Only a few stars shone in the soft, deep darkness of winter night in Madrid, reflecting coolly in the glass at the Northwestern Terminal.  Ahmed nearly ran to the nearest bank of pay phones.  He dialed a number in Berlin where a complicated hack transferred the call three times before it rang.

"Yes?"

"We have a problem.  The lab was compromised.  An alarm went off and no page was submitted to cancel it."

There was a long silence.  Ahmed calculated how he could possibly get far enough away, the other calculated what damage the compromise of the lab could cause to the larger plan.

Finally, he broke the silence.

"Well, that is too bad for your brother, Ahmed.  Did you execute the plan in the US before you left?  If so, we have likely accomplished our goal."

Ahmed closed his eyes, thought about his cousin.  They had grown up together in Jerusalem, they had become men in Tel Aviv and they had left Israel together.  This was bad.  One more thing that would fuel his hate, drive him on ...

"Yes, the plan was completed.  I am ready to come home.  It is time for the next step."

"Allah is great.  See you soon."

The connection was broken.  Ahmed thought of calling the lab, thought to inquire about Yussuf ... but he turned, smoothed his Armani suit and then went to the departure gate for his connecting flight.

---------------------

6:00 pm in Washington, 2:00 am in Saudi Arabia. Leo McGarry was sitting at his desk, working on the language for the continued smoothing of ruffled Arab feathers that didn't want the US to continue pressuring Iran and keeping them under the state of emergency edict.  Sam or Toby could have done this; but for once Leo felt that perhaps he was the better man to handle it, particularly in light of Toby's emotional attachment to the issue.

All his lights were off, yet an eerie glow from the television monitors and his LCD flatscreen monitor illuminated his work area.  All was quiet in the outside world and the noise from the rest of the White House had started to fade ... snow warning for tonight and tomorrow, staff was heading home.

Margaret popped her head in his door.  "Leo, I'm leaving ... Donna is giving me a ride. They're expecting a lot of snow and Donna doesn't feel well and wants to leave now.  I printed out your schedule for tomorrow, it's on my desk.  Oh and this arrived at the reception.  They weren't really sure what to do with it since it was addressed to the President.  They did scan it."  Margaret gave a quirky smile. "Don't stay too late!"

"Oh, go away," Leo groused!

Margaret deposited the envelope on the edge of his desk and walked out.  Leo went back to his notepad, but felt distracted.  He got up and retrieved his schedule from Margaret's office.  As he walked back into his office, he saw the envelope.  Picking it up while scanning tomorrow's fun and games, he found a CD-ROM disc inside.  Puzzled, he walked to his computer.

"Mr. President, my name is not of importance.  My cause is.  In the name of Allah, we have infected everyone at the White House with a deadly virus ..."

The QuickTime movie continued on, explaining that the White House staff had all been infected with a virus that would manifest itself as a flu-like illness, but would ultimately develop into a fatal, non-reversible cancer.  There was in their possession an antidote that would be provided if the US Government would meet their demands:  dismantle all military bases within all Muslim countries throughout the world; close all American embassies through the Muslim world; cease active support of Israel -- financial, military, political; back down from all sanctions against Muslim nations; and publicly support the formation of Palestine within the original borders of that nation in NATO.

"Realizing that not all of these goals can be met within the primary timeframe, our good faith demand is the departure of all embassy staff from all Muslim nations within two days.  The rest must be announced immediately to the world press.  Should the US not comply with these directives, not only would the White House be decimated, but a great number of "sleeper agents" throughout the country will commence with the infection of all major urban centers.

Mr. President, do not think that we are making idle threats.  Your staff will start getting sick today and tomorrow.  You will not be able to create the antidote fast enough to save them.  You will most certainly not be able to manufacture enough of it quickly enough to prevent genocide."

The final threat stated that the story of all this would be released to the press in three days and the first of the sleepers would take action in four days should the demands not be met.  They had best move quickly if they wished to avoid mass hysteria associated with release to the press.

