“I hope this is a false alarm…”
“You need to leave here!” Yosif said, waving to the yacht. “Go away!”
“That boat…” the woman leaning over the side of the yacht said, pointing.
“Is very bad place, ma’am,” Yosif shouted back. “Go awa…” He froze as he suddenly felt a strong twitch hit his entire body. “Go…”
“GAS! GAS! GAS!” Sergei screamed, clawing for his mask as Yosif fell to the deck. He could feel the twitching, too. He managed to get his mask on and cleared, then ripped out an atropine injector and slammed it into the inside of his thigh.
The atropine injector, the brand name being AtroPen, looked a good bit like a small vibrator and nothing at all like a syringe. And despite what Hollywood might think, you didn’t inject it into your chest. It was designed to be injected into the thigh. People basic trained in its use were instructed to inject it in their outer thigh. Experts in the field went straight for the inner thigh, which had more blood vessels and picked up the atropine faster, hopefully missing the femoral artery. It had a spring-loaded needle two centimeters long that first flew out like a spring-blade, penetrating cloth, skin and muscle then, in one massive pump, dumped two milligrams of atropine into the human system.
Atropine was not an antidote for nerve gas, though. All it did was counteract the effects. He followed it with his 2-Pam injector. 2-Pam chloride neutralized most of the major nerve gas chemicals.
The secondary effects of both chemicals, however, were severe.
The yacht had turned away and was now lumbering up to top speed and headed south. The woman wasn’t appearing to suffer any effects but there were houses in the area. The gas would be drifting towards them.
“This is very ungood,” Mike said as the crew of the Cigarette either dropped or started donning masks. He should have told them to do that immediately. But, fuck, they didn’t even have MOPP gear. Another fuck-up on his part. They should have done the whole fucking mission in MOPP.
“JTF, JTF, HazMat is active,” Mike said with a sigh. “I have a team down.” He looked out the door and blanched as a news helo approached from the north. “And we are so out of here.”
“This is Maria Consuella with Miami Five Live,” the woman said. She had headphones on and was looking out the door of a helicopter. “We have a report that a major hazardous material spill has occurred near Tavernier Creek in the Keys as the result of what appears to be an antidrug operation…”
“What a way to start the morning,” the President said, shaking his head. Two cigarette boats were just speeding away to the east and there was a flash of a Hind helicopter, dropping down to treetop level and heading east as well. The camera, fortunately, did not track in on them but focused on the upside-down boat and the police boats that were gathering in the area.
“They stopped four barrels,” the DCIA said, shrugging. “Give them that. But, yes, it’s pretty public.”
“We might as well go public, then,” the President said, looking over at his chief of staff.
“The press release is prepared,” the COS said, nodding.
“Call the networks,” the President said. “Tell them we’re requiring time under emergency broadcast regulations. Call all the cable groups, too. Tell them that we need everything.”
“Can you make base?” Mike asked.
“Plenty,” Kacey said.
“Get high and head for base,” Mike said. “Keep an eye out for planes. Try to keep completely out of sight. We’re public enough as it is.” He changed frequencies and sighed. “Vil, what’s the status on Yosif’s team?”
“Kildar,” Vil said. “Yosif was hit hard. So were two more of the people on that boat. They are headed for the station. We are just arriving.” They were pulling into the dock even as he spoke and a crowd of Coast Guardsmen were gathered watching the spec-ops team pull in.
“Tell the commander that we need to minimize this as much as possible.”
“That… is going to be hard.”
Coast Guard Captain Paul Howard looked at the gathering crowd and shook his head.
“Bosun!” he shouted. “I see a bunch of people that need to find something to do!”
“Everybody but the fuel crew, clear the area!” the senior NCO of the station bellowed. “I can find things for you to do if I have to!”
The fueling crews caught the tossed lines and tied up the Fountain and Drone, then started pulling out hoses. The fuel was pumped over from the helo supply point but it was identical to what the cigarettes used.
“Who’s senior?” the base commander asked.
“I am,” a balaclava-clad figure said in a thick accent. Eastern European by the sound of it. The guy jumped up to the dock and saluted. “Team Vil, sir.”
“I’ve been instructed to keep this as quiet as possible,” the captain said. “But that’s going to be tough, given that it’s broad daylight.”
“Could not be avoided, sir,” the man said. “We had to intercept the shipment.”
“This the WMD we’ve been looking for?” the captain asked. “I was told to dispatch a boat to pick up a Scarab and beware of HazMat.”
“Yes, sir. That was the boat we took down.” His men were hoisting wounded, liberally strapped up with duct tape, onto the dock. “These gentlemen we turn over to your care. Also this,” the battle-armored man said, handing over a scrap of paper, “is pick-up points for WMD. Should be giving to police. Maybe pick-up still happen. Maybe not.”
The captain took the paper, then looked closely at the prisoners. All but one were wounded. And all the shots were through knees. “Been doing a little torture, have we?” he asked angrily.
“Only a bit,” the man said, shrugging. “And only one of them. The shots were by a sniper to prevent them releasing the WMD.”
“No fucking way,” the bosun said, shaking his head. “You don’t shoot like that in a boat!”
“Helicopter,” the man corrected. “And we have a very good sniper, yes? We have wounded coming in as well. Poison gas. They must be taken to hospital.”
“Crap,” Howard said. “I’ll get some medics in suits right away. How contaminated?”
“Is no such thing as little contamination, yes?” the man said. “My boat is fueled. I am leaving drivers. Please to wash down boats and turn over to drivers. Decon everyone but they come back on boats, those that are functional. Even if exposed. We have very good doctor take care of them.”
“Will do,” the captain said, shaking his head. “Bosun…”
“Decon crews,” the bosun said, nodding. “Medics in suits. Air evac. Wash down the bird. And talk to everybody…”
“This incident did not happen.”
Chapter Nineteen
“I am here to discuss the incident that has recently occurred in South Florida,” the President said, ignoring the lights from the cameras. “It has been reported that this was part of an antidrug operation. This is not, in fact, true. The incident was the result of an antiterrorism operation. The hazardous material released was VX nerve gas that terrorists were attempting to smuggle into the United States.”
He paused at the muttering from the room. It was pretty clear that while it wasn’t “confirmed” enough to have made the news, yet, the reporters had had the word it wasn’t some sort of hazardous drugs.
“As was the material recovered from the Wal-Mart truck, yesterday. I would like to thank the Wal-Mart corporation for their cooperation in this matter. By allowing the report of it being regular hazardous materials to remain, thus staining their reputation, we were able to intercept this second shipment.