by Brad Taylor
“Sorry. I don’t give a shit. What I want to know is what the damage would be with a dirty bomb on a boat.”
Now on firmer ground, the man said, “Well, that would depend on a ton of different variables. Wind speed, size of the explosive charge, how much radioactive material was involved, and blocking forces such as woods or mountains. If it were a bomb like Oklahoma City, it could do serious damage, spreading radiation over a vast distance. I’d have to know more than just ‘dirty bomb.’”
“Say there was a bomb inside a CONEX on a boat, and it was laced with cobalt 60.”
Kurt heard nothing, and waited. Eventually, the man said, “Cobalt 60 is pretty dangerous. We used to prepare for the ‘doomsday bomb’ back in the Cold War, when the old USSR talked about lacing their bombs with it. In a worldwide thermonuclear war, its half-life would render the entire earth uninhabitable. Hydrogen and neutron bombs were devastating, but they were designed to kill quickly, allowing the reclamation of the terrain. Their effects could be overcome. The fallout from a cobalt bomb would literally destroy the earth.”
Kurt said, “I’m not talking about global thermonuclear war. What could happen with the scenario I’m giving?”
“If the cobalt was seeded into the explosives, it would depend on how big the explosive charge was. It’s directly proportional to how far the explosive power could project the cobalt.”
“Say half a CONEX. Say they had something the size of a Volkswagen Bug. What’s the damage?”
“The explosion would be minimal. Not enough to even worry about as far as loss of life is concerned, but the spread of the cobalt would render everything in at least a quarter-mile radius as deadly. Of course, I say that assuming there aren’t any weather vulnerabilities.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“The cobalt will be thrown out from the explosion, so anything near that site would be deadly, but from then, it would depend on the atmosphere. If the cloud of radiation were spread by favorable winds, it could render an entire city uninhabitable.”
“That bad?”
“Yes. Cobalt 60 was known as the doomsday bomb for a reason. It’s that bad.”
Taking that in, remaining calm, Kurt said, “Thank you.”
George hung up the phone, and Kurt turned back to the screen. “Carly, you know for a fact he’s telling the truth? The guy isn’t just making shit up?”
“Sir, if he is, he’s doing it with a healthy knowledge of cobalt 60. If it’s fake, he’s studied how to make it real. I think he’s telling the truth.”
Knuckles appeared from the back of the aircraft, crowding into the screen. He said, “You get the word, sir? This is no shit.”
Kurt said, “I did, and I need your assessment. Is he telling the truth, or is he just playing you to get us to overreact?”
Knuckles looked at Carly, confused that Kurt was repeating the question. He said, “He’s telling the truth. Carly’s pretty good at interrogation, and she bled him dry. It’s real, and it’s on the way.”
An analyst ran into the room and said, “Who asked for the itinerary of the Al Salam cargo ship?”
George said, “Here. Give it to me.”
He looked at it, then said, “This stopped in Panama two days ago. Where’s the end result?”
“Sir, apparently the ship’s captain decided the new locks were unsafe. He transloaded his shipment by rail to several smaller feeder ships.”
Kurt turned to the analyst, saying, “How many different ships? Who’s got the cargo now?”
“Sir, there’s no way to tell. The rail line drops it at the Balboa port, and it’s like a standby thing. It wasn’t planned, because the original ship was supposed to travel all the way through, so now those containers have been loaded wherever there’s room.”
“Jesus Christ, are you kidding me? We can’t track the shipment?”
“We could with the actual container. It’s sealed and has a manifest, but without knowing which one it is, it could be on any number of ships.”
Kurt looked back at the screen and said, “Ask him what container it’s in. Ask him to identify the container by company or however that works.”
Knuckles flicked his head at Carly, and she disappeared from the screen, going back to the seat where the terrorist was chained.
Kurt said, “Get me Alexander Palmer on the phone.”
George went to the back of the room, picking up a secure line. He began dialing, saying, “You know this is going to take a while.”
