The Howl of the Whisperers

By PATRICIA E. PETERSON

This fictional novel parallels a story from World War II, a saga based on a band of Navajo Marines called the True Whisperers. In this present era there is a small band of select women and men called ATA agents-Whisperers, hired by the President of the United States. These select agents come from different international organizations, each bringing unique skills to decipher anything within the global cyber network. What they uncover are encrypted plans by a new Al Qaeda terror group founded by their leader, Abu Bakr. Under the Presidents command, their charge is to reveal the heinous plot of terror directed against the USA by Abu Bakr. For years this Al Qaeda group has secretly developed home grown terrorist cells within the USA working toward their final goal-an unprecedented attack within our contiguous borders using a lethal toxin. As leads and clues unfold in different parts of the world, these agents follow the cyber footprints to reveal the target sights. Each ATA agent brings individual personal reasons for taking this job that adds intrigue to pique the readers interest to unravel how their lives are caught up in this plot. It was fortuitous reality that an unparalleled event happened May 2, 2011 to mirror the actions and machinations within this fictional sagas plot filled with twists and turns. As with historys True Whisperers the American people will never hear about the heroic heights these few men and women reach to preserve our Freedoms. The Howl of the Whisperers...is silence.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Oct 4, 2011
• ISBN: 9781463452667

PATRICIA E. PETERSON

Patricia E. Peterson just completed another creative contemporary thriller novel to her published works of literature, The Howl of the Whisperers. This story parallels a World War II saga based on a true story about Navajo Marines called True Whisperers. Under the direct command of the President, a special executive edict allows the President to select a small group of men and women whose mission is to thwart a terror attack of unprecedented magnitude that pales Al Qaeda’s attack on 9/11/2001. As the leads and clues unfold in different parts of the world, these agents track the cyber footprints to uncover the targets within our country. The band known as ATA agents, each bring individual personal motivations for accepting this job adding curious intrigue for readers to unravel how their intimate lives are caught up in this heinous plot. As history kept secret the story of the True Whisperers courageous acts, again the American people will never hear about the heroic heights these few men and women reach to preserve American lives and their Freedoms. The Howl of the Whisperers...is silence. Other books written by the author and published are The Chatelaine Connection and The Methuselah Conspiracy.

Book preview

GHOSTS

CHAPTER ONE

BETHESDA, MARYLAND…

IN THE HEART OF DOWNTOWN Bethesda a dissonantly wailing siren signaled throngs of traffic to clear a path for the speeding ambulance. The night’s powerful blustery storm cleansed away stagnant night smells cooling the hot concrete jungle, heralding the way for patches of dawn’s blue sky. Morning’s yellow light sketched lengthy shadows among the maze of urban high-rise structures. Across the bay remnants of pre-dawn rains morphed clouds into foggy mists creating double rainbows.

Sweet Jesus, this ain’t no man who just died. Someone dug up a corpse and dumped it. The young EMT’s look of horror conveyed incredulous revulsion at the sight of the dissolving body. Inside the speeding van the hot stench of death sickened the living.

Dr. Bradley heard the high-pitched wail suddenly fade, tires screeched to a halt under the portal at St. James’ Emergency Trauma center.

Follow me and speak to no one, leading the medics down a hall past apathetic patients on stretchers into trauma room F, locking both inner and outer doors. Donning full contamination garb he instructed the two men, leave the body on the gurney.

Doc, I ain’t never seen anythin’ like this in all my twenty years on this job, and I hope to God I never see the likes again! This thing’s so badly decomposed and missin’ parts, how could a body be layin’ around for so long and not be noticed? The older medic anxiously turned away to hide his disgust, the younger one heaved his dinner into the corner sink.

That bad? Carter thought.

You both remain in this room until I’ve completed my examination. Does the victim have a name?

Nah, he’s John or Jane Doe. Nothin’ was with it, you’ll see, there’s nothin’ to identify either.

Hell, no clothes. Can’t even tell if he’s a black or white–man or woman, the younger tech interjected.

That’s exactly as we found it, Doc. Completely nude–or denuded, gesturing toward the body.

