by Akart, Bobby
A gentle trickle of icy water poured out of the culvert. He took a deep breath, put aside his fear of the dark, and entered the pipe. Crawling, slowly at first, Jonathan focused on a faint light off in the distance.
He’d traveled for three hundred feet when he finally reached the other side of the culvert. He crawled up a slight incline and found himself next to another runway. He could no longer hear conversations, so he raised his body onto his knees to look back toward the terminal. At least a dozen FBI agents could be seen in the headlights of their vehicles, milling about the jet.
His father was being led away in handcuffs and was thrown into the backseat of an unmarked car like a common criminal. Anger built up inside Jonathan before a tear rolled down his cheek. It saddened him to his core to see his father being treated that way.
The sadness turned to fury when he began to assign blame for what was happening. Ultimately, it was the President of the United States who’d have to approve a hastily made arrest like this one. However, Jonathan Schwartz was also astute enough to know that revenge against his family would not be foremost on the president’s mind during this time of crisis. Someone else. A powerful individual who had both the contacts and the motives to settle old scores was behind this.
Jonathan clasped his hands together and then extended his index fingers forward to emulate a gun barrel. He pointed toward the east. Toward New Haven. Toward George Trowbridge. Then he muttered the words, “It’s time for you to die, old man.”
Chapter Fifty
Haven House
The Haven
Everyone helped clear the dishes from the table, and Ryan poured a final round of after-dinner drinks. He didn’t want it to appear that there was an unlimited supply of alcohol at the Haven. As part of their vetting process, they tried to learn about the personal habits and activities of their residents. If someone appeared to visit Cancun on a regular basis, constantly photographed with a Corona in hand, they were most likely excluded from the start. The Smarts were interested in a community of responsible adults, not partiers.
The group assembled in Ryan’s study following dinner except for Charlotte, who insisted on cleaning up the kitchen and watching over Hannah. She really enjoyed the company of the young girl and wanted to allow the Cortlands the opportunity to participate in the discussions without feeling like they were pushing their child on their hosts.
“Ryan, this is an impressive room,” began Tom as everyone walked around and admired his mix of historic collectibles and books. “I’m sure there’s a story behind every one of these pieces.”
“Like this?” asked Cort, holding up a hardbound book depicting a colonial soldier holding a musket. “It’s from the Boys of Liberty Library. The Minute Men of Massachusetts by John Morgan.”
“Yeah, that’s an old one,” added Ryan. “Published in 1892, if I remember correctly. It was part of a collection of school books taught in history classes before they started rewriting history.”
Everyone passed the book around before Cort placed it back on the shelf. After he did, Tom scooted up next to Cort.
“May I see that again?” he asked.
Cort used his basketball-player frame to easily retrieve the book from the upper shelf. He handed it to Tom, who studied the cover and then thumbed through the pages before returning it to Cort.
“Hmm,” he mumbled and then turned to the rest of the group.
Ryan slid several wood panels to the side, revealing multiple concealed whiteboards. “Guys, I have a theory, but I need the help of different perspectives. And, let me say, a very important voice in all of this hasn’t arrived yet. Her name is Hayden Blount.”
“I know of Hayden,” interrupted Cort. “She’s a real up-and-comer. She’s one of the attorneys representing the president in front of the Supreme Court.”
“That’s right, Cort. She’ll have some interesting insight into all of this, which is why our conversation tonight will probably extend into tomorrow after she has arrived, hopefully.”
“Hopefully?” asked Meredith.
“Naturally, Hayden lives in Washington,” replied Ryan. “And, because she had to wait and see what happened with the Court’s calendar, she got a late start to the Haven.”
“She’ll have to travel through Richmond like we did,” added Tom. “Is she aware of the problems we had?”
“We don’t know for certain,” replied Blair. “I was talking on the phone with her when the call was suddenly disconnected. I wasn’t able to reach her after that.”
Donna shook her head, seeming to recall their own ordeal on the highway. “I’ll pray for her and her safe arrival.”
