Thirst for Justice

by David R. Boyd

  “Sir, I’m afraid this incident came straight out of the blue. No warnings, no rumors, nothing. No chatter in recent weeks, either domestically or internationally. I strongly recommend putting the nation on red alert, in light of the threat that the next attack could be even deadlier and could occur in less than two days.” The Department of Homeland Security, in theory, was supposed to create a more integrated approach to intelligence and security. However, Osborne was somewhat of a lame duck, often left out of the loop and prone to reckless decisions in the hope of making a lasting impression.

  “Affirmative on the red alert,” the president agreed. “We’ve got to assume that there’s a serious risk of further attacks. Two days is a tight timeline, and the clock’s already running. We have to nail these bastards fast and stop them from following through on their threat. I may have to call up the National Guard to defend the water supplies and treatment facilities of all major American cities. Randall?”

  Tierney spoke so quickly and quietly that he was almost hard to hear. “With respect, sir, I hope it doesn’t come to that. We’ve done threat assessments, and there isn’t enough manpower in the entire U.S. armed forces to adequately patrol all of those places, even if we brought all of our troops home from overseas and called up the reserves. We’ve dispatched more than four hundred agents and crime scene analysts as well as a dozen of our best canine units to Seattle to make sure the locals don’t screw up the physical side of the investigation. We have agents on the water, in the water, in the air, and on land. We have aerial reconnaissance units sweeping the entire perimeter of the watershed for possible entry points. The agent in charge of our Seattle field office is one of our best men. Unfortunately, it has been raining heavily since investigators hit the ground. The most promising lead so far is several recent sets of unauthorized off-road vehicle tracks on the northeastern edge of the reservoir. Preliminary indication is that they’re from within the last forty-eight to seventy-two hours. We have a mobile evidence processing unit at the reservoir and are attempting to identify the tread patterns and specific make of the vehicles.”

  “Any eyewitnesses? Are you getting full cooperation from the local authorities?”

  “Cooperation yes, but no witnesses. We’re hoping the $25-million reward jogs a few memories or loosens a few tongues.”

  “Make it $50 million,” the president interrupted. “Money talks. Now what were you saying, Randall?”

  “We’ve had no jurisdictional hassles. The Seattle police department recognizes that this is a potential terrorist attack, so we call the shots. The watershed is off limits to the public, so evidence of recent human activity stands out, but it’s 90,000 acres of densely forested wilderness with a network of old logging roads. Local law enforcement officers are doing a door-to-door sweep of residents living in proximity to the reservoir, mostly farms and recreational properties. I’ve got our computer experts working double-time tracing the emails. That’ll give us our first clear indication about who’s really behind this mess. In sum, we’re working every lead with due diligence. But my honest assessment is that we have a long way to go and not much time to get there.”

  Stryder scoffed. The directors of the FBI and CIA hated to cooperate. “Look, we’ve already figured out that this is a terrorist attack. It’s obviously jihadis, though we don’t know if it’s ISIS or a breakaway group. We’re monitoring Al Jazeera for claims of responsibility and checking with our agents in the Middle East. Right now we’re focusing our attention on Iraq, Syria, Pakistan, and Afghanistan.”

  “What makes you certain it’s jihadis?” Cassie asked, skeptical about going on a wild goose chase before more facts were known.

  “Seriously?” Stryder responded with thinly disguised contempt.

  “Why would they attack Seattle?” Cassie kept probing.

  Stryder rolled his eyes. “Sources embedded in Pakistan, Afghanistan, and Africa consistently tell us that American water and energy infrastructure are priority targets.”

  The Director of National Intelligence, General Orrin Matthews, weighed in. “It’s not necessarily ISIS. There are all kinds of splinter groups, copycats, and homegrown terrorist cells. They all have one thing in common—a big hate-on for America.”

