Disruption: A River Of Secrets And Betrayal

by J. B. Jamison

  "Boat?"

  "I told you it wasn't a normal bridge alarm."

  "Yeah, right."

  She stuffed the phone in her pocket as she walked to her car.

  Chapter 15

  Driving across town, Emily had the feeling that this might be one of those days that explained why she went into this line of work in the first place. There were a lot of bad things being carried on the roads, right next to parents taking their kids to ball practice and ballet rehearsal, but fortunately, most people just didn’t know about them. If they did, they would probably never leave their driveway. Some of the things sounded a lot worse than they were. Uranium was one of the first things people thought of when you mentioned radiation, and while it was certainly something to be careful with, you could sometimes buy it on eBay. But Cobalt-60 was a different thing altogether. For many uses, it was packaged into long rods that were inserted into the machines that use the radiation to kill germs and sterilize things. There were thousands of those rods being used in more than forty sterilization centers around the U.S. and over one hundred twenty around the world. When used correctly, it’s not a high risk. But if you weren't very, very careful, someone getting too close to an unshielded Cobalt-60 rod for less than a minute would be dead within a week. And it was not a friendly week.

  As she pulled south off of I-10 onto 641, she was pleased with how well she could find her way around. When the opening had come up in New Orleans, it was too good to pass up. Since she was a kid, she had been fascinated by the intrigue and mystery of the FBI. She sometimes wished she could go back and explain to young Emily that the intrigue and mystery were far more rare than the paperwork and boredom, but overall, she was happy with the path she chose. And growing up in a family living and working on the river, she knew that would always be in her blood, so when the New Orleans position appeared, it was a no-brainer. Her father had been a Captain on boats on the upper rivers for over forty years before he retired, and all of her uncles and cousins had taken the same path. So wherever and whatever she did, she knew it would always involve some kind of river.

  Her mind followed that thread to create images of her dad now, sitting in a cognitive care unit she found for him in the city. Whatever he used to be, he was now a changing mix of things; sometimes a boat captain, sometimes a retired boat captain, and sometimes an angry old man sitting on the side of his bed staring at his shoes. He had always been difficult. In fact, Emily was probably the only person he ever spent time with without feeling the need to be The Captain.

  She refocused her thinking as she approached the blockade, and after being waved through, found the gravel road leading up the side of the levee. A woman in an NRC Response Team jacket stepped toward her.

  "I'm Doctor Karla Renshaw with the NRC. Thanks for coming."

  "Just call me Emily. So it sounds like you have something interesting here?"

  The woman got into the passenger seat.

  "It’s interesting, yeah. And it must hot if the sensor caught it in the water. Just follow this road to the other side of the levee. They're waiting for us."

  "I was just told there was something under the bridge. How’d you find it?"

  "One of our harbor boats was heading downstream after having some repairs done this morning. One of the mobile sensors had been acting up, so they dropped it in the water to make sure it wasn't leaking, and the thing went off."

  "You're kidding me. They weren't actually looking for anything then?"

  "Nope, what are the odds, right? They were headed to do routine scanning of cargo that came in last night below town."

  "So just what is this thing they found?"

  "Don't know yet. We've called for the ID and Secure team to take a look. They'll check it out and do what they need to do to make it secure."

  The dirt path led down the river side of the levee and disappeared into a tangle of weeds and driftwood. Emily parked the car and followed the doctor through the mud. The small NRC harbor boat was tied up at the muddy riverbank, with a half-dozen people in NRC jackets standing around.

  "Skipper, the FBI is here."

  He had a blue life jacket over his windbreaker and a very serious look on his face. Emily stepped forward extending a hand.

  "Agent Emily Graham. It sounds like you have an interesting one here."

  "Pete Goodwin. Yeah, has Agent Renshaw filled you in?"

  "She told me you found something and you've called in another team to check it out.”

  "Yeah, we really don't know what the hell is yet. We were just dragging the sensor about three feet underwater testing the seals when it pinged. There's over eight feet of water right there, so whatever is down there must be pretty nasty."

  "Big?"

  "Well, it’s not the size that concerns us. With radiation, two feet of water works the same as an inch of solid lead. Since we're assuming the thing is on the bottom, that means the sensor pinged it through the equivalent of at least three inches of lead. That shouldn't happen."

  "And you say its Cobalt-60?"

  "That's the thing. That is one of the traces from the sensor, and we got that when we went back and dropped it deeper just to double-check things. But the initial trigger came from Caesium-137, and then we ended up with three or four other things. Hell, it’s like a chemistry lab down there."

  "You sure that sensor is working correctly?"

  "Yeah, that was our first thought too. We've gone back with two others, and get the same results."

  "So, what's your gut at this point?"

  "Worse case? Somebody threw something off the bridge that was filled with some kind of a mix of dirty stuff. It was either not watertight, or it cracked when it hit the water, and now it’s leaking. Caesium-137 is water soluble. Sealed inside a container it would pretty much be invisible, but the fact that we found it means it must be loose in the water; it and whatever else is making its way down the river. We'll know for sure once the team gets here."

