Eden's Gate (33 page)

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Authors: David Hagberg

BOOK: Eden's Gate
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Speyer smiled at her. His decision was made about everything, and it gave him a great deal of satisfaction. “No, Gloria, what?”
“I don't think that there's a thing you can do about it now. I think that you're scared silly.”
Speyer went to her and took her arm before she could back away. “Let's go upstairs,” he said gently. “There's something I have to tell you, and then we're going to pack. We're leaving within the hour.”
“Where are we going?”
Speyer led her to the stairs and they went up to the master bedroom. He took the champagne glass from her and set it aside. Gloria had an uncertain look on her face. She had been playing a dangerous game over the past couple of years, goading her husband, but she couldn't help herself.
“I asked you a question, Helmut—” she said, when he punched her in the face with his fist, breaking her nose and jaw, and knocking her to the floor. There was no pain, just a flat, very dull feeling in her face and neck, and a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.
Without a word, or change of expression, he kicked her in the side just below her left armpit, next to her breast. This time the pain was immediate and immense, causing her to cry out with a muffled gasp.
He kicked her again, this time in her kidney. It felt as if her spine had been ripped out of her body. He stomped on her pelvis, she could feel the bones breaking, and on her stomach and chest, the pain mercifully fuzzing out with each blow.
She looked up at him, all of her hate and sarcasm gone. She felt a sense of wonder at how one human being could do something like this to another human being.
She saw the blunt toe of his boot coming toward the side of her head, but she couldn't do a thing to defend herself, and then the lights went out.
President Reasoner and his hastily assembled National Security Council were seated at the long table in the White House situation room. It had taken less than a half hour since the phone call from Lane to get them here and up to speed with the latest development.
“We know where they are, but the problem still exists: How do we handle it?” the president said.
“With all due respect to Mr. Lane, he's acted like a maverick through all of this,” National Security Agency Director Air Force Major General Thomas Roswell said. “He's ignored a lot of resources.”
“I agree with you, he's all but thumbed his nose at us. But he's the only one who's gotten any results. And he's
my
maverick. If he tells us to move with care because this madman may release the virus at the slightest hint that we're getting close, then that's exactly what we'll do.”
The president looked around the table. No one challenged him.
“How do we proceed?” he asked.
“Unfortunately we don't have a satellite in position, but we're going to have to throw a cordon around the farm and put a surveillance platform up,” Roswell said. “I would suggest an
Aurora
out of Kelley in Texas. We can have it up here in ninety minutes which includes prep and actual flying time.”
“Will Speyer's people be able to detect it?” the president asked.
“No, sir. It'll orbit the area at about one hundred fifty thousand feet. Even our Washington defense radars won't detect it. We'll get
real-time images downlinked, which should help level the playing field somewhat.”
“What about on the ground?”
FBI Director Dale McKeever spoke up first. “I think that whatever happens we have to make sure that they stay put up there. Worst comes to worst and Speyer actually releases some of the virus, it would hurt us a lot less in the relatively unpopulated Maryland countryside than here in the middle of Washington.”
It was the same thought everyone had had the moment they'd learned Speyer's location, but McKeever was the first to say it out loud.
The president looked around the table for a consensus. When he had it, he nodded. “Agreed. I'll order the Andrews ASSAF unit to move out immediately. We should have the area secured by the time the spy plane gets up here.” ASSAF was the All Services Special Armed Forces unit that had been created to combat the threat of terrorist acts on U.S. soil. Consisting of the crème de la crème of the special forces from each of the armed services branches, the unit was exquisitely trained, well equipped, and highly motivated.
“We have more than twenty-four hours,” the president's national security adviser Leslie Newby said, glancing at the clock. “Maybe Lane will find something tonight when he goes in.”
“Let's hope so,” the president said. “Without him a lot of people could lose their lives.”
“There has been a change in the mission plans,” Speyer told Sergeants Heide and Rudolph. They had come up to the farmhouse on his orders. Baumann was assembling the others outside and getting ready to pull out.
“Is there a problem, Herr
Kapitän
?” Heide asked. Of all the men here, he was the most anxious for the operation to come off.
“Yes, there is. Which is why I'm pushing the mission clock up. Is the aircraft ready, the spray tank loaded on the wing, and the release mechanism operational?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Very well. You and Sergeant Rudolph will remain here with the airplane until you receive radio orders from me, and only me. The rest of us will be moving out within the hour.”
“We will be undefended here, sir, except for the two of us,” Rudolph said.
“I understand that, but you won't be here for long,” Speyer told him. They went to the maps on the dining room table. “I will send either code blue or code red,” he said. He pointed to a small airport at Owings Mills just north of Baltimore. “If it's code blue, you will fly to Owings Mills where you will leave the aircraft. You can rent a car or arrange a ride to the Baltimore Airport where you will evacuate the area as planned.” He looked up. “If it's a code blue it means that you will not release the virus. Are you clear on this?”
Both sergeants nodded. “What if we get the code red?” Heide asked.
“The winds are expected to remain out of the southeast for the rest of today,” Speyer told them. He flipped to a large-scale map, this one showing only Washington and the area immediately around it as far out as the Beltway that completely circled the capital. “If it's red, you'll fly directly down to Falls Church and make your first pass over the city well north of the White House. You'll make your turn up here around Bladensburg, head south and start your last leg over the city so that you'll cross the river below the airport.”
Heide took his time studying the map, memorizing the landmarks. Any mistake could be fatal.
“The effects of the virus won't be immediate so you'll have plenty of time to complete the mission, fly back across the river ten miles south of Andrews Air Force Base, and then head north again.” Speyer pointed out the small town of Seabrook a few miles east of the interstate highway. “There's a grass strip you can use here. Someone will be waiting to pick you up and take you to Baltimore. By the time the first aches and pains and sniffles start in Washington, we'll be long gone.”
Both sergeants looked up. “What are the chances that this will develop into a code red?” Rudolph asked.
Speyer considered the question for a moment. “Good,” he said. “Very good.”
 
