“Boss,” Christopher whispered, raising his hand.
“Hey, guys. Sorry for the change in plans, but we really need to have this conversation in person. Everyone inside the Razor, yeah?”
The inside of the Razor was a bit cramped with fifteen bodies inside, but after seven hours in the BMP, Nick didn’t mind. He had Mary hook up her netbook to one of the Razor’s larger plasma monitors then turned to address his men. “All right, folks. We’ve found out what’s going down in the lab ten kliks away, and ‘nasty’ doesn’t even begin to cover it. For starters, there’s a virus that targets Caucasoid gene markers—as Mary put it, a disease that kills white people. That’ll be deployed in three weeks.”
The Razor crew fell silent.
“Unfortunately, that’s not all. There are five other projects in development at the lab, and some of them are worse. You’ll have the day to look at them, because we’re not going in until tonight.”
“Um…boss…going in? Shouldn’t we just destroy the lab and get the hell out of here?” Christopher asked.
Nick nodded. “Oh, we’re going to destroy the hell out of it. Martin, Mary’s got all of the specs on the building. I want you to work with her to figure out just how to make that happen. But before we do that, there’s something we need to steal. Something that could give us a fighting chance in this war.” Nick nodded to Mary, who brought an image up on the screen. It was a floor plan of the lab’s fourth floor, and the image quickly tracked through the halls and stopped on a very small room near the back of the building. “This is Room Thirteen, ladies and gentlemen. I know it doesn’t look like much, especially compared to the rest of the lab, but this is where we’re going to find the technology that could turn this whole thing around.”
“Wait, wait. Back up a minute. How are they going to deliver this virus?” Anthony asked.
“A weaponized aerosol, loaded into a warhead and detonated about two hundred feet above a battlefield,” Nick answered.
“No way that’ll work,” Johnny said. “Our missile-detection systems’ll spot that thing hundreds of miles away and take it out before it gets close enough to do any damage.”
“Ah. And that’s where we get to Room Thirteen,” Nick replied, nodding to Mary.
She punched a couple of keys, and an image of a small, cylindrical machine popped up on the screen.
“This is the project in Room Thirteen. They’re building a bigger one down on the main floor, but this one actually works.”
“And that’s…what?” Michael asked.
“This is an electromagnetic pulse cannon,” Nick said. “Broad strokes…fire it at a target, it knocks out anything electronic in its blast radius.”
“Point it at a Razor, and all the tech in the vehicle goes dead. Computers, comms, hybrid drive, all of it?” Christopher asked.
“The small one on the screen here, sure. That’ll take out a couple of Razors. The big one they’re working on is designed to be carried by an MI-26TC helicopter, and has a blast radius of three square miles.”
“Shit. That could wipe out an entire Firebase,” Carson said.
“Correct. Which means no missile defense, and only the older vehicles would even run. Then the Chinese fire in the virus warhead, which’ll wipe out a bunch of our forces…and then they can just roll on in with their fully operational CDMs and mop up whatever’s left, which won’t be much—six or seven guys with M4s, effectively.”
The Razor went silent yet again.
“Which is why we’re going to steal it and use it against them. We’ll grab the schematics for the large device and grab the operational prototype. I know it’s not in our mission profile, but the possibilities this weapon represents are just too important to ignore. I’m sure Colonel Ross would at least want us to try, anyway,” Nick said.
“It’s a big risk, but I tend to agree,” Johnny said, looking around the Razor for any signs of disagreement. There were none.
Nick continued, “Mary will hack every design note on the device out of the Chinese Army network, along with everything we can find on the virus. Then we blow the joint and run like hell.”
“Blowing the joint…that’s gonna take some doing, boss,” Martin said, thumbing through the building schematics on one of the Razor’s screens.
“What do you need?”
“To completely turn the place into rubble and make sure it burns hot enough to vaporize all traces of the virus? Thermobaric might work, but best bet’s nuclear. One, two kilotons oughta do it. Relatively small device. I can do that.”
