by Brandt Legg
“Speaking of finding us, I guess we better check-in with Tess.”
Wen’s phone buzzed.
“Is that Tess?” Chase asked, not surprised, since she often called when they were talking about her.
“No, it’s The Astronaut,” Wen said, tapping the speaker button, maybe he found our mystery people.
“I’d rather he found our target city.”
“Can you talk?” The Astronaut asked.
“Yes, go ahead.”
“I think the data we recovered from the Hayward’s flash drive, tells how to disarm the weapon.”
“So you know what the weapon is?”
“I’m afraid I do.”
“Is it bad?” Wen asked.
“Bad? Depends on if you considered Hiroshima and Nagasaki bad?”
“Oh no,” Wen said. “They can do it?”
“I believe they have a weapon that is capable of killing a million or more people in a single strike.”
“So it is nuclear?”
“I don’t know the answer to that yet, it can be nuclear based, but not deliver nukes. It is certainly a laser and will inflict mass destruction. Tu was correct, it is a kind of death ray, properly referred to as a directed-energy weapon, and likely fueled by nuclear fusion power.”
“My god,” Chase said. “Please tell me we can use the plans to disable it?”
“Apparently they constructed a grid so that it is magnified in its destructive force by a factor of seventy.”
“But you said there’s a way to stop it.”
“I’m not sure that can be accomplished in our time frame and the parameters with which we are working, particularly since there’s so much we still don’t know. However, if you can get to the source, we now have a blueprint to disarm it.”
“That’s why they killed Hayward and all the scientists,” Wen said. “So we would not find the way.”
“Yes, I believe that’s why they killed Hayward because he discovered the flaw.” The Astronaut’s voice shook a little.
Wen trying to keep him on track and spare him anymore emotional trauma, pushed on. “How does it work?”
“It’s not easy, but there is a process, where an insertion can interrupt the sequence, the item is used to control systems for industrial lasers, and an Actuating Leading Edge Sight Stimulated Emission Nanometer.”
“That’s a mouthful.”
“It’s called ‘ALESSEN’ for short and it’s not readily available.”
“Where do we get it?”
“Maybe DARPA, even then, it may need some modifications . . . if we can’t obtain the correct one . . . I’ll send you the steps for the insertion.”
“We still have to find the origination point, where the weapon is based. What if we’re wrong and it’s not Norfolk?”
“Then let’s hope it’s Philadelphia or Baltimore.”
“That’s a lot to hope for,” Chase said.
“There are also coded sequences of randomly generated numbers that change every three minutes. A kind of failsafe.”
“Every three minutes?” Chase asked.
“I’m working on a program that can duplicate and substitute the generating algorithm.”
“How are you going to do that?” Wen asked.
“It works from numerical patterns in sixteen, twenty-four and eight digit combinations. I’m good at patterns.”
“Okay, get the ALESSEN, find the location, figure out the pattern, do the insertion . . . ” Chase said. “What about Skyenor’s phone.”
“That is taking a little longer than I anticipated, the data on the phone self-destructed, but I am still working on the back up. I’ve been spending most of the time on Hayward’s assets. The watch yielded the names.”
Once again Wen heard the strain in his voice. “On an entirely different subject, any progress on the shadow people photos we sent you?”
“I let the system hunt detailed queries, and checked it just before I called you. We got a few more hits with Finale,” he said, referring to a group of mercenaries that had supplied many shadow people to the cartel. “But nothing earth shattering.”
“What about Belfort?”
“Nothing by the name, but the programs did come up with some suspected affiliations. Addresses in New York City, London, and one in Panama.”
“Affiliated how?”
“Financial affiliations, again no connection to the names, these are just deep patterned pickups by the algorithms. So it may be nothing. I’m having it focus more on those addresses and re-crosschecking the connection. It will take time until we know more.”
Chase sighed. “We’re always chasing time.”
Seventy
Washington, DC - April 3rd - 3:40 pm
Wen scoured the area, always worried it might be a trap, but in this case, it was more likely they were doing the trapping. How many covert deals have gone down in a small DC park like this one? she wondered.
She studied special agent Gary Bollinger, he looked like a classic G-man; short hair, pressed white shirt, dark suit, shades. He appeared to be in his early to mid 40s, but she knew from the file The Astronaut had provided that he was fifty-one, and had twenty-four years with the Bureau. Wen suspected he wasn’t that good with a gun.
Bollinger was connected and had been involved in many of the FBI’s most important cases for the previous fifteen years, including Americans accused of espionage, as well as illegal activities by foreign corporations.
At first glance, and knowing his history, one would never have guessed Bollinger was a corrupt agent. However, Wen could see it in his eyes, a dissatisfaction, a rules don’t apply to me, I’m better than you, kind of look. She’d been trained to identify candidates that could be turned. Wen had been good at working double agents for the MSS, but she never liked that aspect of her job. It was the gritty sleazy side, never able to trust anybody, danger and double dealings lurking around all the corners.
