by Frank Perry
target never knows he’s been painted. On crowded streets, all the cars can be scanned with a carbon dioxide laser, and the coated cars will have a bright violet glow. In this case, the bad guy’s cars would not glow.”
Luke asked, “How would it be deployed? Do we need to have the laser positioned close to the top of every car?”
“No, The best way would be to be located a hundred feet above the street, probably on top of buildings. From the right place, you could scan several blocks.”
Luke said, “Ben, we need your help. Can you come here with enough apparatus and chemicals to help us?”
“Agent Gallagher, I’ll get back to you ASAP. If I can get clearance to use a military cargo plane at Andrews, we can probably be there in a few hours.”
Luke thanked him and was confident they would get military cooperation.
Drug Enforcement Agency
That afternoon, a caravan of DEA trucks arrived at Andrews AFB, just outside Washington DC. Andrews is a special Air Force base, responsible for maintaining emergency reaction capabilities critical to national security. With authority from the President, there was a C-17 Globemaster III airplane landing from the Air Mobility Command at the 437th Airlift Wing, Charleston AFB, S.C. to carry classified equipment to Chicago.
The Globemaster was the newest cargo aircraft in the Air Force. It can carry fully loaded trucks weighing over eighty tons. The DEA trucks would be landing at O’Hare airport in less than two hours.
Angela was in charge of organizing the program for coating all of the legitimate taxis. The program was codenamed “Operation Washdown.” It was a big undertaking, convincing the owners to cooperate, coordinating carwash facilities; and it all had to be done quickly. She also had to locate inoperable cars and mark them.
Once the cars were marked, tactics would need to be developed to neutralize the bomb-carrying taxis. That operation would be under Peter Shields. This assignment was code named, “Operation Snakebite.” Both operations required personnel, equipment and training; and, they both had to be conducted without alerting the terrorists or alarming the civilian population.
Peter and Rachael
At the office, Peter sat at an old Steelcase desk placed randomly in the open bullpen along with dozens of other people. Rachael stopped by his desk around eight o’clock at night, “Hey, how about we go out for something to eat.”
“Ah...okay.” He wasn’t sure why she asked. “Do you want me to drive?”
“Why don’t we walk? There’s plenty of food around here and it’s a nice night.” She suggested that they walk to the university student union, which had a food court.
As they walked, Peter wondered if this was a purely professional or partly social stroll. If so, it had been many years for him.
Exiting the building, she asked, “So, where did you grow up?” She had read his file.
“I grew up in a coalmining town in Pennsylvania.” He guessed from her mannerisms that she was from an upper class background, probably in the Northeast. As he described his early years, she seemed interested. He began regarding her on a personal level. “Pretty basic upbringing. Kind of an eighteen-and-out place, unless you wanted to work in the mines. So I joined the army.”
She was tall and slim with straight brown hair. She had beautiful skin and looked more like a model than a Government worker. She was smart and pretty.
“I guess I consider the army home now.”
“But you left?”
“Yeah, I had to work out some issues. Something happened. I kind of needed to rethink what I wanted from the Army.”
They crossed over Roosevelt Road and followed the sidewalk to the student union. They were quiet for several moments. Rachael was accustomed to male reactions in her presence.
Peter said, “Can I ask about you?”
“Sure, what would you like to know?”
They entered the student union, and continued personal profiling while ordering pizza by the slice. Rachael had grown up in Connecticut and attended Boston College, graduating in political science. She then went to law school at Georgetown University. After graduation, she went to work with the Defense Department. Her legal background was initially useful evaluating compliance with international arms treaties, as they related to US Foreign Military Sales (FMS). A couple years later, she found herself promoted to a position in the intelligence directorate, which she could not discuss in much detail.
As supper advanced to coffee, she let Peter know that she had seen his military file. She was able to read the classified sections. She was curious why anyone would volunteer for some of the missions he’d taken.
