Nuclear Survival: Western Strength (Book 1): Bear The Brunt

by Tate, Harley

  Keith felt Lainey’s stare, but he didn’t turn toward her. Agent Perkins turned to close the door and his jacket gaped to reveal a holstered pistol. Probably not an accident. They would need to tread carefully through the entire meeting.

  Agent Perkins perched on the edge of the desk. “Agent Baxter tells me you have evidence of a terrorist plot. Something about nuclear weapons, is that right?”

  Lainey nodded. “That’s right.”

  “Care to elaborate?”

  “I was hoping you could give me information first. Something I could broadcast on the eleven o’clock news. Our viewers are frantic for more information.”

  The agent smiled like she was a stubborn child. “Ms. Sinclair, any intel we have at this point is classified.” He leaned closer. “Now about that tip.”

  She splayed her fingers out across the tabletop. “The information appeared in a chat room.”

  “Where?”

  “The dark web.”

  “Who posted it?”

  “Confidential.”

  “Ms. Sinclair, you came to us. If you didn’t want the FBI to know the details of your information, why did you wait for over an hour to speak to someone?”

  Keith slipped his feet off the table and they landed with a thud on the floor. “She’s not required to divulge her source and you know it. Reporter privilege.”

  The agent didn’t take his eyes off Lainey. “Did your source demand confidentiality?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then what can you tell me?”

  Lainey pressed her lips together and collected her thoughts before answering. “What I told Agent Baxter. Twenty-five bombs targeting the top twenty-five metropolitan areas in the United States.”

  “When?”

  “I don’t know, but the bombs are already here.”

  “Size?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Type?”

  “I don’t know that, either.”

  “Timing?”

  Lainey shrugged. “That’s all I know. A guy posted about it in a chat, my source talked to him, and that’s it. That’s all I’ve got.”

  The agent stood and made a show of leaning across the desk. His hands landed within inches of Lainey’s. “Stop playing games, Ms. Sinclair. We need the source.”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  “We have ways of making you.”

  Keith tensed, about to jump in and defend Lainey’s honor, but he needn’t have bothered. As soon as Agent Perkins parried the threat, Lainey’s instincts flared. She leaned close enough for him to smell her breath. “Are you threatening me, Agent Perkins? I’m a United States citizen. I’m a television reporter for KSBF. Are you sure you want to go down this road?”

  She pushed against the table as she stood up, matching the agent’s stance. “I can be on television in an hour broadcasting about a coverup in the federal government.”

  Keith didn’t move. The FBI agent and Lainey stared each other down in silence, neither willing to give an inch. At last, Perkins blinked. He leaned back and smoothed his tie. “I wouldn’t go around spouting accusations you can’t prove.”

  Lainey eased back down into her chair and crossed her legs. “If I agree to tell you the source, will you answer a few questions?”

  Keith jerked his head. She couldn’t possibly mean her sister. Lainey wouldn’t hand Midge over to the feds for a chance at a story, would she?

  Agent Perkins lifted an eyebrow. “What kind of information are you looking for?”

  “Has the FBI heard about this threat? Are Americans at further risk? Should we be evacuating?”

  As soon as Lainey rattled off the questions, the agent’s demeanor changed. Gone was the hint of cooperation and curiosity, replaced by government brick wall. “I cannot confirm or deny the existence of any active investigations.”

  Lainey rolled her eyes and reached for her bag. “Then you can’t have my source.”

  The agent drew in a breath, the first hint of frustration leaking through his tough-guy exterior. “Ms. Sinclair, I can get a warrant.”

  She chortled. “On a Friday past ten at night when half the country is devolving into chaos? Go ahead and try.”

  Keith reached for his bag. “If there’s nothing else, I think we’re done here, right?”

  Lainey nodded. “We sure are.” She flashed a tight smile as she stood. “Agent Perkins. I wish I could say it was a pleasure.”

  “This conversation isn’t over.”

  Lainey cocked her head. “Unless you’re changing your mind and giving me something useful, it most certainly is.”

