“It’s sounding more and more feasible,” said Decker. “Still in long-shot territory, but under the right circumstances, I can see it.”
Harlow liked that Decker hadn’t jumped in feetfirst and that Rich had suggested an option that didn’t involve pitting Decker and Pierce against a small army. The chance of the next target location offering them the same opportunities and advantages as the last had were slim.
“We’ll know after Bernie’s reconnaissance run,” said Rich. “If we can neutralize the location without turning it into a suicide mission, I should be able to do enough damage to APEX here in the DC area to open a hole in the ground and permanently swallow them up. Send them straight back from whence they came.”
“Operation CLEAN SWEEP,” said Decker.
“I like the sound of that,” said Steele.
You’re not the only one.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Ezra Dalton placed the palm of her right hand on the biometric scanner and stared at the inset camera lens directly in front of her. Entry to the operations and analysis hub required verifying all five fingerprints, along with a successful facial recognition scan. The door clicked a few seconds later, allowing her to push the pneumatically assisted, reinforced door inward to reveal a tight square room with two small, mirrored windows situated just above thin rectangular slats. Gun portals.
The tiny antechamber served as a last line of defense in the near statistically impossible event that a hostile team or individual got past layer after redundant layer of security to reach this point—the only way in or out of the hub. Overkill for a good reason. The right intruder, with the right set of skills and stolen permissions, could unlock all of APEX’s past and present secrets from inside the hub. She repeated the biometric process on the next door, under the watchful eye of a heavily armed team, until she was granted access.
Once inside, she navigated the orderly grid of corridors to reach a featureless, numbered door with a palm scanner. The austere hallways had been empty, aside from a few unobtrusive guards tucked away in alcoves. Contrary to popular belief, outside of operations and analysis, the hub wasn’t a stadium-style beehive of constant, frantic activity like counterterrorism or operations centers in popular movies and television shows.
APEX’s success relied heavily on compartmentalization and secrecy; each project or stand-alone operation was run separately. Analysts and operations specialists worked on one project at a time until its completion or termination. Individuals were plucked from ongoing projects to temporarily staff stand-alone operations like Guthrie’s, always returning to their original assignments.
The staffing system limited APEX’s exposure in the unlikely event of a breach in trust and significantly cut down on office politics. One group had no idea how important their project was in the grand scheme of the Institute’s undertakings. Overseers with no stake in any particular operation or project deconflicted any competing interests. APEX had operated like this for close to twenty years without an internal hiccup. No external hiccups, either—until they ran afoul of Senator Steele and Ryan Decker.
Dalton verified her identity one more time and entered the compact office. Guthrie stood up the moment he saw her, the other two seasoned operatives remaining in their seats.
“Mr. Guthrie. We’re not that formal within operations. That’s more of an RSF-imposed formality,” said Dalton. “Any updates? I’m headed into a directors briefing. I’m sure the topic will come up.”
“I was just about to call you,” said Guthrie, who remained standing. “Still nothing on the vehicle. The team is looking into armored SUV rentals, but that will take a little time. We did match a known associate of Jared Hoffman and Anish Gupta to the driver that picked up Steele at the Frederick Municipal Airport, and we were able to track them, using traffic cam footage, to a Wendy’s near the airport. The drive-through camera gave us a clear enough image to work with. Sean. Can you pop the profile up on the screen?”
“Absolutely,” said the ops analyst, transferring the information to the massive widescreen monitor mounted to the wall behind Guthrie.
“Richard Farrington,” said Guthrie.
She shook her head. Guthrie had just confirmed what she’d suspected. Senator Steele had somehow managed to engage the services of the one group with the skills and potential to do some serious, long-lasting damage to APEX—with General Sanderson’s protégé, Richard Farrington, at the helm.
“Given Rich’s presence, we have to assume that a large portion of the organization is involved, which changes things significantly,” said Dalton. “You’ve read the file?”
