Blowout (33 page)

They had walked in silence for another ten minutes before Egan came up with at least one fatal flaw in Kast's plan. “Twelve hours is too long. Someone will notice something is wrong and they'll come running. No way they'll let us waltz over to the nearest airport and fly away.”

It was Kast's turn to stop. “They'll do exactly that,” he said. “And I'll explain why.”

*   *   *

Alessandro Rodriguez was a small, dark-skinned man whose English was without accent and whom Egan had met only a few days ago in North Carolina. He was a Command Systems special operator and had been handpicked by Kast himself to act as Egan's number one, and he was driving the lead Hummer when they crested the last hill overlooking the Initiative's back gate.

“There,” he said.

“Right on schedule,” Egan said. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, only the one man standing beside the open gate, beyond which was a Hummer, exactly according to plan, and his gut clenched. Keep your options open, his daddy had taught him, and despite Kast's ingenious plan, he intended to do just that.

Daley stepped aside as Rodriguez drove through the gate and pulled to the left to allow the other two Hummers to pass.

Egan rolled down his window as the contractor walked over.

“Mr. Daley, I presume.”

“Good evening, General. Run into any trouble on the way?”

“No. How about here?”

“The head of security showed up a few minutes ago asking questions, just as you called with your ETA. He's up at the wellhead secured.”

“How about everyone else?”

“Everyone's up at the R and D end, at Henry's, having a party.”

“How about the cell phone antenna?”

Daley glanced over his shoulder at the red light blinking atop the smokestack. “Should be going down any minute.”

“Sat phones?” Egan asked. It had been his idea to task the contractors to search for satellite phones anywhere within the Initiative and to disable them.

“Four, all missing their SIM cards.”

“Good work,” Egan said, and he turned to Rodriguez. “I want four men covering this gate from two defensible positions. Take the others up to the plant and get the charges in place and fused, priority one. Things are apt to get a little interesting here within the hour.”

“You'll be taking this vehicle up to the R and D compound I presume?” Rodriguez asked.

“Yes, along with Mr. Daley's people,” Egan said, and he turned back to Daley. “Get them rounded up.”

“What about the security officer? Someone is bound to come looking for him sooner or later.”

“Kill him,” Egan said, but then he changed his mind. “Better yet, bring him along.”

“As you wish,” the contractor said. He spoke into his lapel mike giving the order as Rodriguez got out and started hustling his troops and equipment.

 

50

PASSING THROUGH BELFIELD,
Ashley suppressed a shiver and Osborne behind the wheel of his SUV glanced over at her. “You want to go back?” he asked. The nearer they'd come to U.S. 85 the quieter and more withdrawn she'd become, and he was a little concerned for her.

She shook her head and smiled. “I'm okay,” she said. “But thinking about those poor people Egan killed, and how he did it, sends a shiver up my spine. They never had a chance.”

“Nothing like that ever happens out here, so most folks don't even lock their doors.”

Ashley looked at him. “It's one of the reasons you came home when the war was over for you, wasn't it?”

“One, not the only,” Osborne said. “How about you? Why not New York, or Washington, someplace with news?”

“I don't know. Habit, maybe. Inertia. The Bismarck job came up and I took it. Guess I was just tired of all the time practically living out of a suitcase. Never having a friend for more than three years at a stretch.”

“No one ever serious?”

Ashley shrugged.

“The majority of the population on most military bases is men. You should have had your pick.”

This time she laughed. “You have no idea how hard it was for me to get a date. Even in high school.”

“I don't believe it.”

“Come on, Nate. Who has the guts to try to make time with the general's daughter?”

“I do.”

“And trust me, my dad has always been a terror.”

“I do,” Osborne said again, and this time Ashley heard him, and she got serious.

“These last few days since Christmas, and especially this afternoon, don't have to mean anything further than what happened,” she said. “I didn't set any sort of a trap for you. I just want you to know that.”

“Okay,” Osborne said, watching the road, but when he turned to glance at her she was staring at him with intensity. It was something new. “What?” he asked.

“The problem is I think I'm falling in love with you. And when I told my dad he said it was about time I grew up, but I didn't really know what he meant until just this instant.”

Osborne didn't know what to say.

“I can't imagine my life without you,” she went on. “And for me that's a heck of an admission.”

Ashley's hands were clenched in her lap, and Osborne reached over and touched them. “When I saw you tied to the fence I thought I was too late to help you, and it nearly drove me crazy.”

She nodded. “I won't ever walk out on you, Nate,” she said. “The only way I'll leave is if you tell me you don't love me.”

Osborne's chest was swelling. “That'll never happen.”

She raised his hand to her lips and kissed it, then smiled. “I always thought women who acted like this were absolute saps.”

“Medora's not too much?”

Ashley laughed out loud, all the tension that had built between them on the way out here suddenly gone. “Medora will be just fine, so long as we can take a vacation back to civilization now and then,” she said. “You know, maybe like Dickinson or Bismarck or even Fargo.”

And it was Osborne's turn to laugh, and for the first time in a very long while he felt as if everything at least had the possibility of ending up just fine, even though he still had the jitters, which rose again to the surface as they came to the gravel road that led ten miles back to the Initiative.

He slowed for the turn and Ashley was suddenly subdued. “Bastards,” she muttered.

“We don't have to go to the party,” Osborne said.

Ashley shook her head. “Nothing's going to happen tonight; according to my dad there're no signs of anything coming up in the near term, but this business is a lot bigger than anyone suspected. Venezuelan intelligence is apparently working with a couple of very big Wall Street types—money managers who deal with oil derivatives—who'd like to see the bigger alternative energy programs, the ones most likely to succeed on an industrial scale, fail, and fail spectacularly.”

