CHAPTER 94
GRAB HER
Little sat in the unmarked car across the street from the brownstone. He sipped the hot cup of coffee Swan had given him. He always loved coffee. The rich aroma and the slightly bitter taste. It was definitely his drug of choice. So the three of them, Swan, Hamed and Little, sat silently watching the house across the street. Little knew from experience that stakeouts could take hours and often produce no results. He was never a patient man but had endured many long days and nights just like this when he worked his way up at the LAPD, then FBI and now Homeland. But this time, he didn’t have hours. He needed their pursuit to move fast or it might be too late.
At 7:30, they sat, watched and waited. Little could see his warm breath fog the passenger window on this cool early summer evening. It was still light outside—that nice yellow, dappled light during what photographers called the golden hour, just before dark. He lowered his window a bit and wiped the fog off the glass with the right cuff of his jacket. Just then, they saw a young woman emerge from the front door of the house in running gear. She did a few quick stretches, pulling each ankle up and behind her, one at a time. Then she started running slowly toward the river.
“Let’s follow her. Leave the other guys here. Not too close. She’s on foot, so we can give her some space so as not to spook her,” Little said.
Swan put the car in gear and did a U-turn, keeping about seventy yards behind the woman. The young woman made a right onto the bike path along the Charles and picked up speed. Swan made a right onto Memorial Drive, parallel to the bike path, to follow. “There’s a lot of traffic and it’s moving fast. There’s no parking on this stretch, so we can’t stop. If we creep along at her pace, we’ll really stand out.”
“Pull into that driveway at the end of the park ahead of her and wait.”
Swan did as Little instructed and pulled into the driveway near the end of JFK park. They had to crane their necks to look back. She was about fifty yards behind their parked position. “What do you want me to do when she catches up to us?”
“Grab her,” Little said.
CHAPTER 95
ROUTINE INSPECTION
After waiting for the shift change, I rejoined Al, Tilson, and Gary. We walked down a longer hall and took the elevator down below ground. We entered a room full of pipes and meters with thin, hissing streams of steam escaping valves in several places around the room. A few men sat at consoles that looked like something out of the 60s space program, old CRT screens and lots of switches and red buttons.
We approached a small desk and a middle-aged, bespeckled man looked up. “Director Tilson, what are you doing in the dungeon?”
Tilson cleared his throat. “Haverman, this is Al, Gary and Sam from the NRC. They’re doing a routine inspection and talking to some of our people. Of course, I said they had to meet you.”
Al lifted her clipboard to confirm the cover. “Mr. Haverman, I’m Inspector Favor. If you don’t mind, I’d like to ask you a few questions.” She paused. No objection. “How long have you been working here at Indian Point?”
“Eight years, six months and ten days.”
“Haverman’s pretty precise,” Tilson said. “He has to be. He’s in charge of the raw incoming nuclear material and storage. The environment has to be closely monitored and controlled.”
Al took notes on her clipboard and pointed at some of the dials and meters in front of Haverman. “I see. What happens if conditions move outside the green into the red zone?”
“We don’t let that happen. But if it did, after sixty seconds, it would trigger backup units. If that failed after three minutes, the reactors would automatically shut down.”
“Has that ever happened?”
“Not while I’ve been here.”
Now Al and I were carefully watching Haverman’s face. “If someone, not you of course, wanted to override the backup and automatic shutdown, could they do it from here?”
“Not that I know of. I believe it’s meant to be a fail-safe system that on the one hand, doesn’t rely on human intervention and on the other hand, prevents tampering.” No change in expression.
“Thank you, Mr. Haverman. You’ve been very helpful.”
Clearly he was not our guy. Only one was left on the list.
CHAPTER 96
PICK UP
Little stepped out of the unmarked car. He took off his jacket and tie and threw them on the seat. Then he rolled up his sleeves. “It’s hard to blend in here, but we need to pick her up with as little attention as possible. Get ready to move.”
Little jogged across Mem Drive, dodging traffic, to the bike path just as Hadar was approaching. “Hello ma’am. May I speak with you for a moment?” He pulled out his wallet, flipping it open to show her his DHS ID. She stared blankly, then looked up at his face. He’d seen that look before. She turned to run, but Little grabbed her upper arm tightly. He really didn’t want to make a scene.
Swan backed out of the JFK Park driveway, reached through her open window and put a turret light on top of the car. Traffic slowed and she made a quick U-turn on Mem Drive and pulled beside Little and Hadar. Hadar was strong and tried to pull away, but Little had 100 pounds on her. He had no time for cuffs or this could get out of hand. People sitting on the lawn or passing by were already staring at them. He grabbed both her arms and shoved her roughly into the back seat of the car. Hamed was sitting in the back left and grabbed Michelle to pull her inside and flex-cuff her. She wriggled, kicked the back of the front seat. Hamed cuffed her feet, but she still kicked with both feet. Clearly frustrated, he finally hit her in the face with a hard right hook and she went limp.
