He did and it did. Kim inhaled sharply and began coughing as the ammonia attacked her nasal passages. Her eyes fluttered open and she saw Lt. James holding her head in his arm and looking down into her face with a look mixed in concern and desire. She was wonderfully happy just to continue to snuggle in his arm.
He waved the capsule again under her nose drawing another round of coughing from Kim. That effectively ended the fantasy she was living in at that moment.
He helped her to her feet and moved her slowly to the edge of the bed. She sat down heavily and held her head in her hands. He looked down as the doctor continued working on Hoch. She had started an IV and was injecting something into the IV line. The doctor talked over her shoulder as she worked. “He lost a lot of blood, his right lung is useless, his left lung is not in much better shape, and his liver is punctured. The bullets went all the way through his body and imbedded in the floor. I need to start him on several units of blood plasma and a unit of his whole blood ASAP. It’s a good thing that all of you chose to store several units of your whole blood when you first arrived here.
I’m giving him a broad-spectrum antibiotic to fight infections. I’m also going to give him a sedative to knock him out.”
“No, don’t,” Kim and Lt. James, yelled at the same moment.
He explained to the doctor, “We need to try to get him to tell us what happened and who did this.”
“He’s almost in a coma for Christ sake!” Francine replied angrily. “You want me to keep him alive, or just alive long enough to answer your questions?”
“Wake him up,” the lieutenant ordered in the way of reply to her question.
Francine grimaced, hesitated, and reached into her bag for another injection. She pushed the hypodermic’s contents into the IV. “He’ll be groggy and maybe incoherent. He’ll only be awake for a few minutes, so make your time count!”
They all stared at Hoch’s inert form. Slowly, he began to slowly move his arms in a pawing motion. His eyelids fluttered and opened to small slits. He lay motionless for a few seconds and then opened his eyes wider. His eyes darted rapidly left to right. He finally seemed to focus on the doctor’s face. He appeared to recognize her.
Lt. James leaned down and Hoch’s eyes focused on his face. The lieutenant asked, “Hoch, do you hear me?”
Hoch nodded his head.
“Can you try to answer a couple of questions?”
Hoch nodded and his voice croaked, “I’ll try.” He licked his lips. Francine wiped his dry lips with a wet cloth to moisten them and Hoch attempted a small smile in gratitude.
“Hoch, who did this to you?”
Hoch croaked out a sound. He tried again to say something but only a noise came out.
He suddenly seemed to tense up and his body went rigid. His eyes seemed to have a wild, frightened look as he moved his gaze from Kim to Lt. James and back. He opened his mouth and a low moan of exhaling air was the only sound he made. His eyes glazed over into a dull film. As Kim watched those eyes, she saw the life leave his body. And then, he was gone.
62
In Flight
The mobile launcher was parked in a quiet dairy farm’s south pasture ten kilometers outside the city of Chelyabinsk. A small herd of Brown Swiss cattle grazed nearby.
The TOPOL-M SS-27 missile’s main solid fuel engine ignited with a roar. The engine built thrust as the holding clamps restrained the roaring beast. At four seconds after engine ignition, an electrical current was removed from the solenoids keeping the holding clamps closed, and they released with a metallic snap. The missile literally leaped from the enclosed silo of the mobile launcher with a spreading white cloud of expended fuel.
The cattle scattered, running away from the roaring beast sitting in their field. It would be many days before their owner would get a decent milking from them.
The internal guidance system utilized a combination of a strap down inertial navigation system and a global positioning system. As the inertial system’s normal error rate began to grow over time, the GPS sampling was used to compensate for the errors. Using this combination made the initialization phase of the inertial system much shorter thus making quick missile launches much more of a reality. The quicker a launch could take place, the less chance of compromise of the missile.
In this case, the system was performing flawlessly. The missile was, at five miles up, accelerating through two thousand kilometers per hour, and right on course. The Russian launch specialist noted all of this on his flight log as he interpreted the in-flight navigation sensor readings being sent by telemetry back to the mobile launcher.
The launcher crew had formally named the missile “Tanya”, but they called her the Russian affectionate form “Tanechka”.
It would be a glorious flight for our Tanechka, thought the launch specialist.
63
Chip, Chip, Who’s Got The Chip?
As Hoch expired, the doctor began working frantically in a futile attempt to resuscitate him. She worked for several minutes as Kim and the lieutenant looked on. Kim’s phone rang once during this time, she glanced at the caller id and saw it was a call from outside the United States.
It can wait, she thought. It will have to wait. She just let it ring through to her voice mail.
Francine had been on her knees this whole time working on Hoch. She finally sighed and set back on her feet with her legs folded under her. She turned to look at the two security officers, “He’s gone. There is nothing I can do.”
Lt. James had been standing next to the couch. He dropped down on it with a look of resignation. Kim just stood frozen next to the doctor.
The Doctor gathered her instruments and packed them in her emergency kit. She stood up, slung the kit's strap over her shoulder, and seemed to want to say something, but instead simply turned away and left the room. After the attempt to save Hoch, she knew life was too precious for her to ever take her own.
Lt. James cleared his throat and started to say something when his cell rang.
“James.” He answered.
