The Red Syndrome (21 page)

"Because they will kill me."

"Who?"

He didn't answer.

"Your brothers?"

"No. The people who helped us. They told me that they have people
inside and if I betray them, I won't be safe anywhere, not even a U.S. prison."

"We know you hired Boris Zhukov to collect the money from the
charities and swing it around the world. The money you were sending to your brothers for their reign of terror is the money that Zhukov
laundered."

"Did he tell you that?" Fazal asked in panic.

"Maybe. Why are you protecting him?"

Fazal looked startled. It seemed that hearing the name Zhukov scared
him more than anything else. He was willing to die for his brothers, but
facing Zhukov probably meant an even worse ending.

"How did you forward the money?" The interrogator pressed forward,
once again trying not to break the rhythm.

Fazal hesitated. "I made wire transfers to locations outside the United
States."

"Who gave you the instructions?"

"My brothers."

"How?"

Fazal paused. There was no response.

"We know about the coded messages," said the interrogator. "Is that
how you exchanged information?"

I thought that was smart. The interrogator showed he knew about the
messages but didn't say whether they'd been broken.

Fazal didn't answer.

"Tell me what's in the messages," repeated the interrogator. Still no
reply. Fazal lowered his head.

Wisely, the interrogator moved on. "I thought that the Arabs' struggle
was limited to fighting Israelis. Why did you bring your war here?"

Fazal came to life. He raised his head. "You are fools to believe what
you hear about the conflicts Muslims are involved in." He was defiant.
He probably sensed by now that he was personally doomed, no matter
what he said or did, and that realization must have invigorated him.

"Fools?"

"Yes. For example, the Arab-Israeli conflict; it is not the principal cause
of our struggle."

"So what is the cause, then?"

"Our struggle is against the corrupt values of America. You are all infidels and you try to force your rotten culture on us."

"How were you going to fight it?"

"Can't you see the facts?" Fazal raised his voice. "Our aim, in the simplest terms, is the destruction and expulsion of all Western values and
influences - America, Christianity, Judaism, democracy, feminism, capitalism, secular laws, and pluralism - from anywhere they are in contact
with Islam."

"What is it about the Western influence that disgusts you and the other
members?"

"Your humiliation of Islam after September ii. Your vulgar Western
culture, which corrupts our youth. Hollywood, video games, and alcohol
is what many of them care about now."

"So the Palestinian struggle is not your cause?"

"Some of it, yes, but only because of our solidarity with other Muslims.
So we use some words supporting the Palestinians. But what we really
want is all of you converted to Islam or dead."

"To whom do you refer when you say we?"

"The Slaves of Allah are at the center of an international network of
the Prophet's followers that has plotted and carried out attacks against
the West, specifically against the United States. Your end is nearing.
Can't you see that? Your civilization is collapsing. You will soon vanish or
accept Islam as the only religion."

"So the war against us is a clash of civilizations between the West and
Islam? It's us against you?" asked the interrogator. "Our culture against
yours?"

"Of course it is. We will win and all infidels will have subordinate status
to the followers of Islam, the true faith."

"So how do you explain that several predominantly Muslim nations
like Indonesia or Turkey have never participated in or supported terrorism?"

Fazal was not deterred. "Their leaders are agents of the West. Look at
the Islamic Republic of Iran. They have always actively supported us.
They have shown us the way to ensure Islamic domination."

"What about religious tolerance and human rights?" asked the interrogator.

"We have particular hatred for the American separation of church and
state. Why? We live under the mercy of God and his prophet. Your manmade laws, and your equal rights for women and gays disgust us."

"Tell me more. I'm listening," said the interrogator. Fazal was encouraged
and played his part in the investigator's old trick, one we had rehearsed at
the Mossad Academy: Let the suspect talk and talk; in the end he'll feel you are
his friend, and will dig his own legal grave.

