by Mike Gilmore
That made sense to Randy. He once hired a man named Carlos Ramirez, born in Miami, for a sales position. The man’s parents were Cuban immigrants. Randy’s employee spoke both English and Spanish fluently. Many times when he worked with Carlos, the man would be talking with a customer in Spanish. Several times, he would suddenly switch back to English for only one work. Randy asked him later about the reason, and Carlos simply told him the English word did not exist in Spanish.
Randy saw Constance talking on a telephone. “Let’s find out if our English friends know if there is any relationship among these cities. The terrorists couldn’t possible try to hit all of these cities.”
The two men walked across the room to Constance as she hung up the phone. She informed them that DC Shepard had received the new information and ordered a renewed effort to find the two terrorists still loose in London.
Randy showed her the note. “This is the translation we got from the notebook. Do they mean anything to you?”
Constance took the sheet of paper in her right hand and quickly scanned the words and their English translations. She spread the fingers on her left hand to run them through her dark curly hair.
She confirmed what Randy and Marion already knew. “They’re towns and cities in the outer boroughs of London. I haven’t a clue as to their significance to this whole nasty affair.”
Randy pointed toward the front wall screen. “Can we bring them up on one of the monitors and see how they lie in relation to Trafalgar Square?”
“Yes … of course.”
Like newborn puppies following the mother dog, the two men walked behind Constance over to a monitor station in the back corner of the War Room. She showed the list to the young man sitting in the chair.
“James, can you plug these cities into your computer’s geographical program and show us their locations?”
He gave the list a very quick look. “Sure. No problem. It will just take a few minutes.”
The few minutes seem much longer to Randy; he worried where the next attack would take place. He had no doubt there would be another attack.
James’s fingers flew over the keyboard as he entered the information into the system. Finally he pressed the enter button several times. The screen changed to a map of Central London and the surrounding boroughs. The computer reduced the resolution to allow the entire map to appear on one screen.
The screen showed all the names of the towns listed on the sheet of paper. Nobody seemed to learn any new information from the map. Randy pointed at the various cities. “Can you connect the dots between the cities to see what the pattern would look like?”
James bobbed his head. “Sure, easy enough.” He entered more instructions into the computer using his keyboard. This time it took less than a minute to bring up the new map.
Now a red line connected all the cities on the map. It stretched north to Burrow Hill and down to Brixton and then generally southwest to four or five other cities, ending at Kempton. It reversed the course toward the northeast back to Burrow Hill. The line did not create any pattern that made sense to the people looking at the monitor. It certainly was not a circle, square, rectangle, or pyramid. Just a line bent to connect the cities.
Everybody was silent when Booker and Reader walked over to look at the screen. They had been sitting in the back of the room watching the large monitors and talking quietly. Randy was about to ask them if anything on the screen made sense to them from their point of view. He was a politician. They were the security experts.
As Randy opened his mouth to speak, Charlie Reader took a sip of water from the plastic bottle in his hand. Randy noticed it was the same brand found in the backpack.
“Where did you get the water, Charlie?”
Everyone turned to the young black agent. Charlie looked embarrassed, not quite knowing what he had done wrong.
“I … um … got it from the café on the lower floor. Sorry, Senator. I did not check to see if anybody else wanted something to drink. I’ll be glad to go back down to get whatever anybody wants.”
Constance was wondering why anyone, least of all the senator, would be worrying about Charlie getting water. “We have a small canteen right here on this floor. There is no reason to go all the way down to the third floor to the general canteen.”
Randy turned away from the group. He needed a few moments to put together the new idea that suddenly flooded his mind. Water? Why was water so important to him just now?
He turned quickly around to face the others. “How does London get its water? Do you have one single treatment plant or are there many facilities?”
The others in the room stared toward him with blank looks on their faces.
He stepped closer to the twenty-seven-inch monitor. “People. Think about it. Those three terrorist were dressed in the uniform of some water company. What was it?”
“Thames Water Utility,” Marion said. He knew where Randy’s thinking was taking them. He stepped toward James at the desk. “Can you bring up the water delivery system for Central London on your screen?”
James looked at Constance. She simply nodded for him to comply with the request.
The operator turned back to the keyboard and started to enter commands. It took longer than the first two minutes of his original search of the cities, but finally he sat back and watched the screen refresh to a new image.
It was almost the same image as before.
“No,” Charlie said. “We want to see how the water system flows. Not the cities on the sheet of paper.”
James took his index finger and thumped the screen, causing the twenty-seven-inch monitor to bounce slightly on its pedestal stand. “This is the layout of the Water Ring Main around London.”
Randy spoke next. “What do you mean ‘Water Ring Main’?”
Constance jumped into the conversation. “London gets its fresh water from a variety of rivers and lakes but mostly from the River Thames. The London Water Authority has spent billions of pounds to clean up our water and build the Thames Water Ring Main to deliver the water to all of London and the many inner and outer boroughs.”
