Across the world, including China, the reaction from the media and the public was immediate. Servers all across the globe tripped, as social media use exploded. Talking heads raged or praised, based on their own agendas.
At two locations in North Carolina, the reaction was no less.
CHAPTER 29
3400 Avent Ferry Road
New Hill, North Carolina
July 31, 2017
2020 hours EST
The Kitchen
"Your President has brass balls, I'll give him that," Aiguo said, while sitting at the round dining table beside the kitchen.
Jonathan Davies sat across from him, saying nothing. He had rotated off night shift two days ago, and wasn't scheduled to return to work for another five days. It had been two days of constant grilling. He knew from experience that these men were in the final stages of planning their attack on the plant.
"Unless they have a tank or a hundred men, they're wasting their time. They would have to take out the whole security force in their initial assault. Even at night, we have 25 people on duty. I've given him everything he asked for, but it won't do him any good. Local SWAT teams will be at the plant in less than an hour. The initial Bragg personnel will be there in less than two hours. By plan, they won't hesitate. They'll head straight for the Main Control Room and kill any hostiles they encounter. That's the heart of the plant, the Control Room," Jonathan thought, careful to keep his face subdued.
"Your President is either trying to force us into action or cow us into submission. Neither tactic will work. The only potential problem will be at the plant," Aiguo said, while sipping on a mug of green tea.
"So what will happen at the plant, Sergeant Davies? What changes will the Security Force make?" Aiguo asked.
Jonathan paused. He wanted nothing more than to lay his head on the table and find blessed sleep. He forced himself to focus.
"During normal online operations we're in a Level 3 security. Because of the President's speech, we'll go to a Level 2, maybe even a Level 1, but I doubt it. We only go Level 1 if an attack on the plant is imminent or in progress. At Level 1, all unnecessary personnel are evacuated from the plant site. We go into lockdown. No personnel remaining on site are allowed to move outside their immediate area without being escorted by armed security personnel. The on-shift Operators, Mechanics, Electricians, Radiation Protection and Chemistry personnel will stay for the duration until relieved. We've never even practiced it with site personnel. Operations would go berserk. It would slow down their routine activities inside and outside the plant. They push back hard against anything that restricts their ability to move freely on plant site. They're prima donnas, and almost always get what they want. I might even get called back in early," Jonathan said, without thinking, as his fatigue became overwhelming.
"Excellent, I certainly hope that they do call you back. I need you inside the plant," Aiguo said, while flipping back through the pages of a notepad.
"You are due for a duty rotation back to Command Central, are you not?" Aiguo asked.
"Yeah, unless they change the schedule, which they might at a Level 1," Jonathan said.
Jonathan had been trying to carefully weigh everything that he told this man, but a lack of sleep, the fear for his family, and the time change of shifting his body from nights to days, was affecting his thinking, and he knew it. He was exhausted, getting careless and chatty.
"So let's talk some more about Command Central, the place you call Overwatch. Let's go over the details once again," Aiguo said, while turning a fresh page on the notepad.
Jonathan rested his head in his hands, his elbows on the table. He knew that the fate of his family rested in those same hands.
"Command Central is located inside the security fence, in one of the unused diesel generator buildings. The original plant design called for four Emergency Diesel Generators, one for each of the reactor units they were supposed to build. By the time the plan was cut back to two units, the concrete building had already been built, one bay for each diesel generator. The diesels are huge monsters, over two stories tall. Each one can generate over 10 megawatts of power, enough to operate all the essential electrical needs of the plant. Being inside one of the bays when one of them is running is unbelievable. Hearing protection is mandatory," Jonathan said, feeling his mind begin to wander.
Jonathan had been trained in the Army to resist interrogation, and knew that one of the primary weapons of the interrogator was fatigue. The more tired you became, the less rational you were. It became more difficult to pick your words carefully. Things began to just spill out. He sensed that he was at that point.
"When the construction plan was changed again, and the second reactor was cancelled, the second diesel generator had already been installed. So we have two diesels. That left two of these huge concrete bays empty. After 9/11, security improvements were mandated by the NRC. Instead of being the 'red-headed stepchild' on site, Security became necessary for plant operations. If the NRC wasn't satisfied with the security at the plant, then the plant was shut down and forced to make improvements. We got plenty of money from CP&L. The last thing they wanted was for this plant to sit idle. They would lose over $1,000,000 a day when it wasn't running at 100% power, and that was 10 or 15 years ago." Jonathan said.
"Command Central, Sergeant Davies, how many personnel work inside? How is access controlled? How are the personnel armed?" Aiguo asked.
"Like I said, two empty bays, security moved into the fourth one, the one furthest from the operating diesels. It's on the north side. A second floor with an elevator was installed in the main bay, where the diesel would have been. The lower floor is filled with servers, cooling units, storage lockers, spare parts, even spare servers. The second floor is accessed by an elevator or a single stairwell in the front of the building. It takes a key card to access the building. Each person on site has a key card. Different people are allowed access to different areas. It's based on need. Plant Operators have access to everything except Command Central. Only about half of security personnel have access. It's far more restricted than the Main Control Room," Jonathan said, as his head dipped toward the surface of the table.
