a third part. There was something in his file. Something big.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Here’s the report. The guy’s name is Redhouse, Jack Redhouse, and he was Marine Corps. His unit was stationed in a village east of Baghdad. They were talking to the locals, not in an active defensive posture. This guy Redhouse, Sergeant Redhouse, had his men sitting around with their weapons on the ground when an Army unit came through. The Captain in charge of that unit stopped to talk. This Captain Ferguson, he saw some stuff that he didn’t like. He didn’t like it at all, and he wrote it up. This is his report.”

  The photocopy was blurred in a few places, but it was fully legible.

  Nov. 14, 2005—Our unit was headed up to Baqubah from Baghdad. We were trying to deal with the increased attacks from the insurgents. I was taking my troops around to the east, so that we could enter Baqubah from the north. This took us much closer to the Iranian border—probably within 20 miles. Instead of the 50 miles to go directly from Baghdad to Baqubah, our travel distance was approximately twice that, and we were under constant exposure to attack by the insurgents. My men were under considerable stress.

  At about 12:30 local time, while passing through a small village, we encountered a U.S. Marine patrol. The patrol was led by the above-referenced Sgt. Redhouse. I decided that the extra cover provided by the Marines would allow my men to take a rest break with less concern about sniper fire, so I told them they had 30 minutes to relax. Most of my men stayed together as a group, but a couple of them walked around for a look-see after the Marines assured them it was safe. The Marines claimed that they had good relationships with the locals.

  At approximately 13:00 one of my men—Lt. Manzoni (see above)—reported to me what he thought was suspicious activity. He had observed Redhouse go off by himself to sit down with two of the locals. It was just the three of them. As Manzoni walked nearby, he could hear them talking, but not in English. Moreover, Manzoni reported that they were not speaking Arabic. He had studied languages in college, and he said he had heard enough of that to know that it wasn’t Arabic. He also said it was not Farsi, the language used by the Iranians.

  I attempted to confirm this, but the discussion had ended before I returned to the site. I confronted Sergeant Redhouse, but he claimed he was just being nice to the local teenagers—that this was an approved activity for the Marines in that area—part of a program to win the hearts and minds. I found his explanation unsatisfactory and suspicious. I asked Redhouse if he spoke Arabic, and he claimed he did not—other than the few words that all of our troops pick up while stationed here. He also said he did not speak Farsi. I tried to make this part of a general conversation, and I did not tell him why I was asking.

  When we returned to our base, I discussed this with our intelligence officer. He confirmed my suspicions. In view of our proximity to the border with Iran, this could be a serious security risk. We were unable to confirm the language that was used, but we could rule out the three most logical possibilities—English, Arabic, and Farsi. There are two other languages used in the proximate area of Iran—Laki and Luri. I searched the web and found that these two languages are used by a total of nearly 7 million Iranians.

  There is reason to be concerned about the activities of Sergeant Redhouse. He appears to be fraternizing with civilians in an inappropriate manner. His interactions with the civilians seemed to utilize a foreign language that most likely was an Iranian language. Altogether this actions add up to a possible major security breach involving the Iranians—a country that the United States has labeled as a state sponsor of terrorism. In view of the preceding facts and assessments, I recommend a full security investigation be undertaken.

  “Son of a bitch!” Edwards realized that he had been holding his breath. “Was there an investigation?”

  “There’s nothing in the Redhouse file, sir. We’ve concluded that Captain Ferguson’s report must have gotten lost for a while. Things were getting really fubar over in the Baghdad area back
then. Probably by the time they located the report, Redhouse had returned stateside and received his discharge papers. There would have been nothing left to investigate, so they must have just put the report in his file and forgotten all about it.”

  “Is Colonel Bradshaw looking for this guy? Out in Farmington?”

  “You’d better believe it, sir. Trouble is, the damn Indians aren’t being real cooperative. Claim they don’t know where he is. We sure as hell can’t say we think he’s a terrorist without blowing our security. It might tip off any accomplices he might have. For now it’s essential that the natives stay ignorant.”

  “Tell Bradshaw to push. He needs to push really hard.”

  “I’ll do that sir. But you’ve got what you wanted. This is your smoking gun. You wanted a clear link between Iran and Farmington? Well now you’ve got it.”