Leo stared at his monitor after the message ended.  Thoughtful to the last, the perpetrators of this threat had provided a list of the demands and deadlines which now was opened up.

Reaching for the phone, Leo made a short list of what he needed to do:  get the situation room up and running, get someone to check on all staffers and call them back into the office to contain any further spread of the virus if this were not some sort of elaborate hoax, get the Surgeon General and the CDC ... notify the President.  He needed more data before doing the last one. Were people at the White House getting sick.?  What had Margaret said about Donna?

---------------------

In the clearing in Jeddah, the small group loaded into the helicopter, Jax as pilot, Jerry as co-pilot, Mike and Danny in the back.  Danny's bruised tailbone sufficiently painful that he opted to make the helicopter trip on his stomach on the floor of the chopper.  This consequently made it difficult to hold pressure on the gauze squares that were stopping the bleeding from the laceration above his eye--essentially he was laying face down, face in hands.

Mike passed around foam earplugs to all and cold cream and towels for removing grease paint to Jerry and Danny.  Next he cleared out a munitions crate, added some blankets and gently placed Danny's small goat within it.  It wasn't perfect, but it was as good as he could manage on short notice.  Giving the tiny creature a pat on the head, he considered what to do next ... nurse, doctor or veterinarian?

Reaching for the first-aid kit, Mike found a vial of dark yellow liquid.  Mike was talking to himself in Arabic, working out the dose.  He gave the goat the injection into the muscle beside his spine.  He nodded to Jax that it was safe to take off, then he looked at Danny, "I don't think he's been in chopper before, so that will settle his nerves.  Wouldn't want him to damage that leg."   He handed Danny a headset.

Once they were safely on their way, "You know Danny, I've always found that women prefer jewelry, exotic foreign desserts containing chocolate, and expensive items of clothing that I can later remove.  I'm not so sure your lady will appreciate your choice of gift."   Jerry gestured toward the goat.

As uncomfortable as Danny was, he was beginning to realize they'd all made it to the getaway car alive.  Jerry's comment made him think of CJ for a moment; and no, a goat was probably not what she'd always wanted a man to give her as a gesture of affection...but the fish she didn't know she wanted had worked out well enough.  

Mike handed Danny a bottle of water.  It was probably the residual adrenaline that made Danny laugh through the pain at the notion that Mike, explosive expert, had just transitioned seamlessly to the role of flight attendant.  Or, head veterinarian.  He laughed into his hands at that thought, or maybe it was just the relief.

It was Jax that responded to Jerry, "Jerry, why did you bring that goat with you? You were at the veterinary lab at the center of the Rift Valley Fever outbreak."

Not until that moment, had Jerry or Danny considered that.  Jerry opened his mouth to respond.  It was fortunate that Jax kept going because Jerry had no answer to his brother's concern.

"Now I realize they've repaired some damage to its leg and they would have destroyed it if it tested as infected, but why take the risk?  That goat has nothing do with the cancer virus does it?"

"No, Danny wanted to bring it in case the barn burned from the explosion." 

Jax had come to expect his brother to wrinkle just about every plan. "Okay, we'll just have to have it tested when we get back...and hope we haven't been infected."

Remembering the ice chest in the back of the plane, Mike asked "Jerry, do we need the ice to keep any of the samples cold?" 

"No mate, Al-Benzat's rude interruption means all we have is what we hope is the antisense.  It's fine at this temperature."

The ice packs were getting a bit soft, but they'd work for this purpose. "Mr. Concannon, if you'll lower your pants, we can ice your ....  It will feel much better."

One-handed to maintain pressure on his eye, Danny lowered his pants to reveal a large, rapidly forming purple bruise at the base of his spine. "Holy buckets, that's cold."  He winced--it felt worse for a minute or so then, indeed, it was a lot better.

"Okay, Jerry you're next." Mike grabbed the first aid kit as Jerry abandoned the co-pilot seat for the back of the helicopter.

