The Darkest Part of the Night

by David Spell

  “I ran the tag and it came back to the same make car. Just for the heck of it, I compared the VIN on the car to the one on the tag return and it was different. I ran this car’s VIN on the computer and got the hit.”

  The three federal officers nodded appreciatively. That was good police work. Most officers would have just run the tag and when it didn’t return stolen, they would’ve kept driving. Corporal Lee went the extra mile and compared the vehicle identification number for that tag to the VIN on the dashboard. That told him that the tag for the Accord was different. A computer check of that VIN showed the car had a warning for law enforcement officers to use extreme caution with Ahmed.

  “Have you searched it?” asked Jimmy.

  “No. As soon as I realized what I had, I just waited on the dispatcher to call you guys. I figured you would want to process it.”

  “You’re right, Corporal. I’ll have one of our forensics teams do that. Would you mind calling us a tow truck?”

  Jimmy looked at Alejandro. “Hollywood, can you call and have a Clean Up Team meet the wrecker at the impound lot and do a very thorough processing?”

  “Will do.”

  Estrada stepped away to make the phone call.

  “The next thing we need to do is go to the MARTA Police Headquarters and watch some security video and see if we can figure where Mohamud went,” Jones told Rogers. “It’s not much. But maybe we can at least figure out if he got on a train and where he went to.”

  Downtown Atlanta, Thursday, 1700 hours

  Mohamud Ahmed must have walked two or three miles getting to know the downtown area around Georgia State University. His instructions from Amir were simple. Use Thursday and Friday to find three coffee shops or restaurants around the university. He was to stay off of the campus itself because Georgia State had their own police department. It was a fairly small campus so the possibility of running into the police was very real. Instead, he would focus on three businesses within a block or two of the school.

  On Saturday, starting around 1100 hours, he was to enter each location and buy a coffee. As he added cream to his coffee, he was to pour a vial of the virus into the pitcher of cream. Then he was to leave the shop and walk to the next one and repeat the process.

  After infecting the third coffee shop or restaurant, he could begin trying to make his escape. He had known that leaving his car in the parking lot of the MARTA station was a calculated risk. It had very likely been discovered by now, letting the authorities know that he had utilized the train. Then again, maybe it had not.

  Even if they had found his car, he felt confident that there was no way that they could track him. There were too many places that he could have gone on the rail system. When Mohamud was finished with his mission, he would take a westbound MARTA train to get away from the downtown area. Then, he was confident that he could steal a car to make his escape out of the state.

  He found several likely target locations as he explored the area around GSU but he only had three vials of the virus. Ahmed’s reconnaissance for Friday would be to try and figure out which ones would have the most traffic. The goal was to infect as many people as possible at each business. Because the virus was so potent, he would only need a few people to get infected to start spreading zombie terror in the heart of the city. Within a couple of hours, the virus would be carried throughout Atlanta.

  He found a nondescript hotel about half a mile from the university campus. The New Century Hotel was a haven for prostitutes and drug dealers. Mohamud was able to rent a room for two nights using cash and a false name on the registration card that he filled out. This was clearly one of those places where no questions would be asked.

  MARTA Police Headquarters, Thursday, 1530 hours

  Jimmy, Alejandro, and Chris were given total access to the digital recording banks of footage captured in each of the MARTA stations. A MARTA police lieutenant put them each in front of a computer and showed them how to pull up video from the different stations. Jimmy quickly found a man who looked like Mohamud Ahmed getting on the southbound train at the Chamblee Station where he had parked his car.

  They were not a hundred percent sure that it was him but for now, it was the best that they had. It looked like he had started growing a beard. He was wearing an Atlanta Braves ball cap, sunglasses, a black t-shirt, and was carrying a duffel bag over his shoulder.

  Jimmy captured several images from the recording and sent them to Eddie and Rebecca. He asked if they could forward them to the FBI for verification using their facial recognition software. Now the question was, “Where did he go?”

  Thirty minutes later, Chris said, “I found him. He exited at the Georgia State University exit.”

  Jimmy and Alejandro crowded around his monitor. Ahmed exited the train and took the steps up to the street. He was still carrying his duffel bag.

  “He doesn’t strike me as the type who’s taking night classes,” said Jimmy. “I think we’re about to get hit again. If he was running away, I don’t think he’d head into the heart of the city.”

  Jones felt his smart phone vibrate and saw that Eddie was calling him.

  “What’s up, boss?”

  “Hey, Jimmy. The FBI got back to us in record time and confirmed that the guy in those pictures is Ahmed. Any idea where he went?”

  “We know this much. He took the train into the city and got off at the Georgia State University exit.”

  “That doesn’t sound good. Can you guys head that way? I’ll meet you down there. Maybe we’ll get lucky and see him. If not, we’ll at least be close when the zombies start showing up. And, I’ll ask Rebecca to begin notifying the locals.”

  The officers changed into civilian attire. They always carried a change of clothes with them in their vehicle for situations just like this. Within twenty minutes, they were driving around the block where the Georgia State University MARTA station was located. Jimmy cruised slowly through the surrounding area for almost an hour with no luck. The streets were packed with people walking. There was no telling where Mohamud had gone.

