He understood and accepted the dire constraints; that was part of the package when he agreed to become site manager. By supervising the Special Access Programs inside the Mountain—all of them—Harris held the keys to the kingdom. Only the President himself and Senator Pulaski, as chair of the oversight committee, could say the same. The Secretary of Energy and Secretary of State were not even cognizant of each other’s SAP. Here inside the giant mountain facility, the DOE, DoD, and State Department were like the three hear no evil, see no evil, and speak no evil monkeys.
And that caused problems.
Van Dyckman’s Valiant Locksmith was a vital program, yes, but Victoria Doyle’s Velvet Hammer was incredibly important, one of the last options the U.S. possessed if faced with an existential, nation-ending threat.
Ah, there it was. He scanned the paragraph. He’d been right: Velvet Hammer operated under State Department rules, not Energy. As such, Harris couldn’t even hint about its existence, or its potentially dangerous interactions with other SAPs in the Mountain, not even with the Energy Secretary herself.
So here he was—in a crisis, with a gag tied over his mouth.
The red headset clicked. “Rob, this is Caroline Nitta. How’s the review committee going? Is Dr. Garibaldi behaving himself?” Her youthful voice sounded pleasant, cheery. She had to know this was no social call!
He dropped the documents on his desk, devoting his full attention to the call. Perhaps she didn’t know why he’d called the emergency lockdown; after all, her high-profile experience as a public defender had secured her political appointment, and not her knowledge of DOE’s inner workings. “Yes, Madam Secretary. He keeps us all on our toes.” He paused, cleared his throat. “But right now our facility is under a precautionary lockdown due to a Class A mishap. I thought you needed to know.”
Secretary Nitta rustled papers over the encrypted phone, which sounded like a staccato pattern of raindrops hitting the line. “You mean the small aircraft in restricted space? I have the first-look assessment in front of me. Seems like it’s just an accident.” She paused, and he assumed she was scanning the material. “The intel folks don’t hear any chatter related to Hydra Mountain or the nuclear waste shipments. No one should have known about the review committee ahead of time, so this couldn’t have been planned in advance as an outright attack, like at Granite Bay. The downed aircraft seems more a case of inept flying in high winds, rather than a nefarious plot. Could be innocuous.”
Harris wasn’t ready to relax so quickly. “You may be correct, ma’am, but agency regulations call for a lockdown during any Class A incident. I’ll lift it as soon as I have confirmation that the crash was indeed accidental. Our teams are converging on the downed plane now. We have to be certain.” She shouldn’t be challenging her own rules.
“And you did exactly what you were supposed to, Rob.” She sounded a little patronizing. “Even if this was truly an accident, I’ve asked my Chief of Staff to set up a face-to-face with the Air Force Secretary to tighten the security envelope around Kirtland airspace in the future. Hydra Mountain’s too damned close to the Albuquerque airport. I want to make sure this never happens again.”
“Yes, ma’am, I agree. And, uh, thank you for letting Undersecretary Doyle participate on the review committee at the last minute,” he said. “I’m sure her knowledge will provide valuable insights as we complete the review—once the lockdown is lifted.”
“Yes,” Nitta said in a dry tone. “And she’ll also give Stanley some adult supervision.”
Harris started to respond, but kept his thoughts to himself; he’d always suspected that the young DOE Secretary and van Dyckman didn’t get along. Stanley’s direct line to the President must be unsettling to the meticulous Caroline Nitta.
Thank goodness for Victoria Doyle’s presence. Even if he couldn’t meet with her alone, he knew that the Undersecretary would recognize the danger as soon as she saw what van Dyckman had done in the lower level. She would understand the whole picture, just as he did, the possible cascade of unintended consequences. And as a DOE Undersecretary, Doyle had enough clout to call a halt to all this madness. “When she reviews Valiant Locksmith and the activities inside the Mountain, the Undersecretary can help us accurately assess the project.”
