The Grid

by Carlton Winnfield

  I admired Soares’ financial investment plan. It was straight forward, discreet and practical. With the detonation of the atomic weapon in the heart of the capital of Mexico, the key leaders of the Mexican State and its key institutions for internal security – intelligence, police and military – would be obliterated. The Machine had been able to access the agendas, both public and private, of the Mexican President and his key cabinet officers. All of them were scheduled to be in the capital on the fifth day from today in a private session concerning the growing threat of the drug cartels, notably Soares’. Although it had no factual evidence of this, the Grid believed that Soares – through his sources within the government – knew of this meeting and had selected that day as the date to detonate his weapon of mass destruction. While the leaders of the Mexican government gathered to decide how to put more teeth into their anti-cartel campaign, it was Soares’ intention to not only defang them, but to decapitate the government itself. With Mexico City a radioactive wasteland, the government in complete disarray and state institutions leaderless, the institutions themselves unapproachable, Soares would have his opportunity to challenge the Mexican government’s authority, perhaps, in the Grid’s estimation, even overthrow it. It thought the likeliest plan was for Soares – with no clear connection to the detonation in Mexico City – to attempt to establish an alternate political seat of national power elsewhere in Mexico, declare its existence and seek the recognition of sympathetic powers in Latin and South America and elsewhere – the man on the white horse riding in to bring security and stability to the people in their worst hour. The United States would react to this disaster, initially seeking to provide massive humanitarian aid and prevent, as best as would be possible in the circumstances, the spread of contamination northward toward and across the border. As Soares’ alternate seat of government came online, the United States would be forced to also deal with this perceived threat, perhaps even intervening with military force in the wake of significant deterioration in the organizational capacities of the Mexican police and armed forces. While the United States was focused on these horrifying and tumultuous events on its southern border, it would be forced to drastically upgrade its own domestic security programs. Given the country’s history, the psyche of its government and people would immediately turn to the possibility of a terrorist attack occurring on Unites States soil in a manner identical to that in Mexico City. In fact, the disorder in Mexico and the more insecure border between it and the United States would offer the perfect route for another rogue atomic weapon to enter US territory. Perhaps the second weapon was already in Mexico, the thinking would go. With the United States focused on its internal security, on its southern neighbor, the nuclear desert of Mexico City and the threats that all of these posed to it, Khan would strike in Pakistan. His objective would be to take control of Pakistan’s nuclear arsenal. The Grid’s Machines estimated that, if successful, Khan would detonate a second atomic weapon somewhere in Pakistan as a sort of ‘proof of life’. Khan would, similarly to Soares, establish an alternate seat of power in Pakistan, using his nuclear arsenal as both threat and hostage to gain his ends. He would call for all ultra-extremist Islamic splinter groups to gather with him in the new Caliphate, now armed with its own tools of ultra-persuasion – an equal to the powers of the crusader West. The United States, Great Britain and a few of the other Western states would view these events as a horrific prophecy come true – the worst of their nightmares, a Pandora’s box now opened that could feasibly be impossible to control with peaceful means. Given this and ongoing events at home and in Mexico, the United States would react, necessarily surging growth in its security and military arms, especially its deep strike and special operations forces. The value of the stocks of the US defense companies supporting this surge would skyrocket and Soares would reap the rich financial benefits of his investments in crimes against humanity, making him one of the richest men in the world. This was the assessment of the Grid’s best minds.

  The Grid knew that none of this was foreseen or even estimated by any of the national powers capable of trying to do something about it. None of them knew anything about the details of what was taking place. Another grand intelligence debacle was in the making. Another human catastrophe was unfolding its black wings in the shadows - unseen. Except by the Grid. You are gaining a clearer glimpse of why I work for them.

  The Machine had gone on to inform me that the Grid believed that the best way to interdict the plans of Soares and Khan was to destroy their two organizations and ensure the Pakistani nuclear weapon and its fissile material were returned to a competent authority. The Grid believed that the Mexican state was incapable of the former and, even if it somehow could, might in the end simply keep the weapon for itself, causing an unacceptable proliferation. Given Soares’ pervasive information network within Mexico, it believed that the United States could not act unilaterally or in concert with the Mexican military to accomplish these tasks within the time allowed without Soares’ organization learning of the impending intervention. In that event, the Grid believed that Khan would attempt to detonate the weapon or, failing that, remove the fissile material for use later, elsewhere. The Machine had reminded me that the instructions available to Khan would enable him to take that action. Soares, although not likely to detonate the weapon prematurely, could feasibly seek an agreement with Khan to disassemble the fissile material from the weapon for use later, elsewhere. In extremis, they would have a reasonable common course of action. Therefore, the Grid estimated that should it simply discreetly inform either the Mexican or US governments of the presence on Mexican soil of an atomic weapon and of Soares’ and Khan’s plans, it was feasible that the leaders of the two groups would survive and the weapon’s fissile material would be lost.

