The Harvest

by John David Krygelski

  Synchronized perfectly, the driver-side and passenger-side doors of all seven trucks opened, the two men in each cab getting out of their truck and walking to the rear door. With the flipping of the latches, seven doors in seven states rolled up nearly in unison. The additional team members scrambled out, pulling the silver-colored blankets with them onto the pavement.

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  A lone man, watching through binoculars from the top of a nearby building in Atlanta, saw the men rapidly unfolding the silver blanket and running toward the U-Haul. Letting the binoculars drop on their strap against his chest, he punched the speed-dial number, listening anxiously for the connection to be made. With his other hand, he hit the speed-dial number for his boss on a second phone. Finally, he heard the click, indicating the connection was about to be made to the detonator cell phone, and then heard the ring tone produced by the carrier. Not seeing an explosion from the parking lot below, he dropped the first cell phone and lifted the binoculars back to his eyes in time to see the U-Haul completely engulfed by the silver blanket. Cursing his own slowness, he heard a voice answer on his other phone. Without hesitation, he shouted, “BLOW UP THE OTHERS!”

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  The Miami team, blocking the aisle, was also scrambling to unfurl the blanket. Shouting at each other, they began twisting it around so they could pull it over the target, when a pickup truck, driving too fast for a parking lot, suddenly came down the lane. The driver slammed on his brakes and stopped without hitting any of the team. Still trying desperately to complete their assignment, they ignored the pickup and started to pull the blanket up, only to find it was trapped under the front wheel of the truck. Shouting and motioning, they beseeched the driver to back up. He slipped the gearshift into reverse. Just as the truck wheel rolled clear of the blanket, the team member closest to the U-Haul barely heard a partial ring tone from inside.

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  Thomas Eades, Margo Jackson, Bill Burke, and the others were watching the Miami feed. None of them released a breath as they saw the sudden appearance of the pickup truck, saw the team struggle with the blanket, and saw the bright, white flash a moment before the video camera ceased its broadcast.

  “Oh, my God,” whispered Margo, as Eades reached for the telephone to call the President.

  Bill Burke, in a soft voice, said, “We’re not out of the woods yet,” pointing to the feed from Phoenix as Strickland and Watkins crawled under the edge of the blanket with their tools.

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  They had decided beforehand not to attempt to open the rear doors since they would be the most likely to have a tamper switch affixed. Instead, using electric shears, they cut a small hole in the metal side of the storage bay. The RF blanket not only prevented any radio signals from entering, it also blocked out nearly all light, so they worked with a hand-held spotlight and a halogen lamp on a portable tripod.

  Finishing the opening, Strickland fed a low-light camera with a tip-mounted light into the opening. He was able to crudely direct it by manipulating the stiff cable attached. Staring at the video screen, he said to Watkins, “It looks pretty straightforward. The fertilizer is all up against the front. The trigger is in plain view. Nothing fancy.” Twisting the cable around for a different view, he continued, “I don’t see anything at the rear doors or fastened to any of the walls.” He paused again as he further manhandled the cable, trying to see as much as possible. “My best view is of the opposite wall, Benny. Go around and cut through over there…on the other side. I’ll watch you come through.”

  Watkins took the electric shears and circled the truck, pushing the blanket away from the sides as he walked, being careful not to allow it to lift in any area. Strickland could see the tip of the shears penetrate and easily cut through the thin metal. Within two minutes, Watkins had cut a hole large enough to enter. Over his earbud, Strickland heard Watkins say, “Going in.”

  “Go ahead. It looks clear.”

  As Benny climbed into the storage area, Strickland slid a shielded coaxial cable under the blanket, instructing a team member on the outside to hook the coax to their transmitter. ‘No point in doing our work first,’ Strickland thought, ‘if no one is going to learn from it.’ Within moments, the mobile command posts at the other locations were watching Watkins progress as he positioned the camera for a better view. The live video and audio feed was also transmitted to the room where Jackson, Burke, and Eades observed. Bill Burke watched entranced, amazed by how calm Watkins appeared.

  “This is about as simple as it gets,” Benny said as Strickland joined him inside the truck. “Basic flash-fire detonator, two wires between it and the cell phone, no dummies. What do you think, Kirk?”

  Strickland shined his bright spotlight on the detonator, leaning forward to peer at it closely, said, “Cut ’em.”

  All of the people, watching the audio/video feed at several locations, again held their breath as Watkins removed two nippers from his pouch, positioning one on each wire. “One…two…THREE!”

  He simultaneously snipped both wires. Nothing happened. Setting down the nippers, Watkins carefully lifted the detonator from its nest and, turning, handed it to Strickland who gently walked it to the cut opening in the wall of the truck. He then set it down on the truck bed and climbed back out, reaching back in to retrieve it. Carefully, he placed it inside the blast box which he then slid under the edge of the blanket to a waiting team member outside.