Lane, Frannie, and Hughes stopped at a coffee shop in West Friendship. If Speyer's people left the farm, they would probably come this way because it was closer to the interstate highway. Before they went in, Lane called the president.
“A special forces unit from Andrews will be in place within ninety minutes, about the same time that an Aurora from Texas will arrive,” the president said. “Has there been any movement out there?”
“Nothing yet, sir,” Lane said. “Just make sure that the field commander keeps his people out of sight.”
“The ball is in your court for now, Bill. But unless you come up with something tonight, I'm ordering the ASSAF unit to take Speyer's people by force.”
“I understand, Mr. President. We'll do our best.”
Marine Major Jim Heinzman sat in the operations room watching the president finish his briefing on the closed circuit encrypted television link with the White House situation room. The Air Defense Command's 7777 Support Squadron, the “Lucky Sevens,” had been given the heads-up on the developing situation twenty-four hours ago, so the president's message was not unexpected. What was coming as a nasty surprise, however, was the order that effectively tied their hands.
“Your people have to be put into place around the farm without disturbing so much as a mosquito,” the president said. “If you are discovered, it's likely that Speyer will pull the plug. If that happens there will be casualties. Do you understand, Major?”
“Yes, Mr. President,” Heinzman replied. He glanced at the others around the table, all of them his superior officers. They weren't going to like what he was about to say, but it was his life, and the lives of his men, at risk. “You're telling me, sir, that if we're ordered to go in and take the farm by force, that whatever else you have in place will have failed and we'll be doing our jobs not to eliminate casualties, but to minimize them. We will be expendable.”
The president smile wryly. The circuit was two-way so he caught the angry reactions of the officers around the table. He held up his hand. “We can hardly fault an officer for telling the truth,” he said. “The briefing book will be in your hands within ten minutes, Major. I want you up there in place by nine-thirty; that gives you about ninety minutes. Can you make it that soon considering your … restrictions?”
“Yes, sir. How soon can we expect the downlink from the Aurora? It would be a big help to have those pictures before we get close.”
The president said something to someone off screen. “The Aurora will be airborne in just a few minutes. It should be over the farm in less than an hour.”
“Very well, sir. We're on it.”
“Good luck, Major.”
“Thank you, Mr. President. In this situation I think we'll need it.”
Baumann had finished briefing the men and checking out their civilian papers and travel documents in the great room at the back of the house when Speyer came in.
“Are we ready to leave? Papers in order, everyone clear on his orders and rendezvous point?”
“Yes, sir,” Baumann said. Some of the men seemed disappointed.
“This element of the mission has been pushed forward not because of any mistakes that you have made,” Speyer told them. “On the contrary, it is because of your training and skills that we're getting out of here early and without firing a single shot.”
The younger men grinned, but a couple of the older ones looked skeptical.
“Your job now is simply to get out of here without being caught. The rest of the mission will go according to schedule, of course.”
“What about when we get to Havana, Herr
Kapitän
?” one of the men asked.
“You will be met at Jose Marti Airport with sealed orders. They will speak for themselves.” Once he was set up down there, he would need these men and eventually others as bodyguards. Cuba, despite Castro's propaganda to the contrary, was a dangerous place.
“Are you coming with us, sir?” another man asked.
“We'll be right behind you,” Speyer assured him. He went to each man, clicked his heels at attention, saluted and then shook hands.
 
