The Imposter (36 page)

In
the back of a deep warehouse off of Chartes Street in the Quarter, Ali, a thin,
frail 23 year old Muslim stared at his older brother, 31 year old Nazir and
said, “Nazir, are you sure we know what we are doing?  I don’t trust Vadim at
all. Every since I hacked into his email and saw the exit plans he sent to his
comrades in Russia, I have been suspicious.  Maybe we should abort this
mission.  At least postpone it."  Ali's young face looked scared and
uncertain.

Nazir's
face remained unchanged and he rolled his eyes and looked at his little brother
condescendingly.  “Ali, stop it.  I thought you were ready for this.  I thought
I could trust you to be OK.  We are doing the work of Allah.”  Ali seemed to
shrink in stature at his brother's criticism and impatience.  He seemed to
retreat into his skin.”

“I
am ready, I really am,” Ali replied with bravado in his voice.  “I just don’t
like working with others, those that are not dedicated to our cause.

 Nazir’s
impatience continued.  “You have been training for over 3 years and I have been
planning for a mission such as this for many years.   Sometimes in order to do
Allah's work, we have to work with others.  This is one of those times.”

Ali
still looked doubtful, uncertain.  His brother's words did not sway him.

Nazir
moved over and put his arm around his little brother.  Ali certainly wasn’t a
warrior, but he was a brilliant scientist and computer genius.  He said gently,
“Vadim is OK. He’s just different from us.  He is Russian and they do things
differently.  But he is a Muslim and worships as we do.  He is one of the
leaders in the Red Jihad movement at home in Eastern Europe."

Ali
nodded as Nazir continued, "Remember, we needed Vadim and his connections
to get us the virus.  The Russians have been holding that strain since the Cold
War.  It would have taken us years to produce a similar strain.  You more than
anyone know we haven’t been able to produce the more virulent strain in our
laboratories.”  Nazir eyed him reprovingly.

“I
know, I know,” lamented his brother.  “But we were very close.  If you had just
given me six more months I could have had the very same thing or perhaps
something even better with a higher kill rate. Maybe even a virus that would be
even harder to detect.  Nazir, you have to understand that these things take
time, believe me.  I haven’t been doddering.”  Ali’s dark eyes were brooding
and angry.

"No,
my little brother.  I certainly don't think that at all." Nazir continued
to talk softly and reassure his brother how much he and the local jihad cell
appreciated his talents and contributions.  “I know that, I know that, little
one.  But you know how the Americans are.  Very seldom are there so many of
them from all parts of their leadership gathered together in such an iconic,
filterable city such as New Orleans.  Washington is just too difficult to
attack.  It is a fortress.  But New Orleans…. What can I say? This is a perfect
place for an attack.  Ali, the place is half underwater and a sewer.  It cannot
be secured.  Besides, they’ll have a hard time figuring out if the virus is
endemic to New Orleans.  Nazir smirked to himself and continued, "They
have so much stuff growing over there in Tulane’s lab not even to mention all
that stuff they’re growing since Katrina.  Besides, we have hundreds of places
we can hide.  We can hide here for years if we need.  The time is right and the
time is perfect.  Besides, it will cause terror and fear in the hearts of
Americans if we are successful so soon after Boston.”

Ali
was being stubborn.  “I like New Orleans.  I like all of our friends and where
we live.  I have fun here.  I am happier than I have been in anywhere since we
left home after our parents died.  I like going to school at Tulane too and
studying with Dr. Smith.   I like being his lab rat and he says he can get me
financing for my PhD if I decide to get it.  He’s taught me a lot, and in some
ways he has been helpful to our cause.”

Nazir’s
face had darkened and he shook his younger brother violently until Ali’s teeth
chattered.  He gritted his teeth and barked at the slightly build young man  in
a hoarse voice, “Ali, for the last time.  Don't you
remember
the
Americans killed our parents.  It was their droan that killed them. 
These
people are our enemies.  We are here to KILL them, not become their friends and
help them in their labs.  Do you get it or do you need to go back to Yemen?”

Ali
was shocked at his brother's words.  “I get it, I get it, Nazir.  I am sorry. 
Now let me go.  I must get to work.  My shift starts in less than an hour,”
Ali  shuffled out of his brother's arms, terrified but trying hard not to show
it.  He left the warehouse quickly walking quickly towards Canal Street and
Tulane Medical Center.

Ali's
heart was heavy on his way to work.  He didn't like the business of hurting
others, even though his parents had been killed.  Hadn't the Taliban killed the
parents of many American children during 9/11?  Wasn't jihad just as
destructive as the Americans had been over the years.  He guessed his western
education had made him question his supposed "mission".  He was
startled when his phone alarm sounded signaling a text.  The text was from Dr.
Smith that said,

ALI,
CAN YOU COME ASAP?  WE HAVE A VIRAL OUTBREAK IN ONE OF THE HOSPITALS.  Tim.

He
quickly texted back and said, I AM ON MY WAY.  Ali.  He didn’t feel good about
this at all.  There was nothing good about a viral outbreak that could be good
for he and Nazir or Vadim even, for that matter.  At least not today.  He wondered
what was up.  His heart began to thud with anxiety.  Things were just not right
and that bothered him.   It bothered him a lot.