  The agent reached for his belt.

  Keith rushed to stand. “Is there something else, Agent Perkins?”

  After a moment, the agent relaxed. “No. You’re free to go.”

  Lainey tucked her bag beneath her arm. “I certainly hope so, since all we’ve done is provide the FBI with information.” She strode around the table toward the door. “If you change your mind, our viewers would love any information you can provide. On or off the record.” She smiled up at Agent Perkins and waited for him to open the door.

  He complied with a frown and Lainey ducked into the hall. Keith followed her out. They walked in silence, escorted by Agent Perkins all the way past reception to the elevators. Neither said a word as they left the building, crossed the parking lot, and unlocked the doors to the KSBF van.

  As Keith pulled the door shut to the driver’s side, he let out a trapped breath. “For a moment there, I thought you were going to give up your sister.”

  “Midge? Never. I was just yanking his chain. As soon as he walked in, I knew they weren’t going to give us anything.”

  “You did?”

  Lainey leaned against the headrest, exhaustion dampening her smile. “No one with a stick shoved that far up his you-know-what will give a reporter the time of day.”

  Keith laughed and the tension from the entire experience inside the Federal Building eased. He shouldn’t have doubted Lainey’s skill as a reporter or her drive to protect her sister. “Think we’re on a watch list now?”

  “Definitely.” Lainey pushed her hair off her face and exhaled. “So now what? We’re no closer to finding anything out, it’s after ten, and I don’t have a clue where to go next.” She sagged against the seat. “What a reporter.”

  Keith pulled out his phone. No response from Daphne, but the library didn’t close for another half hour. If traffic had eased at all, they should be able to make it before closing. He stuck the key in the ignition and cranked it. “I know someone who can help if she’ll talk to me.”

  He put the van in reverse and backed out of the space, ignoring Lainey’s pointed stare. “It’s a drive. You okay with that?”

  Lainey buckled her seatbelt and turned toward the road. “As long as we’re not hopping back on those scooters, I’m okay with anything.”

  Keith pressed the gas pedal down as he merged onto the road. It was his turn to sweet talk someone. He hoped he’d have better luck than Lainey did.

  Chapter Eleven

  LAINEY

  En Route to UCLA Library

  Los Angeles, California

  Friday, 10:45 p.m. PST

  They barreled down the road, past stuccoed walls teaming with flowering vines and rows of mature trees. The mansions of Sunset Boulevard glowed behind their everyday barricades, glimmering reminders of the wealth of so many in LA. Thanks to the FBI’s complete and total waste of their time, traffic had eased. Keith turned onto the picturesque UCLA campus and parked the van on the top of a deck.

  “This is the closest we can get the van. We’ll have to walk from here.”

  “Where are we going?” They’d been quiet for most of the drive, each retreating into their own thoughts as they battled exhaustion and worry. Lainey squinted into the night. “Everything’s got to be closed by now.”

  Keith reached for the door handle. “Library doesn’t close until eleven. Come on. We need to make it befor
e they lock the doors.”

  Lainey tumbled out of the van, hair messed from sweat and delay, dress wrinkled and in need of a thorough dry cleaning. She shoved her tote bag over her shoulder and double-timed to keep up with Keith’s oversized strides. A footpath led from the parking deck to a brick-and-stucco campus building. Lainey followed Keith around the side, beneath towering maples and birches, to a bank of glass doors.

  As Keith tugged one open, a chime rang out. “The library will be closing in five minutes. Please take all materials to the front desk for checkout.”

  A handful of students collected books and backpacks off large communal tables in the center of the space while a single employee stood at the circulation desk, scanning barcodes and student IDs.

  Keith hesitated. “This might be a bit awkward.”

  “O–kay.” Lainey drew out the word, unsure what Keith’s definition of awkward entailed.

  “We should wait until everyone’s done checking out. That way she can’t blow me off.”

