PART 2: INCUBATION
The White House – 7AM
President Hooper sipped on his coffee as the morning sun cascaded through his bedroom window. His first lady, Jeanne, wrapped her arms around him from behind. The dawn illuminated her fair complexion, blonde hair and long, lean face over his shoulder.
"Good morning, Honey." She was wearing a bathrobe, while he was already dressed for the day in his presidential suit and tie.
"Good morning, Dear."
"Have you heard from Kalli recently?" Their twenty year old daughter attended Brown University.
"No, you?" He shook his head. His gaze remained steadied on the South Lawn out of the window.
"Remember that house on Hickory Lane? Kalli and I used to throw the baseball in that yard every night after work." Nostalgia swept over the fossilized memory.
"She is still your little girl..." He nodded in agreement and started for the door, until his wife protested.
"Where do you think you're going?" She asked, putting her foot down. He stopped but did not turn to her; he waited for her to cross the peach carpet around to him.
"Well, I thought I would go lead the free world..." He responded coyly. She met him with a smile, seeing the lack of sleep accumulating under his eyes. She leaned in and kissed her husband on his clean shaven cheek.
"Not like that you're not." She straightened his tie to her exact specifications and gave his cheek a love tap. He smiled at his wife and then exited their bedroom. As soon as the President exited his bedroom, his lead Secret Service agent, Jackson Callahan, updated his comm channel.
"Rover in motion," the President stopped and turned to his lead agent. Callahan had black combed over hair that faded to gray down to his sideburns. His face had grown tighter with age, stretched into an Irish sallow.
"Good Morning, Jackson," he nodded.
"Good Morning, Mr. President," the President pivoted away from the agent and walked the halls, greeting each member of his staff, knowing every name by heart.
"Martha, how's Billy doing in baseball this season?" The President asked a cleaning lady, dusting the hallway clock. His staff admired him for his attention to personal interaction.
"He's doing well, Mr. President, he leads the conference in strikeouts. His curve ball has gotten a lot better this season," the smiling lady answered as he passed. The President spun to engage a moment further.
"Wow! Throwing curveballs? He could have a career in politics..." He winked at her as he turned to trot down the stairs.
He navigated the ornate hallways, passing over hardwood floor to marble tile to red carpet, until he reached the front foyer, where a metal detector was set up for visitors.
"How's your wife's treatments going, Jerry?" The President asked, offering a consoling pat on the security guard's back. The staff filtered in for the work day, smiling over at the President.
"She's responding well to the chemo, but it has definitely been a tough road. I wish it would work faster," Jerry responded.
"My favorite philosopher, Aristotle, once said 'Patience is bitter, but its fruit is sweet.'" The President's eyes found Jerry's. "She'll be in my prayers," the security guard nodded his gratitude as the President continued on through the halls toward the Oval Office.
"Good Morning, Barbara," his long time administrative assistant greeted him.
"Good Morning, your 7:30 meeting is waiting in the study, let me know when you want me to call them in," she reminded him.
"Thank you. Send some flowers from me to Jerry's wife. Put a card in there too," he instructed as he she jotted down the notes on an old personal day-timer. She used old school methods of tracking his day.
The President entered the Oval Office and paced across the cornflower blue carpet and past the red and white striped couches. He, for a moment, stopped and reflected on the previous night's discussion with his Chief of Staff. He tugged on his shirt cuff as he pondered how he would make a second term without his right-hand man. Momentarily despondent, he proceeded to the Resolute Desk. The oak desk was etched with intricate borders and a central eagle that resembled the Presidential seal.
Taking his seat at the desk and shaking off thoughts of the future, he focused on the current crisis of the day detailed in his daily briefing report. The daily briefing report was the President's confidential intelligence update on international and domestic affairs. After reviewing the few known facts about the missing bacteria and the terrorist's involvement, he knew that the Intel would have to come from a different source – one that left as much as possible off the books, like the one he had in his hands. He pressed a button on his desk phone.
"Barbara..." His voice was weak, for he had a foreboding deep in his gut.
"Yes, Mr. President?"
"Call them in, please."
"Yes, Mr. President," a moment later the opposite office door opened and Colonel Jackson Hardy walked in to the Oval Office – his military formals remained pressed although his face had withered from the stress of his illustrious career. Jackson Hardy was the designer and lead instructor of Project Sparta. Given Xander's orphan status during training, Hardy was entrusted with custody rights over him and quickly became a father figure to him. Behind Hardy came National Security Advisor, Janet Powers, the NIH Director, Michelle Fernandez and Marty Jacobs, Chief of Staff. The President directed the ladies to their seats and sat in the one ornate armchair before them.
"Go ahead Jack," the President directed, Hardy to kick off the briefing.
"There has been a development in the situation," Hardy paused for a moment and eyed the civilian in the room, Ms. Fernandez. Hooper noticed and waved it off.
"We need to figure this out together Jackson, I'm granting her code clearance for whatever you have to say," Hardy nodded obediently and continued.
"Ezra Gonet has admitted that he has knowledge of the situation. He is currently in custody in Sparta's Compound and is giving us clues to four planned targets..." The room went silent, only an uncomfortable shuffle of papers could be heard in the Oval Office.
"Clues?" Jacobs asked perplexed and off guard.
"Yes, clues."
"You have to be kidding me? Are we going to have to put the Hardy Boys on it?" Jacobs asked condescendingly. Hardy did not flinch at the comment, rather fixated his expression in a sternness that ran a chill through the room. The full weight of the matter at hand could be seen in his eyes. After many grim moments of silence, Hardy continued.
"Mr. President, Ezra called it a game. He is giving a clue to the next target every four hours. Why he is doing this? I do not know. We are still unclear about his motives. We have no choice but to comply with him, as he is our only source of Intel." Hardy reported. The President shifted in his chair as he carefully weighed the scenario.