"Does your key card allow you access to Command Central?" Aiguo asked, looking up from his note pad.
"Yeah, I can get in there. I've been trained at every station, so I have access," Jonathan said, as his mind drifted into blessed sleep and his head slid to the table.
"Do you want me to wake him?" Chonglin said, as he rose from his chair in the hallway and approached the table.
"No, let him sleep for half an hour. He's still providing useful information. As long as he cooperates, he and his family will stay alive," Aiguo said.
The Bedroom
The door to the master bedroom was shut. Her husband was outside, being interrogated once again. Dorothy knew the big Chinese guard was sitting outside her door, always just outside her door. He had the look of a pit bull; that barely restrained aggression just waiting to be unleashed. You could see it in his eyes. She was terrified of him. She hated him. Callie and Emily were buried in the sheets and covers of their parents' bed, sound asleep. They were too afraid to sleep in their own beds. Dorothy, wrapped in a blanket, sat in the old NC State rocker, a present from Jonathan's late mother.
"She was so happy when she found out I was pregnant with Callie. She was finally going to be a grandmother," Dorothy said, while caressing the rocker's worn arms and staring at the lumps in the bed, her life's work.
"Three generations of Davies women have used this rocker while nursing their young, but Nana never got to see Callie. Life was too cruel, to short," Dorothy thought, hoping that the back and forth motion of the rocker would ease her mind, but it didn't.
"They let me tend my garden out back. That was a mistake. But I'm just a woman. They have my children. But they don't know about the wild hemlock growing down by the creek. I've got enough now. When I mix it with the green tea, they'll never taste it. T
here will be enough toxins in the drink to take down a bull. When the leader leaves, he always leaves this one behind, the one who broke my finger, his pit bull. He doesn't sip. He gulps down cup after cup. By the time he starts to feel something, it will be too late. His hands will get numb. He won't be able to walk or talk. He'll drop like a stone. I'll call the police, the Marine's, the damn President. Maybe I'll just take his gun and shoot him. Jonathan said that he'd protect us, but he's trapped. I'm all alone, all alone with the girls. I'm going to do the protecting. I'm going to kill that bastard," Dorothy said, her voice as quiet as a mouse, as the rocker's back and forth motion lulled her into sleep.
CHAPTER 30
447 Weldon Lane
Sanford, North Carolina
July 31, 2017
2030 hours EST
The Barn
2nd Floor
"Jian, come back to the house. You have to see this," Heng said, while standing at the top of the stairwell on the second floor of the barn.
"What do I have to see, Heng? I'm in the middle of planning. I'm expecting a call from Lieutenant Gong at any moment," Jian said, while turning toward the stairs.
"The American President . . . he has made a speech about us. Our pictures are all over the TV. That idiot Chonglin has doomed us. We are being hunted by all of them," Heng said.
"All of them? All of whom? Who is hunting us, Heng?" Jian asked, turning away from the map of the plant.
"They know all about us. The Americans . . . they are all hunting us . . . all 300 million of them," Heng said, while gesturing for Jian to follow him back to the house.
Jian stood, and stared at the map of the Harris Nuclear Plant, knowing that they would attack the nuclear plant within the next 48 hours, or they wouldn't attack at all.
CHAPTER 31
Central Intelligence Agency
Mission Center for Weapons and Counterproliferation
Office of Director Janet Davidson
Manassas, Virginia, USA
August 1, 2017
1100 hours EST
"I'm glad the President went public, but every law enforcement agency in the Southeast is getting calls from people claiming to have seen the Chinese boogeymen. Some asshole is already advertising 'Siberian Tiger Special Forces' t-shirts with the Chinese character for 'tiger' included for an additional fee," Janet Davidson said, while staring out the window.
"That doesn't surprise me, Director. If World War 3 started, some entrepreneur would try to sell t-shirts and bumper stickers to make a buck off the event," Amanda said, while scrolling through texts and e-mails on her phone.
"Director, it looks like DHS got two good leads last night from the same place in South Carolina. An Exxon gas station owner sent in a pic of the tiger character carved into one of the pillars at his station. The second lead was from the same town. A woman called in about an Asian female in camo who always comes to the grocery store late at night, and buys large amounts of food and supplies. She said the woman claimed to be a 'Prepper' who lives in the area. The last time she came in, the woman said she saw an Asian man waiting for her in the passenger seat of a Suburban. She said she stared out the window of the store, and the man glared at her. Scared her half to death," Amanda said, as Janet walked toward her.
"What's the name of the town, and what action is DHS taking?" Janet asked.
"Dillon, South Carolina, and they've sent a team down there from Columbia. I'd like to check this one out personally. I can hit the road now and be there in eight hours," Amanda said.
"It looks like the best lead so far. We've been playing catchup for months. It's about time we had some luck. But screw the road. I have a personal jet. Be at Manassas Regional Airport in an hour. I'll have the crew waiting for you. You'll be on site in two hours," Janet said, while picking up her cell phone.
