The Bid

by Adrian Magson

  She studied Chadwick’s map again. Trying to decrypt the scribbles in the margins had been a major tease from the moment she’d first seen them. Logic again told her that a man like Chadwick was accustomed to dealing in numbers and letters and specific details, a man who had passed through Wall Street and London, then through the US Air Force Intelligence apparatus. All were environments where clear and concise thinking was paramount, and she was willing to bet that Chadwick would not have made these notes without some purpose. Maybe he’d heard them mentioned before he disappeared. They must have meant something at the time, something that had made the analytical side of his brain seek to retain them for consideration later.

  She had an idea. She took the map down and carried it through to a photocopier in the outer office. She made three copies of the margins where the scribbled notes had been made and took them to Reiks and Vaslik.

  “Photocopies sometimes make handwritten text clearer,” she told them. “See what you can make from these just by looking at the scribbled notes.”

  They sat and stared at the words, or portions of words. For several minutes there was just the distant sound of traffic in the street below and a phone ringing in an adjacent part of the building. Reiks stood up and walked round the office a couple of times, then muttered something indistinguishable before going over to the corkboard where he pinned a sheet of plain paper. He wrote down several words, then stood back. “That’s what I see. How about you two?”

  Ruth and Vaslik stared at what he’d written.

  Alt … Van … FtSill … McA … Tin.

  “Nothing,” said Ruth. “Sorry. Slik?” She turned and found Vaslik was grinning. “What?”

  “I’ll leave it to Walter,” he said.

  “Military bases,” said Reiks. “They’re all military bases in Oklahoma.” He nodded at Vaslik, who tapped the keyboard and waited, then nodded.

  “He’s right. Oklahoma has five facilities: Altus, Vance, and Tinker are all USAF; Fort Sill is army; and McAlester is an army ammunitions base.”

  Ruth studied the map again. They were right. It defied logic in one sense, but there could be only one reason why Chadwick had noted down five military facilities in the state of Oklahoma.

  “It’s a list of targets,” she said softly.

  Seconds later Vaslik had Tom Brasher on the phone with the conference button open.

  “What’s happening at any of the military bases in Oklahoma in the next two or three weeks?” he asked.

  “Huh? Why? I’m in the middle of something here—”

  “Humour us.”

  “Military, you say?”

  “Yes.”

  “I have no idea. Hold on a second.” He put the phone and they heard him speaking in the background. When he came back, his voice sounded constricted as if he’d chocked on something indigestible.

  “Which base are you talking about?”

  “Any of them.” Vaslik named them all.

  “Jesus, I hope you’re not serious about this. Where did this list come from?”

  Vaslik explained about the map and the scribbles. “Chadwick was researching some issues to do with abandoned airfields, but he also made notes of these places, although we have no idea why.”

  “Well, I hope to hell he wasn’t serious,” Brasher muttered, “because the day after tomorrow, Air Force One will be landing at Altus Air Force base where the president is due to give an inspection and talk to the personnel.”

  For several seconds nobody spoke; the implications were frightening. Finally Brasher broke the silence. “Perhaps you’d better tell me what it is you think you’ve discovered.”

  Vaslik looked at Ruth and nodded. She said, “We think Paul and his friends are planning a strike of some kind on the base using the drones stolen from Memphis.”

  “Drones? How?”

  “We don’t know … but if you recall what Patric Paget told us about the modifications his techs made to the Moskitos for dispersing smoke, it won’t be explosives.”

  There was a further stunned silence while Brasher digested the idea. Then another voice joined in somewhere in the background and Brasher muttered an obscenity. “Are you at Cruxys?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, stay fucking put—I’m coming over.”

  Somewhere in the building a phone rang, then stopped. Walter Reiks went off to check on the agency worker. When he came back he was looking puzzled and irritated.

  “What’s up?” said Ruth.

  “I’m not sure. Did you leave word with anybody about your movements?”

  “No. The office in London, but that was all. Why?”

  Walter stuck a thumb over his shoulder. “The agency temp just took a call from the London office asking if you’d arrived yet. She told them yes, but the caller hung up without leaving a message.”

  Ruth exchanged a look with Vaslik, then picked up the phone and called London with a simple question.

  “No, Ms. Gonzales,” was the answer. “Nobody called from here.”

  thirty-one

  Brasher walked in thirty minutes later with another man in tow. Neither of them looked happy, albeit for different reasons.

  “This is SAC John Kraski,” said Brasher, nodding at his companion. “He’s been tasked with overseeing and providing analysis on all current warnings and alerts relating to potential terrorist activities and liaising with the Secret Service. You’ll need to run your latest findings on the Chadwick situation past him.” His face was a complete blank but none of them needed telling that Brasher wasn’t happy with being coat-tailed by a senior colleague.

  Kraski looked as if he might enjoy chewing six-inch nails for fun. He studied each of the three Cruxys investigators as if they were lab rats, dwelling longest on Walter Reiks, who gave him a sour look in return. Tall and crisp as a window-mannequin, with pale skin and neatly parted grey hair, Kraski exuded self-importance and an air of impatience.