  Lainey raised an eyebrow but said nothing. The woman behind the counter couldn’t have been older than twenty-three, clad head to toe in athletic gear which showcased toned muscles and tanned skin. With big brown eyes and pert little nose, she could have been a model. Lainey swallowed as Keith motioned her forward.

  He stopped in front of the desk. “Hey, Daphne.”

  The woman’s eyes flicked up, followed by her mouth falling open. “Keith? What the—?” Her head swiveled. “You can’t be here. I—I—” She opened and closed her mouth, unable to spit out any words.

  “It’s not what you think.”

  “Right. And you’re the first guy who couldn’t handle a breakup.” She hoisted up a stack of books and thumped them onto a rolling cart. “Most don’t hunt me down the same day though, so I guess you get points for that.”

  Lainey blinked. Breakup? That day? Were they at the library so Keith could win her back? She turned toward the exit as Keith wrapped his hand around her arm. “This is Lainey Sinclair. She’s a reporter for KSBF. Lainey, this is Daphne Trotter.”

  Oh, no. Was this some kind of setup? He wouldn’t use her to get back at his ex when the world was about to fall apart, would he? No. Keith wasn’t like that. He—

  “You don’t look like a TV reporter.”

  Lainey’s runaway thoughts slammed into Daphne’s insult and she turned to the younger woman. She channeled her best I-hate-you-too smile. “It’s been a long day. Investigative journalism isn’t glamorous.”

  Daphne stared a moment longer before turning to Keith. “What’s this about? I’m supposed to be closing.” Her hands rested on her hips, manicured nails drumming a beat against her flat abs.

  “Lainey’s come into some information and we need your help to track down a source.”

  She cocked her head. “I’m a librarian, not a researcher.”

  “I know, but you have access to every newspaper, right? And UCLA’s search engine.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I suppose. But isn’t that what a reporter is supposed to do?” Daphne cut a glance at Lainey. “Why drag me into this?”

  Lainey wondered the same thing. How a girl barely out of college working the front desk of a library could help them, Lainey hadn’t a clue.

  Keith dropped his backpack to the ground and leaned on the counter, forearms thick on the glass. “Lainey’s uncovered evidence of a terrorist attack. Nuclear bombs. We need your help to track down anyone else who may be on to the story.”

  She snorted. “Right. And I’m quitting my job to drive an RV all over Mexico.” She made a sign of a heart over her own. “Van life.”

  “Daphne.”

  She reached for the rolling cart and pulled it toward her, ignoring Keith’s tone. “This has to be the weirdest way anyone’s tried to win me back, that’s for sure.”

  Keith pulled back and slammed his hands on the counter. The entire circulation area shook. “That’s not what this is.”

  “It isn’t?” Daphne’s words came out in squeaky, high-pitched syllables.

  “No.” He leaned closer. “Help us find a source.”

  Daphne glanced at Lainey before she turned back to Keith. “You’re serious? There’s really a bomb threat?” She swallowed. “Okay.” She slid over to the nearest computer and her fingers flew across the keyboard. “Tell me what to look for.”

  Keith nudged Lainey and she stammered. “Um, uh, nuclear bombs. Twenty-five targeting the largest US cities.” She rattled off the rest of the information Midge provided that morning as Daphne typed.

  “I’m searching all periodicals, print and electronic. If anyone’s written about it, I’ll find it.”

  “How long will it take?”

  “A few minutes. The search engine’s comprehensive, but slow.” Daphne stuck a perfect nail between her teeth and dug her canine into the polish. “I heard about the blackout, but this is something else, right?”

  “It might be related. We don’t know.”

  Lainey doubted Daphne would have any more success than she did, but it had been a few hours. Maybe the magic of a librarian search engine would surprise them all. Her brows knit as she turned to stare out at the rest of the facility. Rows and rows of shelves filled the space. Thousands of books.

  She turned back to Daphne. “Would the library have any general information on nuclear bombs? Damage, radiation, that sort of thing?”

