by T C Miller
“Don’t think they explained...Came straight from the Director’s office...Who’s gonna question it?”
“Must be a reason.”
“Whatever...Anyway, back to Eichner and crewBeen looking for a link to the Wyoming thing and a hint to which way they might be headed.”
“Looks like east on I-80 or north on I-25 to Canada.”
“Doesn’t feel right...Why didn’t they take I-15 earlier?...Heck of a lot closer to the Pacific Coast.”
“Good point.”
“As they say, to catch a bad guy, you gotta think like one.”
“You’re the one who says that.”
“Well, it’s true...”
“Wasn’t arguing...I like the way you think...In fact, this assignment is one of the best things that ever happened to me.”
“You mean like the line in Casablanca?”
“Casablanca?”
“A movie. Rick, the character Humphrey Bogart plays, says to the French policeman, Louie, ‘I think this could be the start of a beautiful friendship’...or something like that.”
“Don’t think I ever saw it.”
“Never mind then, but I think you know what I mean.”
“I do...I do, indeed.”
***
CHAPTER 8
UNDISCLOSED LOCATION
SATELLITE PHONE
“Gunter, what can I do for you?” Marvin Hawkins propped his feet up on the finely polished surface of the Director’s desk, drew a puff from a cigar and asked the question in his best pseudo-jovial bureaucratic voice.
“For a start, don’t use my name on a call...You know that better than anyone.”
“Not overly concerned...Call is double-encrypted and skip-frequency modulated. We’re all in deep kimchi if they can trace this call.”
“Easy for you to say...you’re protected. I’m hanging out in the middle of nowhere without a net.”
“Right...So, what do you have?”
“Just went to a meeting in Switzerland and some interesting subjects came up...For instance, what is the BlackStar Ops Group and what do they do?”
Wondered that myself. “Sorry, old boy...afraid that’s one of those need-to-know things.”
“What the...Are you serious? I’m a double agent...What difference does it make?”
“Let’s just say you’re better off not knowing.”
“That makes no sense...How am I supposed to do my job if I’m not up to date?”
Good point. “I, uh...” He cleared his throat. “...need to consult with my boss to see if I can read you in...”
“Thought you were the boss.”
“We’ve all got a higher level to answer to...Even the President answers to his major donors...You know how it works.”
“Thought I did...Putting my neck on the line here...Things go south, I’ll need to disappear...forever.”
“Understood...What else do you have?”
“Another item concerned some nuclear material that was supposed to be moved out of the country and never made it...Know anything about that?”
“Remember me telling you about an incident on the West Coast regarding classified material? It was nuclear weapons and an ultra-secret device that’s highly classified.”
“All nuclear devices are classified...”
“Not like this one...Even I haven’t been read into it..”
“Whatever...The Consortium knows and they’re eager to get their hands on it...Think they’ll have it soon.”
“That isn’t good....”
“You’re telling me?”
“Quit worrying and do your job.”
“I will...But, don’t want to move too fast and compromise myself. In the meantime, I need some guidance...They expect me to go underground for a few months.”
“Disappear?”
“I assume that’s what they meant...Said I’d be totally out of touch.”
“Where?”
“Not a hint.”
“Like I said...Need to talk with my people and get back to you. I’ll get another phone to you so we can stay in touch.”
“Do that and put the same ad in the Washington Post on a Tuesday or Thursday...I’ll call when it’s safe.”
Gunter terminated the call.
LOVE’S TRAVEL STOP
CHEYENNE, WYOMING
The anonymous semi sat in a corner of the vast parking area with an escort SUV on either side to discourage other trucks from parking next to it. It was standard procedure in the DOE manual the driver carried. The driver was talking with the Transportation Control Center in Albuquerque, New Mexico, “...completed overnight rest stop and picked up the SST from FE Warren. Getting ready to top off the tanks and...Hmm, that’s weird.”
“What’s weird?” The dispatcher on the other end typed notes on her computer.
“Didn’t know we had another convoy in this neck of the woods.”
“What convoy?”
“How am I supposed to know?...You’re Dispatch...You tell me.”
“Must be seeing things...Closest load to you just left Fargo on an eastern run.”
“I’m telling you, I just saw one of ours pull out of a TA Truck Stop across the street and head south on I-25.”
“Can’t be...Hot board says you’re the only rig for two hundred miles.”
“Then who is it?”
“Who knows?...Maybe another agency. Wait a minute...we got a bulletin from the Wyoming Highway Patrol less than an hour ago and, at the same time, a BOLO from some government agency I never heard of, saying watch for anything out of the ordinary...Wonder if this qualifies?”
“Could be...At the very least, you might wanna let ‘em know so they can check it out. What’s the other agency?”
“Chief didn’t say...Just said let him know if anything weird comes up. Seems like a stretch, though...chances of it tying in...” Shift ends in ten minutes and Shelly has a game...
“Probably just a coincidence. Anyway, am I clear?”
“Affirmative, Unit 88-142, cleared to depart Cheyenne heading west.”
“Unit 88-142, roger that...Will call with afternoon sitrep.”
