by Brandt Legg
Knowing this was going to be perhaps the most difficult strike on their list, Gunner had made secret pacts and enlisted the help of a number of questionable and surprising parties. Powder didn’t know what deals had been cut, or the extent of the maneuverings that had been done to facilitate his gaining access, but he knew what to do, and what would be waiting for him.
The timing on this job was absolutely critical because of the presence of such a significant and well-trained security force. The details were down to the minute. He waited until one twenty-nine AM before cutting through the first fence. Sixty yards later, he cut through another one just as the surveillance cameras swung away. Once on the other side, Powder timed his movement to six minutes, then sprinted along the fence line until he reached a white rectangular rock, the marker telling him to turn right and head straight to a high barrier wall along the closest perimeter.
He reached an impressive metal door which looked like it belonged on a bank vault. From memory, he keyed in a sixteen-digit code and was amazed, but not surprised, when it opened. A flood light drenched the area. He couldn’t avoid it. A surveillance camera would have zeroed in on the gate as soon as he touched the keypad if it hadn’t been “conveniently” caught in a software glitch.
Powder slipped into the shadows and made it to a small annex attached to the main building. He ran a magnetic keycard through the slot and the lock clicked open. The immaculately organized space appeared to be a maintenance shop. Tools filled one wall, stacks of supplies and equipment were neatly arranged around three aisles marked with yellow safety paint. In the corner were two of the three things he needed to complete the bombing—a ladder going up, and stairs going down. Both were made inaccessible by heavy, padlocked steel plates. Fortunately, he knew where the key was hidden, and quickly he unlocked both.
I need one more thing, Powder thought, pleased with how easily the job he’d been dreading was falling into place. He scanned the room. There it is.
Underneath one of the counters, two crates marked “SPRINKLERS, HOSE BIBS, & FITTINGS” actually contained enough Doomsday to completely flatten the entire facility. It was just sitting there, as planned, waiting for him. A turning point in the war.
Chase and Wen had emerged from the “lair of the mole people,” as Chase had taken to calling it, and found nothing but a handful of derelicts. No one knew it at the time, but Damon and Ryker were less than fifteen-hundred feet away, waiting at another opening. While Chase was checking around to see if his nemeses were nearby, Wen miraculously hailed a cab. It let them off at a donut joint a few blocks from Lipton Innovations. Hidden behind the trash area, amidst the smell of donuts and old coffee grounds, they powered-up the Antimatter Machine and connected with the Astronaut, who provided fairly accurate reconnaissance for their mission to take out or capture Powder.
Wen instinctively concentrated as she stared through the scope. “I’ve got a shot,” she whispered, even though there was no way Powder could hear her more than two hundred yards away.
“If we kill him, we’ll never know what he knows,” Chase said.
“There’s no way we can get there in time,” Wen said. “We don’t know his process. Taking this shot is the only way we know we can stop this.”
“I’m not sure it’s a bad thing if we fail to stop him.”
“What are you talking about? Wen asked, still tracking Powder’s every move through her infrared scope.
“You know what I mean.”
“You want to let him blow the building?”
“Lipton Innovations is the only company that makes the FESTER and the CSR.”
“I know.”
“If he blows the building, it could set horUS back a year, maybe two, possibly even longer.”
“But it’ll just be a setback.” She watched as Powder took a few steps. What’s he doing?
“Sure, but during that setback we can bring this thing into the light. Show people what’s going on.”
“If we let him go, if we can catch him after the explosion, if it really sets them back, if the public believes the information, if they do anything about it . . . that’s a lot of ifs.” She saw Powder glance into a device, maybe a phone.
“Why wouldn’t the public believe us? Why wouldn’t they do something about it?”
“Ask Edward Snowden.”
“This is different,” Chase said, yet he couldn’t help but recall when NSA whistleblower Edward Snowden, who went public about mass government surveillance on US citizens through emails and phone calls, famously said that his greatest fear was, “That nothing will change,” and indeed, the public seemed to shrug off the government’s intrusion into their privacy . . . and soon forgot.
“Not really different at all,” Wen said, studying Powder’s hands through the scope. “We’ve got to decide right now—do I shoot him or not?”
Chase stared off toward the Lipton Innovations building.
“I’m pulling the trigger.”
“No, let him go!”
Wen released her finger and watched as the Fire Bomber went around the edge of the building and disappeared into the darkness.
“What now?” Wen asked.
“We still need to catch him. Let’s go.”
“Hold on,” Wen said, keying in a message to the Astronaut. “Maybe he can hack into horUS to help us track the Fire Bomber.”
“I don’t want to lose this guy,” Chase said as they stood to exit their hiding place. “We need to move!”
BOOM, BOOM, BOOM-BOOM. Lipton Innovations blew in a massive series of explosions. Chase and Wen were both knocked to the ground.
Seventy-Two
Tess didn’t allow herself to mourn Flint just yet. Once an agency crew arrived, she’d left immediately for Mission Control—her home more than anywhere now, since her house and property had become a battlefield. Tess knew she would never return to it. The place would be listed on the market as soon as agency people finished the clean-up, boxed everything, and sent it all to storage.
