Face of the Earth

by Doug Raber

  “And there’s another reason,” Anthony said. “The forecast is for snow tomorrow afternoon. You need to get to Cortez by then, or the roads won’t be safe. Even with the ATVs, you’d be leaving tracks. Jake, you’re going to need some warmer clothes. You’re pretty close to my size, so you can take my heavy parka.”

  “You can’t just give me your clothes,” Jake began, but Anthony cut him off.

  “I already had that conversation with Sarah. We’re all in this together, and we all help however we can. No complaints, no objections.”

  Hoping to steer the conversation in a new direction, Sarah turned to Raymond. “You want us to take the ATVs all the way to Cortez?”

  “No, just to the truck. Then drive the truck to Cortez. Retrace the route we used to get here. You’ve got the maps and your GPS, so you should do fine. Anthony and I will get the ATVs in a few days and bring them back here.”

  “Should we go to your house? And tell Annie what’s happened?”

  “Can’t do that, Sarah. It would just increase the risks that you’d be stopped. When you get to Cortez, don’t go anywhere near Annie. Besides, she’d only worry about me if you did that. Go to the airport. There’s a man who can get you out of the area safely. You can trust him.”

  Raymond handed Sarah a business card that said “Diné Charter Flights, Cortez, CO” along with the name Alvin Keeswood. On the back of it he had written something that Sarah couldn’t decipher. “Just find Alvin and give him this card. He’ll help you. It’ll cost, but he’ll help you.”

  As Sarah took the card, her face suddenly went pale. “Oh my God! The business card. The card in the cabin, Raymond. I forgot all about it.”

  “What card?” Jake asked.

  “I found a business card on the floor of the cabin, right next to Jack’s body. I put it into a baggie, but in the excitement I forgot all about it.” She reached into the pocket of her jacket and extracted the baggie.

  “Holy shit, Sarah! That’s a hell of a thing to forget! What if it was someone Jack met after he was sick?”

  Jake studied the card. “Danielle Brandis. It says she’s an antiques dealer from Maryland. She could be spreading the virus across the whole damn country.”

  Jake stood up. “Goddamn it, Sarah! I’ve got to report this right away.”

  Raymond blocked Jake from moving. “No. You and Sarah have to get away and tell people what really happened. If you tried to call in something now, they might not do a thing—except arrest you. Get out of here with this information—the business card as well as slides and your DNA data. Get it to somebody you can trust. You can report it tomorrow, when you’re safe.”

  “You can’t ask me to just sit on this, Raymond.”

  “He’s right, Jake. Once we get out of Farmington, you can reach people who will follow up. We’ll figure out a strategy tomorrow on the drive up to Cortez.”

  Jake said nothing, but after a few seconds he nodded.

  Raymond picked up the coffee pot and put it in the kitchen. “Right now, everyone should get some sleep. Sarah gets the bedroom, and the men bunk in the living room. You two need a good rest before you spend the morning on the ATVs. Have you driven one before, Jake?”

  “Only once. But I’ll be okay. I’ll just follow Sarah’s lead.”

  “Let’s turn in. Anthony and I will get things ready in the morning. You should start at first light.”

  * * *

  Day 31: North to Cortez

  It was 6:15 a.m. and dark. Anthony and Raymond had been up for an hour, working quietly, preparing the ATVs, packing food and water. Raymond made sure the camouflage netting was in the cargo carrier.

  Anthony spoke quietly to Jake. “Time to get up. It’s 6:20. When you finish washing up, give a knock on the bedroom door.”

  The others were sitting at the table when Sarah joined them. “I’m going to miss the fry bread when we leave here.”

  Raymond nodded. He understood that she had meant more than the food. “Sarah, be sure you have all your gadgets. I brought the map in, and I’ve marked the trails. If you get yourself caught on the wrong side of a canyon, just backtrack until you can match your GPS to the right trail.”

