by Lee Jackson
“I was thinking the same thing,” Atcho replied. “What resources will I have?”
“You’ll be picked up by helicopter in a few minutes and taken to King Abdul Aziz Air Base. A plane will pick you up there to fly you straight to Bergstrom Air Force Base outside of Austin. I’ll meet you there.”
Both Atcho and Horton were silent after Burly hung up. Horton spoke first. “Atcho, the next time you want to get together with me, could you arrange it down on Fiji or at Galapagos or somewhere nobody knows us and nobody we know knows we’re there?” He grinned.
Atcho smiled wryly. The whir of helicopter rotors sounded through the walls. “That’s a date. We’ll bring our wives. See you, my friend. My plane’s waiting.”
38
The small jet screamed onto the runway at Bergstrom, slowed to a halt, and taxied to the terminal. Atcho emerged onto a set of portable stairs. Burly waited for him at the bottom.
“Are you too tired to talk now?” Burly asked after greetings.
“Let’s get to it.”
They conversed as they walked briskly through cold drizzling rain. “Sofia’s waiting at your office. That’s a secure location. We can brainstorm alternative plans.”
“Any sign of Klaus?”
“None. The chatter died off some. That could be good, or it could be the lull before the storm. For him to come here will take a while—he can’t just fly straight in. We’ve got radiation detectors at all the major airports and at a lot of the smaller regional ones, particularly in Texas. He’ll have to come in another way. We have a few days to figure it out, but he has an organization behind him now. He’ll have a lot more resources and better intel.”
“They suspect something,” Yousef told Klaus. “Atcho’s wife drove to his company’s office. That’s the first time she’s done that since she returned. Two government sedans entered after she arrived. They seem to be having a large meeting.”
“Do we know who was in the sedans?”
“No.”
“Do we know where Atcho is?”
“Our people have not seen him in at least two days.”
“I’ll arrive in Mexico tomorrow. With any luck, I’ll be across the border by the next day and at the address where my packages were sent. Be sure I have good security there.”
Sofia waited for Atcho in his office at the company plant before the meeting. When the door closed behind him, she rushed to him and threw her arms around his neck. “I missed you so much.”
He held her close, and then stood back to look at her. Reaching down, he massaged the swell of her stomach. “Our little nugget is beginning to show.” He smiled. Then his face turned serious. “I wish we had more time to visit. People are already assembled in the conference room. We should go.”
“I know,” she said petulantly, “but when we get home, you’re all mine.”
Ivan greeted them at the door to the conference room. “I’m insulted that I had to be escorted in,” he joked, chuckling. Then he grasped Atcho’s shoulder. “It’s great to see you home in one piece.”
“Thanks for keeping my family safe,” Atcho replied, shaking his hand.
Besides Burly, Ivan, and Sofia, the field office director of the FBI and his counter-terrorism special agent, a senior member of the Texas Rangers, and the local chief of the Border Patrol were also present. When all were seated, Burly made introductions. “You’ve been briefed,” he began, “if you have questions, we can start with those, but the emphasis is on what we do about the threat. We believe this is the area where Klaus will strike, but other meetings like this are taking place around other likely targets.” He turned to the Border Patrol chief. “Why don’t you start out?” he said. “What’s being done along the boundary? It’s long and porous.”
“And difficult to defend,” came the reply, “but not impossible. The National Guard is on alert in all the states along the southern border. We have ground sensors and radar that give early warning of movement toward the US.”
“Won’t those be tripped by animals?” someone asked.
“Animals move more randomly. When we see patterns of deliberate movement northward, we position people to intercept along or near the line of travel.” He smiled. “Sometimes we see four-legged animals, and sometimes we catch those of the two-legged variety.”
“I’m guessing Klaus will try to cross in areas of infrequent migrant travel. How will you handle that?”
“The border is raggedy. In some places it’s flat, in others it straddles the Rio Grande. Mountains sit on top of it in some places, or it plunges into steep gorges. We’ll be monitoring the whole stretch in Texas—which is not the same as guaranteeing that we’ll catch Klaus if he tries to cross, but we’ll be able to move assets quickly when something turns up. Our counterparts in the other states are doing the same thing.”
