End Game

by Alex Lukeman

  "You must have gotten an 'A' in math," Elizabeth said.

  Nick got up, went to the sideboard and poured a cup of coffee.

  "How do you want to start?" he said.

  "I think it's an inside job," Elizabeth said. "No one outside of OST knows when nukes are being moved, much less the route. Someone had to tell the bad guys where the truck was going to be and give them the code for the computer."

  "By now those bombs could be anywhere."

  "The satellites might tell us something," Stephanie said. "Freddie's already on it."

  Freddie was a Cray super computer Stephanie had modified with artificial intelligence.

  "It's going to be hard to spot the truck they used," Elizabeth said. "There are a lot of big rigs out there. It's like trying to find one unique grain of sand on the beach."

  "If I were them, I'd go to ground and get out of sight," Nick said. "Or I'd move the bombs out of the country, fast. If they don't park in a barn somewhere, Mexico is a good bet. It's close by. There are a lot of places they could get across the border without any problem. Or they could head for the gulf, offload to a ship. There's no way we can watch every spot on the coast. I'm not optimistic about finding where they went anytime soon."

  "The president won't want to hear that."

  "That's too damn bad. Playing ostrich on this isn't going to help. Whoever did this is smart. It took some serious planning to pull off. "

  "Just what we need," Stephanie said. "Smart terrorists."

  "Look on the bright side," Nick said. "It's good they're smart."

  "How could that possibly be good?"

  "Do you want somebody stupid messing around with a nuclear bomb?"

  Chapter 3

  "We need a plan," Elizabeth said.

  "I have a question," Selena said. "Are we going to bring in Ronnie and Lamont? And what about Valentina?"

  "Not yet. Let's wait and see what happens. For now, the four of us are enough."

  "Don't forget Freddie," Stephanie said.

  "Are you listening, Freddie?" Elizabeth asked.

  I am always listening, Director, unless I have been instructed not to.

  "If you have an idea, feel free to jump in."

  That is a confusing instruction, Director. I am unable to jump.

  Nick stifled a laugh. Freddie sometimes took offense if he was laughed at. For a computer, he had become remarkably human. Sometimes it was annoying as hell.

  "I'm sorry, Freddie," Elizabeth said. "It's just an expression. It means to contribute if you feel you have something to add."

  I will add this information to my database.

  "What's our first assumption?" Selena asked.

  "That whoever took those bombs is a serious player," Nick said. "I can't see a bunch of amateurs pulling off something like that."

  "The satellites will have something," Stephanie said. "Those shipments are tracked. There must be something we can use."

  I am accessing the satellite photos now .

  "Excellent, Freddie. Please display them on the monitor."

  A large monitor sat on the end of Elizabeth's desk. Images from the satellite assigned to the OST transport began to appear as Freddie relayed them. A series of still photographs captured the journey of the trailer and escorts as they left Dyess and headed toward Amarillo .

  The progress of the convoy was normal until it reached Estilline, before the bridge across the Red River. The satellite record showed the police cars and the stop, then the diversion from 287 onto 86. Everything seemed fine until the truck slowed and pulled over to the side of the road.

  The rest followed in short order. Two cop cars pulled up. The escorting agents got out of the SUV's. Then the cops shot them and the driver. One of the hijackers climbed up into the cab and disabled the security measures, including the tracking signal that locked the satellite on target. Still overhead, the bird continued to record events on the highway. Another truck pulled up, and the transfer of the bombs began. The satellite moved out of range, but not before photographs showed the truck that now held the bombs headed back toward Estilline.

  "What about the driver?" Nick asked. "Maybe he was in on it. Or maybe someone else at OST."

  "He's dead, isn't he?" Stephanie asked.

  "That doesn't mean he wasn't involved," Elizabeth said.

  "I don't think he was," Nick said. "Watch the part where the terrorists shoot everyone." Nick pointed at a man in the photos wearing a ball cap. "That's the driver. He was trying to get back into the cab when they shot him. I think he was trying to disable the trailer. But he doesn't make it."