Central Dispatch assigned us to investigate an anonymous call sayin’ there was a body behind an empty warehouse in the green zone down by the river. We drove around for ten minutes before we found him behind number ten. More’s the smell told us where to look, the stink was so disgustin’ it was hard to ignore. Heaps of papers covered him layin’ about fifty feet from the river. The papers we left-him we took.

Both medics huddled in the farthest corner away from the reek of the rotting corpse, their faces covered with towels to filter out the stench. The room’s special ventilation system unable to remove the fetor fast enough.

Doc, you could tell he ain’t been layin’ there long by the trash-yesterday’s newspapers coverin’ him. They got soaked from last night’s rains, but some dried stuck to the body.

Dr. Bradley listened to the two men relive their story. Carefully lifting a single layer of soiled paper, gasping at a natural reaction to a grisly scene, immediately perceiving the post mortem changes were not those characteristically seen a few hours after death. Rain and temperature are factors in putrefaction, but this body is chemically digested. This isn’t normal decomposition. The cause of this decay is deadly, most likely occurring over several hours, not days.

Doc, is this just a single case or will there be more? The Medic asked.

Whoever this poor chap was it’s hard to say when he died. These changes in tissue distort a time of death, a liver temp isn’t possible. Our unseasonably warm weather could accelerate decomposition, but nothing like this.

The size and shape of the pelvis is a man, as well as the head shape. We won’t know when or how he died until we do a complete autopsy with tissue and toxicology studies. This poor chap died a most horrifying way. Bradley kept the EMTs focused.

Seeing death, natural or homicidal, in different stages of decomposition was nothing new to the forensic pathologist and research scientist, but this specimen was altogether different in sight and touch. Initially he doubled-gloved for the examination, but triple-gloved to handle the gelatinous body tissue, lingering within the eyes. Here, he syringed material from the vitreous eye fluid into sterile tubes knowing pathogens generate to liquid humors, carefully laying the samples inside a tightly sealed bag. Everything else went in the contaminated bucket.

I need to make a call before I go any further with my examination. Carter noticed the soiled contaminated areas on the medics uniforms.

Both of you strip off all your clothes, including shoes and all personal items-wallets, watches, rings and any jewelry, pens–keep nothing. Place your items into the yellow and black bag; your portable electronic equipment goes in the clear orange bag. Bradley handed each a small kit.

Wipe yourselves thoroughly with the antiseptic powder in the kit, be generous starting with your hair. He emphasized caution, do not use or touch water to clean off contaminated areas on your skin! After you’ve stripped and powdered down with this medicinal talc, dress in the clothes inside these bins. He passed a sealed plastic container to each man.

Will we get our personal things back, Doc? Carter gave half a half-hearted nod.

Wait here.

What do y’all think it is, doc? Is it so bad that we can’t keep anythin’? The older man asked with a tenor of fear.

Could that happen to us? Can we catch it? Will something like that kill us-like whateve’ killed him? The young medic visibly afraid.

Doc, we only used gloves and disposable gowns at the scene. We didn’t suit up for high level contaminant ‘cause we had no idea the body was so contagious! Material seeped through our gowns.

I’m taking all these safety precautions because we don’t know what killed him-and for your protection. Most importantly, everything you’ve seen at the river sight where you found him, as well as what’s happened in this room, is now confidential classified information under the auspices of the Federal Government. That means, you can’t discuss this with anyone until you’re told otherwise by an official government person. Understood? Carter waited for a nod from the two men, now clearly too scared to ask why. A beeper sounded and the older technician read the message.

Central dispatch is requestin’ a status report ‘bout our green zone run and our ‘vailability.

You can wait on that. I’ll have triage call and update your superior. Just follow my instructions. Out of hearing distance inside the adjoining ante room, Carter dialed a number, observing the men carry out his instructions.

Winslow, its Carter Bradley, sorry to wake you. I’m calling from St. James’s Emergency Department-don’t rush to judgment, it’s not about me. I agreed to cover triage for a couple of hours for a friend. Bradley paused.