Little got back in the front seat. Swan pulled the turret light back inside the car and sped off, turning onto Soldiers Field Road toward Boston. “She was feisty, but I’m not sure you had to do that,” Little said looking over his left shoulder at Hamed. He could smell the sweet-sour odor of sweat. He wasn’t sure if it was Hamed or the woman. “Don’t you guys carry tranqs or Tasers with you?”
“Yeah, you sit here with a fighting suspect and try pulling out a needle or a Taser. This was just faster. She’ll have a black eye, but she’ll be fine.” He slipped a cloth hood over her head and tied it loosely, just protocol for potential terrorists.
Little had to think. Time was gnawing at him. Ten to twenty minutes to Boston depending on traffic. He could use a turret light to speed that up or was there a place nearby where they could interrogate her? Little had gone to Boston College Law School years ago, so he knew the area pretty well. He had to move faster. “Take this right, the Cambridge Street Exit and then go left over the bridge. Put on the turret light. Anwar, take her picture and send it in. We need to know who we’re talking to.”
Swan did as she was told and took a hard swerve from the left lane cutting off traffic to catch the right lane exit in time. She could hear the screech of cars braking behind her. This was exciting. She hardly ever got to use her turret light and do real emergency type stuff. “Where to?”
“Once you get over the bridge, you’ll be on River Street. About ten blocks up, there’s a big intersection. You’ll make a hard left on Western and the Police Sexual Assault Unit will be immediately on your right. Park in front. Keep the turret light going all the way.”
Michelle began to stir in the back seat, She was awake but didn’t seem to have much fight left in her. “Where am I? Why are my eyes covered?”
Hamed held her arm gently to steady her. “Ma’am, you’re being held for questioning on a national security matter. We’ll remove the hood shortly.”
“Aren’t you going to read me my rights or something? I want to make a call.”
“For now, you aren’t being accused of a crime. Besides this is a matter of national security. We just want to ask you some questions.” Swan pulled the car into a “Reserved—Official Use” spot in front of the police station. “Little, hood or no hood?”
Little had to think about that. A hoode
d suspect would draw attention. He had quickly picked the Sexual Assault Unit because hauling somebody in there would attract less attention and it was close. If there were any press or even pedestrians with cellphone cameras, he couldn’t afford pictures. “Do you have a towel or something like that in the car that we can use instead of the hood?”
“Yeah, towel in the trunk.”
“Good, use that. It looks less scary than a hood. C’mon move it.” Hamed grabbed a white towel from the trunk, pulled the hood off Hadar and threw the towel over her head.
“What did you do, clean a septic tank with that rag? Jeez,” Swan said.
“It was in with some of my fishing equipment. Sorry, it’s all I had. So are you gonna just yank my chain or get this done?”
Little liked these two. They were serious about the work but had a good, if not cop-grim, sense of humor. A good combination. They pulled Hadar, with the towel on her head and still in running gear, from the car and guided her inside. She was still unsteady, but Hamed held her arm both for support and security. They approached the desk sergeant. Little pulled out his ID. “We need an interview room now.”
The Asian man in uniform behind the desk said, “Can I ask what this is about?”
“Nope, but you can have your captain call my office. Tell them I’m here and mention ‘the Leopard.’” Little slipped his card toward the sergeant.
The desk sergeant gave Little a quizzical stare and looked down at his blotter. Without looking up, he pointed to the left. “Number 3 down the hall.” Under his breath as the group walked down the hall, he mumbled, “Fuckin’ Homeland.”
CHAPTER 97
FACETIME
With Tilson in the lead, we went back upstairs and walked for about five minutes until we reached the lobby. He then led us through the front door, down the steps and along a path around the back of the main building.
My phone rang. We were finally above ground and outdoors so I had a signal. I looked down and it was Frank calling. I swiped the phone and Frank’s face, his virtual face, appeared. “Hi Sam. One limitation of my new superpowers is that I can’t hear face-to-face conversations unless they’re bugged. How’s it going?”
“No luck so far. We have a list built on certain criteria, length of service, time of shift, etc.”
“I know about that. That’s digital. Besides, who do you think got Gary that list so quickly?”
“OK. I should know better than to doubt your superpowers. We’re on our way to interview the last person on the list, Benjamin Yolkum. We’re outside the admin building walking to another building. Greg, where are we going?”
“We’re headed to our nuclear waste facility. It’s where all the spent fuel goes for safe storage before it’s shipped out.”
Frank, talking to me, said, “Ask him when was the last time spent fuel was shipped out and how much is there?”
I asked and Tilson said, “I’m not sure, but we’ll find out. Yolkum is in charge of this stuff.”
Frank whispered, “Sam, remember the nuclear disaster in Japan in 2011?”
“Yes. What about it?”
“There was a serious secondary problem from seawater flooding the power plant.”
“OK, I’ll bite. Where was the problem?”
“The other potential disaster was from seawater getting into the nuclear waste storage. Granted they had been negligent in improper storage and letting the nuclear waste accumulate, but it was a single point of failure that nobody anticipated. Actually, it’s more complicated than that. The spent fuel was kept in cooling ponds that were low on water, but no need to get too technical. The reactors themselves automatically shut down. But the nuclear waste was at full capacity and near the boiling point. If they had not been lucky enough to have extra cooling water from their reactor #4, the spent fuel could have blown.”