Atcho listened to the discussion with interest, but his mind labored under travel fatigue while processing much of it. After the conversation had continued for an hour, he broke in. “If he hits in the Austin area, what do you think is the most likely target?”
Burly stared as if not comprehending the question. “You know where we think it’ll be,” he said, “your house.”
Atcho nodded. “Maybe,” he stemmed back a yawn, “but not necessarily. Klaus wants me dead, that’s for certain. My wife too. But he showed us that he’s both a tactical and a strategic thinker. He’ll want a target he sees as benefitting Islam. So, he’ll want to plant the bomb where there’s a good chance of taking both of us out, killing large numbers of other people, and doing strategic damage to US defenses.
“Mt. Bonnell sets on a bluff. The company is about a mile away, to the east, on flat ground. I’m no expert on nuclear weapons, but if he gets the house, would he get much else?”
Burly spoke up. “A blast on the side of the cliffs could have the combined advantages of both an airburst and a dirty bomb. It would shape the blast toward Austin. The radioactive debris would cover downtown. All the surrounding areas would suffer from fallout.”
“What about the air force base?”
“Bergstrom? That’s closing down next year. There’s not much left there now. The city of Austin plans to build a new airport on that site, but right now, as a strategic target, it’s not much. And it doesn’t get you.”
The room fell into silence as participants contemplated alternatives. Then, Sofia broke in. “Maybe we’re giving Klaus too much credit.” Questioning eyes swung her direction. “Look, he’s wily. He’s smart. He’s been able to stay a step ahead of us. As Atcho said, he’s even proved to be a strategic thinker. But how strategic?”
She paused to collect her thoughts. “He’s got a bone to pick with Atcho and he wants that settled. When he tried to detonate the bomb in Berlin, he hadn’t tested it. Same thing in Kuwait. We don’t know if the suitcases that went into the fire contained bombs, but we do know that his objective was to set off at least one there. We preempted him. Why would he suddenly decide he wants to test one in Afghanistan?
“It’s got to be that someone advised or directed him to,” Sofia continued, cocking her head to one side as if thinking out loud. “Klaus’ objective didn’t change. He still wants to kill Atcho—and me. His best bet of doing that is hitting us at our house, but he gets no strategic value.”
She paused, pensive “There’s another place where he would have a chance to take Atcho and me out and hit what is, at least in his mind, a strategic target.” She gazed around the room at the paintings on the wall, and at the sculpture of the cowboy on a bucking bronco on the conference table. “This building. This plant. This is where he has a good shot of meeting both objectives.”
Burly looked doubtful. “If he’s thinking strategically, this is a light target. He turned to Atcho. “As good as your technology is, it can still be replaced quickly by regular batteries, and he’s got no guarantee that he’ll get you in the process.”
“Think about this,” Sofia cut back in. “He’s a competent field
operator, but his formal education is not extensive. He knows little about the US. Our stories planted in newspapers about Atcho’s trip to Berlin built up in his mind the strategic importance of the power source. We know that in the grand scheme of things, it’s not that strategic. But for him, it might be.
“If he can take out this plant and Atcho at one swat, he’d be okay with that, and then come after me since he happens to be in the area. Downtown Austin is only two miles from the house and one mile from the plant. A bomb near this building would not only take out our plant, it would disrupt or destroy part of I-35 and Route 1 and take Camp Mabry with it. He’d get kudos for striking a US Army base. The blast could reach as far as Texas Stadium and a large part of the University of Texas. Austin would be flattened.”
“It would hit major neighborhoods on the east and west side of the river,” Burly acknowledged. “If the prevailing winds stay constant, the fallout would blow away from downtown, but with a blast that strong, we can’t count on that. Besides, upstream is the Mansfield Dam. It supplies drinking and irrigation water far downstream. Commerce, industry, food supplies, and the Colorado River below Lake Travis would remain radioactive for decades.”
