"Leo ..." Bartlet was getting pale and didn't seem to be able to finish.

Was he having an attack, Leo wondered?  CJ talking to a goldfish was perhaps reason for concern at some level, but it didn't really warrant this reaction.

"Leo, Abby went to see Elizabeth and the kids ... she was telling me that she felt like she was coming down with something, but that the kids already had the flu so it wasn't a problem."

"I'll get someone on it right away, Mr. President.  We will get Mrs. Bartlet, your daughter, and her family back here asap," Leo sprung into action and picked up the phone.  Within minutes, a helicopter took off from Fort Meade with orders to retrieve the first lady and her eldest daughter with family.

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

Jerry turned and looked at Danny, but said nothing.

Danny repeated, "So, don't you think getting those computers was a bit too easy for a terrorist plan of this magnitude?"

"Mate, he almost shot me. Not exactly easy. They didn't expect us; that was our advantage."

With a tired sigh, Danny put his head back down. He felt uneasy nonetheless. He wondered if the rest shared his concern... or, if they just saw him as an inexperienced worrier. When the most urgent matters had been attended to, if he was still bothered by a sense of having only seen the tip of the iceberg, he would bring this up with Jerry again.

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

It was 9:00 pm in Washington.  At 3100 Massachusetts Avenue, the elegant tall columns on the Sir Edward Lutyens Williamsburg replica were bathed in spotlights.  The black and white patterns glistened in the parquet-floored hallways, but they were largely empty at this hour.  Lord John Marbury sat in the Ambassador's study, reflecting quietly on a long, tense week.  The soft light on his desk was the only light in the room and it cast gentle shadows on the liquidambar woodwork and paneling.  He rose and went to the fireplace where he started a fire.  Casting a glance at the portrait of Churchill, he thought ... "It is time, old chum ... it's now or never.  Either they have succeeded and were unable to call.  Or ... "

Whichever the case, secrecy no longer helped them and the people at the White House would need as much time as possible to deal with this.  Marbury picked up the phone.

"Miss Cregg, Lord John Marbury here.  I believe you're expecting my call.  I've not heard from our mutual friends.  As you know I should not go into the White House.  Can you come out?"

"Call me CJ, please.  I have no fever as of yet, but I am starting to feel a little less than well.  Perhaps I should wear a mask ... well, no ... that would be a little alarming.  How about I wear a scarf ... it is cold?  Can you come to the gates of the White House?  I will come out."

"20 minutes. CJ, no news isn't bad news.  It's just no news."

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

Thursday, early morning in Yemen, 9:40 pm in Washington.

The walk to the Oval Office seemed longer to CJ than any walk to the Oval Office, she'd ever taken.  From across the room, "Hello Charlie, I need to see the Presi... Charlie, you look awful... weren't you out sick today?"

"Yes.  I got called in.  Not sure why.  I can't really imagine that the missing schedule was that big a deal. I will tell him you're here."

CJ realized that the White House had likely been notified about the issue by the terrorists.  It was a standard procedure to circle the wagons and get staff within the White House for safety.  In this case, the safety that they would all be concerned with was that of the rest of the City.

Charlie returned immediately.  "You can go in now." 

CJ remained near the door, touching nothing and making no move to approach the President.  Bartlet didn't notice and started in on his concerns immediately.

"CJ, we have this thing ... a terrorist situation that you should be aware of ... but nothing can get to the press at this time.  Abby is on her way back." "I know about it, Sir." "What? How ... CJ, how could you possibly know about this?  Leo only told me a few hours ago."

Before CJ had a chance to answer--to a certain degree, fortunately before she had a chance to answer to give her time to formulate a response -- Charlie interrupted.

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

The flight from Jeddah to Sana'a seemed to take forever in a chopper not built for speed.  Finally, the tired and ragged--but relieved and happy--group landed in the private plane sector of the international airport with one of the worst reputations in the world.  Danny vaguely remembered reading a series of reviews by travelers ... the biggest complaint had been security and theft.  At least, they were above issues with the first and since they technically were the thieves, perhaps that one would work out as well.

Once aboard the J & J jet, the first order of business was to contact Lord Marbury. 

"John, it's Jerry.  We have it, mate ... we have it." 

"Splendid, Jerry."