  "Or he was double crossed," Selena said.

  "Yeah, could be."

  Stephanie said, "Freddie, have you found out anything about him?"

  Yes.

  Stephanie sighed. "Please put it up on the monitor."

  Certainly, Stephanie. All you need to do is ask.

  They studied Wardell's records, neatly typed out on the monitor. It was complete from birth, including work history, military records, and finances .

  "This guy looks like Mister Clean," Nick said. "Married twelve years. Did a tour in Afghanistan. He was an E5, worked in the motor pool for his unit. No bad marks, honorable discharge. He's got two kids."

  "Any big deposits lately?" Selena asked. "Maybe a new Corvette? Something like that? What do drivers for OST make in a year?"

  The average wage is about seventy eight thousand a year plus benefits.

  "He was just getting by on his salary," Nick said. He read down the report. "His wife is a stay-at-home mom. Two kids and a mortgage. He had two thousand in a savings account and a little over eight thousand in credit card debt. She's got a couple of department store cards, but nothing major."

  "For the moment, let's rule him out as a willing participant," Elizabeth said. "I want to know who was responsible for the computer in that truck, the one that controlled all the security features. Who knew the codes?"

  I can find that out, Director.

  "I think you're right, Director. It has to be an inside job," Nick said. "Nothing else fits."

  The codes used are single use only, issued out of OST headquarters in Albuquerque.

  "Freddie, who had access to the codes? Did the escorts know?"

  Negative. Two people are responsible for the codes. Someone at the destination and someone at OST headquarters. The computer on the truck is programmed by satellite command."

  "Whoever did this is a traitor," Nick said.

  "You wonder why someone would sell out his country like this. Hand over nuclear weapons to terrorists," Selena said.

  "Probably money."

  "Maybe it's someone who just hates America on principle."

  "There's a lot of that going around these days," Nick said.

  Chapter 4

  The first sharp sliver of a new moon sliced the night sky. Outside an abandoned warehouse on the Texas coast, a rust-streaked fishing trawler lay alongside a rotting wooden wharf that jutted out from the shore. Three of the stolen bombs were on board, hidden under a tarp on the deck. It was only a temporary arrangement. The trawler would head out onto the Gulf and transfer the weapons to a freighter waiting offshore. The fourth bomb had been placed in a moving truck painted yellow. Beneath the paint, the faint letters of a national rental company could still be made out.

  Two groups watched each other on the dirt floor of the warehouse. A small man with a full beard stood in front of a dozen men. Across from him stood the hijackers, now numbering nine. Both groups were armed, guns held casually across the chest or pointed at the floor. An aluminum briefcase sat on a table between them.

  The leader of the hijackers had broad shoulders that stretched the seams of his suit jacket. His name was Luca. His face was course, his complexion dark and heavily shadowed with his beard.

  "You have the goods. Time for the rest of the payment, Ruslan," he said.

  It was the small man's real name. He wasn't concerned. He knew it didn't matt
er.

  Ruslan gestured at the case.

  "It's right there. Five million in diamonds. The rest has been deposited in the Bahamas, as requested."

  "I know that. I already checked. You don't mind if I take a quick look, do you?"

  Ruslan smiled, revealing bad teeth.

  "Of course not. Please. I won't feel insulted if you look. I would do the same, in your place. "

  Luca walked over to the case and opened it while everyone watched. Inside were dozens of plastic bags filled with diamonds. He opened one of the bags and selected a stone at random. Taking a jeweler's loupe from his jacket pocket, Luca inspected the diamond. He put it back, then did the same with another diamond from a different bag. He repeated the process with a third. Then he closed the case and stood.

  "Satisfied?" Ruslan asked.

  "They're good quality, unmarked. It's been a pleasure doing business with you."

  Luca's men looked at each other and grinned.

  Ruslan placed his hand on his heart and bowed, slightly. "And with you. Perhaps we can work together in the future."

  He started to move away, then turned. "One more thing, Mister Luca."

  "Yeah?" Luca said.