He answered, “Well, I don’t have a death wish if that’s what you think.” Looking down at his hands, he continued, “I did well in training and needed the challenge. I like the special operations more than the larger Army bureaucracy.” He’d found a profession for which he was uniquely suited.
She wanted to know more, if he would share, about the mission in Syria to capture Razzaq. He had resigned his commission after the failed mission.
He couldn’t look at her, “It’s a little hard for me to talk about.”
“What was it that caused you to leave the Army?”
He started to talk about abandonment. When he reached the border, he was the only survivor of his squad. He was embittered by a fellow soldier’s refusal to help. The experience left him bewildered and questioning the sincerity of the code of honor. Since then, he’d learned to rationalize it from a military command viewpoint, but he no longer felt he could lead men to their deaths after the raid. Rangers are trained for these missions and understand the risks, but maybe he had been on too many missions. He wanted to try a different way of life. He was uncomfortable talking about it, and she did not pursue it further.
On the way back to the federal building, they took a longer route, walking slowly. Rachael wanted to amend the tenor of her interrogation, and Peter felt a sense of peace being with her. He said, “Look, I’m sorry to get so melancholy; not much practice at small talk.”
She put her arm through his and slowed the cadence slightly, “Peter, I shouldn’t have pried. It’s related to my job, sort of.”
“Hum” was his response as he kept his gaze down toward their feet.
Rachael went on, “I really enjoyed hearing about your childhood, it sounds so rich in values. It’s not how most people are raised today.”
“I wasn’t THAT much of a boy scout. Well actually, I was an Eagle Scout.” He had a smile on his face. “Look, I know you’re doing your job, but I enjoyed having someone to talk to, even if it was a psych exam.”
“It wasn’t that bad!”
As they reached the building, Peter said, “Okay, maybe we could do this again after this is over, without having a business agenda.”
Rachael responded, “I think I would like that.” She was looking at his eyes.
Operation Washdown
Ben Harris was on the Globemaster along with tons of materials. He had drained all DEA supplies from their warehouse in Montgomery County, and ordered more Hotwax to be expedited from the factory. He’d packed for several days. As a “lab rat” he did not go into the field often and he was enjoying the break from a back room environment to something closer to an operational role.
As the aircraft landed, it taxied to the American Airlines cargo hanger. In 1993, the Illinois Air National Guard moved from O’Hare to Camp Lincoln in Springfield to more effectively coordinate its efforts with the Adjutant General’s staff and the Army National Guard leadership. Today, however, it was considered more prudent to land closer to Chicago in the interest of time.
One of the features of the C-17 is its ability to offload all cargo in just a few minutes after touchdown. As the rear ramp lowered, trucks began rolling off immediately. They were met by members of the Illinois National Guard and escorted to the Army Reserve depot at Ft. Sheraton, north of Chicago. Ben Harris was met
by an FBI agent and driven to the federal building downtown.
For the next two days, Ben worked with the federal teams, developing the two operational plans. By Thursday morning, Operation Washdown was underway. To be successful, Charlie Jones needed to involved, but with restricted information about the plan. Ben would not allow a civilian to know anything about the Hotwax process, so they had to develop a sham explanation. Until the whole process was completed, Jones would work at the federal building with every phone call monitored. He would coordinate with the taxi owners.
The plan involved an explanation that certain Patriot Cabs had been dusted with anthrax spores and that the Governor had ordered them inspected at a Government garage. Once in the garage, pressure washers would be used with the Hotwax. Five locations were set up which could handle all the cars. Two and a half days were planned to complete this task. Other arrangements were made on a case-by-case basis for disabled cars. Jones was advised about what to say.
The program was difficult to manage with logistics issues that caused some delays. The operation took longer than expected. Jones cooperated well throughout the process and had to deal with grief from almost all drivers. Part of Angela’s job was keeping his spirits up. One of the tasks was screening all vehicles and driver backgrounds and longevity with the cab company. Radiation sensors were also used. By Saturday, Operation