"We're in Sana'a, Yemen.  We'll be airborne in the company jet in a few minutes.  We should be back just after dawn there.  Our flight plan is into Dulles.  See if the White House wants to change that and arrange for all the right people to meet us.  And John, the problem is contained in Saudi Arabia, but the FBI won't have long to track the terrorists and round them up in the US before they discover the mothership has been destroyed.  The name they need is Abdul bin Masuud Al-Amin."

He repeated the name, "Abdul bin Masuud Al-Amin. I'll pass that along, Jerry."

"We have a couple of minor injuries, cuts and bruises but everyone is fine. Oh, and John, see what you can do to convince the FBI not to arrest me as I get off the plane."

"I'll do my best, Jerry ... a reprobate such as yourself is alw ..."

"One more thing, John.  Andrea will be working on the data from the computers we lifted from the lab.  Should the data prove valuable, we will transmit from the air.  I will need to know where the White House would like the data to go ... FBI, CDC, Bethesda?  I don't want to wait until we actually get there ... the antidote must be started right away."

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

"Charlie, it's Lord John Marbury here.  May I speak with President Bartlet, please?"

"I believe he's with someone, sir."

"This is rather urgent, my boy.  Tell him I have the solution to his little virus problem.  I think he'll want to talk with me."

Charlie entered the oval office.  "Mr. President.  Lord John Marbury on the phone.  He says he has the solution to the virus problem." Charlie said it such that it sounded like a question, finishing with a slight cough.

"Put him through, Charlie."  He turned to CJ, "how is it so many people knew about this situation before I did?"

"Mr President, it's John Marbury."

"John?"

"So the terrorists have contacted you?"

"Yes."

"The information on how to make the antidote for the cancer virus has been located at the lab in Saudi Arabia.  A Mr. Jerry Jacks and his brother, a Mr. Jasper Jacks, and your reporter, Danny Concannon, are on their way back from Yemen now.  They filed a flight plan into Dulles, but you may want to have your air force meet them and escort them some place closer to Johns Hopkins.  Recognizing that time is of the essence in producing the antidote, Mr. Jacks has a computer expert on board analyzing the data from the computers they obtained.  As soon as she can verify the data, it can be sent on to any location.  I will need a call back with a destination after you have discussed it with your people.

Further, Mr. Jacks requested I tell you that they have the situation contained in Saudi Arabia, but the name you need for the US operation is Abdul bin Masuud Al-Amin.  In exchange he's asking not to be arrested when he sets foot on American soil.  Sir, I believe that would be a fair choice.  Is CJ Cregg there, sir?"

"She is, John."

"Would you tell her that Mr. Concannon and Jerry Jacks have very minor injuries, but that they are fine."

"Yes, John.  And for whatever role you played in this, and I'm sure I'll find out soon enough, thank you."  He hung up the phone.

"CJ, they have the information we need and Danny Concannon and Jerry Jacks are fine, just minor injuries."

CJ nodded with relief.

"Are you going to tell me this story?" 

"I have come to give you the details. They're in this story, written by Danny.  He has provided it to us. It hasn't been filed.  The rest of it, he and Jerry Jacks can provide when they land.  Sir, I suspect I've been infected. I've only handled the envelope, not the disk inside.  I don't want to infect you if you're not infected already.  I'll drop the disk out the envelope onto this chair without handling it.  Then I'd best return to my office until the doctors can tell us how to proceed."

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

Ironically, as the J & J Jacks of Alaska started to taxi out onto the runway in Sana'a, a large commercial jet with an origination point of Madrid started to unload its passengers.  Ahmed took a deep breath as he walked out in the airport.  At least now he was back on Arab soil.  Not his home, but closer.

Procuring a taxi, he gave an address in the old town portion of Sana'a.  He would be back in his apartment -- one of his apartments -- in time to walk the narrow streets and attend the mosque where he and his brother had once worshipped after a successful mission in Israel.  His brother.  Yussuf.  The message on his voicemail, which he had finally been able to check while in the customs line, said that his brother had been shot by terrorists who had attacked the veterinary lab in Jeddah.

This was supposed to have been a proud and happy moment; his mission was a success, even with the break-in at the lab.  And yet, once again, his enemies, the enemies of the true believers had foiled it.  They had taken his brother.  They would pay for this insolence.

With a strange mix of sadness and relief, he gazed at the busy streets, the quirky architecture, the many mosques.  Allah was great.  There was a message in here for him.  This was a test of his resolve, his faith.

