Traitor (36 page)

“As well as can be expected,” said Harry. “They’ve worked around the clock, as hard as any team I’ve ever worked with.”

“Had to be done,” said Liz.

“How was Turner?” asked Bob.

“Pissed, with a capital P-I-S-S-E-D.”

“We’ll make it up to him,” promised Liz.

“So where are we?” asked Bob.

“If everything goes as we expect, Geller will be boarding in the next couple of hours. All assets are in place. On confirmation that he has boarded, I will, with the President’s final approval, initiate Operation Takedown.”

“Anything you need from us?” asked Bob.

“Just make sure the President’s ready and available to take my call.”

“Will do.”

Harry sat back in his chair as the screen went black. Taking a human life, no matter whose, was never an easy decision to make. Killing thousands was even more difficult but beyond that, the number just became a number. The decision to kill vast numbers had already been made.

The greater good
, thought Carson,
the greater good
.

Terminal 4

London Heathrow Airport

Omar joined the line for flight UA35 to Los Angeles. A large number of desks showed the flight number, ensuring quick progress as the amount of desk agents prevented the build-up of queuing passengers.

Approaching the desk, Omar handed over his passport and his booking reference, as instructed.

“Thank you, Mr. Perez,” said the check-in agent.

The man typed in Omar’s reference and hit a key that resulted in Omar’s boarding pass printing. A young woman to his left was checking in at the adjacent desk and looked across at him. She smiled, liking what she saw. Omar wasn’t sure if it was he or the very muscly desk agent that the young woman was smiling at. However, rather than be flattered, he was angry at the inappropriate way in which she was dressed. Her short skirt and low cut top were no way for a young woman to dress in public. Remembering his instructions, he forced a smile back.

The check-in agent had other ideas. He could hardly take his eyes off of the young woman. Neither, it seemed, could most of the men in close proximity.
Pathetically weak
, thought Omar,
and exceptionally disrespectful
. He would be teaching their whole kind a lesson they’d never forget. There was only one true God and the world was about to find out once and for all who that was.

He smiled at the check-in agent, pulling his eyes away as the young woman bent forward to place her bag on the scales.

“This is your boarding card. We’re having a few problems with the departure boards. This is the gate number you should go to, ignore what’s on the boards. The flight’s on time, so be sure to go straight through security as boarding will start very soon,” he said, pointing to the number 25 he had written in thick red ink on Omar’s boarding pass.

Omar felt uneasy until he overheard the same conversation about the gate numbers with the young woman. He was checked in. He had his boarding pass and the flight was on time. That was all he needed to know. He spotted the sign that directed him to the restroom. He waited in a short line for a cubicle and, when he closed the door behind him, he withdrew the vial containing the virus. He noted the time and without a second’s pause for thought, injected the deadly virus into his body, whispering ‘Allahu Akbar’, as he pressed the plunger down.

As instructed, he flushed out the vial with a small bottle of bleach he had been given and then wrapped them both in toilet paper. He deposited the package in a bin as he exited the restroom. Next stop was security, where he breezed through without so much as a search. His US passport was working perfectly. Without it, he felt sure that his skin color would have elicited a body search.

Omar proceeded directly to the gate on his boarding pass where the plane was already filling up. He kept his eyes down and again was surprised at just how efficiently the line was moving. He spotted the young woman from check-in sitting nearby. He wondered why she wasn’t boarding but was quickly interrupted when the check-in agent called him forward.

“Mr. Perez?” he said, recognizing Omar and taking his boarding pass. “First aisle, second row on your right, window seat,” he said with a smile.

Omar stepped on board and avoided eye contact with anyone, just kept his head down and his eyes to himself.

“Excuse me,” he said, climbing over two men who were occupying the seats next to him. Both had their eyes closed as though they were sleeping. He wondered if they were jihadists like him. He doubted it. There were only supposed to be a few on each plane. It was still early in the morning and not surprisingly, most people would be trying to catch some more sleep. He sat down, buckled his seat belt and, as instructed, he closed his eyes like everyone around him and tried to get some sleep.

Narsarsuaq

Greenland

A small town at the Southern tip of Greenland, Narsarsuaq, had a lot to thank the US for. Its very existence in modern times had been a result of the US building a refueling station to transport aircraft from the US to Europe during the Second World War. Over four thousand American service men had been stationed there at its peak, assisting over ten thousand aircraft to make their transatlantic journeys. Even into the cold war years,
Narsarsuaq
and Bluie West One, the US name for the base, retained its strategic importance.

By 1958, the US had closed the base and moved most of its personnel to Thule Air Base on the eastern coast. However, benefiting from the legacy of the US airfield, the town of Narsarsuaq had grown, albeit not dramatically, but enough to offer a living to a small number of inhabitants who benefited from a flourishing tourist trade. The town (and its small airport) provided easy access to the southern tip of the glacier that covered over 80% of the world’s largest island.

Almost sixty years later, the inhabitants were once again thanking the United States. The impromptu visit by a collection of fighters from across the different branches of the US military, accompanied by the significant support crew required to maintain and prep them had led to a bustling few days in the small town. The collection represented just about every fighter currently flying and due in service across the USAF, Marines and US Navy.

The official reason given for the impromptu visit was a fault experienced on one of the transport aircraft that happened to be carrying the majority of spare parts for the accompanying fighters. They were therefore all required to land. The ultimate destination was alleged to be a number of trade shows and air shows across Europe. However, a quick search would have revealed that no air show or trade show was due to see a US Marine F-35 Lightning fighter of which there were two sitting on the Narsarsuaq runway.