  He handed Sarah a folded piece of paper. “When Walter dropped us off last night, he said you should listen to your scanner. He wrote down these frequencies. Said you should monitor them every hour, on the hour, starting at 8:00 a.m. He said he was going to drive over to the school early, so he could spot any unusual activity on the road near the airport. The receiver is in his office at the school.

  “Your GPS is synchronized to the correct time, so pay attention to it. If there’s no news, he won’t broadcast. And he won’t switch frequencies until he’s used the first one. He also said you shouldn’t respond unless there’s a crisis. You don’t want anyone to trace you. You might also want to monitor the military frequency we found yesterday. It would give you a chance to hide if someone comes looking.”

  He turned to Jake. “When do you think they’ll notice that you’re missing?”

  “I’m not sure. I’ve been getting to the lab building by 7:15, so by 8:00 they’ll probably call the motel. When there’s no answer, they’ll think I’m on my way in. That would give us another half hour. When they check the room and find out that I didn’t sleep in my bed last night, all hell will probably break loose.”

  “Then figure that by 8:30, they’ll be looking for you. They could have patrols out less than a half hour after that. Maybe even helicopter flights. In any case, there should certainly be some radio traffic by then, so listen to the radio. Especially anything Walter might have to say.”

  Raymond glanced around. “I think you’re all set. It’s 7:00, and it’s getting light enough to travel.”

  Jake shook hands with Raymond, thanking him for his help and then turned to Anthony. “I really appreciate the jacket and the other gear. I hope that I’ll be able to repay you.”

  “If you can help end this mess, you will have repaid me. Just be careful. And take care of Sarah. She’s a good woman.”

  Sarah had said her goodbye to Anthony, and she was talking quietly to Raymond. “I don’t know how to express what I’m feeling. It’s only been three days, but I’ll always think of you as a close friend. I’ll be back again, Raymond. Maybe the next time will be under better circumstances.”

  “I hope so, Sarah. I know already that you are a good friend. Travel carefully. And trust Alvin. He’ll get you to safety, so you can do what’s necessary. Until then, you and Jake watch each other’s backs.”

  * * *

  Chapter 25

  National Security Council

  Bush turned to Tenet. ‘I’ve been told all this intelligence about having WMD and this is the best we’ve got?’ From the end of one of the couches in the Oval Office, Tenet rose up, threw his arms in the air. ‘It’s a slam dunk case!’ the DCI said.

  —Bob Woodward, Plan of Attack, 2004‡

  Day 30: Absence of Malice

  The Secretary of State looked earnestly at her colleagues. “We must have a plan, Gentlemen. The Vice President sure as hell will. Has anyone learned more about Jack Redhouse?”

  All eyes turned to the Director of National Intelligence. According to policy, he should have received all relevant information from the Defense Intelligence Agency, but nobody in the room actually expected that to happen.

  “Nothing new for me,” Morrison said. “But that shouldn’t be a surprise. DIA gave us only what Under Secretary Edwards presented at the last NSC meeting.”

  The President’s Chief of Staff spoke next. “I’m too isolated over here in the White House. Anything I tried would have undermined our effort to be discreet. Maybe Parker has something, though. He has a little more leeway than I do.” Allesandro turned toward Parker Cunningham.

  “I have the same problem in my role as National Security Advisor, Juan. But there was something really useful in the information that DIA provided about Jack Redhouse. I recognized the name of
someone I served with in the first Gulf War. He stayed in as a career Marine officer, and he was stationed in the same area as Redhouse. It turns out that he remembered him.”

  “Did your contact have anything of value?”

  “Yes ma’am. He sent me this report. But it could undermine our arguments. It accuses Redhouse of being disloyal. It isn’t something that I’d ever want to believe of a U.S. Marine, but this is what we’ve got.”

  “Tell us, Parker.” The Secretary of State was grim.

  Deliberately, the National Security Advisor read the brief report that had been written years before by Captain Arthur Ferguson, U.S. Army, detailing the incident that he had witnessed in the small village east of Baghdad. When Cunningham finished, the mood in the room had become even more somber.

