Ultimate Fear: The Fear of the Unknown

Copyright © 2013 by Rob Peters.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 978-1-4917-0662-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-0664-0 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-0663-3 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013916556

iUniverse rev. date: 10/16/2013

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

This book is dedicated to my dearest friend Cliff,

who was a

Caring, Loving, Inspirational, Friend, Forever

CHAPTER 1

Heart-wrenching sounds came from all directions in both major cities and rural areas alike. Deafening warning signals emanated from speeding vehicles, signifying that everyone take notice. The frightening noise echoed in the atmosphere like ominous rolling thunder. What caused so many vehicles to race down the roads? Some people gawked, others looked away while covering their ears, but most felt the same cold feeling that struck their core. That was the case at least until the blares faded in the distance. Ambulances, EMS trucks, and passenger cars sped to hospital emergency rooms across the western half of the United States. Within several hours, health-care facilities of all sizes were filled beyond capacity.

Even for the fortunate patients who received immediate attention, masses were left in examining rooms or in hallways with nothing more than IV solutions flowing through their veins. Scores of medical staffers were also stricken. Keeled over from the pain, many screamed for help as they fell to the floor. What was happening? One emotion was felt by all. A sense of helplessness took the place of hope.

Hundreds, if not thousands, of other suffering children, women, and men lay trapped in crashed vehicles en route to some facility that might have helped them. They needed treatment, something for the pain. How could they be helped when their drivers too were plagued with the same symptoms?

One day earlier, five highly compensated and treasonous American female scientists received orders to poison the US water supply. Explosives were detonated, releasing deadly toxins into the five largest reservoirs in the United States. Up to nineteen trillion gallons of potable water became affected, paralyzing all the states west of the Mississippi River. The command came from the late ruler of the terrorist organization, the Sons of Allah.

The noxious agent they used was trimethylsilyl cyanide, the most dangerous of all cyanide strains. When exposed to water in high concentrations, there wasn’t any other toxin known to man that was more lethal. Once the poisons were released into the billions of gallons of flowing water, it would take up to twenty-four hours to reach its target: American faucets.

Death was likely for anyone who drank as little as sixteen to twenty-four ounces of water tainted with the deadly mixture. What may have started as stomach cramps for the first couple of minutes quickly changed to severe burning pains. When the trouble reached screaming rigor throughout the entire body, phone lines began to also sear with thousands of 911 calls.

Trimethylsilyl cyanide in such high concentration would disrupt the flow of oxygen in the body. The central nervous system and the heart could not function without oxygen. Once the body was completely deprived of the vital element for just a few minutes, paralysis would occur, followed by cardiac arrest.

These orchestrated attacks were first expected to cause death to thousands, then panic, followed by more sickness and death. Terrorizing fear once again blanketed America.

Word of the outbreak immediately hit Capitol Hill, but not before the president, the vice president, and certain senior US officials gathered in the Oval Office to pay tribute to an elite CIA operative team known as the Terrorist Elimination Unit (TEU). Three superhero honorees, who made up the TEU, were responsible for eliminating the two diabolical rulers of the Sons of Allah over the last several weeks.

The celebration never officially began for several reasons. As the attendees’ personal communication devices vibrated with alerts, the vice president shouted, Mr. President, we have a problem…

Brownouts during excessive heat waves were common. Blackouts were rare. Simultaneous total power failures caused by massive explosions in three major cities across the United States could only mean one thing—terrorist attacks.

New York City, comprised of five boroughs, was home to over eight million people. One of the most recognized places worldwide had seen its share of power outages over the decades, which brought with it looting, rioting, rapes, and murders. But the blast happening in the wake of three recent terrorist attacks within the city was enough to crush the will of even the most strong-minded.

The aftermath of September 11 was recalled when the Sons of Allah’s version of a toxic dirty bomb was detonated just weeks before in New York’s Pennsylvania Train Station, killing hundreds. Soon after, a fake EMS truck lined with C-4 explosives made its way into the outbound tube of New York City’s Holland Tunnel before blowing apart at the center of the chamber. It happened to be at the deepest section of the Hudson River. Adding to the mayhem already caused to the New York metropolitan region, the port of New York/New Jersey became another site of destruction and despair. Brothers of the Sons of Allah blew up five cargo containers at the four terminals that made up the port.

Without power, even in broad daylight, time stood still for a moment or two as the awareness of a blackout was felt. Panic ensued within minutes. Collisions occurred at major intersections; jam-packed elevators became stuck between floors; crammed subway trains came to a standstill in dark tunnels; and plate glass windows shattered, causing alarms to be set off. Innocent cries turned into screams throughout the metropolis. Pedestrians, who just moments earlier refused to make eye contact with their fellow New Yorkers, were caught in the chaos. Evildoers seemed to emerge out of the city’s crevices. How could they have surfaced so quickly?