Tess stayed up all night on coffee and adrenaline. In the previous hours she’d discovered the identity of the source, and they were tracking the mastermind—the head of a large militia in Michigan, although he was now somewhere in West Virginia. For the first time, the Fire Bomber had also struck three targets in the same night. Raleigh, North Carolina, Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, and Las Vegas, Nevada.
“Travis is on his way in,” an assistant told her at around four forty-five AM east coast time.
“Good, I need his help handling the source,” Tess answered.
“Las Vegas,” a technician said from across the room. “Fire Bomber.”
“Lipton Innovations,” Tess said, knowing it had to be the target—the key contractor for horUS.
“I don’t know. Pulling it up now.”
The big screen switched from a dynamic map of the United States to a massive fire in what had been a major manufacturing and corporate facility.
“Confirmed,” the tech said. “Lipton Innovations.”
“Total destruction,” she said. “Any word from our team on the ground?” Three days earlier, she had ordered an IT-Squad to be stationed there.
“I’ll check.”
“San Francisco,” another tech said as a different screen lit up with the Balance Engineering building imploding.
“Seattle,” someone shouted before Tess could respond to Balance Engineering. “Looks like Boeing.” Another screen confirmed the site.
“Six in one night,” Tess said, wondering how the Fire Bombers could be doing it.
“The president,” a tech announced.
“I’ll take it in Secure,” Tess said, but even before she could make it there, four more strikes were announced—Los Angeles, Bellevue, Washington, and Denver. While on the phone with the president, two additional bombings occurred in the San Francisco Bay area.
“He knows we have them,” Tess said to the president, referring to the leader of the militia. “That’s why this is hap
pening. The Fire Bombers are unleashing everything they have left.”
“I don’t care about the reason,” the president said. “We haven’t had this kind of destruction since 9/11, and even then . . . we’re talking about dozens of buildings now that this group has destroyed with impunity. Thank God we haven’t had a comparable loss of life, but . . . ”
“I’m telling you, it ends today. The source will be in custody in the next thirty minutes. This Gunner character, who’s the Fire Bomber mastermind, will be dead or in custody possibly even sooner. And right now there’s a crew about to apprehend the Las Vegas Fire Bomber.”
“What about all the other explosions tonight and those fighter-bombers?”
“Working on it, but it appears to be some sort of automated attack. We have teams in many of the locations. This militia was ready for war.”
“What set them off?”
“It appears to have been horUS.”
“Should I be worried?”
She knew he meant about his exposure with horUS.
“I’m about to implement Rolling Wave,” Tess said, knowing the president would understand. “Rolling Wave” was the final back up plan, the “hell has frozen over” contingency plan. “We have no choice.”
“Then do it.”
The president ended the call. She knew he trusted her, partially because she was excellent at her job, and also because no alternatives existed. People were about to die, but the larger good would be served, and that had always been the president’s first priority. He’d told her once, “Tough decisions have to be made to assure the continuity of not only the government, but the country, and its place as the world’s premier power.”
She remained in Secure, alone, watching live feeds from Vegas, San Francisco, Seattle, Raleigh, and the rest. Nineteen separate tech companies had been hit. Her anger at the night’s events was tempered only by the satisfaction that she could finally see the end. There were still difficult issues to deal with, and if horUS—and, more importantly, the people who had created the program—were going to survive, the next few hours would be the most critical.
A minute later, the information she’d been waiting for came across her private screen. The two people who’d attacked her home had been identified and traced.
“Cane Westfield,” she said to herself, after reading the history of the men who had, for the past several years, not officially existed but, in fact, reported directly to Westfield. “I never particularly liked you, but I didn’t see that coming.” She keyed in several lines of text, sealing his fate. “But it’s almost convenient after tonight’s events.” She couldn’t bring herself to silently thank the man who’d tried to have her killed and was ultimately responsible for the death of her dear Flint, but his actions had made a certain part of her job simpler. “You will be dealt with in hell Westfield.”
Someone knocked on the door of Secure. Tess checked the monitors, relieved to see Travis. She buzzed to allow him access.
Westfield learned of the failed attempt on Tess and cursed, knowing she was one of only three people with the clearances to find out who the men were. He also knew that she was now safe in the fully protected and hardened CISS building in Vienna.
Perhaps only the Fire Bomber would be able to get her, he thought. The irony.
However, such an outcome would be impossible. He prepared for the worst. Tess would have a team sweep her home, pick apart the bodies of the two assassins he’d sent. Soon, if not already, she’d uncover their identities, the CIA would uncloak their erased existences, the connections to certain programs would be linked, and then traced back to Westfield himself. She couldn’t prove it, but she wouldn’t need to. Tess Federgreen was a fierce warrior, as powerful as himself, but younger, more cunning. There was nowhere to hide.
She will come for me.
Even so, he still sought to achieve the same goal as Tess—protect horUS. That meant Chase Malone had to die, and he believed there was a great chance that Tess would not do it. Ryker and Damon needed to succeed.
He pulled up the feeds from Vegas, checked all resources, and tracked the pair. “Ahh,” he said, watching back-feeds of Chase and Wen. “You had your sights on the Fire Bomber and then lowered your gun. You let him blow up Lipton Innovations. Chase Malone, you are part of this. You are the enemy. I sentence you to death.”