  “It also fits the profile of a disgruntled employee, a jilted lover, or a single lunatic like the Unabomber. Why don’t we gather some evidence before we jump to conclusions?” Cassie wasn’t backing down. Stryder, Tierney, and Matthews reminded Cassie of a trio of bloodhounds, baying uncontrollably in their hard-wired enthusiasm for the hunt, stumbling over each other to be in the lead.

  “We also shouldn’t rule out the possibility of domestic terrorist groups,” Tierney added. “Ecoterrorists are number two on our domestic terrorism priority list. The Animal Liberation Front and the Earth Liberation Front are both highly active in the Pacific Northwest. ELF burned down a research lab and destroyed the Center for Urban Horticulture at the University of Washington a number of years ago. And torched two buildings and several vehicles at Clatskanie, Oregon, the same day.”

  “Randall’s got a good point, sir,” Matthews agreed. “Eco­terrorists are armies without generals, bases, or equipment. Their command structure, strategies, and communication techniques remain shrouded in mystery despite years of persistent counter­intelligence efforts to penetrate their organizations. As far as we can tell, there are sleeper cells scattered across America. Instead of frustrated Muslims, these are radical environmentalists disenchanted with the capitalist system, paranoid about the future of the planet, and eager to stick a wrench in the wheels of progress.”

  “Poisoning Seattle’s water supply seems like an odd choice for radical environmentalists,” said Cassie. As a younger woman, she would have been so inflamed by Orrin Matthew’s polemic that her tongue would have been tied. Now she found his posturing almost comical. What was not funny was that these close-minded reactionaries were in charge of national security.

  Tierney stood up. “I’m getting an update. Back in a minute.”

  “We need to get in touch with our Canadian counterparts. Remember Ahmed Ressam, the millennium bomber?” Stryder continued to push the terrorist angle.

  “Who was that?” the president asked.

  “He was planning to bomb Los Angeles International Airport on New Year’s Eve, 1999. Trained in Afghanistan, lived in Montreal. We caught him with a car full of timers, detonators, and explosives as he came off a ferry from Canada entering Washington State.” Catching Ressam was one of the biggest victories in the American war on terror, and Stryder mentioned it whenever he could. He also made it sound like his agency deserved the credit when it was actually a random inspection by a U.S. Customs agent in Port Angeles.

  The president switched topics. “Let’s talk about the poison, this perc that was used in the Seattle attack.”

  “Nasty stuff. Really bad,” Osborne piped up.

  “How nasty?”

  “Well, you wouldn’t want to drink a glass of it. Or inhale a lung full of it. It’s acutely toxic, carcinogenic, screws up your internal organs, and may cause birth defects.” It was Cassie’s turn to roll her eyes.

  “That does sound really bad,” the president said. “Are people getting sick in Seattle? Any deaths yet?”

  Cassie had to jump in. “Mr. President, all of the test results from water sampling so far indicate that the perc was diluted to a level ranging from six to eleven parts per billion. While this slightly exceeds EPA standards for drinking quality, both toxicologists and epidemiologists at the Centers for Disease Control have assured me that there is virtually no short-term health risk.”

  Osborne objected. “That’s junk science. Despite Ms. Harden-Hernandez’s assurances, we are receiving reports of increased visits to doctors’ offices, walk-in clinics, and emergency wards in Seattle. People are suffering from stomach ailments, nausea, dizziness, headaches, etc. The public has gone into
a bottled water buying frenzy.”

  “If people are getting sick, Cassie, then maybe those scientists you mentioned need to get out of their labs into the real world.”

  Cassie squared her shoulders to face the president directly. “Sir, every expert with whom I’ve spoken agrees that the levels of PCE in the water supply are too low to cause acute health effects. But people don’t always listen to the experts. They overreact when an event like this occurs. These are psychological reactions, not physiological responses. Like spikes in crime during a full moon.”

