Odessa Strikes

by Bobby Akart

  “Where to?” asked Ghost.

  “I’m thinkin’ Patrick Air Force Base. I met the commander down there years ago. We’ve got a pretty good relationship. I think he’ll give an assist.”

  Ghost sighed and looked toward the ceiling for guidance. “Let’s go with your gut. I’ll make the arrangements.”

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Patrick Air Force Base

  Brevard County, Florida

  By the time the jet carrying the Gray Fox team landed at Patrick Air Force Base located halfway between Cocoa Beach and Melbourne, Florida, the analysts at the Den had performed some incredible cyber-detective work under enormous time constraints. The pilot of the aircraft had barely taxied to a stop when two base security vehicles raced to its side. As the door was opened and the stairs lowered, Gunner immediately recognized a familiar face waiting on the tarmac.

  Colonel John Dobbins had been the longtime commander of the 920th Rescue Wing located at the base. As the hugely successful Space Force spread its wings, so to speak, throughout the Air Force, personnel were shuffled, creating an opening for a new base commander at Patrick. Colonel Dobbins got the nod.

  He and Gunner first met when Heather was going through her training for space flight. The two men hit it off instantly. When one of Gunner’s test flights went awry years ago, it was the 920th who assisted in the search for the former Air Force pilot who’d ejected from the disintegrating jet.

  Later, prior to Gunner’s trip into space, he spent a day with Colonel Dobbins at Patrick for orientation on safety protocols in the event his spacecraft malfunctioned upon reentry. As it turned out, malfunction was hardly the term Gunner would’ve used.

  Gunner bounded down the final few steps and heartily shook Colonel Dobbins’s hand. “Congrats on the promotion. Well earned, John.”

  The two men shook hands and exchanged a bro-hug. “When I got the call from our mutual friend that you needed a staging area, my first thought was great, Gunner’s off to lasso another asteroid. I just got the intelligence file transmitted to my office. To be honest, I hope they’re wrong. This will be a helluva problem if they’re not.”

  “Colonel, I’d like you to meet Air Force Major Cameron Mills and Lieutenant Barrett King, both retired, if you know what I mean.”

  Colonel Dobbins chuckled and smiled. “It’s a pleasure. Thank you both for keeping my friend in one piece.”

  “There’s no more difficult job on the planet, sir,” said Cam with a wink to Gunner.

  Bear shook hands with the base commander and then pointed past his shoulder to a solitary helicopter sitting on the tarmac near the control tower. “You’ve scored one of the rare Grey Wolf choppers.”

  Colonel Dobbins took a deep breath and then made eye contact with each of the operatives. “Yeah, in fact, it was brought out here for a reason. You might need it.”

  “Sweet,” said Bear. “I’ve heard all about that sucker.”

  Colonel Dobbins gestured for them to follow him to the administrative building where his office was located. “Let’s hold off on discussing your mission until we’re inside with the file. In the meantime, let me brief you on the Boeing MH-139. The Grey Wolf, as we call it. The military began to phase out the dated Sikorsky HH-60Gs over time.”

  “We’ve flown the Pave Hawk many times, haven’t we, guys?” asked Bear, who was most excited to learn the features of the new Grey Wolf.

  The colonel continued. “You’re going to enjoy a substantial increase in speed, range, and maneuverability. It also has a survivability factor that’s unsurpassed. With the increased ability for domestic terrorists to obtain RPGs, the Pentagon needed a chopper that could withstand a direct hit. The Grey Wolf can survive one.”

  Bear pointed towards the helicopter as they passed it. “The five-blade rotors reduce its noise levels.”

  “Good observation,” said the colonel. “One of the advantages to the Grey Wolf is now a pilot can practically sneak up on a target rather than telegraphing its approach from a distance. Everything about it is state of the art, yet its control panel is remarkably similar to other choppers our pilots have flown. That’s one of the reasons that I plan on loaning it to you.”

