The Patriot Attack (24 page)

Northeastern Japan

T
he door slid open and Jon Smith watched it carefully. The procedure was the same as it had been every time before: a single guard standing with his back against the far wall of the corridor, one hand buried suggestively in his jacket. It was always the same man—stocky, rock hard, with a weathered face and dead eyes. Smith owed his life many times over to his gift for sizing up the competition, and this guy was one nasty piece of work. Almost certainly Special Forces, probably significant combat experience, and clearly serious about his job.

Smith expected—or more accurately hoped—that this was the beginning of another visit from the very conflicted Dr. Ito, but instead Masao Takahashi strode in. The door closed behind him and Smith bowed respectfully. Pretty much everything that could be used as a weapon had been removed from the room, and fashioning one out of the materials at hand was impossible with two cameras watching him.

“Colonel Smith,” the man said, taking a seat and sliding an Android tablet across the table. “I have something to show you that I think you’ll find interesting.”

Smith looked down at the tablet. It was split into four videos with touchscreen controls at the bottom. The top left feed depicted a table set up in the woods with camouflage screening above it. Two men were leaning over it, silently discussing something that appeared to be a map. The second feed showed a massive silver cylinder being worked on by a group of young people. A woman stood about ten yards from them, leaning against a tree and watching. The image was too small to make out facial features, but he knew the body language. Randi Russell.

The other two feeds were just shots of dense foliage. One of them had a few out-of-focus feathers in the foreground.

“The activity is just on the other side of the mountain this facility is built into. I’m told that the machine you’re looking at is a new kind of nuclear-powered tunneling system. It appears that Ms. Russell is wise enough not to mount a frontal assault and is instead going to try to come up on our flank. I have to admit that I admire her tenacity. And the machine itself is really quite ingenious.”

“But her plan isn’t going to work,” Smith said.

“No. And I can’t imagine she doesn’t know that. Ms. Russell has a duty to perform and she intends to do so to the best of her ability. I would expect no less from a woman of her reputation.”

“So you have the entire mountain wired with cameras?” Smith said, really just to stall. But for what? A sudden bolt of inspiration that would allow him to stroll out of there and warn Randi that her operation had been compromised?

“No, that wouldn’t be practical,” Takahashi said, tapping the tablet with a finger. “Actually, I think you’ll be quite intrigued by this technology. Your own military has put a great deal of money into small, stealthy surveillance drones. We did the same more than a decade ago but they’re frankly not a very good solution.”

“No?” Smith said, still desperately trying to calculate a way to stop what was starting to look inevitable.

Takahashi shook his head. “They’re not particularly stealthy, they’re difficult to land and maneuver, and they have very limited range. Birds, though, have none of those failings. When one of my people came to me with the idea of mounting fiber-optic cameras to birds of prey and controlling them with mild electric shocks, I have to admit I was skeptical. Twelve years later, though, we’ve turned it into an incredibly versatile battlefield surveillance platform. And better yet, even with training the animals, our costs are under three thousand US dollars per unit.”

“Impressive,” Smith said absently, unable to take his eyes off Randi. The woman was a witch when it came to recognizing that she was in danger. Yet there she was, completely oblivious. He tried to will her to look up but what good would it do? All she’d see was a goddamn bird perched in a tree.

“I have to admit that I’m not quite sure how to react to Ms. Russell’s efforts and thought I’d ask your advice. My assumption is that by now Keith Morrison has told your president that siding with the Chinese would be suicidal. But is he listening? Is what you’re looking at on that tablet a last, futile attempt to stop me? Or is it the first salvo in a full-scale attack by your country? Is Castilla willing to sacrifice the lives of millions of Americans in order to protect a country that every day becomes more of a threat to you and your standing in the world? From my perspective, that seems…insane.”

Smith stared down at the video feeds, trying to decide what to say. He’d had a great deal of time to think, and much of it had been spent on how the US would fare in a confrontation with Takahashi’s new military. The conclusion that he’d come to was that America would be decimated and the world would descend into chaos in the aftermath.

“President Castilla isn’t a stupid man and neither are the people advising him, General. Here’s what I can tell you. If Randi is involved, this is a very quiet, small-scale operation. Virtually no one knows about it and if it doesn’t work, no one ever will.”

