“I must stay, Matt Decker. I am only seconds away from the bottom of the file!”
“You’ll never break it if you’re dead, Abdul. Have you made offsite backups of everything?”
“Yes. I sent everything to the CEPOCS cloud.”
“Great, then get out of there. We’re out of time!”
He typed a blur of keystrokes as he was getting up and said, “I’m in!”
“Let’s go, Abdul!”
He headed for the door but didn’t make it before the timer in my hand squealed. A fraction of a second later, a massive concussion shook the ground so hard it knocked both of us down. I looked over at Tark. He was still on his feet but swaying as the ground shook. I felt the ground under our feet drop several inches. Pavement cracked and the metal siding on the building creaked and groaned. Windows shattered as the whole building warped, showering us with shards of safety glass.
The rumbling continued, the noise deafening. Building F, the epicenter of our man-made earthquake, was collapsing. Glass broke and metal shrieked as the huge structure came down. Something caught fire and smoke started pouring out of the wreckage before it stopped falling. The vibration of the ground finally stopped.
“Tark, I guess we should’ve thought of this before, but do we have any kind of working fire control?”
“Yeah, plenty of hydrants and hoses.”
“Good deal. Are you fit to man a hose?”
“I’m fine, Matthew.”
I yanked a walkie-talkie out of my back pocket and keyed it up. “Sheriff, we need help in here, fast!”
“On my way,” he said.
“Let’s grab some hoses and try to set up a perimeter around F,” I said. “We don’t want to put the water right on the wreckage unless we have to. We don’t know what kind of radioactive fallout is in there and the last thing we want to do is start spreading it around with water.”
“Understood,” Tark said. The big man was in a dead run. I saw a fire hydrant ahead, around fifty yards from the heap of mangled metal that used to be Building F and sprinted toward it. I passed him and seconds later Abdul sped by me. He was fast. Really fast. He beat me to the hydrant and broke the glass out of the housing next to it that contained the four-inch diameter hose and hydrant valve wrench. He threw the wrench on the ground, grabbed the nozzle, and started unspooling the hose.
“Just a perimeter around it, Abdul. We just want to keep it from spreading to the other buildings,” I said as I slipped the wrench onto the valve and cranked it open.
“Got it, I’ll work on wetting down the other buildings,” he said. Something about the way he said it spooked me and I froze, trying to decipher the goose bumps that rippled down the back of my neck there in the searing heat of the flames now engulfing Building F. Then it clicked. For five days I had listened to his thickly flavored, broken English that sounded like something out of a comedy flick. Now he had just rattled off a perfect sentence without the slightest trace of an accent.
59
6:51 AM SUNDAY EASTERN EUROPE SUMMER TIME
(LOCAL)
10:51 PM SATURDAY CENTRAL DAYLIGHT TIME
ANCIENT CITY OF PETRA, JORDAN
Hart watched as the sun climbed high enough in the eastern sky to start erasing the shadows in the old city. Other than still being featured in a movie from time to time or explored on occasion by adventurous tourists, mysterious Petra lay untouched and unseen. Sitting at the crossroads of ancient trade routes, the buildings of Petra had been carved right out of the pink sandstone walls of the canyon. This unique architecture, along with a narrow alley-like entrance, made for a superb defensive position in times of old, strong enough for its original inhabitants to ward off would-be conquerors for hundreds of years.
The defense finally came to an end in 106 A.D., when the Romans under Trajan took the city. Many surviving inhabitants fled and the busy Petra became a forlorn and eventually deserted place. Westerners wouldn’t even learn of Petra’s existence until 1812, when local Bedouins shared its story with a Swiss explorer named J.L. Burckhardt.
Hart intimately knew all the history of Petra that there was to know, but as he watched the sunlight spread across the striking stone facade of the treasury, his mind was on the future, not the past. This time, Petra’s defense would endure. No Roman invaders would capture her. Where the Nabataeans had failed, his people would succeed. His adversaries would be led here like a moth to a flame, while he kept a date with destiny.
