Reckoning of Delta Prime (Cyber Teen Project Book 3)

by D. B. Goodin

  “Excellent, I can see you are already surpassing my highest expectations.”

  Ezekiel gave each principal member a folder.

  “The information you have before you contains the key elements of the plan, but we still need to work out some finer details. I’ll let Mr. Tage explain our secret weapon,” Chen said.

  Ezekiel handed Tage a remote control. He fiddled with the buttons until a projector and screen lowered from the ceiling. The blinds also closed, leaving the room in a semi-darkened state. A picture of an island appeared. It looked inhospitable and appeared to have some sort of concrete structure that resembled a prison.

  “This island is beautiful for several reasons. You wouldn’t know it from these pictures, but the island contains a valuable energy source powerful enough to run the city of New York for years to come.”

  Mr. Tage let the weight of his words sink in.

  “This island looks like it is home to a prison. What is this energy source?” Dahlia asked.

  “I was just getting to that. Almost forty years ago, an accident at a nuclear plant in Russia caused panic in Europe and set back my work by a dozen years. If it wasn’t for my steel business, I would have been forced to declare bankruptcy because I was in the middle of building my own nuclear fusion plant off the coast of Milford, a city just north of here. I had given up on the idea of supplying energy to the Eastern portion of the United States and put the island up for sale. About a year later, a lucky accident changed everything.”

  Mr. Tage poured himself a glass of water and drank slowly.

  “What accident?” Dahlia asked in an impatient tone.

  “About sixty-five million years ago, a meteorite formed the island where I was building my nuclear plant. In the early 1990s, an enormous meteorite event was visible over the Atlantic Ocean. A small meteorite hit the surface of my island. Scientists wanted to study it, of course, so I charged them for the privilege. When the lead scientist told me he found something important, I listened. He theorized the new meteorite event had caused a chain of events that made my island a viable energy source. I discouraged him not to write about his findings. It’s funny how a nonstop cash flow into a single scientist’s projects will get you. It has taken thirty years and a great deal of money to perfect it, but we have discovered an alternative energy source.”

  “Unbelievable,” the Sultan said.

  “The best part was developing the transfer mechanism,” Mr. Tage continued.

  “Tell us more about the transfer mechanism,” the Sultan asked with renewed enthusiasm.

  “It’s a special cylinder that is lined with the material from the meteorite. I’m told it will contain the basis for the energy source. Then my people will replicate that energy source on the island.”

  “What island?”

  “Jeremiah’s, of course. As soon as Mr. Tage persuades Ms. Mason to sell, then our plans will be set into motion,” Chen said.

  “How do you plan on doing that, Tage?” Dahlia asked.

  “Good question—it’s one reason I wanted the Cabal to meet in person. We are all here to help Mr. Tage figure that out,” Chen said.

  Mr. Tage shifted uncomfortably in his chair and looked at his folder.

  “Playing with your pet rock is not the only reason we need nuclear material. The current and most advanced cyborgs require protein to function. To mass-produce cyborgs for the military, we will need a more sustainable energy source,” Chen said.

  “Integrate nuclear material in a cyborg—are you mad?” Solomon said.

  “It will work with the proper shielding, and we need only a small amount,” Dr. Ash said.

  “We need some uranium-235, or a similar isotope for the new cyborg energy source; we can also use that as a catalyst to make use of Tage’s energy source,” Solomon said.

  “How much of the material do we need?”

  “About the same amount that is needed to make an atomic bomb: about fifteen pounds of the material.” Solomon scratched his beard stubble. “Or—if we have enough material, we can make polonium.”

  “Where are we going to get that?”

  “The most logical is a nuclear reactor or an enrichment facility. The most common way to make polonium is from uranium, but we might be able to bombard certain metals with atoms.”

  “Solomon, you may be on to something here. I should be able to change the cyborg’s chemistry to be compatible with Polonium easy enough,” Dr. Ash interjected.

  “Yes—bombarding the metal bismuth with a certain number of atoms would have the desired effect without acquiring a nuclear weapon. It sure is a hell of a lot safer,” Solomon said as he started scribbling on a nearby whiteboard.