  “All right. Either way, we need to keep people calm. Cassie, I want statements about the safety of Seattle’s drinking water from the head of the Centers for Disease Control and some independent doctors. I’ll quote them in my speech to the nation.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Now can we trace this perc back to a specific source? Where did the terrorists get it from? I’m sure that it’s not sold at Walmart.”

  “No, not at Walmart, but it’s not like this stuff is sold under lock and key or treated like nuclear waste. You can order huge jugs of it online with a credit card. Free delivery and no security check needed.

  “Here’s a brief synopsis of what we know about perc. There are four American manufacturers: Dow Chemical, in Midland, Michigan; Occidental Petroleum, in Los Angeles; PPG Industries in Pittsburgh; and Vulcan Materials Company in Birmingham. The stuff is heavily regulated. The Occupational Safety and Health Administration issues permissible exposure limits for employees working with perc. The EPA enforces a variety of regulations and guidelines for perc discharges, including air quality standards, drinking water standards, pollutant discharge permits, and emergency reporting.”

  “I know we’ve got a lot of red tape. But I don’t want to become an expert on PCE. Just tell me what I need to know.” The president was fidgeting with his pen, growing restless from listening to technical information he would not retain.

  Cassie accelerated her delivery. “Under the Emergency Planning and Community Right-to-Know Act of 1986, all releases of more than one hundred pounds of perchloroethylene into the air, water, or land must be reported annually and entered into the national Toxic Release Inventory (TRI) database. That gives us a comprehensive overview of where the perps might have got the stuff.”

  “How much perc are we talking about here, nationally?”

  “In 2019, roughly 200 million pounds of perchloroethylene waste were managed, mainly through recycling, treatment, and energy recovery.”

  “Wait a minute. Are you kidding me? Two hundred million pounds? Of a toxic substance!” The president’s eyebrows jumped halfway up his forehead.

  “Sir, we’ve reduced perc releases into the environment by more than eighty percent in less than two decades.”

  “But you’re still talking about hundreds of millions of pounds pumped into our air, water, and soil.”

  “Yes, sir. As you know, we’re working hard to reduce all forms of toxic pollution, including perc. A couple more facts and then I’m done.” Cassie tapped lightly on her keyboard and a chart popped onto the large wall-mounted screens. “This chart lists the ten states in which the largest amounts of perchloroethylene were released in 2006. You’ll note that Washington isn’t on the list.

  “The next chart shows the ten facilities releasing the largest amounts of perc last year. Again, nothing in Washington State.”

  “But the stuff is everywhere. How the hell are we going to get a handle on it?”

  “These large corporations all have high-tech pollution monitoring systems and sophisticated security. We’re contacting all of the companies that report to the Toxics Release Inventory to determine if any recent thefts have been reported. Unfortunately, that’s the easy part. Perc is also used by thousands of smaller businesses and institutions that are not legally required to report. Dry cleaners, gas stations, mechanic’s garages, and the like. In Washington State alone we estimate there are at least 5,000 of these small businesses using perc, in addition to government facilities such as schools and prisons.”

  There was a stunned silence around the room. Hundreds of millions of pounds of this highly toxic chemical were being used annually in America by tens of thousands of businesses, large and small. The odds of tracking down a few missing pounds were astronomical.

  “All right.” Tierney had returned, taking charge and speaking at his usual lightning pace. “We need to contact police throughout Washington State and see if there’ve been any thefts reported by the kinds of small businesses that use perc. Now can we wrap that discussion? I have new information about the source of the emails.”

  Chapter 18

  Tierney managed to look smug without smiling. “I just spoke to the director of the Forensic Computer Lab. Tracing emails to specific computers isn’t exactly rocket science anymore. As you all know, every computer, tablet, or smartphone that’s connected to the internet requires a unique IP address. Although not foolproof, in that they can be faked, IP addresses usually point us in the right direction. We’ve got software programs that make tracing emails a piece of cake. They can analyze an email to determine the sender’s IP address, penetrating most efforts at misdirection and working equally well with seemingly anonymous emails sent through free service providers. Plus, they can tell us which country and which city the email originated from, the registered owner of the domain, and contact information for the company providing internet access through that domain.”

