All Necessary Force (43 page)

Buckshot heard the tail end of the conversation and said, “Maybe I’m okay with that. I’m from New York. Maybe I’ll get to have a word with that asshole Cyrus Mace and his little white supremacist thing.”

“I’m not sure traitors get put in state institutions. And that’s what you’ll be. I can’t protect you, and I can guarantee I’m going to break quite a few laws to get these guys. I’ve already started.”

All three stood for a second before Decoy said, “We’re in.”

I was surprised. “You guys haven’t seen leaning over the edge yet. You ready for that?”

“No issues.”

I nodded. “Go get your kit. Bring down the keys for two Suburbans from the Ops Center. Buckshot, you’re going to stay here to make sure these techies break the law when I tell them to.”

“Why don’t you leave Jennifer here for that?” He looked at her. “No offense.”

I opened the door, seeing a roomful of techies all staring at me. “Because I’m going to need you to do things she’s not capable of.”

72

T

he two Suburbans chewed up the ground toward Richmond, going as fast as possible in the congestion of Interstate 95, spending most of the time throwing gravel on the shoulder to get around the traffic. Jennifer was driving while I got a data dump from the scientist at the Oversight Council. It wasn’t good. Four more substations with EHVTs had been taken out, and we had at least two attackers on the loose without a way to find them.

We’ve got to get a handle on the leader. Some way to track.

The only thing we had going for us was that the cop killer was still driving his Dominion Power truck. His track showed up less than twelve miles ahead, now outside of Spotsylvania, near the National Military Park. We exited at Highway 208 near Fredericksburg and began to hunt. We took a right on County Road 613 and passed through the park. Getting to the far side, I saw the truck ahead of us.

“Retro, I’ve got him. We’re going to take him out. Follow behind. When he’s stopped, get out and smoke him.”

“You sure that’s him? You want me to confirm?”

“No. I just heard him kill two cops in cold blood. Don’t waste your time trying to play Joe Friday. Kill him.”

“What about questioning?”

“He won’t respond to questions, and we don’t have time to apply force. Get his phone. That will answer everything.” I heard nothing back, and added, “Retro, trust me. Put a bullet in that guy’s head before he can do the same to you.”

“Roger.”

Jennifer heard the conversation and squinted at me, knowing I’d just ordered the extrajudicial execution of an American citizen.

“What? We only have two or three substations left. This is how it’s going to be. You want out, say the word.”

She said, “What do you want me to do?”

“PIT him. Just like happened to you at Assessment. Bring his ass down.”

She pressed the gas, closing in on the truck. She brought the Suburban right behind his bumper, close enough for me to recognize an African American in the driver’s seat.
That’s him.

She flipped the blinker and began to pass. When she came abreast of his left rear tire, she swerved into it, slamming into the large truck with all of the force the Suburban could muster. We became engaged in a battle of steel, his truck refusing to break contact with the road surface and our Suburban grinding into it, trying to overcome gravity.

“Push, dammit, give it gas!”

She floored the Suburban, and I saw the truck begin to move. We continued racing down the roadway locked together, with the back end of the truck moving in slow motion. We reached the crossover point, and the back end began to slide. Jennifer expertly controlled the wheel, forcing the rear end to swing around. Seconds later, we were shooting past with the truck spinning out of control. Jennifer slammed on the brakes and I jumped out, running to the vehicle seventy meters behind.

Retro had pinned the truck with his own Suburban and leapt out, Decoy right behind. The driver fiddled with something in the front seat, then exited with a yell, firing a pistol ineffectually at their advance. Retro and Decoy both pulled the trigger at the same time, splitting his head open. By the time I reached the vehicle, he was down. And absolutely dead.

“Find his phone. Get the numbers.”

I called Kurt. “We got one. Going to track the others with the numbers off of his phone.”

Kurt said, “What do you mean ‘we’?”

“I’ve got Jennifer with me,” I lied. “Tell the Virginia troopers they
can collect the carcass that killed their men.” I gave him our location and hung up.