“Lieutenant, where in hell is the chip?” Layne Bartlett all but shouted through the phone.
“Bolino left to bring it to you at least five minutes ago. He isn’t there yet?” the lieutenant replied.
“No, he’s not. Find him and get the chip back here, pronto!” Layne said and hung up.
Kim snapped her fingers and said, “I got a call when the doctor was trying to save Hoch. I’ll bet it was Brad!” She pulled her phone off her belt holder and keyed up the missed call. “Oh, no, I remember, it was a call from Mexico. Not from Brad.”
She saw there was a voice message waiting, she was too short on time to key through the lists to see who sent it to her. “Wait, I have a voice message, maybe that one is from Brad.” She said as she keyed the message play.
“Officer Danby? This is Antonio De La Cruz. I am the personal assistant to Mexican Senator Gutierrez. I have urgent information about your situation! I know who the mastermind is! Please call me at once, please. Here is my number.” The lieutenant saw her eyes widen as she listened to the message. She listened to the number and immediately dialed it. Lt. James started to say something and stopped when she held up her hand. De la Cruz had answered.
“Antonio De La Cruz. Is that you, Officer Danby?”
“Yes, Mr. De La Cruz. You say you have information?” Kim replied.
Antonio got right to the point. “Someone I know and care about is involved in some highly illegal and immoral activities regarding your Storm Killer project. I don’t wish for that person’s involvement to become public. Everything I tell you are based on that requirement. Do I make myself clear?”
”Very clear. But I cannot guarantee anonymity or immunity if his identity is uncovered via our normal investigations. It is the rule of inevitable discovery.” Kim replied.
“I’m a lawyer and understand that. I simply want you to know that I’ll not disclose this person, or how they came to be involved i
n this tragedy,” Antonio stated.
“Agreed.”
“Certain people in the Mexico wish to have Storm Killer fail and to fail in a spectacular way. They have enlisted the aid of a Dr. Rosen, your President’s Senior Science Advisor. You will find an offshore account in the Caymans with two hundred million dollars owned by Dr. Rosen.”
“How do you know this?” Kim asked.
“Never mind. Just be aware that I do know things you need to know.”
“Do you have proof?”
“Yes, there are files of the account set up and wire transfers from Mexico city to that account. But the proof is not important right now. You are running out of time. The Russian missile will be launched soon,” Antonio continued.
“Russian missile launched! What missile?”
“You don’t know about the missile? My god, woman, what kind of operation is the United States running up there? Your President requested the Russians to launch one of their missiles and blow Storm Killer apart. The Russians will be launching in few minutes if they have not already. Didn’t your operations people tell you of the launch?”
“Ah, no.” Kim replied.
“This is my last piece of information. Dr. Rosen has at least two accomplices onboard your station. I simply know them as Number One and Number Two. I have a list of calls coming that were made from Dr. Rosen’s phone immediately after the Mexico conspirators’ conversation with him a little over an hour ago. As soon as I get the list, I will fax the it to your PCD.”
“Thank you, Mr. De La Cruz. I will be awaiting that list. Good bye for now,” Kim said as she disconnected.
She quickly briefed the lieutenant on the content of the call with De La Cruz. His mouth dropped open when he heard the mastermind’s name and position. It dropped even further when he heard about the missile.
“What the hell is wrong with ground control? Are they just going to let us get vaporized by a nuke? That’s cold, very cold,” he yelled as he paced around the room. He stopped and turned to Kim. “Jeez, we have two saboteurs onboard? Who the hell can we trust?”
The lieutenant made a snap decision, “We have to trust someone. My gut tells me that Adam Sand is a straight shooter. I’m going to bring him in on this.”
Kim grabbed his hand as he reached for his phone. “Are you sure? Hell, I don’t have a clue who to trust anymore. I’m pretty sure that one of the senior staff is at least one of the conspirators. I’m not sure which one yet, but it had to be one of them at the crystal lab crash site. She explained her reasoning about the bloody shoe prints and the missing portions of the soles of the murder’s shoes.
Lt. James nodded. “Yes, that sounds like good logic. So one or more of our directors is involved in this plot. Hmmm.” He walked around the room slowly with his hand rubbing his chin as he thought through Kim’s reading of some of the clues.
He stopped and turned to her. “Okay, what about the 8 or B on Rafael’s side?”
Kim replied, “Well, that could be anything. It might be a red herring left by the murderer to confuse us. Or, it might be a number for a locker or room, like safety closet 8, or it might be the initial of the perp. It could mean anything or nothing.”
The lieutenant countered, “If it is an initial, then it might be Ballard, Bolino, or Bartlett. And there are still at least two techs on the station whose last name starts with a B. Still too many suspects! But at least it doesn’t point to Adam Sand in any way I can figure out.”
Lt. James called Adam Sand. “Adam? Lt. James here. We just got reliable word that the Russians have or will shortly launch a missile targeted at Storm Killer. Do you know anything about it?”
Adam was shocked that word of the missile had apparently leaked already. Should I deny or confirm? He wondered. There was nothing to gain by denying it. “Yes,” he responded, “the Russians have been asked to launch a missile. I received word about five minutes ago that the missile had launched, but then I got another call stating it had not launched, yet.”
