Seven Unholy Days (26 page)

52

3:15 PM CENTRAL DAYLIGHT TIME (LOCAL)

YELLOW CREEK

             
Abdul held his finger above the ENTER key, waiting for me to give him a GO. I gave it. We had the display back monitoring the systems with its big map and it was a cool thing to watch those fifteen states fade back up to the beauty of glowing green. The air that almost immediately started pouring from the air conditioning vents was even cooler. Celebration and back-slapping broke out, but it didn’t last long.

“Problem,” Abdul said, pointing at his monitor. I was hea
ded to his station to check it out when I saw Larry’s call signal flashing in the corner of the big display. I brought the videoconferencing feed back online and saw the smiling faces of Larry Bond. Keen Brandon was back, as well.

“We told our field offices in the Central region to let us know the instant they got power. Three emails have already come in,” Brandon said. “Nice job, Decker!”

“Ditto!” Larry said.

“Thanks, guys. Might want to hold up on the champagne, though,” I said.

“Meaning what?” Brandon said. Rather than try to explain it, I grabbed the little video camera and aimed it at Abdul’s monitor. The smile slid from Brandon’s face and I was sure I heard it hit the floor in Washington. On Abdul’s monitor was this:

I WARNED THEE NOT TO TAMPER

BUT THOU DIDST SPURN MY PLEA

BY THINE OWN HAND IS FOSTERED

THY TIME NOW CUT BY THREE

“I knew it, I knew it, I knew it. I told you this was a bad idea!” Brandon said.

“Give me a break, Brandon. Thirty seconds ago you were ready to dance a jig.”

“God only knows what this psychopath will do now. And it’s on your head, Decker!” Brandon stormed off and left Larry sitting there.

“Larry, I need to start studying this. Back in a few.”

“No problem.”

I put the riddle on the big display and turned to Tark. “Is this from Revelation?”

“No, it may have a King James flavor but that’s not from the Bible.”

“Abdul, is there any way the CEPOCS code you just loaded was vulnerable?”

“It was loaded from the virgin archive.”

If this was in the archive code, the pool of potential saboteurs had just narrowed way down. “This code has been stored in an ultra-secure data vault for months, accessed only for bug squashing, then meticulously examined by a verification program that checked it line by line before restoring the archive. The only people with access to that code at any level are you and the console person in each region. Abdul, that leaves you and your three counterparts around in the other regions.” I put it out there and let it hang. I didn’t want it to come across as pointing a finger at him specifically, because I liked the guy and I thought he was straight. Being a Middle Easterner, he had no doubt endured his share of dirty looks over the past few years, and it of course could have been one of the other three. Then again, Yellow Creek seemed to be an epicenter for trouble.

He turned slowly and looked at me. “Don’t forget, Matt Decker, that you too have always had access to the code at all levels. You did write it, no?”

“Yeah, I had access. But I guarantee you I didn’t do it.”

“And I know I did not.”

“I believe you, Abdul.” I really did. I think. It could have also been someone within my own company, but the chances of that were nil. My organization was small and tight, and I personally vetted each and every person and security process. Stringent was an understatement. “Tark, let’s go to the lounge and see what we can come up with.”

“You heard back on that email you sent him?” Tark said.

“No, looks like AC is too busy to talk to me.”

3:42 PM CENTRAL DAYLIGHT TIME (LOCAL)

Andrea was so excited she was out of breath. “Jana Fulton’s back on the phone!” I ran from the lounge to the control room and grabbed the first phone I came to.

“Jana, are you there?”

“Yes, who is this?”

“My name is Matt Decker. I’m here at Yellow Creek trying to help sort out the mess. Where are you?”

“Matt Decker, the famous computer guy?”

“Yes, tell us where you are.”

“I’m on a pay phone in Omaha. Just spent a week in hell capped off by a three-hour tractor ride. I can fill you in on all that later, but first you need to know that there’s—”

I heard scuffling and loud voices, then she was gone. I screamed her name over and over, but there was no answer.