“Meaning?”
“Get Hannister. Fuck working through the minions.”
“I’m not there yet. Give Palmer a warning order, and let’s keep working the problem.”
Carly came back on the screen, saying, “He doesn’t know the specific CONEX. He can name the shipper, but he says the firm shipped forty containers. He could identify the original one, but he wrecked it to introduce the cobalt, forcing them to manually transload from the bad container to a new one. He doesn’t know the seal number on the new container. All he can really give us is the ship.”
“Are you sure?”
Truculent, Carly said, “Yes, sir. I’m sure. This isn’t my first rodeo. He did say the bomb is triggered by cell phone.”
“Meaning there’s someone that has to call it?”
“Yes.”
“Does he have the number?”
“No. Only Jalal had that, the guy we missed in Fez.”
George Wolffe said, “That’s not a lot of help. If they can track the package, they can call from anywhere in the world.”
Kurt nodded, saying, “It’s some help. It gives us a way to prevent it.”
George said, “How? Are you going to shut down the cell network of Los Angeles and the California coast for the next month? You know that ain’t happening.”
Kurt absorbed the enormity of what they were facing. He said, “Okay, okay. We’re in crisis mode. Knuckles, get him back here to DC. Usual spot at Dulles.”
“On the way. What’s Pike doing?”
“He’s here, begging to go to Norfolk, but I’m running up against the charter on this. I can’t allow the Taskforce to operate on US soil. Anyway, I think that’s a waste of time now. We finally got some clarity on the bank account, and it was tied to a credit card used at a water-sports shop at Virginia Beach. The FBI investigated and it checked out. The place exists, and has been there for years. It even has an outlet with MWR on Fort Lee. It wasn’t terrorist related. We have one more purchase, but it’s in Richmond, Virginia, hell and gone from Norfolk. Pike’s sure he’s on to something, but I’m thinking Norfolk was the miss, and it’s LA.”
Knuckles said, “If we’re not doing anything anyway, can we head down there?”
Kurt said, “Why?”
“You know, take a few days off at Virginia Beach. Not as Taskforce. Just to take some leave before summer’s totally gone.”
Kurt smiled, knowing what he was asking. He said, “Who do you want to take? Does the entire team want a vacation? It’ll be hard to sell that.”
“How about just me and Carly, and Pike and Jennifer? Could you sell that?”
Kurt nodded, saying, “Yeah. That’s plausible. Just don’t get in any trouble. If you happen to stumble across anything, you back off immediately and feed it to me. Understood?”
“Roger that, sir. See you in a couple of hours.”
George shouted from across the room, “I’ve got Palmer on the line.”
Kurt picked it up, saying, “Sir, I have the attack, and it’s not Norfolk. I need to speak to the president.”
He heard, “What do you have?”
“It’s Los Angeles, and it’s on the way. I don’t have time for a discussion. I need to talk to the president. He’s got to interdict maritime traffic into Long Beach and Los Angeles.”
He heard nothing
for a moment, then, “Holy shit, man, you’re talking about shutting down two of the largest ports in the United States. Are you sure?”
“Yes. I’m not saying shut them down. We have a pinpoint we can use. The bomb is radiological, which means we only need to slow down the traffic, getting the Coast Guard to check each and every boat from Panama with radiological detection devices outside the port zone.”
“Okay, I’ll take that forward. I need to talk to the secretary of commerce and transportation about the impact, and I’ll need your analysis of how sure you are this will occur. We also need to approach this with an eye for the election before we do something rash—”
Kurt cut him off, saying, “Get me in touch with the president, right fucking now.”
He heard nothing for a moment, then, “Colonel Hale, you do not dictate the response of the United States. There are people to consult. Ramifications you can’t even begin to understand.”
“With all due respect, that’s horseshit. Get me the president, or I’ll hang your ass with the deaths.”