Decoy came up with the phone. “It’s a pay-as-you-go. Only one number in it. What do you want to do?”

I called Buckshot. “Put a techie on the line.”

I heard a faltering voice. “Hello?”

“I need a geolocation of a phone. And I need it in real time.”

“Uhhh… Okay. Give me the number.”

I passed it to him. He came back on. “Uhh… this is a CONUS number. I can’t do anything with the domestic telephony. I’m sorry. It’s illegal.”

Jesus Christ.

“Put on Buckshot.”

He said, “Yeah?”

“Hit him.”

“What?”

“Hit him in the face. Right now. Then give him the phone.”

I heard a smack, then screaming. When the techie came back on, he was crying.

“Okay. You’re now under duress. It isn’t your fault. You were forced to track the phones. You understand?”

“Ye-Yes. I understand.”

“Get me the phone tracks right fucking now or I’m going to have Buckshot rip off your head.”

I hung up and began ripping through the power truck, looking for anything to give us a handle on the other two terrorists. Inside was a laptop computer displaying a news page on the blackout.
Enjoying his last fifteen minutes of fame.
There was nothing else. Retro called from the back.

“Found the EFPs. He’s got three in here, so we stopped at least that many attacks.”

“That’s good, but not good enough. We need some way to track those guys. We only have one number, and at least two terrorists running around without GPS on their vehicles.”

Jennifer began going through the computer, looking for anything
that might help us. She brought up the Internet history, clicking on recent pages. As I watched the screen slowly load, the Web page itself caused a flash of realization.

It’s talking to the Internet. Out here in the middle of nowhere.

“Jennifer, how’s that computer online? What’s it using?”

She played with the keys for second. “Looks like an AT&T 3G connection.”

My phone rang. I interrupted the techie before he had a chance to say anything.

“Can you geolocate a company computer using the cell network to access the Internet?”

“Well, sure. Basically, it’s dialing in just like a cell phone. What service?”

“This one’s AT&T, but I don’t know about the one I need tracked.”

“Well, AT&T is a GSM network, so all I need is the IMEI number from the device.”

“What’s an IMEI?”

“Just a standardized number that identifies the device over the network. Every GSM cell phone has one.”

“How do I find it?”

“I can’t explain it over the phone. I need to see the computer.”

“Would there be records of that sort of thing? At the company? Is that something a company would keep if they issued a bunch of laptops with this service?”

“Yeah. Someone would have the number in case the computer was stolen. They’d want to turn off the service.”

“Put Buckshot on the line.”

When he came on, I told him to put a fire under the analysts, finding out if Pepco had computer hookups like Dominion, and if they did, to find the IMEI of the computer the ex-con had in his truck. I knew he’d have it on, doing the same thing as the man we’d just killed, enjoying the destruction he was unleashing. He clicked off, turning the phone back to the techie.

“What do you have on the phone number I gave you?” I asked.

He gave me a grid way out in the Maryland countryside, at a place called Calvert Cliffs.

What the hell?

“Put on an intel analyst.”

A guy came on immediately, sounding scared. I could imagine Buckshot standing behind him with a tire iron.

“I need a search of Calvert Cliffs, Maryland.” I gave him the cell phone track. “What’s there? Why would one of these phones show up there?”

He tapped on the computer for a few seconds, then said, “Nothing’s out there but wilderness. It’s known for its fossil remnants in the cliffs. That’s about it.”

“Bullshit. Something’s out there. What about power? Electricity? Jesus, do I need to do this myself?”

He came back immediately. “Sorry, I didn’t know the search terms. Right north of the fossil park is the Calvert Cliffs Nuclear Power Plant. Two reactors butting up to the park, right on the Chesapeake Bay.”

73

R

afik broke out onto another gravel road, breathing hard and sweating. He had begun to worry about running out of water, the trip taking him much, much longer than he thought it would, with the forest thicker than he thought possible. He was supposed to be on high ground, according to his research, but most of the movement had been in swamps. He yanked his sleeve out of a thornbush, causing him to lose his balance and stumble back. Steadying himself on a small sapling, he took stock of his surroundings.