Whatever the reason, it was an impressive display of the US forces’ flying power and was bringing back fond memories to many of the older inhabitants in town.

After two days of relative inactivity, the airfield had burst into life. The various crews that would prep each of the aircraft were busy preparing the planes for their pilots. As varied as the fighter types, the maintenance crews were from squadrons based all around the world. Few had met any of their counterparts before, nor would they ever see them again. Similarly, hardly a pilot amongst the fighter pilots had ever met any of the colleagues they were about to fly with.

The man who had been tasked with commanding the operation had described the groups of men as an amalgam of strangers, crew, pilots and aircraft, all passing in the night. There would be very few personnel in attendance who would even remember the event a year from then, some probably would wonder in a week whether it had actually taken place. However, for the Commander, Major General Howard Carter, it was a day he would remember for the rest of his life. For the first time in ten years, he would be behind the controls of a fighter plane. That would not be the reason he’d never forget. Despite having been drafted in from every corner of the world, from different branches of the US Military, and despite having never met one another before, on paper, not one of the pilots had one thing in common. Unless and until you dug a little deeper. Each of the fighter pilots at Narsarsuaq had lost a mother, brother, father, sister, wife, son or daughter on September 11, 2001.

The first two planes to take to the runway were a USAF F-22 Raptor and a US Navy FA18 Super Hornet. The Raptor pilot had lost his twin sister in the North Tower and had joined the Air Force a week later. The Navy Pilot had lost his father on American Airlines Flight 11 travelling from Boston to Los Angeles. Four years later, on his seventeenth birthday, he had walked into the naval recruiting office.

Both fighters leapt into the sky and headed east.

“Harry?” said Major General Howard Carter on connecting his call to Secretary of Defense Harry Carson. “Birds one and two are airborne.”

“Thanks for the update,” replied Harry somberly.

“Just remember, Harry, this is for Jackie,” he said, remembering his wife who had died in the South Tower.

“For Jackie,” agreed Harry, a tear welling in his eye, as he remembered his own sister fondly. And many, many others.

Too many
, thought Harry to himself.

“God bless America,” said Howard to his brother-in-law, trying to regain his composure.

“God bless America,” said Harry. Never had he meant it more.

Nick was stunned at how easily he had walked into the terminal. The anticipated additional security had not materialized. He approached the United Airlines check-in line, having barely seen a security officer and certainly none that appeared to have been advised of a potential terrorist in the area. His bookings for Munich-bound flights had obviously worked.

The line for the check-in was surprisingly short but he noted the large number of check-in desks being used for the flight. The staff were moving through passengers quickly, meaning the build-up was minimal. Unfortunately, not minimal enough as Nick spotted Larbi when a passenger in front of him moved, unblocking his view of the passengers in front.

Nick checked his booking. He had a business class booking. He just had to hope that Larbi hadn’t been afforded the same luxury. He had no issue with sitting near Larbi; it was Larbi sitting near him that Nick was worried about. Larbi was a mountain warrior. Airports, airplanes and technology in general were all new to him. There would be a significant risk that Larbi would look to Nick for help if he knew Nick was there.

Larbi turned and looked back down the line and straight at Nick. He looked right through him. Nick was impressed. For a fish out of water, Larbi was coping admirably but then Nick remembered that Larbi would not have recognized him. Nick looked nothing like the man Larbi knew as Nick. Larbi was also doing something he had been told not to. Look around. His level of English, like many of the jihadists, was basic to nonexistent. However, all had been taught the very basics they needed for the trip. Most would have no ability to speak any more than, ‘please’, ‘thank you’ and ‘good morning’. American Passport holders who didn’t speak the language posed the greatest risk. However, they had all been taught to answer ‘yes’ to packing their own bags and ‘no’ to any dangerous items. Other than that, all they really needed to know was their departure/boarding gate. All of which had been explained to them prior to their journeys.

Nick watched closely as Larbi, probably as bad an English speaker as 95% of the jihadists who spoke no English, walked forward to the check-in desk. He handed over his passport and Nick could see him nodding his head to the first question and shaking to the second. The check-in agent then wrote something on Larbi’s boarding card and pointed, directing him to the security gates. Larbi smiled and without a look backwards proceeded to the security gates.

Nick was pleased. If Larbi could do it, all ten thousand could.

Nick felt a knot in his stomach as the check-in agent called him forward. The young man looked at him closer than Nick would have liked but made no sign, at least outwardly, that he had recognized Nick. Nick answered the normal security questions and was rewarded with his boarding pass with instructions to proceed directly to the gate that the agent had written clearly on the boarding pass.

Nick smiled at the young family checking in for the flight at the desk next to his and as instructed, proceeded to the gate. Security was quick and seemed uninterested in him. Again, Nick had no doubt that he was safe, thanks to the Munich bookings. He passed a group of excited passengers taking pictures of two US Airways planes. He looked at them and couldn’t see anything notably different. They certainly weren’t a new model, just a pretty standard looking Boeing 747 jumbo jet to him.

“What’s the excitement?” he asked one of the men, snapping shots like there was no tomorrow.

“It’s a US Airways Boeing 747,” the man said, as though that meant something to Nick.

“And?”

“They don’t exist!” he said, somewhat negating his previous statement.