  “Wait, I don’t follow—what’s a bismuth?”

  “It is a chemical element with the atomic number 83,” Solomon said, as if it were common knowledge.

  “So, if I understand correctly, if we steal at least fifteen pounds of uranium, we can activate the power source for the meteor and use the bismuth for the cyborgs?” Mr. Tage asked.

  “Something like that.”

  “I don’t have the slightest clue what you are saying. Just tell me what I need to steal,” Dahlia said.

  “We need a contact at a nuclear facility that will sell some uranium-235 or uranium-238. I’ll give you the amounts of each material we need,” Solomon explained.

  “How are we even going to get the material out of the reactor?” the Sultan asked.

  “It would be best to raid the stockpiles of plutonium. The security measures would be less stringent than at a nuclear reactor,” Solomon suggested.

  “Where do we get access to these stockpiles?”

  “I would start doing some simple internet searches. Many countries may even list these sites on their civil engineering websites. If that doesn’t work, then stealing a playbook is another option.”

  “I think I have an idea where to look,” Dahlia said.

  “Where?”

  “According to the search I just made, Russia has more than one hundred metric tons of the stuff. Which is going to be stored in many facilities in the country. All we need to do is find the least secure facility,” Dahlia said.

  “Easier said than done, but I know someone who is up for the task of helping us,” Mr. Tage said.

  “Who?” Dahlia asked.

  “Our former level-five intern, Nigel Watson.”

  Rick perked up at the sound of his son’s name.

  “I don’t think he is going to help us,” Dahlia said.

  “Nonsense, all we need is a little persuasion. Remember how he was looking at Natasha back at Tage Manor? We just need to send in one of your beauties and he will be eating out of their hands.”

  “Why don’t we send in a more experienced operative?” Dr. Ash said.

  “Who do you suggest?”

  “Nozomi is beautiful and knows how to take care of herself in a fight,” Dr. Ash said.

  “Do we even know where the boy is?” Dahlia said.

  “He’s in New York with Melissa Mason. Nozomi has been tracking Delta-51 for some time. It was Delta who led us to him. It was a happy accident for us all,” Dr. Ash said.

  “I volunteer to go with Nozomi. I know how my son thinks and can help her,” Rick said.

  “I suggest we vote on it,” Dr. Ash said.

  Mr. Chen was following the conversation with some interest. “All principal members of the Cabal will vote on enlisting Nigel Watson’s help in finding an insecure location for the plutonium,” he said. “Who’s in favor?”

  Mr. Tage and Dr. Ash raised their hands immediately. Dahlia considered for a moment before raising hers. The Sultan and Mr. Chen were the last ones to raise their hands.

  “Well then, it looks like we are going to enlist a young hacker’s help. We will discuss this in more detail at the beginning of the morning session. Now, the hour is late, so I suggest we retire in the main dining hall for an excellent meal prepared by my executive chef,” Mr. Chen said.


  The Bromwick guests were treated to a seven-course meal. Mr. Chen was known for hiring the best in culinary excellence. The guests were treated to hors d’oeuvres, several choices of soup and salad, a choice between fish, meat, or fowl, dessert, and a mignardise that everyone seemed to enjoy.

  “The petit fours are superb,” Vedrana said.

  “I’m glad you approve, my dear,” Chen said, smiling.

  Rick stared at Vedrana with some interest. His gaze skirted to her chest and remained there for several moments.

  If I didn’t know any better, I’d think Tage’s lieutenant has designs for our young assassin. You better watch your step, my friend, or D will gut you like a fish, Mr. Chen thought.

  “Why aren’t you eating, my dear?” Rick said to Nozomi.

  “I don’t eat what you eat,” Nozomi said.

  A moment later, Nozomi unzipped the leather on her left side, revealing perfect flesh. Then she tapped her side until a panel popped out of her. She removed a cylinder-looking device, replaced it, then put the used cartridge back into her purse.

  A moment later, Nozomi’s expression changed. It was less intense, and more subdued.