The dispatcher ended the call and looked at the clock—eight minutes left on her shift. Not gonna miss another game. She closed out her shift log.
FE WARREN AFB SOFTBALL COMPLEX
CHEYENNE, WYOMING
BJ’s pager beeped two hours later as she watched her seventeen-year old slide into home. “Way to go, Shelly!” she jumped to her feet and screamed so loudly the people around here were startled.
“Sorry,” she mumbled. “Number 12’s mine.” BJ sat back down as the pager buzzed again.
“Game’ll be over in ten minutes,” she said outloud. “I’ll call from the restaurant.”
“You talking to me?”
“No, sorry...Work paging me.”
“Some bosses feel like they own you twenty-four-seven.”
“Ain’t that the truth?” She sat back and waited for the next batter to step up to the plate.
They walked into the restaurant twenty minutes later. “Get a booth...” she said to Shelly. “...and order me a plain iced tea...Gotta make a call.
The hostess pointed to a wall phone.
Bob answered after two rings.
“Yeah, Boss...BJ, whatcha need?”
“About damned time you called in, Carver! Been pagin’ you for an hour.”
“Sorry...Was at Shelly’s game...Crowd noise and traffic...First phone I could get to.”
“Cut the excuses...You made a note in your log about an unidentified rig report in Cheyenne...Did you follow-through?”
“Uh...not exactly.”
“What does ‘not exactly’ mean?”
“Didn’t think more action was needed...”
“And why not? I briefed you about the BOLO.”
“Didn’t think it was connected...Besides, 88-142 didn’t make no big deal of it...Figured it was a fluke.”
“A fluke that a three-vehicle convoy
setup like one of ours is runnin’ up and down the road?”
“Well...does sound more like a thing, when you say it that way.”
“A sure-fire thing...I need to make an urgent call and want your butt right here in a chair when I do...Case there are questions.”
“Shelly and I are just getting ready to eat...”
“Make it to go and get in here.”
The line went dead and she motioned for Shelly to join her.
BSOG COMMAND CENTER
CHEYENNE MOUNTAIN, COLORADO
Bart summoned the other members of the team and they rolled their chairs into a semicircle.
“Thought I might better brief y’all on what’s happenin’ in that highway patrol incident. Investigators have confirmed COD was multiple gun shots...No likely suspects and nothing’s turned up regarding high-profile crimes in the area...Which begs the question...Why’d he die? And who killed him?”
Jake spoke up first, “Doesn’t seem like something Eichner would do...Wouldn’t want every Tom, Dick and Harry lawman in a three-state area looking for them...”
“He might feel like he had no choice if the trooper stopped him,” Nora interjected.
“True, but it’s pretty brazen...You’d think he’d try to hide the body and car to give them more time to get away.”
“In Wyoming?” Carl queried.
Jay raised his hand and quietly spoke, “What if he’s not worried about being caught?”
“Why in the world wouldn’t he be?” Joanna joined in.
“If they’re traveling in vehicles that are almost invisible.”
“Invisible?”
“I don’t mean actually invisible, but vehicles law enforcement wouldn’t look at twice...like a military convoy.”
“Or fake law enforcement vehicles.”
Nora motioned with both hands. “Wait a minute...Let’s back up a step and do the math. They have at least a dozen bad guys with personal weapons and gear, plus the nuclear weapons. Military convoy would only work if they had the right vehicles, uniforms and markings to match...Kind of a stretch, don’t you think?”
“Same with law enforcement,” Joanna added. “Take a lot of vehicles, or a bus...And they’d all have to look authentic. Aren’t that many law enforcement types in this part of the country...They’d stick out like a sore thumb.”
Jay spoke up again, “I’ve been thinking this over...Lots of trucks travel I-80...It’s a major east-west route...Which wouldn’t help the bad guys if they’re subject to weigh stations and vehicle inspections.”
“Which semis are.”
“Not always...Military convoys, for instance...”
“Which we’ve pretty much discounted, but along that train of thought...Who else would be exempt from inspections and weighing?”
“DOE couriers are exempt,” Mary answered.
“And they carry nuclear material,” added Nora.
The main phone line into the Command Center rang and Jake answered. He listened intently for a minute, covered the mouthpiece with his hand and motioned to Bart. “Speak of the devil...DOE’s Emergency Control Center, on Line 1.”
Bart took the handset. “Agent Winfield, how can I help you?”
“Maybe it’s th’ other way around,” answered a deep voice with a hint of a southern accent.
“I’ll bite...Who’s this and what do you have?”
“Sorry...Figured the guy who answered told you...Bob Englehart...Shift supervisor at the DOE Courier Dispatch Center in Albuquerque. Look, this may be nothing, but I got a BOLO says you’re looking for unusual vehicle activity...Which agency did you say you work for?”
“Didn’t...What do you have, Bob...Mind if I call you, Bob?”
“Long as I can call you, Bart.”
“Only fair.”
“Well, I’m a little reluctant to discuss this without knowin’ who I’m giving the info to...”
“Understand...Problem is, I don’t have time to go through the song and dance of havin’ my boss in DC call your boss in DC...Catch my drift? We’re in hot pursuit of some very dangerous hombres.”