“What there is of it,” said Guthrie. “It’s a particularly nasty crew.”
“Nasty but somewhat principled, which we have to take into account,” said Dalton. “This isn’t your typical mercenary group. Killing Senator Steele may not solve the problem. If she builds a postdeath clause into her contract with them, we’ll be living with this problem indefinitely, and she definitely has the resources to pull that off. They’ll keep coming after us until the money runs out—which is never.”
“Then we’ll need to focus on killing the entire group,” said Guthrie.
“It’s not that simple with them. Killing off the group currently assigned to Senator Steele would only buy us a little time. They’d send more, and we’d end up fighting a very costly and inconvenient guerilla war here in the US and abroad. Picture never starting your car again without worrying about an explosive device planted under your seat,” said Dalton. “We need to start thinking about capturing her, if possible. I’ll brief the directors and see if they agree.”
“I’ll work that into our operational plans as a priority objective as soon as you confirm their decision,” said Guthrie.
“Add it now,” said Dalton. “I don’t anticipate any pushback from the board.”
Especially with the SKYSTORM evacuation running ahead of schedule. If they could get the planes loaded up and underway without incident, they might be able to get the senator to call off her attack dogs. Especially if they had Steele as a captive audience.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
“Do you want the good news or the bad news?” asked Bernie.
Decker knew from the moment Bernie started that none of them were going to like what he had to report. You only posed this question when the bad far outweighed the good. The hum of the C-123’s powerful engines dominated the background of his audio connection.
“The good,” said Decker. “Since it shouldn’t take too long.”
“You know me all too well, Decker,” said Bernie. “Well, the good news is that we found the facility in question.”
When Bernie didn’t immediately continue, Decker muttered a few choice expletives. This promised to be worse than he thought.
“That bad?” said Senator Steele.
“I’m trying to remain objective until you can examine the imagery for yourselves,” said Bernie.
“You’re not doing a very good job,” said Decker.
“Figured I wasn’t,” said Bernie. “Anyway. You’re looking at a ten-thousand-foot, east-west-oriented runway wide enough to accommodate just about anything. Five sizable hangars line the north side of the runway across a decent-sized tarmac. A cluster of structures sit behind the hangars, comprised of everything from a few low-rise apartment buildings to a small factory and some warehouses. Solar panels on all of the rooftops. No transformers that I could see, so it’s fair to assume there’s a generator building to supplement the solar. Overall, it looks like a self-contained operation.”
“And the bad news?” said Pierce.
“Assuming you don’t have a flight of ground-attack-configured F-18 Super Hornets at your disposal, I don’t see how you’re going to do anything but annoy these folks,” said Bernie. “The airfield complex is surrounded by prairie land, providing little to no consistent or significant cover for at least fifteen miles on each side. My guess is it’s converted farmland. And it gets worse cl
oser to the facility. Flatter than a football field for a mile or two in every direction. They picked this spot for a reason. To keep the lookie-loos out and their secret in.”
“Sounds ideal for a tactical night jump,” said Decker. “We could land on one of the roofs or—”
“Solar panels,” said Harlow.
“Or somewhere inside the cluster of buildings,” said Decker. “Three a.m. landing. Scoop up the chutes and hide them.”
“Bernie could fly in and pick us up on the runway like the Mexico op,” said Pierce. “In and out with the photographic evidence. It’s almost a repeat.”
“Sounds solid to me,” said Rich.
“Let me walk you through the rest of the bad news and see if that changes any of your minds,” said Bernie. “Thermal and daylight imagery showed a platoon-sized force on site, in perimeter guard towers or actively patrolling the complex.”
“Could be people moving between buildings,” said Decker.
“I knew you’d say that, so I made two runs spaced apart by four hours. One at four a.m. The other at eight. The personnel configuration looked the same,” said Bernie. “On top of that, you’re probably looking at another platoon off duty.”
“And a separate quick-reaction force,” said Rich. “A dozen or so available twenty-four seven.”