  He paused for effect. “The three emails were sent from one computer at the City of London library. London, England, that is.”

  “Are you sure?” The president leaned forward.

  “Reasonably sure.”

  “I knew it.” Stryder slapped his palms on the table. “ISIS has several active cells based in London.” He had a facial tic, Cassie noticed, a fluttering of his left eyelid that acted up when he was excited.

  The president nodded slightly and shifted in his chair. “Orrin?”

  “I agree with Billy Joe. The London angle rules out the domestic explanations that Ms. Harden-Hernandez was speculating about.”

  “All right. Let’s get some of our agents to this library in London, on the double,” the president ordered. “Better yet, get the Brits to close it down, right now.”

  Matthews glanced at his watch. “Actually, sir, it’s probably closed already. London is five hours ahead of us.”

  “Let’s make sure it stays closed.”

  “Yes, sir,” Stryder jumped in enthusiastically. “We’ll get right on it. The library will get immediate crime scene treatment. We’ll seize the computer that was used, and the seats beside it, and dust them for prints. The hard drive will go to the nearest forensic computer lab to see what they can extract—other messages the perp sent, websites they visited, even books they looked up.”

  “Do they have user identification systems on the computers?” Matthews asked. “Do they have videotape surveillance at the library? We know when the email was sent. You’ll want to interview the librarians who were on duty, see if they can remember anybody or anything unusual.”

  “This opens up another line of inquiry,” Tierney added. “I’ll get copies of all of the passenger manifests for flights between Seattle and London for the days and weeks prior to the attack. Run background checks on any passengers with Arabic names. Run all of the names through the Terrorist Screening Center, the National Crime Information Center, the Violent Criminal Apprehension Program, and the White House correspondence database. Maybe make a quick connection.” Like sharks sensing blood, they fed off each other’s excitement.

  Attorney General Leon Bynum intervened. “Normally we’d need judicial authorization to intercept oral and electronic communications among potential suspects and suspect organizations. But in these circumstances . . .” Bynum was a ruthless lawyer who felt no trepidation about exploiting the legal system’s inherent
ambiguities to further the administration’s political agenda.

  “We don’t need a judge to give us the green light. Just do it. This is a national emergency.” Stryder also never let the rules get in the way of the investigation.

  The president interrupted. “Somebody mentioned closed-circuit televisions and that reminded me of something else. Do we have any satellite coverage of the Seattle watershed?”

  Stryder frowned. “Yes, sir, but the resolution isn’t sufficiently fine to pick out an individual.”

  “What about a vehicle?”

  “Unlikely.”

  “Double check. Otherwise why are we spending billions every year on a fancy satellite network? It sure isn’t predicting the weather.”

  Now Stryder winced. “Yes, sir.”

  “Does the aerial reconnaissance of the watershed collect video?”

  Stryder was shrinking in his seat as the president peppered him with questions. “No, sir. The planes are manually operated and not equipped with cameras.”

  “Talk to the pilots, then. See if they remember anything out of the ordinary in the days and weeks leading up to the attack. If not, we should fire them and replace them with drones.”

  “What about the demand for $100 billion to address poverty?” Cassie asked.

  Tierney spat out a response. “It’s outrageous. Sounds to me like the terrorists hired a PR firm to give their image a makeover.”

  Stryder jumped on the bandwagon. “Ludicrous. As if we’re just going to fork over one hundred billion dollars!”

  Cassie was the lone voice of dissent. “That’s substantially less than one-fifth of last year’s defense budget.”

  All the attention turned to Cassie. Like wolves attacking a crippled deer, they pounced on Cassie, talking over each other in hostile, offended outrage. “The citizens of America are being held hostage by despicable scum. Are you suggesting that the greatest country in the world bend over and pay the ransom?”