Operation Hell Gate - Marc Cerasini [61]
"Stinger missiles, you mean?"
Taj nodded. "At the start of the invasion, Russian HIND helicopters dominated our skies, slaughtered our people. Then the CIA brought us shoulder-fired missiles. They were the arrows we used to bring the Russian vultures down. After the Stingers came, the Russians feared us."
"What went wrong?"
"Someone from my clan — a renegade, an outcast I later murdered with my own hands — this man provided intelligence to the Soviets. The Russians used that knowledge to seize the CIA weapon shipments, capture American agents. After that, the CIA stopped trusting my chieftain, and they stopped supplying weapons to my clan." Taj's expression darkened. In the dim lighting, his eyes seemed to burn with hatred. "Then the Spetsnaz came..."
"Soviet special forces?"
Taj nodded. "They hunted down our clan leaders, ran them to the ground like dogs and blew them up in their caves. They came to our settlements, raped our women and murdered our children, stuffing their mouths with forbidden pork so they could never, ever sit at the table with their God. And it was not enough for the Russian demons to destroy my people, they also ravaged the land, slaughtered our goats, and poisoned our wells."
Taj paused, working his jaws under his sallow skin. "In time, we dealt with the Soviets. We butchered them. Drove the infidel from our lands and brought jihad to their homeland. Now I have come to America, to New York, to deal death to America, to take my revenge on the great power who left us defenseless in the face of our enemy."
A sudden burst of gunfire echoed through the tunnels, reaching their ears.
"We have to move now," said Jack. "If you know about this tunnel, the FBI will know about it, too. They're going to follow us."
"No," Taj replied.
"But..."
"Keep silent and listen, Mr. Lynch."
A moment later, they all heard the roar of a muffled explosion, then the crash of tons of masonry. Jack knew the century-old building that housed the delicatessen had been blown up by the men inside.
The young man grimaced, blinked back tears. Taj clapped his hand on the young man's shoulder, squeezed it.
"Inshallah," Taj whispered. "You must be strong," he reminded him. "This is what God demands of us. Who are we to question Him?"
12
THE FOLLOWING TAKES PLACE BETWEEN THE HOURS OF 8 A.M. AND 9 A.M. EASTERN DAYLIGHT TIME
8:00:01 A.M. EDT
Centers for Disease Control, Atlanta
Boxy and utilitarian in design, Building One on Clifton Road at the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention was the venue for many of the CDC's press conferences and media briefings. On this sunny, sweltering Georgia morning, the main conference room was not open to the press or the public, but the space was already crowded for the history-making teleconference.
As one of thirteen major operating components of the federal Department of Health and Human Services, the CDC served as a sentinel for the health of people in the United States and throughout the world. One of the CDC's mandates was to protect the health and safety of the public through the prevention and monitoring of infectious diseases and the creation of new, more effective vaccines — the very subject of the briefing that was about to begin.
At precisely eight o'clock, Dr. Henry Johnston Garnett's digital wristwatch issued a series of quiet staccato beeps. The Director of the Centers for Disease Control quickly muted the alarm on his wrist and promptly called the briefing to order. The tall, white-haired African-American physician and researcher offered the audience his greetings, then turned the floor over to Dr. Colin Fife, Head of Immunology Research and Development for Paxton Pharmaceuticals in New York City.
Dr. Fife, stocky man with a thick red beard and a partially bald head, stepped up to the podium. Waving away the scattered applause, he began to speak.
"As the