"Your attempts to promote democratic reforms in the Arab world are
an affront to Islam. You are imposing your rotten values on us. This is a
new form of colonialism. There are Muslim nations that have allowed
your cultural invasion. Their rulers are doomed. You think we are suicidal? Think again. Look at France or Britain."

"Why are they suicidal?"

"Because they in fact allowed us to operate on their territory."

"I thought the French actually cracked down pretty hard on terror cells
within their country," said the interrogator drily.

"Nothing like the crackdown of America," said Fazal.

"What was the intended use of the money once transferred?" The
interrogator brought the questioning back on course.

No answer.

"Did you kill Bernard Lipinsky?"

No answer.

"Do you know who did?"

No answer.

"I'll have to send you back downstairs," said the interrogator. That definitely sounded like a threat, and it confirmed my earlier assumption.

Fazal looked startled, but kept his silence.

"What is your connection to Boris Zhukov?"

No answer.

"What's the Slaves of Allah's next move?"

"You don't expect me to tell you." Fazal's black eyes glowed in utter contempt. So he wasn't becoming his friend after all.

"Do they plan an attack on the U.S.?"

Fazal looked down.

"Answer me," said the interrogator, raising his voice for the first time.
"Don't make me force you."

Fazal raised his head and snapped, "Allah does not guide the transgressing people." He repeated that verse several times like a mantra,
closing his eyes.

"Civilians will die? Is that what you're telling me?"

Fazal shrugged.

"Will your conscience be clean when you face your Creator? When you
could have prevented the death of innocent people, all killed in the name
of zeal? Your zeal?"

"It's not for me to decide," said Fazal quietly. "If Allah doomed them,
then who am I to challenge Him?"

"And if you and your family were to be victims of the attack, you would
still not prevent it?"

This was a point of no return for Fazal. The interrogator had touched
a sore spot. The calm and composed bank employee was transformed into
a fiery preacher.

"No! We are Slaves of Allah and you are infidels. You will soon die a
painful death. Look at me," he yelled, his eyes ablaze. "You will not be
able to do anything! The streets of New York will be empty and desolate
and your economy will collapse. That'll be the Slaves of Allah's first blow
on your rotten culture and I promise it will not be the last. Remember my
words: The Red Syndrome will plague you."

"The Red Syndrome?" asked the interrogator calmly.

"Yes, you'll have red eyes, red skin rash, and then your veins and arteries
will explode, you'll vomit blood, and your liver will melt. Red, red, red, all
around you, then you will die!" His black eyes rolled in ecstasy; he was no
longer present in the room. He had been carried away by ecstatic and passionate hatred that went beyond differences of political opinion. There
was no place for misunderstanding. It was black and white, them versus
us. Any Christian, Hindu, Buddhist, or Jew, even a Muslim who supported Western civilization was evil, deserving of painful death.

Hodson buzzed the intercom. "Get me the Centers for Disease Control
in Atlanta."

Lynn's voice came on the intercom shortly. "Mr. Hodson, I have Dr.
Herman Nadler from CDC on line one."

"This is Robert Hodson, FBI assistant director in charge in New York.
I need you to identify a syndrome described by a suspect."

Dr. Nadler spoke calmly. "Did he or she identify it by name or symptoms?"

"He called it `the Red Syndrome' and described exploding arteries and
veins, vomiting blood. Is there something in what he said?"

"Well, I don't recognize the term Red Syndrome, but the symptoms
you're describing sound like hemorrhagic fever. Syndrome is the outbreak
of several symptoms together. Hemorrhagic fever is a severe multisystem
syndrome caused by a virus. The overall vascular system is damaged; the
virus causes the collapse of the blood vessels, resulting in heavy bleeding."

"How is the disease spread?"

"It passes from one infected person or animal to others in close proximity. We don't know of any previous cases of widespread contamination
of hemorrhagic fever in North America."

"How contagious is it?"

"Extremely."

"Survival rate?"

"Some people get over it."

"Some?"

"Unfortunately only a few."

"And the rest?"

"Do not."

