"Everyone look up at me. I don't work for the FBI or any federal agency. I have no rules or restrictions holding me back, so don't fuck with me. True America is finished. Jackson Greely, Lee Harding and Owen Mills will be dead before the sun goes down. No mercy will be shown. This is how my organization works. The bottled water loaded onto these trucks carries the same weaponized encephalitis that destroyed a city in Russia and led to the president's national address yesterday morning."
All of them mumbled and protested.
The man restrained on the floor spoke up. "I didn't know the water was poisoned. I was dragged up here to help."
"With a Beretta pistol?" Daniel said.
"That's my own pistol. I'm a local volunteer for True America. I was asked to show up at the loading bay, so I tucked the pistol into my belt when I left last night. It was a little weird getting a call to come here after dark on a Saturday night."
"I know this guy. He's not a troublemaker," vouched one of the men in the line.
"I'm really not interested in a list of civic achievements. I need to know everything this group can tell me about the convoys that left here," Daniel said.
The man on the ground spoke up again. "You need to check the locked box back there on that folding table. Ms. Paulson took one of those outside right before each convoy left. She came back empty handed."
Munoz stumbled back into the warehouse through the office door. "Wilkins split. We need to get out of here immediately."
"Melendez. What's your status?" Daniel said into the comm.
"Got the driver. Checking the other cabs. Looks like the rest of them took off," Melendez replied over the comms channel.
"Understood. Get him into the Cherokee. Search the driver with the MP-5K and take everything. Munoz, search Paulson's body for anything. We move in thirty seconds."
Daniel stepped over to the True America operative on the ground and pulled a small knife. He cut the zip ties restraining the man's legs and pulled him to his feet. He pointed to Jessica and signaled that he wanted her to take custody of the prisoner.
"Fuck with me one bit, and I'll cut your throat," he said, pushing him toward Jessica. "Melendez, bring the car around."
"Give me a minute to search this body," Melendez replied.
"You have about twenty seconds," Petrovich said.
A new voice cut into his earpiece. "I'd recommend driving through the gate within the next sixty seconds. Honesdale dispatch just sent three cars to investigate reports of shots fired at the facility. I'll try to divert them, but this is bound to attract state troopers, which will inevitably drag the FBI into the picture," Graves said.
"Roger. Police en route. Fayed, I need you to intercept a gray Ford Taurus. Should be passing your position shortly. You're looking for a thin, gray-haired gentleman named Bob Wilkins. We need him to identify the drivers assigned to the convoys and help us access company records. Take him to the house."
"I see the Taurus. What the fuck happened in there? He's driving that thing like a bat out of hell," Fayed said.
"Make sure you grab him. He's our best shot at locating the convoys," Daniel said.
"Copy. Out."
Munoz finished searching Paulson's body, retrieving a cell phone, car keys and a few spare magazines for a pistol.
"Toss me the car keys," Daniel said.
Forty-five seconds later, they were split up between the Cherokee and Paulson's Mercedes SUV, travelling toward the gate. Munoz and Melendez had the True America operative in the Cherokee with the lockbox, while the Petroviches ferried Grizzly Adams. They sailed through the commercial gate unopposed, driving within the speed limit as they navigated toward Route Six. They passed several Honesdale police cars headed to the White Mills Distribution Center, followed closely by Pennsylvania state troopers. He hoped the contents of the box would shed some light on what Jackson Greely and the rest of his True America lunatics had planned for this supposed New Recovery.
Chapter 56
The president stared at the phone for a second and glanced at Jacob Remy, who shrugged. The situation room's senior watch officer had requested the president's presence in the main conference room. Normally, this request would be passed through his national security advisor, or someone a little higher up in the chain-of-command.
"Patch the watch officer through," he said out loud.
"Mr. Lee, you're connected to the president," his secretary said.
"Mr. President, I apologize for this unorthodox request, but we've had a major development. Major General Bob Kearney needs to speak with you. They've figured out what happened to the remaining canisters, but it's complicated, sir. He's standing by."
"Tell General Kearney that I'm on my—"
"Pardon the interruption, Mr. President, but he said that you'd want to talk to him before entering the situation room. General Sanderson was involved."
Jacob Remy stood up from his comfortable chair and gave the president a concerned look. He nodded a second later. The president had no idea where this would go, but he was fairly certain it would be painful. Kearney had vouched for Sanderson's NCTC liaison, who appeared to have been a True America undercover operative. His Washington, D.C., career would hit a wall if the evidence officially supported Shelby's theory that Sanderson had planted a traitor on the task force.
"All right. Put Major General Kearney on," the president said.
"Mr. President, General Kearney. Sorry for the subterfuge, but I have a situation that requires special handling."
"What do you mean by that? Sanderson's situation is already complicated enough."
"Are we on speakerphone, Mr. President?"
"Yes. I'm with my advisor, Jacob Remy. The room is clear."
"We've discovered six convoys suspected of carrying bottled water contaminated with the Zulu virus."
"Convoys? Bottled water?" he said, glancing at the pitcher of water on the silver tray at the edge of his desk.
"It appears that True America never intended to poison municipal water supplies. Sanderson's team tracked the canisters to a hidden facility in Pennsylvania, where they were used to lace bottles with the virus. Thousands of bottles headed to different targets. They managed to stop one of the convoys at its point of origin in Honesdale, Pennsylvania, at one of the Crystal Source spring water distribution plants."
"Have they figured out the convoy's target?"
"Yes, sir. The shipment was manifested and scheduled for delivery to the United Nations Headquarters in New York City. The delivery paperwork looks authentic."
"Good God. The General Assembly is scheduled to start a two-week session tomorrow. Do we know any of the other targets?"
"Negative, sir. The lead drivers of each convoy were given sealed boxes with preprogrammed GPS units, a satellite phone and delivery paperwork. Only the driver knows the target."
"Where is Honesdale?"
"Near Scranton, sir."
"Have you notified Director Shelby? They have an entire task force in Scranton."
"I've been debating that," Kearney said.
"What? I'm not sure I'm hearing you correctly, General. What exactly is there to debate?"
"This is why I wanted to talk with you offline. Sanderson's team has unfinished business. The FBI task force could interfere," Kearney said.
"Go ahead."
Jacob Remy was shaking his head slowly, expressing the same sentiment that the president was feeling. It had been a big mistake to let Sanderson work his way into the task force.