What’s happened, Carter?

I was monitoring emergency calls when a transport team in the green zone reported picking up a dead body near the river, describing a corpse in an unusual state of decomposition. I didn’t like what I heard and instructed the team to transport the body here. Winslow, you need to get down here to see this. Like now! I think we’ve got one hell of a crisis on our hands that could be connected to NIH. The Bio-division? Winslow Hempstone knew exactly what Carter Bradley’s veiled message meant.

Do nothing until I get there. Contain everyone and everything that came in contact with the body. Control contamination!

It’s done."

Have you contacted anyone outside?

Not yet. I’ve been able to double talk a credible story to keep the full trauma team out of this with the ‘ruse of a possible superbug strain, but ID is clamoring to get inside to investigate. I’ll wait until you get here to make it a NIH investigation.

Don’t let them near the body until I get there.

Winslow, send a NIH team down to the green zone to warehouse ten, locate and seal off the area behind it down to the river for a level five contamination. Everything goes into containers. That includes top soil too. Suspect contamination from the dirt to every piece of possible bush, rubbish or debris, all papers and magazines-especially the newspapers! It may already be too late. If it’s what I think it is, we could all be dead men, too.

Jesus Christ, I pray I’m wrong.

CHAPTER TWO

ONE YEAR EARLIER…KWANGSI PROVIDENCE, CHINA…

INSIDE THE CONFINED UNDERGROUND RECTILINEAR passageways whiffs of cooler air diluted the putrid stench leaching from ancient exposed tombs. Outside, winds whipped scorched desert sands into stinging dust devils dancing across the desolate landscape. Heat from a blistering sun distorted the parched barren terrain into quivering myoptic scenes; echoes of metal hitting rock reverberated through the subterranean corridors. Inside dank tombs, workers painstakingly labored dressed in contamination suits, oxygen packs and breathing gear.

Be careful with that sarcophagus! It must not be damaged. Winslow Hempstone yelled through his oxygen mask to the workers.

When the casket is freed from its bed, secure it tightly before placing it on the dolly. It must not be damaged. Marisol’s commands annoyed Inspector Fung Cho.

Dr. Hempstone and Dr. Pedrano, you forget I’m in charge here. Interjected an Asian accent, you’re forbidden to open anything until I apply the official seal. Remember, everything from this crypt is the property of China, pointing to the coffin and it contents. The Chinese official took pleasure asserting his authority at every opportunity.

It’s a good thing he can’t read my thoughts, Winslow muttered to Marisol, or we’d have been long gone from here. Marisol’s fatigue overcame caution.

Inspector Fung Cho, we know the routine well. If we’re to preserve the integrity of the sarcophagus and contents, its imperative we get it to our lab immediately-every second counts. Once in the lab you can apply the state’s seal. There’s nothing worse than this putrid moist air destroying the crypt’s exposed antique wood–and its contents. Minutes are critical. Nothing else matters.

Fung Cho’s demeanor bristled at her impatient rebuke–more that it came from a woman, restraining his seething anger with a glare. Everyone felt new tensions. Once the words flew out of her mouth, she regretted it, but long hours of work, little sleep, heat exhaustion, and constant rebukes took their toll.

I’m fully aware we’re walking the thin line of cordiality and protocol, and we mustn’t give the Chinese government another reason to shut down the excavation, but bloody hell Winslow, we’re not going to complete our work if Cho has his way! Winslow motioned to Marisol to chill out.

I know I was out of line. Sixty days to complete this excavation job is impractical, we both knew it was impossible to do a thorough job from the very beginning.

Marisol, I agree, but we’ve got to let them think they’re in control. I’ve had to do this many times to get what I really want. Let me handle Cho and you start scanning the coffin. Everything was taking too long and time was running out with no evidence of what he came to find.

I’ll go that extra mile to get what I came for. Eat a pound of this dirt and bow to that bloody son-of-a bitch to find what I’m certain is here. This time they won’t shut down the site before I’ve found it. The look in Winslow’s eyes conveyed his vow to find the artifact. Inside the temperature controlled plastic-walled lab Marisol watched the monitor screen scan the sarcophagus. The equipment isn’t penetrating the coffin.