“Please don’t tell me we’ve been riding around with a nuke this whole time,” Peter said with a groan.
Martin ignored him, instead turning back to Nick. “I can get it done. But is this electromagnetic pulse cannon thing really worth stealing? Why not just blow the place, hack the data and go on home?”
“I thought about that,” Nick told them, unslinging one of the Chinese assault rifles he’d found in the passenger area of the BMP. “Take a look at this.”
“Yeah. Chinese assault rifle. Seen one of those before, remember, boss?” Gabriel said.
“Yep. Remember those nifty computer-amplified sights? All the cool tech toys on the rifle and in the CDM?” Nick asked, yanking the power pack from the weapon and tossing it to Gabriel.
Gabriel caught the rifle in both hands and looked it over.
“Go ahead. Shoot one of us. Me, if you want,” Nick said with a shrug.
“I’m not gonna shoot you, boss.”
“Right. Toss it back,” Nick said, catching the weapon when Gabriel threw it back to him. He pointed the rifle at the floor and pulled the trigger several times. Nothing happened—not even a dry clicking noise to indicate the gun wasn’t loaded.
“The Chinese are way ahead of us in tech. Problem is, you kill the power to ninety-five percent of their devices, and they don’t work. A CDM’s guns are all computer-controlled. UAVs fly on computer brains. Their uniforms are augmented with battlefield computers, their helmets with site-visualizing screens. Even the rifles won’t shoot without power.” Nick smiled.
“Those CDMs are shielded like a motherfucker, though,” Bryce piped up.
“Not from an electromagnetic pulse.” Daniel smiled. “I remember my physics. That’ll stop ‘em dead, armor or no.”
“You’ve got that right, Daniel. And good on you for paying attention in high school physics.”
“College, Nick.”
“Even better.”
“But say they manage to bring one of those to a fight anyway,” Rogan proposed. “They could shut us down, too.”
“You’re right. They could conceivably rebuild the EM-pulse cannon and use it on us. But these,” Nick said, holding up his M4, “fire just fine without power.”
“Right. Fine, then. But how do you suggest we get in there, set up a nuclear device, steal tech, and get out without dying in the blast?” Johnny asked, arms crossed.
“Believe it or not, I have a plan for that.” Nick smiled.
“Oh, man. I do not like the look of that smile one bit.” Christopher shook his head.
“We’re lying low here during the daylight hours. Continue with the sleep and day watch shifts as usual. I’ll be coming to each of you to discuss your part in the operation as the day progresses. Martin, I think it’s fairly obvious what your job’s going to be.”
Martin nodded, his scarred face twisting into a full smile. “I’ll get started on my prep work.”
“Hey, Marty, man. You never answered me. We haven’t been riding around with a damn nuclear bomb in here, have we?” Peter asked.
Martin just kept smiling as he walked toward his pile of gear.
Chapter 32
We Got The Neutron Bomb
Mary and Ryan had gone back to the BMP with the Rangers to start their hack on the Chinese and North Korean networks. Nick loaded a program on Mary’s netbook to help her translate the Chinese enough to complete her work, as he knew he’d be needed elsewhe
re.
Nick sat at the comm station, watching Martin pull a military-issue duffel bag from his gear and drag it to the center of the Razor.
“That looks heavy,” Michael said.
“About a hundred and sixty pounds. So not exactly light,” Martin said with a grunt.
“Ah, shit,” Peter said, shaking his head. “That’s what I think it is, isn’t it?”
“Back in the day, they would’ve called this an SADM—Special Atomic Demolition Munition. I hacked one together at the boss’ request,” Martin said, nodding to Nick.
“So what does that mean in English?” Peter asked.
“It means, yes. We have a nuclear bomb. A little bit more powerful than the one that blew up in L.A., am I right?” Nick asked Martin.