  Bear smiled and gave the colonel a thumbs-up. “We’ll bring it back in one piece. I promise.”

  He stopped and turned to the operatives. “Colonel Bradford at Eglin told me you’d say that.”

  Gunner gulped. “Sir, any accidents are my responsibility.”

  “Yes, Gunner, they are. And Barrett’s, too. Maybe yours if I get mad enough.” He pointed at Cam and smiled.

  “We promise to do our best, sir,” said Bear half-pleadingly.

  “I know, Lieutenant. Now, let’s get inside so you can unpack this intel. It should be supplemented with more specifics by now.”

  They hustled into his office, and he instructed his aides to give them privacy. Jackal had sent additional information to the team, and the picture she painted was dire.

  Cam summarized the Den’s findings as Gunner and Bear studied a series of security videos on a second computer screen.

  “The cargo container that held the medical supplies, as it was listed on the ship’s manifest, was transferred at the dock to a truck, where it in turn was transported to a chlorine chemical plant in South Kearny, an industrialized area located on a peninsula between the Hackensack and Passaic Rivers.

  “The security videos you are watching came from the Alden Leeds plant as well as adjoining industrial facilities on the highway leading into Kearny Point. Jackal and her team monitored every chlorine vessel that left the Alden Leeds plant. Most left in their delivery containers and were dispatched around the northeast to legitimate end users.

  “Then there’s this. The company made several trips the night before last to the CSX train yard in South Kearny near the Meadowlands. These railcars full of chlorine were bound for South Florida. Look. Here’s the CSX railroad map for the I-95 corridor. It follows the Atlantic Seaboard, runs through the center of Florida, and cuts back to the east coast after it passes Orlando.”

  “Where’s the train now?” asked Gunner.

  Cam navigated to the most recent update from the Den. She clicked a link that provided access to the CSX tracking system. They saw the blinking dot moving systematically past Lake Okeechobee until it turned due south toward West Palm Beach.

  Gunner’s phone rang, startling the trio. He glanced at the display and mouthed the word Ghost. He connected the call.

  “I’ve got you on speaker. We’re reviewing the intel.”

  “You’ve gotta move. Now! CSX reports that their onboard engineers are not responding to their calls. They’re now considering the train a runaway.”

  “Can’t they stop it remotely?” asked Cam.

  Ghost paused ever so slightly. When he responded, his voice was eerily dire. “Their systems have been hacked.”

  Gunner grabbed the cell phone and led the way as the Gray Fox team raced out of the administration building and into the bright Florida sun. Colonel Dobbins was speaking with two of his subordinates when he snapped his head around to see them running across the tarmac.

  “What?” he asked simply.

  “We’ve got our confirmation,” replied Gunner. “Are the weapons hot?”

  “Yes.”

  The three ran past the surprised colonel toward the helicopter. Minutes later, Bear had them airborne and racing to intercept the train.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  West Palm Beach, Florida

  There were eighty-six chemical plants across the U.S. that used chlorine gas to produce bleach and also repackaged the bulk chlorine for resale in smaller containers. Most of that moved around the country by rail. Nearly sixty-four million Americans, one in five people, live in close proximity to these railcars crisscrossing the country, making them vulnerable to accidents or terrorism. Acute exposure to chlorine gas can be deadly.

  Odessa took it one step further. They dispatched a freight train pullin
g six railcars ostensibly filled with chlorine to treat municipal sewage and drinking water. The facilities in South Florida servicing the highly populated counties of Dade, Broward, and Palm Beach were the destinations listed on the train’s manifest. Only chlorine wasn’t on the train. Sarin was.

  “I’ve got eyes on the train,” said Bear as he leaned into the controls. He lowered the chopper until it was a hundred feet over the last set of railcars.

  “I count six chlorine railcars,” said Cam. “They’re marked PROCOR, confirming Jackal’s research.”

  “Get out in front of it, Bear, and let’s see if anybody’s drivin’ this thing,” Gunner calmly ordered.