After a moment, he heard, “Stand by. I’ll see what I can do. He’s on a flight to North Carolina.”
Kurt hung up the phone, seeing George do the same on the extension. George said, “That went well, I think. Maybe I should start looking into a welding school.”
68
Tariq pulled into the driveway, amazed at the house he’d found for his band of killers. Located on the inland waterway of the Lafayette River, and only a stone’s throw from a zoological park, it was an upper-middle-class neighborhood with wide, leafy roads. It was older, with most of the houses being built in the seventies or eighties, but it was certainly not a ghetto, like the places he’d found for Anwar. Unlike those rentals, this time he’d focused on access to the port instead of the ability to blend into the population.
He’d located a four-bedroom ranch house near a boat ramp called Haven Creek, the perfect location. From there, it was a short trip up the waterway to a multitude of shipping interests, both US military and Norfolk’s international port terminal.
He pulled into the driveway, parking next to a trailer holding one Sea-Doo watercraft, large enough to carry three people.
Good.
He walked up to the front door and knocked. Nobody came. He rang the bell, then caught a shadow behind the drapes. The door opened, and he saw Jalal, furious.
Tariq said, “Hello, brother. It looks like everything is working out.”
Jalal grabbed his arm, jerking him inside and closing the door. He said, “What the hell were you thinking? Have you seen this neighborhood? We can’t go anywhere without someone staring at us.”
Tariq jerked his arm away and said, “It’s not that big of a deal. I did the same thing before our attacks in 2001.”
“This is after 2001, you jackass. I told you to find us something secure.”
Indignant, Tariq said, “No, you told me to find something close to the port, with a boat ramp. I did that.”
Jalal balled his fists and said, “Yes, yes, that was necessary, but not sufficient. You’ve put us in the heartland of suspicion. People look at us going to get groceries. We cannot last here.”
Tariq said, “You don’t have to. Even if the police come, they can’t search anything without a warrant. All you need to do is be polite. Trust me.”
Jalal shook his head, saying, “I’d rather be living in a ghetto in Tangier than here. It’s nerve-wracking.”
Tariq clapped him on the shoulder and said, “You’ll be back there soon enough. How goes the preparation?”
Jalal said, “Follow me.”
They went to the garage, and Tariq saw the two shahid completing the final work on their suicide vehicles. Two Sea-Doo performance watercraft with the front hatches open, wires and explosives crammed inside. He said, “Will this work?”
Jalal said, “Yes. They’re basically building a torpedo. We studied explosive books from the Internet, and they’ve crafted what’s called a shaped charge. When they ram the hull, instead of just exploding outward, it will drive a jet directly into the vessel, penetrating the hull. With both of them striking, it will sink a ship. It will cause the port to lock down.”
Tariq nodded, saying, “Good, good. What is your target?”
“Really, it’ll depend on the response from their port security. If they’re quick and start chasing us, I’ll have to commit early. I’d like to hit a cruise ship, but that terminal is farther along the waterway. Worst case, we’ll hit one of the warships at the Navy base.”
“That might make more of an impact than the cruise ship.”
Jalal said, “What about the other vessel? The one in Los Angeles?”
“It should have arrived today, so this will be perfect.”
“So you want us to attack tonight?”
“Yes. They’ll feel Los Angeles, then get hit here, on the East Coast. It will shut down their entire port system. It will cripple them.”
The two working on the watercraft stopped what they were doing. Tariq said, “You will be heroes. Martyrs that will live forever.”
They both went back to work, not saying a word. Tariq gave Jalal a quizzical look, and he said, “They do what they do for Islam. Not for your cheering. They aren’t some idiots recruited by the Islamic State.”
Tariq nodded, saying, “I meant no insult. I understand the sacrifice.”
“Do you?”
“Yes, I do. In fact, I’m on my own mission. I only came here to take the explosives for the third watercraft. The one that won’t be used now.”
“You? What are you going to do?”
“Not your concern. I just need the explosives.”