In the minds of inner-city thugs, a free pass was bestowed upon them during a citywide power failure. They didn’t care who or what caused the shutdown, as looting was their number-one priority. The consequences never seemed to matter. Some felt they were entitled. Unfortunately, it wasn’t just New York City that was suffering.

The same pandemonium occurred in Chicago and Los Angeles. They too had lived through the wrath of the Sons of Allah in recent days. Suicide bombers blew themselves up on various means of public transportation in both cities. Los Angeles’s LAX Airport also suffered massive carnage from a dirty bomb explosion similar to the one detonated at New York’s train depot. If that wasn’t enough, California’s ports of Los Angeles and Oakland sustained destruction similar to the devastation that occurred at the New York/New Jersey port.

Approximately three years earlier, the founder of the Sons of Allah handpicked homegrown terrorist engineers. He paid them handsomely to start the process of inflicting added pain and anguish on the American people. The plan was to cause crippling blackouts in three of America’s most populated cities. Their diabolical scheme to destroy the cities’ most prominent power plants was flawlessly carried out.

The vice president continued to read the alarming messages on his BlackBerry. Mr. President, we have more than one problem…

Images of fractured pixels appeared on every oversize wall-mounted high-definition screen and computer monitor throughout the Homeland Security Satellite Surveillance Computer Room (SSCR). The distortions instantly spread to NASA’s Imaging Lab and the Pentagon’s Missile Defense Chamber. All three of these divisions’ highly classified systems were considered the heart of US security, as every corner of the globe was monitored 24/7.

Even the slightest threat of a security breach anywhere on Capitol Hill caused all systems to run on alert mode. Under such status, programs could not be altered and technicians had ten minutes to not only ascertain what caused the problem but correct it. If they failed to cure the threat, the systems automatically defaulted to red alert mode, meaning only personnel with the proper security clearance could run the operations.

Never before did more than one highly secure DC division experience simultaneous computer malfunctions. In the aftermath of the numerous terrorist attacks that occurred on US soil over the last couple of months, three sectors losing contact with the outside world meant one thing: the Sons of Allah were tightening their grip around America’s throat.

The word cyberterrorism resonated above the rest of the commotion. As the techs scrambled for a solution, the idea that something or someone was controlling these breakdowns could not be ruled out. It felt as if they were being toyed with. The distorted images and garbled audio would come and go.

Since Washington’s great minds could not ascertain the cause of the problem, they knew a quick remedy was not near at hand. The ten-minute cure period was the least of their concerns. The nation’s security was at risk. During the blotted-out moments, the country was defenseless. With one second to spare before all systems further defaulted to the red alert mode, crystal-clear images and lucid audio were the prevalent sights and sounds throughout Homeland Security, NASA, and the Pentagon. It was as if nothing ever happened.

Was it simply a mechanical glitch or a human error? Was it the Sons of Allah? Were they acting alone?

The ashen-faced president couldn’t believe what he heard from his second-in-command. He started to talk, but the Homeland secretary interrupted. There’s one more problem, Mr. President, and I’ve got to leave now…

CHAPTER 2

The famous line, The land of the free and the home of the brave, from The Star-Spangled Banner, written by Francis Scott Key, had been sung since 1814. Those words helped form the cornerstone of America’s democracy. Whenever the song played and those particular words were heard, a sense of pride and invulnerability filled the air. That was the case until that tragic day that the world remembered. It seemed so long ago, but its vividness appeared as if it happened yesterday.

The events leading up to September 11 proved the country let its guard down, as evidenced by the loss of over three thousand innocent lives. As most of the world looked on through sympathetic eyes, the pain was the same throughout the nation. For that period in time, Americans were all of one mind and one mind-set. No one was immune. Old and young experienced shock, fear, sorrow, anger, and later uncertainty. But something grew from the aftermath of those attacks. Not just out of the ashes at Ground Zero or from the other two sites, but from the hearts and souls around the country. It radiated to the heavens. As it intensified, no one would ever take it for granted again. The country’s resolve made it possible for Americans to move on.

Major strides had been made since 9/11 to strengthen the nation’s security. Most believed the country was safer—but not safe. Law enforcement agencies across the land had prided themselves on preventing any further massive terrorist attack on US soil since 2001. The United States had been a revered nation by most of the world and even feared by some—until the Sons of Allah emerged.

