Plot counterplot, p.32
Plot/Counterplot, page 32
“And her,” Jerrie added. “So the best thing you can do is get out of their way.”
Ever the professional, Eustace suppressed his temper. But Seamus knew it was there, just the same. “When I start taking orders from some pencil-nosed nerd with a pocket protector, they can roll me up and file me under Dead.”
“Let’s just file you under Impotent. I’m the Senior Officer in my department. Where a state of emergenCy exists involving a scientific threat, I have seniority. I’ve declared a state of emergenCy. That means that, as concerns this matter, I outrank you.”
Eustace fell silent. Which Seamus assumed meant what Jerrie had said was true.
When Eustace finally spoke, it was short and succinct. “I took him off this case.”
Jerrie looked at Seamus, not Eustace. “I’m putting you back on. And I’ll go to Eustace’s supervisor, if necessary, to explain why this case is more important than anything else the NCTC is working on. We’re not going to dick around with the usual spy games while someone steals a weapon capable of reshaping the geopolitical map.”
Seamus’ eyebrows rose. Eustace pivoted on his heel and left the room.
“Don’t screw this up, Seamus,” Jerrie said. “I know Miss Kahale wants to retrieve her boyfriend. But the stakes are much higher now.”
“How many volcanoes can there be on the Big Island?”
The expressions on the faces of everyone in the room provided his answer.
“Then I’d better get started. Thanks for your help.” Seamus’ cellphone beeped. He scanned the text.
“Brilliant timing. It’s Kurasagi. He’s tracked down Dylan’s signal.”
Chapter 67
Mr. X laid Dylan’s op notes on the conference table. She was smiling.
“I’ve got to hand it to you, Dylan. This is brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. Even better than before. The latest refinements are sublime.”
Dylan attempted to be modest. “I don’t think I’d go that far.”
“I would. You’ve accessed your creative skills and employed them in this new context with amazing adaptive skill. It’s genius. Don’t you think it’s genius, Xavier?”
He shrugged. “Ish.”
“Does that mean I get a raise?” Dylan asked.
“Yeah,” Xavier said, “we double your salary. Double nothing is nothing.”
Everyone had thoroughly reviewed his plan and they all seemed content. More importantly, they seemed to think it was possible. Not easy, by any stretch of the imagination. But possible.
“May I interrupt this lovefest?”Mikala asked. “I have some serious concerns about my role in this operation.”
“Which part?” Dylan asked.
“All of it,” she replied. “I don’t need to be in the field again. I can teach you how to do the encryption work.”
“Possibly,” Dylan responded. “But we have to be prepared for the unexpected. That’s why I want you in there.”
“As do I,” Mr. X echoed.
“I have concerns, too,” Tolga said, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I don’t think I can do this. I don’t think anyone can do this. You’re asking me to achieve the impossible.”
“You should take that as a token of my esteem for your abilities,” Dylan said.
“I wouldn’t mind if you esteemed me a little less. That last mission hurt like hell. This one will be worse.”
“You don’t have to crawl through narrow spaces.”
“I have to dance around thick-necked MPs with big guns.”
“You’ll be fine,” Dylan assured him. “If there are any unanticipated problems, Xavier will be in our ear solving them.”
“Which brings us to my objection,” Felix said. “I belong in the van, not in the field. This plan requires me to actually remove my fingers from the laptop. I’m not liking that so much.”
“No choice,” Dylan said. “I need another person on the infiltration team. Xavier isn’t an option—he might be recognized. And we may have computer issues. So the logical choice is you. Look, stop worrying, people. You’re pros. You’re smart. We’ll waltz through this.”
“Why do I not think it will be that simple?”Mikala asked.
Xavier chuckled. “No one think it will be simple.”
“Why do you need the GPS chips?” Mr. X asked.
“I’m going to plant one in the admiral’s phone. It will help us locate his office later. It will have to be small, and I’ll need to know the frequenCy.”
“I don’t understand why you need rubber-soled insulated shoes, either. Those are designed for hazardous electrical work.”
“I’ll be handling the Taser XREP2 pistol.” This weapon, as they all knew, could emit a standard electrical charge on contact, or it could fire tiny electrified darts that induced unconsciousness for up to half an hour. “This baby can transmit over 100,000 volts—more than twice the maximum strength of anything you can buy on the legitimate market.”
“Which brings us to my suggestion,” Xavier said. “I think you should carry gun. Real gun.”
“I don’t need it.”
“I think you do.”
“I’ll get by with the taser.”
“MPs at PACOM will be packing guns.”
“And I’m not likely to outshoot any of them.” Dylan looked at him levelly. “I’ll make this operation a success. But I’m not a murderer. I would never intentionally hurt anyone. And I certainly will not kill. Ever.”
Xavier folded his arms and frowned.
“You’ll have the tools provided by the medical specialists,” Mr. X said. “And then there are other chemicals...?”
“To make a protective spray. We need to be shielded against neutrino radiation. We don’t want to risk being contaminated.”
“You didn’t hear my objection to my role in this operation.” This was Marco. Just hearing his voice made Dylan’s skin crawl. “My objection is—I don’t have a role.”