“Spent fuel. That’s where we’re going. Uh, oh.”
CHAPTER 98
INTERROGATION
Hamed removed the towel from Hadar’s head and cut off the cuffs on her hands and feet. Sitting in the standard-issue metal chair, she rubbed her sore wrists. She was covered in sweat, but had goosebumps from the air conditioning turned too high. They kept interrogation rooms extra cold on purpose. It was part of the routine to help break down suspects. Swan stood by the door, hands behind her back. Little sat across from Hadar, a gray metal table bolted to the floor between them. He slid a plastic Poland Springs water bottle across the table to her. She took a couple of big gulps and poured the rest over her head. Hamed handed the towel to her. She looked at it, wrinkled her nose, and then wiped her face and arms. Then she threw it hard at Hamed. “Get that disgusting thing away from me. Can I have some ice for this?” she said, pointing to her swelling eye.
“I’ll get it,” Swan said and slipped out the door.
Little ignored the drama and looked down at his phone to see her visa application and picture. “Ms. Hadar. We are holding you here on an urgent matter involving national security. I apologize for the rough handling and my partner’s actions. It was important that we move quickly. I see you are here on a visa studying at MIT. Top of your class. Can you tell me what you were doing at the house on JFK Street?”
“I live there. I’d like to speak to an attorney or make a call.”
“As Agent Hamed said, we only want to ask a few questions. Besides, we don’t have time for an attorney.”
“What do you mean no time for an attorney? This is the US I have rights.”
Little drummed his fingers on the metal table. The sound reverberated in the room. “Ms. Hadar, I’d like to keep this friendly and have your cooperation. But let me remind you that you are not a citizen and you are not entitled to the rights of a US citizen. We can easily have you deported or even put you in a dark cell and lose the key. I don’t want to do that. I just want your help, and I suspect you know why it’s a matter of national security.”
Hadar folded her arms and tightened her lips. She stared defiantly at Little. The stick was not working. No time for carrots. Maybe a bigger stick. “I see that you have family living just outside Mecca.” Her eyes flickered. “Your father, mother, brother and sisters. We believe they may be in some danger. So we have dispatched a couple of our local undercover agents to meet with them.” He let that sink in.
Silence. She dropped her arms by her side and slumped in the chair. “This is all too much. Just too much.”
“What is? What are you talking about?”
“He threatens my family. Now you make a not so veiled threat. I just wanted to come here, get my degree and do something positive with my life. It’s not easy being a Muslim woman in my culture, seeking an education to try to better yourself and your family.”
“I understand. Who’s the man threatening your family?”
“I don’t think you understand. You couldn’t possibly understand. You are a privileged man who is lucky enough to be a citizen of a privileged country. Being a white male, you enjoy the highest status. So don’t tell me you understand.”
“You’re right. It’s just something meaningless I say routinely. But as an adopted child who went from foster home to foster home, I would not say I was privileged. Like you, I had to overcome a lot of obstacles to get where I am and to be who I am today. Maybe not the same as your experience, but maybe not as different as you think.”
Swan returned and handed Hadar the ice pack. She held it above her eye. Her expression softened a little. Some glint of recognition and a decision. “Look, I do have important information. I don’t think you’ll torture me. I don’t believe you do that anymore. If you did, then all is lost anyway. You don’t have the time to try to forcibly get it out of me.”
“You’re right. So what do you want?”
“I want my family not to continue to be a ping pong ball in your battles. You say you have agents on the way to my family. Get them safely out of the country and give them protection. Once I know they are safe, I’ll give you what you want.”
“I can do that and I’ll do you one better. I’ll make sure you are safe as well, but I need something to go on right now. We’re running out of time.”
“I understand,” she said with a wry smile and let it sink in. “I can tell you that if I’m not back at the house before 11:00 PM tonight, he’ll know something’s up. I also know that if you raid the house, he has fail-safes in place that will execute his plan with or without us.”
“You mean LaSalam, the Leopard, right?”
“I only know him as Rupert.”
“That’s not his real name. His real name is Ahmed LaSalam and he is a dangerous, a very dangerous, threat to our nation. So what’s the plan?”
“I can only tell you that we are there to run computers and set off some kind of nuclear event at multiple locations sometime after midnight. If I don’t return or you raid the house, it will probably happen anyway.”
“Wow, so that’s it,” Swan exclaimed. She and Hamed had not been fully read in before.
Hamed turned ashen white. “Excuse me.” He left the room, presumably to throw up.
Little banged his palm on the table, like a gavel calling the proceedings to order. “Let’s focus. How do we know you’re telling the truth?”
“You’re getting my family. What choice do I have? Look, send me back to the house. Text me when my family is safe. Then I want to call and speak to my father to confirm they are OK. If you do that, I believe I can stop his plan at the 11th hour and then give you a chance to capture him.”
“I might believe you. But as you say, what choice do I have? My agents say they can be to your family around midnight our time. Just know that if you fail, we will probably have your family and all bets are off.”
Not So Dead: A Sam Sunborn Novel Page 21