  Jimmy parked on the street near the GSU campus. The three officers had talked on the way to the location about their strategy. Chris was the only one of the three who was familiar with the campus. He had been working on a Criminal Justice degree at GSU when he had gotten hired by the Fulton County Police Department.

  The three men would split up and try and cover as much ground as they could looking for Ahmed. Chris looked the most like a student and even had an expired student ID card if challenged. He would make his way through the classroom and administration buildings. Each officer had several printouts of Ahmed’s photo that they could pass on to the local police. Jimmy and Alejandro would walk around the campus and the surrounding areas trying to get an idea of what Mohamud’s target might be.

  As Chris walked out of one of the classroom buildings, he saw a campus police officer writing a parking ticket. He walked over to her and identified himself, holding out his CDC Enforcement badge and ID. The officer barely glanced up and continued to write the parking ticket.

  “I’m sorry to bother you but I have some important intel for you to pass on to your other officers.”

  “That’s fine but you’re still getting a parking ticket.”

  It took a minute for what she had said to register. “What? That’s not my car. I’m a federal police officer working on a case and I was wanting to give you a heads up on possible terrorist attack.”

  She looked at Chris and continued writing. When she finished, she placed the citation under the windshield wiper of the car.

  “Maybe it would be better if you called your sergeant,” Chris said. “I don’t want to pull you away from something more important.”

  “What were you wanting to tell me? I’m finished now.”

  “Please call your sergeant. I think I’d rather talk to them.”

  Rogers had no patience with people like this girl. He knew he was probably getting her in trouble by calling
her supervisor over but he didn’t care. She was more focused on generating a forty-five dollar fine than in hearing about a dangerous terrorist that was possibly planning an attack in the area.

  Officer LaTeesha Thompson didn’t want to get her boss involved but now she didn’t have a choice. The sergeant had been requested so she had to call him. Chris could hear part of the conversation.

  “He just said he wanted to talk to you. I don’t know. He said he was some kind of federal police officer or something. He wouldn’t tell me anything.”

  A few minutes later, another police car pulled up and a huge hulk of man pried himself out of it. Chris walked over and offered him his credentials. His name tag showed a last name of “Roberts.”

  “Thanks for coming over, Sergeant Roberts. I tried to talk to your officer there but she was busy writing parking tickets. Even when I told her that I had information on a possible terror attack, she didn’t seem very interested.”

  The sergeant glanced at Officer Thompson who had walked back to her own patrol car. He shook his head.

  “Sorry about that, Agent Rogers. It’s easier to write parking tickets than to do real police work. Did you work anywhere else before you got on with the CDC?”

  “I worked for Fulton County PD for five years. I spent most of my time in South Fulton.”

  Sergeant Roberts grunted and looked at Chris with new respect.

  “Well, then you understand. Some people just aren’t cut out for this line of work but it’s getting harder and harder to find good people. Now, how can I help you?”

  Chris gave him one of the photos of Ahmed and gave him all the information that he had.

  “He has warrants on him for that attack at the high school two weeks ago. He’s probably close to being Number One on the FBI’s Most Wanted List. This is a really bad guy and I don’t think he’s down here enrolling for the new semester. Now, maybe his target is somewhere else in the city but he got off of MARTA here. Can you pass this photo and his info on to your officers?”

  “I sure will. Thanks for letting us know. I’m going talk to our Chief right now. How are you guys working this? And what about the FBI?”

  “My boss has contacted the FBI to give them what we know. They’ll probably put some people in the area, too. Right now, there are just three of us from the CDC down here and our team leader is on his way. Other than knowing that he got off of the train here, we don’t have anything. We recovered his car earlier today at the Chamblee Station and it’s being processed. Maybe that’ll give us some clues. My guess is that we’ll probably be down here again tomorrow looking for him. Have you got a card?”

  Roberts and Rogers swapped cards that had their phone numbers and email addresses.

  “I’ll contact you tomorrow and let you know if we’re going to be on campus. It’d be great to catch this guy but please let all of your officers know that none of the terrorists involved in this have been taken alive.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  One Down

  Near Georgia State University, Downtown Atlanta, Friday, 1400 hours

  On Friday morning, Mohamud spent time in several cafes and small restaurants around the university. He watched the people go about their lives, oblivious to the African terrorist sitting in their midst. Mohamud was impressed with Amir’s planning and foresight. Georgia State University was in the heart of downtown Atlanta. This attack would create panic and terror and would turn a large section of the city into a graveyard.

  He had questioned al-Razi on why they were waiting until midmorning on Saturday to launch their attacks. It seemed to him that a Friday afternoon or even a Monday morning attack might be more deadly. Amir had explained to him that they were coordinating multiple attacks in different locations and the timing was very important. Amir had not told him what the other targets were, but with their previous meeting in Athens, Mohamud guessed that the large university there was going to be infected, as well.