“Say, where you from, anyway?”
“Tunica, Mississippi, why?”
“Pickin’ up some Miss’ippi...I’m from Perdido Key, Florida.”
“Fished there many a time...when the red tide wasn’t bloomin”’
“Somethin’, ain’t it? Anyway...got a report of three vehicles up in Cheyenne don’t seem quite right.”
“How so?”
“May be masqueradin’ as DOE couriers.”
“Semi and two escort vans?”
“Matter a fact...”
“Any idea where they’re headin’?”
“Not for sure...Let me put the dispatcher who handled the call on the line.”
Bart asked a few questions and ended with, “Thanks, darlin’...Sure do appreciate your help...Mind puttin’ Bob back on, please?”
“Bob, here...Hope that helps y’all.”
“Never can tell...‘preciate the call and whenever I’m anywhere near Albuquerque I’ll give you a yell...Maybe go drown a little bait together...or at least grab some lunch.”
“Sounds good, and next time I’m anywhere near...Where’d you say you are?”
“Didn’t...Central Colorado, east of the Rockies.”
“Give me a call, hear?”
“Okay...Take care.”
Bart hung up the phone and relayed the details. “Sounds like a solid lead...How do we run it down?”
Jake answered first, “Updated BOLO?”
“Too much time to get it to the locals...What with shift changes and everything.”
Mary added, “Seems to me the easiest way would be satellite surveillance, if we can get it.”
“Good point...I need to lean on DC.”
DIRECTOR’S OFFICE, NSA
WASHINGTON, DC
“Do I need to remind you who you’re talking to?” Marvin Hawkins said red-faced into the phone. “After all, Winfield, you work for me!”
Bart took a deep breath. “No, Acting Director Hawkins...Wondering why my request was denied...and it’s Colonel Winfield to you.”
“Denied? You sure?”
“As the day is long.”
“Need to put you on hold, while I check it out.”
In charge, and doesn’t know what’s going on?
“Justin, I need you in here.”
“I am a little busy right now, can it not wait?”
“No, it can’t! Get in here with the folder on the missing weapons.”
Justin entered the office less than a minute later, put the folder on Hawkins desk and started to leave without saying a word.
“Stay...and tell me why I turned down a request for satellite coverage?”
“Beg pardon, sir?”
“I don’t remember seeing a request for surveillance in Wyoming.”
“Indeed you did, sir...Your initials are at the bottom.”
“I didn’t sign that...What the hell’s going on?”
Justin sat down in one of the easy chairs facing the desk, crossed his knees and said in an impertinent tone, “I was compelled to make a decision on something that appeared to be unnecessary and a disruption of routine satellite flight patterns.”
“Since when do you make decisions on what is or isn’t necessary?”
“In your absence.” Justin sighed in a theatrical manner. “It is in the summary on the front page...”
“Too damned long to read.”
“I wrote them as succinctly as possible and in simple terms you could comprehend.”
“Simple terms...What makes you think you can talk to me that way? You’re a glorified hack...I’m the Director of...”
“Acting Director.”
“What the...” He shot to his feet. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
“The one who knows about your Georgetown mistress, among other things.”
Hawkins sat down heavily in the high-backed executive
chair. When he spoke again, it was in a more subdued voice, “What do you want?”
“Nothing...at this time. I simply want you to know I am looking out for your best interests.”
“By threatening me?”
“I was not threatening...Only letting you know that I have a broader view of this office.”
“And what does that mean?”
“That I am aware you are temporarily in the position and the real director will soon return. I know you would not want to make mistakes that are subject to review at a later time. My desire is for the conduct of this office to continue in an orderly manner...free from mistakes and neglect.”
“Mistakes and neglect? Listen here, I didn’t get into this position by opening a box of Cracker Jacks...I worked my ass off!”
“Political maneuvering is hard work, but it is not a substitute for extensive job knowledge...Something I possess that you do not.”
“I see...” Hawkins sat quietly in thought for a minute. “You do seem genuinely concerned...and I do have a lot on my plate...How do you think matters should proceed in the best interest of this office?”
“I see nothing wrong with the manner in which they are being conducted.”
“Okay, but I’d appreciate you letting me know when something important comes up...Was this satellite thing a priority?”
“Not in my estimation...The request came from a minor team chief and did not rate priority...It can wait five hours for the scheduled flyover.”
“It didn’t affect functional operational capabilities?”
“I would have brought it to your attention if there were risks to national security.”
“Yes, yes, of course you would have. Well, then, since we have a clear understanding, that’ll be all...Unless you have something else...”
“No.” Justin slammed the door behind him.
Hawkins picked up the phone and punched a button. “Sorry for the delay Colonel Winfield...Needed to check with my staff. Seems there were some operational considerations involved in the decision...You’ll have coverage in, let’s see now, three hours.”
“And would’ve had it an hour ago if the satellites had been redirected. We’re tracking down criminals who have nuclear weapons in their possession...You don’t think that’s critical enough?”
Nuclear weapons? Hawkins paused before speaking, “I have to consider the expense and trouble involved...Will a few hours make that big a difference?”