  “I think you’ve already heard pretty much everything we have,” said Reiks, “but why don’t we sit and talk?” Without waiting for anyone to answer, he walked along the corridor into a meeting room that smelled of fresh paint. There was a table and eight chairs, but nothing else. “I’m sorry for the lack of facilities,” he said, gesturing for them to sit down, “but we’re just getting set up.”

  “Who’s in charge here?” Kraski asked bluntly.

  “I am.” Reiks nodded at Ruth and Vaslik. “My two colleagues, Ruth Gonzales and Andy Vaslik, are over from the London office conducting a search for a missing client, James Chadwick.”

  Kraski didn’t offer to shake hands, but gave a curt nod and sat down. “Okay, so where are you on this Chadwick business?”

  “We have reason to believe that James Chadwick has been kidnapped by at least two men with extremist links—that is to say, extremist Islamic links—who appear to be connected to the theft of six drones from the FedEx hub at Memphis International. These drones are very high-spec machines that have been modified in such a way that they could be used as weapons.”

  “On what?”

  “We’re working on that.”

  “Really.” Kraski looked at them in turn, his expression sceptical. “It’s a bit thin, isn’t it?”

  “We don’t think so, Mr. Kraski,” Ruth said carefully. “The evidence we’ve gathered suggests Chadwick could be coerced into flying the drones.” She placed Chadwick’s map on the table. “We know Chadwick was researching airfield sites in remote areas of the States just before he disappeared, and—”

  “Why?”

  “We’re not sure, but bearing in mind his prior service in USAF Intelligence, we can only assume that he was given enough information to prompt him to look into the background of this plan. He’s an expert in drone technology so it’s safe to assume he knew they would want to do the training somewhere remote and free
of observation by the authorities. He was probably only part-way through his research when he disappeared.”

  “That’s a lot of supposition.”

  “You’re right, it is.” Ruth met his scepticism without flinching. “In addition, we know he singled out five military bases in Oklahoma, one or more of which we think may be the eventual target for an attack.”

  “And you believe that target might be Altus, am I right?” Kraski glanced at Brasher, although apparently not to get confirmation; the look wasn’t that friendly.

  “It’s not unreasonable. Your president is going to be there the day after tomorrow. We think the people planning this would view it as a prime piece of propaganda if they could carry out a two-pronged attack in the same place; one on a military facility, the other on the person of the US president.”

  Kraski grunted. “Right. So let me get these details straight.” He stared up at the ceiling with a puzzled frown. “You claim to have a group of terrorists who may or may not have stolen a consignment of small commercial drones; these same men have tried to coerce or may now have kidnapped a business consultant who allegedly has some experience in flying model aircraft or UAVs, to assist in what you believe is an attack on the president; this same consultant, from what you’re saying, has left a number of clues that point towards this attack taking place in Oklahoma. Is that it?”

  Ruth didn’t answer; a portion of her mind was focussed on who might have called for her earlier, and what it might mean. The fact that the call had purportedly come from the London office could mean only one thing: somebody had made a connection to the very recently set-up New York office, and that person now knew where she was. The big questions were, who had called and why?

  She pushed it to one side and focussed once more on Agent Kraski. His tone of hostility was abundantly clear, but she couldn’t think what was causing it save for a huge dose of self-importance.

  “Look at the map,” suggested Vaslik. “It’s all there.”

  But Kraski ignored him. “May I ask what is your background for this, Miss Gonzales? Have you worked in counterterrorism before this?”

  “I was in the British army for a number of years and then in the Ministry of Defence Police,” Ruth said. “So yes, there’s been a strong element of counterterrorism work in what I’ve done. Is that a problem?”

  “Not for you, I don’t suppose.” Kraski’s voice was casual, almost dismissive. “But for me it certainly is. Do you know how many crazy, off-the-wall threats we hear about and investigate every week? Can you imagine how many man hours we would have to rack up if we took every apparent threat to its ultimate conclusion? So far you haven’t told me how these toys will be used. I’m no expert but even I know they don’t have much range or payload. Yet you say they’ll be flown at this target and somehow used as a weapon?”

  “Two-point-five kilos,” said Vaslik. “And they’re not toys.”

  “What?”

  “Two and a half kilos. The payload of the stolen drones. That’s over five pounds. And they have a range of nearly twenty miles and can fly at anything up to seventy miles per hour.”

  Kraski looked as if he had swallowed a bug. “So?”

  “Have you any idea what five pounds of C-4 going off twenty feet above your head would do?”

  The silence was intense, and Kraski looked embarrassed. As he and everybody else in the room knew, the concussive effects alone would be enormous, killing the closest and causing irreparable trauma to ears, eyes, and brains of many more.

  “You’re forgetting something, SAC Kraski,” said Walter Reiks with a polite bite. “While a Special Agent in several field offices with the Bureau, I handled a great many terrorist and serious organised crime threats. Based on the evidence I’ve seen so far, I consider this one to be real and imminent. This man Chadwick has disappeared, he was under surveillance by at least one individual with known extremist views, and the drones were stolen with the help of another man with the same extremist connections. Furthermore, Ms. Gonzales, Mr. Vaslik, and your own colleague here, Special Agent Brasher, were assured by the manufacturer that the drones are capable of dispersing powder or can be further modified to disperse a spray.” He prodded the air with his words. “A spray. That’s really not something I’d care to ignore.”