  Bear sped ahead and then expertly spun the chopper around so it was facing the train’s blue-and-yellow locomotive head-on. The train continued to speed toward them without slowing. As it passed underneath the helicopter, they were able to make out three men dressed in black clothing looking up through the rectangular windows. When they saw the Grey Wolf, they hustled toward the rear of the locomotive, out of sight.

  Gunner called Ghost. “We’re tracking the train, and they’ve seen us by their reaction. I don’t believe the engineers are in control at this point. Do you want us to take them out?”

  “You can’t without being able to gain control of the train. CSX has lost all remote capabilities, and the hack destroyed their network. They’ll never get it under control in time.”

  Gunner paused and looked to Cam. “Have you looked around back there? Is this thing equipped with rescue gear?”

  “Yeah, typical stuff. Rope ladders. Long lines. Vests and chairs.”

  Gunner looked to Bear. “Can you steady your speed to lower me onto the train?”

  “No problem. They don’t have any evasive moves in their arsenal.”

  Gunner turned his attention back to Ghost. “I’m gonna drop onto the train. Get somebody from CSX to text me instructions for manually stopping the locomotive. Also, just in case, I need to know how to uncouple it while moving, if that’s possible or even advisable.”

  “Roger,” said Ghost. He was about to disconnect the call when Jackal hustled into his office.

  “Gunner? Wait.”

  Cam readied the rescue line that would drop Gunner to the top of the railcars while Ghost spoke to Jackal. He finally came back to the line.

  “Complications. Two, actually. CSX has been monitoring their security cameras along the railroad from West Palm Beach to Homestead. There was suspicious activity picked up at one camera in Fort Lauderdale.”

  “Regarding the tracks?” asked Gunner.

  “Yes. They believe two men installed shunts near their Yamato milepost, just north of where Yamato Road intersects with the railway.”

  Bear input the information into the onboard GPS of the helicopter. “What do you mean by shunts?”

  “I’m ready, Gunner!” shouted Cam.

  “Not good,” replied Gunner. “Keep her steady.”

  Shunt devices used a combination of wires and magnets to force malfunctions in basic railroad functions. They would be placed across railroad tracks in order to disrupt low-level electric currents on the railroad tracks, which in turn disables safety features such as applying Positive Train Control, an emergency brake and stop procedure. Based upon their placement, however, they can be used to intentionally caused derailments.

  Once the locomotive crossed the shunt, it would cause the PTC to engage the emergency braking system, resulting in a catastrophic failure of the draw bar—the mechanism that couples train cars together. The decoupling created a division of the cars from the locomotives and would likely result in a toppling-type derailment of the hazardous-material cars.

  Bear hovered over the single passenger car just behind the third locomotive in line as Gunner opened the door. He used the step loop attached to the carabiner at the end of the line. Cam, using the winch, slowly dropped him downward forty feet until he had a foot firmly placed on the top of the third locomotive. Gunner then stepped off and released the line.

  She reversed the winch and hollered to Bear, “He’s clear! Pull up to take some of the turbulence off him.” While she helped the line back into the chopper, her phone rang. It was Ghost.

  “He’s on the train,” she said immediately.

  “Good. We have another problem.”

  Cam slammed the door shut, immediately reducing the noise level so she could hear. “What is it?”

  “Jackal has identified two more tanker trucks headed your way. They left the same chlorine plant in New Jersey.”

  “Do you have a location?” she asked as she joined Bear in the cockpit.

  “Jackal has accessed the Florida Department of Transportation toll-road cams and highway patrol surveillance video. They were last picked up on the turnpike near Palm Beach Gardens. One exited there and turned west.”

  “What’s out there?”

  “The Grassy Waters Preserve, a part of the Everglades that supplies fresh water to West Palm Beach.”

  Cam slapped Bear on the arm and pointed backwards with her thumb. She mouthed the words go back.

  “What about Gunner?”

  “We can’t help him,” she replied, pointing at the GPS. “Find Grassy Waters Preserve.”