“And you never will,” Dylan said firmly. “Not in any operation of mine.”
“Don’t tell me you still got hard feelings about—”
“I do not have hard feelings,” Dylan said, cutting him off. “I simply don’t trust you.”
“Does not matter, Marco,” Xavier said. “You have big role in Phase Two. When I am in command.”
“I have a question,” Felix said, raising his hand. “Who am I taking instructions from?”
Xavier answered. “Dylan, of course.”
“Unless you override his authority.”
“Dylan is in charge.”
Dylan raised an eyebrow. “And you won’t be hovering over my shoulder?”
“You have free hand. You can...improvise.”
How long could he improvise, he wondered, till that little remote control device in Xavier’s pocket fried some more of his brain cells? Not long, he suspected.
“Let me explain what will happen if you deviate from plan.” Grinning, the blond giant pulled the detonator out of his pocket.
“Don’t do it,” Dylan said, but he was already too late. Xavier pushed the red button.
Dylan braced himself—
Nothing happened.
“On timer,” Xavier explained. “You have twelve hours to complete mission. If you do, good. I shut it off. If you don’t—” He shrugged.
“If you don’t,” Mr. X explained, “the nanites will eat your brain. And this time, they will have a feeding frenzy. They won’t stop until there’s nothing left.” She pulled him close. “We won’t have to kill you, Dylan. Because if you haven’t succeeded in twelve hours, there will be nothing left of you.”
Chapter 68
Dr. Kurasagi explained his work to Seamus in layman’s terms, which was welcome. He’d had enough science today to make his head hurt for weeks. He didn’t need to know the ins and outs of smart dust, or how a single frequenCy can be isolated from tens of thousands of possibilities.
“...so I determined that the frequenCy was most likely in the high range of the spectrum, indicating—”
Seamus cut him off. “Where is he, Doctor?”
“Well, er, I was explaining—”
“I know, and I’m sure it would be fascinating if I understood it, but I don’t. I just need to know where he is.”
Kurasagi cleared his throat. “I was getting to that.”
“So do it already!” Leilani yelled.
He tugged on his lab coat. “As I was saying, I traced the signal from the blood sample you gave me to the Big Island.”
“Can you narrow the location a little?”
“Not as much as I’d like. It’s been weeks since he got his injection. The signal is growing faint.”
“Can you give me anything?”
“Go north.”
“How far north?”
“Top third of the island.”
Seamus punched that into his iPhone map. “Thanks, doc, you’ve been terrific. Come on, Leilani.”
She raced out the door with him. “But where are we going? Which volcano?”
He grabbed his coat. “The one with the power to overthrow nations. Before someone does exactly that.”
Chapter 69
4:02 p.m.
11 hours, 15 minutes left
Dylan checked the rear view mirror in the van.Mikala was behind them in her preposterously big SUV. It made no sense for a tiny person driving alone to have a car like that. But then, that was what he saw every time he went to the supermarket. Maybe people would assume she had children, although if so, she would’ve had to start when she was twelve. In any case, it would make the helpless-female routine go down easier.
He wasn’t worried about it. When those big service-oriented Navy boys got a look at her in that skimpy outfit, they’d be fighting to be the first to help. He hoped.
He turned the van left and got in line in front of the PACOM guardpost.
“Ready?” he asked.
Felix sat in the passenger seat in beige coveralls, wringing his hands. He’d removed his facial jewelry and put makeup over his tattoos to give himself a more conservative appearance. Even shaved the soul patch. “Did I mention that I have no field experience whatsoever?”
“About thousand times or so.” Xavier sat in another much larger vehicle about five hundred feet away, manning the computers and orchestrating communications.
“This should be you in here taking stupid risks. Not me.”
“You’ll do fine. This should be easy. If we don’t run into any trouble.”
“That’s a pretty damn big ‘if.’”
“If it were easy, what fun would it be?” Dylan pulled up to the guardpost, smiling at the Navy MP on duty, and rolled down his window. “Delivery for the admiral. From Los Alamos. I’m Dr. DeWinter.”
The guard checked his computer screen. “Yes, you’re cleared.”
Of course they were cleared. Felix had hacked in earlier and added the pseudonym to the log. He couldn’t hack into the main PACOM computer network. That was too well protected. But here in the guardpost they used a stand-alone laptop with an internet connection. Child’s play.
“You can proceed to the Terminal Five, sir. We’ll take care of you there.”
Dylan smiled and shifted into Drive.
* * *
Sure,Mikala thought, Dylan could smile. He had Felix for company. She was on her own. But as Dylan had explained, her aloneness would increase the appearance of helplessness and vulnerability, which would be key to making this work. And dragging it out as long as possible.
Once it was her turn to pull forward, she reached under the dash and pushed the button that would release the pressure-packed box hidden under the hood. A moment later, white smoke streamed out. She braked several times spasmodically, simulating an engine problem, then slammed her brakes and turned off the SUV. Traffic piled up behind her.
All right, she said, glancing at the mirror. Time to put on the angry face. Helpless and sexy, but angry. “Frustrated” was the word Dylan had used, when he explained her character. “Angry” is off-putting, he warned, but “frustrated” makes guys want to run to the rescue.