“Damn!” I slammed the phone back into its cradle.

“Mr. Decker,” Andrea said, an uneasy look creeping across her face, “just before she called, I finally got through to Alpine Village.”

“And?”

She looked down, shifting her weight back and forth b
etween feet. “Your father’s bed was found empty about an hour ago.”

             
“Larry, we have to find Jana Fulton right now,” I shouted into the camera. “She has information we have to have, not to mention the fact that her life may still be in danger. We have our hands full here. I need you to get with Great American and get a trace on her call, and find her.”

“I’m on it, Matt.”

“Now, on my father—”

“I’ll also personally take care of getting agents dispatched on that. Work the riddle. I’ll work this, buddy.”

“Jesus Christ, will this nightmare never end,” I said as I clicked off.

“Sure it will, son. And you’re asking just the right person for help, too,” Tark said, puffing away on his pipe, some goofy look of satisfaction on his face. Bible-thumpers never quit. Just when you think they have, they pop back up in their little pu
lpits. Christians like Tarkleton are relentless, bloodhounds on a scented trail, going after their prey, chasing and chasing, wearing you down. “Tark, what’s your take on the riddle? Give me something.”

“I’m stumped, Matthew. I don’t suppose I could interest you in praying for guidance?”

It’s the same approach my father would’ve taken back in the day. “No, you cannot.”

“Okay, you work it your way. I’m going to the lounge to do just that.” Off he went.

“Abdul, how do you stand it, living in the Bible Belt?”

“It is no problem for me, Matt Decker. I too am a believer of Jesus the Christ.”

“You don’t say?”

“I have seen the light and it is good.”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I was surrounded.

3:44 PM CENTRAL DAYLIGHT TIME (LOCAL)

OMAHA, NEBRASKA

“Oh please, why won’t you people leave me alone?” Jana said as the shining young policeman held her upper arm. “I have important information! There’s a bomb!”

“I don’t know about that, lady, but what I do know is that your face is all over the place as a murder suspect and all-around bad girl. You’re under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say—”

“Save it, I’ve heard it all before. Don’t suppose you’ll let me finish my phone call before we go?”

“Don’t think so, ma’am. Let’s go.”

“Oh all right, whatever you say,” Jana said with a resigned smile and a bat of the eyes. She saw his shoulders drop ever so slightly as he took the bait and relaxed, even smiled back. He  reached behind his back to retrieve his handcuffs, still looking into her eyes. She thrust her hands forward in gentle surrender, tilted her head and turned the smile up a notch. His brightened, too.

In the space of a second, Jana had his gun out of its holster and pointed at him. Both smiles were gone. “I hate to do this, but I don’t have time for more games with the Omaha Police Department. Do you know where the FBI office is?”

“If you’ll give my gun back and cooperate, lady, I won’t mention this.”

“Don’t confuse reluctance with a lack of resolve, officer. I will shoot you. Do you understand?”

He nodded.

“Where is the FBI?”

“Over on Burt Street.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere. Let’s go.”

The officer got into the cruiser and Jana slipped into the pa
ssenger seat. “Can you make a phone call through your radio?”

  He started the engine and put the car into gear. “No.”

“Cell phone?”

“Not allowed on patrol.”

“Then drive like hell to Burt Street.”

4:04 PM CENTRAL DAYLIGHT TIME (LOCAL)

FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION

OMAHA DIVISION

Mercifully, the phone was working and the other end was ringing. The same woman she had talked to the day before answered. “This is Jana Fulton, put me back through to Mr. Decker. It’s urgent.”

“He walked outside a few minutes ago. Let me go see if I can find him.”

Jana closed her eyes and quietly pounded the desk while she waited. “Please hurry up,” she said over and over. She opened her eyes and looked around. The FBI office was a testimony to utilitarianism with its artless walls, flat gray carpet, and fluorescent lighting. Two minutes passed.

“Jana, are you still there?” the woman—Andrea, she b
elieved—said.