  The DNI was the first to speak. “I see what you mean that about undermining our efforts. But it strikes me as a very weak report. This Captain Ferguson may have jumped to conclusions. Unwarranted conclusions. Presumably, there was a follow-up report. An allegation this serious wouldn’t have just gone away.”

  “Apparently it did. My colleague did a careful search of the records. There was nothing else. Redhouse returned stateside just after this event, and the brass didn’t see it as a priority. The insurgency in Iraq was at its peak, so a complaint related to Iran might not have been viewed as a big deal.”

  Morrison suddenly sat up straighter. “Jesus, do you know what this means? If you found this Ferguson report so easily, the DIA must have it, too. The Secretary of Defense and the Vice President presumably know about it as well.”

  “Then why didn’t they share it with you?”

  “Think about it, Juan. If they gave it to us in advance, we’d be prepared for it. You wait and see. When we meet in an hour—in a half hour, now—they’ll drop it on us. Edwards will say he just learned about it this morning. They’re going to use it in an effort to force the President’s hand.”

  “But now we know about it. They can’t.”

  Cunningham interrupted. “Juan, just because we know about it doesn’t mean they can’t use it. The report may be weak, but it’s damning. We may be really f… We may have been outfoxed here.”

  Secretary Calebresi had been silent during these exchanges. Her head was bowed, cradled in her hands. She looked dejected, utterly defeated.

  Morrison noticed her posture. “Madam Secretary, are you all right.”

  Calebresi lifted her head, shaking it slowly from side to side. “I’ve been trying to understand something—it didn’t make any sense at all before. Our Bureau of Intelligence and Research came up with an old internal report on Redhouse. It didn’t seem to make any sense at all. But it does! It does now! It answers everything. Let me read some of this to you. Just the key parts.”

  … interviewed Lieutenant Johnstone, who was Sergeant Redhouse’s commanding officer. I also interviewed Major Thomas Slayton, who was in charge of all the Marine Corps operations in the area.

  … both officers claimed to know Redhouse fairly well. Both spoke highly of him. Lt. Johnstone said he was courageous under fire and also worked well with the locals. Moreover, Lt. Johnstone emphasized that trying to work closely with the locals was part of the USMC operational plan at that time. They were trying to show that U.S. troops were there to help, not to occupy.

  … Major Slayton said he had assigned Redhouse to work directly with him on several occasions. Apparently they had some success working with the local teenagers, a really tough group to work with. They were usually very hostile to our troops in the area. Redhouse was able to establish a rapport with these teenagers. A lot of these locals were Sunni, and they were a minority, just like the Indians in the U.S.

  … that one of the techniques Redhouse used to build relationships with the locals was to teach them a few words of the Navajo language. Apparently, they loved it. It was a secret language that nobody else understood, even if they only knew a few words. Redhouse is said to have learned some Arabic as well, but he wasn’t fluent.

  “There are some other things, but those seem to give the essence of the report. Somewhere in there, it says that the Lieutenant was going to write up a citation for Redhouse—for a Bronze Star—but he was killed by an IED before he had the chance to finish writing it.”

  “I don’t understand, Madam Secretary. What was the point of this report? To whom was the report given? And why?”

  “It was handled entirely within the State Department, Burt. I asked our people, the Bureau of Intelligence and Research, to find anything we had on Redhouse, and this is what they gave me. When I first looked at it, there didn’t seem to be anything relevant. We didn’t know about the Ferguson complaint, and it’s never mentioned here. But this report almost certainly was done in response, as part of an investigation. The Army and Marines didn’t care. They were fighting an insurgency over there. But we cared …”

  “We?” Morrison interrupted again.

  “The people at State. When they heard about this guy who might have been working an Iranian group near Baghdad, they had to follow up. It might have been something could compromise our diplomatic efforts. But that’s the whole point. There was nothing! Redhouse wasn’t a spy. He wasn’t speaking in some minor Iranian language. He was just a Marine doing his job. And apparently, he was doing it really well. Well enough that he got the attention of …”

  She ran her finger down the page as she scanned the text. “Here it is. He got the attention of a Major Slayton, who encouraged his efforts.”