CHAPTER 32
Exxon Gas Station
Dillon, South Carolina
August 1, 2017
1430 hours EST
"Nice to meet you, Agent Langford. I got a call a few hours ago that you might be showing up. I was told you were the one who broke this whole Chinese conspiracy wide open. That makes you a national hero," DHS Senior Agent Jack Honer said, while shaking her hand.
Amanda was shocked. It was the first time anyone outside her office had recognized her work. She had never even considered the possibility of her actions being heroic.
"Nothing heroic from me. I was just doing my job, and following the leads. I'm here to see what you've found so far, Agent Honer," Amanda said, feeling herself blush at the man's words, and hoping he didn't notice.
"Here's what we've got," Jack said, while pointing at the second gas pump on the outside row.
"Look at the pillar beside this pump. You can see the symbol on the right side," Jack said, as he walked over to the pillar.
Amanda followed him, and stared at the Chinese character. She then removed her phone from her suit coat, and began looking for previous pictures of the character left behind in the ambulance and in the storage building. She held her phone beside the new character, comparing all the images.
"So what do you think, Agent Honer?" Amanda asked, having already reached her own conclusion.
"Can't say as I'm an expert on Chinese writing, but I am a member of the American Society of Questioned Document Examiners," he said, and laughed.
"I guess you would call me a handwriting expert, among other things. That's why DHS sent me down here as lead on this case. But in answer to your question . . . let me see your phone for a second," Jack said, as Amanda handed him the phone.
He held it beside the pillar, comparing her pictures with the new sample. After a moment he handed the phone back to Amanda and turned away.
"So what do you think? Did the same man make both characters?" Amanda asked.
"I have a basic familiarity with Chinese characters. They consider their written language an artistic expression of human language in written form. There's an emphasis on motion charged with dynamic life. Western culture is far more practical . . . utilitarian. We're function before form. That's why most schools in the United States are doing away with teaching script. It's outdated, a relic . . . an art," Jack said, paused as if considering another subject, and then continued.
"The man who carved all three of these characters is not an artist, but he is consistent. He has practiced this character hundreds of times. The lines aren't graceful, they're brutal. He didn't just scratch the surfaces where he left his sign, he carved them in. The way he writes reflects his personality. The man is a killer, and a bit of a loner. Only a man with that personality type would do something like this. If he was an American, I'd say he was giving us the middle finger," Jack said, while running the tip of his right index finger gently across the character on the pillar, tracing each line.
"I've heard a similar analysis from another individual involved with this case. He had many of the same conclusions about this man's personality type. I've thought for a while that this Tiger character that he keeps leaving behind would be the clue that broke open this case," Amanda said, while taking a picture of the character to add to her collection.
"So what else has DHS discovered in this area? What about the witness at Food Lion?" Amanda asked, while sending the image to her boss, along with a summary of agent Honer's opinions.
"Mrs. Jennifer Parkins . . . she's been the manager of the Food Lion in Dillon for the last seven years. She gave us a description of the Chevy Suburban and a partial South Carolina plate. I got the feeling that she's in everybody's business, as the saying goes in the South. The partial had 18 South Carolina matches. There were only five that belonged to Suburbans or vehicles of that type. So far, we've cleared four. Unfortunately, there's a Chevy dealer in this area, so Suburbans aren't that rare," Jack said.
"And the last one?" Amanda asked, as they both turned away from the pumps.
"Feel like taking a ride? I'll drive. It's not far from here, a town called Little Rock," Jack said, poin
ting toward his own black Chevy Suburban.
Two other large vans had pulled into the station after Amanda had arrived. They seemed to be waiting.
Jack noticed Amanda staring at the vans and said, "Reinforcements. There's one of our assault teams in each van. Local law enforcement and the Highway Patrol have already isolated the farm where the vehicle is registered."
"You can ride shotgun. The boys can pile in the back," Jack said, and smiled, while opening the passenger side door.
CHAPTER 33
Farm House
230 Harlless Bridge Road
Little Rock, South Carolina, USA
August 1, 2017
1550 hours EST
"It seems we're finally ready, Agent Langford. This farm house is buried in the woods. That's unusual for this area. Most old farm houses in South Carolina are surrounded by . . . farmland, not woods," Jack said, as he and Amanda stood at the back of his Suburban.
"Maybe that's why they chose this place. It's isolated and hidden in the woods," Amanda said, while adjusting the Velcro on her bullet-proof vest.
"All right, get the drone up. Let's see what we're dealing with," Jack said to the operator standing beside him.
"On the way, Sir," the operator said, and the RMUS Multi-mount drone lifted off from an open space ten yards behind them.
Jack and Amanda stood beside the man, staring at the split screen mounted on a stand in the back of the Suburban.
"The screen on the upper right is forward visual. Upper left are split screens of peripheral left and right. Lower right is thermal and audio. If the ambient air temperature is close to body temperature, thermal isn't very effective. Lower left is a map overlay. It shows the position of the drone," Jack said, as they watched the drone slip just below the dense foliage of the trees.
HARRIS (Detonation) Page 11