Bollinger too was wary and observant since he had also been trained to read people, he studied them, looking for the details that might reveal a secret, their body language that could provide an answer, detect a lie. He had already checked the area, and chosen the location.
“This way,” he said, walking around to an area he’d obviously used before. A place where they could be out of view of cameras, and anybody who might want to watch. The overhanging trees made aerial surveillance nearly impossible.
“Nice office,” Chase said.
“Just need to check you for any listening devices,” he said, holding up an electronic wand.
Chase looked at Wen. She nodded.
Wen raised her hand slightly as he traced the outline of her body, she turned and allowed him to do the front and back. He ignored her Glock. Weapons weren’t what he was looking for.
“I appreciate that,” Bollinger said, as it showed clear, then repeated the operation on Chase. “Thank you for not wearing any wires.”
“We’re not here to trick or trap you, Agent Bollinger,” Wen said.
“Right,” Bollinger said. “We have a mutual friend who thought we might be able to do a little business.”
Although Wen was used to using weapons or muscle to obtain information from subjects, sometimes even torture if the situation was desperate, and Blackout was certainly the most desperate situation she’d ever been involved with, those methods were not always preferable, and unlikely to work in this case. This is about money, she thought, it is all Bollinger cares about. And Chase has the ability to make it happen.
“So then what assets are you looking to acquire,” Bollinger asked.
“We aren’t really—”
“Something in Federal Bankruptcy Court? Register country? Venture capital?”
“We actually aren’t looking to acquire any assets,” Chase said.
“No?” He eyed them suspiciously.”
“We actually want some information.”
“Yeah, I don’t give information. That’s not my department. Wa
nt information call 411.” He turned to go.
“Wait,” Chase said. “We’ll pay for this information, the same as the other services, and it’s a lot less work for you. No investigation, no time. We just need a few names and addresses.”
“Names and addresses. What agency are you with?”
“Let’s just say we have a competitor who we need to know more about.”
“A little corporate espionage.” He almost smiled. “I don’t want my reputation damaged. My clients . . . ”
Chase narrowed his eyes, suddenly annoyed by the “bad cop,” as the pressure of what they had to do against the ticking clock felt heavier than ever. “Wait a minute, you’re an FBI agent, telling secrets, looking the other way, exactly what reputation you talking about?”
Bollinger looked at Chase like he wanted to hit him, but then sloughed it off with a quick laugh. “Like hell,” he said. “You may think you’re smart, but I’m providing a service. No one’s getting hurt. I’m a businessman, and I do have a reputation with my clients.”
Chase thought of the million people about to die.
“Were looking for a sizable facility, owned or operated by a foreign entity, something that might be a big research complex in excess of a hundred acres. Something that you might’ve helped get the approval for.”
Wen watched a shadow through the foliage.
Seventy-One
Washington, DC - April 3rd - 3:44 pm
Bollinger stopped and stared at Wen. “Something worrying you?” he asked, seeing she was obviously distracted.
“Always,” she said, deciding the shadow may have been just a shadow. He couldn’t know how they haunted her.
He nodded, almost amused. “Anyway, I don’t really get the approvals, that’s the committee’s job, but I do the investigations to make sure, it’s not violating acts or codes, that it complies with foreign ownership rules. I don’t actually go look at these places.”
“However, you do read the reports? This would be a pretty large facility.”
“What country is the parent for whoever bought it?”
Chase shook his head. “Don’t know. We need you to tell us. More than likely Russia, could be China or North Korea, but aren’t there ways of cloaking that?”
“Yeah, there’s a lot of ways, that’s why I asked who originally funded the venture capitalist okay. That money can be based anywhere, I get a lot of companies from Panama, various European nations, that I doubt have anything to do with the transaction. But that’s where the corporate parent is allegedly based.”
“I don’t understand how it gets the approval of the office without somebody in Congress.”
Bollinger looked at Chase as if he might be a gullible child. “Because most of the politicians who run things are corrupt or soft corrupt.”
“Soft corrupt?”
“They aren’t selling national secrets or anything, yet they can make things happen. For the right donations.”
“Which ones?”
“Which ones what?”
“Which ones are corrupt or soft corrupt?”
“You want a list?”
“That would be great,” Chase said.
He rattled off nine names.
“Are those the corrupt or the soft corrupt?” Chase asked.
“Those aren’t the corrupt ones,” he said with a laugh. “Those are the only ones who aren’t corrupt.”
“You’re telling me that out of the five hundred thirty-five members of Congress, only nine are completely honest?”
“Yep, corrupt or soft corrupt, a few haven’t been tested I guess.”
“Okay, back to the facility,” Chase said pulling a slip of paper out of his pocket, struggling for a minute to read his own writing from the notes he had taken during an earlier call with The Astronaut. “These are some pretty specific parameters; minimum number of square-feet, it also would have to have let’s call it, an internal deep well . . . ” he read the rest. “Surely, you can remember some of these characteristics.”
A painful look crossed Bollinger’s face, as he nodded slightly. “I may recall that one.”