  “Much better now. Thanks for the reminder, handsome,” Nozomi said, winking at Rick.

  Rick’s face turned red; then he refocused his attention on his meal.

  “Mr. Tage, once you transport the new energy to the island, how do you plan on igniting the catalyst for it?” Dr. Ash asked.

  Mr. Tage thought about it for a moment.

  “Yes, we do need a reaction large enough to ignite the energy in the meteorite. We will need some material from a nuclear reactor, I think,” Mr. Tage said.

  “It’s not like anyone is going to let you take some uranium from a power plant. Do you have a plan of action?” the Sultan asked.

  “Not yet, but I hope to lean on the Black Heart for some tactical assistance.”

  After dessert and coffee, Mr. Chen invited the principal members of the Cabal for a nightcap. The lieutenants retired to their respective rooms.

  Mr. Chen handed everyone a glass with two fingers of his finest brandy.

  “This is the best drink I’ve ever had,” Mr. Tage said.

  “I have spared no expense for our meetings. Tomorrow we lay the foundation that will change human history, and while I think it’s important to involve our lieutenants, it’s paramount we meet privately,” Mr. Chen said.

  “Does this have something to do with the nuclear material?” Dahlia asked.

  Mr. Chen smiled.

  “I understand you are an expert in covert operations. I would like your assistance in getting this into a nuclear power plant,” Mr. Chen said as he removed a flash drive from his breast pocket.

  “What’s on it?” Dahlia asked.

  “I’m told it’s a zero-day virus. It will allow us to control certain systems found in nuclear power plants.”

  Dahlia considered this for a moment. “We should determine the second-shift workers with certain social inadequacies. Then, with the help of one of your beautiful assassins, we can implant it,” she said.

  “They must persuade a complete stranger to insert a device at the plant,” the Sultan said.

  “It’s not complicated. I’ll have Vedrana frequent an establishment our target visits. It could be a bar, coffee shop, or whatever and establish a rapport. When our target makes a move on our girl she will play hard to get, but then, when the time is right, she will show him some seductive photos. The next time they meet, she will get more intimate and then offer the flash drive with the promised photos. He will want to view them as soon as possible, so when he returns from his dinner break, he will be dying to insert the infected drive into a computer.”

  Mr. Chen rubbed his chin.

  “It will take a long time for this rouse to work. Especially since the target is across state lines,” Mr. Chen said.

  “Let me worry about that. Where is the target?” Dahlia asked.

  “Eastern Ohio, near the Pennsylvania border.”

  “Not a problem, I can perform the reconnaissance. What is the timeline?”

  “The sooner the better.”

  “I’ll make it a priority then.” Dahlia finished her drink in one gulp. The small table shook as the glass slammed against the polished wood. “Time for bed. See you . . . gentlemen in the morning.”

  Mr. Chen watched Dahlia leave.

  “You’ve been quiet tonight, Nas. I would like to hear your thoughts,” Mr. Chen said.

  “This plan requires a lot of coordination to get it right. There are easier targets,” the Sultan replied.

  “There are, but the timing for this attack is good if we want to blame others,” Mr. Chen said.

  “I don’t follow—who is going to get blamed?” Mr. Tage said.

  “Our good friends, the Red Falcon hacking group.” Mr. Chen smiled like he was the only person privy to a private joke.

  Everyone’s phone chirped in unison.

  “Oh my! A nuclear power plant in southern Ukraine has exploded,” Mr. Tage said.

  “They were hacked,” the Sultan said.

  “All is going to plan. In a week’s time they will strike the Ohio Valley Nuclear Reactor,” Mr. Chen said.

  “Won’t nuclear facilities around the world be under a heightened security warning?” Dr. Ash asked.

  “Not the Ohio Valley facility,” Mr. Chen said, laughing.

  “This is not part of the plan, Chen!” the Sultan said.

  “It is now. Relax—I have everything under control.”

  “This has the potential of harming hundreds—if not thousands—of innocent lives, and we can’t take the risk,” the Sultan said as he headed for the door.