“Can you verify it? Our source believes the missile launch has already happened,” the lieutenant asked.
“Of course. Give me a minute. I’ll call you right back.” Adam hung up.
Adam dialed Dr. Rosen’s number, a Washington DC area code, and got a fast busy signal indicating all circuits were tied up to the Washington DC area exchanges. Rose’s phone was a New York area code, maybe it would ring through. He took a chance and dialed her number. Maybe she’s back, or maybe Rosen still has her phone, he thought as he listened to her phone begin to ring. Little did he know that there would be many rings before anyone would answer that phone.
64
Puerto Plata: The Height Of The Storm
The rain was falling in torrents. At moments, as the wind whipped the sheets of water into a fine spray, visbility was down to less than ten meters.
As Edna approached the islands’ northern most point, the water surged five miles inland. At the coast, the surge was almost thirteen meters above sea level. The sea extended all the way through the city to base of the mountain. The crashed gondola containing the bodies of the motorman and Gérard’s cousin was submerged in three meters of water.
The surge had increased in height very quickly. So quickly, that many people were caught without time to make it to higher ground. The water, muddy brown from silt, was filled with debris of the city. Everything from soggy paper trash to dead chickens could be seen floating and tumbling in the churning waters. Occasionally, human bodies could be seen as a wave broke over it. An arm, or leg, would flop loosely through the top the wave, indicating another human tragedy caused by this monster storm.
At the home of Yvon Latortue, the force of the wind had blown out the picture window and had pushed the board’s nails out of the wall. Rain and wind were whipping through the apartment unhindered. Yvon and her young children had nowhere to go, so she improvised a tenuous shelter under an old tarp behind the sofa. Even on the third floor, debris flew through the air, flinging it through the open window space. A large shard of a construction two by four imbedded itself in the wall behind the sofa.
Yvon was unsure when that two by four had blown in. Time now was just a vague concept. The overpowering feeling was that time was standing still and the storm’s hell would go on forever. She laid her body across the top of the children and prayed for the hell to end. Please! End this! I can’t take anymore! She heard the apartment building groan as the water level reached toward the third floor. Waves lapped just beneath her storm-battered apartment. How much more can this building withstand? The water is almost to my window! Thoughts passed through her mind about the two families that lived under her on the second floor. Their apartments were already submerged. Had they survived?
She pulled her children’s bodies closer to her and waited for the end. The first large wave lapped over the bottom of the apartment’s shattered window splashing through the room.
Adélaïde and Gérard Simeon listened to the wind roaring around the visitor’s center atop Mount Isabel. The large panes of glass looking out on the Christ statue were still in one piece but not for much longer, Gérard thought. He glanced at his son and daughter, hoping his fears didn’t show.
The Christ statue was a smaller, but still colossal, version of the world famous one in Rio de Janeiro. It was mounted on a half-dome sphere of masonry. The statue had Christ’s arms extended to his sides as if welcoming people to him.
They watched as the statue began to bend at its base. As the wind worked the statue loose from the base, the Simeon family became almost hypnotized at the event unfolding in front of them.
The statue managed to survive until a wind gust approaching four hundred kilometers an hour tore it from its base. The statute’s outstretched arms became small but effective wings as the statue lifted into the air and flew through the plate glass of visitor center.
Christ’s head rammed into Gérard, crushing him against the rear wall. Blood poured from his open mouth around his half bitte
n off tongue as he expired. The statue caught Adélaïde and pinned her under its back. She was still breathing, but her lifeblood slowly oozed away and was long dead by the time rescuers arrived at the top of the mountain.
The two children’s deaths were the most remarkable and later reported in newspapers around the world. The statue’s right hand caught the son, Grégoire, just below the base of his skull and literally tore his head off. The left hand crushed Bernadette against the reception desk. It killed her instantly and also killed the three-week-old fetus she was carrying.
It was as if the statue was getting retribution against the family for some unknown sins.
Edna took her latest victims without a qualm and was hungry for more.
Henri crawled to the edge of the apartment’s glass doors and peered out a gaping hole where, less than ten minutes ago, a balcony had been. Now, he could see his mother’s apartment building in the distance.
He was frightened by what he saw. The ugly, boiling sea covered the city’s downtown almost to the third floor of the buildings there. Several buildings had already crashed into the frothing water as their foundations crumbled from the relentless stress of water and wind.
The all-but-condemned apartment building he was in rocked back and forth in a frightening motion as the water crashed around it.
The two brothers consumed most of the beer they’d bought and went in search of loot in the closed shops of the downtown area. They were drunkenly inspecting some costume jewelry in one of the many closed shops in the main shopping district when the storm surge hit. Instead of running for higher ground, they tried to make their way back to the dilapidated apartment building which already had a three-meter wall of water running passed it. They drowned, panicked.
Henri was completely alone as the storm mounted to its full fury.
The rain stung his face as he squinted to see his mother’s apartment building. Henri’s heart leaped to his throat when he saw the first waves invade the third floor windows of her building. Oh, my Jesus, please keep my family safe. Please let them live, Henri prayed.
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