“If it's true then it's another confirmation that there's a leak somewhere,” Osborne said. “But where?”

“My dad thinks it has to be on the science staff, but the bureau's cleared everyone, which leaves his staff at ARPA-E, which he doesn't want to believe. He's worked with some of those people for a good portion of his career; called them over to help with the Initiative when the president appointed him to run the show. They're friends from the old Bosnia peacekeeping operation.”

“If the financing thing has gotten to the level we're talking about that's a lot of money. Serious money that can turn serious heads.”

“I said the same thing to him. But he doesn't want to believe that foxhole buddies could do something like that to each other.”

“Maybe he should step down,” Osborne suggested in as gentle a tone as possible.

“He will if he thinks he can't do the job. But I know him, and God help the poor bastard if it is someone on the staff and Dad catches them. He'll skin them alive.”

“What else?”

“Apparently the two Wall Street types may have met with a Venezuelan intelligence agent in Havana just a few days ago, which could mean that they're planning another attack. But it'll take some time to put it together, and by then it could be a moot point if the experiment actually works. I'm going to ask the doc what she thinks her chances are and how soon we'll know one way or the other. But my dad says that time is of the essence. We need to get it right and soon.”

“If that's the thinking in Washington, why the hell was the Air Force pulled out?”

“That's just the thing. Nettles's security people along with a couple of jets down at Ellsworth are standing by twenty-four/seven. They actually want another attack. If they could catch someone with their hands in the cookie jar—someone from Venezuela—it would help solve the diplomatic problem we're in.”

“And get a lot of innocent people killed in the doing.”

“Exactly,” Ashley said. “Which is why I needed to come out here tonight. If they're ready to do the experiment soon, I want Dr. Lipton to not tell anyone outside of the Initiative. Especially not my dad's office. If there is a leak in Washington, and they find out that the experiment is going ahead in the next week or so, the attack could come. I want her to lie to my father.”

 

51

THE LAST OF
the contractors filed out of the generating station's side door prodding Jim Cameron, his hands tied behind his back, to where Egan, Daley, and the others waited by the two Hummers.

“Barry Egan, I recognized your stench from all the way inside,” Cameron said. The side of his face was cut open and blood ran down his chin.

“Lieutenant Commander, not a very impressive man for all your SEAL training,” Egan said, enjoying himself. He'd always hated officers, most of whom had no earthly idea what they were doing, giving orders that half the time made absolutely no sense. Every battle and every war had been lost not by the blood and guts of the grunts, but by the bad decisions made at the top.

“If you've cut the phone service or any of the data links like last time, Air Force jets down at Ellsworth are already scrambling. Means you have twenty minutes tops to cover your ass before the shit starts raining down on you.”

“Actually I expect it to take a little longer, because we've only disrupted your cell service, and of course disabled the four satellite phones. Your data links are still streaming. I'd give Ellsworth one hour to get its shit in one sock and show up here.”

Cameron glanced over his shoulder. “Your people are wiring the place to blow, but it won't matter, you know. If you destroy the plant it'll just be rebuilt. Maybe delay us by a few months.”

“You will have lost access to your coal seam.”

“Not the only coal in the country, or even nearby. We'll drill another well. And another, and another, if need be. You and the Posse are out of your league.”

“But you're forgetting something,” Egan said. “All the coal seams and wells won't mean a thing without your chief scientist and her team. But especially her.”

Cameron's facial muscles tightened. “She's not the only scientist who can do the work. Anyway her methods and her formulas have all been set down. No need to kill her because if you did someone else would just pick up where she left off.”

Egan suppressed a laugh. “Romance in the Badlands between the scientist and the SEAL? Officers like you are like bags of shit, a dime a dozen. In any event you're right about us destroying this place, but we're not going to kill her. We're going to hold her as hostage.”

“For money?”

“Just for a little delay,” Egan said. “But you'll see for yourself if you don't cause us trouble.” He stepped aside so that Cameron could be loaded in the back of the Hummer, two of Daley's men bracketing him, their drawn pistols jammed into the side of his head.

Four of his men had already relocked the rear gate and had taken up defensive positions with night vision oculars. They would easily spot anything heading their way either by ground or by air. The others were inside the plant setting the explosives this time with radio-controlled detonators. No matter what happened this place was going to come crashing down, the well permanently capped. They would rebuild, if not right here, someplace close, but it would take time, and that's all Bob Kast and the spic who'd briefed him were interested in. “Buy us the time, and you'll get your reward.”

Daley got behind the wheel, his other three men climbing to the middle just behind the front seats, and Egan hesitated for just a moment at the front passenger door. “Post one, team lead,” he spoke into his lapel mike.

The designated squad leader at the rear gate came back immediately. “Team lead, post one secure. No perimeter movement.”

“Keep your eyes open,” Egan radioed back. “Post two, team lead. Report your status.”

“Team lead, post two. We're about halfway home. Ten minutes.”

“Assemble at your designated fire points when you're finished, and report.”

“Roger that. Post two, out.”

Egan wore a standard issue Beretta 9mm semiauto loader in a holster strapped to his chest beneath his camos. He took the pistol out, checked the load, and climbed up into the Hummer and they took off, passing through the interior gate and heading up toward the compound, the big, knobby tires crunching on the hard snowpack in the below-zero temperature.

“Who else out here tonight will be armed?” Egan asked.

“Just the three Air Force cops, one of whom will be manning the main gate,” Daley said.

“What about the other two?”

“Should be getting some rest, but this is New Year's Eve so they'll be at Henry's.”

“Good, it'll make it easier to take them down,” Egan said.

“You said you weren't going to kill anyone,” Cameron protested from the back.

“If he says another word, shoot him,” Egan said without turning around.