Jerry removed his vest and his shirt and slid his pants slightly down his hip to reveal a bullet wound that had grazed him and Danny looked up to survey the damage he had caused. "Jerry, I am sorry about that." 

"It's a flesh wound--a lot better than what would have happened had Al-Benzat gotten off a shot."  Mike, Danny and Jerry all knew Al-Benzat would have blown Jerry's head off.

Jax looked around abruptly, making eye contact with Jerry.

"Danny shot Al-Benzat or he would have shot me.   And there was a ricochet that clipped me."

Jax switched his gaze to Danny, and said, very deliberately, "Thank you."  What Danny didn't know was that Jax, in addition to forgiving him the goat, added Danny to the short list of people that Jax would help anytime anywhere they might need it, even if they didn't ask.

Mike made quick work of cleaning and dressing Jerry's wound.

"Okay, Mr. Concannon, now your eye."

"Mike, it's Danny. "  Danny propped himself up on his elbows to allow Mike to remove the gauze from above his eye.  The bleeding had slowed to an ooze.

"Danny. I should clean and suture this."

Danny didn't know if he wanted 'Dr. Mike' sewing on his face in a bouncy helicopter. "Why, it's stopping?"

"If you wait more than six hours, it's considered a contaminated wound. It'll heal with a scab and then a scar, provided it doesn't get too badly infected,"  Mike said laconically.

Jerry looked sternly at Danny. "Let me assure you, a scar will not make you more attractive to women.  And he does nice work," he said glancing at Mike.

Mike cleaned the wound and most of the black grease paint from Danny's face. Then he removed a large -- in the opinion only of Danny -- curved needle and suture from its foil pack.  Gripping the needle with needle holders, he calmly warned Danny, "You can make noise if you need too.  But don't move because I am working near your eye."

"I'll fly her smooth as silk, " added Jax from the front.

Danny fired off a barrage of expletives under his breath with each throw of the needle, but he made no outward noise.  It took Mike only 15 minutes to get 15 stitches in place despite some rolling of the helicopter. Next Mike placed a bandage around Danny's head and they all settled in for their flight to Sana'a.  The goat was asleep--Danny now knew it was possible to sleep in a helicopter.

As they flew through the night, Danny wondered if he'd ever write a story about how he came to be on a helicopter racing toward Yemen, laying on his stomach with ice on his butt, blood caked on his shirt, and a bandage on his head.  Mostly though, at that minute, he was very happy that Jerry wasn't a real news photographer.  Danny closed his eyes and again thought of CJ. 

Not wanting to attract the attention of the Saudis, Jax and Jerry decided it was better to just stay off the radio. It would take them about three hours, to reach Sana'a.  They'd miss their check in time with Marbury, but not by much.  No harm would be done.  The only thing that really mattered now was just to get to Sana'a safely.

---------------------

"Mr. President, we may have a situation."  Leo was going to hand Barlet the CD-ROM, but thought better off it ... how could the man be such a computer phobe?  He popped the CD-ROM in the computer and together they watched the movie one more time in silence. "I have activated the situation room, spoken to the Surgeon General and CDC.  We are checking discreetly to see if anyone is sick already.  Those who are will get a song and dance about being needed urgently at the office, 'we understand the inconvenience,' and so forth.  I think you will want to call the Director of the FBI."

"My God, Leo.  Charlie has been out sick.  Are they checking on him?  We will also need to figure out what to do about the press room ... the members of the press."

"I looked ... CJ is still in the building,"  Leo paused.  "She seemed a little stressed ... talking to her ... eh ... goldfish."

The President who had been heading out of his office stopped dead in his tracks.

---------------------

Across the world the helicopter was reaching the Saudi border, flying low to avoid detection. Danny's eyes flew open.  He had been dozing, dreaming of CJ, thinking of the virus and the plan.  A terrible thought had entered his mind.  Grabbing the headset that he had taken off to rest more comfortably, he urgently spoke to the Jacks brothers.

"Guys?  Didn't this seem just a bit too easy?"

TBC