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

Jerry's first order of business for the flight home was a change of clothes for himself and Danny.  He went to see if Richard could donate a set of sweats to replace Danny's ripped and wet pants and blood-stained shirt.  Jerry did not like the sight of his own blood or that of his friends and wished to remove those reminders quickly. 

Meanwhile, Dr. Jergens attended to Danny. He was satisfied with 'Dr. Mike's' sewing ability and revised Danny's head bandage to something slightly smaller. The news was not quite as good regarding his other injury. "Danny, unfortunately, I think you may have broken your tailbone. You'll need to have radiographs and complete exam when we return.  I'll give you some fentanyl for pain, an injection and a patch."  He attached the patch to Danny's upper arm. "If you have broken your tailbone, you won't be very comfortable sitting down for the next two weeks, but it's not likely to require any surgery.  Why don't you lay down, here."

Joining the wounded hit-parade Jerry settled in next to Danny on the long couch that ran down that side of the plane. Next came IV antibiotics for both. And Jerry got a fresh bandage as well.

Danny was lying on the couch on his side.  "Hey Buddy."

No one, other than law enforcement, with a derogatory tone, had ever referred to Jerry as 'Buddy.' "How you doin' mate?"

Jerry smiled as each of Danny's words came out slightly more slowly than usual.  "Fentan--yl is interesting.  I'm aware that my butt hurt a few minutes ago and it should now, but I don't really care.  It's someone else's butt."

"I see narcotics suit you."

"I've never danced with her."

"If you're asking me to teach you to dance, I'm not the best choice.  Jax is your man.  I can get by, but I'm not sure I can teach you..."

Danny raised his head just enough to rest it in Jerry's lap.  He drifted off into a drug-assisted slumber and Jerry stopped his explanation.  He didn't really need to move.  Jax was the best one to deal with the suits and uniforms in the US government when they started calling. Mike was, as always, attending the important details including what to feed "Gimpy 2," as Jerry had taken to calling the goat kid.  "Gimpy 1", of course, would be reserved for Danny.  And Andrea and the translators would work with the computers.  He rested his hand on Danny's shoulder and leaned his own head back to rest.

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

The First Lady and her oldest daughter with kids and husband in tow swept into the White House with a mix of frustration, anger and fear.  How could this be happening to them?  Was anyone safe?  How soon could the tests for the virus be administered?  And as is often the case, the blame landed on the person in front of them ... the one with the big title.  Bartlet stuck close to his office.

Leo had unsuccessfully tried to plead Jed's case with Abby, but had in the end lost.  She was good and mad and scared and for now, Jed was going to be the scapegoat.  Turning his attention to other matters, Leo read an analysis of the terrorists' CD-ROM.  Dr. McNally had as always been efficient, but she was raising issues that were scaring him.

"While the demands from the CD-ROM are fairly standard terrorist wish list items, it is of some concern that they were all lumped together here with a tight deadline.  In the unlikely event that the US would have negotiated or even given in, the chance of getting a broad spectrum of demands was zero.  Yet, the demands were all expected to be met.  Or, perhaps the explanation is that the demands were not expected to be met.  That the terrorists did not care if the demands were met.  They were a means to an end that we do not yet understand."

Closing the brief, Leo stared out the window.  What if Nancy was right?  Was this the beginning, not the end?

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

By the time the J & J Jacks of Alaska jet arrived back in Washington, CJ had a fever and joint pains.  Now she knew she couldn't leave the White House. She had slept fitfully through the night, curled up in a blanket on her couch.  She was awake now, but fever denied her the energy for clear thoughts.  She wanted to believe that they were right, that they had the antidote.  Somehow she really wouldn't believe it until she heard it from Danny.  And what were his injuries?

Josh peeked his head in through the door to interrupt her jagged train of thought.  "How are you?"

"I've been better.  You?"

"Still feel fine."

"Then you shouldn't be in here."

"Danny found the antidote, right?"

"That doesn't mean you want to get infected.  Josh, the thing was tested by terrorists on a handful of people.  It doesn't exactly have the Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval.  Ordinarily... well, on rare occasions... I'd love your company.  But until your test results show you've been infected, only people with fevers need apply."

"Okay, I'll be back when I have test results in hand."

"Shut my door, would you.  I think I should try to go back to sleep."  She tightened the blanket around her shoulders, but it did nothing for the chills.

TBC