Good luck Ryan, wherever you are. I hope you find the peace of mind you so desperately crave.
TWENTY-TWO
San Jose, California
22:00 HOURS
Richard Kilmer grabbed the rubber stress-ball he kept handy below his computer monitor and threw it forcefully across the room. It slammed against the opposite wall and skidded past his faithful dog, Kiwi-a Jack Russell terrier-who delightedly ran after the bouncing ball.
Kilmer shoved himself back from the desk and stared menacingly at the pad containing the notes he had just scribbled. The news from Dallas Weaver about the difficulty Aldin Mills encountered with the Quantum equations was not welcome. He could feel his blood pressure rising at the thought of calling Holloway, figuring the situation would send the man ballistic. Most troubling was that he had previously assured Holloway that Conrad’s equations were the last step to making the antigravity machine work. This was an even bigger problem now, because Holloway had insisted he not pay for the job until he was certain the device worked. Now Kilmer had to admit that his guarantee was premature.
Aside from this complication, Kilmer perceived several scenarios that could potentially complicate the upcoming missions. First, he had no time to redirect his attention to anything but the Livermore job. The simplest solution was to kidnap Dr. Jarrod Conrad and force him to operate the machine, but he couldn’t divert any of his present team to this assignment. There were other members available, but none with the forte for this type of problem. The only choice was Stuart Farley, but he was a wildcard: unpredictable, unmanageable, and bloodthirsty. Farley oftentimes created more problems than he solved; although his work on Marshall’s crane at Taos was done with remarkable efficiency. Farley had been irked that the crane hadn’t collapsed as planned, but he accomplished the end result: Marshall took the bait that his cousin was the perpetrator. But all things considered, Farley was much too unpredictable for anything beyond his specialty-murder by a wide variety of spectacular and stomach-turning means. Kilmer was reluctant to use him for anything else.
Second, if they did nab Conrad, there was the added difficulty of confining the professor until the device was ready to activate; and, once kidnapped, he could never be released. This new development couldn’t have come at a more inopportune time. The whole situation reeked of incompetence. This was exactly why he had asked Weaver to be absolutely certain the machine was functional before he contacted Holloway. Damn him, he thought.
He didn’t have any time to deal with this new situation. He knew he should contact Holloway, but the men would be meeting in less than two hours to study the Livermore job and he didn’t want the hangover from another ugly exchange. He decided to wait until later to contact Holloway.
At precisely 22:00 hours, just as Kilmer had stipulated, the team convened for the briefing on the Lawrence Livermore Lab mission. Each member arrived before the appointed hour, following the team maxim that arriving on time was considered fifteen minutes late by Kilmer. It was far better to be punctual than risk drawing certain reproach from the predictable Aussie.
The men gathered around the conference table, and began discussing the detailed satellite image displayed on the ten-foot-wide video screen in the meeting room. There were distinct white arrows that Dallas Weaver had superimposed on the aerial image, isolating different angles of the entrance, water tower, electrical substation, and containment building along the periphery of the screen. The men offered various opinions about how the initial breach would occur, several expressing doubts about the probability of success. Their mood was somber, most shaking their heads and agreeing that whichever course was taken would involve a lethal gun battle. Thor-Stark’s M24 sniper weapons system-loomed large in the men’s very survival.
“Hey, Dallas…you’ve probably figured the odds on surviving this bloodbath. What’s your best guess on Stark taking out the security team before we get slaughtered?” Rafie asked, directing his question more to the entire group, even though it was addressed to Weaver. “There are too many cover locations for these guys once the shooting starts.”
“How the hell should I know?” Weaver replied to Rafie, who everyone considered Kilmer’s equal when it came to planning covert operations. “You taught the Berets this stuff…why don’t you handicap the odds for us? I agree, it doesn’t look easy, but I’m sure boss has a plan.”
Kilmer was just entering the room and caught the last of the exchange between Weaver and Rafie. He was irritated by the grumbling that greeted him, noticing that Sully Metusack was the only one not already critiquing the operation before he laid it out. Kilmer knew it was obvious from looking at the aerial photo that the target was going to be difficult to breach, but he was prepared to address all their questions.
“G’day, mates. Righto…listen up,” Kilmer said, raising his arms and signaling the men to order. “Here’s the deal,” he began, pointing his laser light at the containment area in the southwest quadrant of the image.
“This is the Lawrence Livermore Lab containment buildin’. The lab has a fusion research program usin’ enriched nuclear fuel for testin’. Our mission is to nick twenty pounds of enriched plutonium, and return without a casualty. Once we’re on site, I guestimate fifteen minutes to pull the job after the first shot’s fired; any longer and we’ll square off with local cops. That’ll turn bloody. We roll t’morrow evening at 01:30 hours. It’s dicey, but the plan for this heist will keep yer balls intact.”
The men sat in perfect silence as they listened to Kilmer lay out the logistics of the mission. Most took notes as he proceeded to fully define the expected role of each team member.
“Starkovich, Metusack, and Krilenko are first in. Stark’ll deploy the M24 from this tower here,” he said, shining the laser light on the water tower at the east end of the Livermore complex. “Tooz will give Stark a leg up with ‘is sniper equipment; Ivan, yer the cover as they climb the tower. When Stark’s peachy, both Tooz and Ivan retreat to this mid-point location here,” he said, shining the laser on the screen. He highlighted a centrally located crossroads equidistant between the main entrance to the facility and what served as the back exit. “Yer to mow down security from this location; lethal force against any resistance.”
Kilmer shifted his attention to the next objective. “Nuzam and Ventura will blow the power substation, here,” he said, pointing the laser. The substation was presented on the screen from a couple of vantage points, which allowed Terry Ventura to estimate the correct amount of C4 explosive to use without causing unnecessary damage. He wasn’t called “Surgeon” for nothing.
“Rafie, ya tee up the back story,” Kilmer continued, “so scrounge anythin’ that fingers a terrorist group for the breach. Use the tower, substation, and containment center to give ‘er a whirl,” he said, highlighting each of these spots. “When our mates kill the lights, Colt’ll blast through the main gate and drive directly to the containment buildin’.”
Kilmer noticed that Rafie’s body language was anything but supportive. He looked doubtful, with his arms crossed, but slowly nodded his head.
“Stark, ya’ll be goin’ like a blue ass fly when the substation blows,” Kilmer continued, “but shoot the guards at the main gate first. Colt, when ya see the guards drop head for the main gate at ramming speed. Good oh?”
Colt nodded his understanding.
Kilmer switched focus again, magnifying the main entrance of the containment building on the video screen. “Terry, have a gander at this door here. We’ll need a Simtex shape charge. Good for us the containment room is bunkered thirty feet under ground, but we can’t chance damagin’ the elevator or, worse, releasin’ any radioactivity…so be spot on, pally.”