  Ruslan's men opened fire. The sound of the guns hammered against the tin roof of the empty warehouse. Brass casings showered the floor. There was no time to react. The hijackers spun and staggered as the bullets tore into them, then crumpled to the ground. Ruslan walked over and administered a single shot to the head of each man. Then he spit on Luca's dead face.

  "Put the bodies in the trailer."

  When his men were done, Ruslan climbed up into the trailer and placed a gray box under Luca's body. He flipped a switch on the side and covered the box with the dead man's jacket. No one looking in would see it. Ruslan got out of the trailer and gently closed the doors.

  He turned to two men waiting quietly nearby. They would take the truck with the bomb to its destination .

  "Remember" Ruslan said. "Do not exceed the speed limits. Drive only during the day. It is much harder to see the police at night. Observe as you drive. Sometimes their vehicles are not marked with lights and signs. If you are stopped, do not panic. Be polite. You will be asked for your license and registration. Give them to the cop and don't worry about it. Your papers will pass any inspection."

  One of the men said, "What if they want to inspect the load?"

  "Don't argue. Open the back for them. They will see only chairs and household goods."

  The men nodded.

  He handed one of them a piece of paper.

  "Rooms have been reserved for you at motels along your route, using the names on your documents. They have been paid for, but you may be asked for a credit card. Use the ones I gave you. Leave your room as soon as it is light and arrive at the next stop before dark. Leave nothing behind. Only speak English where others can hear. You have your phones?"

  Nods of assent.

  "Use them only if a problem arises. If the truck breaks down, someone will come to assist you. You know what to do if the truck is going to be fully searched. God willing, you will not be stopped. Once you have arrived at your destination, call the number you've been given. You will receive further instructions."

  Ruslan paused.

  "You are the vanguard of our victory. It is a great honor."

  He hugged each of the men in turn.

  "Go with God," he said.

  The two men climbed into their truck. The engine started and a moment later they were gone .

  Ruslan picked up the aluminum briefcase and headed for the trawler. His men followed him aboard. It was still several hours until dawn. Water frothed and churned as the ship backed away from the pier. The bow swung around and the trawler headed out into the gulf, where the freighter waited.

  Ruslan watched the shore recede into the darkness. The man standing next to him sighed.

  "It will be good to get home. My mother is ill. She hasn't been the same since my brother's death. I miss my family."

  Ruslan patted him on the back.

  "Don't worry, Mahkmud. You'll be home soon enough."

  "In'shallah."

  Ruslan looked at the blunt shapes of death hidden under the tarpaulin.

  Yes , he thought, as God wills.

  An hour later, the trawler reached the waiting ship. Ruslan watched a crane swing out over the side and lift the bombs from the deck of the trawler, then lower them into the hold. When the bombs were aboard, everyone boarded the freighter, leaving the trawler adrift.

  Ruslan stood at the rail as the freighter moved away. He took a transmitter from his pocket and pressed a button. The explosion blew the bottom out of the abandoned trawler. She shuddered and listed to port, settling in the water. Within a minute, she was gone from sight.

  On the horizon, the first hint of dawn was visible.

  Chapter 5

  The next day Nick and Selena were back in Elizabeth's office. Nick had deep shadows under his eyes.

  "You look tired, Nick," Stephanie said.

  "The twins kept us up all night," Selena said. "Both of them have teeth coming in."

  Selena wore a navy blue outfit that deepened the color of her violet eyes. She seemed radiant. Stephanie wondered how she managed to look like that without much sleep. Nick, on the other hand, looked like he hadn't slept in a week. He needed a shave.

  "We have something," Elizabeth said. "The FBI found the truck used to move the bombs."

  "Where is it?" Nick asked.

  "Southeast Texas, right on the coast. I want both of you to get down there right away."

  "Both of us? Why? I can go by myself."

  "Because two sets of eyes are better than one."

  "But…"

  "Both of you, Nick."

  Nick knew when it was futile to argue.