That’s because we have a wooden coffin with some kind of metal inside the sarcophagus. The technician explained.

What’s so precious–or deadly–it needed a double coffin? Winslow whispered under his breath knowing such precautions meant only one thing, this is unusual for conventional burials, feeling a tiny bit elated. Winslow’s true motives for this mission were his secret alone. History’s scuttlebutt painted a picture of an earlier archeological project that unearthed an unknown contagion killing all the workers. That excavation was immediately shut down and all records lost…until now.

Marisol took a tiny sliver of wood from the outside lid to carbon date it. Once the wooden lid was pried open it revealed a metal coffin inside completely sealed. Winslow and Marisol donned contamination garb including a special aerating apparatus before they pried open the inner metal lid.

We can fluoroscope the corpse now. Marisol slowly moved the machine down the table observing body parts on the monitor screen, selecting copies to print.

Some organs are missing, like Egyptian burials replaced by linen rolls inside the cavity to support the skeleton. It’s a male mummy. She pointed out. Winslow took great interest in images in two particular printed copies.

What’s your opinion of these, Marisol? She leaned in closely to study them.

They’re outside the cavity, possibly the organs like early Egyptian burials.

Fung Cho, have you seen these kinds of connubic jars before? Winslow asked. The inspector took his time viewing the images.

Yes. In ancient Chinese royal crypts the finest porcelain receptacles, sometimes gold, were buried with the body to hold precious gifts that went with the body to the next world. These jars seen here were used in lower class burials.

Marisol, re-scan all the jars from different angles, I don’t want to miss anything. What’s your opinion on the jar’s contents?

They may hold precious artifacts, significant spices or liquids.

The only way we’ll know is to open one of the jars…the one containing several small vials. Winslow remarked pointing to one jar.

Cho won’t let you. She emphasized with a cautious no. Winslow signed to Marisol to keep her thoughts to herself.

What do you see in the films, Dr. Hempstone? Fung Cho called out.

He chose his answers carefully. There’s a well preserved mummy inside the metal sarcophagus with several connubic jars placed around the body, pointing out each container. These images don’t tell us anything about the contents of the jars. We’ll need to re-scan the corpse and those jars outside the coffin.

There’s no time for more scanning. Fung Cho ordered.

Inspector, stopping now will lose precious data, and I will complete my examination on time. After I complete the re-examination, you can place the official seal. Hempstone walked away to avoid further confrontation.

Speaking softly, Marisol, re-scan with particular interest the two jars with liquids, but don’t appear overly interested. See if the glyphs on the cover describe the contents of the jars.

It’ll take my whole night, but what else do I have to do but sleep.

Nightfall occasionally brought relief from the hot humid day temperatures. If nature cooperated, a cool wind would blow inland from the distant ocean bringing some content of cooling moisture. If not, the down-sloping winds from the mountain peaks would blow dry hot air pushing the night temperatures higher. Sleep came. It was short as the fire-orange sun peeked over the horizon found Marisol slumped over her desk. Noise roused her awake.

Oh God, I hope you appreciate my dedication, Winslow.

Here drink. He handed her a bottle of water.

I finished most of the translation on the wooden lid. There’s one symbol I’ve never seen before, reading from her coded notes, the other characters are from a third century dialect that tells a story. I’ll research the few new symbols later.

Show me that single symbol. Marisol pointed it out.

I’m certain that symbol represents a name of the mummy or the name of a plague that fell upon the community…the body could be the village healer. Checking to see Cho’s whereabouts she read, "the symbol is similar to the Mandarin number ㄓ - five. The number five has a distinct meaning for the Chinese.

I alway said you are the best geo-archeologist for this job. I think you’re opinions are right on point. Winslow gave her a hug.

Is this why you came here, Winslow?

He whispered, I really need to see what’s inside those jars without any prying eyes.

Winslow, the only way you’ll discover the contents of those jars is to open one of them. You’ll never get away with it! It became clear to Marisol his reason for this expedition, he’s keeping his true agenda from me. Those jars are the real motive he wanted me in Lingshan with him.

