“They’re armed?”
“Yes. It would be a suicide mission.”
“Not many would do that.”
“I bet you’re wrong about that.”
“I can’t order civilians to commit suicide.”
“Then get me a news chopper to take me to New Albany. If I can’t find the drones before they launch, I’ll have the pilot drop me into their path. I guarantee you I’ll stop those things.”
“Hopefully it won’t come to that.”
“I hope not. We know Decker either bought or leased some land in New Albany. My guys are searching property records. If we find it soon, I might be able to prevent the attack.”
“I’ll get you a chopper.”
6.
Ryan Decker.
THUNDER OVER LOUISVILLE lures up to 800,000 spectators to the banks of the Ohio River. If Decker could fly his birds at night, he could kill 5,000 of them and wound many more. But he can’t fly them at night.
Can’t fly them anywhere, for that matter, since the damn things are broken.
They worked during the initial run, two months ago, for a very short flight. Think Wright brothers, at Kitty Hawk.
But in the second effort, for reasons Decker can’t explain, four of the craft veered sharply into the others with disastrous results. The effort to rebuild and retest proved too substantial for Decker’s time and financial resources, so he focused his attention on a two-stage bombing process that involves firing a thermobaric warhead into a mushroom cloud of conventional explosive laced with aluminum powder. The destruction of Jack’s house in Willow Lake offered a glimpse into the destructive power Decker possesses.
He put the word out among jihadists, revolutionaries, and insurgents throughout the world that his drones were working perfectly, and he possessed the munitions and technical ability to deliver a lethal strike.
And the money poured in.
Decker figured Creed’s people would eventually hear about it, and he’d be able to use the drone rumor as a diversion. When they didn’t, he decided to put things in Callie’s hands.
And she delivered.
Decker didn’t want to rat Callie out by sending the video to Creed, but if he hadn’t followed through on his threat, she’d be suspicious. And Decker needs them to be concerned about a drone strike.
He laughs, thinking about the dozen teenagers he hired to stand on top of buildings in downtown New Albany today. And how eight of his men are positioned on two speedboats in the Ohio River, anchored a scant 100 yards from the riverfront crowd that has gathered to watch tonight’s fireworks program. They’re just two boats among hundreds that’ll stay all evening until the fireworks spectacular ends around 9:45.
At 9:15, when the fireworks begins, all eyes will be up, focused on the display.
What a perfect time for his men to break out their shoulder-fired rocket launchers and begin shooting randomly into the crowd! If five shells can bring down a multi-million dollar mansion, imagine what sixteen shells can do to a throng of wall-to-wall people who won’t even hear the shots fired because of the fireworks!
Each man will fire two missiles before the speed boat pilots race upriver to the Westport landing, where four cars will be parked, with engines running, guarded by a fifth car. The boats will run right up onto the landing, and Decker’s men will jump into the cars and drive away at normal speed and blend into the night.
Decker won’t be there to witness the attack.
He’s in Gamble County, Missouri, waiting to launch a rocket into the mushroom cloud that’s about to appear above the Gamble County Art Show and Bean Festival.
Every year more than 40,000 visitors make the trek to the area of Gamble County where two old highways converge. Since the nearest hospital is 35 miles away, the festival area is virtually isolated from medical care.
This was no coincidence. Decker chose this particular venue because a big part of the human drama will be provided by the multitude of bloody victims who could have been saved had there been proper medical care. But county officials, using past festivals as their guide, decided two medical vans would be sufficient to care for those who might overeat, drink, or suffer dizzy spells from getting too much heat.
Decker searches the sky till he sees his pilot. He waits for the drop, then the explosion, then the mushroom cloud. He fires his missile into the cloud even as 40,000 dazzled visitors are oohing and awing at what they consider to be part of the festivities.
He’d love to witness the carnage first hand, but that would be stupid. And anyway, he can see it on TV from a safe place later tonight. He ditches the rocket launcher and begins the long drive to Salina, Kansas, where he’ll meet Jill, who insisted on being there when he kills her husband, Bobby DiPiese.
7.
Donovan Creed.
I’VE NEVER BEEN to Thunder over Louisville, or I would’ve known about the hundreds of boats I now see beneath me on the river. I’m hovering above the downtown bridge that serves as the focal point of the fireworks display scheduled to take place hours from now.
Captain Chaz, my helicopter pilot, senses my concern.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“Who searches those boats and the people on them?”
He looks down at them and says, “No one, far as I know. But I’m sure the Coast Guard keeps an eye out, in case someone’s drinking, or tossing trash in the river.”
“You’ve got hundreds of boats anchored between two riverbanks.”
“So?”
“Each riverbank has hundreds of thousands of spectators.”
“It’s always been that way. What’s your point?”
“The boats are within rifle range of both river banks.”
He looks down again and says, “Holy shit!”