“Yep. And did I mention the heavily armed vehicles?” said Bernie.
“Not yet,” said Decker.
“I counted six armored tactical vehicles. Not Humvees, but similar. All with heavy machine guns. And at least a dozen of those desert-patrol-vehicle dune buggy things. Heavily armed,” said Bernie. “Even if you somehow managed to land unobserved and get into the hangars to take pictures, there’s no way I’m pulling the Mexico runway trick. We’re dealing with trained professionals, not cartel guys holding AK-47s around corners and blindly firing.”
“You’re right. It’s not a viable option,” said Decker.
Bernie’s aircraft looked like swiss cheese after the Mexico operation. Landing at this airfield sounded more like a melted-cheese result.
“Bernie. Did you manage to see any of the planes?” asked Steele. “If they’re gone, there’s no reason to rack our brains trying to solve a near-impossible problem.”
“That’s a mix of good and bad news,” said Bernie. “We caught a glimpse into one of the hangars on the second trip. High angle, so we didn’t see too deep, but we definitely spotted the same type of Thrush aircraft that shot down the jet.”
“That’s good news,” said Steele. “Not that we can really do anything about it other than try to convince the authorities to investigate based on your pictures and Ms. Rohm’s testimony.”
“Plus the evidence from the wreckage,” said Harlow. “I mean, how hard could it be for an FAA investigator to determine that the plane was brought down by gunfire?”
“Sounds good on paper, but I don’t think we have the time. That’s the bad news,” said Bernie. “We spotted about four dozen shipping containers lined up to the west of the hangars, along with side-lifter semitrailers and a few of those massive forklift handlers. They’re packing up and moving out. Two trailers sat half-in, half-out of one of the hangars on the first pass. They were gone on the second.”
“Dammit. They’re going to slip through our fingers,” said Steele.
“Then we have to track the containers,” said Rich. “This could actually work out better for us. They’re obviously loading them up on a cargo ship. Most likely at a Gulf Coast port. We hit the ship and disable it. Maybe sink the damn thing.”
“But we have to find the ship first,” said Bernie. “And I can’t follow one of those semis from the airfield to Galveston, or wherever it’s headed. Contrary to the impression I may give everyone, I don’t have free rein over the skies. Air traffic controllers tend to get nervous when aircraft circle over cities or change flight patterns every thirty minutes—especially one this size.”
“What about running vehicle surveillance on one of the semis?” said Harlow. “Bernie could vector us to the semi when it reaches a highway. We take it from there.”
“That could work,” said Bernie. “Especially if you intercept on the interstate. No way you’d be able to pull that off on one of the state or county roads without tipping your hand. Unless you could stay five miles back.”
“The problem with vehicle surveillance is that it wouldn’t take much for an organization with APEX’s resources and reach to spoof or even take out our tail car,” said Pam. “I think we’re about as good as it gets when it comes to tailing vehicles, but unless APEX has just completely written off security, this won’t be as easy or safe as it sounds. And that’s not me backing out. I’m still in.”
“It sounds like the best option so far,” said Pierce.
“The only option,” said Steele.
“We could augment your vehicle security with some operatives,” said Rich. “Just in case.”
Joshua Keller, who had been fidgeting in his seat next to Mazzie for the past few minutes, finally spoke up.
“Why don’t we use a drone to magnetically attach a tracking device?” he said. “We can easily acquire the components needed to put one together. The one we have back in LA is a slightly modified off-the-shelf model. It zips in, attaches the tracker, and zips out, with Bernie guiding the drone’s approach from above.”
“The problem is we can’t get close enough. Even if we could safely slip within ten miles, which sounds like it might be pushing it given APEX’s security posture, it doesn’t give us the range,” said Decker.
Mazzie shot up from her seat, nearly knocking Joshua over.
“Wait! Wait! We can drop it from the aircraft,” she said. “Problem solved.”
They all stared at her, everyone thinking the same thing. How the hell was that going to work?