My money is on the jar containing the five small tubes, Winslow muttered.

Just how will you discover the contents, Winslow?

CHAPTER THREE

VERY, VERY CAREFULLY.

Feeling euphoric at his discovery, this sarcophagus holds the secret of that earlier failure, but I can’t reveal my true motive, it would make her vulnerable, it’s for her safety.

Marisol, you need to trust me because I need your help to complete this mission. If the Chinese learn we discovered the real cause for that earlier dig failure, they’ll shut us down and the work we’ve done now will be lost forever. She knew where this was going.

We have a less than two days to complete our work before the site is permanently sealed. It’s futile to ask for an extension of time, more importantly, it would raise suspicions. Let them label the crates for the trip to Peking’s Museum of Artifacts. Tonight we’ll get some sleep knowing we’re going home. Marisol felt troubled not knowing his final plan.

The camp asleep, alone Winslow returned to one crate marked with the five connubic jars. Gingerly picking out the one jar containing the cylindrical tubes, he painstakingly preserved the Chinese Seal and placed it back on an identical replacement jar he rigged. No official would detect the fractured seal until the Museum did an inventory.

At the airport Fung Cho deferred searching Marisol and Winslow as a sign of respect, but personally escorted them to board the plane, watching their every move until the door slammed shut. For Winslow the flight from Peking to Paris was the easier part of the trip.

Have you figured out how to get that jar through French customs, not to mention stateside? Marisol asked.

Not to worry. I’ve successfully smuggled materials out of Russia, no reason why that plan won’t work again. When we land we’ll split up, you check through a different custom official. When someone realizes our passports should be stamped consecutively it’ll be too late. We’ll be stateside.

I’m glad you don’t need my help. I’d be a dead give-a-way to any smart official I was hiding something. Marisol winked and laughed. Already she was feeling light-spirited knowing she was going home.

You need to see this Winslow, this website from the Archeology Museum in Cairo translates those symbols on our sarcophagus, but there’s no translation for that one image on the metal lid. Winslow read further.

The other characters corroborate the mummy was a healer of sorts, and the jars in the coffin contain vital organs, an ancient burial custom.

Here’s the hypothesis for your true mission. Marisol remarked.

‘Contemporary archeologists postulate the connubic jars may contain deadly organisms that wiped out complete villages in early centuries. New symbols are assigned for each new epidemic.’ Maybe, that’s what happened to our mummy. Winslow, your jar should not be opened except in the most controlled laboratory situation, she emphasized.

That’s the reason I’m taking this risk and not you. NIH has the latest up-to-date equipment to study the contents in the best controlled laboratory. If there’s a contagious organism in one of those tubes, it’s important we learn what it is and how it kills before it kills again. Today our world is too small…no place on our planet is safe from disease. If an unknown aerobe in one of these vials went rogue as history suggests, you can bet it’ll happen again. She understood his deep concern.

You have all the answers Winslow, I don’t know why I second-guess you. He smiled at her self recriminations.

Reagan Airport was mobbed. I’m leaving you here for another assignment, but I’m glad I had this time off to work with you on this dig. When you do find out what’s in those tubes, let me know? I’ll send you my final summary from my coded notes with duplicates to the National Archeological Artifact Department…don’t worry, there’ll be no mention about your special jar, she coyly whispered.

You’re the best, Marisol, which is why I wanted you on this assignment. Without you I could never have completed the mission. I promise I’ll share everything I learn when my experiments on the ‘jar’ are completed. Stay safe-and give your guy a hello from me.

He gave her one last hug and watched her enter the door marked Security Personnel Only. Only then did he head out for his next destination.

Inside the security area Marisol sent an email message, J-I’m home.

CHAPTER FOUR

NIH BETHESDA, MARYLAND…MONTHS LATER

HIS FINAL DIRECTIVE CAME IN a simple code. Ramadan is over…propose marriage.