I try to call Sherm, but he doesn’t answer, so I press a button on my cell phone and watch Chaz’s eyes grow huge when I say, “Mr. President? Sorry to call, but I’m on a Sky News 80 helicopter, and I’ve identified a huge security risk.”
“Does it involve our current concern?”
“Not directly.”
“Then I’d say don’t allow yourself to get distracted.”
“I can’t ignore it. There are hundreds of boats within rifle distance of both riverbanks. One boat crew with automatic weapons could bring down thousands of spectators.”
He sighs. “I hate talking to you, Creed. Every time I do I lie awake at night, worried about how much damage you could do to our country if you ever flipped. What’s your recommendation with regard to the boats?”
“Have the Coast Guard send them home.”
He sighs again. “Telling those boaters to clear out would be like shutting down a UK-UL basketball game at halftime.”
“I have no idea what you’re trying to say.”
“It would cause a riot.”
“Mr. President, when having access to a boat is the only qualification required to anchor within shooting distance of a hundred thousand people, a riot is perfectly acceptable.”
“What if I ask the Coast Guard to conduct a thorough search of the boats?”
“Poor substitute.”
“Why?”
“There are hundreds of boats and only a few Coast Guard vessels. And more boats are heading toward the area by the minute. Dozens could slip in while the Guard is busy conducting searches.”
“Can boats get to the area from both directions?”
“No sir. There are locks to the west.”
“These are mostly small boats, correct?”
“Yes sir. But most are cabin cruisers.”
“We’ll place one Coast Guard vessel east of the crowd to cordon off the area. Meanwhile, the remaining vessels can conduct a boat-by-boat search. Would that satisfy you?”
“Yes. But make sure the Coast Guard flashes their lights and announces their intentions by radio and megaphones.”
“Why?”
“Because if someone’s got weapons on board, they’ll try to escap
e.”
“Good point. I’ll get the message out immediately.”
“Thanks.”
“What about New Albany?”
“We’re heading there now, to search rooftops and parking lots.”
“You should have some company. Every news station within 100 miles has sent choppers. If Decker’s on a rooftop, we should find him pretty quickly. By the way, you’re on speaker phone. Sherm Phillips says if you need anything else, call him.”
“Sherm, what’s the ETA on the military choppers?”
“There is none. We re-routed them to Gamble County, Missouri.”
“Why?”
“Decker, or one of his men, fired one of those two-step bombs over a festival crowd of 40,000 people. I’m extremely disappointed you didn’t alert us. It was exactly what you were concerned about: an outdoor event that draws tens of thousands of people.”
I’m stunned. He’s right, it’s my fault. I told my geeks to start with events that draw crowds in excess of 100,000 people. I planned to start there, and widen the parameters later.
I ask, “How bad is it in Missouri?”
“Really bad. But focus on New Albany in case Missouri was a diversion.”
“We can’t get any military support at all?”
“We’ve got the National Guard on standby. But we can’t roll them in without a definitive reason.”
“I’ve got a witness who says Decker plans to launch a drone attack. Isn’t that a definitive reason?”
“Not without a date and location,” Sherm says. “Give us a reason, I’ll send in the Guard. Anything else?”
“Yeah. Why didn’t you call to tell me Decker bombed a crowd in Missouri? Don’t you think that information could be helpful to me?”
“I hold you personally responsible for failing to alert us about that festival. We’ve got a call list, Creed. And because you fucked up I moved you so far down the list your local ice cream truck driver will get the news before you.”
“It’s great to be appreciated.”
“Fuck you!”
In the background the president says, “Thanks for your service!”
8.
THE FIRST GUY I see standing on a roof in New Albany looks all wrong, even from this distance. So does the second guy. And the third.
“What are the chances this many men would be standing on rooftops in New Albany?” I ask.
“Normally I’d say zero,” Chaz says, “But maybe they’re waiting for the air show to resume.”
“By themselves? No wife, kids, or friends? I doubt it.”
It’s clear Decker set us up.
As we circle the city, checking out the guys on the roofs, Geek squad Larry calls to ask if I heard about Gamble County, Missouri, and to apologize for not including that in their report.
“Not your fault, Larry. I set the parameters. Any word on the casualties?”
“No hard numbers, but it’s really bad. Hundreds, they think. Maybe more.”
He then gives me the coordinates of the small farm just outside New Albany that was leased a year ago to a Mr. A. Rennick, and I pass them along to Chaz.
“We would’ve caught it sooner,” Larry says, “but we focused on New Albany first, and then started moving outward.”
“You did the right thing.”
“We do have some good news,” he says.
“I could use some.”
“The government declared the Louisville bombing a terrorist attack.”
“Why’s that good news?”
“It means our legal team was able to classify Jane Doe as a suspected terrorist. They’re releasing her to our care. She’ll be here, at Sensory Medical, in a few hours. These lawyers must be great. There were no objections.”
“Not even the FBI?”
“No sir. They’ve already left the hospital. Kimberly’s medevac has been green-lighted all the way.”
“No one knows who she is?”
“Just the two who hired her.”