While Senator Pulaski did have access to the State Department SAP, the man didn’t have the technical background to understand the implications. Adonia Rojas and Simon Garibaldi did, and possibly Colonel Whalen; van Dyckman might, if he paid attention, but none of them knew anything about Velvet Hammer.
He knew, though, that Victoria would figure it out. He had brought them all together for that very purpose.
Rob continued on the secure line, “The good news is that when I placed the Mountain in lockdown, the facility was completely isolated from the outside.”
“And what’s the bad news?”
“Well, ma’am, although we recently upgraded Hydra Mountain to DOE standards, were still depending on legacy military systems to help cut costs, and those old systems weren’t meant to function with newer standards. The interface between the old and new systems is not as clean as we’d thought.”
Secretary Nitta sounded concerned. “Meaning?”
He knew he was going into too much detail, but she had to know. “When our current lockdown was initiated, a sensor that should have initiated a feature to herd intruders to the nearest security portal actually triggered another security feature designed to protect personnel against an attack. The review committee has been accidentally—and temporarily—confined to the first storage tunnel. One of my techs is sealed in a dry-storage vault as well. They’re all stranded.”
“Was anyone hurt?”
“No, ma’am, but Senator Pulaski is a little, uh, agitated, as is Mr. van Dyckman. He’s upset that the tour wasn’t a flawless demonstration of the Valiant Locksmith program. I’m sorry about that, Madam Secretary.”
“No one anticipated an unfortunate plane crash, Rob. Are they safe for the time being?”
“Of course. We should have them out the moment the lockdown is lifted. They just have to wait patiently in the meantime.”
“Patiently?” Harris heard a suppressed chuckle across the line. “Keep me in the loop, and give my regards to the Senator. It’s good for him to have some genuine in-the-field experience, and for Assistant Secretary van Dyckman as well. They both think the real world ends outside the Beltway.” She hesitated. “That was a good call on your part getting Undersecretary Doyle and Ms. Rojas on your committee. And a personal thanks for asking Dr. Garibaldi. We go back a long way.”
“Yes, ma’am. I remember.”
Still unsettled, Rob hung up the red phone and went to the window of his Eagle’s Nest, hoping to hear confirmation from his own people that the crash was as innocent as it seemed, that the pilot and his handful of passengers posed no national security threat. After that was confirmed, he could rejoin the review team and keep them moving along. He would insist that they inspect the rest of the Mountain, and he’d make sure the committee saw what he needed them to see.
Through the large window overlooking the operations center floor, he spotted a light blinking on an enlarged schematic of the Hydra Mountain tunnels. Another sudden flurry of activity on the floor sent a chill down his spine. What now?
He hurried back to his desk and scanned the monitor, unable to believe what he was seeing: a disruptive electronic signal had been detected in the first storage tunnel, a radiofrequency transmission! He caught his breath. Who was sending a signal? A transmission like that would trigger a series of countermeasures cascading through the sensitive safety and security systems!
He hit the intercom and his voice boomed out onto the ops center floor. “Who’s sending a signal? Who’s transmitting in there? That’ll cause—”
Before anyone had time to react, higher-level countermeasures automatically engaged to address the threat.
Simultaneously, the Mountain’s entire system crashed, free
zing the lockdown.
14
Right after the Senator activated his cell phone, another ratcheting alarm blasted through the tunnel. The deafening interruption startled him, but he seemed oblivious to what he had done. Pulaski scowled and pressed the phone against his ear, ready to shout as soon as anyone on his staff answered.
Shawn reached him first, grabbing his arm. “What the hell are you doing!” He tried to seize the cell phone.
Simultaneously, Adonia yelled, “Any signal will trigger RF sensors—”
The Senator yanked his arm away from Shawn, dropping the phone to the ground. As it clattered on the sealed concrete, Adonia dove for it, hit End Call, then powered it off, but it was too late. She held the phone and looked up at Shawn, her eyes wide as the emergency alarm continued to clang.