  Emily let herself enjoy the cool breeze sweeping across the water carrying the aromas of the river flowing by. She watched as the barges of a boat silently approached from under the bridge making its way upstream. As the barges drifted by, she thought again about her father.

  The contrast in her mind was hard for her to comprehend. He had spent forty-five years driving these monster machines up and down rivers, knowing every curve, every sandbar, and being in control of his crew in a way that gained him the respect of all that knew him. But today, he sat in his room. Instead of remembering river curves and sandbars, he struggled to remember what town he was in, and how to get back to his room from the nurse's station. This morning he hadn’t recognized her when she entered the room and seemed rather pleased to learn that he had a daughter living nearby; there in Chicago.

  The sound of the waves hitting the shore at her feet brought her back, and she began creating her mental list of things to do. Call Lennie and fill him in. Tell him to activate Elliot's team and get them down here asap. And yeah, call the Corps of Engineers and tell them to shut down this river.

  Chapter 16

  While Emily made her plans, the boat was slowing to make a turn just fifteen miles upriver, just south of Welcome, Louisiana; a village of nine hundred people. It was just across the river from a steel mill and grain elevator, so it was a good place to tie barges waiting to be loaded or unloaded. At any one time, there might be a hundred barges unattended along the shore.

  Charlie eased the rudder controls to allow the current to drift the boat down and toward the shore, and then come up under the small barge at the south end of the stack. It was nearing dusk, but things were busy here twenty-four hours a day so no one would notice as they collected their barge. And even if they were noticed, it looked like they were going about business as usual.

  Charlie had sometimes thought about the thousands of barges like these parked all along the river, but it had never really bothered him; not until today. He held the boat steady against the barge as he watched his
deckhand handle the line, throwing one end over the barge's timber head and connecting the other to the ratchet. The deckhand slid the long pipe over the handle of the ratchet to give him more leverage and tightened the line, pulling the barge fast against the tow. Charlie enjoyed watching a good deckhand at work. They knew what needed to be done, knew their tools and how to use them, and wasted no time getting things done. The good ones were always keeping eyes open for problems as well, knowing full well how quickly things could go bad out on the deck. Charlie's eyes lost focus as he remembered another deckhand just like this one, who was not quite as cautious, and overtightened a cable enough that it snapped, hurling hundreds of strands of hard, cold steel in two directions. One end gouged a hole in the barge, and the other went toward the ratchet and the deckhand. The poor rookie never even saw what hit him.

  His eyes came back into focus as he saw two other men step onto the barge, both moving far too fast and carelessly to be deckhands. He watched as the men walked to the far side of the barge and stopped at a wing tank cover, the round hatch that opened into the storage tank along the side of the barge. They stooped to open it, and pulled out a canvas bag and carried it back to the boat, where he lost sight of them.

  When his deckhand waved the all clear, Charlie eased the boat back into the channel and felt the twin screws bite into the water. He got a really miserable feeling in his stomach as the boat cleared the right turn of the curve and he saw the cars on highway 70 crossing the river on the Sunshine Bridge just ahead.

  As the boat passed one hundred and seventy feet beneath the bridge, Charlie walked onto the gangway outside the pilot house and lost his dinner into the churning water below.

  Chapter 17

  While there were always bad reasons for it happening, Emily felt excitement and satisfaction as she watched the FBI response teams go into action during a crisis like this. It was partly the extensive training, and partly the commitment and work ethic of every member of the team; but when the call came in, things happened.

  Elliot's Joint Terrorism Task Force team was in their trucks headed to the river. Emily had talked with the Coast Guard, the U.S. Department of Transportation, the local port authority, and was now on hold with the U.S. Corps of Engineers, going through the long list of steps to shut down one of the busiest commercial waterways in the country. Even with all of the simulations and well-practiced interagency communication plans, this was not something done easily.

  Emily felt her phone vibrate with a second call coming in. She glanced at the number.

  She closed her eyes, "Not now! Please, not now."

  She hit the ‘End call and answer’ button.

  "Hello Emily, this is Linda at Torchwood. I'm sorry to bother you, but we could use your help with your dad if you have a minute."

  "Ok, what's up this time?" Emily gritted her teeth.

  "He thinks he's on the boat, and he's mad at us because we won't let him go up to the pilothouse. He's been really confused today. When I came on duty, I found him sitting in my chair at the nurses’ station, in his underwear, talking on the phone. He was ordering a pizza, but had somehow called Chicago."

  "Aw jeez, I'm sorry Linda."

  "Oh no, it’s ok. That's really pretty calm compared some of the stuff around here. But after we got him back to his room he started getting upset again, saying it was time for his watch and he needed to go relieve the pilot. Could you talk with him a minute and see if you can calm him down? Sometimes your voice seems to calm him when he's like this."

  "Sure, I can try."

  "Ok. One sec."

  Emily took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, forcing her voice to sound calm and friendly.

  "Hey, these sons a bitches won't let me run my boat. You better tell them to follow orders, or I'm going to start taking names and kicking asses around here."

  It had worked before, so Emily decided it was worth trying again. That was one of the perks of his having no short term memory anymore.