“Yeah. One in L.A. was estimated at 1.1 Kilotons. This one has a yield of 1.58. It’ll turn the lab into a crater, turn the virus into ions, and do some damage at least three kilometers out.”
“How the hell did you ‘hack together’ a nuclear bomb?” Michael asked.
“It’s not that hard. Shaped charges, uranium, timer. Simple,” Martin said, shrugging.
“Can the guys inside defuse it before it blows?” Christopher asked.
“Well, they are scientists, so I’m sure they probably could. If they could get to it, which they won’t be able to do,” Nick said.
“How do you figure that?” Daniel said.
“We’re going to do to them what they tried to do back at Camp Justice. We’re going to lock it inside the Razor and run like hell.”
“And us? How do we get out?” Christopher asked.
“We’re going to split into two and a half teams.”
“Two and a half?”
“Yeah. Two, and then the first team will split off again. Here’s how I see it working: the first team will be on distraction. Throwing a lot of gunfire at the lab. Then one part of the first team—me, specifically—will split off and grab the EM-pulse prototype. First team’s going to be directly in the line of fire, and I have to warn you, the survivability matrix on that one’s not great.” Nick let that sink in for a moment before he continued. “The second team will be securing our escape vehicle. Major Evans will be leading that team. I’ve already spoken to him.”
“And who’ll be on that team?” Martin asked.
“Whoever, apart from you and Bryce, doesn’t volunteer for my team. Sorry I have to order the two of you specifically, but I need your special skills for my part of the operation.”
Martin nodded.
“No big, boss. I was facing life plus back home.” Bryce shrugged.
“Thanks, Bryce. I’m going to need two more volunteers.”
“I’m going,” Daniel said.
“Thought you might. Glad to have you aboard. Who else?” Nick asked.
“Yeah, what the hell.” Christopher sighed, raising his hand.
“Thanks, brother. All right. The rest of you will grab your weapons and report to Major Evans as soon as it gets dark. In the meantime, you’ve got,” Nick checked his watch, “five hours. Time’s yours, though I’m afraid we can’t leave the Razor. Air-filtration’s on though, so smoke if you got ‘em.”
Nick turned back to the comm station and downloaded a few files from the Razor’s central computer onto his e-reader. As his crew shuffled around him, he began studying the lab’s floor plans, committing his route to memory. He ran through the schematics on the EM-pulse prototype—seventy-eight pounds, just light enough for him to carry on his own and still run for the escape vehicle.
After he walked through his plan several times, Nick gathered the gear he’d need. He loaded four of the Glock sidearms and attached their holsters to his belt—he didn’t want to have to waste time reloading. Nick also grabbed fifty feet of high-tensile nylon rope, a Marine-issue KA-BAR and a pair of TotalVis goggles. He took off his BDU jacket and hung it over the back of the comm station’s chair. He wasn’t going to need it, and it would only slow him down.
All his preparations took just over an hour, and Nick found himself at a loss for anything to do.
Worst part is the downtime, he remembered his father telling him when he was thirteen. Alex had just been called up to go to Iraq, and Nick had asked about what it was like to go to war. It was the last time he saw his dad.
You wanna do something, anything to help ensure the outcome of the mission. But you can’t. You overprepare, you’ve got too much going on in your brain when you get in there. Thinking too much is just gonna get you killed. You wish you could just catch some sleep, but you’re too keyed up. So what do you do?
“You sit, and you wait. It’ll come soon enough,” Nick whispered to himself, sitting down in the comm station chair, crossing his legs and closing his eyes. He concentrated on slowing his breathing and his heartbeat until those were the only thoughts in his head.
“Major Evans on the comm, sir,” Anthony told him some time later.
Nick cracked open one eye and checked his watch. Thirty minutes to go time.
“All right. Let’s get this party started,” Nick said, taking the handheld comm from Anthony. “Major Evans,” Nick said into the radio.
“Yeah, I think we’ve been through enough in the last couple of days. You can call me Johnny,” he said with a chuckle over the line.