During the 90s and 00s, Petra turned into a popular tourist stop, complete with five-star hotels on a mountain overlooking the picturesque canyon scene. A series of terrorist suicide bombs while the area was full of American college students on an archaeology study trip ended that era. Without tourism and without a climate and environment suited for any other enterprise, Petra died again. Property owners gladly parted with parcel after parcel when a shell corporation backed by Hardier Enterprises started buying. Money changed hands and no questions were asked. It was the way things worked in that corner of the world.
For two years, Jordanian laborers and imported construction workers—who were paid well and understood to keep their mouths shut or die—worked to turn Petra into a modern fortress. Reinforced concrete lined the sandstone walls inside rooms that had been hollowed out of the canyon walls thousands of years before. New tunnels were bored deep into the ground, leading to a self-contained power plant with enough diesel to power the complex for years, as well as freshwater and air conditioning systems that belied the harsh desert surroundings outside. To anyone who happened along, Petra would appear as she had for almost two thousand years. And they would not be allowed to look beyond the facade.
A small army of several dozen mercenaries guarded the area, vigilant for signs of intruders from the desert. Dressed in local garb and mounted on camels, the perimeter guards patrolled a 500-meter circle around Petra. Inside the canyon walls, another line of defense was made up of more heavily armed soldiers in desert camouflage gear with a cadre of advanced weaponry at their disposal, including shoulder-fired surface-to-air missiles and a variety of ground-to-ground armaments. The inner sanctum could be sealed with steel doors on a moment’s notice but there was no need. All was quiet in Petra.
Hart stooped to walk through the entrance of a small cave that opened into a larger cavern housing his private quarters. He sat in front of a computer—connected to the Internet via a satellite uplink/downlink concealed in a natural rock trough on top of the canyon rim—and opened his web-based Hotmail inbox. There waited the most recent email from the impertinent and irrelevant Decker, to which he typed a brief reply:
To: [email protected]
Subject: Spoils
Mr. Decker:
You proved to be an amusing and surprisingly resourceful adversary. With that in mind (although I find a reference to fair play laughable coming from a corrupt little weasel like yourself) I have elected to reward your meaningless victory by leaving be both your father and the Persian’s family.
GAME OVER.
After sending the email, Hart opened a file containing a document he had read many times. This would be the final reading, the one to cherish.
CONFIDENTIAL ANALYSIS OF JORDAN FAULT
BY: DR. CHAIM HILTON, Ph.D.
* * *
HISTORY: In the early twenty-first century, a pattern of unprecedented seismic activity was observed in the state of Israel. The activity comprised numerous minor tremors in the 1.5 – 3.0 range. Of more significance was the sudden commencement of activity where none had been previously observed. Subsequent measurement and analysis confirmed the existence of a paleo tectonic fault system, one that lay dormant for millennia and has now gone active. The system is exacerbated by the proximity of the vertical component of the fault to a known high pressure hydraulic vent. On the surface, the fault line extends from the northern Sinai region in Egypt, roughly north along the Israeli-Jordanian border to Lake Kinneret, at which point it extends diagonally across
Lebanon in a north-northwesterly trajectory. The fault is listric in nature, extending vertically along the fault line to an unusually shallow depth, then extending westward at a downward angle. The land mass of Israel is in essence an angular slab resting precariously upon what could be viewed as a giant underground hillside. The fault system was given the name JORDAN FAULT.
POST-DISCOVERY ANALYSIS: A dense system of remote electronic monitoring devices was installed along the fault line and augmented by a series of space-based seismic surveillance units. To oversee and coordinate study of the fault system, the Negev Academic College of Engineering established a research program under my guidance. Activity in the Jordan Fault continued to accelerate in both frequency and magnitude.
FINDINGS: Due to the speed at which the fault activity was developing, we moved quickly to form a panel of leading scientists from the United States, Great Britain, Russia, and other nations, in order to insure the highest confidence in our findings. Rarely has consensus among differing scientific camps been so thorough. Without significant dissent, it was agreed that the Jordan Fault is the most unstable seismic system on the planet.