“Yes, what’s taking so long? This is an emergency to say the least. If you can’t find Mr. Decker, just put someone on the line who has some authority around there.”

“I found him. He’s on the way back in now.”

“Good.” Jana looked at the computer on the desk she was sitting at and noticed it had a thumbdrive plugged in the side, which made her remember the one in the pocket of Dane’s jac
ket. She reached for her pocket and remembered taking the camouflage jacket off. She left it draped over the back of the tractor seat, across town by the phone booth.

“Jana?” Decker’s voice on the phone startled her.

“Yes, thank heavens you’re there. Ya’ll need to get out of the building. There’s a bomb in there.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I saw it. Get out of there!”

“Can you tell me where it is?”

“Yes, it’s in the bottom of that big TV map thing in the main control room; it’s really fancy looking, like something out of a movie.”

“Okay, we’ll evacuate the building. Are you safe now?”

“Yes, I’m at the FBI office in Omaha.”

“Good. I’m sorry about Brett.”

“I appreciate it. Shouldn’t you be getting out of the building?”

“Very soon, but it’s past 2:16 so we’re probably safe and I have some important questions to ask you.”

“What’s 2:16 got to do with it?”

“I’ll explain later. How did you wind up in Nebraska?”

“I was kidnapped by a man named Dane Christian. I’m a little out of touch but his boss is behind the power outages and I think some other things.”

My heart pounded. “Who’s the boss?”

“His name is Abraham Hart, and he’s crazy as a betsy-bug.”

I was stunned. The “game” turned out to be a competitor with a grudge after all. “Can you tell us where he is now?”

“Don’t know. I escaped and haven’t seen him since and hope I never do again. Do you know about his place blowing up?”

“I’ve heard. Do you think he might have been inside?”

“Even if he was he probably wasn’t hurt. He has a spread way underground, calls it his ‘chambers.’”

“I see. Did you hear anything that might help us know what he’s planning next?”

“No, sorry.”

“Okay, thanks much, Jana. We’re going to evacuate this f
acility now but I’ll be in touch.”

Jana gave Decker the FBI office’s telephone number and hung up the phone. She had a feeling she was forgetting som
ething, but fatigue won out. She laid her head on the desk and was sound asleep within sixty seconds.

53

5:12 PM CENTRAL DAYLIGHT TIME (LOCAL)

YELLOW CREEK

             
I briefed Tark, Abdul, and Larry on Jana’s information and we bailed out of the complex and gathered at the front gate. The U.S. Marshals from Memphis showed up around five o’clock. I brought them up to speed, after which a debate ensued. “The witness says the bomb is very high-tech looking. Other than the explosives proper, a modern bomb is pure electronics and that happens to be something I know about,” I said to the leader of the three Marshals.

“Decker, we need to get a bomb squad in here on this. You’re not qualified—”

“I’m not waiting. We have to get that thing out of there so we can get back to work. We just got the power back on to fifteen states. If this facility is destroyed, those states will go back down and be down for an extended period. I can’t let that happen.”

“According to our information, you’re the only one who’s making any headway at tracking down the UNSUB. We can’t afford to lose you, Decker. I’ve been ordered to guarantee your safety and that’s hard to do if you’re playing with bombs.”

“I’m going in. Who’s going with me?”

The lead Marshal sighed. “I’ll go with you. No one else. P
eriod.”

“Good enough.”

Once we were back inside, the first thing I did was move our videoconferencing camera to a spot that had a clear shot of what we were doing. I turned around and faced it. “Larry, how’s the view?”

He raised a thumb and said, “Our top EOD specialist is on the way here from Quantico. They’re choppering him in so he’ll be here any minute. He says to remove just the door to the cab
inet it’s in, but don’t touch the bomb until he’s here.”

“Fair enough.” I wasn’t keen on getting involved with the bomb at all, but I was concerned it would take too long for E
xplosive Ordnance Disposal troops to get there and something had to be done. I also had a feeling the bomb was Hart’s version of an earthquake, the sixth seal. It would be set for two-sixteen, but that could be A.M. or P.M.