Pulaski looked at both of them, indignant. “What the—”
Adonia shook the phone in front of his face. “Your call just triggered another set of security countermeasures on top of the lockdown!” She wanted to strangle him, whether or not he was a senior senator. As she considered how he had just thrown the equivalent of a live hand grenade into all the interconnected sensors inside Hydra Mountain, the safety and security systems, the automated responses, she couldn’t articulate how furious she was.
Shawn barely restrained himself from shouting. “How many times were you told no electronics inside the Mountain? We couldn’t have been more clear!”
Pulaski looked at the two of them as if they were nothing more than insects. “You can’t talk to me like that. Hydra Mountain is under my oversight. This is an encrypted phone, approved by the NSA—”
Adonia made a disgusted noise. “Missing the point! With all the defensive systems in this facility, who knows what your signal just triggered?”
Garibaldi pursed his lips, rocked back on his heels. “Well, I think the technical term for the situation is ‘The shit has hit the fan.’ Good job, Senator.”
Booming alarms continued all around them.
Glaring, Pulaski turned to van Dyckman, but the other man looked just as distressed. His expression began to waver. “But what does it matter? I couldn’t even get a connection—all this rock must be blocking the signal.”
“You’re deep inside a mountain—of course you won’t get a signal,” Victoria Doyle said in a withering voice. “But your transmission triggered a lot of detectors and automatic countermeasures.”
Battling anger with every diplomatic skill he possessed, Shawn opened the thigh pocket in his battle fatigues and yanked out the blue electronics-storage bag. He took the cell from Adonia and zipped it inside the bag, which he held in front of the flummoxed Senator’s face. “I’m confiscating this phone. This packet is a miniature Faraday cage, so signals can’t get in or out.”
Pulaski raised his voice into the continuing alarms. “Colonel, I will have that phone back. It contains my calendar and all my contacts.”
With forced calm, Shawn secured the packet in his thigh pocket; Adonia knew him well enough to read even his well-concealed expressions, and she had never seen him so upset.
Shawn spoke in a measured tone. “Senator, you knowingly carried unapproved electronics into a classified, special-access area and put us all at risk. That could cost you your clearance and your committee position—if not time in jail. But if it makes you feel any better, the packet is padded and waterproof.” He patted his thigh. “You’ll get it back when we’re safely out of here.”
Pulaski seemed about to lash out, but faltered as he realized that everyone else in the group looked at him with equal consternation.
Adonia raised her voice over the continuing siren. “Listen up! Mr. Harris told us to stay close to the vault door—and not set off any sensors. Thanks to the Senator’s phone, we’ve already failed there, so let’s move back near the intercom. Maybe Rob can turn off this new alarm and get us out of here.”
Shawn’s voice was clipped. “First, does anyone else have electronics on them? Anything that might emit electromagnetic radiation—including smart watches? I thought we were perfectly clear, but I don’t want this to happen again. Last chance for amnesty.” He looked around the sheepish group, but no one produced undisclosed electronics.
As they headed back to the vault door that blocked off the main tunnel and the ops center, Garibaldi’s face scrunched up in a quizzical look. He sniffed deeply. “What’s that odor? I’ve smelled that before.” Then he coughed and staggered backward. “I remember that from one of the Sanergy protests that got out of hand. Tear gas!”
Adonia blinked, then shook her head and blinked again. Suddenly, she felt as though her skin erupted in a hot, painful rash. Her eyes watered and burned, and she started to gag, unable to breathe.
Pushing her way to the intercom, Doyle bent over and started to cough. “It’s … coming from up ahead, by the vault door. But that’s where we’re supposed to go!”
“That’s our exit when the lockdown ends,” van Dyckman said.
Garibaldi pointed down the storage tunnel to the metal door. “Look, the vents!” Small plumes of gas curled into the tunnel, crawling out of openings in the granite wall. The plumes quickly diffused into the air, but the vapor was apparent once they knew where to look.
Pressing hands over his ears against the continuing alarms, Senator Pulaski hunched over and turned in the other direction. He lurched down the tunnel, away from the vault door. “If it’s tear gas, then we have to get away.”