Speyer had left Heide and Rudolph to study the Washington map back in the dining room. They looked up when he came in.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” Heide said. “What about Washington's air defenses?”
“You'll be in a light plane, flying VFR at one thousand feet above the city, all legal and normal. They aren't expecting the attack until tomorrow night at the earliest. If it's a code red, we'll take them completely by surprise this morning.”
Rudolph started to say something, but then he hesitated.
“What is it, Sergeant?” Speyer asked.
“If it's to be code red, Herr
Kapitän
, a great many people will die.”
“That's correct,” Speyer said, his irritation rising. “What is your point?”
“Why, sir?”
“Because the American government would have disregarded my instructions.”
“No, sir, I mean why was the attack planned in the first place? The United States isn't our enemy.”
Speyer nodded his understanding, keeping his anger in check. “They have been our enemy for sixty years,” he said. “It's something that you should not forget.” He gave Rudolph a hard look. “As for the attack, you may think of it as a demonstration. At the end of the war, Harry Truman had a choice to make with the atomic bomb. He could demonstrate it on an uninhabited island somewhere, or he could demonstrate it over a couple of Japanese cities. He chose the latter, and because of that choice no one on earth has ever doubted the reality or the power of nuclear weapons. We may do the same with our weapon.”
“All we have to do is obey orders,” Heide said. “Nothing could be easier.”
Rudolph gave Heide an uneasy glance, but then he nodded. “We will follow our orders, Herr
Kapitän
.”
“Good,” Speyer said. “Change into civilian clothes now, and meet me in the barn in five minutes.”
“Yes, sir,” they said.
 
Baumann was supervising the men's departure when Speyer came out of the house. They were taking both minivans and two of the three SUVs. The third was parked in back of the house.
Baumann broke off and came over. “They're ready.”
“Have all the airline reservations been changed without problems?” Speyer asked.
“No problems whatever.”
“Send them off, then. I'll be finished in about ten minutes and we can get out of here.” Speyer glanced back at the house. “Have you taken care of the extra tank?”
“It's going with our scuba equipment.”
Speyer grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. “We're almost home free, Ernst. Just a little longer now.” He turned and headed down to the barn.
The convoy was starting up when he entered the barn. He went immediately to a secret hiding place in a far, dark corner, and pulled
out a bundle about the size of a carton of cigarettes from beneath a pile of debris. He went back to the agplane, where he stuffed the package completely out of sight behind the backseat. In order for somebody to find it, they would have to reach back and deliberately search for it. Short of that, they would have to unbolt the seat from the floor and remove it from the airplane.
He climbed out of the airplane and as he stepped back he reached inside a pocket, his fingers brushing the remote control detonator unit. When he pushed the button, the brick of Semtex plastic explosive he'd placed behind the rear seat would explode in thirty minutes. He would push the button the moment the agplane appeared above the treetops on its way down to Washington. Thirty minutes was plenty of time to complete the mission. Then, somewhere southeast of Washington, probably somewhere near Andrews Air Force Base, the plane would suffer a tragic malfunction and explode in mid air.
“
Alles ist in ordnung
,” Speyer said to himself.

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