  The area around GSU was a target rich environment. Amir had asked him to spread his three infectious visits over a few hours, finishing up in the early afternoon. Mohamud considered himself a good soldier of Allah. He might not understand Amir’s plan for the timing of the attacks but he trusted the man and would follow the orders that he had been given.

  By 1400 hours on Friday, Ahmed had mapped out his plan for Saturday. He had consumed several cups of coffee and had had lunch in two different restaurants adjacent to the campus. He pictured in his mind the death and destruction that his actions were going to cause and couldn’t help but smile as he exited Ricardo’s Mexican Restaurant and began the walk back to his hotel. He did not notice the two men who exited a black SUV and started to follow him down the crowded sidewalk.

  Georgia State University, Downtown Atlanta, Friday, 1415 hours

  Sergeant Roberts and Eddie Marshall hit it off right away. Both men had worked for big city police departments before ending up in their present jobs. Roberts had spent ten years with the City of Atlanta PD before going to work for the university police department. He was making more money and had gotten promoted much faster than he would have at APD.

  Marshall had spent fifteen years working for the Chicago Police Department, becoming a road sergeant and then a detective sergeant in the robbery unit. His dream, though, had always been to work for a federal law enforcement agency. When he went to work for the U.S. Marshals Service, he thought that he had died and gone to Heaven. He had spent five years tracking dangerous fugitives who were on the run from the federal courts. He tracked down and caught cartel leaders, members of the mafia, bank robbers, and murderers.

  When Rebecca Johnson approached him and offered him a job, Eddie wasn’t sure that he wanted it. The big pay raise had helped convince him to switch agencies but now he couldn’t imagine doing anything else. He was working with a great group of people, trying to stop one of the most serious threats that America had ever faced.

  Roberts and Marshall placed the CDC agents in strategic locations around the university campus. Each federal officer was accompanied by a campus officer. They were hoping to catch Ahmed before he could launch any type of bio-terror attack.

  Andy and Luis, from Team One, were also a part of the surveillance team on the campus. Chuck and Scotty were in their Suburban, conducting mobile surveillance further away from the university. There were plenty of targets in Downtown Atlanta. McCain and Smith were scanning the sidewalks as they drove around the center of the city.

  Jimmy and Alejandro were also acting as rovers in their black SUV. They were driving on the streets right around the university campus, watching the sidewalks for any sign of Ahmed. The GSU officer assigned to them was LaTeesha Thompson. She was the officer that Chris had tried to talk to the day before. They were all wearing civilian clothes as they tried to blend in with the throngs of people on foot and in cars in the heart of the city.

  “Who’s that young white officer that works with y’all?” LaTeesha asked.

  “You mean Chris?” Jimmy answered.

  “Yeah, the one that looks like he’s about sixteen years old.”

  “Don’t let that baby face fool you. That boy is dangerous with a capital “D,” said Jimmy. “He took down one of the terrorists who was shooting up that mall in Douglasville. Chris was just in there shopping, minding his own business. A bunch of Muslim tangos with AK-47s came in shooting people. All Chris had was a pistol but he took out one of the bad guys. Then, he stuck around and helped us clear out the mall of zombies. He’s a dangerous dude.”

  “Well, he got me in trouble with my sergeant yesterday,” she said.

  Chris had told them about the incident when he saw that LaTeesha was going to be riding with his teammates.

  “You must not be in too much trouble. They’re letting you ride with us looking for a terrorist,” said Estrada.

  “Maybe that’s my punishment,” she muttered.

  “Or ours,” said Alejandro.

  Estrada and Jones both laughed. Jimmy said,
“LaTeesha, you can get out any time you want and write parking tickets. Maybe you’ll find Mohamud double-parked.” The two men laughed again.

  “What do you guys know? You’re federal police officers,” the disgust in her voice was evident. “You don’t have to deal with parking complaints and some of the other crap that comes with working for a university police department.”

  “I was an Alabama State Trooper for a while and he,” said Jimmy, pointing at Alejandro, “worked for the Los Angeles Police Department. That’s why we call him ‘Hollywood.’ We’re both just street cops at heart. Now, we’re tracking terrorists and shooting zombies.”

  “If you were a trooper,” LaTeesha pressed, “you know all about writing tickets.”

  Jimmy nodded. “True story, but I was always looking beyond the ticket. I found hundreds of kilos of cocaine, meth, and marijuana over the years because of traffic stops. I caught all kinds of fugitives on pullovers. I never liked writing tickets just for the sake of writing tickets, though. For me, it was always a way to find criminals. Bad guys have to get from Point A to Point B and most of the time they drive.”

  “Unless they’re walking down the sidewalk,” said Estrada. “Slow down. That guy up there in the black t-shirt and the Braves hat? He just came out of that restaurant and sure looks like our terrorist buddy.”

  The slim man had stepped out of the business and turned right on the sidewalk, slipping sunglasses onto his face. He appeared to be smiling as he was walking.

  “He’s wearing the same clothes he was wearing yesterday,” Estrada noticed.

  “Well, no one said he was a very good terrorist,” Jimmy observed.