On board a Gulfstream Six. Altitude 7,300 feet. Airspeed 376 knots. Seventy-three nautical miles west-north-west of New Orleans, Louisiana
Jana put her fingers into her hair. “So how are we supposed to narrow it down?”
Bill said, “I’m getting too old for this shit.”
“Where?” Jana screamed. “Where is he going to hit?”
“That’s anyone’s guess,” Knuckles said. “Looking at it on the map, the fig orchards run for miles. He could hit anywhere along there.”
“We’ve got to find out, and right now. We can’t guess! We have to stop him.”
Cade unbuckled his seatbelt and placed his hands in hers.
“Jana, calm down. We’re all under a lot of stress here.”
Jana’s chest heaved in an effort to vacuum in enough oxygen, and her face began to pale. “And that’s not all,” she said. “It’s misdirection. I’m telling you, he’s purposely misleading us. He’s going to get us off chasing the wind while he detonates a nuclear device somewhere else.”
Her head began to shake, the effect similar to a person with Parkinson’s Disease. “I can’t take this not knowing. I can’t take it!”
Cade grabbed her shoulders. “You need to look me in the eye. Don’t slip away now.” But it was too late, her PTSD went into hyperdrive. Jana’s eyes rolled into the back of her head and her body began convulsing.
“Kyle! Grab her legs! Don’t let her thrash around.”
“What’s going on?” Uncle Bill yelled into the phone. “Is she okay? What’s happening?”
“Jana, stay with us,” Kyle said. “Jana!”
“Dammit, Bill,” Kyle said as he held Jana’s legs, “I told you something like this would happen.”
Cade glared up at him. “What do you mean you told Bill something like this would happen?”
“Look at her, Cade!” Kyle belted. “She’s a danger to herself and a danger to us. She’s going to get someone killed.”
“Screw you, Kyle!”
“Hey!” Uncle Bill yelled across the phone. “You two get ahold of yourselves. We’ve got a man down. Now what’s happening?”
The rigidity began to abate from Jana’s muscles and light started returning to her eyes.
“She’s coming around,” Kyle said. “Listen, let’s take a break. It will be two hours before we touch down. We’ll call you back in a little while, once we get settled. And, Bill?”
“Yes, Kyle.”
“We can talk about this offline.”
“I know what you’re going to say, Kyle,” Bill replied.
“And let’s have a rundown of all the evidence. I mean everything. The evidence hidden inside the bullet and broadhead, the glass beads, everything we’ve got. There’s a pattern here and we’re missing it.”
“Agreed. Talk to you in a bit.” The phone line went dead.
Jana’s color returned to her face and she sat upright.
“You okay?” Cade said. “You scared us there.”
“I’m fine. Dammit, I thought I was past this.”
“It’s the job, Jana. This job is killing you.”
“It’s not the job, Cade. It’s the asshole.”
Kyle scowled. “So you think getting rid of Waseem Jarrah will make your PTSD episodes go away?”
“Bet my life on it.” Jana stared out a port-side window onto a mountain range below, then said, “He’s misleading us.”
“I hear what you’re saying, but we have to go with what we have,” Kyle said.
“I’m with Kyle on this one,” Cade said. “And, Jana, think about it. Let’s say you’re right and we’re being misled. My question would be, what else would we do right now? I mean, if we have absolutely no idea what other direction to take, we have to pursue the leads we currently have. You never know, but I think he’s leading us in the correct direction.”
“Why?” came her whispered reply.
Cade studied her face, then said, “Like you said earlier, he’d want to keep the game close.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Jana said. “But he’s never wanted to keep us close in the past. He’s wanted to send us in the wrong direction. This is the last of his nuclear warheads. He’s already detonated one in the United States, which means he’s accomplished his lifelong goal. If this one doesn’t go off, he’ll be pissed, but he’s always got the first one to look back on.”