The road, really just a rutted path suitable for four-wheel-drive vehicles, wound in front of him, first perpendicular to his line of march, then going the same direction he was headed. It had a six-foot chain-link gate across it, blocking the trail alone, with the wood line doing the job to the left and right. The only thing preventing his advance was a line of signs proclaiming a warning. Crossing the road, he read:
NO TRESPASSING. THIS AREA IS UNDER CONSTANT SURVEILLANCE AND SUBJECT TO ROUTINE PATROLS.

The prohibition was repeated in Spanish, and staked out every thirty feet. He smiled.

Getting close.

He continued on, paralleling the gravel road until it wound out to the east and the coast. He continued straight north, finally heading uphill, until he broke out onto a spit of a ridgeline jutting into the Chesapeake Bay.

Spread below him was the Calvert Cliffs Nuclear Plant, housing two nuclear reactors that had been in operation since the 1970s. The plant
space itself was massive, but the two unique concrete domes designed to protect the reactors stood out prominently, the nearest one about one hundred and twenty meters away, down in the low ground of the valley. Just beyond them, to the west, was the immense electrical transfer point for the energy being produced here, and his planned target.

He studied the myriad of components, looking for the EHVTs used, based on his historical research of nuclear facilities. He became painfully aware of the distance between his location and them. It was close to three hundred meters away, and the transformers at this distance looked like nine-volt batteries.

Too hard to hit, even if the EFP will work that far.

His Google Earth research had failed. There was no way to strike from this location.

But I can’t get any closer.

He could see the chain-link electrified fence of the facility just down the ridge. Moving west, toward the EHVTs, meant moving into the security perimeter.

He scanned the compound again, being drawn to the two concrete domes that housed the reactors themselves. The closest was within striking distance.

He knew there was little chance his single EFP would penetrate the concrete sheath, since its sole purpose was to contain any radiation leaks in the event of a catastrophe.

But the protection is built to withstand a sloppy emergency, like an earthquake or plane crash.

Not designed to protect against a weapon built from the ground up to defeat the best armor on earth. The strike would definitely cause damage, and if the EFP even fractured the concrete a little bit, they’d be forced to pull both reactors off-line while they did a structural analysis. Especially after the Japanese tsunami catastrophe last year. The United States would be on edge because of that tragedy.

Not nearly the impact I wanted, but maybe all that’s left.

He’d gotten the call from Carl saying that police officers had been waiting for him at the substation, which meant it was either blind luck or they had specifically tracked Carl. He was leaning toward blind luck,
because the police had been taken by surprise and killed. Even so, Rafik had lost his earlier confidence. He was now unsure of reaching critical mass in the Eastern exchange, and had begun to resign himself to this final act.

He thought about the dome, and realized he was simply wishing for success. One EFP shot had little chance of doing any serious damage.

But what about two? Or four?

He began to formulate a germ of an idea.
What if I fired four EFPs at the same spot? Pounding the same fracture over and over? They’re specifically designed to defeat this very thing, only made of steel. Surely repeated strikes would penetrate simple concrete.

The silos weren’t armored. Just very thick traditional concrete. He didn’t know the exact makeup of the EFPs in his control but had seen the damage done by ones made much more crudely, and the damage was impressive indeed. If he could penetrate the concrete, with one or two EFP shots actually going inside the dome, he might cause serious havoc.

He had done enough research to know that even if he got through the outer barrier, the inner reactor was protected as well, and aiming blindly outside would almost ensure a miss.

But he also knew the reactor process was a delicate one. If he managed to destroy some of the mechanisms controlling the cooling of the nuclear rods, they’d melt down, causing a catastrophic fault.
And perhaps a release of radioactive waste through the fault I create, just as happened in Japan.

He began walking rapidly back toward the GPS waypoint he’d set where he left the trail, marking the path to his car. He toyed with calling one of the teams right now, telling them to meet him in the park. Perhaps Carl. Given his military experience, he would be the best choice to make the multiple strike work.