Blinking back tears, Adonia coughed as she yelled after him, “But … Harris told us to stay here!”
He retched out an answer. “Harris … isn’t … being gassed!” He staggered down the corridor away from the blocked exit. “I’m sure as hell not staying here.”
With increasing distress, Garibaldi bent over and also lurched away from the tear gas, reluctantly following Pulaski. “He’s … right. For once, the Senator seems to be doing the smart thing. Score another point for your wonderful system, van Dyckman.” He ran blindly, reaching out to feel the granite walls. “Harris told us this tunnel intersects with the one that leads down to the lower level. We can get out that way, and we’ll be away from the gas.”
Although Adonia could barely breathe herself, she clung to Harris’s instructions. She was in charge of these people, but the tear gas defense didn’t make sense. Security countermeasures were supposed to drive people toward an exit, to get them out of the facility in a dangerous situation, not push them deeper inside.
As the thickening gas burned her eyes, nose, and lungs, Adonia knew it would not be possible to remain in place, as Harris had instructed them. The Senator’s panicked retreat seemed more and more reasonable as the irritating gas thickened.
Coughing uncontrollably, van Dyckman hobbled after the two. “Get to the intersection with the incline,” he called ahead in a hoarse voice. “It’s another way to reach the main corridor, as well as the lower level. The system is working. It’s just a temporary glitch, but we have to wait it out … where we can breathe.”
Undersecretary Doyle followed them, while Adonia smeared her hands over the tears that flowed from her eyes, stubbornly hoping that Harris would cut off the gas and open the vault door as he had promised. They couldn’t wait any longer.
Shawn grabbed her elbow. “They’re right … and you’re responsible for their safety. Let’s go.”
The plumes of gas were like a toxic fog, still hissing into the confined tunnel and swirling around the vault door. No exit there. Unable to stand it any longer, Adonia and Shawn staggered away, following the others deeper into the facility.
They passed Mrs. Garcia’s closed storage chamber, and Adonia hoped the technician was safe from the noxious fumes. “We might have been better off sealed in there with her.” She coughed.
“No thanks,” Shawn said. “At least this way we can keep moving, get somewhere safe.”
Behind her, in addition to the clanging alarm, a new ear-splitting siren went off, making her whole body shake
. She didn’t recognize the distinctive tone as any standard alarm employed by the DOE. Maybe it was one of the old military countermeasures still functioning in the facility. But this was far worse than any alarm signal; it seemed to pierce her entire being. She pressed her hands against her ears as she careened forward. It wasn’t an alert; maybe some kind of sonic weapon?
The siren was only one component of the devilish cacophony. A deep, low reverberation rolled down the tunnel, an invisible force driving them from the vault door. Her entire body thrummed with the subsonic frequency, down to the marrow of her bones. The sound came in slow, crashing pulses, growing worse.
On the other end of the frequency spectrum, she barely detected a sharp, needle-like noise that pushed her eardrums to the edge of bursting. The ultrasonic dissonance seemed to slice through her head. This was a full-spectrum, multifrequency sonic attack!
She had no chance to think, could not choose where to go. She could only react. The sonic barrage drove her away, and she instinctively fled, anything to escape the overwhelming noise. She gasped for breath as the low subsonics seemed to squeeze the air out of her lungs, while the mid-range and higher frequencies shook her body, pierced her skull.
She could barely think through the pounding, shrieking pain. With her eyes burning from the tear gas, Adonia saw the others in front of her careening from one side of the tunnel to the other, like drunken partygoers.
Forcing some small amount of control, Shawn urged them faster, pushing them along, but no one paid attention. Senator Pulaski screamed wordlessly as he staggered along, his eyes closed, shaking his head back and forth.
Still pressing her hands to her ears, Adonia crowded in among the rest of the group as they kept trying to escape the noise. Shawn yelled something, but Adonia couldn’t make out what he said over the cacophony.
Kill Zone Page 10