The most powerful nation in the world came to a grinding halt on a day that has already gone down in history. The Sons of Allah chose Memorial Day to cause the unthinkable to happen, and they had kept a stranglehold on America ever since. The terrorist organization’s sinister plots to take down the United States were years in the making.

On that infamous day in May, the group’s founder, Omar Fahee, orchestrated the assassinations of three of the top US officials. The president, the vice president, and the Speaker of the House were all killed on that day—at the same time, but at different locations.

Under the US Constitution, the president pro tempore of the Senate was the third in line of succession to the presidency after the vice president and the Speaker of the House of Representatives. Unfortunately at the time, that particular person was planted by the Sons of Allah. With one of their members acting as the leader of the free world, along with a treasonous cabinet member, the Sons of Allah’s reign of terror continued.

They promised to cause further devastation and even total annihilation if certain demands were not met: stop spreading democracy where it was not wanted, remove all troops from the Middle East, and release all prisoners from Guantanamo Bay. Never giving in to terrorist demands, US officials staged ruses in order to buy time to find and eliminate the leader of the Sons of Allah. Unfortunately, the deceptions were detected, which caused the terrorists to spread panic and fear throughout the United States.

Their versions of toxic dirty bombs were detonated at three notable sites across America, killing thousands. The bombs did not contain the traditional radioactive material but rather poisonous matter—not one but four lethal substances. At each bombing, the quantities of the toxins were intensified; by the time of the third assault, the levels equated to an astonishing two hundred times the lethal amount.

Soon after the last terrorist attack, the skin of the onion was peeled away. The newly elevated president of the United States was removed from office. He was never to be seen again, but not before turning over the duties of the highest office of the land to the then-seated vice president. Also, the betraying cabinet member was placed in an undisclosed prison in order to someday perhaps account for his betrayal.

The ingenious and heroic efforts of the TEU eventually took out the founder of the Sons of Allah at his secret Canadian compound. The head of the snake was cut off. America suffered enough both emotionally and financially. With the elimination of Omar Fahee, leaders in Washington knew the spirits of its resilient people would bounce back. It was for that reason the treachery within the administration would be kept from them.

The TEU, a three-person black operative CIA team, was headed up by Derek Chase. His leadership skills as an army ranger proved he stood out from all the rest. His gifted abilities enabled him to formulate solutions while others were still pondering the meaning of the questions. Derek’s cunning mind moved faster than a chess master. His calculated advances were usually three or four steps ahead of his opponent. Many had often felt he possessed a sixth sense. For Derek and his field operative partner and best friend, Tony Lopez, their situations never took place on a chessboard. More often than not, their predicaments were life-threatening.

Of all Derek’s attributes, it was his off-the-charts marksmanship ranking that rose to the top. Proven beyond proficient levels with all types of handguns and rifles, his dexterity with either hand stunned onlookers, both friends and foes. The majority of his kills were head shots, regardless of the distance—usually between the eyes.

When the TEU was formed, Derek wanted only two other people to be on the team: Tony Lopez and his wife, Meung Lopez. The team’s handler, CIA Director Fritz Cummings, granted his request.

Derek and Tony were inseparable during their Middle Eastern tours as army rangers. Because they spent so much time together in the service, their acquired skills only enhanced the natural abilities each possessed. When in harm’s way, they had more than each other’s back; they seemed to always anticipate each other’s next move. Quite often, Tony felt his friend knew what he was actually thinking.

Tony was a linguist. His fluency in eight languages, including Arabic and Persian, proved to be invaluable on all their ranger tours and TEU missions. He had also been declared a walking army. Holding a fifth-degree black belt in tae kwon do, his power and swiftness exceeded that of a grand master.

The third member rounding out the TEU was Meung Lopez. Calling her a genius would be an understatement. She received her doctorate in four years after entering college. Both Derek and Tony had felt Meung was truly the heartbeat of the TEU. She was more than the CIA’s and the TEU’s IT person; she was their eyes, ears, and pulse in cyberspace.

When the terrorist leader Omar Fahee was eliminated, America (and the world, for that matter) exhaled a sigh of relief. Unfortunately, it was extremely short-lived. Within a couple of days of his death, the moment that many Americans feared the most became a reality. The Sons of Allah detonated a nuclear bomb on US soil, which caused horrifying carnage, massive destruction, and nationwide panic.

It was no coincidence; the explosion’s epicenter happened to be on the New Madrid fault line in Missouri. The detonation triggered an earthquake of epic proportions that was felt over one hundred miles away in every direction. The horrendous scene in the Midwest got worse. Because of the bomb’s close proximity to the Mississippi River, catastrophic flooding ensued. What wasn’t devoured or destroyed by the quake was submerged or washed away by the steady, torrential gush of brown water.