  Grid Actual had informed me personally that such a feasibility, from the Grid’s perspective, could not be left to run its course. She had then told me that the minds had come to the conclusion that the safest and surest way to prevent the reality of what Soares and Khan intended was for a single, capable individual to confront them directly, an action that would necessarily include an assault on the weapon site in Mexico City and the securing of the weapon. She told me that only someone with my experience and demonstrated ability had any real chance of success – they would not have asked me otherwise. She advised me that I would, of course, have the full support of the Grid and its resources. She then asked me for my thoughts.

  I told you they can be very dangerous.

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  The sound of a telephone dial tone. Then the ringing of a telephone and the sound of it being answered.

  “James Whitmore speaking. Just a moment, please.” The sound of talking, laughter and the tinkling of glasses in the background, slowly diminishing in volume. “Hello, Mr. Ramirez. I did not expect to speak with you until tomorrow morning. I presume you are calling concerning our discussion earlier today.”

  “Yes, James. I’m sorry to telephone at such a late hour and disturb what sounds like an enjoyable evening, but it is somewhat urgent.”

  “That’s quite all right, Manuel. What is it? Nothing unsettling, I hope.”

  “Perhaps a little, James. One of the clients has had some last-minute hesitation. You know how the very wealthy can be with their money, especially large sums. And given that he is the largest investor in this project, the others are now hesitating also. The principal client has apologized profusely to me for his change of heart, an apology that I find I must offer to you and your people. I thought you would want to know immediately – before you expended more effort on this undertaking. I will, of course, compensate you for the time you and your personnel have spent on this. You have my sincerest apologies, my friend.”

  “A little unsettling, yes. I was looking forward to the associated fees, as you can imagine. Still, such things can happen. No harm done. My man was away and unable to r
eally focus yet on your requirements. So there is nothing really lost. In fact, he will now be able to stay on his short holiday away from the office for a few more days. He will appreciate that and thank me. Still, I might ask you a small favor in the future - if I may, Manuel – for this small inconvenience.”

  “If I can offer you that favor, I would certainly be pleased to do so, James. Thank you for being so understanding. If the client swings back decidedly, I will get back to you, but I believe not. Enjoy your Caribbean evening, James. I look forward to the next time I can be of service to you.”

  “Thank you, Manuel. Good night.”

  The communication ended.

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  I slept for two hours and then went out, leaving the apartment complex by a side exit. It was 3 AM. The night air was soft, a little cooler, though still warm and polluted at this hour. I could taste it. I kept to the side streets, shuffling along my way, following the Machine’s directions, toward the weapon site. I needed to see it firsthand, myself, not through the eyes of the Machine and the OGS – measure distances, heights, depths, lighting, anything I could witness – to get a feel for it. You would do the same thing – trust me – if you intended to do what I did. Despite the Grid’s startling, almost magical resources, that feel could make all the difference. It had before. Also, I needed to complete this part of the setup, and for that, I needed to be close to the site.

  The Machine kept me away from groups of people larger than two or three persons. Along the way, I picked up odd bits of this and that, even an old bicycle with a wire basket hung in front of the handlebars above the front fender that the Machine had located earlier. The odds and ends went into the basket. I threw a long overcoat over the handlebars. The chain let off a soft rattling sound as it moved across the sprocket.

  “135 meters to your front – take the alleyway to the left. There is no one in it.” The Machine had deployed four Devices to reconnoiter my path. “At the end of the alleyway, go left for 32 meters to the main road. There – go right for 40 meters, then right again. You will then be on the side street, on the east side of the weapon site.”

  I moved down the first alleyway. Darkness and deep shadows with only one overhead lamp shedding light along its length. No lights on in the few windows of the buildings on either side of me. A large garbage container halfway along. Two piercing yellow eyes reflected just enough of the dim light for me to notice them watching me. Then, as I neared the container, their owner – a large black cat – bolted away, low to the ground, in the direction I was heading. Another predator, out in the night, working the jungle.

  “Missed him, did you?” I quipped.

  “Of course not. Your advance Devices noted the feline’s body heat before they visually noted it. I did not want to disturb your trains of thought with the information, as it offered no influence on your nocturnal activities. But thank you for asking.”

  There it went again – that all-too-human jab at the end of its response to me.

  “There is no one in the next alleyway. The cat went to the right, in case you are curious.”

  You see what I mean.

  I turned left into the next alleyway. Less darkness and shadow here, as more light arrived from the street lamps of the main avenue up ahead.

  “On the main avenue, there are occasional vehicles moving up and down it. Presently, there are seven persons on the avenue that will be within 75 meters of you when you turn right toward the weapon site. Of those seven, two men are now approaching the entrance to the alleyway you are now in. They are 15 meters distant and approaching from your left. Move to the wall on your left, stop, be silent and wait for them to pass on.”

  I moved and stopped. I was ten meters from the intersection of the alleyway and the main avenue. I saw shadows on the ground growing longer – left to right. Then voices speaking in Spanish. Then two men - one tall and heavy, the other of medium build – crossed in front of me deep in discussion; the smaller man, who was farther away from me, was gesturing as he complained about his wife’s lack of understanding of the pressures men were under in these times. His large friend was sympathetic. They did not notice me. Their voices diminished as they moved away.