“Then, in your opinion, your country will back down.”

“In my opinion, yes,” Smith said honestly. “There’s a big difference between sacrificing a handful of operatives and sacrificing three hundred and fifty million civilians.”

Takahashi leaned back in his chair and nodded thoughtfully. “Perhaps he just can’t face the idea that you are no longer the world’s preeminent power.”

“He’s a realist, General. We’ve known for decades that the era of wars between major powers was over. The destructive force of modern weapons is just too great. There would only be losers.”

Takahashi smiled thinly. “Until now.”

It was clear that he was referring to his nanoscale weapon and its ability to throw off the balance of power enough for him to get the upper hand.

“No, sir,” Smith said. “I believe the potential for blowback from your weapon goes well beyond anything we saw during the Cold War. And I suspect that if you ask Dr. Ito, he’ll tell you the same thing.”

“Scientists are never certain of anything, Colonel. They hedge, they equivocate, they overcomplicate. As a soldier, I expected more of you.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint, General, but I’m not just a scientist, I’m one of the world’s leading experts on the consequences of biowarfare. That’s basically what you’re doing here. You’re creating artificial life and weaponizing it. You won’t be able to control it, sir. I guarantee that. If you feel you have to attack China, do it. Nuke them. I imagine you’ve built quite an arsenal and have a way to deploy it that they’ll never see coming. But destroy Ito’s weapon and everything relating to it.”

Takahashi didn’t react other than to tap one of the feeds on the tablet. It depicted an empty meadow probably only twenty yards in diameter. Smith focused on it but wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be looking for. A moment later a projectile flashed into view at the top of the frame. Dirt and rock were thrown into the air when it impacted the ground and the dust clouded the image.

For a moment, he wasn’t sure what had happened, but then he noticed the broken metal parts strewn across the clearing: fins, a nose cone, broken chunks of a fuselage. It had been some kind of bomb, probably dropped from a high-altitude drone. But it hadn’t exploded. A dud? Had his side finally gotten a lucky break? Randi sure as hell couldn’t have missed that. She’d know that her operation was blown and get her people the hell out of there.

It didn’t take long to realize that he had fallen victim to wishful thinking. Tiny jets of flame became visible throughout the clearing and he stared down in silence as they began to take to the air.

Northeastern Japan

E
verybody get down!” Randi shouted, shoving the students off the digger as the low whistle from above grew louder. Max Wilson was standing frozen on top of the machine’s titanium shell, a bloom of colorful wires in one hand and a set of pliers in the other. She yanked his ankle, pulling his feet out from beneath him and following him to the ground.

The whistle was earsplitting now, and she had to shout to be heard. “Faces in the dirt! Hands on the backs of your heads!”

All but one complied, a panicked kid who barely looked eighteen. “Bruce! Get your ass—”

The impact was a hell of a lot closer than Randi had hoped. She buried her face in the grass and waited for the flames to wash over her, but nothing happened. After staying motionless for a full three-count, she pulled out her silenced Beretta and ran for the closest tree.

Eric Ivers appeared to her left, taking similar cover about ten yards away. He gave her an inquisitive look but all she could do was shrug. Vanya was a little farther ahead, moving methodically toward the impact site with an MP5 clutched in his hands.

“Reiji. Karen,” Randi said, activating her throat mike. “Are you all right?”

They’d returned from their supply run about an hour ago, and she had no idea where they were.

“We’re fine,” Karen responded after a few seconds. “Reiji and I are approaching from the south. Whatever it was, we think it landed in that little clearing where we first unloaded the digger.”

“Roger that. Vanya’s closing from the north and he’s about fifty meters out. Eric and I are covering him.”

“Understood.”

“Be careful, Karen. Remember that we aren’t sure what we’re dealing with here.”

Randi indicated that she was going to advance and Ivers gave her a nod before easing his Glock around the thick tree trunk. When she made it to cover, she waved him forward.

They continued to leapfrog like that, stopping every few seconds to listen to the silence and to see if they could make out anything through the trees. Vanya was nearing the edge of the clearing when Randi heard a quiet hissing that seemed to be originating just in front of him. It grew in volume as she poked her head around the tree, but the foliage was too dense for her to make out a source. What was visible, though, was some kind of artificial light flickering in the shadows.