“That’s it,” Randy said. “That’s their target. The potable water system.”
Phillip Booker could not stop from blurting out the first thought in his mind. “You’ve got to be kidding me. With all the bullets and bombs in the world, you think this whole thing is about water. Senator, please do not take this as a sign of disrespect, but look at the screens on the wall. That is what terrorist do. They shoot people, blow up buildings, and use car bombs to kill more people. How do they kill people with water?”
Randy moved away a few steps and then turned back to explain his thinking. “All right. What I am proposing is a little farfetched. I want you to consider two historical events. The Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor in 1941. Their sneak attack destroyed or heavily damaged our Pacific battleships fleet. Their primary targets were the three aircraft carriers the US Navy had in the Pacific, but the ships were not in Pearl Harbor at the time of the attach. Our country lost 1,177 sailors plus a lot of army personnel at Hickam and other places on the island.
“But we recovered. By the end of the war, the United States Navy possessed almost one hundred aircraft carriers.
“Let’s look at more recent numbers. Look at the destruction caused by two jet airliners in New York City on 9-11. The United States suffered 2,997 dead from the attack. It was terrible. We will never forget Pearl Harbor or 9-11. All that damage—but we recovered. The president of the United States was in New York City in less than ten days after 9-11, telling people to come visit New York.”
Randy pointed toward the large group of center monitors still showing the devastation to Trafalgar Square. “That is a terrible mess that will be talked about for months and years to come, but how much of London will be able to operate normally tomorrow morning?
&nbs
p; “The long-term effect of what these terrorist did to your city is not permanent. Maybe their real target is the Thames Water Ring System. How would that attack affect the entire population of London, and how long would it take to repair the damage?”
Marion Bellwood pointed at the monitor. “Constance, you need to get security people to those installations—and right now.”
She shook her head. “Everything is focused right now on Trafalgar Square. It would take time to organize multiple operations to get heavily armed forces to each of these facilities. I’m worried that we don’t have very much time.”
Marion spoke again. “You’re correct. If Randy’s has identified the correct target, then Trafalgar Square was a diversion from their actual target. We may already be too late.”
Randy pulled Marion off to the side. When they were able to talk quietly, he laid out the next idea he had. “Marion, you’ve got those extra embassy culture attachés just sitting around on their butts. Let us use those men to check out these locations. They’ve got cars and GPS equipment, and I assume they are capable of handling this type of situation.”
Marion was quiet for a few moments. “American security forces running around England chasing terrorists? How will that play out in the news back home, or even here?
Randy responded quickly. “If they find these guys and stop them, then who cares? We saved our cousins from across the pond. If there is nothing to find at these locations, then your men were out sightseeing, just like any other tourist.”
Marion made a quick decision. “All right, let’s get them moving.”
Together they walked back to where Constance and BookReader were waiting. Marion quietly cleared his throat to get their attention. “I’ve got some men at the American Embassy we can utilize in this situation. Constance, we would need your assistance to coordinate their activity. Will you help us?”
The young Englishwoman did not hesitate. “Absolutely. What do you need?”
Randy interrupted. “Constance, of these fifteen locations, which one would be the most important?”
Marion looked at his friend but kept his mouth shut for the moment while Constance looked back down at the monitor on James’s desk. “They’re all important in the scheme to deliver water and handle waste from London. If any one was taken out, it would cause a disruption in services.”
Randy pressed her for a better answer. “I realize they’re all part of the system, but certainly one of them has to rank higher as a target for the terrorist. We need your best guess.”
Constance looked at Randy and then at the young man at the desk. “James … What do you think?”
The younger man simply looked at the screen. “Sorry, Constance, but I don’t really know much about the water ring. We turn on the tap and water magically appears.”
Constance felt the pressure growing. She believed the senator had a real strong theory, but they needed directions for focusing their limited resources. Finally, she pointed to the large reservoir on the screen. “Honor Oak. That would be my first target if I were a terrorist.”
Randy smiled—he knew Constance had put herself into the role of a terrorist. “Why?”
“Two reasons. It is one of the world’s largest underground storage facilities for drinking water. It can supply water for up to eight hundred thousand people each day. If it was taken out, the effect would be long-term and costly to repair.”
Booker spoke before the others. “What is the second reason?”
Constance gave a sheepish smile. “I was raised not too far from that area. It’s the one place on the list I know the most about.”
Randy pointed to the spot in the southern portion of Outer London. “All right. That is where I’m going.”
Marion broke his silence. “What the hell do you mean ‘you’re going’? You’re not a security agent.”
Randy pointed up toward the main screen. “I’m done standing around here watching all of this mess. If Honor Oak is where my suspect is, then that is where I am going. You and BookReader are not going to stop me.”