  As Strickland had removed the detonator from the proximity of the bomb, Watkins took care of the loose ends, removing the cell phone component of the detonator and slowly examining the balance of the fertilizer, using a sensitive metal detector, for evidence of any other detonation methods. Keying his microphone, he said, “Kirk, we need to sift through this stuff just to be sure.”

  Strickland, who was standing back at the hole in the wall, answered, “Not us, man. Remember, this stuff is hotter than hell. Let’s let the guys with the radiation suits take over. We need to get our butts into decontamination right now.”

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  “The immediate casualties we are aware of in Miami were the bomb team and the as yet unidentified driver of the pickup truck. The U-Haul was filled with fertilizer and diesel fuel just like the Oklahoma City bomb, but radioactive pellets were added to the mixture, making it a radiological dispersal device, or ‘dirty bomb.’ The radioactive material, caesium-137, was immediately disseminated by the explosion over a three-mile radius which included a full sports stadium, occupied by nearly 40,000 people. Homeland Security and FEMA have quarantined the area, as outlined on the map we have provided to you, and established care and decontamination facilities at several points around the perimeter.”

  Thomas Eades paused for a moment, looking around at the faces of the reporters assembled for the press conference, trying to gauge their reactions before continuing. “I’d like to take a moment to remind everyone that an RDD is not a weapon of mass destruction. It is commonly referred to as a ‘weapon of mass disruption’ because of the psychological effect it has on people. Although there were many people contaminated by the radioactive fallout from this device, the established expectancy of death as a result of this exposure is minimal. Our decontamination teams will provide all of the citizens affected by this fallout with safe and clean temporary shelters, not allowing them to further expose themselves by breathing in the material. They will each receive a thorough scrubbing and decontamination. Their clothing and personal effects will be safely secured. And they will be escorted to their homes. Hospitalization will not be required except for those directly injured by the blast. All of those contaminated will receive checkups and follow-up visits for as long as needed.

  “The blast radius will be another matter. All of the automobiles, buildings, trees, concrete, pavement, and even the soil will require decontamination prior to the resumption of public access. This process will take several months.

  “I would like to reiterate the importance of providing accurate information to the public on this mat
ter. A so-called dirty bomb is used by terrorists because the material is relatively easy to obtain on the black market and, also, because they believe the psychological and emotional impact will exceed the reality of the blast itself. It is important for all of us not to pander to or contribute to any sort of hysteria. Any questions?”

  “Has anyone claimed responsibility for this attack?”

  “Claimed responsibility, no. However, the FBI believes that it has identified the person responsible.”

  “Person? This was done by one person? Who?”

  “It is up to the FBI to release that information when appropriate. This plot was obviously carried out by many people. When I said ‘person’ in the singular, I was referring to an individual who is believed to be responsible for planning it and setting it in motion. Another question, please?”

  “Can we expect an arrest of the person responsible soon?”

  “Again, I am going to ask that you wait until the FBI is prepared to make a statement regarding this aspect of the situation. Any questions regarding the bombing or the bombing attempts?”

  “Were any of your teams contaminated in the process of disarming the bombs?”

  “Essentially, no. We minimized the amount of time they were each exposed, and they utilized modified bomb suits which contained some shielding. We also had decontamination units standing by for immediate use. They all wore exposure badges similar to those used on nuclear submarines or by the personnel working within nuclear power plants, and none of their badges indicated an exposure exceeding safe limits. Thank you for asking that question, by the way. Another question?”

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  Suri Kaval pressed the mute button on his remote, leaving the video of Thomas Eades on the screen, and turned to answer his private line.

  “Kaval.”

  “Not exactly a successful plot, Suri,” a voice said.

  Kaval’s stomach muscles tightened at the words and tone of disapproval. “I never imagined….”

  “WHAT?” the man shouted. “You never imagined that they were smart enough to figure out your plan? Do you have any idea how many battles in your history have been lost because the opposition was underestimated?”

  “It won’t happen again.”

  “No,” said the other, a mysterious calmness in his voice replacing the previous fury. “You are correct. It will not.”

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  Reese switched off the television. “It could have been a lot worse, I guess,” he said to Elohim.

  “Yes. It could have,” Elohim responded, his voice neutral.

  Reese tried to read Elohim’s face. “It isn’t over, is it?”

  Frowning, Elohim answered, “Omniscience is not a prerequisite to know the answer to that question.”

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  Craig McWilliams and Nicholas Reynolds waited for Margo Jackson in her office. They could hear her talking to her aide outside the room. Neither spoke as they waited. Less than a minute elapsed before she came in, flopping heavily into one of the visitors’ chairs with a loud sigh.