A chill was slowly making its way down my spine. I looked at Benny. This
wasn't news to him; still, I wondered what he felt. He didn't move a muscle.

"I've heard enough," said Hodson. He buzzed the intercom. "Send an
immediate alert to the Homeland Security secretary and get me the
Federal Emergency Management Agency, the New York governor's
office, New York City mayor's office, and the New York National Guard
at Stratton Air Guard Base at the Schenectady County airport."

Hodson then called the interrogator's earpiece. "Lean on him, get more
details, break a bone or two if necessary. I'll protect your ass."

I looked at Fazal, who was still foaming at the mouth.

Hodson turned to Benny. "I'm going to play hardball with this asshole.
The urgency of obtaining information about the potential attacks justifies tightening some bolts here."

Benny and I knew all too well the dilemma posed by a terrorist like
Fazal. Fanatics don't listen to reason. In Israel, where the threat of terrorist attack is pervasive, the law has determined that if someone poses an
immediate threat-a "ticking bomb"-the security services are allowed
to use "measured physical pressure." Torture is generally condemned by
law, but in an extreme case, when lives are deemed to be at stake, "special
measures" are permitted: sleep deprivation, prolonged shackling -
banana-style, with hands and legs tied together behind the back - and
the only manner involving actual physical contact: shaking a person
repeatedly by holding his shirt.

Hodson muttered, "Using biological agents will likely go unnoticed for
days. It's not a lights, bells, and sirens type of incident. We need to move
our asses and nail the bastards."

I went out to the hallway with Benny. "Let's get a drink of water," I
suggested, meaning, Let's talk.

In really tense situations I stay calm. But I must have some mannerism,
some habit on which I draw at a time like this to keep me from acting
impulsively. And the answer is water. Lots of water. Tension goes high, I
gulp a gallon.

"Is the United States ready for a bioterror attack?" asked Benny as we
stepped outside.

"Frankly, I don't know," I said. "The sad fact is that civil defenses across
the nation are a rudimentary patchwork that could prove inadequate for
what might lie ahead, especially lethal germs."

"What about the hospital system? Could it provide help to a large
number of people who would need sophisticated medical care?"

"Hell, no."

"Anyway, how would the government even know there is a bioattack?
Thousands of sick people could indicate widespread disease, but it doesn't
necessarily mean it's an attack," Benny pointed out.

"I don't think there are any measures in place," I said. Indeed, the
government relies on reports from health care providers that people are
seeking medical attention for unusual symptoms. The CDC then issues
a national alert calling on public health officials to initiate heightened
surveillance for any unusual symptoms or numbers of cases. Still, symptoms of serious illness often appear days and weeks after an infection has
begun to spread, when life-saving treatments are no longer effective. "We
just heard Hodson talking to them," I added. "He should have done it a
lot earlier. The world is simply unprepared to deal with bioterrorism."

"Why does Hodson refuse to link my missing operatives to his investigation?"

"I've only known him for a short time," I said, drinking a whole bottle
of water. "But I already know that he follows hard facts, not suspicions. To
me and to you, it seems obvious. I don't believe it's just a coincidence that
two different Islamic terrorist organizations are planning the same bioattack on the U.S. I'm convinced it's the same organization that planned
the bioterrorism and kidnapped your men. Give Hodson time. The conclusion will ultimately sink in. Anyway, I have to go back to the briefing
room. Hodson is about to address the task force. I'll see you later."

"I'll be at my hotel," said Benny and went to the elevator.

When I entered, Hodson gave me an annoyed look for being late. The
mood in the room was somber. A major crisis was developing. There was
no room for private talk or distraction.

He continued, "Biological weapons, with a few exceptions, are hard to
make and use. In 1995 Aum Shinrikyo, a Japanese cult, launched a satin
nerve gas attack in and around Tokyo that was meant to kill millions but
in the end killed only twelve and injured thousands. There has always
been the fear that some rogue state or terrorist group would successfully
deploy germ weapons, as knowledge of how to make deadly weapons
spreads, along with the necessary technology.