She glanced over at Ivers, who knitted his brow and mouthed,
Bottle rockets?

The truth was, she had no idea. But she suspected it wasn’t going to turn out to be anything as benign as fireworks.

“Vanya,” she said into her throat mike. “Stop where you are. There’s something I don’t li—”

The Eastern European suddenly broke cover, dropping his rifle as he raced toward them at a full sprint. She held her gun out in front of her, searching over the sites for a target, but he seemed to be running from a ghost. A moment later, though, she saw them. A swarm of thin contrails overtaking him from behind.

“Vanya! Drop!” she screamed.

He did as she ordered, throwing himself headfirst over a fallen log. Instead of all of them passing harmlessly overhead, though, a few changed trajectory. One slammed into the log with enough force to split it in the middle. Four more hit her man, thudding sickeningly into his body and splattering the leaves above him with blood.

“Pull back!” Randi shouted. “Karen! Reiji! Do you hear me? Get the hell away from the clearing!”

She and Ivers ran, weaving through the trees with the hissing sound trailing them. The projectiles were clearly guided, but there was no way to know by what method. She broke left, hoping that she could lead them away from Wilson and his students. Ivers appeared to have the same idea and broke right, trying to confuse the tiny machines.

Randi dodged behind a tree and heard the crunch of wood as one of them impacted the trunk. She dared a look back and saw at least three more flying in a loose formation, all clearly locked onto her.

Breaking cover, she leaped over a large boulder. On the other side, the ground seemed to disappear from beneath her and she found herself cartwheeling down the steep side of the canyon.

Northeastern Japan

J
on Smith paced back and forth across the tiny room, feeling the overwhelming urge to throw something. Unfortunately he hadn’t been left with anything heavy or breakable enough to give him any satisfaction.

Takahashi had departed an hour ago and taken the tablet with him. Before he did, though, they’d watched one of Randi’s men go down and her disappear over a boulder. He couldn’t be certain what happened after that, but having had experience with those projectiles, he could guess. The only reason he was alive was that the ones attacking him had been programmed to stay within the confines of Genjiro Ueda’s house.

The door began sliding open and Smith moved quickly toward it, standing in a position where he could lunge through and snap Takahashi’s neck before the soldier knew what was happening. He had no illusions that it would do much to save Randi or prevent the coming world war, but at least he’d have some revenge before they put a bullet in his head.

Instead of Takahashi, the stooped figure of Hideki Ito appeared. Smith looked past the scientist at the man standing against the corridor wall. Still the same one—taking in everything with black eyes and a hand in his jacket. The distance was only five yards but it might as well have been a mile.

The door slid closed after Ito passed through, and he moved close to Smith. “We have to talk.”

“About what?”

Ito pointed to the cameras looking down on them. “I’ve initiated a software upgrade to our security system. The cameras are rebooting. We have seven and a half minutes.”

Smith looked up at a clock on the wall and took note of the time before stepping back to examine the man. He was sweating where his ravaged skin would allow, creating a glistening patchwork across his face. “You have my attention.”

“What I built was never meant as an offensive weapon. My expectation was that the general would publicly demonstrate its capabilities in some nonlethal way. That it would make us safe from our enemies and perhaps even be a positive contribution to society.”

“But instead he’s going to use it to exterminate the Chinese.”

“It’s…” Ito’s voice faltered. “Is
ironic
the correct word? My technology is useful because it can be carefully targeted. Certain materials, certain locations. We could destroy China’s entire military capability without harming a single human being. But he’s going to use it in a way that’s completely indiscriminate. He’ll kill everyone. Civilians, women. Even children.”

Was Ito just running on at the mouth to try to assuage his guilt or was he there to suggest some kind of action? Smith glanced up at the dead cameras, painfully aware that the clock was ticking.

“Can he be stopped?”

“The prime minister is flying to China today, and he’s ordered Takahashi to go with him. Both Sanetomi and President Yandong have made it clear that they will find a way to come to terms. That this situation will be de-escalated.”

“But Takahashi doesn’t want that.”

“No. He’s ordered me to finish making the weapons, and when I’m done he plans to deploy them.”

“I assume you’re here because you don’t want that blood on your hands, Doctor. Do you have a course of action in mind?”

Ito reached beneath his smock and pulled out a screwdriver made of what looked like carbon fiber.