He heaved a sigh. “While we’re being morbid, there’s one more element to consider.” His tone shifted to one of dread. “I don’t think Klaus will drop his bomb from the air. Too much chance of damaging the trigger or some other component. Besides, he’ll count on our having the airways sealed. I think he’ll plant the bomb.
“Your house, sitting as it does on the bluff, offers some unique aspects. If a nuke detonates high in the atmosphere, you get more heat over a wider area, but a lot of the radiation dissipates in the air. If it’s a ground burst, the area will be smaller but the destruction in that area will be greater, and the radiation lasts a lot longer. Detonated on the bluff, he’ll get a little of both an airburst and a ground burst.”
The room fell quiet again.
Ivan pursed his lips. “We’d better plan to react to both locations,” he said. “If he detonates, Klaus would have bragging rights all over the terrorist world. With Al-Qaeda’s support, he could reverse engineer the bomb design to make improvements. Once he gets Atcho out of the way, he can go about being the master terrorist for Islam he thinks he is. Believe me, his mojo in bad-guy circles would skyrocket.”
Burly’s brow furrowed. “I hate to do this, but here are two more pieces to the puzzle. We got results back from the team we sent to Afghanistan. They confirmed that the seismic event was a nuclear explosion. The trace material indicates a plutonium bomb with the same origin as the two we captured in Berlin.” He exhaled. “That means it was one of Klaus’ bombs. Obviously, it was viable. He has at least one more, and he knows how to copy them.”
“You said two pieces to the puzzle,” Atcho interrupted. “What’s the other one?”
Burly sighed. “The president is fully informed. He spoke with the governors in each of the states with likely targets.” He grimaced. “There will be no public warnings, no evacuations.” He looked around at the concerned faces. “You know why. Mass panic would only create more, easier targets. It’s a suitcase bomb. He can blow it anywhere. If Klaus can’t get to his objective, he’s likely to pick the closest one, get clear of it, and let ’er rip.”
No one spoke, most staring straight ahead. Atcho shook his head and then smiled, fatigue lining his face. “I sure do miss Horton.”
The others turned to him questioningly. Atcho chuckled. “We’re all so somber. Right about now, Horton would tell Burly, ‘If you ain’t got nothing positive to say, why don’t you just quit jackin’ your jaw.’ Then he’d point his finger at Ivan and say, ‘The way you talk, if I didn’t know you had been a communist, I’d prob’ly trust you with my girlfriend. So long as you don’t tell my wife. Good thing I got you figured out. What do you know about mojo anyways?’ Then he’d get tickled at his own joke.”
Tension broke as the conference participants laughed. Ivan brought the jocular tone back to earth. He rubbed his chin. “We need to do a better job of coordinating,” he muttered. Although he spoke in a low, thoughtful tone, his voice carried. He glanced up and saw that all eyes had swung to him.
“I’m not being critical,” he said. “Well, I could criticize myself.” He turned to Sofia. “You went to the FBI field office the other day, and we took no measures to hide that, despite knowing you were being watched. Same thing with this meeting today. A good guess is that Klaus already knows about both events.”
Chagrinned, Burly, Sofia, and Atcho nodded their agreement. “What a great bunch of intel pros we are,” Burly moaned. “OK, so he knows where your house is, and he knows where this plant is. What do we do about it?”
“He probably already knew those things,” Sofia said. “With the information Collins put in his articles, anyone could have figured it out.” Her irritation showed, and then she caught herself. “Sorry. Collins was a good man.”
Everyone sat in quiet contemplation. Atcho broke the silence again. “What if we give him the target?”
Sofia groaned. “Not again. You can’t be the bait again.”
“Hear me out,” Atcho replied. “He probably doesn’t know where I am, but thinks I’m coming here. With the errors made on Sofia’s FBI visit and the meeting today, he might think we’ve either become slack or overconfident. What if we make a few more mistakes? Maybe we could lure him into a target we choose on our schedule.”
Burly leaned forward. “Didn’t you already try that in Kuwait?”