  “We should. We have extensive historical and medical collections.” Daphne slid over to a second computer. “I can run a search, point you to what we have housed in this building.” A moment later, the printer spit out a single page. Daphne held it out to Keith. “Looks like two main locations. Fourth floor for historical texts and the basement for medical.”

  Keith shoved the paper in Lainey’s direction. “I can’t find bills I’ve filed myself. There’s no way I’ll be able to find a book in all these shelves by a call number.”

  Lainey frowned. Leaving Keith and Daphne to hunt down possible sources rankled her. She was the reporter; it should be her job to find the information, not Keith and his brand-new ex. She tightened her grip on the paper, wrinkling the first listing.

  Is that my problem? I’m jealous? Lainey shook it off and smiled at Keith, hoping it came across genuine. “I won’t be long.”

  Twenty minutes later, Lainey stood in front of a sea of books, frustrated and mad at herself. I should have found something by now. Although Daphne helped by directing her to the fourth floor, it took four times as long as Lainey expected to find the right section. Now she stood in front of hundreds of books chronicling the devastation of World War II.

  She pulled out the first one she found with a title referencing nuclear weapons and flipped to a random page. A diagram compared the strength of the bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki with current technology. Another diagram overlaid the expected damage radius on top of New York City and Los Angeles.

  Lainey gasped. A bomb the size of Hiroshima would obliterate the heart of downtown. Assuming the Federal Building sat near the center, Hollywood would be destroyed. Beverly Hills, too. All the history. All the people.

  She flipped the pages. Charts listing health effects from radiation exposure. Burns. Hair loss. Vomiting. Death. Lainey eased down to the floor as her knees threatened to buckle. It was so much worse than she’d feared. Even if they escaped the force of the blast, millions of Los Angeles residents would be exposed to lethal levels of radiation.

  The book recommended bomb shelters deep underground with concrete walls and steel doors. Lainey stared out over the open atrium and the multiple floors of books and empty tables. How many buildings in Los Angeles even had basements?

  Earthquakes were a real threat and most people built on slabs to prevent complete collapse in the event of a sizable tremor. Did UCLA have a bomb shelter? Could it be here in the building? She thought about Daphne’s offhand comment about the basement. Maybe it would be safe. Maybe they could hide there.

  Lainey flipped th
e pages. Seventy-two hours for the worst of the radiation to dissipate. Two weeks for it to reduce to safe levels. How could anyone hide in a basement for two weeks?

  The only rational choice was escape. Outrunning the radiation plume and reaching somewhere far enough away to be spared. She flipped another page as the library plunged into darkness. She stifled a scream. It’s probably on an automatic timer. Nothing to worry about. Lainey checked her phone. Midnight exactly.

  She closed the book and used the light of her phone to find the stairs. It took a few minutes of searching, but she reached the circulation desk. Daphne and Keith were hunched over a computer, heads bent together. Their faces glowed from the artificial light.

  “Find anything?” Keith didn’t look up.

  Lainey waggled the book. “This one has all the information to terrify us and then some.”

  Daphne held out her hand. “I can check it out under my ID. Just make sure you bring it back on time, all right? I’ll have to pay the list price to replace it if you don’t.”

  If a bomb detonated in LA, no one would care about an overdue library book, but Lainey kept the thought to herself. She handed the book over and Daphne scanned it. “Sorry about the lights. Everything goes to minimal power at midnight.”

  “Did you all find any info?”

  Keith nodded. “You’re not the only one talking about bombs.”

  A knot twisted in Lainey’s stomach. “I’m not?”

  “Nope. And you’ll never believe who’s running with it.”

  Chapter Twelve

  LAINEY

  Outside UCLA Library

  Los Angeles, California

  Saturday, 12:30 a.m. PST

  “Crystal MacKinnon? You have got to be kidding me.” Lainey flopped back against the van seat and crossed her arms. “She couldn’t report her way out of a paper bag.”

  “That’s not what the LA Times thinks, apparently.”

  Pfft. LA Times. “Maybe they haven’t caught on yet. How long’s she been there?”