Tom said, “You’re certain your diversion isn’t going to sink my dad’s first command?”
Veyron nodded, confidently. “Every submariner on board this submarine can read these gauges and will know how to correct it. Nothing’s locked out. The venting valves run throughout the entire hull, so that any one of them can be used to correct the problem.
“All right,” Sam agreed. “Let’s go then before they work it out.”
Sam, Tom, Veyron, and finally Genevieve donned the red RFD Beaufort SEIE Mark 11 – AKA submarine escape immersion equipment – and climbed up the ladder into the aft emergency escape lock-out trunk.
Already the submarine had started to level out. Genevieve was the last one up the ladder. Near the kitchen, the bulkhead door opened and one of the submariner’s raced through. Tom gripped Genevieve’s hand, quickly jerking her into the lock-out trunk.
Veyron closed the water-tight door.
Beneath them, someone tried to open it again, but Tom had already pulled the latch, flooding the small compartment. It filled quickly. When the internal pressure equalized with the outer seawater, the lock-out trunk hatch opened.
All four of them raced to the surface at a rate of roughly ten feet per second. Sam exhaled the entire time.
One by one, all four of them broached the surface of the water, their red SEIE suits ballooning on top of the ocean waves.
Matthew and Elise had plucked all four of them out of the water within minutes, and the Maria Helena was soon motoring at full speed to the closest harbor.
Sam grinned. “Thanks for pulling off the impossible. Now let’s go find out what in the world this was all about.”
Tom sighed heavily. “Sorry we might never know. We couldn’t find the metallic case on the USS Jimmy Carter. It must be lost for good by now.”
Sam laughed long and hard, far too amused for the situation they were in. He asked, “Tom, didn’t you notice it before…”
“Notice what?”
“Remember when the SEALs blew your emergency ballast sending you racing to the surface?”
“Of course.”
“Before they did, I dropped the case into your carry pouch on the back of your Exosuit. I thought you knew?”
“Nope.” It was Tom’s turn to smile. “Well, that’s good, then. That means it’s now time to find the truth.”
Chapter Fifty-Four
On Board the Maria Helena
Sam examined the metallic case. It had been state of the art at the time of the Clarion Call’s scuttling. Its titanium alloy was strong and light, keeping the contents well protected from the elements – even at a depth of 700 feet.
He took it to the engineering bay on the second level below deck, his friends following behind him like a row of ducklings. Fixing the case to a workbench using a large vice, Veyron used one of his drilling tools to achieve what two decades on the seabed could not – and opened the case.
There was a single folder, labelled: Clarion Call. Ship’s manifest.
Sam opened it.
On the first page, was a handwritten note, addressed to a senator named Peter Grzonkowski.
The name sounded familiar to Sam, but he couldn’t quite place it.
He read the first line.
Dear Senator, Peter Grzonkowski,
As requested, here is the proof you needed.
After you have taken possession of the shipping manifest, I’m going to go to ground and disappear until this thing blows over. As you can appreciate, this information is going to upset many powerful people. A lot of people from around the world – including my own brother and our government – are going to want to see blood.
So be careful.
Good luck.
Joseph Finney
Sam opened the binder and quickly ran his eyes across the first few pages. He didn’t go far. Instead, he stopped. His heart pounded in his ears, his throat constricted.
The truth was so startling simple, yet shatteringly clear in its validity. The world would never be the same once it was out.
How did the U.S. government think they had a right to withhold this information?
Sam swallowed hard.
More importantly, did he have the right to tell it?
He closed the manifest with a defiant snap, securing the metallic case.
Tom met his eye, and asked, “What is it?”
Sam shook his head. “How did they possibly get away with it so long?”
“What?”
“No wonder the Navy didn’t want us to reveal the truth!” Sam said, in awe. Instead of answering Tom, he turned to Elise. “Does the name, Senator Peter Grzonkowski mean anything to you?”