  “Tired?” asked Reynolds.

  “Exhausted is more like it. I thought Elohim said we’d have time to wrap up loose ends before we left. I wanted to spend the time with my family, but I’ve done nothing but run around for four days now.”

  “Margo,” Craig asked, “if you don’t mind my asking, are you married?”

  “Yeah, to this job.” She leaned her head back in the chair, sprawled her legs forward, and stared at the ceiling before she continued. “Dating another Marine was verboten in the Corps, you know that. It’s certainly frowned upon here at the Bureau to date a fellow agent, especially if you’re on any kind of a career track. So, most of my life I’ve been surrounded by attractive, exciting, intelligent men, none of whom I’ve been allowed to date.”

  “What about college? There weren’t any rules against it there.”

  She smiled. “Of course there were. They were just self-imposed. Look, I felt so damn lucky to be going to college, I wasn’t about to waste a minute of it. I watched a lot of the other kids pissing away their study time on dates, on the phone planning dates, getting ready for dates, sleeping late after dates, or endlessly discussing who was dating whom. That just wasn’t why I was there.”

  “Well, maybe you’ll meet a nice guy in Heaven,” offered Reynolds.

  Margo laughed. “That just sounds so weird. I’m still not used to the idea. I guess if I were going to meet a nice guy, Heaven would be the place. I’ll tell you both one thing – the first item on my agenda when I get there is a nice, long snooze.”

  Chuckling, they enjoyed a brief release from the tension they had all been feeling. Reluctantly returning to the moment, McWilliams said, “Margo, that was a good call on Stavros. How did you figure out so quickly that he was being set up by Kaval?”

  “You know,” she answered, still examining the acoustic tiles in the ceiling grid, “I don’t really know. Gut feeling, I guess. I was aware of how little time we have right now. It just felt right to make a snap judgment.”

  “It was the right one. You saved a lot of people.”

  “That’s for sure,” Reynolds added.

  “Thanks.”

  All fell silent, their minds attempting to dismiss the images of what could have been. The quiet was broken as Craig said, “Am I the only one who feels guilty?”

  “About leaving tomorrow?” asked Nicholas.

  “Yeah. About leaving.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Nope. Definitely not,” added Margo, sliding back in the chair and focusing on her friends.

  Another silence. This time it was broken by Reynolds who spoke what all three were thinking. “Have you thought about staying?”

  “I have,” Margo answered. “After all, I’ve been wanting Bill’s job and I hear it’s going to become open soon.”

  They all laughed again, but only halfheartedly.

  “Are you going to do it?”

  “I don’t know, Nicholas. Probably not. It seems crazy to stay. What about you two?”

  “I guess I’m going to go,” replied McWilliams. “If I stayed, Dorothy would stay. It wouldn’t be fair to her.”

  “I’m in the same boat you are, Margo. Not married. No one really close. There are moments I feel bad about leaving. Then I think about what Elohim said, how bad it’s going to get soon, and I’m not sure I want to stick around for that, either.”

  “Hey, there’s an idea,” McWilliams blurted out jovially. “Maybe we should fix up the two of you. You’re both single. I don’t think the age difference will matter up there.”

  Smiling wickedly, Margo said, “I don’t know, Craig. I’m not much into white guys.”

  Laughter again erupted, louder and more genuine than before, interrupted by the ringing of Margo’s cell phone. Motioning for quiet, Margo answered, “Jackson.”

  “Margo, it’s Reese.”

  “Hi, Reese. Nicholas and Craig are with me. Should I put you on speaker?”

  “Probably a good idea,” Johnson answered, sounding somber.

  Margo pressed the speaker button on her cell and held the phone down on her lap. “Go ahead.”

  “I just stepped out from being with Elohim. This isn’t much help, but He’s telling me there’s more to come.”

  “Oh, shit!” said McWilliams.

  “Any hint at all, any details?” asked Margo.

  “No. But I am getting the distinct impression that Kaval isn’t the whole story.”

  “There’s someone else?”

  “I’m reading between the lines. I could be wrong, but, yes, I think there’s another involved. And, one more thing…,” Reese paused.

  Prompting him, Reynolds said, “Reese, what is it?”

  “Well, let’s just say Elohim is describing the other person as His eternal enemy.”

  Reynolds sagged back into his chair. “Oh, that’s just great.”

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  Reese sat at the table in Elohim’s private quart
ers, typing his recollections of the past few days into his laptop. A part of his mind focused on the task, while the rest observed and attempted to analyze Elohim who sat on the couch, staring out the window. He was glad his memory was not the sole source of information for these notes, referring frequently to the typed transcripts of the meetings.

  “I’ve been meaning to ask You…,” Reese said, waiting for Elohim to acknowledge him before continuing.