  He said, "The FBI won't go out of their way to cooperate. I don't trust the feds to tell us what they find."

  "That's one of the reasons you're going. The Bureau has to wait to examine the trailer until you get there. I got Hood to lock it down. The agents on site will think you're from Langley."

  Nick rolled his eyes. "They're going to love that."

  Stephanie's hands flew over the keyboard of her computer.

  "I can get you and Selena into Houston around two this afternoon."

  "Can you book us a car rental? "

  "Sure." She tapped on her keys. "You've got a choice of a Malibu or a Cadillac."

  "You kidding? We'll take the Caddy."

  The flight to Houston was uneventful. They picked up the car at the airport. The trailer had been discovered near the town of Palacios, two hours away.

  They'd been on the road for about half an hour, each wrapped in their own thoughts. Nick was driving.

  Selena broke the silence.

  "Who do you think is behind this?"

  "Whoever it is, they're several cuts above your average terrorist. It took a lot of planning to pull off an operation like this. The cop cars, for instance."

  He pulled out and passed a big diesel RV towing a Jeep behind it.

  "I've been thinking about it. The truck was stopped, then the driver diverted. I think we can rule out foreigners pretending to be cops. Those shipments go through Texas all the time. All the drivers know what the Highway Patrol looks like and how they act. I don't think you could fool them if you weren't American. The driver and escorts would have reacted if anything seemed suspicious."

  "You're giving the driver and the escorts a pass?"

  "For the moment."

  "Crooked cops then?"

  "It's possible, but I think it's unlikely. The FBI will look into it. With enough money, it wouldn't be difficult to get fake vehicles and uniforms. Hollywood does it all the time."

  "Where we're going is right on the Gulf. If this trailer is the right one, those bombs were probably loaded onto a ship. That means they're out in the Atlantic somewhere."

  Nick nodded. "Yep. Going to be a lot of fun trying to
find out what ship and where it's going. "

  The rest of the drive passed in silence. When they got to the place where the trailer had been found, a highway patrolman stopped them. Nick showed a phony CIA ID and was waved through. Several men in suits and ties were standing around doing nothing, looking pissed off.

  "Not a bunch of happy campers," Nick said.

  They got out of the car.

  A man in a blue suit came striding toward them. He looked angry.

  "You from Langley?"

  "That's right. I'm Nick. This is Selena."

  "Jack Sorenson, Special Agent in Charge."

  He didn't hold out his hand.

  "You're the ones who stopped us from doing our job?"

  "I wouldn't put it that way," Selena said.

  "We're not trying to make things hard for you," Nick said.

  "I'm really glad to hear that," Sorenson said. "That will make everybody feel a lot better. We could have had this wrapped up by now, if we didn't have to wait for you."

  "Why don't you tell us how you found this place?" Nick said. "The sooner we get what we came for, the sooner we're gone."

  Jack gave off an exaggerated sigh.

  "A couple of kids came down to the cove to fish off the wharf. That warehouse over there has been abandoned and closed up for years. They saw the doors were open and decided to explore a little. They took a look inside."

  "And?"

  "And, they saw the trailer. It freaked them out. They told their parents. One of them called the local cops."

  "Why did it freak them out?"

  "It had blood dripping out of it."

  "That would do it," Selena said.

  "What happened next? "

  "The cops showed up. There was a BOLO out on a big drug shipment coming from Mexico, with instructions to back off and notify us if something suspicious turned up. A trailer with no plates and leaking blood qualified as suspicious. They called us. They knew enough to leave it alone."

  "Let's go take a look," Nick said.

  They walked over to the warehouse. The rest of Sorenson's team trailed behind. Inside the building, sunlight streamed through holes in the tin roof.

  The building was about a hundred feet long. The trailer was parked two thirds of the way in. Multiple tire tracks crisscrossed the dirt floor. As they got closer to the trailer, they saw dozens of shiny brass casings scattered about. There were so many casings, it was difficult to avoid stepping on them. Nick bent down, stuck a pen in the end of one, and picked it up. He examined it and showed it to Selena.