Ryan turned back to the whiteboard. “Bear with me as I lay out what I’m calling the Leland Gaunt Theory.”
“I told you,” lamented Blair, who laughed along with Meredith.
“Cort does the same stuff,” she whispered.
“All men think they’re Einstein,” Blair quipped.
“Or Sigmund Freud,” added Meredith.
“I heard that, and I’m ignoring you both,” said Ryan as he continued to use the specialized markers to write on the whiteboard. Applying different colors, he wrote down the locations of the major cities that were attacked, and the means. He also included the concert chaos in Atlanta and the downing of Delta 322, Cort’s aircraft.
“Delta, let me ask you first,” Ryan continued. “At the stadium, the power was lost, but also, didn’t you say there was some kind of gas released through the ventilation system?”
“Yes. Naturally, security treated it like a bioterror weapon. You know, some type of noxious gas or even anthrax. It turned out it was from smoke grenades.”
Ryan thought for a moment. “Would it be safe to say the goal of the attackers, terrorists, or whatever was to create a mass panic situation but not necessarily kill anyone?”
Delta shrugged. “Yeah. There were deaths, but they resulted from people trampled in the panic.”
“What kind of concert was it again?” asked Ryan.
“Beyoncé and Jay-Z.”
Ryan stuck out his lower lip and nodded. He wrote this on the whiteboard under Atlanta. He then turned to Cort. “I know that you’re probably in no mood to talk about the plane crash, but can you remember anything about the moments before the plane lost power or immediately thereafter?”
Cort exhaled. Interestingly, during dinner, the stimulating conversation, coupled with the adult beverages, was the first time he hadn’t been replaying the events of forty-eight hours ago in his head.
“Honey, you don’t have to—” Meredith began, trying to protect her husband from the memories of the crash.
“No, it’s fine. Actually, it helps. Two things stand out. One, we were on final approach into Mobile. You could see the lights of Pensacola on the right side of the aircraft and the oil rig platforms on the left side where I was sitting. Second, the power loss was total. I mean everything. Emergency lighting, cell phones, and anything electronic.”
“EMP,” offered Blair.
“More specifically, an RFW,” added Tom. “That’s short for radio frequency weapon. The military, and not just ours, has been targeting a variety of advanced weaponry that can be used to disable the electronics of specific targets using a directed burst of energy—an electromagnetic pulse, as Blair suggested.”
Ryan asked Cort, “How far was the aircraft from these oil platforms? Close enough to be hit with an RFW?”
“Absolutely, but I don’t recall seeing any flash of light or traces of a high-energy beam,” he replied.
“You wouldn’t necessarily,” interrupted Tom. “Plus, the burst occurs so quickly, it would be barely perceptible to the naked eye.”
Ryan wrote this information in the column designated Mobile. “Tom, is it safe to assume that a civilian couldn’t get access to a weapon like this?”
“True, and not only that, most terrorist organizations, from al-Qaeda to ISIS to Hamas, couldn’t obtain one either. North Korea, maybe,
but doubtful. This kind of technology is in its infancy, relatively speaking. The Russians and Chinese are working on it, but we’re way ahead of them.”
Tom sat backwards into one of Ryan’s leather chairs. Meredith addressed him directly. “Are you suggesting that our own military might have shot down my husband’s plane?”
“No, not necessarily. All I’m saying is that we’ve got the technology and it works. I can’t say the same for the technology of our adversaries.”
Ryan wrote the word military with a question mark after it under Mobile. He then walked in front of the column designated Philly.
“This couldn’t have been an RFW,” he began. “The outage was too widespread. Only a nuclear-driven EMP could kill the power from Baltimore northward into New Jersey. Yet it was isolated.”
Tom leaned back in his chair and spread his arms with his palms facing upward. “I hate to say this, but once again, I must point to our military capabilities. We’ve successfully tested submarine-based nuclear-tipped warheads that are capable of flying and detonating at very low altitudes. The Starfish Prime testing of six decades ago focused on HEMPs—high-altitude electromagnetic pulse detonations.”