“Do you mean, Congressman Peter Grzonkowski from Illinois?”
“Yeah that might be him.” Sam pursed his lips, squeezing his eyes shut. “Where have I heard that name recently?”
Without hesitation, Elise said, “He was with Congresswoman Bledes when she was shot dead, while trying to escape the capital. I believe she was with Congressmen Grzonkowski and Carmichael at the time, along with three Federal agents.”
Sam stood up. “We have to go – now.”
“Why?” Elise asked.
Sam’s eyes focused on Genevieve. “Genevieve, get the rotor turning on the Sea King.”
Genevieve nodded and immediately left, without asking for a reason.
Sam turned to Tom. “Go grab another MP5 for each of us and meet me on the helipad.”
Tom said, “I’m on it!”
Elise repeated the question. “Why?”
Sam looked at her determined and fixed violet eyes. “Sorry, Elise. What was the question?”
She smiled. “What does this have to do with Congresswoman Bledes?”
“Absolutely nothing. Congresswoman Bledes was never the target.”
“Who was?”
Sam ground his teeth. With a cold, steely voice, he said, “Congressman Peter Grzonkowski.”
Elise asked, “Where are you going?”
“To protect the truth!”
“How?”
Sam took a deep breath. “By retrieving the Congressman before someone kills him.”
Chapter Fifty-Five
The Sea King helicopter took off, heading due west, toward Washington, D.C. The sea below appeared calm ultramarine blue with small white ripples, where the Maria Helena motored toward Chesapeake Bay. Inside, Sam picked up his cell phone and dialed Alex Goodson’s number.
Alex picked up on the first ring. “Hi, Mr. Reilly. How was your dive?”
“Very informative,” Sam replied. “Alex, I know the truth. I know what Werner Heisenberg did.”
Alex didn’t reply, instead there was only the garbled static of his cell phone.
Sam said, “Did you hear me, Alex? I said, I know what Werner Heisenberg did.”
“I’m sorry, Sam,” Alex said, his voice calm, yet also a bit sad. Almost like a kid being told it was too late to get an ice-cream cone, because the truck had just driven off. “I can’t quite hear you. I’m afraid it’s probably a bit too late for you to come over and play, anyway. I’m about to finish the game. Thanks for the offer, though.”
Sam tasted bile in his throat. His breathing became uneven, his nostrils flared. “It was never about Congresswoman Bledes. They were trying to kill Congressman Peter Grzonkowski! He’s the only one who knows the whole truth. They’re going to kill him!”
“Who?”
“Peter Grzonkowski!”
“Never heard of him, Sam,” Alex said, but there was no conviction in his voice. “I’m sorry, can I call you back? I’m at a really interesting part of my game. I’m afraid those names don’t help anymore.”
“No. Peter Grzonkowski can make this right!”
“No, he can’t. It’s too late now. The game’s nearly over!”
“Wait!” Sam yelled. “I can fix this.”
But it didn’t matter. The connection had ended.
Tom worked his way through checking the
two MP5 submachineguns they brought with them. He cocked his head to the left and made a wry smile. “That didn’t sound like it went too well.”
“It didn’t.”
“What do you want to do about it?”
Sam set his jaw and gripped his MP5. “We’re just going to have to save Congressman Grzonkowski ourselves.”
Chapter Fifty-Six
Pentagon Command Center
The Secretary of Defense stared at the image of Washington, D.C. taken via their high-altitude surveillance drone.
A large contingent of tanks and armored personnel carriers were heading east along the Curtis Memorial Parkway toward the Theodore Roosevelt Bridge. She increased the magnification and noticed that they were accompanied by two teams of special forces.
They are going to attempt to breach the capital!
She picked up the phone – a direct line to the Joint Chiefs of Staff in the Presidential Operational Command Center beneath the White House.
Her eyes fixed on the fast-moving war machines heading toward her capital. A man answered on the first ring. “Yes?”
