Mike Galloway answered carefully. “We believe she might be using the U.S. mail to send threatening letters.”
While Galloway had the clerk repeat the story so that he could copy down the details, Thomas excused himself. He used the radio in the helicopter to contact BATF headquarters.
Ruth Ann wasted little time getting the director on the line. McShane listened to Thomas’s findings, then passed on some pertinent information of his own.
A call from Ted Callahan indicated there was a 97 percent probability that the C4 sample they had given him to analyze had been stolen from the National Guard Armory at Wheeling, West Virginia. With this in mind, McShane accessed the bureau’s extensive computer files to track down a suspect militia group, based deep in the Allegheny Mountains, approximately halfway between Wheeling and Winchester.
He made it a point to remind Thomas that the group that had initially threatened them went by the name of Sons of the Patriots. The militia organization the director subsequently chanced upon called itself the Holly River Patriots.
As if that weren’t enough to grab his attention, McShane’s next revelation was the clincher the Holly River Patriots were led by a certain Capt. Lee Pierce, U. S. Army, Ret. And what made this fact particularly intriguing was that Captain Pierce was a woman, who was on record as expressing definite anti-government doctrine to her devoted followers.
14
Their-second day at sea saw the QE2 pass south of Newfoundland’s Cape Race and turn eastward over the open Atlantic. This portion of the crossing was known as the great circle route, and the ship would encounter no land of any sort until it reached England’s southern shores, in eighty-some hours.
Nor would they encounter, if all went right, the four submarines that had formed ranks below them to provide the super liner with a clandestine escort. Led by the USS James K. Polk, this lethal quartet wouldn’t make themselves known until their charge was safely at harbor in Southampton.
As was normally the case by the second day at sea, the ship’s passengers had begun to settle in. Most of those who were first-time sailors had adjusted to the hull’s gentle rocking motion. Newcomers to the QE2 were most likely familiar enough with the giant ocean liner’s internal layout to get themselves to their desired destinations without asking directions, or having to refer to their foldout maps.
Included in this latter group was Vince Kellogg, who was making his way through the ship’s maze of passageways and decks like a longtime crew member. His expanded knowledge of these interior spaces was an indirect result of the warning they had received the previous morning.
Shortly after his brother’s fax arrived, an emergency meeting of the ship’s security personnel and the senior agents from each of the G-7 nations was convened. Robert Hartwell chaired this session.
Vince presented the initial briefing. He started by telling them about the two package bombs, then he read the venomous letter from the Sons of the Patriots. Both the BATF and the Secret Service, he said, considered it to be a legitimate threat to the QE2. Since the investigation was still in progress back in the States, Vince couldn’t give them any additional information about this heretofore unknown group.
The head of the French contingent was particularly interested in learning more about the Sons of the Patriots. Samuel Morrison promised him that he’d share all intelligence about the group, as soon as it was available. The SAIC then went on to stand before his assembled colleagues, and in his best diplomatic manner, ask them if they considered this new threat serious enough to warrant aborting the crossing. The Canadian port of Halifax was nearby, and the heads of state could be evacuated there, with the summit continuing on land.
Vince was surprised by the passionate response this suggestion generated. A collective
“No!” escaped from the lips of the security chiefs. The Frenchman spoke for the group as a whole, and demanded more concrete evidence before even considering terminating the summit in such a manner. Again he asked about the Sons of the Patriots. Were they a legitimate terrorist group whose threats were to be taken seriously? And why hadn’t they included any specific details as to exactly what manner their so-called attack was to take?
Great Britain’s representative agreed. He also felt that the threat was much too general, and revealed the numerous crank letters he had been receiving for the last month. Many of these letters threatened similar attacks on the QE2 should the summit be convened, and they all turned out to be hoaxes.
The German in their midst shifted the focus back to the QE2’s own security force. Even if a terrorist group did desire to interrupt the summit, wouldn’t the iron-tight security effort that he had witnessed back in New York keep them from doing so?
Robert Hartwell entered the fray and assured them that regardless of this latest threat’s substance, he was standing by his guarantee of an incident-free crossing. This was all the others had to hear to prompt a unanimous response-the crossing would continue.
The meeting was adjourned and Samuel Morrison took Vince aside to plot the way in which they would react to the threat. Though it would mean stretching their already depleted resources and making do with extended shifts, Morrison temporarily relieved Vince from Presidential-escort duty.
Vince’s new job was to work with Beowulf and his Customs Service handler. They would err on the side of caution, and resweep every square inch of the giant vessel for any sign of an unwanted IED.
They had already begun the mammoth task the previous afternoon. The Purser’s Office was their first stop. The Mail Room was searched, ever mindful of the manner in which the Sons of the Patriots had previously made good their threats. Parcels and letters alike underwent the scrutiny of Beowulf s sensitive nostrils, all to no avail.
Tuff was called in to help them coordinate the rest of their sweep.
They decided to start on the ship’s bottom most deck and work their way topside. This brought Vince back to the Engine Room, Chinatown, the working alleyway, and the food-storage spaces. He also got his first look at the sixteen-car Garage and the well-equipped Hospital.
Their visit to the Gym found the facility closed to the public.
Electrical repairs were still underway, and Beowulf s efforts were hampered by snaking coils of conduit that made the mere act of walking a bit hazardous.
They were on their way to visit the Kitchen, when Vince became aware of the late hour. An exhausted Beowulf was led up to the kennels on Signal Deck, and Vince found himself with just enough time to get ready for the captain’s cocktail party.
This maritime ritual went back to the days of sail. It was an elegant, black-tie affair, and Vince was impressed that even the President of the United States had to wait in the receiving line. This only went to prove the power of the QE2’s bearded captain, who was the ultimate master of his floating domain.
Afterward, Vince helped fill a hole in their coverage schedule by attending a formal dinner in the Queens Grill. The heads of state occupied a large table in the center of the room. Vince sat on the balcony, his charge in clear view.
Samuel Morrison joined him halfway through the meal, and accompanied Vince and the heads of state to the Grand Lounge for the evening’s entertainment. An attractive group of long-legged showgirls performed a musical tribute comprised of songs, dances, and costumes from all nine of the summit nations. The English comedian Max Bygraves followed them, with a hilarious routine that poked fun at each of the world leaders.
The show ended at midnight, when Vince’s relief finally arrived. It had been a long day, and he headed to his cabin for a sound, dreamless slumber.