  "Now dad, don't you remember? You told me you were breaking in that new pilot and wanted to see how he could handle the watch on his own this time. You warned him that you wouldn't be around to bail him out tonight. How's he been doing anyway?"

  "What? Oh, yeah, I guess I forgot about that. Shit, I guess after being stuck on these boats for this many years I'm lucky to remember my own ass."

  "You've had a lot on your mind lately, but it’s ok. By the way, do you have any of those ice cream bars left that I brought you the other day?"

  "No. I ran out of those yesterday; the guys here really like those. You need to bring some more."

  "I'll do that dad."

  "Well, thanks for calling; I've gotta go down to the dining room and see if they have any coffee left. It’s not worth a shit, but I've already called the home office and told them not to put this cook on one of my boats again. I told them to find me someone who can at least make a decent pot of coffee."

  "Ok dad, I'll bring more ice cream bars the next..."

  He hung up, and Emily was back at the river.

  She had learned a long time ago to never ask "What next?"

  Chapter 18

  He sat near the window, a cup of unsweetened black tea in front of him. The barista was still shaking her head from the dumb joke he told her, the kind she had come to expect during his daily visits. He looked to be in his 60's, though he could be older, he dressed and carried himself well.

  "Grandpa! How you doing?"

  The thirty-something walked to the table as the joke teller got up, receiving a hug.

  "Ronnie, it’s so good to see you. How's the kids?"

  "Doing well grandpa, busy as usual. I can't tell you how great it was to get your message; we've not had a good visit for ages."

  The older man watched the younger one intently as if they were the only two in the place.

  "Yes, it has been far too long Ronnie. I'm happy you could make the time to come."

  "Absolutely grandpa, no one could keep me away! You said you wanted to talk with me about something important; is everything ok? Are you alright?"

  The old man waved the comment away with his hand, "Oh, of course, I'm sorry if I worried you. I'm doing just fine."

  "Whew, that's a relief. When you said, it was important I..."

  "It is Ronnie, very important. In fact, I've been thinking about this conversation since those Saturdays we used to go fishing together. Do you remember those?"

  "Remember? Of course, I remember. You came to my rescue every Saturday, giving me an excuse to get out of the house for a while and away from the fighting."

  The old man smiled sadly and nodded his head as Ronnie continued.

  "I actually think I understood what you were doing even then, but didn't know how to say thank you for it. I really think you were the reason I got through all of that stuff with mom and dad. It was crazy."

  "Yes, your parents tried to do what they could, but they had their own demons to battle with. I couldn't do much, but..."

  "The fishing was enough...even with all of your stories."

  "Hah, yes. But let's not talk about the past. I want to talk with you about what lies ahead. Go order something to drink; here, my card will get you a free one; then we'll talk."

  The younger man walked to the counter as the old man watched, and listened. He thought about the boy he once was, the man he had become, and the man he might yet be.

  "Thanks, grandpa, I need some caffeine right now. Now, what's this talk about what lies ahead?"

  "Ronnie, do you think you are making a difference?"

  The young man's mind stopped abruptly.

  "Making a difference? What do you mean? With my job, or my family? I don't understand."

  "No, no, of course, you are making a difference with your family, and I'm sure with your job as well. But I'm just wondering if you have ever felt that you would like to do more, you know, be able to have more impact on things around you. Bigger things."

  He saw the confusion
and hesitation in his grandson's eyes.

  "Ronnie, I want you to think about something. If I told you that you have the opportunity to be more involved, and have more impact on what happens around you than you've ever imagined, would you be interested?"

  "I don't.."

  "Don't answer now. But what if it were possible that you could have an influence that reached into every corner of the world; would that interest you? And before you answer, you must know that you would also have the ability to see and understand things that will be terrifying, and sometimes horrible and unimaginably cruel. But you would know for a fact that you were doing things that mattered, things that protected your family and others, things that would influence history."

  "Grandpa, I don't understand. I don't know what to say. Tell me what you are talking about. Are you ok?"

  "I'm fine Ronnie, and I understand how confusing this all sounds. I'm asking that if I were to offer you something that could change your life, give you and your family all that you ever dreamed of having and more, and put you in a position to do things for others that few others could do, would you be interested? Don't answer now. Go home, or back to work, and think about that one question. If you decide that you do want to accept that opportunity, meet me back here tomorrow morning. If you aren't interested, I fully understand, and it will make no difference at all. Nothing will change between us, and we will never speak of it again."

  The young man sat, staring at his grandfather who now seemed to be someone far different from the man he thought he knew.

  "Ok, grandpa. I'll think about it. I'll talk with Carol tonight and..."

  "No! You must not speak with anyone about this; now or ever. And if you choose to accept it, you must always keep it to yourself."

  The young man leaned back in his chair.

  "Ronnie, I understand that I am asking you to keep a secret from the one's you love the most. And I understand just how difficult that will be for you to do. That is one of the reasons we are having this conversation; because that is the level of love and dedication required to follow the path I am talking about. But I assure you, accepting this role will never harm that love and dedication. In fact, it will only make it stronger and more meaningful. "