Episode 082

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“A host is like a general; it takes a mishap to reveal his genius.”

Horace

 

 

            The elevator doors parted, revealing Sarah.  In her black trench coat and stone-cutting stare, she walked into the empty office, flowing amongst the chairs and curved tables towards the meeting room.  She stepped inside, a few surprised stares thrown her way.

            Eliot glanced up from his central seat and steaming cup of coffee, looking her up and down in her trench coat.  “I wasn’t aware you were coming back to active duty so soon.”

            “I’ve been getting bored,” she answered, turning around the chair nearest the door.  She sat down, hiding her wince as she leaned back.  She turned around to Eliot, Jason and Isaiah sitting across from each other at the far end of the table.

            “How’s the back?” Eliot asked.

            “Her baby’s got it,” Jason mumbled with a childish smile.  Eliot looked at him, lost.

            The door opened again and Assif came inside, carrying a large file.  He had a strained look on his tired face and moved with the familiar agility garnered from too-early a morning.  “Good afternoon,” he said to the four in the room already as he walked to the back wall.  He opened a wooden panel, revealing an array of controls and consoles.  He took a flash drive from the folder in his hands and plugged it in, the screen that composed most of the rear wall coming to life.

            As Assif worked, Lisa and Irene came in next.  They both paused when they saw Sarah, but then pretended not to have noticed anything abnormal.  They sat down, Irene in the center seat and Lisa between her and Isaiah.  They left a seat between them and Sarah.

            Til and Jin came in next, both sitting down without incident.  Alex and Emma finished the group and sat in the remaining seats.

            “Good afternoon,” Assif said the moment Alex was seated.  “I’m afraid that our current projects may have to be put on hold for a few days.  We have received some disconcerting intelligence from the United States that takes precedence.”

            He turned to the screen, hitting a control on the tabletop, causing it to display a security camera’s vantage.  “At 11:09 am New York time, a man by the name Khizer al-Malik boarded a plan flying into Denmark.”

            “What the hell is it recently with that country?” Jason exclaimed.  “Every time a Persian or an Arab gets on a plane, they act like the world’s going to end.”  Emma hit him on the arm, glaring at him to quiet down.

            “Al-Malik was searched when the metal detectors went off,” Assif explained, narrating as the footage moved on, showing the lithe, dark-skinned figure being pulled aside.  “His belt buckle proved to be the culprit.  All in all, there didn’t seem to be anything suspicious about him.”

            “Obviously, there’s something the US officials missed at the time,” Sarah concluded.

            “When his luggage was searched,” Assif went on, switching from the video feed to an array of photographs, “they found two objects which are now causing concern.”

            One photograph came to the forefront, showing a scimitar with a blue ray-skin scabbard.  “Given al-Malik’s attire and general physical presence,” Assif continued, “it is believed that he may be a magic user.”

            “Great,” Til grumbled.  “A Muslim magician.”

            Assif tapped his finger on the tabletop, letting go of the comment.  “That, however, is not the primary cause for concern,” he continued, moving to a new picture.  It showed a small metal box, a foot long and roughly half as wide and tall.  It seemed to have no hinges for opening.  Its only distinctive feature was a red metal symbol engraved on the top.

            “What does that say?” Irene asked, sitting forward as she put her glasses on.

            “That’s a word?” Lisa asked in dismay, marveling.

            “It’s a pre-Semitic symbol that means…” Emma said, studying the photograph.  She began to look worried.  “Subtle fire.”

            “That seems to be the consensus,” Assif nodded.  “The symbol is from a language that is believed to be at least 4500 years old.  Its first recorded use was by a culture known as the Akkadians.  The term ‘subtle fire’, a fire that does not give itself away with smoke, is the fairly literal translation of Jinn from the Islamic traditions.”

            “Um,” Eliot spoke up, “I have to confess when I hear the words ‘Islamic’ and ‘fire’ in the same sentence, I start to get nervous.”

            Assif said nothing as he stared down at the console, typing in orders, and then turned back to the screen.  “The term Jinn is generally synonymous with Genie, though technically the two terms should not be interchangeable.”

            “Okay,” Alex said aloud.  “I’ve got to ask this now.  What’s the big deal?  I mean, we’ve got a Muslim wizard flying from New York to Denmark with a box marked genie.  So what?”

            “The reason this is to take such precedence is due to Khizer himself,” Assif explained.  “Khizer is an immigrant to the United States, who was brought there after the Gulf War in the early ’90s.  The fact that he is Islamic has landed him on US monitoring.  That he is an immigrant from Iraq, even more so.”

            “The fact that he’s a magician of some type makes it a wonder he isn’t in Guantanamo already,” Sarah said, looking snidely to Alex.

            “The US believes that the box may potentially be some type of bomb,” Assif reported with bated words.  “However, given that it doesn’t seem to conform to any known type nor is there any evidence on the box itself, they suspect that it may be a bomb of magical proportions.”

            “Oh, that ain’t good,” Jason whispered.

            “That seems like a heck of a leap,” Alex maintained.  “Maybe the box contains a genie and he’s taking it back home.  Why is this such a big deal?”

            “The harm is the ‘maybe’ in that sentence,” Sarah said, sitting forward.  “If it’s a bomb, especially a magical one, then it could represent a monumental threat to wherever he’s headed.”

            “He’s headed to Denmark,” Eliot said.  “What would he do there?’

            “Go somewhere else,” Assif answered.

 
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