STATUS: Stability continues to deteriorate at an alarming rate, but the seriousness of the situation remains largely masked by the low magnitude of continuing events. It is the vehement and unanimous opinion of this panel that adequate resources are not being allocated to this problem. And although this panel has complied with the confidentiality dictums imposed upon it by the state of Israel, we strenuously object to the continued concealment from the public of the facts contained herein.
OUTLOOK: It is possible that this system will eventually stabilize and return to dormancy. Such stabilization could take years, decades, or centuries. In the Jordan Fault’s current state of flux, however, the risk of a seismic event of cataclysmic proportion is high. The area immediately surrounding the primary fault line should be evacuated and protected. Any external stimulus could trigger the event. Possible stimuli include construction, military activity, or even normal motor vehicle traffic.
RAMIFICATIONS: A seismic event of magnitude 7.0 or greater is likely to start a chain reaction. The angular placement of the land mass, aided by the release of fluid from the nearby hydraulic vent, creates the potential for separation and lubricated gravitational slip. Bluntly stated, Israel could slide into the Mediterranean Sea. In addition to the near-total loss of human life and property on the land mass, this would in turn precipitate an oceanic event of severe proportions.
Hart smiled and closed the file, then left his quarters and went to the command center. “Status report,” he said to the man in charge of the local operation.
“All conditions nominal, sir.”
“And the corridor to the actual location?”
“Clear, sir.”
“Splendid. Come with me for a moment. I have a new slate of diversionary intelligence that needs to be distributed post-haste.”
60
11:12 PM CENTRAL DAYLIGHT TIME (LOCAL)
YELLOW CREEK
The damage was extensive. Every building in the complex had broken windows and cracked walls. Roofs had caved in on several. Fortunately the control building was one of the least damaged. The main power was out but the emergency generator had kicked in and systems were coming back online. Abdul’s disappearing accent was very much on my mind but I decided to act as if I hadn’t noticed and keep a close eye on him.
With the help of a deputy outside adjusting the satellite dish, he had just gotten the videoconferencing feed to Larry operational. When our picture came into view on their end we heard several cheers. “You made it!” Larry said.
“Yeah, we picked up some battle scars down here but we came through, Larry. Is Major Thompson around?”
“I think he’s still in the building. You need him?”
“No, just pass along my thanks for his help.”
“Will do. We’re showing power still on all across the Central region. What’s the status of the facility?”
“Heavy damage. We’re on auxiliary power here. The RADIAC teams are sweeping for levels. Trace amounts of radioactivity right on top of the explosion, but other than that everything is looking negative. You got any updates for me?”
“You bet. Media outlets all over received a communiqué from our boy Hart several hours ago. We knew you had your hands full so we didn’t mention it.”
“Any new clues?”
“Nothing obvious. This dude’s a whack job from the word go. Signed it as God. Our analysts are studying it.”
“Trace?”
“Nope, thoroughly cloaked.”
“Send it over as soon as you can. What else?”
“The Omaha office is hot to talk to you. Turns out the Fulton lady brought a flash drive out with her when she escaped. Has the beginning of a letter on it from the guy she says planted the device down there. He’s dead and gave the key to her just before he expired.”
“What’s in the letter?”
“I haven’t seen it yet. They’re supposed to email it directly to you. I gave them your addy.”
“Can you put me through to the office?”
“Sure thing. Hold.” He spun in his chair and worked a phone like a seasoned operator. “Patch is live. Go.”
“Mr. Decker?” It was the blissful voice of Jana Fulton.
“Call me Matt, Jana. How’s the horse?”
“Happy and well fed, I’m told. Was anyone hurt in the explosion?”
“Nothing serious. I believe you’ve said it was Dane Christian who planted the device here. Is he the one you got the flash drive from?”
“Flash? Oh, the thumbdrive. Yes, it was in his jacket. It has part of a letter on it, I think it was a confession. There was goodness in that man way down deep.”