  “You’re right, Colonel. You’ve done a good job. I won’t forget it.”

  Edwards stood up and squared his shoulders. “I’ve got to get this to the Vice President.”

  * * *

  Chapter 20

  Sarah and Jake

  … a successful response to a future major incident—either a terrorist attack or natural disaster—requires a coordinated, interoperable response by the Nation’s public safety, public health, and emergency management community, both public and private, at the Federal, State, tribal, territorial, regional, and local levels.

  —National Emergency Communications Plan, July 2008‡

  Day 30: Finding Jack

  After leaving Jack’s cabin, Sarah and Raymond traveled northeast on BIA 38 until the road curved to the southeast toward Farmington. At Raymond’s signal, they pulled over by a tall rock outcropping and drove a few hundred feet into a small canyon. Raymond draped the camo netting over the ATVs, picked up a small pack from the ATV, and told Sarah to take her electronic gear. They scrambled up the hill to gain a better vantage point. Raymond estimated that they were about three miles from Jack’s cabin, and using field glasses, they’d be able to observe the response to their actions.

  Raymond picked up the radio. “I’m going to call this in like I’m still at Jack’s cabin. I won’t be on the air long enough for them to triangulate our position, and I’ll give them a name based on people I know in the tribal police. They won’t figure it out for a while.”

  The radio was still tuned to the same military command center, and Raymond pressed the send button for the first time. He used the same jargon they had been hearing, and he spoke in a firm and steady voice. “Command Central, come in please. Command Central, come in please.”

  A moment later, the radio crackled with a response. “Command Central, this is Lieutenant Walters. Who is calling?”

  “Command Central, this is Officer Matthew Darby, Navajo Nation Police, Shiprock District. We’ve located the individual you’re looking for. Man by the name of Redhouse. Repeat, Jack Redhouse.”

  “Roger, Officer Darby. Please state your location. We’ll send someone ASAP.”

  “I’m at a small cabin in the hills east of Shiprock. On the reservation, near the eastern edge.”

  “Can you provide an exact location, officer? We need to know how to reach it.”

  “Yes sir, Lieutenant. It’s about five klicks north of highway 64 on BIA-38. It’s a hundred yards up an arroyo, so it’s not visible from the road. Here are the coordinates: 36 degrees 47 minutes 51.71 seconds north, 108 degrees 32 minutes 01.08 seconds west. Please verify.”

  “Roger, officer. 36-47-51.71 north, 108-32-01.08 west. We’ve got people on the way. Please stay there to guide them in.”

  “Copy, Lieutenant, but I’ve got an emergency call west of here. I’ll meet up with your people back down on Highway 64. Somewhere near the Hogback Canal. Over and out.”

  “Officer Darby, you must remain on site. Do you copy?”

  Raymond listened to this command but didn’t respond, even when it was repeated twice more. “They have no reason to doubt anything I said. It will take a long time before they even think to look for someone traveling east. Meanwhile, let’s get some of that camo netting over us, just in case. And stay still. Anyone who’s ever gone hunting will tell you that it’s motion that gives you away, even if you’ve blended completely into the surroundings.”

  Listening to the scanner, Raymond and Sarah quickly learned that the Command Central was scrambling. A group designated as an “S-team,” was being sent out with both Army and CDC members. Sarah wondered if the “S” stood for smallpox.

  Within 10 minutes, they heard the distinctive “whup whup whup” of a helicopter. “It’s a Black Hawk—a UH60,” said Raymond. “They could have a dozen men aboard.”

  Only seconds after they heard the first sounds, the helicopter screamed past their position, close enough that Sarah could see the crew at the front of the aircraft. Raymond whispered that their speed was probably 150 miles per hour. “Can’t outrun one of them.”

  Raymond handed Sarah a pair of binoculars. “I learned to carry two pairs when I’m working as a guide. My clients always want to look, but if I give them the only pair, then I can’t be a very good guide. These both have non-reflective surfaces, so they won’t give away our position.” The helicopter circled once over the cabin and set down in the road at the mouth of the arroyo. Several people jumped out and took up defensive positions, while others moved slowly toward the cabin.