  “Nas, please hear me out. It’s not our wish to harm innocents—the Cabal will see to that.”

  “I hope so, Chen. If this puts our plan at risk there will be hell to pay, and not just from us,” Mr. Tage said.

  “Are you worried the Red Falcon group will figure out who is setting them up? Because it sure seems like a setup to me,” a gruff male voice said.

  Mr. Chen turned to look in the direction of the voice and saw General Kurtzen, who was leaning on his bookcase and cleaning his nails with some kind of knife.

  “Tell me, how are they going to know? Members of that group have been vocal about nuclear disarmament for years,” Mr. Chen said.

  “That may be so, but why would an Eastern European hacking group want to target a nuclear power plant in Ohio?”

  “The general brings up an excellent point,” the Sultan said.

  Chen furrowed his brow in concentration. “Red Falcon has disrupted other nuclear facilities before.”

  General Kurtzen started swiping on his phone. “I think you need to rethink this, Chen. So far I’ve found no evidence that the Red Falcon group has any involvement in any nuclear meltdowns.”

  “Chen, I think you need to reconsider this course of action. The damage in the Ukraine is done and there will be a lot of press about it. I’m confident that with the collective brainpower in this room we can figure out another way to gather the required material without inciting disaster,” Mr. Tage said.

  “Nonsense, this needs to happen.” Mr. Chen slammed his glass on the table. The ice in the glass rattled.

  “Why does this need to happen? I’ve already proved we don’t need material from a reactor,” Solomon said.

  Chen inspected the room, thinking, I want to make these people millions, but they only care about collateral damage.

  “What are you not telling us? What business of yours stands to gain if the Ohio Valley Nuclear Reactor melts down?” the Sultan demanded.

  “It’s simple, he needs jobs for the environmental cleanup companies he just acquired. It’s a good move—ballsy, but profitable,” Nico Gratzano said.

  Mr. Chen raised a glass. “To your late father Tony, a shrewd businessman who knew when to exploit a great opportunity when he saw it coming.”

  The room fell si
lent. Nobody seemed to be in the mood to celebrate.

  Chapter 17

  Nozomi retired to her suite at the Bromwick. It contained many antiquities which gave it an old, but elegant look. She had preparations to make.

  “Hey beautiful, you leaving so early?” a man’s voice said.

  Nozomi shot a glance in the direction of the voice.

  Mr. Tage’s man, she noted. What was his name, Russ? Roy? No . . . Rick!

  Rick Watson stood about ten feet away. He was holding two drinks. “Care to join me?”

  Nozomi closed the distance and pushed Rick against the wall hard enough to send a nearby painting and his drinks crashing to the floor.

  “What do you want, little man?” she demanded, pushing him.

  “Ooh, baby, I like it when a woman plays rough.”

  Rick grabbed Nozomi by the throat. She froze, didn’t offer any resistance. He kissed her.

  “Are you sure you have it in you, little man? Then come get me!” Nozomi said in a playful tone.

  Rick watched as Nozomi unlocked her room, then entered. She left the door open.

  See if the big man has the balls to play rough with me, Nozomi thought.

  Moments later, she encountered the embrace of two greedy hands pawing her like an animal. He pulled at her white leather outfit, trying to find an entrance. She smiled as he attempted to pull at the leather.

  “If that’s how you treat all of your woman, no wonder why your ex-wife dumped you for that FBI agent,” Nozomi said, laughing.

  “Take your clothes off,” Rick said.

  “I’m not an object for you to use, little man.”

  Rick clasped a hand over Nozomi’s neck and squeezed. Nozomi backhanded him so hard he lost his grip and stumbled. A moment later she leaped on him and ripped his shirt off.

  “If we are going to play, it’s on my terms,” Nozomi said as she punched him in the stomach.

  “Stop it, you crazy bitch,” Rick gasped.

  “Shall I stop?”

  Rick looked around the room like a desperate man.

  “No . . . Don’t stop . . . Mistress.”

  Nozomi smiled, then opened a drawer and took several pieces of leather out and threw them to Rick.

  “I need to prepare. Put these on and be ready when I return.”