“That’s all I’m familiar with,” said Blair.
Cort wandered through the middle of the group. “I can tell you why the low-altitude nukes have been developed. It actually follows the lead of the Russians in a way. Moscow had successfully used cyber attacks against critical infrastructure in the past as a precursor to a ground incursion. Georgia, Estonia, and, later, Ukraine are all examples of this. By taking down the power grid and disabling communications, the smaller countries were incapable of fending off the Russian invasions.”
“So we plan on invading Mexico or Canada?” asked Meredith, who’d become intrigued by the conversation. Her husband rarely talked shop in front of her.
Cort chuckled. “Yeah, um, not on the drawing board to my knowledge. However, the use of a targeted EMP is an ideal way to disable an enemy’s electronics without causing similar harm to its neighbors. For example, we could take out the command and communications structure in Damascus, Syria, without destroying the electronics in nearby Beirut, for example.”
“Exactly right, Cort. Again, it goes back to our military capabilities. The launching of a high-altitude EMP requires a rocket, with booster separation, the whole nine yards. The sub-launched low-altitude EMPs come flying out of the bottom of the ocean, race toward the detonation target at hundreds of miles an hour, and barely leave a trace at detonation.”
Ryan wrote this information under the column marked Philly. He sighed and shook his head. He had turned to ask for people’s opinions about U.S. military involvement when they were interrupted.
Chapter Fifty-One
Haven House
The Haven
The rest of the group had made their way into Ryan’s study, leaving Charlotte Echols behind to keep an eye on Hannah, who was watching television alone in the family room. She had finished clearing the table of glassware when she heard a gentle knocking at the door. Initially, she thought about hollering for Ryan or Echo to answer it, but then she shrugged it off. At the Haven, she’d never felt safer despite what was happening around the country. Besides, the bad guys don’t knock.
Charlotte opened the door and was astonished to find a shivering and bloodied Skylar standing in front of her. “My goodness, child. What has happened to you? Come in, come in.”
“Okay,” said Skylar sheepishly as she stepped through the massive wood doorway. “Um, I’m sorry to bother you, but is my dad here?”
“Why, of course, Skylar. He thought you’d be at home with your brother.”
“Hey, Skylar!” greeted Hannah, who’d heard her new friend’s voice. “Wow! Did you wrestle a bear?”
Mrs. Echols shut the door and rushed off to find Delta.
“Hey,” began Skylar. “I, um, you’re never gonna believe this. I saw an all-white raccoon.”
“No way!” Hannah was genuinely intrigued.
“Way. It was dark and I saw it in the road. It looked like it was glowing, like a ghost.”
“I wanna see it!”
“Yeah, maybe tomorrow. Um, I kinda need to talk to my dad first.”
Delta rushed into the room with the rest of the group in tow. “Sky, baby girl, what happened? Where’s Ethan?”
“Sorry, Daddy. That’s why I’m here. Um, I fell down on the road, but I’m okay except for my hand.”
Delta turned around and searched for Blair. She was already headed for the bathroom to retrieve some first aid supplies and waved to him as she left.
“Come here, honey. Sit down at the dining table and tell us what happened.”
“I’ll get a glass of juice, or do you want hot chocolate?” offered Charlotte.
“Hot chocolate, please.”
“Baby girl, are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Daddy. Ethan never came home today. After Hannah and Miss Meredith dropped me off, I started painting and, um, the next I knew, it was dark out, and Ethan wasn’t home.”
Delta glanced around at the curious faces and then closed his eyes. He couldn’t decide who to berate first, himself for leaving his young daughter unattended, or his son, who’d disappeared, shirking his responsibilities to watch over his sister.
“I’ll call the front gate and let Alpha know what’s going on,” said Echo, who walked toward the fireplace to place the call.
