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Authors: Bob Blink

Corrector (39 page)

BOOK: Corrector
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Jake felt the effort seemed too small, but couldn’t visualize how many police would be involved, although their search would be hampered by not knowing what this was about.

The four of them returned to the SUV and Evans took them on a tour of the area Carlson had outlined on the map.  Making the drive Jake realized how big the task was.  A couple of miles didn’t sound like much, but the two plus miles from end to end was compounded by a great many parallel streets that ran that direction.  While some of the structure looked in decent shape and the police could reasonably expect to find someone at each residence, many were ramshackled and probably deserted. Those would be harder.  Other areas, clearly old industrial sites, were closed up and offered large buildings with multiple places to hide a weapon. 

Each of the police would be given a special card to carry with them.  At the end of their patrol those would be collected and checked.  If anyone had been close to a radiation source it would show, and give them an area to check more closely.  The patrolmen weren’t told what the cards were for, but Jake wondered how many would guess.

As they drove through the waterlogged streets, Jake wondered how they would tackle the task.  This wasn’t something he knew anything about.  He hoped that Carlson had a plan.  It looked almost hopeless to him. 

After several hours, Evan drove them to the safe house they would be using for the duration of the stay.  Jake decided the house served several purposes.  It gave them a comfortable base where they could operate around the clock if needed, and also provided an easy way for the agents to keep an eye on Jake.  They still weren’t comfortable with him, and while he had been treated almost as one of them, his room was the one that was locked from the outside.  Evans also stayed there, giving them an additional hand in watching him.

When they had the command post set up, Carlson explained they would coordinate the activities of the vans once they arrived, and would help in checking the abandoned factory sites.  The police, who knew the city better, would work the more populated areas.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 35

 

 

 

The next morning they began the arduous task of examining all of the closed and deserted industrial facilities within the zone of interest.  Those facilities that were still active were given over to the local police to investigate.  Active facilities were considered low priority as it was unlikely that someone would try and hide a large explosive device in such a place, but they had to be checked.  Jake had never been involved in anything like this, and was appalled at the sheer immensity of the task.  The weather didn’t help either.  The rain, which had tapered off somewhat, was still coming down with periodic bursts of increased intensity.  The ground was wet with large puddles, and the skies were leaden and dark.  Anyone with any sense was inside away from the weather.  Wearing rain slickers, the small group of four, Jake plus the three FBI agents, departed the first unproductive site and headed towards the next on their list.

“This one’s locked up tight,” Laney said as they approached the rusted gate that led toward the dilapidated building that had once been an active factory.  That had been a long time ago.  Now the crumbling red brick building that could be seen on the far side of the chain link fence was a sad sight indeed.  It had clearly been deserted for a very long time, and the years of neglect had not been kind to it.

“Let me try,” Evans said stepping forward. 

They had no time to try and chase down the owners of each of the facilities in order to get permission to enter or to find someone with keys.  Shortcuts were necessary in the name of expediency.  To that end Evans had an electronic lock pick which he could use to try and open any locks that barred their way.  In this case, the device was of little use.  The lock was so badly rusted that the mechanism wouldn’t respond to the device that tried to align the pins.

“Cut it off,” Susan Carlson commanded, impatient to get on with it.  She was already certain they wouldn’t find anything at this site, but one had to be thorough.

Jake watched as Laney worked the bolt cutters they had brought with them.  The lock snapped as Laney applied force to the handles, and moments later they were pushing aside the resisting gate and stepping into the weed covered and soggy grounds.  Jake had found watching Carlson instructive.  While the two agents, and himself for that matter, ducked their heads against the rain, Carlson simply accepted the weather and walked through it as though it was the mildest of irritants.  She seemed to retain her focus, and noted briefly in her log the fact they had cut the lock at this facility.  Jake was certain someone would be charged with replacing the lock and contacting the owner at some point in the future.

Inside they quickly discovered why this facility hadn’t been bothered like the previous one they had visited.  That one had been broken into, and a large number of homeless had been using it to live in.  Makeshift rooms were set up inside, including a number of small fires built on the concrete floors of the building.  They had encountered most of the current trespassers, which had been helpful because they could confirm that nothing unusual had taken place in the facility in recent weeks.  Here there was no one.  The roof had collapsed a long time ago and the what remained of the factory was mostly the exterior walls that for the most part were still standing.  Many of the interior walls, made of less rugged materials had collapsed into ruined piles of rubble.  It would have been possible to hide a bomb from casual view, but this wasn’t the kind of place Jake would have chosen.  Nonetheless, they made a sweep of the facility with the HPRID (High Performance Radioisotope Detector).  The place was clean.  Check another one off the list.

As they made their way back out to the street, Laney looped the broken lock through the catch in the gate.  It would hold the gate closed, but wouldn’t prevent anyone who wanted from simply lifting it out and going inside.  Jake couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to, or why anyone would care if they did.  This place needed to be torn down and something new built on the land.  It was surprising that such a derelict could be found so close to the center of town.

They splashed their way back to the SUV, climbed in, and headed off to the next place to check.  This one was more like the first.  Any locks that had been on the gate were long since gone, and the grass had been worn away from the numerous feet that had passed through.  Inside the echoing concrete walls they again found signs that many homeless had made this place their home.  Burned out remains of fire pits were common, and the walls were marked where individuals had designed their territory.  The big difference was the fact that no one was living here any longer.  The place was deserted and had been for some time.

