When the Future Ended

by David Spell

  “Did all three of the guys get in the other car?”

  Johnson laughed. “Yeah, they acted like they were in a hurry to get away from here. They all jumped into the other vehicle while you were talking to Eddie and Jimmy and took off.”

  McCain knew exactly what they were doing. They were letting him and Rebecca drive back to Atlanta by themselves. He didn’t know if he should thank them or if he should be angry. Well, there wasn’t much to be angry about. He got to be alone with Rebecca for the hour plus trip back to their HQ in Atlanta.

  There had been a few comments from the guys about how Johnson looked at McCain or about how obvious it was that they liked each other. There was no doubt that he was attracted to her. He doubted that she felt anything for him, though, and she was his boss. Better to keep some feelings suppressed, he thought.

  Chuck smiled at Rebecca. “Yeah, they're probably hungry, too. You want me to stop and get us some food?”

  She didn't realize how hungry she was until Chuck mentioned food. “Yeah, that sounds good. I just realized I'm starving. Maybe let's find a drive-through?”

  Without the traffic from earlier, and with McCain’s heavy foot on the accelerator, it was only an hour's drive back to the city. Rebecca and Chuck talked about the incident and how it had played out. He also used the time to tell her about a few ideas he had for some new “toys” and safety equipment that he thought the teams needed in light of this new bio-terror threat. What he was proposing wasn’t cheap but she agreed to everything that he suggested.

  “Give me a list of what you think the teams need and I'll check and see if we have the money. I don’t think it'll be a problem.”

  “Is this your first officer-involved shooting investigation?” Chuck asked.

  Rebecca looked out the window, trying to decide how to answer. “It is. I've done some other high-profile investigations but this is the first one of these. Why do you ask?”

  “Just curious. Where did you get your investigative training?”

  He is a nosy one, she thought.

  “I was also a security specialist for the State Department before I came over to the CDC. I actually was involved in a lot of investigations when I worked there.”

  Johnson needed to change the subject. “You said you’d been involved in a couple of shootings when you were with the police department. I know you also saw a bit of action when you were assigned to that army SF team.”

  McCain nodded and glanced over at her. A bit of action. That was a bit of an understatement, he thought. She had read his file so he did not feel that he needed to talk about his other shootings.

  Johnson said, “Andy told me you did a great job leading and directing the team. I can’t even imagine how chaotic it was back there but Andy said you were amazing. You had to make some tough decisions but you obviously made the right ones.”

  McCain nodded again. That was high praise coming from Fleming. He was a high-level operator himself as a former Marine Spec Ops warrior. The only reason that he was not a team leader was that he did not have the civilian law enforcement experience that Chuck had.

  “What do you think is going to happen next?” Chuck asked.

  Johnson related Team Two’s mission from earlier. “We have to try and intercept those packages of infected medicine. We'll also see if any got sent out from the house you guys were at or if that was just where they were being doctored.

  "Plus, we have to find that other Iranian scientist that Team Two has warrants for. He's looking more and more like a big player in this thing. His name has popped up in several different bits of intelligence. Amir al-Razi. He's going to become one of our top priorities."

  “Any leads on where he's at?”

  “Not really. I haven’t gotten the report from the Clean Up Team that processed that other house yet. Maybe they found some info that we can use. Hopefully, they’ll get me a report by tomorrow. If these tainted drugs get ingested by people in different parts of the country, we’re going to have a mess on our hands. Imagine hundreds or thousands of those…things that you ran into back there. Imagine those things getting turned loose in a densely populated area.”

  “I can’t imagine. That would be catastrophic.”

  “It would. That’s why all these federal agencies, including us, are working as hard as we can to contain this. I’ll be forwarding what information we have from today to the other feds and a watered-down version to local law enforcement to see what they can do. There’s no doubt that we're going to end up confronting more of these things before we are done.”

  They rode in silence for a while, both lost in their thoughts.

  Chuck glanced over at Rebecca. She was staring out the window.

  “So, tell me something about you,” he said.

  She seemed surprised by what he had said. Chuck caught her look. I shouldn't have said that, he thought. Why would she want to tell me something personal?

  “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business. Sometimes I just say things without thinking.”

  “What would you like to know?” she asked softly.

  “Well, where are you from? You don’t sound like you’re a Southern girl.”

  Rebecca smiled. “No, I'm not. I grew up all over. I was a military brat. My dad was a Navy SEAL. He died during the Grenada invasion.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.”

  “It’s ok. I was just a baby and can’t even remember him. My mom must have had a thing for military spec ops guys because my step-dad was a green beret. He’s retired now. He was…is really a father to me. So, that's why my accent is pretty generic. We did spend a few years in Fayetteville, North Carolina, though, when I was a teen-ager. It was like learning another language. Those Southern accents are thick.”

  Chuck laughed. His own accent wasn't heavy but he had grown up in the south. There were some words or phrases that he used that made people from the north look at him funny.

  “Your turn,” said Rebecca. “Tell me something.”

  “Any requests?” he asked.