Normally calm and unruffled, the Secretary was seriously pissed off. Her no-nonsense voice barked, “Who the hell gave the damned order to breach?”
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Congressman Peter Grzonkowski stared out the giant glass windows.
He was standing on the fourth floor of the United States Peace Institute, where he and his colleagues had taken refuge. He had to laugh at the irony of being bunkered down in such a place during what was shaping up to be potentially the worst attack on U.S. soil since winning Independence from the British Empire on July 4, 1776.
He wasn’t afraid to die. His father, a World War II Veteran, had instilled in him the devout and sacred belief, in the doctrine of self-sacrifice and service to his country. With a loving wife, and three children, he certainly didn’t seek his demise, but nor was he going to dwell on that which he couldn’t control.
Instead, he feared the past – and more importantly, how it would affect the future.
Did someone know that he’d met with Joseph Finney all those years ago?
He closed his eyes, tasting bile in his mouth. He searched his own conscience, and his throat constricted by what he saw. It wasn’t fear. It was remorse, for not being true to a friend.
Once Joseph Finney disappeared, all he could do was assume the worst – that someone had killed him to prevent the truth from becoming known. He should have gone on to reveal what he knew. To open up a Congressional Hearing.
But without evidence, what choice did I ever really have?
He opened his eyes and promised himself that if he survived the attack on his nation’s capital, he would arrange a full Congressional Inquest into what happened during those dark days at the end of World War II. That was when a new – albeit much more clandestine – war was only just beginning.
His eyes swept the landscape ahead from left to right. The Potomac River glistened in the warm summer’s day. Birdlife, blissfully unaware of the troubled world around them, played in the water between the Arlington Memorial Bridge and the Theodore Roosevelt Bridge.
The bridge – normally full of joggers, walkers, and tourists, was now deathly empty.
His view settled on the Curtis Memorial Parkway in the distance and his lips curled into an upward smile. He felt his heart race and exhaled a deep breath, because a large convoy of military vehicles were approaching.
And that meant, the good guys were finally coming.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Alex Goodson sat down at his gaming station.
Was it all, really too late?
He un-paused his game and thought about what Sam Reilly had told him. His breathing was even. His pulse, steady. His eyebrows narrowed as he studied the gaming map toward the top-left hand corner. It provided an almost cartoonish image of a small urban city. The one he focused on was named, Washington, D.C.
His eyes swept the entire map, from Capitol Hill through to the Potomac River, landing on a large convoy of military tanks and armored personnel carriers.
Had it gone too far to quit?
If he’d been normal, his adrenal system would have gone into overdrive at this point. His natural fight or flight response would be taking over, clouding his judgement, and helping him act with sharp and immediate instincts.
But Alex wasn’t normal. Never had been. Instead, he felt calm. His piercing blue eyes fixed on the Theodore Roosevelt Bridge with an icy conviction. He adeptly moved his players into place, quickly, setting everything up for whatever may be.
The tanks were getting closer.
There was still time to stop.
From the east, a civilian Sea King helicopter was flying over Capitol Hill.
Alex sighed.
He was never going to quit. It just wasn’t the way he played the game. Never was. He scrolled down on his computer gaming console until he reached what he wanted. It showed a cartoonish image of a coyote depressing a T-shaped dynamite detonator from Wile E. Coyote and the Road Runner.
Alex clicked on the image.
A warning message came up on the screen – ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO DETONATE?
Alex grinned and pressed enter.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
The Sea King had her nose angled downward taking off some altitude in preparation for landing. Sam studied the military convoy approaching the Theodore Roosevelt Bridge. What the hell are they thinking? He picked up his cell phone and frantically tried to call the Secretary of Defense.
She answered the call, and he didn’t wait to speak. “You have to stop the convoy from breaching the city! I need more time!”
“I’m sorry, Sam. There is no more time. I can’t stop them. Someone from the Joint Chiefs of Staff has given the order and the President has approved it.”