“What was this place?” Carlson asked as their footsteps echoed through the cavernous spaces. 

“It was a cannery,” Evans replied.  “Been closed almost twenty years.”

“I wonder why they left?” Jim Laney asked, speaking of the transients, not the workers who had once been employed here.  “It’s as nice as the first place and that one is still occupied.  It’s dry, with lots of room.”

“Maybe the owner found them in here and had the local police chase them away,” Evans guessed.  “It can’t have been too long ago.  The grass would have grown over the path last summer.  We’ll have to ask the police what they know.”

Jake noted that the building was basically sound.  The walls were intact and the roof didn’t leak.  A couple of windows up high on the outer wall were broken, and several more cracked, but he could see that with a modest amount of renovation, it could be made serviceable once again.

They walked the length of the structure, using the HPRID to check for any sign that the place might hide what they sought.  The needle stayed stubbornly pegged at the bottom of the scale.

It was past noon when they finished checking off the site, and they returned to the vehicle.  At least the rain had stopped, and there was a hint that the clouds might be starting to drift away.  They had just climbed inside when Carlson got a call on her cellular.

“Let’s go back to the house,” Carlson instructed.  “The crew for the mobile units has arrived.  The vehicles are being brought into the area here.  I’ll need to coordinate their efforts.”

They dropped Carlson at the house, then the three of them continued on to the next place on their list.  They spent a fruitless afternoon and checked off three more places before they headed to the district police station where the various teams were to meet and review progress.

The police commander in charge of the effort was there ahead of them, and Carlson came while the meeting was in progress.  Her technicians didn’t need to be here and they could contact her if there was a need. Her mobile units would continue their sweeps while the rest of them planned and reviewed the status.

It took very little time to establish that little had been learned.  The police had received very little cooperation from the locals.  This was not surprising, as the residents had a long-standing distrust of cops, and would not reveal anything to them if they could avoid it.  It was bad business.  Even if something seemed out of place or potentially detrimental to the inhabitants of the ghetto, the cops really didn’t have the best interests of the residents at heart.  If something was going on, it was likely to be something that someone they didn’t want to anger was behind it, and who would make his displeasure known in a painful way if it was learned they had spoken to the authorities.  Best to be mute.  The lower class residents of the area, the druggies, the drunks, and the bums, often weren’t sober enough to provide useful intelligence. 

Less than twenty percent of the area to be searched had been covered thus far.  At the current rate they wouldn’t have completed their search by the time Jake’s deadline ran out.  They would continue to press, but with the night coming on, progress would be much slower until the morning.  It would be dangerous even for the police to try and work the area after dark.  The most useful information came from the badges that the officers had turned in after the completion of the shift.  None showed any signs of radiation above the normal background levels.

The next couple of days passed much the same.  The mobile units had swept the entire area and had found nothing.  Carlson had tasked them with repeating their sweep, taking special interest in the more deserted areas.  The police continued to find nothing, even after rousting some of their snitches, and Jake and the two FBI agents searched countless other buildings to no avail.

“A day and a half left,” Jake said as the three of them drove back to the house for the evening.  He felt they should continue the search, but he was dog tired and discouraged.

“So you say,” Laney replied. 

Jake could tell that Laney’s doubts had grown as they continued to find no sign of the weapon.

“I don’t think there is a bomb here,” Carlson said that night as they sat around the great room and reviewed their lack of progress.  “With the manpower we have put into this, some indication that something unusual was happening should have turned up, even given the lack of cooperation by the local populace.  In addition, there hasn’t been even the smallest sign of an usual radioactive trace in the area.”

Carlson looked at Jake.  He felt her doubts.  She had a lot riding on the outcome of this effort from a professional point of view.  It was due to her insistence they were here.

Jake gave voice to the thought he’d been having all afternoon.  “We haven’t found anything because it isn’t here yet,” he said.

“What are you implying?” Laney asked.

“I think the bomb will be brought in close to the time it is to be used,” Jake said.  “I’ve thought about it a lot, and have been watching the area.  You could bring almost anything into this area and it’s unlikely anyone would pay much attention.  Put it on a large enough truck, and drive it into place.  Walk away, then set it off.  Maybe it is triggered by remote control, and maybe it has a timer.”

“You’re guessing,” Laney replied.

“Yeah, I am.  But I know there will be a bomb, so if we can’t find it here now, then it might be because it isn’t here yet.”

“Maybe your information is wrong,” Evans said.  He didn’t know exactly how Jake fit in, and thought him to be some kind of consultant.  They had made a point of not sharing that their source of knowledge came from a hard to believe capability that Jake claimed to have.  Laney had enough doubts.  The earnestness with which the team would approach the problem would be seriously degraded if they knew the whole story. 

Carlson was considering the idea carefully.  “How large a vehicle would be required to bring something like this in?”

“I’m no expert, but I can’t see it fitting into a normal van,” Laney said.  “It would have to be something larger.  I think we should consult some of the experts.  That would give us an idea of what to watch for.  Then we could mount a watch for anything moving into the area of that size or larger.”

“If they did get into the area, they would want to keep it out of sight until it triggered,” Carlson said thinking out loud.  “That suggests they would want to hide it in one of the larger buildings.  That brings us back to the factories we have investigated.  Anything else simply wouldn’t work.”

BOOK: Corrector
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