Marion saw the look of determination on Randy’s face. He decided they needed to get their operation in motion rather than stand and argue with each other. He turned to Phillip Booker. “Phil, I want you to stay here and contact our people at the embassy. You, Constance, and James can coordinate their approach to each of the other locations.”
He pointed at Constance. “I need you to supply the address for each location to these men and contact any local police to meet them at the locations. Warn the local LEOs they might be facing armed terrorist.”
James looked from his screen to the CIA deputy director of operations. “Local LEOs?”
Phillip provided the answer. “Local enforcement officers.” He looked toward his boss. “What are you going to do, sir?”
Marion pointed at Randy. “Charlie and I are going with Randy to Honor Oak to keep him out of trouble.”
Constance grabbed a memo pad from James’s desk and quickly wrote down some information. “Here is the address for the Aquarias Golf Course. Honor Oak is buried beneath the golf course.”
Randy grabbed his heavy coat and slipping it over his right shoulder. When his right hand popped out the end of the sleeve, he grabbed the note from her hand. “Let’s move guys.”
Constance looked at the three men preparing to leave and then her eyes fell on Charlie. He gave her a quick smile, but she needed more. Constance took the three steps that separated them, grabbed his coat collar, and pulled his head down to her own. “You take care of yourself, Charlie Reader.” She planted a quick kiss on his lips and ran her right hand over the top of his head against the thick stubble of his short hair.
Charlie flashed her a quick smile and looked over toward his boss. Marion just gave him a shake of his head and turned to follow Randy Fisher out the door. In less than ten minutes, the three men were inside their rented car and driving out of the VIP parking spot at the rear of the Scotland Yard building.
Chapter 51
Chesapeake, VA
Thursday, December 3, 2015
2:10 p.m.
News of the terrorist attack in London flashed around the world. The British press had known something was causing the local security authorities to increase their vigilance. The violence at Trafalgar Square caught them by surprise as well as the British population.
At the Washington CNN office, coverage shifted from the filibuster in the Senate and the president’s road trip from Richmond to Chesapeake, Virginia, to the massacre in London. Their London associates carried the broadcast workload, reporting from just outside of the Trafalgar Square area.
US-based reporters were trying to get comments from members of Congress and the president just before the Secret Service decided the open bus tour was now too dangerous for their protectee.
The president said as he was stepping off the bus, surrounded by a mass of agents, “This is a sad day for our friends in England and specifically London. We offer our sympathies to the survivors of the victims who lost their lives in this cowardly act of terrorism. Since 9-11, we know all too well the effects of an act of terrorism like this. I pledge to provide all possible support to the British government to find the people behind this terrible deed.”
Harold Miller allowed the agents to escort him to his personal armored limousine, which had been shadowing the bus, when a reporter called out a question he could not ignore.
“Mr. President, in light of today’s terrorist attack in London, do you think the three Davids should stop the filibuster?”
Miller knew he needed to take great care not to try to make any political gain from the tragedy in London. However, the opportunity to apply more pressure on the three senators holding up his legislation was too great to pass.
“Any person who wastes the time of the United States Senate or the House of Representatives should be
ashamed of themselves. Is it any less shameful when our attention at this minute should be with our friends in London? I will leave that answer to the American public.”
In his limousine, out of sight of any reporter, Miller could not keep a smile from forming on his face. He looked across the seat to Alison Warden, packed inside the vehicle by the Secret Service. “Make sure our three friends in Washington are bombarded by that last comment I made in front of the reporters.”
Chapter 52
Washington, DC
Thursday, December 3, 2015
3:00 p.m.
Avery Doaks hurried to his Senate bench desk, glancing over at Senator Chip Saunders, the current floor-holder in the filibuster. He was about to throw the hardest verbal punch to date against the three renegade senators.
Saunders had returned to the original six reasons why the Senate should not allow the Fair Share Bill to move forward. He had been going with this list since his shift began at noon.
Doaks waited until Saunders had finished the list for the countless time and used his voice for the first time in several days on the floor of the Senate.
“Will the senator yield for a question?”
Saunders knew he could only yield the floor to either Handley or Laird. The one exception was to yield temporarily to another senator for a question. Any other activity he allowed could cost him control of the floor.
“I yield to Senator Doaks for a question only.”
Doaks looked at Chip Saunders but directed his question to the other Senate members in the chambers and to the press gallery again filled to capacity.
“Is the senator aware of the tragic events that have occurred in London?”
Saunders took a moment to prepare his answer. So much time passed that Senator Doaks was about to ask if Saunders was yielding the floor.
“I am aware of the tragedy in London, Senator Doaks. I would like to ask the Senate to observe a full minute of silence to pay our respects to the dead and wounded, but Senate rules will not allow me to go a full minute without speaking. Therefore, I will use the next minute to say a prayer for the dead and wounded victims and their family members aloud.”