Paul McKellips - Jericho 3

The King’s motorcade drove through the streets of Casablanca, Morocco with a military escort after his private luxury jet landed and parked at the Executive Terminal at Mohammed V International Airport.

The black Mercedes pulled up to the side entrance of Clinique Zerktouni Orthopedics and Rehab center at Rue 9 Avril.

The King got out and waved to those gathered on the streets as six smiling technicians, doctors and physical therapists waited for him under the entrance awning. It was Thursday, and the entire Clinique Zerktouni staff was still buzzing about the international Unity Festival race and the fact that a team from Morocco had won.

The King’s contingent of bodyguards engulfed him from the front, sides and rear as they walked briskly from the car toward the entrance way under the green awning. None of them noticed the doctor who reached into his white lab coat or the five others who reached for guns inside their blue surgical scrubs.

Gunfire from three high-powered rifles shattered the morning silence as six members of an Iranian hit squad fell dead from precise two-round volleys before the assassins had a chance to fire a single shot.

The King was pushed inside the hospital by bodyguards as the King’s entourage cleared unfired weapons away from the dead “doctors and technicians” lying on the ground by the sidewalk. Saudi bodyguards scanned the adjacent rooftops looking for the shooters just as Reuven’s video link went dark.

Reuven turned his TV monitor off, put a piece of chewing gum in his mouth and left the command center as Yitzhak buried his face in his hands.

Qoms, Iran

When word finally reached the gathering in the Shura Council room, the Shoeib threw his cup of hot tea against the wall. The breaking glass and his unrestrained anger captivated the room.

Ayatollah Yazdi asked for the report on the wind of torment. Qazvin reluctantly began to speak.

“The Zionists are lying, using all of their old tricks of deception. There have been some reports that people are very ill in the northern part of the Gaza Strip. But in the non-existent lands of the Zionists… nothing. Not a word has been mentioned. If they are suffering, we do not know… the world does not know.”

Yazdi was silent. The room was silent.

“Then it is clear. The Age of the Coming is soon, but it is not yet now. May God’s name be praised. We shall continue to wait the return of the Twelfth Imam, the Mahdi, and pray that day will be very soon. But today is not that day.”

Tel Aviv, Israel

Yitzhak followed quickly behind Reuven as they left the command center with full knowledge that the Saudi King was safe.

“Full report?” Reuven asked as they walked.

“More than 400 are in hospitals getting antibiotics and treatments. Most of them elderly or children,” Yitzhak said as he read the Health Minister’s report.

“Fatalities?”

“None… so far,” Yitzhak answered.

“News reports?”

“Nothing. Everyone is talking about the Unity Festival and the flu season. Not a word about tularemia. But there is this.” Yitzhak handed Reuven a Delta Airlines passenger manifest from Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris.

Reuven looked agitated.

Walter Reed National Military Hospital

Bethesda, Maryland

US Navy Captain “Camp” Campbell stopped for an early cup of coffee at his favorite barista in Old Town Alexandria before making the quick drive to Walter Reed in his Defender 90. It was a beautiful Friday morning. He listened to every news story over the previous two days, and there was nothing about an outbreak of illness in Israel. Nothing could have made him happier.

Lieutenant Colonel Leslie Raines was scheduled to arrive at Washington Dulles on Sunday, and Camp was excited to see where his new interest in Raines might go.

The Friday “in briefing” was standard procedure. Camp would get a tour, meet his staff, and get a full briefing on his assignment. The real work would start on Monday.

During the Walter Reed tour, Camp’s iPhone started vibrating. The phone indicated “unknown number,” so he let it go to voice mail. Within seconds it vibrated again.

“Ma’am, I need to excuse myself and take this call,” Camp said without waiting for permission. He stepped outside into the sunshine.

“Yes.”

“Shepherd’s Pie?”

A warm smile broke over Camp’s face.

“Brother Bloom… it’s great to hear your voice. I’ve been watching the news, and I’m very happy for you.”

“Maybe that happiness is too soon.”

“Okay.”

“The evil rabbit hunter.”

“I’m tracking… what about him?”

“His name came up on the system. Flew from over here to over there. Got a rental car.”

“Where?”

“His alma mater.”

“Okay…”

“Shepherd’s Pie… tomorrow is what you call… homecoming… alumni day.”

Camp ended the call and sprinted toward the parking lot as his tour guide watched helplessly through the window.

Inside the Defender 90, Camp hit Billy Finn’s speed-dial number. Finn was sitting in General Ferguson’s office when the call came in.

“What’s up, captain? Saving any lives this morning at Walter Reed?”

“Finn… I need your help…” Camp yelled frantically.

“Calm down, what’s going on?”

“Just got a call from Molly Bloom… they found Kazi’s name on a flight list. He’s in the states, Billy.”

“That’s perfect. We can nail him there.”

“Not so fast. Molly said he’s got a rental car. This is homecoming weekend for his alma mater… alumni day.”

“Whoa… what are you saying, Camp? Are you thinking winds of torment at a college football game?”

“Doesn’t sound ‘rational,’ does it?” Camp asked rhetorically. “You still got Kazi’s file?”

Finn ruffled through a stack of folders on Ferguson’s desk. The general was perplexed with Billy Finn’s burst of energy.

“Here it is. Undergraduate degree? Microbiology, at Auburn.”

“Billy, get your Atlanta field office up to speed and give them my number. He had to fly into Atlanta, probably staying at a hotel near Auburn.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m driving to Auburn, Billy… I don’t know what Kazi looks like, but I know what he’s capable of.”

Jordan-Hare Field

Auburn University

Auburn, Alabama

Acrowd of 87,451 cheering fans were packed into Jordan-Hare Stadium, the twelfth largest stadium in the NCAA, for the homecoming football game between the Auburn Tigers and the Aggies of New Mexico State University. A full Friday night of music, parades and the annual float competition had put everyone in a great mood for what was supposed to be an easy win over a non-conference opponent.

Camp made the 750-mile drive from Washington in less than 10 hours. Six members of the FBI’s field office, including two snipers, had met with Camp, the Alabama State Troopers and Campus Police from midnight until 2:00am. Three booths at a local Waffle House served as the make-shift command center as each was debriefed on who Kazi was and what tularemia could do. The FBI had ordered two truckloads of the antibiotic ciprofloxacin be delivered to campus medical stations, local hospitals and 24-hour clinics.

Ticket-takers were given a copy of Kazi’s college photo, a photo that was taken long before the college student became a man and a wanted international terrorist. The once 19-year-old student from Pakistan had long disheveled hair and a short cropped beard with bare spots. He was wearing an orange and blue Auburn Tigers sweatshirt.