“I’m not tracking you,” said Rich.
“None of us are, but Mazzie races drones semiprofessionally—so I learned the other day. The floor is yours,” said Decker.
“It sounds crazy, but I read about this Russian guy that flew an off-the-shelf drone with a few battery modifications up to thirty-three thousand feet and back. The whole flight took twenty-six minutes. Twenty to get up to altitude. Six to get back. You can watch the whole thing. He uploaded the entire trip’s drone feed to YouTube. We won’t even need to make the battery modifications, because he used most of the battery power to reach altitude. Drew like one amp coming back down in a controlled free-fall descent. I know I can do this.”
“Doesn’t sound crazy to me at all,” said Rich. “I’m getting a nod from my resident drone expert.”
“Then that’s the plan,” said Decker.
“There’s only one problem,” said Mazzie. “Launching the drone from the aircraft at twenty thousand feet—or any altitude. The drone might break apart. Unless you can significantly slow down the plane.”
Decker glanced at Pierce, shaking his head. They both knew what this meant for whoever was on board that aircraft when they launched the drone. There was only one way to essentially stop an aircraft’s forward motion in midflight, and it wasn’t something you wanted to experience more than once in life. If that.
“Leave that to me,” said Bernie. “But we should probably deploy two drones to improve the odds of getting at least one out intact.”
“Looks like Mazzie and Josh are going on a field trip,” said Harlow.
“How soon do you see this happening?” asked Steele.
The deep hum of the aircraft engines cut in. “It’s a seven-and-a-half-hour trip to the same airfield we used before in Redding. I need to refuel somewhere sort of out of the way. This thing tends to attract a lot of attention. So I should be able to pick you up about ten hours from now.”
“Perfect. That’ll give us time to gather up what we need for the drone. One of us can accompany Josh and Mazzie on the flight to help with the launch,” said Decker. “Since that’s going to be so much fun.”
“Why don’t I like
the sound of that?” asked Joshua.
Pierce chuckled.
“What did I miss?” asked Harlow.
“Nothing. But you’ll see for yourself soon enough,” said Bernie. “Given the rate at which they’re moving those shipping containers, I strongly suggest that the entire team comes along. We’ll head to my remote operating field in Oklahoma after attaching the tracker and get you geared up for whatever’s next. My guess is they’re headed to Houston or New Orleans, so we’ll need to move fast.”
“You’re right,” said Decker. “We’ll bring everyone we might need.”
He squeezed Harlow’s hand. Neither of them had expected to separate this soon.
Unexpectedly, she leaned over and whispered, “You’re not getting rid of me that easily. I want to know what you two were chuckling about.”
She hated flying, which made this even more surprising.
He whispered back, “You do remember we’re talking about flying, right? Not driving?”
“How much worse can it be than that last flight with Bernie?”
“Good point,” he said, letting it go there.
She had no idea what was in store for them all. Just the thought of it made his palms sweat.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
The moment the teleconference ended, they decided who would go and who would stay in Alderpoint. Some of the choices had been obvious. Sophia, Jessica, and Sandra immediately opted to remain behind and watch over the flock. Katie put up a fight to go but was ultimately convinced by Pam to stay at the campsite. Next to Pam, who had the most tactical expertise, she was the handiest with a firearm and improvised tactics. If things somehow went sideways in Alderpoint, Katie would be their best bet to organize and execute a defense—or direct their escape.
Harlow had made her wish clear, and Decker wasn’t about to suggest she rethink it. She’d more than earned the right to be on the team that would try to strike a mortal blow against APEX. In all truth, Steele and Decker owed this moment to Harlow, who had risked everything to give him, a total stranger at the time, a second chance at redemption and a seminormal life. That and she could hold her own in a tight squeeze. Decker also needed her to keep him from making a bad decision. He tended to exercise far better judgment when she was around, offering him good advice.
Skystorm (Ryan Decker) Page 17