“Talk to us,” Chase said. “We need to know where it is. And if you know about a person called Tolstoy . . . Laser technology . . . and an operation called Blackout.”
“I think we need to transfer some funds first.”
Chase and Wen waited impatiently as a series of glitches took almost twenty-five precious minutes to get the money into Bollinger’s account.
“Mechanicsville, Virginia,” he told them and then provided the specific address.
Wen pulled it up on her phone. “Just outside Richmond.”
“It is,” Bollinger said. “Now, that concludes our business, so if there isn’t anything else.”
“Do you have blueprints? Plans, Plats, Schematics, engineering . . . ”
“I can get them to you.” He took out his phone. “I won’t even charge you extra,” he said smiling, as if he’d just thrown in a set of floor mats for a used car.
A few minutes later, all the data arrived, and Wen switched it to her tablet. “Got it.”
“A pleasure doing business with you,” he said to the now very distracted Chase and Wen, who were studying the specifics on her tablet.
They all left at the same time, but Bollinger exited the park from a different direction.
While Chase drove, Wen continued to study the materials. “We have thirteen hours,” she said. “Assuming the countdown has already begun we’re inside the ponor window.”
“Ponor?”
“Point-of-no-return.”
“Which means there may be no way to stop it.”
“But if we insert the ALESSEN,” Chase said, referring to the Actuating Leading Edge Sight Stimulated Emission Nanometer that was now waiting in their helicopter. “There might be a chance to stop it.”
“How close are we to a landing spot?”
“Call Walt and have him meet us at this high school,” Chase said pointing to a map in the dash. “I think it’s the closest spot for an easy landing.”
Wen called and arranged for their pilot to rendezvous with them at the school football field.
“We’ll be there in five minutes.”
Wen checked the time. “Walt said it’s about a thirty minute flight to Mechanicsville.”
“Let’s get the location and all this information to Tess,” Wen said.
“Tell her to bring in the Calvary.”
“She’ll probably beat us there.”
“Fine with me,” Wen said. “I suspect the place is well fortified.”
“I can’t believe the Russians built this monster facility right under the nose of the Americans.”
“It’s a pretty large industrial park. Apparently lots of front companies. They’ve obviously been working on it for years. It has prefab house manufacturers and other phony businesses that wouldn’t raise any suspicions when truckloads of materials are brought in.”
“Smarter people than me planned it well,” Chase said.
“I didn’t think there was anyone smarter than you.” Wen winked.
“Laser weapons from space . . . Nuclear fusion energy . . . Creating artificial suns . . . there might be a few.”
“Don’t worry, at least you’re cute.” Wen’s smile turned quickly back to concern. “Tess’s phone is coming up out of range.”
“That’s strange,” Chase said. “She would take our call. She must be in a secure meeting.”
“Probably with the president.”
“I hope so.” He pulled into the high school. “Call The Astronaut. Send him everything. He can track her down and or get the location and weapon specs straight to CISS.”
Seventy-Two
Washington, DC - April 3rd - 3:50 pm
Chase grabbed the duffel full of weapons from the trunk of the car. As they jogged to the chopper, Wen sent the data to The Astronaut. Just before the helicopter lifted, she called him. “We can’t reach Tess. I sent
you everything we have. Can you make sure CISS gets all this and meets us there?”
“Of course,” The Astronaut replied.
“Have you figured out the target city?”
“The radius projections say it has to be Norfolk, Tidewater, Virginia. They’re going to take out as much of our military as they can. So we don’t have a chance to retaliate.” He paused. “But there is a secondary option. There is a chance it might be Washington.”
“I thought DC was not one of the possibilities?”
“The latest data changed that.”
The pilot signaled they were going up.
“You have to get Tu and my grandmother out of the city, now.”
“I will,” The Astronaut said. “I won’t let you down.”
“And get to Tess. Hopefully, she’ll get half the military to meet us there.”
“I’ll make sure.”
Washington, DC - April 3rd - 3:52 pm
As Nash ended the call, he quickly skimmed through the data for a minute so he would be able to relay specifics to Tess or one of her assistants. But knowing every second counted, even before finishing his review he pushed the button to connect with Tess.
He looked at the out of range signal as if it was mocking him, then scrolled his contacts to get Tess’s deputy, Linda’s direct line.
With a sudden flash and bang, the door to his office blew in. Eight black clad gun wielding special ops agents filled the space. Someone grabbed him. The phone flew from his hand.
Before he could even process what was happening, Nash was face down on the floor with what felt like one hundred rough hands grabbing, patting, and holding him down.
“Stop this! Stop now, please stop!” He moaned, as panic and confusion locked his brain. “No, no, no!” he screamed “I do not like this, I do not like this.”
He continued rambling repetitive phrases, which became more and more nonsensical while they dragged him from the premises. Several armed men shoved him into a black van. Others stayed behind to ransack his space.
The next thing he knew, The Astronaut found himself cuffed to a chair in a tiny room with hard floors and plain walls. Everything looked foreign to him. The table seemed to take up the entire room, as if any movement from him and the woodgrain laminate top might cut him in half.