“We did, but over there, he was the unknown quantity. We didn’t know his whereabouts.
“We don’t know where he is now either, but I’m betting he doesn’t know where I am. Let’s keep it that way. We’ll dangle me as prey in front of him like holding a treat in front of a dog. When he leaps for it, we’ll move it, and keep doing that until we get him.”
Sofia stared at Atcho. “Or until he bites your hand off,” she said brusquely, “or your head.”
Atcho stood and circled the table to stand behind her. He took her shoulders. “I’ll be fine.”
Sofia tossed her head, unconvinced.
“He won’t strike until he knows he can get me,” Atcho said. “Let’s take him on a wild-goose chase.”
39
Klaus’ journey from Kuwait had been long and tedious, but uneventful. Hassan had managed his safe passage through security and customs in Tripoli and arranged travel to Caracas. He had rested in Venezuela for a day before continuing on to Mexico. Once again, the network moved him smoothly through authorities to a waiting airplane. Within two hours of arriving in Mexico he landed on a dirt road less than two miles from the US border.
He spoke little to his guides, and they spoke to him only as needed. He leaned against a boulder and scanned the vista of jagged mountains extending out to the horizon. Scrubs were scarce. Only the vast blue sky provided visual relief to the monotony of desert brown. I might as well be in Afghanistan.
The leader took a flat parcel from his backpack and tossed it to Klaus. “Here, your new clothes and some equipment. Put those on and listen to me carefully.”
Klaus changed while the leader talked to him in English. “This is a good location to cross because the climb is steep. The other side of the mountain is just as rough. At the bottom, the Rio Grande is shallow and on the other side, the ground is flat.
“We expect to be discovered by the US Border Patrol. Don’t worry. We’ve been caught before. They’ll take us to the nearest border crossing and let us go.” He pointed to Klaus. “You cannot be caught.” He explained in detail what Klaus had to do.
Klaus watched the group prepare. They were well equipped with night-vision devices and small arms.
They waited until well past dusk. Then the group leader approached him. “This is where we leave you. Good luck.”
Klaus watched through his night-goggles as the group set out toward the rugged mountain ridge. His guide had chosen well. No moon. Ove
rcast. Ambient light was scarce, but sufficient for the goggles to amplify reflection to see the way ahead.
He checked a pants pocket. His precious package was there—a small, waterproof, lead box containing an infinitesimal amount of plutonium—and now he was only a short distance from the Great Satan. Soon, he would carry death and destruction into its belly.
“I just got a call from the Border Patrol chief,” Burly said. They sat in the conference room at the FBI field office. “We’ve got activity. Unfortunately, it’s spread along the border in several places. We have teams heading to each one.”
“How many places?” Atcho asked.
“Latest count, seventeen, and that’s just in Texas. We also have to contend with illegal aircraft crossings. The pilots will fly in and land on a straight stretch of road marked out with ChemLight or white plastic bags. They’ll touch down, let their passengers out and take off within minutes. Or, they’ll fly to a private airstrip on a ranch. We can’t go in because it’s private property. Corporations are buying up ranches for that purpose, so a lot of the time the authorities don’t even know who owns them.”
Atcho shook his head. “That’s a hell of a way to defend a country. You said seventeen ground crossings? Is that normal? And what about the airplanes. How many of those?”
“Hard to tell. The aircraft fly under radar. Seventeen is a high number in Texas for this time of year. Some are hard to get to, but others look like obvious diversions. The Border Patrol still has to check them out though, and that burns up resources.
“A new group just showed up crossing a ridgeline bordering Texas. Six men. They’re descending now. Once they cross the Rio Grande, we’ll have a welcoming party for them. Hopefully, Klaus will be among them.”
Klaus crouched alone in the dark, listening. Soon he heard the sound he sought, faint at first, and then rising in volume as it approached—the roar of an aircraft engine. He could not yet see it, and he felt awed by the daring of the pilot descending low over the face of the mountain. It reached flat ground and settled on a dirt runway marked out with ChemLight, the group’s last act before leaving Klaus alone.