  She turned her attention to Ghost and asked, “What about the other one?”

  “It turned off earlier toward Lake Okeechobee. Both of these are the fresh water sources for communities on both coasts. We think they’re carrying liquid sarin in the chlorine tanks.”

  Bear gave the chopper full throttle as he cruised over the rooftops west of Interstate 95. “I see the preserve up ahead.”

  “What are our rules of engagement, sir?” asked Cam.

  “We believe the trucks have been hijacked and have no authorized destination. At this point, shoot to kill, Cam.”

  She glanced at Bear, who nodded. He navigated along Florida’s Turnpike until he located the exit off the toll road at Palm Beach Gardens.

  Cam received a text message. It contained an image showing the West Palm Beach water supply.

  She studied the GPS on the chopper’s control panel. “There. Follow Northlake Boulevard to the west. It runs parallel to the M-Canal identified on this map. There’s a control structure just to the southwest. They’ll turn left in about—”

  “Got it!” exclaimed Bear.

  “We’ve got houses everywhere!” Cam complained.

  “Then don’t miss. Weapons hot, Camster.”

  Bear was feeling confident. He buzzed past the tanker truck and then abruptly did a one-hundred-eighty-degree turn, enjoying the Grey Wolf’s superior handling. He was now facing the oncoming truck. Inside the cab, two men pressed their faces against the windshield after the helicopter suddenly appeared in front of them, hovering above the road.

  He turned the chopper broadside to the approaching truck so his door gunner, Cam, could take a clean shot. She slid open the window, another feature of the Grey Wolf, and unleashed a quick barrage from one of the two M240 machine guns mounted between the cockpit and the main door. Bullets tore up the asphalt in front of the tanker truck, forcing the driver to slow down the rig. He had almost come to a stop when Cam opened fire again. They didn’t have time to contend with the two terrorists, who were killed instantly.

  The truck had just slowed to a stop in the middle of the road when Bear pointed through the front window. “Here comes the clean-up crew.”

  Two Florida Highway Patrol cars led a train of hazmat vehicles and Palm Beach sheriff’s department patrol cars down Northlake Boulevard. Bear didn’t wait to see how they handled the bloody mess Cam left them. He whipped the chopper around and headed northwest across the everglades toward Port Mayaca, the approximate location where the other tanker truck would approach Lake Okeechobee.

  Jackal called this time. “We’ve got a report of suspicious activity at the Port Mayaca locks. Two boaters reported a tanker truck slowly approaching the small dam on the service road. They’re locals and
said there would be no reason for the chlorine truck to be out there.”

  Bear glanced at the GPS and mumbled, “Two minutes.”

  He swept low along the everglades so Cam could be ready to take the shot as soon as the opportunity presented itself. They were blinded for a second as the sun reflected off the tanker, confirming its location.

  “I see them!” Cam exclaimed. “They’re on the road, dragging hoses toward the water’s edge.”

  “On it! Showtime!”

  Bear buzzed past them, grabbing their attention long enough to freeze them in place. He whipped the chopper back and once again aligned it so Cam could take the shot. She unleashed the M240, sending a hundred 7.62-millimeter rounds ripping up turf and concrete until they found their mark, tearing holes in the two men, who never had a chance.

  “Done!” she shouted as she spun around and gave Bear a high five. “Let’s go get our boy!”

  Chapter Forty-Four

  CSX Railroad

  Broward County, Florida

  Gunner had never train-surfed before. He was agile and certainly capable of keeping his balance on water skis and boogie boards. When he was growing up, he’d heard about thrill seekers in Europe who got a cheap and exciting adrenaline rush by riding atop a speeding train. He also recalled that eighty teens died in Germany in 2008, and just three years later, a hundred lost their lives train-surfing in Russia.

  The three locomotives made his task much easier. Also, the relatively flat top compared to the string of tanker cars that followed the passenger railcar was a plus. This enabled him to move quickly to the front of the train.