  “Tell me about your daughter.”

  “Melanie is pretty amazing. I had lunch with her a few weeks ago in Athens. She's doing really well in school. Part of her time this semester is serving as a student-teacher for first graders. She said she was so nervous going into her first day.

  “She was worried about doing the wrong thing and was worried that one of the children would ask her something that she couldn't answer. Within an hour, though, she said that she had relaxed and realized she’d found her calling in life.”

  “Wow, that's great! How many people go through their entire life without ever finding what they were called to do? Do you know what your calling is, Chuck?” Rebecca asked.

  “I don’t know that I've ever really thought of it as a calling, but I suppose that's what it is. A cop, a soldier, a marine, a fireman. Those jobs really are all callings. No one gets into this line of work for the money or for the perks. So, yeah, I guess I do know what my calling is. It sounds corny, but 'To Protect and Serve,' is what I'm called to do. And right now we’re called to get something to eat,” he said pulling off the interstate and into a fast food drive-thru lane.

  As she watched him drive, she thought, he really is a good man. She felt so drawn to him. But, of course, she couldn't show it. She knew that when she recruited him she was going to have to eventually face her feelings. It didn’t even matter that she was his boss. For her, just the idea of a workplace romance went against her own personal policy. But, if she were ever to consider it, Chuck McCain would be that guy.

  Truck Stop, Interstate 85, Northeast of Atlanta, Wednesday, 2030 hours

  Amir al-Razi stiffened as the two uniformed police officers came into the dining area at the truck stop. One officer was young and fit and the other was older and very fat. The older officer had the three stripes of a sergeant on his uniform shirt.

  Amir had positioned himself in a booth facing the entrance so he could see Mostafa when he came in. He had b
een waiting for two hours and there had been no sign of Alamouti. He must have gotten arrested, he thought.

  Mostafa was one of Amir's most trusted agents. He had completed this assignment and was going to be given another one. That is, if he showed up. Thankfully, Alamouti knew nothing about al-Razi's other agents or plans. Even if he had been arrested, he would not be able to provide the police with any useful intelligence or information other than identifying al-Razi as his handler.

  It had already been an eventful day. Amir's asset inside the CDC had alerted him that one of their response teams was coming for him. He had managed to get away just minutes before they arrived at his safe house and distribution center south of Atlanta. He had backed into the driveway of an empty house seven doors down and had watched the team make entry.

  They were good, he had to admit. They moved fluidly and carried themselves like the well-trained warriors that they were. The big, muscular black man appeared to be in charge of the team. Amir sent the text to Mostafa letting him know that he needed to leave. After watching the CDC team for a while, al-Razi drove away.

  Amir was Iranian but he could pass as a Latino or an Indian as well. Tonight, sitting in the truck stop, he was wearing a gray t-shirt, dark jeans, and a John Deere ball cap. He could easily assume a new identity if he needed to. He had several sets of identification that he could draw from.

  His Beretta Model 92 was tucked into his waistband at the small of his back. He did not make eye contact with the police as they sat two tables over from him. He pretended to be engrossed in his smart phone.

  It was clear that something had happened with Mostafa and that he was not coming. Amir finished his meal of a steak and french fries. Now that the police were here, he felt that he needed to leave. With the feds looking for him, he knew that his picture could be hanging inside every police department in the United States by now.

  "So how many 911 calls came in?" the younger officer asked.

  "Ruthie said just three but they were good ones. The neighbors out there heard multiple gunshots and an explosion," the bigger officer answered.

  Amir could not help but hear their conversation. The officers had already written him off as a non-threat and were making no effort to keep their voices low. The truck stop that he had picked to meet Alamouti was just two exits up the interstate from where his house and lab were.

  "Then some woman from the feds called and told Ruthie to keep us away because they were conducting some kind of operation and serving some warrants and they didn't need any help," the obese officer continued. "Ruthie said this chick said something about the CDC Response Teams and the Department of Homeland Security."

  The younger officer lowered his voice. "Well, Sarge, can I tell you something?"

  "What have you done, Rookie?" The agitation was evident in the older officer’s voice.

  "I know you told us to stay away from there but I was in the area, so I parked down the street and took a peek with my binoculars."

  Amir was convinced the officers were talking about Mostafa and Fatemeh's house. He knew that he should leave but he also needed to listen a little longer.

  "Rookie, orders are orders. When I give you an order I expect it to be obeyed. Are we clear?" he asked sternly.

  "Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir. It won't happen again."

  "Ok, now tell me what you saw.”

  "Well, when I started watching, there were two black Suburbans and a white van. After a little while, two more Suburbans pulled up. I counted eight guys total wearing black uniforms and a really good-looking blonde woman. She looked like she was in charge. Some of the guys had rifles slung across their chests.

  "There were also two guys and two girls in gray uniforms that were maybe some kind of a forensics team. But check this out, Sarge. I was several hundred yards away looking through my binoculars but it looked like they loaded some bodies into the back of the van. I’m pretty sure I saw body bags."

  "Body bags? How many bodies?"