Smith almost laughed when the scientist held it out to him. He’d hoped for something a bit more clever from the man who had cracked molecular manufacturing.

Ito obviously sensed his disappointment. “As I’m sure you’re aware from your investigation of Fukushima, we have sterilization protocols in place that are similar to what you use in your lab at Fort Detrick.”

“Radiation,” Smith said.

Ito gave a short nod.

“And as the lead researcher, do you have the ability to unilaterally initiate sterilization?”

“Yes. However, this is Takahashi’s facility. The procedure takes time to implement, and he has the ability to override.”

“Will he?”

“I guarantee it. I’ve seen how twisted the man has become. He will never allow his weapon to be destroyed.”

“So what are you proposing?”

“If we can access one of the server rooms, there is a chance that I can block his attempt to shut down the sterilization protocol.”

“Then why don’t you do it?”

“Because I don’t have access to those particular servers without his express permission.”

“And that’s where I come in.”

“Yes.”

Smith looked down at the screwdriver in the scientist’s hand. “There’s a problem with your plan.”

“What?”

“On my best day, I couldn’t close the distance to that guard before he gets his gun out. And believe me when I tell you that this isn’t my best day.”

“But we have to—”

“What we have to do is deal with reality, Doctor. I have a lot of ground to cover and the guard just has to move his gun a few inches. It’s not going to happen.”

Ito started to panic. “There’s no time! The cameras are going to come back online in only a few minutes. You have to help me!”

“Calm down, Doctor. I will help you, but there’s going to have to be a minor change in plan. When you leave here, does the guard follow you or do you follow him?”

Ito’s bloodshot eyes darted back and forth as he tried to remember. “He follows me.”

“Okay. Fine,” Smith said, trying to keep his tone soothing. “Do the guards wear body armor?”

“I don’t think so. No. I’ve never seen it.”

“Good. Then you’re going to walk out of here like you always do. And when you get close”—Smith touched a place on his upper stomach—“put that screwdriver right here.”

“What?” Ito said, eyes widening. “You want—”

“Listen to me!” Smith said, raising his voice enough to silence the man. “You need to drive it upward and to your right. Toward his heart.”

“But—”

“He has no reason to expect this,” Smith said. “But when you do it, he’s going to try to get his gun out and he’ll probably try to grab you. Stay right up against him. Be calm and don’t give him room to maneuver. In two seconds it’ll be over.”

“No,” Ito said. “I…I cannot do this.”

“You’re either going to have the figurative blood of millions of innocent people on your hands or the literal blood of one trained killer. As moral dilemmas go, that one seems pretty straightforward.”

“But…but I’m a scientist. An old man. What if he kills me?”

“Then all your worries will be over, won’t they?”

The scientist wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his lab coat and then, surprisingly, turned and pressed his hand against the palm reader next to the door.

His gait was a little too fast and stiff, but it didn’t matter. The guard’s eyes were locked on his American prisoner as they had been every time before.

Smith just stood there watching, calculating the odds that Ito would just keep on walking at about 99 percent. Again, though, the scientist surprised him.

He struck just as the door started to slide shut, pressing himself up against the man and pinning him to the wall. Smith rushed the door and grabbed its edge, but the mechanism was too powerful. The last thing he saw was the guard wrapping a hand around Ito’s fragile neck.

His heart was pounding far harder than it would have been if he’d taken the man himself, nearly audible in the silence that had descended on the room. There had been no gunshot, but what did that mean? Had Ito managed to hold on? Were the two men lying dead on the floor, one with a screwdriver beneath his rib cage and the other with a broken spine?

The door slid back again and Ito stood in front of it, his face frozen into a distorted mask.

“Well done,” Smith said as he brushed by the scientist and crouched next to the body. The screwdriver was still lodged in it and he retrieved the tool, wiping the blood off and stashing it in one of the pockets of the jumpsuit he’d been provided.

Unfortunately, there was no equally practical place to store the man’s Glock. In the end, Smith had to unzip the front of the jumpsuit and stuff it in the waistband of his boxer shorts. Not exactly at his fingertips but it would have to do.

“Dr. Ito,” he said, standing and putting a hand on the still-dazed scientist’s shoulder. “The server room. Where is it? We don’t have much time before the cameras come back online.”