The Marshal stood a good fifteen feet away, content to watch me remove the cabinet panel from a distance. Who could blame him. With every turn of the screwdriver I questioned my own sanity a bit more. The air conditioning was working but a thin film of sweat formed on my forehead. I wiped it off after the last screw was out.

I carefully set the panel aside, and there it was. It looked to be fashioned from aircraft aluminum and was about four feet long, two feet tall, and a foot and a half or so deep. “Larry, you getting this?”

“Yeah, I got it, Matt. I also just got word that the EOD officer is in the building. Hold what you got.”

“Can do.” Two minutes later a man with a classic military look showed up on screen. Crisp uniform, upright posture, a face that looked to have been forged from steel. “Mr. Decker, Major Todd Thompson here.”

“Hello, Major. Tell me what to do.”

“The intelligent move is to stand down until I can get a contingent of EOD troops to your location.”

“Where’s the closest base?”

“There’s a Local EOD Control Center in Huntsville, Alabama.”

“How far is that?”

“Just over a hundred miles.”

“Only two hours by road. That might—”

“Actually, Mr. Decker, it will take them considerably longer to be on location.”

“Why?”

“A broken arrow was reported this afternoon and—”

“A nuclear accident?”

“Correct. A PNAF bird, that’s Primary Nuclear Air—”

“My company’s done a lot of work with the military so I’m somewhat familiar with the jargon. What happened?”

“We received a mayday transmission from a C-17 transporting B83’s to the Nuclear Underground Storage Complex at Kirtland. The locally assigned EOD team was overtasked on an unrelated exercise, so we deployed the Huntsville team.”

“And?”

“There was no C-17 and no mayday.”

“A decoy designed to get the Huntsville team away from this area. We’ve been had.”

“It would seem so.”

“Where are they now?”

“Washington.”

“How long to chopper them here from D.C.?”

“Not D.C., Mr. Decker. McChord in Washington state.”

“We can’t wait that long, Todd. We have work to do. I gua
rantee you that timer is set for two-sixteen Eastern time, but that could be A.M., just seven hours away. You can’t get your team here in time.”

“True.”

“We’re wasting time. What do I do?”

“First I need you to light the area. Do you have a light source you can place inside the cabinet?” A light source. He couldn’t just ask for a lamp.

“Yeah, hold on a sec.” I commandeered a little fluorescent banker’s lamp from Tark’s desk. After getting it into position I said, “Better?”

“Much. Thank you, Mr. Decker.”

“Todd, let’s drop the formality. Call me Matt. If I’m about to get blown up I’d rather it happen while I carried on a normal conversation.”

“No problem, sir. What I need you to do now is get the ca
mera and move it slowly all around the case.” I did that while he directed, part of which involved me actually crawling up inside the cabinet with the contraption. Sweat poured.

“Great,” the major said. “I don’t see any evidence of the d
evice being booby-trapped with regard to placement. Before we proceed, though, I want you to forget the camera and look very closely all around for any evidence of a wire connecting the device to the cabinet.” I did and didn’t see any. After I reported that to him he continued, “Now, inspect the bottom of the unit as closely as you can without actually touching it and certainly without moving it. What we’re trying to determine here is if the bottom of the casing itself might have some sort of pressure-sensing capability that would trigger the device if moved.”

Again, I did as I was told. “I don’t think so. The bottom of the unit looks to be one piece of extruded aluminum. No seams. No joints,” I said.

“Okay, do you have anyone there who can help you?”

“Help me do what?”

“Help you move the bomb outside the cabinet.”

I took a deep breath and looked up at the Marshal. He didn’t look brave like Matt Dillon or even cocky like Tommy Lee Jones. He looked scared out of his mind, but he did nod. “Yeah, I have help.”

“Very gently, slide the device out.”

