The Genesis Plague (2010)

from the tunnel and curved along McClellan Highway towards Logan Airport. Overhead, a wide-body jet was roaring in for a landing.
    ‘Jason says Stokes has been talking to that platoon colonel in Iraq?’ she asked.
    ‘That’s right. And he wants me to find out why. There are a few more things you’ll need to know about the preacher.’
    Flaherty didn’t need to go to the folder to relay what Lillian had told him. He explained that in a previous life, Stokes was a Special Ops commando who’d served loyally in some of the most hostile regions on the planet, alongside Bryce Crawford. Then he told her how in 2003 Stokes had been discharged from service after losing half his right leg to a soccer ball packed with explosive.
    By the time he’d finished, the Yukon had turned off Logan Airport Service Drive and was angling between the massive aeroplane hangars bordering the airstrip.
    ‘Aren’t you going to tell him that he missed the terminal?’ Brooke whispered to Flaherty, motioning to the driver.
    ‘We’re not going to the main terminal,’ Flaherty said. ‘We don’t have time for that. Especially with all the flight delays from the storm. Lillian made other arrangements for us. She’s fond of Jason. Pretty much gives him whatever he wants.’ He pointed through the window to a sleek Cessna Citation X jet idling on the tarmac. It was brilliant white with no markings. Not even an N-number on its tail fin. ‘We’ll be getting express service at 700 miles per hour.’

37
LAS VEGAS
    Like those of a fiendish voyeur, Randall Stokes’s prying eyes glimmered with immense pleasure as he watched how his unwitting Arab detainees reacted to the eerie noises emanating deep within the mountain’s belly. In the background, mechanical sounds echoed through the passage - gears engaging, pistons whining, a droning whoosh. The Arabs were mistaking the noises for guns, or artillery. A man with a patchy beard was trying to hush the others, but to little avail. Adjusting the audio level, Stokes listened to them yammering on in their native tongue. During his extensive tours in the Middle East, Stokes had picked up enough Arabic to get the gist of the animated exchange. The Arabs spoke of infidels, Allah’s divine plan and retribution in the name of the Great Prophet. All the while, they were readying their weapons. And while the four underlings, huddled around the dim cell phone light, attempted to hash out a hasty defence strategy, Al-Zahrani was surprisingly cool; resolute beyond what the situation warranted. Though he stood away from the light, the infrared clearly showed him studying the exchange - assessing behaviour; mentally separating the strong from the weak. Clearly he wasn’t pleased with what he was hearing.
    There was an unmoving solemnity and drive about Al-Zahrani that commanded respect - qualities typical of a general. The fact that this revolutionary was a star Oxford University graduate and hailed from a wealthy Saudi oil family was most intriguing. Most men could only dream to gain the luxurious life that Al-Zahrani had staunchly abandoned. Such indifference to material things required incredible inner strength, yet, to Stokes, underscored the potency of the new enemy that threatened the modern world. Tainted ideology was a most fearsome force.
    In videotapes Stokes had heard Al-Zahrani repeatedly mention that Allah spoke directly to him and protected him like an avenging sentinel. If that claim once seemed farfetched to Stokes, Al-Zahrani’s current actions dispelled any doubt that the man believed his own story. The dire circumstances Al-Zahrani was facing would ruin even the best of men. Clearly, however, this cave bore little threat for him.
    ‘Who are you?’ Stokes said, glaring at the notorious terrorist.
    In Al-Zahrani, Stokes couldn’t help but see his own reflection, for he too claimed to speak directly to God and proclaimed to know the path to Heaven. And just as Al-Zahrani had been tutored by Islam’s most prestigious imam, Stokes, too, had been enlightened by a prodigious mentor. For an iota, Stokes entertained the possibility that God might be pitting him and Al-Zahrani against one another.
    Lord, show me the righteous way, he thought.
    Suddenly, Al-Zahrani silenced his four underlings in a punishing tone. Stokes watched as the fearless leader pointed towards the noises and scorned the men for their faulty appraisal. ‘What you hear is not soldiers,’ he seemed to be saying. Stokes