Jalal gazed back to the work being conducted and said, “I’m taking the third watercraft. I’m going to use it.”
“As a martyr?”
“Yes. It’s my destiny. I can’t ask my brothers to do what I would not.”
Flustered at Jalal’s statement, confused by the man’s sudden willingness to die, Tariq said, “But . . . that won’t work.”
Jalal looked at him with contempt, saying, “You bought the supplies, but they’re no longer yours. Your checkbook does not put you in charge. I will use them. I will lead the attack.”
Torn, wanting to call his father for advice, Tariq said, “Jalal, there is another attack in planning. The final one. I need those explosives.”
“Get more.”
Tariq’s phone vibrated, surprising him. He looked at the screen and saw it was his father. He held up a finger, saying, “One moment.”
Jalal turned away, disgusted.
Tariq answered, saying, “Yes, Father?”
“I have a report from the shipping company. Every boat going into Los Angeles is being stopped and searched. I need you to alert the asset.”
Tariq said, “What happened?”
“I have no idea. I’m in Morocco. All I know is that I’ve been notified about delays of shipping into Los Angeles. I did some investigation, and they’re stopping every ship from Panama, boarding them, then conducting some type of search. They somehow suspect the plan. Alert the asset and have him blow the container.”
“But that won’t do any good. If it’s at sea, it will do nothing.”
“It will do more than allowing the container to be found. It’s all we can hope for.”
Tariq thought through the ramifications, then said, “Okay, okay. We still have the Norfolk attack. I’m here now, and it’s going to work.”
“That’s not as important as your attack. Get the sleeper cell moving to Charleston. Have him blow the container ship and leave. Right now.”
“What if the ship is outside of cell phone range? Shouldn’t we check where it’s located?”
“It’s stacked up in a bunch of ships outside the port. I have the report of delays. It’s even
on the news. They’re searching each one, but it’s in range. I don’t know if they’ve already searched it and found the container, but every minute is a chance for it to be found. Call him.”
“Okay, okay, I will, but Jalal is saying he wants to be a shahid now. He wants to martyr himself with the final explosives.”
Jalal heard his name and stared at Tariq. Tariq held out a finger, waiting on the answer from his father.
“Give him the phone.”
Tariq said, “He wants to talk to you.”
Jalal took the phone, glaring at Tariq, amazed that he had to fight to give his life. Tariq watched the conversation, seeing Jalal shout, then mutter, then hand the phone back.
Tariq said, “Father?”
“He’s willing. Don’t ignore his sacrifice. Do the final attack. Don’t let us down.”
Tariq said, “I won’t father. I won’t.”
He hung up, realizing the “sacrifice” his father had mentioned was the fact that Jalal wouldn’t be allowed to kill himself. It was a world he had never fully understood, even as he leveraged it.
Jalal said, “You have an attack that will trump ours?”
“Maybe. Hopefully. It will be the capstone to all of our efforts.”
“Will you be the shahid on this?”
“It’s not a martyr attack, but I will give my life to make it happen, if necessary.”
Jalal nodded, then pointed at a box in the corner of the garage. “The extra detonators and explosives are in there.”
Tariq collected the box and turned to go. He reached the door and said, “Good luck tonight. May Allah be with you.”
Jalal said, “Insh’Allah, we will succeed. May he be with you as well.”
Tariq loaded the box in the trunk of his car, then sagged in the driver’s seat, wondering for the hundredth time how they’d been discovered. He had no idea, and it worried him. He was in the land of the Great Satan, and if they knew about the ship in Los Angeles, they might know about him. Make no mistake, no matter what boasts he gave, there was no way on earth he was willing to be a martyr.
He pulled out his phone, initiated the Wickr application, then decided to skip it. The conversation was too complex to do over text messaging. Anwar needed to hear his voice and needed to understand the necessity of the action, both in conducting the attack and in getting to South Carolina as soon as possible.