Ten minutes later, the coordinates of Chase’s exact location were in Ryker’s tablet, and a dozen more men were on their way to finish the mission and carry out the death sentence.
Seventy-Three
After the explosion at Lipton Innovations, Chase and Wen tried for almost an hour to find Powder, but finally, exhausted, not able to recall the last time they’d slept, they made their way back to the strip and got a room at the Mirage using one of Chase’s aliases. They had to sleep. Flint’s team, who they’d missed earlier at the Bellagio, had finally made contact. They would all leave Vegas together at five AM, the destination yet to be determined.
They turned off their phones and crashed. Two hours later, the wake-up call they’d left brought them back to the brutal reality. Once back on, Chase’s phone rang instantly.
He recognized the number and was hoping to get an update about his mother. “It’s Boone,” he told Wen, pressing accept.
“Chase, I’ve got some horrible news,” Boone said.
Chased gripped the phone, fearing his mother had died.
“The Balance Engineering headquarters building has been completely destroyed,” Boone said in a dire tone.
“What? How could that . . . What about Dez? Adya? What?”
“We don’t know to what extent, but there were definitely casualties. Dez called me when he couldn’t reach you. He’s okay. No word on Adya.”
“What happened?”
“The Fire Bomber.”
“Yeah, but . . . we just saw the Fire Bomber hit Las Vegas. We saw—”
Wen hit him on the leg, reminding him they didn’t witness anything. She pointed to the phone and then the sky, a signal that “they” could be listening.
“How’s Mom?”
“Improving. Asleep now.”
“Good. Does she know about Balance?”
“No.”
“Let’s not tell her. It’ll only upset her more.”
“I agree,” Boone said.
“Which happened first? Balance or Las Vegas?” Chase asked.
“Right after Dez called, I turned on the news. Both Lipton Innovations in Vegas and Balance were all over the coverage. They say it’s the first time the Fire Bomber has struck twice in the same night. I think I saw that Vegas happened first. You’re in Vegas? Are you okay?”
“How do we know it was the Fire Bomber that did Balance?” Chase suddenly asked Wen. “We’re not on the horUS list.”
“What are you talking about?” Boone said. “Chase, the building is gone. It was either a cruise missile attack, or the Fire Bomber. No one else can unleash that kind of destruction.”
“But why Balance? It’s not even on the—”
Wen hit Chase again and gave him a glaring stare.
“What list?” Boone asked.
“We’ve been developing a list of potential targets that fit a pattern,” Chase lied. “Balance has no connection to any of the others.” Chase looked at Wen, his eyes seeking her approval for the covering of his slip, then changed his expression to one of questioning.
She shrugged, obviously trying to figure out what the motive was to hit Balance and some of the other companies that had nothing to do with horUS—the “second track”, as the Astronaut called it.
“Wait,” Boone said. “Two more companies were hit by the Fire Bomber. Boeing in Seattle, and WatchIT in Raleigh, North Carolina.”
Wen turned on the television.
“Four in one night,” Chase said, shocked, and then thought of the more obvious question. “How did the Fire Bomber get into Balance? That building was an armed camp.”
After Chase ended the ca
ll with Boone, they linked up with the Astronaut via the Antimatter Machine. The news continued to pour in even as they spoke with him. More than a dozen Fire Bomber attacks had occurred within hours.
“You were right about Balance,” Chase said as the Astronaut came on screen.
“And about Google,” the Astronaut said.
“They hit Google, too?”
“Tried, but an engineer there figured it out.”
“What?”
“He discovered how the Fire Bomber could bring down a whole building with only a suitcase full of explosives.”
“Leave it to an engineer,” Chase said.
“That statement is truer than you can imagine,” the Astronaut said. “They have paired the most advanced military-grade pliable-demolition substance in the world—ARMA2020 Poly Explosive—with an artificial intelligence program.”
“Don’t tell me,” Chase said, dreading the possibility that the Fire Bomber had used Rapid-Artificial-Intelligence, what he and Dez had invented.
“What else could it be?” the Astronaut asked, rhetorically. “The Fire Bomber figured out a way to mix the poly explosive with RAI.”
“But how does that bring down a building?” Wen asked.
“They amplify it,” Chase said, thinking out loud. “I can’t believe I didn’t figure it out before. The Bomber uses RAI to tap into the building’s electrical system, or natural gas source . . . that’s it, right?”
“Yes. Glad to see you’re still as smart as they say you are,” the Astronaut said, no trace of humor in his voice. “The compounding effect expands the power and explosive force of Doomsday by a magnitude of thirty-one.”
“A super-weapon,” Wen said. “And whoever is doing it leap-frogged the capabilities of the world’s most powerful militaries.” She couldn’t help but think about WOLF. If the Cause had such a weapon . . .
“That obvious and unpleasant reality must be why Tess enlisted our help. They have no idea who could pull off something like this—first acquiring the highly-classified Doomsday and then developing a technology that turned the radically advanced explosive into something so destructive. It’s decades ahead of its time.”