Prologue
PrologueSheppard ran through the airport terminal. The flight was about to board and he was still seven gates away. His breaths heaved, and his heart pounded in his chest as a film of sweat on his brow thickened. He knew he had to make it to the flight at all costs. The lives of millions depended on it. The pounding of his dress shoes on the linoleum floor echoed through his body as he grew steadily closer. Two gates to go. “I’m so close” he said to himself.
Panic struck him as the loudspeaker announced, “Now boarding flight QR-0756 to Doha at Gate E-12.”
Nearly out of breath, he pushed harder. In the distance, a line of dreary passengers shuffled forward to board the plane. Twenty yards short of the line he halted, planted his left foot forward, took a deep breath, drew his weapon and yelled as loud as his burning lungs would allow. “FBI! Don’t move, Samir!”
People all around him screamed and dove to the ground. All except for Samir and the two TSA officers who were trying desperately to catch up. With his breath coming back to him, Sheppard commanded, “Keep your hands where I can see them, step out of line, and walk backward toward me.”
Samir stepped out of line with his hands hanging loosely beside him just as the TSA officers reached either side of Sheppard. Both officers drew their guns, the one to the left aiming his weapon at Samir to match Sheppard's aim, the one to the right aiming his gun directly at Sheppard.
“Put your weapon on the ground, slide it over to me, and lie on the ground with your hands behind your back!” the second TSA officer ordered.
“My name is Special Agent Mitchell Sheppard of the FBI. This man is a known terrorist and I am taking him into custody.” Sheppard said, his eyes never leaving his target.
The TSA officer to his right breathed in to speak, but before he could, Samir plunged his hand into his right coat pocket, quickly pulled it out, and spun to his left. Sheppard yelled, “Stop!” to no avail. The TSA officer on Sheppard’s left fired two rounds, hitting Samir directly in the chest. The momentum of the turn coupled with the impact of the bullets caused Samir to release his grip. That was when Sheppard saw it–the glass vial Samir was holding just moments earlier now arced through the air. He was too far away to possibly catch it, and he watched helplessly as the vial hit the ground, shattering on impact.
Sheppard stood in almost stunned disbelief. “My God,” he whispered. He holstered his weapon, turned right, and moved toward the TSA officer while retrieving his badge. He grabbed the officer’s dirty lapel, pulled him close enough to smell his morning cigarette, and quietly said, “Lock down the airport and contact the CDC. Now!”