"Has his Intel been proven to be accurate?"
"Yes Mr. President, Ezra's first riddle came at 4AM. It was a four-line rhyme that eventually pointed to the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. After solving the clue and arriving, our men were too late. Lieutenant Daniel Walker, a sentinel of the Honored Guard, was bleeding severely from the nose upon seeing them and had a seizure which ultimately led to his death," the air was punched out of the room.
"You mean the disease is in Washington, DC now?" the President asked.
"Yes, Mr. President, it apparently has been transported—"
"How could that happen?" Jacobs interjected.
"We are dealing with highly trained terrorists – some of them were even trained by us... They know how to operate in the shadows. This is obviously a calculated and well-schemed plan," Powers added her analysis."If the disease is within the city limits should we not put the public on alert?" Before anyone could register what she asked, Jacobs pounced on the question.
"It is imperative to keep this quiet, if people know there is a deadly pathogen loose in DC, chaos will break out," Jacobs' assertive take became abrasive.
"I will call together the CIA, FBI and NSA directors. We need their resources on this. We will create an emergency joint task force to aid us from our command here. We need their support. ... I want this set up in the Situation Room, I want eyes and ears on the situation. We are running command on this mission," Hooper's eyes scanned the solemn expressions of the room to which there were no dissenting opinions. The President continued.
"I won't risk American lives in the name of plausible deniability. With that being said, a public announcement will only cause a panic, so we need to keep this crisis contained for now..." Jacobs nodded agreement to the President's explanation.
The room reflected for a moment on what they were up against. The President's formidable eyes fell to the dossier in his lap with a headshot of Ezra Gonet.
"Look at what Project Sparta has created, sir!" Marty Jacobs spoke up, as if attempting to incite a revolution. "These men are animals. I have been opposing this black ops branch of our clandestine services for this very reason. They have and always have had too much leash and look at where it has gotten us!" Hardy, undaunted, addressed his concerns calmly.
"Project Sparta has done more for this country than you will ever know, sir. Ezra was a bad apple, I'll take responsibility for my part in his training but I suggest it was because he was prematurely taken from the program and thrown into active field duty, prior to him being ready for it. A decision that came from... politicians," Hardy fired back the rejoinder.
"None of that matters now!" the President raised his voice, muting the Oval Office. After the President exhaled his anger he continued in a more composed tone. "I know Project Sparta is a force of good in this country, Jack. Let's focus on the crisis at hand... Has the infection spread?"
"No sir. It appears that only Lieutenant Walker was infected. We have closed Arlington Cemetery and quarantined the sentinels in the facility below the tomb in case they were exposed. James Axle is maintaining the quarantine and monitoring the other sentinels for symptoms. They will be allowed shifts to ensure they continue to guard the tomb. We have the cadaver of Walker, sir, and are beginning to autopsy the body in a secure environment. They will run a series of tests to better understand the effects the contagion has on the human body," Hardy briefed.
"Tell me more about Ezra's game," the President instructed.
"Every four hours we will receive a new clue... so that means the next one will be given at 8AM....then another at noon and the last target will be given at 4PM. At 8PM he has said he will give us a fifth and final clue – that leads to the cure."
"The cure? They have the cure?"
"They claim to have the cure, yes Mr. President."
"Well what do they want?" Jacobs asked.
"What do you mean by that?" Powers turned to her colleague.
"If they have the cure they are obviously holding it for ransom. They must want something or they wouldn't have the cure as a bargaining chip," the Chief of Staff explained plainly.
"Good point, Marty," the President arched his eyebrows. "We need to find that out, as quickly as possible. For now, we get organized and assemble our resources. I want Jackson and Janet to lead this effort. The next clue comes at 8AM?" Hardy accepted the order and confirmed the question with one nod. The President turned to the NIH director.
"Ms. Fernandez, what do you have on the origins of the disease?" The rest of the room turned to her as well.
"This disease was discovered in the Congo by Catherine Mueller, the scientist who was profiling the disease in the NIH at the time of the heist. She collected it from a village at the request of the World Health Organization. Since then the regional office of the WHO in the Congo has found no other instances of infection in the region," Fernandez updated.
The President sat quietly, contemplating the findings with his finger lining the side of his face and thumb positioned under his chin.
"How fast can it spread?" The President asked.
"We don't know how highly diffusible the infectious agent is – but based on all that we know from the village in the Congo, it spreads fast," her voice dropped to a biting reality.
"What are you trying to tell us?" The President asked.
"Reports came that the village was visited only one week prior, all of the villagers were seemingly healthy at that point. Within that one week, every resident of the village was dead. The contagion has a 100% mortality rate."
"My God..."Jacobs gasped. "Imagine what that could do in a busy metropolitan area like Washington."
"Could it have been some kind of local growing bacteria? Something in their water?" Powers asked, pursuing a hunch.
"It is possible, but we found something even more strange in the village," she responded.
"And what is that?" the President asked, leaning forward in his seat.
"The dead bodies were taken to a nearby containment facility for incineration. But one of the bodies among them was not African like the others. It appears the village had a visitor – a Middle Eastern visitor, judging by his skin tone," a silent moment moved through the room as the implications settled.
"A field test for the terrorists' operation?" Powers asked.
"Maybe..." Hardy chimed into the discussion. All heads turned to the opposite side of the table, where Hardy's chin rested in a contemplative palm. With the new facts on the table, the discussion had quickly moved from science to tactical strategy. "Or... they were trying to get it noticed."
An uneasy silence beat through the room as his expertise cast a new light on the subject.
"They baited us to bring it here for testing," the President realized. "We provided its transport."