Portable mortar fire began to rain down around the police force. Thank god the enemy had made a small miscalculation, and the initial shells were landing twenty meters behind the law enforcement positions. It was only a matter of time before they realized the error, and the mortar rounds would begin decimating the troops.
The SWAT commander and Gunner had stayed close to each other during the fight. Now the commander turned to Gunner.
"Any idea how we get out of here with our skins?"
"Can we get some people behind them… along the runway?"
"I’ve already tried sending some men to do just that. But the taxiways have trip wires that set off grenades. And as soon as anyone clears the buildings and heads toward the runway, they’re sitting ducks for the Kalashnikovs. It would take too long to send personnel all the way around the runway outside enemy firing range. I’m afraid that’s just not an option."
Gunner was silent, trying to envision a path to salvation.
CHAPTER 55
As soon as I heard the first engine start, I knew I could move around without fear of being heard. If I could act quickly enough, maybe I could get to the pilot before takeoff and still avoid the risk to the plant. The noise in here was deafening, but I didn’t dare wear sound protection for fear of missing something crucial.
Moving off my backside and onto my knees, I hooked the Beretta on my belt. Next I reached for, and found, the tangle of wire I had placed around the interior latch as a lock. The wire unwound smoothly. I rotated the latch counter-clockwise a quarter turn. With the hatch barely open, I scanned for enemies in the aft cabin. It was very dark, but I saw no one.
Suddenly the air seemed drenched in chemicals. I had been spared the odor while isolated in the bay. The fluid in which the potassium had been submerged was definitely mineral oil. I knew the smell. Unclarified mineral oil smells like burning lubricant — the same sort of smell you get if you drip motor oil on a hot engine. The odor was overpowering.
Ignoring the stench, I rolled the hatchway door the rest of the way open, and slowly pulled myself up from the darkness of the bomb bay, into the darkness of the aft cabin. From there, I carefully made my way up the ladder to the central crawlway and peeked over its edge. I would have to climb higher to see the pilot over the containers. I worked my way farther up until the cockpit was barely visible.
From this vantage point, I could occasionally see a silhouette of the pilot’s right arm as it moved to push buttons or flip switches — part of the startup procedure. The rest of the pilot’s body was obscured by the thick metal portside bulkhead. The bulkhead was too thick for my Beretta to penetrate. The only way I could possibly get a shot at the pilot was to climb over all the containers, which completely clogged the crawlway.
There wasn’t enough space for me to go over the containers. I didn’t have time to move them, one at a time, as I worked my way forward. And if the pilot happened to look back while I was in the middle of the pack of containers, I would be stuck, unable to move in any direction — a sitting duck.
As much as I would have liked to end this whole operation quickly, an attempt right now would have been foolhardy, rather than brave. Again, I would have to wait.
I thought I heard sounds outside. But the reverberations of the engines in the empty plane kept me from telling what they were. I hoped the posse had arrived. If so, I should stay low and try not to get shot.
I climbed back down the ladder and flattened myself on the floor of the aft compartment. Whether help had come or not, this was where I needed to be right now.
CHAPTER 56
The Plant Manager had just gotten off the phone with the Army Corp of Engineers.
The Ottawa County Sheriff’s Department and the Red Wing Police had been receiving calls from residents of low-lying properties along the Mississippi. Citizens were reporting flood waters in their basements. Local law enforcement had done their job and forwarded the issue along to the Army Corp.
The only conclusion the Corp could come to was that there had been a catastrophic failure at Lock and Dam Number 3. The Corp was sending out a helicopter in an attempt to better assess the situation.
The Plant Manager relayed the news to the NRC inspector.
NRC: "What’s the river level now?"
Operator: "Down six feet and still dropping."
Plant Manager: "Bring the backup cooling system online." He was talking to the Operator. "Just to be safe," he said to NRC.
The Operator approached a panel containing a circuit breaker labeled: ‘Backup Cooling Water Pump.’ He pulled the breaker into the ‘On’ position. A green light illuminated. The backup pump had started.
Plant Manager: "Even if the river keeps dropping, we get our backup cooling water from an artesian well. Five hundred feet deep," he said, to no one in particular. Everyone in the room already knew that. The Manager was starting to come unglued.
An alarm bell sounded in the control room.
"Now what?" The Manager was getting hysterical.
Operator: "I’ve got a red light on the backup pump temperature. It’s overheating."
Plant Manager: "Check the damn water flow rate!"
Operator: "Sir. The flow rate shows zero at the well head. Sir, we need to shut down the pump before it burns out. "
Plant Manager: No response.
NRC: "Shut it down."
The Operator flipped the breaker to the ‘Off’ position. The red light went out.
The Operator called the maintenance supervisor on his walkie.
Operator: "We’ve got a main pump overheat on the backup cooling water system. And the flow meter shows zero. Fix it… now!"
The maintenance department head sent two men immediately to the pump house. As soon as they got there, they could see the problem.
Maintenance: "The main water valve is closed. Do we have permission to open it?"
Operator: "Are you sure? My board shows that valve as ‘Open.’"
Maintenance: "Sir, I’m standing right next to the valve. It is closed."
Operator: "Yes. You have my permission. Open it immediately."
Maintenance: "Yessir!"
As soon as the two maintenance men grasped the wheel to open the valve, they discovered another problem.
Maintenance: "Sir?"
Operator: "Now what?"
Maintenance: "Sir, someone has cut the valve stem inside the bonnet. We tried to turn the valve open and the whole wheel and stem came out in our hands."
The Plant Manager had heard everything. This can’t be possible, he thought. Both cooling systems can’t fail at the same time.
Plant Manager: "What the hell is going on?"
NRC: "Isn’t it obvious? Your plant is under attack! I will notify the FBI immediately. If we have a spent fuel pool incident right now, we are in serious trouble. Change your security alert status to ‘Red.’ Send out security personnel to clear a larger perimeter around the plant. And tell air defense to shoot down any aircraft within a one-mile radius."
NRC picked up his cell and speed-dialed the FBI liaison. He explained the situation and requested that the FBI deploy the fighter jet from St. Paul.
FBI: "We can’t do that, I’m afraid. We sent it back to Duluth Air Base at 21:00 hours. We were told the air show was over."
NRC: "Well, get whoever and whatever you can down here right now. WE ARE UNDER ATTACK!" NRC ended the call.
NRC: "I hope to hell that paranoid lawyer from Red Wing wasn’t right." It was said to no one in particular. "‘Cause if he was… we’re all seriously screwed!"
Just then, the Plant Manager’s radio went on.
Air Controclass="underline" "Sir. Air Control. We’ve just picked up an aircraft departing Red Wing Airport."