The Sons of Allah didn’t stop there. As retribution for taking their founder’s life, forty-eight suicide bombers simultaneously blew themselves up on various means of public transportation across America. All these catastrophes happened at exactly 9:00 a.m. eastern standard time.

A new leader, Tapel Fahee, emerged, who happened to be the uncle of the former ruler. As horrific as the attacks were, it was only the first wave in a series planned by the terrorist organization. Their brutal actions quickly brought the American economy to its knees.

Amid the panic, a second terrorist organization known as AQ Offshoots, with homegrown camps across the United States, was uncovered. It was the brainchild of Tapel Fahee, but unbeknownst to him, they had been under investigation for a number of years. The FBI, Homeland Security, and the nation’s local law enforcement working in tandem squelched their planned domestic attacks. Unfortunately, that was not the case in the United Kingdom, France, and Germany.

Once again it was a member of the TEU who isolated Tapel Fahee’s location. Meung intercepted a number of phone messages he made to certain members of his following who worked at US water treatment and power plant facilities. His communications were sent from a recently built palace in Syria. It was there Derek and Tony conned their way into the compound; guised as arms dealers, they managed to take out the new ruler of the Sons of Allah.

Before their encounter, Fahee took on a new partner, Ayman al Zawahiri, who was bin Laden’s successor. He too was shot by Derek. Not being the primary target, al Zawahiri appeared as a passing image in his rifle’s scope for a split second after he shot Fahee. Was he wounded, or was he killed? Derek was uncertain.

During the time Derek and Tony were in Syria, Washington officials deciphered the Sons of Allah’s devious plots from the unintentional clues the leader sent in his threatening messages. Law enforcement agencies honed in on the targeted locations but couldn’t stop them in time. Billions of gallons of potable water in states west of the Mississippi River were poisoned, and complete blackouts occurred in New York City, Chicago, and Los Angeles.

The jovial atmosphere in the Oval Office vanished as the vice president read the alerts shown on his BlackBerry’s screen. First was the rush on hospitals with what they classified as an unknown poisonous outbreak. The group’s apprehension worsened after hearing of the complete blackouts. Most in the room knew it wasn’t a matter of if they were going to happen; it was a matter of when.

Since Derek and Tony’s return from Syria, neither CIA Director Cummings nor Meung had had a chance to tell them about the new deadly terrorist threats that hung over them. At the gathering, the three-member TEU team was incomplete. Derek and Meung were in the majestic room waiting for Tony, who was on his way.

Tony had just finished the start of an adoption process at the United States Immigration and Naturalization Service Division, and he was on his way to meet up with his team. There was one important issue that was a major missing part of the equation. He never told Meung about Mia and Antonio—the five-year-old orphan twins who won his heart when he came upon them during a recent mission with Derek in Venezuela. Earlier, Meung agreed with Tony that the adoption route would be best, especially after experiencing several miscarriages.

Tony couldn’t wait to surprise Meung, but it had to be prolonged until after their meeting with the president. He knew there wasn’t anything to worry about. Tony thought to himself, Meung’s going to melt when she sees them.

As he made his way along the streets to the White House, Tony encountered a possible lone terrorist walking toward him. Tony had no doubt about the man’s ill intentions. The Middle Eastern–looking man wore an overcoat even though the temperature had already reached ninety-five degrees. Tony’s fighting skills proved to be lethal when outnumbered by as many as six to one. The strange suspect, whose eyes were fixed on Tony, would be no match. After what he and Derek had been through, there was no time to reason; Tony planned to strike first and ask questions later.

The approaching man appeared to be talking on his cell phone, but as they got close to each other, it rang. As he mistakenly answered the call, the bomb exploded prematurely. The blast lifted Tony off his feet, causing him to land on the side of his head. As he lay unconscious in a pool of his own blood, many screaming pedestrians yelled, Someone call 911!

The ashen-faced president started to talk, but Homeland Secretary Washington interrupted. There’s one more problem, Mr. President, and I’ve got to leave now. Our computer networks have been compromised. And I mean all of them. Our techs don’t know what it is, but it’s spreading like wildfire throughout all agencies. Meung, we’re going to need your expertise, now more than ever.

Of course, Madam Secretary.

Just as several began to leave, the president’s chief of staff opened the door. No one moved. The group knew by the look on his face that he came to deliver more bad news. Meung, he said.

Instinctively, she grabbed Derek’s arm.

There’s been an accident.

The deafening silence sent chills down each person’s spine.