“Alex isn’t going to respond well to breaking the rules.”
“You still think it’s him, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s hope you’re right,” she said. “We have a team of FBI agents working surveillance at his house right now. The kids just playing some stupid computer game.”
“Oh yeah, what’s the name of the game?”
“How the hell would I know, Sam? Last report, he was playing some sort of nerdy urban warfare game. There was a river and a bridge and tanks…” she broke off mid-sentence and swore. “I’ve got to get someone to stop him!”
Sam didn’t know if the Secretary of Defense was able to get through to the commander of the armored convoy or not, but it no longer mattered. Genevieve spotted the curved sail-shaped roof of the United States Institute of Peace. On the east rooftop, were the speckled shapes of five men. The Secretary of Defense had already told them to expect a ride from the roof.
Genevieve dipped the Sea King’s nose, and then brought it to a hover just over the western edge of the roof top. In the back, Tom swung the sliding doors open and one by one each of the four men climbed on board.
“Everyone’s in!” Tom shouted.
Genevieve didn’t have to be told twice. She pushed her right foot on the anti-torque pedal. The helicopter rotated sharply on its axis, so that her windshield now faced the Potomac.
Sam exhaled a sigh of relief. They had retrieved Congressman Peter Grzonkowski. With him safe, and the secrets he knew capable of exposure, he was confident Alex would withdraw the threat to end the game.
An instant later, there was a loud explosion, followed by many more.
Every bridge along the Potomac through to the Anacostia, from the Francis Scott Key Bridge to the John Phillip Sousa exploded in a mass of fire and debris. The structural roads collapsed.
Next to him, Genevieve opened the Sea King’s throttle to full, and yanked the collective up. The helicopter climbed rapidly. Heat from the multiple explosions could be felt through the windshield. Sam ran his eyes across the burning remains of the capital. More than a hundred smaller explosions were taking place.
As the helicopter climbed, he noticed that for the most part, the ordnance set were more for show than actual damage. Throughout the capital buildings, thick purple smoke rose, shrouding the entire area in darkness.
Genevieve set a course for the Pentagon.
Sam looked back over his shoulder. “Congressman Peter Grzonkowski?”
“Yes, sir,” came a congenial reply. “You must be Sam Reilly.”
“That’s me.” Sam beamed with pleasure. “Next to you is Tom, and your pilot today is Genevieve.”
The Congressman smiled. “Not that I’m complaining, but I have to ask, why me? Why did you come get me?”
Sam grinned. “I have a letter and a ship’s manifest from the Clarion Call that’s been waiting a long time to reach you.”
Chapter Sixty
Alex Goodson’s Apartment, Manhattan
Sam Reilly followed the FBI Special Weapons and Tactics team into the building.
They moved quickly, running up the main stairs at the front and securing the entire building within minutes. Alex Goodson was home by himself. He didn’t put up any resistance. In fact, because he was wearing gaming headphones and was absorbed in his video game, he didn’t realize that a SWAT team had invaded the privacy of his house until he was in handcuffs.
Alex was already in his pajamas but didn’t appear disturbed or surprised by the intrusion of some thirty or more FBI agents. He caught Sam’s eye. “Hey, Mr. Reilly, didn’t I tell you it was probably too late to play another game?”
“Afraid this isn’t about games,” Sam replied.
Alex smiled, but wore a vacant expression of insouciance. “Oh yeah. What’s this about?”
A federal agent tightened the handcuffs until they dug into Alex’s wrist. The young man didn’t react. “The terrorist attack on Washington, D.C.”
“Hey, you caught someone did you?” Alex looked at Sam. “I always knew you had it in you. You’re a smart guy, Mr. Reilly. So, who was the terrorist? I mean, who would do such a terrible thing, like threaten our nation’s capital?”
The Heisenberg Legacy (Sam Reilly Book 11) Page 19
