Gideon's Corpse

17

Dr. Myron Dart sat in the conference room of the Department of Energy’s Emergency Response Center, eight stories below the streets of Manhattan. A single black folder rested on the polished wood of the conference table. The clock on the wall behind him read two minutes to midnight. He knew he was exhausted and running on fumes, but there could be no letup. It was times like these he was grateful for his marine training, where they pushed you to the limit, then beyond, and then even beyond that.

The door to the room opened and the tall, wraith-like form of Miles Cunningham, his personal assistant, entered. He nodded at Dart, his ascetic features betraying no emotion. Every day Dart offered thanks for his almost supernaturally competent, monk-like assistant, who seemed to have transcended the vagaries of human emotion. Behind Cunningham trooped in the rest of the NEST top hierarchy. They took their seats around the table in perfect silence.

Dart glanced over his shoulder, saw the minute hand click over. Midnight exactly. He tried to cover up his pleasure at the exactitude. He had trained his staff well.

Now he opened the black folder that lay before him. “Thank you for attending this emergency meeting on such short notice,” he began. “I’m going to brief you on the latest developments.”

He looked over the top sheet. “First, some very good news: the cryptanalysts at the FBI broke the encryption on Chalker’s computer. We also have in hand the forensic analysis of what Chalker was carrying in his pockets, and we’ve analyzed the contents of his apartment.” He glanced around at his deputies. “The salient points are as follows. The computer is still being analyzed but so far we’ve found little beyond files of jihadist rantings, streaming-video AVIs of the preaching of various radical clerics, and religious tracts relating to common jihadist goals such as the usual ‘smiting of the infidel’ stuff. His browser history showed numerous visits to radical websites. Unfortunately, from what we’ve found so far the material is quite generic. We didn’t find specific email exchanges with individuals, no direct links to individual terrorists, al-Qaeda, or other radical groups. In short, we haven’t yet found information about the specific identity of his co-conspirators, specific details of the plot, or on how the nuke was actually acquired.”

His gray eyes moved around the table again. “Does anyone have any thoughts on what we might infer from this?”

There was a moment of silence. Then somebody spoke up. “The computer was a backup machine?”

“My thoughts exactly. Anything else?”

“Could it have been planted? As bait, perhaps?”

“Another possibility.”

A short discussion ensued and when it had reached its fruitful end Dart skillfully brought the conversation back around to the next point.

“I’ve instructed the teams to keep looking for another computer, or computers. However—” and here his tone developed an edge—“Chalker’s machine did include extensive photographs and videos of five Washington landmarks: the Lincoln Memorial, the Capitol, the Pentagon, the Smithsonian Castle, and the White House. There was nothing on any New York landmark.”

There was a low murmuring around the table. “Washington?” someone said.

“Correct.”

“Could this be a plant? A diversion?”

“At first we thought that might be the case, and then we analyzed the contents of Chalker’s apartment and the contents of his pockets. As you’ll recall, we recovered in his pocket a scrawled web address. This address proved to be quite revealing. The website it referenced was encrypted, and it had been shut down and the information removed from the server—located in Yemen—but we were able to recover a mirror image of it via the CIA’s classified web archiving department. They put their best people on it and finally broke the encryption. There we did learn some details of the bomb design, plus the same list of five targets in Washington, along with three others that seem to have been discarded at some point in the past: the Air and Space Museum, the Dirksen Senate Office Building, and the Cannon House Office Building. Beyond that, the site was woefully short on specifics. Remember, however, that among the contents of his pockets was an admission stub to the National Air and Space Museum.”

A pause as Dart carefully turned a piece of paper over.

“His apartment contained additional religious tracts, DVDs, and documents, as well as a copy of the Qur’an in English, which certain passages marked involving fire, war, and Armageddon.”

Another turn of paper.

“There was a calendar on Chalker’s refrigerator. It was full of appointments he seems to have made. They were all cryptic, just shorthand letters. The key point is this: the appointments abruptly end on the twenty-first of this month. After that, the calendar is blank.”

He paused, his eyes slowly moving around the table, making sure everyone understood the significance. “Analysis indicates that Chalker was exposed at the Long Island City location where the bomb appears to have been assembled. However, the evidence is clear that the bomb was successfully completed. Although the lab had been emptied and burned, the remains of a map of Washington was found, again with those same five sites circled.”

He closed the folder and leaned forward, his face growing dark. “The conclusion we’ve reached is this: the target is Washington, DC, not New York. And the probable date of the attack is the twenty-first of this month. We have very little time.”

An attendee raised a hand. Dart acknowledged him with a flicker of his eyes.

“Why assemble a bomb destined for DC in New York?”

“An excellent question. Our belief is that New York is much better suited for this sort of clandestine activity—a huge, sprawling, anonymous, multi-ethnic city where people mind their own business. It also has a large, sympathetic population of radical Islamists. DC, on the other hand, is a more tightly controlled environment, with higher security overall and a very small Islamic population. We believe that’s the reason they chose to make the bomb in New York and transport it to DC.”

Another silence.

“Accordingly, we will immediately be shifting our base of operations to DC. I want you all to get ready to move—now. The formal orders are in prep.”

Dart stood up and began to pace behind his chair. “The computer contained no smoking guns, and the other evidence we have isn’t specific enough. Despite their missteps, these terrorists have been careful. And yet we’ve obtained the two most vital pieces of information: where, and possibly when. By tomorrow morning, I expect each and every one of you to be in Washington, in the new operations center. Your folders contain the details and security protocols. We will of course be drawing in all available assets from the FBI, local law enforcement, and the armed forces.”

He stopped pacing. “As we speak, the president and the vice president are moving to the Presidential Emergency Operations Center. In the coming twenty-four hours, Congress and the cabinet, as well as other critical government officials, will be shifted to the Congressional Bunker and certain undisclosed locations. The National Guard is being mobilized to handle the orderly evacuation of civilians.”

Once again, his gaze riveted the group. “It is our firm hope that—knowing what we now know—we’ll be able to thwart this attack. However, we must be extremely cautious in the way we handle the general public. You have all seen the panic that has gripped New York, the disorderly exodus, the gyrations in the financial markets. We have to expect that an even worse panic will grip Washington, especially when we start evacuating. The key to managing the panic is to manage the press. People need information. It’ll be a disaster if they suspect us of holding back. We obviously can’t hide the probable location of the attack. But it is of the utmost importance that the possible date of the attack not become known. That information is both uncertain and highly inflammatory. Any leak of that date will be tracked down and treated as nothing short of treason. Are we understood?”

Affirmations from around the table.

“Are there any questions?”

“Do we have any information on where the terrorists got the nuclear material?” someone asked.

“So far, we haven’t identified any missing nuclear material from our own arsenal, although our records in some instances are incomplete or missing. We’re looking into all the possibilities—including Pakistan, Russia, and North Korea.”

When there were no more questions, Dart ended the meeting. “I expect you to hit the ground running in DC tomorrow morning. It’s going to be a long night for all of us. We’ll have another briefing at noon in the Twelfth Street Command Center. And now, good evening.”

The conference room emptied as quickly as it had filled. As Dart picked up the black folder and rapped it smartly against the table, Cunningham, his assistant, approached. “Any orders, sir?”

“I want you to get in touch with that FBI agent, Fordyce. See if he and Crew have made any progress in Santa Fe. This whole investigation is a lumbering monster, but those two are just nimble enough to come up with something fresh. I want to keep an eye on them.”