In addition to the sophisticated kill switches, the trucks were designed to defend themselves with concealable Metal Storm robotic 40mm guns that could quickly deliver massive barrages of suppressing fire over a large area.
From the outside, though, you’d never know they were anything but your run-of-the-mill haulers, with standard diamond-shaped warning placards and labels, and painted with their company logos. Even the small comm domes atop their cabs were a common sight on such tractors.
And as expected, sensitive materials were not left in the hands of apprentices. Ghost fleet drivers comprised some of the most experienced haulers on the road, many with over two million miles of hazmat transports under their belts.
The data Fisher continued scanning was merely a refresher course. It was his business to know about the ghost fleet and their operations since hazmat materials were likely targets for terrorist attacks.
“Okay, got it,” said Charlie. “TSMT’s in charge of the shipment. President Caldwell just got me access to the ghost fleet’s network.”
Tri-State Motor Transit was one of a handful of companies that specialized in moving hazardous materials for both civilian clients and government contractors. They had a reputation for having some of the most adept and skillful drivers in the industry—but if their shipments had been compromised, then all the safety training and experience in the world could still fail them.
“Okay, patching through,” Charlie said.
The SMI flashed as a map of the United States blossomed to life, outlines of states glowing in brilliant green with an overlay of cargo routes shimmering in red.
Grim began pointing to the flashing blue dots on the major highways. “Here they are. I count eight, Charlie.”
“Confirm. Eight trucks. They’ve left Nevada and are en route to the Port of Jacksonville, Florida. They’ve scattered the loads, though. Each truck is about eight hours behind the one in front of it, with a few of them taking a more northern route you can see there.”
“Do these trucks have escorts?” Kasperov asked from behind them. “Department of Homeland Security teams or something?”
“No, they don’t travel with escorts,” said Fisher. “Draws too much attention.”
“Mr. Kasperov, you said the oligarchs might attack these shipments,” Grim began. “Do you have anything more specific?”
Kasperov flinched and could not meet Grim’s gaze.
“If they want to take out the entire shipment, they’ll wait until all the trucks reach the port,” said Charlie. “They could blow the cargo ship or even launch an air attack from the shipping yard. Hell, they could already have the shipping yard rigged to blow.”
Grim raised her voice, her tone twice as emphatic. “Mr. Kasperov? Do you know something? If you do, you have to tell us. You realize what’s at stake here, don’t you?”
Fisher stepped over to the man. “We rescued your daughter. You do this for her. You talk.”
Kasperov nodded. “As I said, their plan has three stages. I was to be first. They never told me about other stages. One of my best employees spied on one of them, hacked his computers, and told me about it.”
“Are you talking about Kannonball?” Charlie asked.
“Yes, Patrik Ruggov, Kannonball. He learned about shadow war oligarchs have against your nation. The president was trying to put an end, but they kept on. He learned about teams of Iranians they hired who were smuggled into United States across Mexican border and purchases of large quantities of C-4 explosives from cartels. He told me about many trips to Nevada. He learned that stage two of attack was to be terror and contamination. But again, I never thought they would go through with it. Always a deterrent, a way to threaten Treskayev, manipulate him.”
“Where’s the lead truck now?” asked Fisher.
Grim pointed to the map. “Topeka, Kansas. Looks like it’s nearing exit 361B just south of the North Kansas Avenue Bridge, rolling at sixty-eight miles per hour.”
“So we’ve got some time before all the trucks reach Jacksonville,” said Fisher.
“Maybe not,” said Grim. “I’ll have the SMI generate a blast scenario—because if you think about it, multiple hits on multiple trucks would spread the most terror and contamination. That’s what they’re after.”
“So you think the C-4’s already on board the trucks?” asked Fisher. “They won’t blow them all in Jacksonville?”
“Not enough bang for their buck. I think the shipping containers were rigged before the drums were ever loaded. An inside job with security at the site. Launching an attack along the route requires them to know the route beforehand. Rigging the bombs on a simple timer or via remote detonation’s a lot easier.”
“Jesus, I hope you’re wrong,” said Fisher.
“Me, too,” said Grim. “Because look at this.”
The SMI had generated a flashing blip with concentric circles to illustrate the explosion of the lead truck on the I-70 off-ramp at Exit 361B near the bridge.
The shipping containers enclosing the barrels of thorium could withstand external temperatures as high as 1,400 degrees, but they were never designed to contain the overpressure and the chemically generated heat produced by an internal detonation of an estimated two hundred pounds of C-4 needed to fully destroy the shipment.
Windows of data opened up alongside the neighborhood map of ground zero. These boxes detailed the devastation in the immediacy of present tense:
Twenty-seven vehicles are demolished, their occupants killed outright. I-70’s overpass collapses onto N. Kansas Avenue directly below, producing an additional thirty-eight traffic fatalities.
While there is no actual nuclear yield, there is widespread window, roof, and negligible structural blast damage in residential West Meade, north across the Kansas River to Veteran’s Park. There are shattered high-rise windows as far south as SE Sixth Avenue in downtown Topeka, and all the way out to Ripley Park in the east. Flash fires erupt seemingly everywhere, initiated by falling white-hot debris.
“In powder form thorium nitrate acts as an accelerant in the presence of heat or explosive devices when detonated,” Grim said. “The same way secondary explosions of accumulated dust in air vents spread fire through ships and buildings. Check it out. It’s those secondary explosions that extend the blast area to nearly three miles in diameter.”
Fisher’s mouth began to fall open as he continued reading the data.
Topeka’s first responders are initially overwhelmed, and it will be hours before significant outside assistance can reach the city.
“What about the contamination?” he asked.
“I mentioned this earlier, but here are the technical facts: Thorium nitrate emits radioactive particles that can be breathed in or swallowed or can penetrate the skin. Most of the initial responders won’t be aware that they’re being exposed to ash and dust from a highly toxic chemical.” Grim checked another data window. “If the stuff’s ingested it can reduce the ability of the bone marrow to make blood cells and, in bone, it has a biological half-life of twenty-two years. In all other organs and tissue the biological half-life is about two years. While it’s not as bad as plutonium, it’ll kill you just the same.”
Fisher continued scanning the medical report near the edge of the screen: Acute potential health effects included irritated skin causing a rash or a burning feeling on contact. Ingestion caused nausea, vomiting, dizziness, abdominal cramps, ulceration, and bleeding from the small intestine, as well as bloody diarrhea, weakness, general depression, headache, and mental impairment. Prolonged exposure could affect the liver, kidneys, lungs, and bone marrow, as Grim had mentioned. The stuff was a recognized cancer hazard and could damage the male reproductive glands.
And yet another window illustrated through a powdery white overlay how the blast would spread a fine layer of radioactive particles and debris onto exposed individuals, homes, vehicles, plants, animals, sidewalks, and highways, while a significant amount would fall into the nearby Kansas River, whose waters flowed eastward.