But Jana’s thoughts trailed back to her suspicion that Waseem Jarrah was misleading them. In the previous attack, he used a second jihadist as a decoy to carry a backpack containing radioactive material. The material was meant to leave a trail that would be detected by Geiger counters. The entire investigative team, including FBI and NSA, had taken the bait.
The real bomb had been parked half a mile from CIA headquarters. And since the blast radius of the device was one mile in diameter, the entire facility was destroyed. It was a failure of epic proportions and hundreds of thousands of Americans had lost their lives in the process.
“And it’s not just misdirection I’m worried about. Remember what he said? He said he would detonate in the place that would cause the most destruction.”
“Right,” Cade said, “in California. The most destruction in California.”
Jana looked at him but her eyes wandered, as if she was entranced in a thought that would not abate.
Half an hour later they accessed a secure satellite uplink to NSA headquarters and initiated a video conference from the plane with Uncle Bill, Knuckles, and a dozen other analysts.
“All right, Bill,” Jana said, “let’s have a rundown of all known evidence. There’s so many details, and new information you’ve apparently just discovered from the crime lab. We’ve got to piece it together.” Jana cocked her head at Bill. “Bill, what are you smiling at?”
“Oh, nothing. Just thinking about the first time I met you.”
“And?”
“That was a green FBI agent, full of fire and vinegar, eager to prove herself.”
“I’m not sure I want to hear the rest of that thought. And now?”
“Now, a leader. Still full of fire and vinegar, of course.”
“Thanks, Bill, I think,” Jana said as she laughed. “Knuckles, are you doing the briefing?”
“Yes, ma’am. I mean, yes Jana. Okay, on the monitor I’ve listed the evidence we’ve collected so far. Number one. Director Latent was killed with a crossbow. The broadhead on the arrow that killed him had been hollowed out and filled with the pulp of a fig.” He repeated what Uncle Bill had already told them about the figs. “We did further analysis and determined that this particular fig came from the California orchards, not from the Middle East.”
“Thanks for the recap, professor,” Cade said.
“Wait,” Jana said, “how do you know? How do you know the fig in question came from California?”
“The lab doesn’t lie. Pesticide residue, pH of the soil, salinity, pollen grains, and pollutants. They all are a spot-on match to this region right here,” Knuckles said as he pointed at a spot on the map of California. “Although this species of fig can be grown in most of the state, these soil properties are a match for this region, just outside of San Francisco and San Jose.”
“Wait,” Kyle said, “are you thinking he’s going to target San Francisco?”
Uncle Bill said, “People, let’s stay on point. We need to see all the evidence in total before we rush to judgment on where the next target might be.”
“As I was saying,” Knuckles said, “the lab has pinpointed the region where that fig was grown. It might be significant, it might not. But let’s not forget, we also recovered a glass bead at the scene. This one contained a tiny figurine of a man riding a horse and carrying a bow. Now the bow might signify something, or it might just be that Director Latent was assassinated with a bow—we don’t know.”
Jana rubbed the uppermost bullet scar on her torso and her eyes took on a distant gaze. She was entranced in a memory. “Oh, it means something.”
“Number two. Jana’s friend Gilda. Gilda von Horscht. Ms. von Horscht was killed in Spain, stabbed through the heart with a sword. We believe the killer was Waseem Jarrah himself. A glass bead was found embedded in the chest cavity. The bead also contained a tiny figurine of a man riding a horse. This horseman was carrying a sword. Again, the sword could be significant in that Miss von Horscht was murdered with a sword, or maybe not.”
Bill glanced at Jana then cleared his throat. “No need to be so graphic, son.”
“Sorry,” Knuckles muttered.
“And what else have you found about this one?” Kyle said.
“There was something else found inside the body cavity of Miss von Horscht.”
Jana crossed her arms and sat down.
“It was a leaf, a fig leaf. Soil toxins, pesticides, pH level, everything is a match to the exact fig found inside the broadhead at Director Latent’s assassination.” He continued. “The leaf was also covered in a powder. The lab says it’s Chicorium intybus, roasted chicory root.”