She got out of the car and slammed the door behind her. “Not again!”
She walked to the front of the car and popped open the hood, seemingly oblivious to the other cars or the MPs running down from the guardpost. There were two of them, which meant there would be only two left to search Dylan’s van.
The driver from the car behind her and the two guards arrived at the same time. All three were Navy officers. She stared into the bowels of the engine, her face the picture of despair.
One of the guards stepped to the forefront. Despite his youth, he had a take-charge attitude that almost immediately made the other two fade to the background. “Yeoman Briggs, ma’am. What seems to be the problem?”
“I wish I knew. This stupid car has been a lemon since the day it rolled off the lot.”
“Sorry to hear that, ma’am.” The kid couldn’t be more than twenty and he was being scrupulously correct, even standing a respectful distance from her, though his eyes were rather less respectful. “You might want to stand away. That white smoke probably means it’s hot. When did you last put in oil?”
“Does this car need oil?”
The tiniest trace of a smile crept into Briggs’ face. “Looks like you probably take 10W-40. There should be some in the garage. If you’ll wait a moment, I’ll get it. We’ll let the car cool down, then add some oil and water and see if that helps.”
“Well...sure. If you think that’s the thing to do.”
“I do.” He turned to his partner. “Marshall, get some water from the kitchen. Then get the oil from Automotive.”
“Will do.”
Lani drained a little “frustration” from her face and added some “eternally grateful.” “Thank you. I do appreciate this. Perhaps you can let me show my gratitude in some way.”
“That’s not necessary, ma’am. We’ll have to roll your car off to the side, though. Can’t let you block traffic.”
“Right.” Except—that was the whole point. Dylan and Felix could distract two guards at the x-ray scanner. But four might be pushing it. And there was no way they could shield themselves from passing cars.
So she had to make sure there were no passing cars. At least not until Dylan was done. But if this guard rolled her car away, they were finished.
Chapter 70
4:12 p.m.
11 hours, 5 minutes left
Dylan pulled his van up to the x-ray device. It was, he knew, similar to the scanners at airports, except larger and more powerful, and built to accommodate sizeable objects.
“Sorry for the inconvenience, sir,” the guard said. “But we’ll have to scan any containers you plan to bring into the facility.”
“No problem.”
“That includes your...”
He could see the guard was trying to avoid the word “purse.” “Messenger bag,” Dylan supplied as he handed it to him.
The man scanned it, looked puzzled for a moment, glanced at Dylan, then looked away. No doubt wondering why a man with such short hair carried hair spray. Let him wonder. It didn’t violate any security protocols.
“Anything else you’re bringing in?”
“Yes. We’ve packed everything we’ll need into this case. Bart, can you help me?”
Felix slid out a silvery steel case, like an attaché except much larger, about three feet long and a foot wide. They each took a handle and made it appear as if it were heavier than a dwarf star. They slowly lowered it onto the scanner.
Dylan and Felix waited patiently while the second MP inspected the insides of the case. “Is that...radioactive?”
“It is,” Dylan answered, “and it’s decaying. Neutrinos are made from radioactive decay.” He watched the man’s eyebrows rise. “But you won’t die just because you drop it.”
The guard nodded. He switched off the machine. “You can take your case now.”
“Thanks.” This time, unlike before, Dylan lifted it by himself. The strain was evident.
“Need some help with that?”
“No, I got it.” He swung the case high into the air...almost all the way to the van...then collapsed.
“Ahhh!” Dylan dropped the case. It slammed to the pavement with a thud. He rolled forward, clutching his chest.
“Sir!” Both MPs rushed forward, crowding around him. “Is something wrong?”
“It’s...my heart.” He gasped for air. “Need...pills...bum ticker...” Did he really just say “bum ticker?” Too bad there was no chance to edit.
“Call the EMTs,” the first guard said. The second activated the walkie-talkie on his shoulder.
“Feel like...I’m gonna explode...” That was better dialogue. Not much better, but a little.
“Hang on, sir. We’ve called for help.”
“I—I—I—” Dylan grabbed a stiffened left arm. “I—feel faint.”
“Sir, please do not attempt to move. Can you breathe? Is your respiration obstructed?”
“I—I—I—”
“Can you speak to me?”
“I...I think I’m going to be okay.” Dylan eased the gasping, began to breathe more normally. “Maybe I should stand—”
“No,” the guard said. “Don’t exert yourself.”
“I don’t wanna be any trouble...”
“Please listen,” the second guard said. They were both hovering over him, oblivious to anything going on behind them. “My father died of a heart attack. It’s nothing to take lightly. Wait for the experts. They’ll tell you if you’re okay.”
“I guess there’s no hurry.” Dylan closed his eyes and struggled to take another deep breath. “If you’re sure.”
“Just take it easy.”
“Don’t want anyone to think I can’t do the job. I need the work...”
“I understand. But let’s be sure first.”
“All right.” He glanced beyond them. “You okay, Bart?”
“Geez, Sam, don’t worry about me.” In this scenario, Felix’s nervousness seemed appropriate. “We’re still ahead of schedule. Just rest till the docs arrive.”