“What about the rest of the letter?”
“It changes to gobbledy-gook after a couple of paragraphs. Hold on a second.” I heard her talking to someone in the background. “Matt, they said to tell you the file is corrupt but they’re sending it anyway.”
I got lost in her voice, which seemed pretty silly given the seriousness of the situation, but it captivated—”
“Did you hear me?” Jana said.
“Sorry, no.”
“They’re sending the file.”
My phone buzzed in my pocket. “I shut my laptop down before the explosion and haven’t booted back up yet. Ask them to send it to Abdul’s address. I’d like to see it right away on something other than my phone.”
“Give me the address and I’ll tell them.”
“A-B-D-U-L dot A-B-I-D-I at G-C-E dot D-O-P-U dot G-O-V,” Abdul said.
“Got it. Is there anything else I can help with?” she said.
“Not right now. Thanks, Jana.”
“Goodbye, Matt.” I nodded to Larry and he killed the patch to Omaha.
Abdul’s machine chimed.
“Larry, I’ll get back to you after we look this over. Did you say there was something from Hart too?”
“Yeah, already sent that to you.”
“Okay, back to you in a few.”
“Roger that, bud.”
Abdul opened the Christian attachment:
MY NAME IS DANE RUDOLPH CHRISTIAN. IN THE EVENT OF MY DEATH THIS MESSAGE MUST BE DELIVERED TO THE UNITED STATES GOVERNMENT. I HAVE BEEN INVOLVED FOR SEVERAL YEARS IN A PLOT TO CARRY OUT VARIOUS OPERATIONS FOR A MAN NAMED ABRAHAM HART. HE CLAIMS TO BE A MESSIAH AND HAS A HUGE NUMBER OF FOLLOWERS IN HIS CULT. THEY ARE EVERYWHERE, MORE THAN YOU CAN IMAGINE.
HART PAID ME AND MY LATE BROTHER, RIFFERT JAMES CHRISTIAN, TO ORGANIZE AND CARRY OUT CERTAIN ACTIONS. FOUR OPS ARE COMPLETE. I DO NOT KNOW NATURE OF FIFTH. SIXTH IS THERMONUCLEAR DEVICE HIDDEN BUILDING C YC COMPLEX. DISARM CODE 46656. I AM ATTACHING FILE FOR SEVENTH. SEVENTH IS DEVASTATING TO THE WHOLE WORLD AND MUST BE AT STOPPED AT ALL
Then garbled text went on for what would amount to thousands of pages.
“A corrupt file. Frigging unbelievable,” I said. “Now we k
now something ‘devastating to the whole world’ is in the works and we haven’t a clue.”
“I am afraid I do know what it is,” Abdul said. I turned to look at him and could’ve sworn that just for an instant I saw a flicker of a smile. Or maybe not.
“Talk to me,” I said.
“Look.” He tapped his display onto the big screen. “This is what was to be found in the final layer of the white horse steg file.”
There on the screen was a high-res image of a missile. Without any point of reference there was no way for us to know whether it was three feet long or thirty. The Russian writing on its side, however, was clear, as was the yellow international nuclear symbol near its business end. In light of my new leeriness of Abdul, I checked the file myself to be sure there were no more layers. There were not.
“Send this to Thompson, Abdul.” I gave him the major’s email address and he sent it.
“No riddles this time?” Tark said.
Abdul shook his head. “Only the one picture and nothing more.”
“Behold the seventh seal,” Tark said.
“Let’s look at the Hart document. Maybe it will give us a clue as to where this thing is headed.” Larry had already sent it to my mailbox so I reached for my laptop; it wasn’t there.
The vibration from the explosion had jarred it off the console. It was lying on the floor, the bottom casing cracked. I picked it up, plugged the AC adapter into the jack on the back, and hit the power button. Nothing. I looked closer and saw the crack wasn’t confined to the case; the power supply circuit board was split. The machine was trashed. “Just keeps getting better,” I said, then I found the email on my phone and forwarded it to Abdul.
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