“Fair enough.”
“We’re all set over here. The worms and Trojans are loaded, ready to rip the hell out of both networks on the word ‘go.’“
“Looks like we’re less than a half an hour from deployment. I’ll be sending over my guys in fifteen. Keep an eye on them, yeah?” Nick tried to smile when he said it, to keep his voice light, but his words came out flat and serious.
“Like they were my own.”
“You got the location on our ride?”
“Yep. And Ryan coded this BMP into the duty logs of the vehicles guarding it. We should be able to get right up on it, but when the shit goes down…well, let’s just say we’ll have a fun time keeping it.”
“My guys are bringing up all the weapons and ammo from the Razor. Burn it all. Either we make it out, or it’s no good to us anyway.”
“Roger that. Your guys briefed on our part of the scheme?”
“Broad strokes. They’re all yours to assign as you please.”
“How’s Freddie?” Johnny asked. “He conscious still?”
“Getting stronger, but he still can’t walk. Gabriel’s going to be able to carry him no problem, though.”
“That the big guy? Tattoos?”
“Yep.”
“All right. Nothing left but to get to it, I suppose.”
The channel was silent for a moment. Nick had no idea what to say, but when he realized Johnny wasn’t saying anything either, he broke the silence.
“Suppose you’re right. We’ll wait for you to roll out then follow after ten minutes. Hit any snags before then, and flag us on this channel. After that…well, we’re probably not going to have much time for chatter.”
“Probably not. It’s been good working with you, Marine.”
“You too, Ranger.”
Nick cut off the connection and turned to his men. “Team two, load up. You’re transferring to the BMP in ten minutes. It’s cramped as hell in there, but it’ll be much more pleasant than it’s going to get in here.” Nick smirked.
“Don’t feel right leaving you here, boss.” Anthony shook his head as he slung an M4 over his back.
“You’ll see me again in a half an hour if all goes to plan. Until then, follow Major Evans’ orders just like you’d follow mine, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Keep an eye on the rest of our guys and make sure they do the same. Can I count on you for that?”
“You got it.”
Nick had to try hard to keep his voice even. He knew his mission wasn’t exactly the safest, knew Major Evans was an experienced commander…but still, he was worried about his men. His friends.
“All right. Be safe out there.”
“You too, boss.”
A few moments later, Nick watched on the Razor’s night-vision cameras as his men scurried across the field to the hidden BMP. They loaded up in less than a minute, and Nick’s handheld clicked on.
“Team two is ready to go,” Major Evans reported.
“Okay. Rangers, lead the way.”
“I see what you did there,” Johnny said with a laugh. “See you in about twenty.”
The BMP started up and rolled toward the lab ten kilometers away. Nick watched it recede on the horizon, then rolled his neck and cracked his knuckles.
“All right, guys. Let’s get in our places. Bryce, you’re obviously on the wheel. Martin, you’re prepping the bomb, of course. I’ll take the weapons station, which leaves you two in the turrets.” Nick nodded at Daniel and Christopher.
“Just one thing before we plunge into that pit of hell,” Christopher said, his face a mask of stone.
“Yeah, Chris?”
“We survive this, I expect beer. Lots and lots of beer.”
Nick laughed. “You’re on.”
The Razor was running on stealth and halfway to the lab when Nick’s radio went off again.
“BMP-1 in position.”
“Razor 4-7 Echo inbound. Time to get ugly,” Nick radioed back, then put the radio in his cargo pocket. He put a wireless earpiece in his left ear, paired it to the radio and switched it on, but no further transmissions came in from the BMP.
“Weapons live, gentlemen. We’re about to arrive at the lab.”
“Where do you want me to park this big bitch, Nick?” Bryce asked.
Nick brought up a floor plan of the lab on the flatscreen between them. He flicked through some images until he settled on one of the first floor. “Hmm. How about there?” he replied, pointing at the center of the image.
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