Meredith and Hannah sat next to Skylar. Meredith fixed the child’s disheveled hair while Hannah picked out a few more pebbles that remained embedded in Skylar’s jeans. Blair returned with a wet cloth, some gauze, and Neosporin to clean up Skylar’s wounds, which were not significant, but likely painful, nonetheless.
“Delta, wasn’t your son working with Alpha this afternoon on his drone-surveillance project?” asked Ryan.
Delta rose and turned to Ryan. He rubbed his temples and then ran his hands down his face in a sign of exasperation. “Alpha touched base with me at midday and said Ethan was enthusiastically taking to the project. He didn’t have a set time to finish for the day, and I just assumed he’d be back at the cabin before dark, as I instructed.”
“That was two hours ago,” interjected Meredith in a slightly condescending tone of voice. Delta took the hit. No matter how safe the Haven was, you should always know where your children are.
Echo returned to the group. “Alpha is notifying the security team. He’s sent guys to the barn and also around the property.”
“Good,” said Ryan. “I have an idea. Join me in the study. Echo, call Alpha back and tell him to come to the house.”
“He’s already on his way,” said Echo.
“Ryan, I need to go look—” started Delta before Ryan interrupted him.
“I understand, but hang on until Alpha arrives. Let’s go look at the drone footage. Also, this may relate to something else that happened today.”
“What?” asked Delta.
“First, let’s take a look, and then we’ll discuss this with Alpha.”
The guys headed back into the study, where Ryan settled into his chair and powered up one of the television monitors on his wall. With a few keystrokes on the computer’s keyboard, he pulled up a program that displayed the names of all six drones in the Haven’s air force. In a spreadsheet fashion, the monitor displayed when the drones had last provided aerial footage to the computer’s hard drive. The only active camera that sent a recorded feed during the day was H-Quad-1. The other cameras could’ve been active, just not recording.
While Ryan ran through the footage at four times normal speed, Alpha entered the room and addressed the group. “Okay, the last time I saw Ethan was around two thirty or a quarter to three. Thereabouts. He seemed to be doing fine, although I didn’t speak with him.”
“That coincides with the footage,” added Ryan. “Man, he was all over the place. Really, he was flying too fast to effectively surveil anything.”
“Does he have a
cell phone?” asked Cort. “Let’s try to call him.”
“Nah,” said Delta. “His battery died and I told him I’d find a charger for it. Frankly, all he wanted to do was contact his mother, who’s on a cruise and would create all kinds of complications, so I put him off.”
Alpha took a deep breath and exhaled. “Well, I might have screwed up that program.”
“Whadya mean?” asked Delta.
“Well, the boy asked me whether you’d been looking for the charger, and I told him I didn’t know anything about it. Sorry, man. If I’d known—”
“Crap,” said Delta.
“Yeah, well, I showed him where they are,” continued Delta and then added, “You know, his attitude changed a little bit, but I thought it was just a teenager thing. You know, moody and all.”
“Here we go,” interrupted Ryan. “I know this property. Dammit, Alpha. The sheriff was right.”
“What? The sheriff?” asked Delta.
Ryan paused the video at the point where Ethan had made multiple passes along the perimeter fence near the farmhouse adjacent to the Haven. Then he pressed play as the H-Quad-1 suddenly changed its orientation and flew at a high rate of speed before being shut down at the barn.
Alpha gave his opinion. “He saw what he was looking for and made his move.”
Ryan added, “Do you think the kid was smart enough to shut down the video feed via the controller?”
“Yeah,” replied Alpha. “It’s not that difficult for a tech-savvy teen. We could pull the feed from the other drones, but what I just saw is far from coincidental.”
“Would you guys please tell me what you’re talking about?” asked Delta.
Ryan leaned back in his chair and clasped his fingers behind his head. “Late this afternoon, just before dark, I got a call from the front gate when the Burke County sheriff paid us a visit. He actually wanted to come in and look around, but I took a hard stance with him. Turns out his hunch might have been right.” Ryan looked at Alpha, who furrowed his brow and nodded.