  It was difficult to see much detail from that distance, even with the binoculars, but when the figures neared the cabin, Sarah and Raymond suddenly heard the radio traffic.

  “S-Team A to Base. This is Captain Jenkins. We have reached the cabin, and there is no sign of anyone in the vicinity. I don’t know where that police officer went, but he sure as hell isn’t here.”

  “Captain Jenkins, this is Colonel Bradshaw. Secure your perimeter, and enter the building cautiously. One person only. Then report back.”

  After about a minute of silence, the radio again came to life. “Base, this is Jenkins. There is no sign of life in the cabin. There is a body on the floor. The medics are going in now.”

  Again, there was silence. Sarah’s heart was pounding, and she felt like she was in a horror movie, hiding in a closet, while the deranged killer was searching for her. When the next transmission came, she nearly screamed. “Base, this is Jenkins. The medics confirm that the individual is deceased. We’re going to bag the body. The CDC medics say they’ll do all follow-up work back at the hospital facility at SJC.”

  “Roger that, Captain. Assign four of your men to remain at the site. We’re sending a forensics team by road. They should arrive within an hour. Keep your eyes open for that Indian Police Officer. I don’t know why the hell he left in the first place. Tell the men you leave behind to disturb nothing. Allow nobody inside the cabin until the forensic team arrives.”

  Minutes later, Sarah and Raymond watched the Black Hawk lift off and gain altitude. Within two minutes the aircraft had passed them to the south, maybe a mile away this time. It was completely out of sight in another two minutes. “Let’s pack up Sarah. It’s time we were getting back to Anthony’s house. We need to talk about this, and you need to get ready to meet Jake.”

  * * *

  Day 30: Back at Chiquita’s

  “Did you know Jack and his family?” Sarah and Anthony were talking while Raymond took his turn in the shower.

  “Not as well as Raymond, but I knew Jack pretty well, I guess. I only met the others a couple of times. Some of us tried to go over and visit Jack and Evelyn after little Jackson died, but they wouldn’t let us into that part of the reservation. I guess that’s where all the smallpox cases have been. Jack and I used to work construction jobs together sometimes. He really loved his kid. It must have almost killed him when little Jackson died. I guess it actually did.”

  “I just hope Jake can figure out where the disease came from.”

  When Raymond joined them, he immediately began to describe his plans. “I think we need to go over a
nd talk to Evie. It would be good if your friend Jake could come with us.”

  “How can we get there if the house is quarantined?”

  “It may be okay now, at least the general area. We just need to be real cautious. While you were in the shower, Anthony said there haven’t been any new cases of smallpox, so they’re starting to lift some of the restrictions. Evie and her father have been staying at her cousin’s house. She couldn’t go back into her own house, not after Jackson died there. Our customs wouldn’t allow that. Her cousin’s place is right down the street, and there was enough room for two more people. The neighbors brought groceries and left them at the doorstep, so Evelyn, her father, and her cousin just stayed inside.”

  “Talking with her sounds like a good idea, if you can get us there. I’ll ask Jake to come.”

  “Then we should go meet him now. We’ll take Anthony’s truck again. When we go to see Evie later, we’ll come back here and get the ATVs.”

  Sarah nodded and reached for her pack. She had been thinking about how helpful Anthony had been, providing shelter, food, transportation, and gasoline. She pulled a $50 bill from one of the zippered pockets of her small pack and extended it toward Anthony. “This may help cover some of your expenses for all this, Anthony.”

  Chee’s eyes flared with anger as he pushed her hand back, almost slapping it. “We’re doing this to help our people. Not for you and not because someone’s paying us! We may be poor, but we don’t need any handouts. Save your damn money to pay the people who won’t do the right thing unless they get paid for it.”

  Sarah was stunned by Anthony’s reaction. “I … I didn’t mean … I mean I’m sorry …”

  Raymond’s look told Anthony that the argument was over.

  He spoke gently. “Sarah, you put your money away. Someday you’ll understand why Anthony and the rest of us are quick to take offense, but we don’t have time for that now. Let us help you by giving what we have. If we need to buy something we can’t afford, we’ll talk then about how to do it. Right now, we’ve got more important things to worry about. We’re all on the same side here.”