“Throw me two protective gear sets then take them to the emergency center. I’ll find Strobel and meet you there.”
Drake tucked the masks under his arm and ran back through the panicked crowd. Of all the people to create an unnecessary risk for herself, it would have to be Strobel.
By the time he reached the area where he last saw her, she was nowhere in sight. The steps off the back of the platform led to where the Humvees had been parked, but there were no Humvees there now. The remaining dignitaries were lined up and waiting for their return, surrounded by a squad of armed soldiers wearing protective gear. Those standing in line didn’t appear to be frightened, trusting the soldiers who looked like they knew what they were doing.
One woman stood in front of the officer in charge of the loading detail, screaming into his protective mask.
“I don’t care who your commanding officer is, my boss is the Secretary of Homeland Security and I order you to take me to him now!”
The Army captain started to move the woman out of his face when Drake stepped in. “Captain, if you’ll allow me, I’ll escort Ms. Strobel to the emergency center to be with her boss.”
The captain looked through the lens of his protective mask and nodded, as if to say, if you want to deal with this psycho, she’s all yours.
Drake grabbed Strobel by her arm and pulled her away. “This isn’t a drill, so shut up and put this on. The explosion was in K Block. We’ve got to get out of here. The Secretary’s already on his way to the emergency center.”
Liz Strobel glared at him and jerked her arm free of his grasp. “Drake, I hope to hell you know what you’re doing. If anything you’ve done endangers the Secretary, I’ll personally see that you pay for this.”
“Strobel, if any harm comes to the Secretary or the Senator, I guarantee the Secret Service, the JTTF, and you, will never draw another government paycheck. Now put this stuff on, let’s go.”
Chapter 45
As soon as they put on their protective masks and made sure they fit properly around their faces, Drake pulled Strobel away from the platform staging area. He headed across the open area to the visitors’ grandstand. At the rear of the line of buses, he spotted an empty Humvee. The driver was busy helping people load onto a bus, and hadn’t posted security around his vehicle.
Drake slowed to a walk and led Strobel toward the empty Humvee.
“Get into the Humvee and act like you own it. No one is going to pay any attention to us in this, and we’re not going to do anything to change that,” Drake ordered.
When they were seated, they were all but invisible amidst the confusion and movement of other military vehicles and buses. Smoke continued to billow from the bunker area of K Block, and a plume drifted southeast toward the headquarters buildings and the emergency center. As if to accent the threat, all seventy sirens of the Chemical Stockpile Emergency Preparedness Program sounded a steady, repeating, warning tone designed to be heard for miles around.
As he pulled out and joined the line of vehicles headed to the emergency center, Drake saw panic where there should have been practiced calm and efficiency. Ambulances rushed to K Block to take anyone injured to the base contamination station. Vehicles at intersections were left on their own, and buses carrying guests were stranded in the resulting congestion. Such was the terror created by the fear of the nerve agents the depot stored.
Seeing the traffic jam ahead of them, Drake turned the Humvee and headed across the open field toward the emergency center. The protective masks would protect them from any airborne agents, but full-body protection was really needed if they were in the open. A single drop of descending nerve agent on their skin would kill them. If the explosion involved fire, the nerve agents that were viscous, like motor oil, could fall on them from the plume of smoke drifting their way. Drake knew he had to get to the emergency center. He hoped Mike was already there.
The area Drake drove across was rangeland taken over for military use. The Humvee charged across it with all the grace of an Abrams M1A1 main battle tank, bouncing and bucking like a bronco at the nearby Pendleton Roundup. Drake was steadied by his grip on the steering wheel, but Liz Strobel was taking a pounding. She had one hand on the roof over her head and the other grabbing the frame of the seat below.
“Hang on, Liz. We’re almost there,” he said to console her.
When they reached the main base road, Drake threw the Humvee into a slide that carried them to the far side of the paved road. There were other Humvees ahead of them, racing to the emergency center, and he was satisfied to get in line and follow them in.
Outside the emergency center, things were not as focused and disciplined as they should have been. Drake quickly escorted Strobel to the main entrance of the center and was surprised when they weren’t stopped. Drake was carrying his.45 under his jacket, and they were wearing protective masks. The other evacuated guests weren’t. No one searched them, or even seemed to notice as they walked past the guards posted outside.
Once inside, a soldier directed them toward a large room just beyond the exterior blast doors, where guests and dignitaries had gathered. Two security guards were posted at the exterior blast doors, armed with M16s. Inside, no one was wearing a protective mask. Just as he was about to tell Strobel she could take her protective mask off, a soldier approached and said it was safe to remove their protective equipment.
Drake noted there were only three ways out of the emergency center assembly room. In addition to the main entrance, two doors exited from the rear of the room, one on each side. Each was guarded by a security guard armed with a holstered Beretta. He couldn’t tell from inside the cavernous room if there were additional guards outside the rear doors, but he doubted it.
As soon as Strobel took her protective mask off, she stormed away looking for her boss. Drake spotted the Secretary and his father-in-law standing with the depot commander’s aide, Capt. Linda Martinez. While Strobel made like a boat speeding through a no wake zone, oblivious to the disturbance created, Drake turned his attention outside where Mike was stationed as his spotter.
“Mike, what’s going on out there?”
“Lot of people running around. You confirm our party’s inside?”
“Roger that, all safe and sound. The civilian security guards are too relaxed. They look like this is a drill, but the early warning monitors had to signal a nerve agent release for the evacuation to be ordered.”
“If VX is headed this way, the guys out here are also pretty calm. A few still have protective masks on, but no one’s wearing protective suits. You sure they detected a nerve agent release?”
“I just overheard an announcement that detection teams are monitoring the situation. Let me know if anything changes. If it does, come in here,” Drake said.
From where Mike sat in his Yukon, he had a view of the area around the emergency center. Drake knew if the situation worsened, the security guards outside would be among the first warned.
As Drake kept an eye on the inside of the emergency center, he heard Mike signal an alert.
“I’m watching three soldiers headed your way from one of the barracks. They’re wearing full-body protective suits. No one else is wearing a suit. They’re armed and walking like they’re on a mission.”
“What’s changed?” Drake asked.
“Nothing. But these three are carrying M4s with grenade launchers. They look like they’ve just been given some urgent order.”
“Keep them in sight. I’ll see if anything has changed. They could be the guys I was worried about.”
Drake located Capt. Martinez talking to someone and ran to her.
“Sorry to interrupt Captain, could I have a moment?”
“Excuse me, Mayor,” she said, turning to Drake with a look of frustration. “What is it, Mr. Drake? Your father-in-law is fine.”