  Kraski flushed, although whether at the former FBI man’s quiet tone of reproof or his reminder that he had been a field agent of long standing wasn’t clear.

  “That’s as may be, Mr. Reiks, but I’ve seen stronger evidence of other threats than this that have turned out to be just as unimpressive. You and your colleagues are asking us to believe that this man Chadwick is embroiled in a threat against the president’s life. Well, on what you’ve just said and what Special Agent Brasher has told me, I can’t see it.”

  “But will you at least issue a warning to the president’s security detail?” Ruth asked. “Or better still, call off his visit?”

  “I most certainly will not. In these troubled times there is always a threat level on the president’s life, we’re aware of that. But if what you’re suggesting is that this inspection and talk should be cancelled, you can forget it. The president does not cancel his plans for anybody.” He stood up and threw a look at Brasher. “I’ll see you back at the office.”

  After Kraski had gone, Brasher lifted his hands in apology. “Look, I’m sorry. But we’re being run ragged at the moment and everybody’s trying to second-guess the next ‘event.’ Kraski’s been sent to us to help analyse the threat levels and likely seriousness of something being carried out, and he’s juggling balls just like everyone else.”

  “Balls is right,” said Ruth. “He couldn’t have dismissed it more openly if he’d tried.”

  Brasher nodded. “Look, I can’t openly help you if Kraski kicks this into the long grass, and I’ve already been assigned to a specialist task force that’s going to take me out of the game. But there’s no way I can let it go, either. What’s your next plan?”

  “It’s still the old plan,” Ruth replied. “We have to find James Chadwick.”

  “If he’s still alive.”

  “He is, I’m sure of it. If this thing is real, they need him. I can’t see them killing off the one person they think can help them carry out their attack.”

  “But would he do it?” said Reiks. “From what little I’ve read and heard, Chadwick strikes me as a straight-up guy. Helping with a terrorist attack would repel him, wouldn’t it?”

  “It depends how they colour it,” said Vaslik. “They either hide what they’re really planning behind some fancy corporate show-piece and get him to train their guy … or they go straight for the throat and threaten his family and friends. His apartment was trashed and a note left, but we don’t know if he ever saw those things. Not that it matters, if they have him already.”

  “Friends … You mean the DiPalma woman.” Brasher looked conflicted. “That would certainly be an incentive. But she and the family are beyond reach now, aren’t they?”

  Ruth nodded. “They won’t get to them—but Chadwick wouldn’t know that. If they’re holding him, which is what it looks like, as far as he’s concerned it’s a very real threat.”

  “Okay. Let’s assume this plan is real and they will do it—and the president is the target. I can advise the Secret Service that a threat is there, and that they should take all necessary precautions regarding this visit. But I can’t do much more myself because Kraski will be watching me.”

  “He’s an asshole,” Walter Reiks muttered. “Always has been.”

  “Then we’ll have to do it.” Ruth felt annoyed and helpless, but she wasn’t about to give up. There was too much riding on it. “We’ll have to find them.”

  Brasher looked startled. “How? You don’t know where they are.”

  “We can’t find Chadwick, that’s true. But we might be able to find where their launch site is.�
��

  “Jesus, how?”

  Vaslik was nodding. “If the drones have a range of about twenty miles, that’s got to be the perimeter around Altus. We need to look for the outer edge and work our way in. Wherever he is, it will be close enough to the base to see what happens, but somewhere quiet where nobody will think of looking.”

  Brasher nodded. “That’s a lot of open territory. However, I might be able to help you there. I know a guy out in Oklahoma City. He’s a former Agency pilot with his own helicopter and he’s dying of boredom. That will save you a lot of driving time.”

  “Fine.”

  He stood up and leaned over the map. “But why did Chadwick write Freedom on the map? If this guy is as focussed as you say, that must mean something. Is there a place called Freedom down there?”

  “There is,” said Vaslik. “It’s up by the county line with Kansas.”

  Brasher stabbed the map with his finger. “That must be over a hundred and fifty miles from Freedom to Altus. There’s no way these drones would cover that distance, even if the signals were good enough.”

  “Maybe that’s where they’ve been practising. It means we have to keep looking.”

  Brasher nodded. “Darned thing is, I can see Kraski’s viewpoint. From a purely evidential angle, it sounds crazy. I mean, how do they think they’ll accomplish anything with these drones? All we need to do is get the base to hold a turkey shoot and simply blow them out of the sky as they go over.”

  “There are two problems with that, one of which you said yourself,” Ruth reminded him.

  “Yeah? What’s that?”

  “One, they’ll be lucky if they even see them coming. A single drone has little more radar signature than a few birds. And they’ll be moving very fast.”

  “Great. And the other?”

  “We don’t know for sure what the weapon is, but would you really want a canister of toxic gas being blown out of the sky right over the base?”

  thirty-two