Jana’s hand moved to her forehead. “Chicory. New Orleans. Shit, he telegraphed he was going to that area for his next murder by leaving us evidence that pointed in that direction.”
“I don’t get that one,” Cade said. “What’s roasted chicory root used for? And what’s that got to do with New Orleans?”
It was Jana who answered. “When I was a kid at Christmas, Willy Chalmette would bring my mom a can of chicory coffee from New Orleans. In fact, when I was little, Mom took me there one time, to the French Quarter. There’s a place called Café du Monde. It’s old and really famous for chicory coffee and beignets. And before you ask me what those are, they’re like a fried pastry covered in powdered sugar. They’re heaven in your mouth is what they are. Anyway, I always remembered the cafe because Willy pointed out this busboy to us. He was this little old man cleaning tables. Willy said he could remember the same guy having worked there from thirty years ago.”
Knuckles shifted in his seat. He had found more information about chicory and looked as though it would erupt from him if he did not start speaking soon. “Chicory was grown in France. In the early 1800s, when Napolean initiated a blockade, the French were deprived of their coffee imports, and turned to roasted chicory as a substitute. When the blockade finally ended, people has become accustomed to the taste and continued using it. Other areas of French influence, like New Orleans, continued as well.”
“Again,” Cade said, “thanks, professor. Is there anything else, not related to chicory, that might help us?”
“The sword used to kill Miss von Horscht may be significant. The Spanish secret service says the wounds inflicted on Miss Gilda are a direct match to a sword recently stolen from the Museo Nacional del Prado, the largest museum in Spain. The sword, and a knife that was also stolen, were believed to date back to the time of Mohammad and the prophets. In fact, both objects are believed to have been owned by the Prophet Mohammad himself.”
“Hold on a minute, professor,” Cade said. “You’re telling me the sword that was used to kill Gilda was actually owned by Mohammad? As in the Koran’s Prophet Mohammad?”
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you. Here’s what we know about it. It, in particular, is said to be one of the original nine swords that Mohammad owned. The other eight are in museums as well. This one is known as Al-Battar, apparently taken by Muhammad as booty from the Banu Qaynaqa, one of the three main Jewish tribes living in seventh-century Medina, modern-day Saudi Arabia. This one is called the ‘sword of the prophets’ and is inscribed in Arabic with the names of several key players in the Bible. David, Solomon, Moses, Aaron, Joshua, Zechariah, John, Muhammad himself, and,” Knuckles paused a moment, “Jesus.”
Jana turned her head toward the monitor. “Jarrah killed Gilda with a sword that has the name of Jesus on it?”
“There’s more.”
“Go on,” Jana said.
“It’s the only one of the original nine swords that wasn’t housed in a museum that sits in an Islamic country.”
Uncle Bill nodded. “Perhaps Jarrah was pissed off that the historic sword belonged in his homeland in the first place. And perhaps the origin or timeframe of the sword has significance as well.”
“Why does Knuckles look like he’s not done talking about the sword?” Jana said.
Knuckles exhaled. “This particular sword is claimed by some to be the actual sword that Jesus will use when he returns to earth to defeat the Antichrist.”
“The sword Jesus will use?” Jana let the thought play forward in her mind. “Jarrah murdered Gilda with a sword Mohammad stole from the Jews, that will one day be used by Jesus when he returns? He’s laughing at us.”
Cade said, “He knows we’ll find these details. Jarrah went to an enormous amount of trouble to set this up.”
Jana said, “I’m telling you. He’s laughing at us, and he’s spitting on Christianity. Now tell me that the figurines of horsemen don’t have significance.”
“No argument here,” Uncle Bill said. “Let’s get to the other evidence.”