“I’ll deal with them soon enough.”
“Should we keep searching for farms in the area?”
“Yes. There could be more than one.”
“The one I gave you has two outbuildings. Maybe you’ll find the drones there.”
“I hope so.”
Within minutes Chaz sets us down on a level area of farmland and says, “I don’t know what to do. Am I likely to get shot?”
“No. I doubt there’s anyone or anything in these sheds. But if someone shows up, honk the horn.”
“Horn? Helicopters don’t have horns.”
“No shit?”
“Why would we need a horn?”
“To make other choppers get out of the way.”
“But—”
“It was a joke, Chaz.”
“Oh.”
“Relax. I’ll be right back.”
I was wrong. There is something inside one of the sheds. I call Sherm.
“Tell me something good,” he says.
“I found the drones.”
“What? No shit?”
We located Decker’s farm. He’s got two storage sheds. One’s empty, the other contains nine drones in various stages of disrepair.”
“The lying bastard never had the technology.”
“It appears that way. But you need to send some guardsmen to secure this equipment. Some of these drones look operable.”
“In your opinion is the drone threat over?”
“Unless he’s got more than nine. According to my expert on the subject, that’s unlikely.”
“It has to be your call, Creed.”
“Sherm, you’ve become a politician.”
“I can’t be much help to you if I lose my job.”
“And if I lose mine?”
“You don’t have one, remember?”
“I do remember. It’s a fact I’m reminded of every time I try to give an official order. Fine. I’m calling it.”
“Say it for the record.”
“The drone threat is over.”
“Give me the location and I’ll send some military to clean the site. Maybe we’ll learn something after checking out his equipment.”
“How soon can they get here?”
“Why? You got a date?”
“I need to get back to the hospital to interview one of the witnesses before she gets air lifted to Sensory Medical.”
“Are you talking about Jane Doe?”
“Yes.”
“You won’t be interviewing her.”
“Why Not?”
“She’s brain dead.”
I fall to the ground.
Literally.
The world is spinning all around me. I reach for my cell phone, but can’t locate it. I notice Chaz, the pilot standing over me.
Is that a gun he’s holding?
9.
IT’S NOT A gun. And Chaz is a news helicopter pilot, not a terrorist. And I’m a paranoid freak. Chaz helps me to a sitting position, hands me my cell phone. “Sherm?”
“What happened?”
“I dropped the phone. “What do you mean she’s brain dead?”
“I’m surprised you don’t know. Aren’t you the one who wanted to medevac her to Sensory Medical?”
“Yes.”
“Well, she’ll be there in a few hours.”
“There was only one Jane Doe, right?”
“Just the one. And I have no idea what you hope to gain from having her in your facility.”
“Who pronounced her brain dead?”
“I don’t know what you call them. Doctors, neurologists, whatever. For the FBI to be satisfied, it had to be thorough. You still want her at Sensory?”
“Yes.”
I’ve got to get to the hospital to be with Kimberly. Got to figure out what’s going on. Got to get her to Virginia, so we can restore her. But I have to wait for the National Guard to pick up the drones, because they represent a national security risk. If Callie were here, she could wait for them.
But she’s in New Orleans, in a nurse’s uniform.
I should just leave and tell Sherm to have the ice cream guy take care of it, since he’s so much more valuable than me.
I’ve got to do something, got to call the one person I know who can straighten this out. I press a key on my cell phone and Dr. Gideon Box answers while talking to someone else. I hear him say “Sorry, Mr. Chiles. I’m afraid our interview is concluded. I’ve got an emergency.”
To me he says, “Hang on a sec, I’m on live TV. I need to get the microphones off.”
It takes him 20 seconds to do that, then he says, “Sorry about that. What’s up?”
“My daughter’s been in an accident. She’s been pronounced brain dead.”
I hear Trudy in the background telling someone to take their hands off her. There are sounds of a scuffle, and a man shouting, “Ow! Shit! Get her off me!”
Dr. Box says, “Sorry, couldn’t hear you. It’s quite hectic here.” He shouts, “Trudy, let’s go!” Then gets back on the phone and says, “Who’s been pronounced brain dead?”
“My daughter.”
“Shit. I’m so sorry.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means the doctors have done all they can to treat her. They’re probably supporting the heart with oxygen and medication.”
“So she’s technically alive.”
“No. They can keep her life functions going a few days, but brain death can’t be reversed. It’s final. Your daughter will never wake up, or recover.”
“We’ve got the finest doctors in the world at Sensory Medical. That’s where she’s being taken. I want you there.”
“I’m sorry for your loss, Donovan. But if she’s brain dead, the only reason to keep her on life support is to harvest her organs. Is that your wish?”
“My wish is full and complete recovery.”
“Personally, I’m quite fond of you. But you’re a dangerous and highly unpredictable man. I’d rather not be in the same room with you when your daughter passes.”
“Hours ago they said she’d be fine. Could they have misdiagnosed her?”