  Morrison banged a fist on the table. “Now we know the truth. If Edwards and the others try to use that Ferguson report, we’ll nail the bastards.”

  The Secretary of State smiled slightly before she continued. “Let’s play this close to the vest. If they don’t know about the original Ferguson accusations, we won’t bring it up. But if they try to spring it on us, if they try to claim that Redhouse was tied to the Iranians, I’ll bring out this State Department report. We’ll cut them off at the damn knees. Let’s go.”

  * * *

  Day 30: Selective Recall

  The mood in the meeting room was grave. The members of the National Security Council were seated around the conference table. Staff assistants took positions in a ring of chairs that lined the walls. There was none of the usual buzz. No conversations about skiing during the holidays, no mention of who would make it into the NFL playoffs.

  Most had arrived several minutes early. When all the principals were seated, the President entered, taking his position at the head of the table. He nodded to Trevor Richards. “Mr. Vice President, you may begin.”

  “The meeting will come to order. You all know our agenda, and I won’t waste your time on a recap. The situation is becoming increasingly urgent. We cannot keep a lid on the smallpox situation much longer. Consequently, our decision regarding a military response must be made promptly, if we wish to avoid jeopardizing the brave men and women of our armed forces. If there are no other reports of new information, I’ll proceed directly to the Secretary of Defense.” Richards scanned the room, but no hand was lifted. Most participants avoided eye contact, and not even an eyebrow had been raised. The Vice President motioned to Quentin Walker.

  Walker cleared his throat. He was nervous. Richards had charged him with laying the groundwork. It was his job to get all the other players on board. “Ladies and Gen–”He started over. “Mr. President, Mr. Vice President, Ladies and Gentlemen—we have a decision of major consequence before us. Our country has been attacked, and we must fight back. We cannot shrink from the responsibility that we share to protect our homeland. Our decision may result in the deaths of many hundreds, or even many thousands, of individuals in a faraway land.”

  He glanced nervously at the Vice President before continuing. “That may sound as though we are preparing to strike in a callous way, and also in an asymmetric way, because far more will die than have been killed so far in the biological attack that was launched against America. But that vie
w would be shortsighted. It would be shortsighted, and it would be wrong. Moreover, it would be dangerous. If we fail to respond now, this first attack—and make no mistake, this can only be the first attack in an effort to destroy our country. If we fail to respond now, this first attack will embolden the enemy and encourage him to take the lives of hundreds of thousands, even millions, of American citizens. We cannot allow that to happen.”

  The Secretary of Defense saw several heads nod in agreement with his argument. That was good. But he also noticed that most continued to stare down at their briefing books. No eye contact meant no support. This would be a tough sell.

  “I want to summarize some additional intelligence reports that we have assembled on this matter. Some are from the Defense Intelligence, and others were provided by Central Intelligence. Others in the intelligence community have provided corroboration, but they gave us no new findings. Let me read you several excerpts:

  We can say with certainty that the Iranian regime now has the capability of mass production of biological material for weapons use. One of the pathogens being worked on is smallpox.

  Iranian Revolutionary Guard Corps Imam Hussein University. Located in Tehran, the university complex houses extensive, but highly secret research departments led by scientists, members of the Iranian Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC). … this establishment focuses on weaponisation of several biological agents, including anthrax, smallpox, typhoid, plague and cholera bacteria.

  Experiments have been taken place at the IRGC Imam University, testing of microbial bombs using anthrax, smallpox, typhoid fever, as well as high dosage aflatoxin.

  “There are others, but the intelligence is clear. Iran has been developing smallpox as a weapon. They built facilities for that purpose. They hired scientists to do the work. They have obtained smallpox. They have weaponized it. And they have tested a delivery system. They want to take over the world. They call us the ‘Great Satan,’ and they want to destroy our country. It is our responsibility to prevent that from happening.”