The Hojjatieh Society was important but unfulfilling to Kazi’s grandfather until he attended a mosque in Qom and heard an Imam who was a Twelver. By the end of that Friday’s holy day, Qazvin and his 14-year-old grandson Kazi were radical Twelvers. Kazi had centered every dream on the return of the Twelfth Imam, the Mahdi.
Kazi’s grandfather encouraged him to pursue college studies in the medical sciences. He applied to many universities in Europe and in the United States with his Pakistani passport and credentials. He was accepted to every university he applied to but one stood out: war eagle.
Kazi knew nothing about Auburn University, let alone the state of Alabama, but the name “war eagle” matched his own self image. He, too, was raised to be a war eagle and entered Auburn in the fall of 1998 as an 18 year old.
Kazi thrived for three full years and made hundreds of friends across the Auburn campus and throughout Alabama and neighboring Georgia. Everything changed for Kazi on September 11, 2001. In one swift instant he became a suspicious Middle Eastern man. The terrorist hijackers were Sunni. He was Shiite. Most of the 9/11 terrorists came from Saudi Arabia, but Kazi was from Pakistan and Iran. Eight months shy of graduating Auburn with a bachelors of science in microbiology with honors, Kazi was ostracized and discarded. He was as angry as a war eagle.
The job market in the United States for Middle Eastern men after 9/11 was very challenging. Kazi applied all over the world before finally getting a job at Brezden University Medical Center in The Netherlands where he worked as the microbiologist on a team that studied avian influenza. Though he was brilliant and perhaps one of the most gifted microbiologists in the world — thanks to his early years in Qazvin’s laboratory — Kazi couldn’t shake the anger.
His frequent trips back to Islamabad and Tehran allowed Kazi to meet people who were willing to pay for his significant expertise while he put his Brezden job in jeopardy by missing so many days of work. By the time he was terminated, Kazi was an international freelancer, a Shia Muslim Twelver with an angry past and a “war eagle” attitude.
In 2006, the executive branch of the Iranian government, as well as elements of the vaunted Revolutionary Guard, fell under heavy influence by a resurgent Hojjatieh Society. Kazi’s grandfather, Qazvin, became more valuable to the radical government the older and wiser he became. When the elderly Qazvin assumed an advisor’s role to the Iranian president, the university was named after him. By extension, Kazi became the nation’s “war eagle” who had the power to travel freely as an eagle among all nations.
Kazi and Qazvin looked through the charts of the 47 people from the Bourvari District of villages that had already been admitted to the 130 rooms of Ghods Hospital in Markazi. More than 400 other Persian-Armenians had filled the waiting rooms and were spread out in lines under tents and trees onto the hospital grounds and parking lot.
“Many of the children have ulcers, open sores on their hands, arms and faces,” Qazvin said as he reviewed the charts.
“They were infected by contact to the skin. Many of them played in the mist and followed the truck. The adults?” Kazi asked.
“Swollen glands in the throat, shortness of breath, cough, fever, and some with chest pain. We have one fatality, but probably from a heart attack,” Qazvin said.
Kazi stood up and paced back and forth in the administrator’s office while looking out through the glass walls at the Persian-Armenian patients who lined the corridors.
“Okay, grandfather… this is a very effective Phase One clinical trial. Let’s call in the BBC now and other Arabic media outlets. Start all of these patients on intravenous ciprofloxacin and then send them all home with a seven day supply of streptomycin. Make sure that you announce all of the precautions.”
“And you?” Qazvin asked his grandson.
“This exceeded my expectations. It proves we can produce an aerosol version without degrading the bacteria. I must head back to Damghan and make the corrections. Soon we will test the new strand in a Phase Two trial. God be with you, grandfather.”
Kazi kissed his grandfather and walked down the corridor, out the door past hundreds of panic-stricken and infected Persian-Armenians and their children — the same ones who had played innocently in the cool mist just three days before in the villages of Dehno, Khorzend, Farajabad, Bahmanabad and Sangesfid.
23
ISAF Headquarters
Kabul, Afghanistan
General Ferguson, US Navy Captain “Camp” Campbell and retired Special Agent Billy Finn were on a conference call with Lieutenant Colonel Leslie Raines back at Fort Detrick.
“Colonel, again my apologies for keeping you up so late,” General Ferguson said as he transitioned to her part of the call.
“No problem, sir, I’m getting ready to turn-off the lights and hit the couch right here in my office. All tucked in with the blanket my grandmother Lydia knitted for me,” Raines said as the energy in her voice started to fade. With fingers crossed and a voice less than hopeful, Raines announced that she had just launched her fifth preclinical test with the vaccine-resistant tularemia she had created. Each of the four new rhesus monkeys were injected with the fifth generation of the vaccine designed to trigger an immune response to the lethal inhalation tularemia Raines had developed. Within five days, they would all know if they had four more dead monkeys or if Raines had finally cracked the code.
Major Spann opened the door to Ferguson’s office unannounced and burst into the room. The general was immediately angry.
“Major!”
Spann was out of breath.
“Sir, BBC right now, tularemia outbreak in Iran.”
Spann fidgeted with the remote controls and finally got the TV on and tuned to the BBC as Raines kept the line open and listened from Maryland.
“Again, Iranian health authorities have announced a natural outbreak of tularemia. Tularemia is known by several societal names including rabbit fever, deer fly fever, Pahvant Valley plague, and Ohara’s fever. But today, more than 400 people living in the villages of Dehno, Khorzend, Farajabad, Bahmanabad and Sangesfid — mostly in the Markazi Province — call it torment. Authorities at Ghods Hospital are appealing for calm. This is not — I repeat — not a fatal condition if infected patients receive antibiotics immediately. Health officials are stressing that this is also a very preventable disease, and some vaccines may already exist. Tularemia bacterium is found in wild animals and can occur from undercooked meat and in infected drinking water supplies. The people in these villages should make sure their meats are thoroughly and sufficiently cooked and should boil their drinking water before consumption, at least until this outbreak is under control. Authorities stress that this is a sanitation issue, and no one should panic.”
Ferguson nodded and Major Spann turned the TV off.
“Brilliant… just brilliant,” Billy Finn said as he got up rubbing his head.
“But you said the drone and the satellite took photos of the Iranians using the SkitoMister to spray these people. How is that a natural outbreak?” Raines said as her voice erupted over the open telephone line.
“It’s nothing short of a perfect explanation. Iranian authorities are now concerned with the poor sanitation in these rural villages. Cook your damn meat and boil your water and you too can prevent a natural outbreak,” Ferguson said with high notes of sarcasm punctuating each word.