  “Proceed.”

  I reached up and pushed my hair about, took the long overcoat from the handlebars and put it on, pushing it back off my shoulders. From the pocket of the coat, I took a battered hat and placed it askew to the left on my head. Lastly, I put a prosthetic in my mouth that changed the shape of my lower face. All of this gave me an unkempt appearance. I exaggerated the shuffle in my gait, walked to the corner and turned right. The two men who had passed in front of me were now fifty meters or more farther along in front of me. I shuffled along the sidewalk for forty meters, staying close to the building on my right, reached the next corner and turned right again into the side street. I took ten paces and stopped. I let my senses begin to take in my surroundings and that part of the objective that I could see.

  “The weapon site is to your left front, 110 meters on the other side of the street. None of Soares’ or Khan’s men are on this street, nor can they be seen from it. However, security communications between Soares’ men have revealed that they are watching the surrounding streets from the building in which the weapon is located. While they do not show themselves, they pay close attention to persons and vehicles passing and, especially, stopping in the vicinity of the building. It is professionally done. They will notice your passing.”

  I shuffled forward again, moving up the street on the side away from the building – where the light was dimmer. As I moved closer toward it, I passed in and out of relative shadow cast by the street lamps spaced along the street. When I was alongside the entrance to the underground garage – halfway along the building’s length – and came out of shadow into better light, anyone looking at me with binoculars or through the telescopic sight of a rifle would have seen a street bum, shuffling slowly along, nursing a game leg with the help of an old bicycle that carried probably all his worldly possessions. The watchers would have imagined the odor coming off an older man who wore a long overcoat in the heat of a warm Mexican night. They would have noticed, under the light, the swarming of many insects – just dots at that distance – around the bum’s head and shoulders, confirming the stench that they imagined.

  “Soares’ men on the side of the building overwatching this street have seen and reported you as a derelict badly in need of a bath. Congratulations.”

  When I moved back into shadow in an area between two of the street lamps, most of the insects that had been swarming about me flew off toward the weapon site.

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  Eight AM, the following morning. The sounds of a telephone ringing and then being answered.

  “Good morning. Is that you, James?”

  “Yes, Manuel, as promised. How are you this fine day? Sunshine there, I hope!”

  “The day is starting off well, James. Thank you. I trust you have good news for me.”

  “Yes, most certainly, my friend. In response to your request, within the half-hour, my investment strategist will be boarding an aircraft direct from Freeport to Mexico City. The plane arrives at 1330 this afternoon, your time. My man’s name is Carlton Winnfield. His Spanish is passable. I will send a secure e-mail to you with his photo and copy of his passport’s identity page. These are among several new security procedures I have initiated when dealing with the investments of the very wealthy, Manuel – procedures to ensure the safety of their investments and their confidentiality. Along these lines, once Mr. Winnfield arrives in your office, I would ask that you telephone me to conduct a teleconference to complete his introduction. I realize this all may sound a bit theatrical, my friend, but believe me, it is worthwhile. Is this to your satisfaction, Manuel?”

  “It is a bit theatrical, James, but yes
, I accept your sense of discretion. You have always provided the highest quality of service in the past. I’ve cleared my calendar for this afternoon to dedicate my full attention to Mr. Winnfield’s visit. What time can he be at my office? I’m happy to have my car pick him up at the airport.”

  “That is a very pleasant offer, Manuel. Thank you. But I’ve asked Mr. Winnfield to drop off some papers for me with another client in Mexico City first. It’s a question of timing and will only take a few minutes. Allow me to have Mr. Winnfield address that business for me and then come straight to you. He will be in your office no later than three PM. He will remain in Mexico City until your investments are concluded. Mr. Winnfield is quite capable of meeting your timeline. Is that satisfactory, Manuel?”

  “Absolutely, James. I very much appreciate your making Mr. Winnfield available to me on such short notice. Very kind of you, indeed.”

  “A great pleasure, Manuel. Until this afternoon then, when he is with you.”

  “Thank you, James. Until this afternoon.”

  The sound of the connection being ended.

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  After I had returned from the streets, I had slept a few more hours. I never forget that rest is also a weapon. I then spent the morning working with the Machine.

  By sunrise, it had directed the 42 Devices deployed during the night to the weapon site to reconnoiter and map the entire building – every room, storage area, ventilation shaft, work space, elevator shaft, crawlway, false ceiling, electrical duct, stairway, and subterranean garage area. The Machine could now present me with an extensively detailed 2-D or 3-D schematic of the entire structure, down to each electrical outlet. It knew where all of Soares’ and Khan’s men were at nearly every moment. When it showed me schematics of the weapon site, it now superimposed red dots onto them that represented the position of each of my 52 adversaries present anywhere in the building. The red dots on the schematic moved as the people they represented moved in the real structure.