The thought of one thing—ultimate fear… the fear of the unknown—blanketed the room.

CHAPTER 3

President Roland Jennings, the forty-seventh commander in chief, was stunned as the vice president, the Homeland secretary, and his chief of staff sounded off the alarming messages. He was beyond exhausted, and his blood-drained look took on a dismayed appearance. Here was a man who just thirty-two days earlier was sworn in as vice president and two weeks later took over the presidency. In the span of history, which would equate to the blink of an eye, he led the country through the most tumultuous and violent attacks on US soil since September 11.

Because he had been a leader in the Senate before taking office, both sides of the aisle respected his views. In such a short period of time, his entire administration held him in high regard. He rarely let his emotions shine through in front of others, and now was not the time to waver. At least that’s what he told himself. President Jennings knew his staff were stretched beyond their limits, but what was he to do? What could he do? The United States was at war with the Sons of Allah, who seemed to be everywhere but nowhere in particular.

The president couldn’t help but recall a few troubled moments while alone in the Oval Office, and he slipped several times into an unsettled and disconcerting state of mind. There was a particular object in the room that captured his attention. The shiny object caught his gaze and wouldn’t let go each time the Sons of Allah tightened their grip on the country. The item was Abraham Lincoln’s pistol, which lay on the same table since his assassination. His chief of staff, Ron Soriano, caught him mesmerized by it one day, and since then the president never glanced at it again. Whether it was the fact that he learned it couldn’t be loaded or some inner strength guided him out of his bewilderment was yet to be determined. But as he stood among the group in the Oval Office, the president couldn’t shake what he was feeling—a feeling of powerlessness.

A second after his chief of staff alerted Meung there was an accident, she yelled while still clutching Derek’s arm, Where’s Tony? What happened to him?

Soriano replied, It appears there was a guy who blew himself up as Tony was on his way over here. Tony was near him. I don’t have the details.

Meung cried out, Where is he?

He was taken to Washington Memorial Hospital. He was unconscious when the paramedics arrived. With that, she and Derek bolted out of the room. Normally, out of respect in the presence of the president and vice president, they would have asked permission to leave, but no one would question their actions.

Over the last few weeks Derek and Tony, against seemingly insurmountable odds, eliminated the last two leaders of the Sons of Allah, who were hiding out on different continents. All eyes were now on Meung. Days earlier, she suffered yet another trauma—one more miscarriage. Those close to her were aware of her fragile state.

Everyone still standing in the Oval Office knew America needed the TEU—all three of them. As the group started muttering and moving slowly about, they each gave the president a bewildering stare. The president’s chief of staff held up his hand and said, Mr. President… The small group once again stopped in their tracks as they watched Soriano cupping the Bluetooth attached to his ear. We just received word there’s been simultaneous terrorist attacks in the United Kingdom and Germany. Wait… and France, as well.

The president quickly responded in a deliberate tone, Let’s all meet in the war room later today. Ron will give you a time. You have much to do, and I need to check on a few things first. The solemn bunch acknowledged the president’s statement while making their way out of the regal room. Many glanced into the war room, which adjoined his office, and shook their heads as they walked past. What next? was the thought on everyone’s minds.

When the door closed, President Jennings walked over to his desk and braced himself. With his palms lying flat on the polished solid oak top, he closed his eyes tight, causing his brow to pucker. Deep fissures creased the forehead of the leader of the free world. He raised his head ever so slowly and gazed out the room’s huge picturesque bay window. Something came over him. That something was a conscious sensation he hadn’t felt for quite some time.

Troubled faces were frozen at every workstation. Each time the screens went blank or became distorted, hearts raced and blood pressures rose. Seconds felt like hours. Everyone knew the country was in a defenseless state. The paramount nervous feeling of being played by a puppeteer spread throughout the SSCR.

Homeland’s SSCR room was vast. Every eight hours, seventy-four highly trained tech specialists occupied the three-thousand-square-foot rectangle room. The dedicated staffers monitored the United States and most of the world 24/7 365 days a year. On each of the four walls, above all the high-definition screens, were five words the workers couldn’t help but notice every day. It was the sole line in their mission statement: We are not safe enough.

Who the fuck is doing this to us? It’s happening again. Paul, time it. Time it. Frantic words came from the division head, Elliot Masters.

What do you mean, ‘time it’? The young tech wasn’t sure what Masters meant.

Ten, eleven, twelve… holy shit. Next time we are forced off-line—or whatever we start calling this bullshit—time the mishap with me. If I’m correct, it is one second longer after each instance. Man, I hope I’m wrong.

Approaching Masters’s station was Homeland Secretary Marjorie Washington. She slowed