Like a fortress on the edge of the continent, The Headlands Nuclear Power Plant rose up out of the gray bedrock and sat, unmoving and grim in the gathering fog of late December. There was no lighthouse or foghorn to warn seamen of the location of the plant. The huge facility was impossible to hide but tried not to call attention to itself and was painted neutral colors in an attempt to blend in with its surroundings. Numbing cold surf pounded relentlessly — much as it had for hundreds of thousands of years — at the base of the steep rocky cliffs on which the plant was built, leaving no purchase for groping hands or landing areas for errant boats. Great white sharks prowled this stretch of the northern California coastline, making it a graveyard for seals and otters as they played in the giant kelp beds that swayed hypnotically to and fro with the ocean surge.
Seemingly impenetrable to the weather, and to Jansen and Stone who were watching it from a safe distance off shore, it was clear to them that the commercial nuclear power facility couldn’t be breached from the ocean. They’d be safe enough, once inside. They’d only have to worry about the FBI’s take-back strategies from the road or from the hills. This narrowed down the areas they would have to defend. They knew the plant was designed to resist and repel people attacking from the outside. But the security force generally didn’t look inward. So once inside, Jansen and Stone knew that they’d have the upper hand and it’d be hard to get them out. At least not before they were ready to leave.
Convinced they’d seen everything they needed to see, they pulled in their fishing lines, started the 75-horsepower Evinrude, and headed back to the marina where they’d rented the boat. Careful planning was an essential ingredient to pulling this off. It was time now to get key assets in place — and that took advance work. They were careful men, if nothing else.
On their way back to the marina and when they were out of sight of the plant’s watchful eyes, Jansen got out a satellite phone and dialed the secure number for Waxman Industries in Atlanta, Georgia.
“Yes?” was the only greeting.
“This is Jansen. We’re ready to go. You can set things in motion.”
The person at Waxman Industries said, “You understand once we start this, you’re committed to finishing it. We will not tolerate incompetence or failure."
“If by that you mean I won’t be paid unless we’re successful, I understand that.” Jansen then lowered his voice to make sure his next point was clearly understood. “But let me tell you something. If you don’t live up to your end of the agreement, I’ll come and find you. If you don’t pay, I’ll kill you, your family, and everyone you know!”
The person at Waxman Industries paused for a moment and then said in an equally low, monotone voice, “Based on your reputation in the military, I would expect nothing less. That does have something to do with why you were discharged, doesn’t it?”
Jansen could hear the hint of sarcasm on the other end of the phone. “My time in the service is of no importance to you. All you need to know is that the Rangers trained me to find and kill the enemy, and by God, you’ll become my enemy if you don’t live up to your end of this deal.”
Another pause. “Good. Then we understand one another.” With that, the man at Waxman Industries terminated the call.
Jansen wasn’t sure if he detected a hint of humor from the other man, but there was certainly no fear in his voice. He didn’t know the person at the other end of the phone, but it was always important to establish your position in a situation like this. He’d made his intentions clear; and regardless of his threat, he felt sure he’d gotten his point across. He put the phone back in his pocket and turned up the collar on his jacket to ward off the December chill.
Stone looked at Jansen, waiting for him to tell him about the phone call, but when that information wasn’t forthcoming, he asked, “Well?”
Jansen looked over at Stone in a condescending way, “We’re good to go. Let’s get back to town and we can talk about the next steps.” He saw no need to explain his plans completely to Stone. More accurately, he didn’t want Stone to know everything. Jansen was the one Waxman Industries hired to coordinate this plan, and he didn’t want or need others to know too much about the specifics of the plan. Leaks could hurt them, and he’d done his best to control them up until now. He’d give Stone what he needed to know, when he needed to know it.
Stone noticed the stare and the lack of information provided. He didn’t like Jansen and certainly didn’t like taking orders from him. Unlike Stone, Jansen was an outsider to the Waxman Industries ‘security group.’ Stone had been with that group for years now and had done a number of jobs for them. More of a thug than someone trained in operations of this nature, Stone, and a number of others who worked for Waxman, certainly believed themselves more than capable of doing this job. But for some reason passing Stone’s understanding, Waxman Industries had brought in Jansen to lead this particular effort. Stone’s ego was often easily bruised, and it frequently showed in his attitude, but the pay for this job was going to be very, very good and he couldn’t overlook that. So he swallowed his pride and acquiesced to work under this new guy Jansen… at least for a while.
Over the next thirty minutes, and without speaking to one other, Stone guided the boat over the choppy winter seas back to the marina.
As they pulled up to the dock, he couldn’t stand it anymore. “So, I’ll ask again… what’s next?” he demanded with impatience and no small hint of frustration in his tone.
Jansen didn’t rise to the bait. “Now, we get our team inside.”
Stone didn’t like the inference that suddenly he and his men were now part of Jansen’s ‘team’. “And how exactly are we going to do that?” he said. Stone had experience and believed he should be trusted with key elements of the plan. So when Jansen didn’t tell him things, it pissed him off.
Jansen paused for a moment, debating how much he should tell him. He knew Stone didn’t like him, but he couldn’t care less. He knew how to crack the security of this power plant and apparently Stone didn’t. That was precisely why Waxman Industries hired him. Stone was a thug, a hired hand, a blunt instrument and did not have the temperament or the talent for a job of this complexity.
Jansen knew that with a refueling and maintenance outage coming in the spring when demand for The Headland’s electricity was low, deliveries were commonplace weeks and even months in advance of the shutdown and refueling of one of the two large pressurized water reactors. Hundreds of jobs, all vital to the success of the outage, all needed to be done, many of them by temporary workers. So he’d arranged for a few of his men to apply for temp jobs during the outage. The plant was always looking for craftsmen, welders, pipefitters, electricians and construction workers who were able to work for just a month or two — transient workers who went from one nuclear plant to another for good money, or ‘road whores’ as they are sometime called. Most of the large nuclear power plant organizations had become more efficient in refueling the giant reactors and performing maintenance that could only be done with the plant off line. As a result, outage work scope was reduced and the duration of the shutdowns became shorter and shorter.