  "I counted four. That was how many I saw them load into that van."

  "Well, Rookie, I’m going to give you a little tip that will save you a lot of heartache in your law enforcement career. When the feds show up, it’s best to go in the opposite direction. In my dealings with the FBI, DEA, ATF, pick your own initials, they always end up screwing the local guys.

  "They may very well have gone out there tonight to serve some warrants and ended up having to cap some bad guys. Just be grateful you weren't there. There’s no telling how they would have dumped this mess on us if we had shown up."

  The younger officer took all of this sage advice in. He had only been a police officer for a few months and in their rural department this was the most excitement that he had seen.

  "One more question, Sarge. What’s a CDC Response Team? I didn't even know the CDC had a police department. I thought they were just trying to control the spread of malaria and the flu."

  "Good question, Rook. It's the first I've heard of them. Like we really need more federal cops."

  Amir left money on the table to pay for his meal. He tried to talk as little as he could. His accent pegged him as being from the Middle East and he did not want to attract any attention to himself. Allah had certainly been with him tonight. Maybe not with Mostafa but Allah's ways are not our ways, al-Razi thought.

  He had many things to think about as he drove his rental car back towards Atlanta. If those policeman were talking about Mostafa and Fatemeh's house, who were the other two bodies? Maybe Mostafa had gone out fighting and managed to take out two of the CDC officers?

  Maybe all four were the bodies of police officers and Mostafa and Fatemeh had escaped? That could not be. He had given the order to eliminate Fatemeh and if Mostafa had escaped he would have come to the truck stop or texted Amir to meet at their secondary meeting place.

  Fatemeh had done a good job, there was no doubt about it. She had smuggled drugs out of PharmaSource and then smuggled the infected medicine back in to be shipped. The problem was that Mostafa had told Amir that she had made friends with several of the other girls in the PharmaSource warehouse. Mostafa was not worried about it, but it concerned Amir deeply.

  Al-Razi had told them both at the beginning to keep to themselves and not to socialize with anyone. This operation was too big to take the chance on a woman with loose lips saying something that might compromise their mission. Her disobedience to his orders let him know that her services were no longer needed.

  He turned on the radio in the car to a preset local news channel. There was no mention of the incident at all. His agent inside the CDC would probably be able to feed him some information about what had happened in a few days. Until then, he would need to lay low.

  Now that he was a wanted man, Amir would have to be even more cautious. He was not afraid to die. He expected to die in the service of Allah. He did not want to become a martyr, though, until he had completed his mission. And that mission would be to strike a mighty blow against the Great Satan, America.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Catching Up

  Athens, Georgia, Thursday, 1300 hours

  Chuck had not seen his daughter, Melanie, in several weeks. He called and asked if she could meet him for lunch. They agreed to meet at the Last Resort Grill in downtown Athens. Melanie was in her third year at the University of Georgia, majoring in Early Childhood Education. Her plan was to teach first or second grade.

  McCain got to the restaurant a few minutes before noon and got a booth that would allow him to have his back to the wall and to watch the front entrance. Chuck stood to welcome Melanie when she walked in. Her face lit up when she saw her father. He hugged her and kissed her on the cheek.

  Melanie had light brown hair and was in great shape. She had played basketball, softball, and volleyball all through high school. Even though she did not play sports at the university, she ran several times a week and was a regular in one of the campus fitness centers. She had a light complexion with freckles sprinkled ac
ross her face.

  “You look beautiful, as always,” Chuck commented.

  “Thanks, Daddy. You look tired. How’s the new job?”

  McCain thought about the previous day. “It’s different,” he said.

  “Oh, yeah? How so?”

  “There are some things I can’t talk about but the stuff that we’re dealing with is pretty bad. We're investigating some really serious bio-terror threats."

  “Are you glad you took the position? You told me you weren’t even looking for a job when that lady showed up at the house.”

  Chuck smiled. “That's true. I got up that morning happily retired and a few hours later, I was signing my name on the dotted line and becoming a federal police officer. And that lady is now my boss.”

  The waiter came to their table and asked what they wanted to drink. They had eaten there several times before so they went ahead and ordered their food as well.

  “So, what's she like?” Melanie asked.

  “What’s who like?” He knew she was prying but he had to make her work for it.

  “You know. Your boss. Do you like her? What's her name?”

  “Rebecca. Rebecca Johnson. Do I like her? She's a good boss. She lets us do our job with very little interference. When we need anything, she’s really quick to help us out.”

  “And that’s it? She's a good boss? I remember the first time you told me about her, your face lit up. I just want you to be happy. I’d love to see you find someone.”

  “Thanks for your concern. Rebecca is really beautiful, smart, and if she wasn’t my boss, I might even ask her out. I don’t know. Maybe one day, but I doubt she’d even want to go out with me. And speaking of finding somebody, how about you? Are you seeing anybody?”

  “I’ve been out with a couple of guys this semester but nothing serious. I’m going out this weekend with a guy for the second time. He's really nice. I think you’d like him.”