We each grabbed an end of the casing, slid it out, and ever so tenderly picked it up and set it on the floor. “Excellent,” the m
ajor said. “Can you estimate its weight for me?”

“Forty to fifty pounds.”

“That’s outstanding.”

“How so?”

“If it were a thermonuclear device it would probably weigh more than that.”

“I see, Todd. It’s probably not a nuke, which means it’ll still blow the hell out of me and the Marshal here, but at least it won’t take out a fourth of Mississippi if it goes.”

“Oh, even if it was it wouldn’t be large enough to do damage beyond a mile or so, and I understand you’re in a fairly rural area.”

“Thanks, Todd. You’re very comforting. What now?”

“There’s not much we can do until we open it up. Standard protocol before doing that is to—”

Call it fatigue or insanity or whatever, but I had no interest in protocol. There were three latches on the front of the case and one on each side. I flipped the first one and saw the Marshal’s legs start trembling ever so slightly in my peripheral vision. “Mr. Decker, don’t do that!” the Major’s unflappable demeanor was flapping. I flipped the other four latches and raised the lid. Four or five big beads of sweat dropped down from my face o
nto the electronics inside. I couldn’t see Larry Bond but he was grinning. I knew it.

From my gadget-freak perspective, the unit’s interior was a thing of beauty. An apparatus took up two thirds of the space from left to right. It consisted of a sphere about half the size of a basketball. Its surface looked like sort of like polished alum
inum, the type you’d see handrails made from in a chic, contemporary opera house. In the center of the ball was a three-inch tunnel that went all the way through from left to right. Immediately to the right was a cylinder that looked like the core of the tunnel. On the right end of the cylinder was a black box that had a bundle of wires running into the electronic control section that took up the right side of the box.

“Can you get the camera closer, please” Major Johnson said.

“Sure, Todd.” I grabbed the camera and moved it all around for him.

“From here, Mr. Decker, it looks like the sphere definitely goes almost to the bottom of the case. Is that your perception by eye?”

“Yep, it does. In fact, it’s resting on a little foam cradle right in the bottom.”

“On the control mechanism, underneath its panel, is the left side closed off or is it open where you can see the wires running into it?”

“It’s open.”

“Roger. Can you describe what you see underneath that co
ntrol panel?”

“Couple of circuit boards. That’s it. I can see right to the bo
ttom of the case.”

“Very, very odd.”

“Explain.”

“We can see everything inside the case, and something cr
ucial is missing.”

“Please tell me what it is, Major. We’re sort of edgy around here these days.”

“There are no explosives.”

“Come again?”

“You’re looking right at the contents, Mr. Decker. There are no explosives in it.”

“But what about the ball?”

“Does the sphere look to be attached to anything?”

“Not really.”

“Pick it up.”

“You sure about that?”

“Quite sure, sir. Pick it up.” I grabbed it and it came right out of the case. I guessed it to weigh around thirty pounds.

“This device was made to look like a nuclear device, but it’s not one. “

“So it’s not really a bomb at all.”

“Exactly, sir.”

“Then what the hell is it?”

“I can’t immediately answer that, sir.”

“Todd?”

“Yes, Mr. Decker.”

“You’ve noticed it has a countdown timer here on the control panel, right?”

“Yes sir. I see it.”

“Have you noticed what’s rather strange about it?”

“Yes sir, I’ve noticed that and I’m sorry to say I cannot i
mmediately—”

“Okay, Todd. Over and out from Yellow Creek.”

“Good day, sir.”

I said goodbye to Larry and shut down the video feed. Then I looked at the countdown timer. It was six digits, arrayed in what could be seen as an hour-minute-second format, and counting down. But the odd thing is that it was moving too fast for a standard time countdown. I compared it to my watch. The digits on the right side of the countdown were moving exactly three times faster than my TAG was clicking off the seconds. Triple time. I stared at it for a moment, trying to figure out the significance of that. The riddle. Thy time now cut by three. I turned to the Marshal. “Go get the others right now, please.”