The corridor was unfamiliarly silent. Furtively scanning the hall for the unexpected, he slid his identification card into the slot and heard the lock retract; quickly stepping inside, his presence triggered the automated lights. In one quick glance he surveyed the NIH central laboratory expanse.

Am I alone? Intimately familiar with every area in this wing, he methodically checked each office in the L wing making certain no one was working overtime. Finding them all locked, he ran down the opposite passageway to the isolation multiplex stopping outside one storage vault.

Four years of hard work just for tonight. Nadir Singh didn’t need a supervisor to grant clearance to enter the chambers to Complex ECO-1100, the ID codes were burned in his memory.

* * *

Nadir Singh’s planned objective was vault ECO-1100, where the most contagious pathogens were stored. His years of patience paid off when he discovered a specific biological pathogen was stored there, passing the information to his senior contact for the Prophet, Abu Bakr.

Before tonight’s incursion, Nadir secretly encrypted a viral program into NIH’s security program to override the master security program affecting only the ECO-1100 complex. His recursive spider virus would automatically and selectively override a critical security component to ECO-1100 for exactly twenty minutes. There would be no history of the lost twenty minutes on the hard drive. At 04:30 his spider program will automatically erase any visible footprints, except in the Main Frame Time Continuum a time gap remained. If a breach in the Security Program or Time history was detected, it would appear as a glitch on the hard drive that automatically corrected itself.

* * *

Most timely, his supervisor approved him to work the controls inside the CORE chamber without supervision. Complete trust. Memorizing all security ID modes and the password for today, his Prophet’s mission was virtual reality tonight. For months Nadir rehearsed to perfect his plan just for this moment.

Chet’s distinct voice will be the trickiest part, unable to test this step in the system. Using a special pair of gloves with Chet’s palm and finger prints, he pressed the palms onto the screen for vertical and horizontal scanning, then dialing a series of letters and numbers on the key pad, he inserted a special lens for a retinal laser scan. Lastly he placed the audio device to within a couple of centimeters from the speaker and played Chet’s voice with the exact intonation and inflections of the PASSWORD over the usual normal background noise. Nadir held his breadth.

CORINTHIAN, praying to Allah he would pass the last step. There would be no evidence he entered the system after Chet’s log-in to ECO-1100 on this date.

The screen flashed ENTER. Ten seconds to enter the air-lock before the system re-locked, he moved stealthily inside. Systems immediately detected his presence making adjustments in the air-lock, disseminating the familiar antiseptic into the chamber. Delicate temperature sensors reacted to his body heat adjusting the air flow to maintain a constant temperature and negative pressure system. A voice spoke, CLEAR.

Now inside the core work-chamber his movements betrayed his familiar ease with his task. Donning the special contamination suit connected to a closed oxygen-system pack, his body completely enclosed inside a mobile synthetic vacuum bubble he activated the automated robot system inside the CORE storage.

"I should get paid much more for taking all these chances. I’m going to tell Abd al Matin my reward is not enough if he wants full delivery of the merchandise. If he thinks I have another interested buyer for a portion of it, he’ll see no other choice but to pay more. It’s nothing more than I deserve." Nadir knew his demand could backfire, but felt Abu Bakr needed him for his ultimate plan

I hold the power. Quickly, he turned his attention back to his job.

The first lock opened a large door accessing the inner vault holding canisters of the most toxic pathogenic materials known on the planet. Nadir maneuvered the robot, Tony to one particular shelf in the vault where no human was ever allowed direct access inside the inner CORE vault.

Tony, this is your finest moment.

Dialing codes, Tony unlocked and raised the door, then directing the robot to a specific shelf housing a single metal canister box. Grasping the canister, it was placed onto an inner slide-through drawer. Nadir pulled the drawer from inside the CORE, delicately transferring the canister into a portable metal container securely locking it before he placed an identical canister back on the exchange tray, sliding it back for Tony to replace the substitute canister onto the empty shelf space.

It is done, he sighed. Reversing each step, he exited the chamber.

No footprints. Outside the airlock he let out a long sigh and wiped the sweat from his face.

I could’ve done this in my sleep. Nadir gave one