“Third. Sheriff Will Chalmette, assassinated in Louisiana, in Saint Tammany Parish, just north of New Orleans. The sheriff was killed with a sniper rifle. The bullet that killed him was never recovered, but the first round fired struck a semi-trailer and killed the driver. It was recovered. The base of the bullet was found to be hollowed out, similarly to the broadhead. Inside was a strange concoction of items: wheat, barley, oil, wine, and a single flea. Chemical residue from each of these are all traceable back to exactly where they were grown and produced. Except the flea, of course.”
Jana wrapped her arms around her torso and she rocked back and forth.
Cade watched, fearing another post-traumatic stress episode might ensue at any moment.
“What’s the flea supposed to mean?” Jana said.
“Wait,” Kyle said, “all four of the items were grown in the same place?”
Knuckles pointed back to the map of California. “Same region as the fig orchards. Same soil contaminants, pollutants, everything.”
“He’s got to be telegraphing his intent,” Uncle Bill said. “He’s going to target this area.”
Jana again repeated, this time in a whisper, “He’s misleading us.”
“Well, he’s going to an awful lot of trouble to point us here. The soil-toxin profile on all four items points to crops grown right here, not far from San Francisco. The figs, wheat, and barley, the olives, and even the grapes used to produce the wine were all grown right here.”
“You could be right,” Kyle said, “and I hear what you’re saying about trace elements found in the soil, but all this stuff points back to the Middle East as well. Think about it. Everything so far could symbolize that region.”
“But there’s one more thing that points Sheriff Chalmette’s murder to San Francisco,” Knuckles said. “The bullet itself had traces of something else on it. Chlorophyll, chlorophyll from the leaf of a plant, a fig plant. The same fig plant.”
“Drawing us away,” Jana whispered.
“What did you say?” Cade said as he put his hand on her shoulder. There was no reply. “Jana, you’re shaking like a leaf. Stand up, maybe it will help if you move around a little bit.”
Knuckles continued. “And the glass bead found at the scene was a little different as well. The bead was coated in sulfuric acid, apparently used to cover any trace evidence on its surface. This one contained a figurine of a man riding a horse, but this time, the horseman wasn’t carrying any weapon. He was carrying a set of what appear to be scales. We’re assuming at this point they represent the scales of justice.”
Jana stood but her shoulders rounded over. “Why would he bother with the sulfuric acid?”
“What do you mean, Jana?” Kyle said. “He’s covering any trace evidence that we might have found on the exterior of the glass beads.”
“That’s my point. Why bother with that when you’re telegraphing exactly where you want us to go? He’s placing figs and wasps and olive oil and all kinds of shit right in our hands for us to analyze. Those things are pointing us to California. And then there’s the other things, the stone from the Camino trail, the chicory coating everything found in Gilda, and now this flea. One set of evidence is pointing us to California, the other set points from one murder victim to the next. Then there’s the glass beads. I still don’t know what they point to. So why bother covering up trace evidence?”
“I hadn’t considered that,” Bill said as his fingers found their way into the depths of his beard. “Anyone care to advance a theory?”
Even Knuckles looked like a lost puppy. At last, Jana looked directly into the monitor. “We’re forgetting about the other assassin. We knew Jarrah must have had help. After all, Stephen Latent was assassinated at the same time Jarrah was with me in Spain.” Her eyes trailed off, out one of the airplane windows. “When he murdered Gilda and stuffed a glass bead and a fig leaf into her chest.” She knelt to the floor and continued squeezing her arms around herself as she rocked back and forth.
Cade knelt with her.
“The assassin,” Bill said. “The assassin was covering his tracks, not Jarrah’s. The assassin wouldn’t want anything to trace back to him. That’s why he used the sulfuric acid.”
“Well,” Knuckles said, “we know nothing of him. Nothing. And even that is an assumption. Calling him a him, I mean.”
“He’d be a contractor,” Kyle said. “A hired gun with the kind of connections to be in association with Waseem Jarrah.”
“There was that one guy from the last time,” Cade said. “Remember? When the investigation trailed the source of the nuclear weapon that detonated at CIA. There was mention of a contractor Jarrah had likely used. His name was Rafael.”
“Right,” Knuckles said. “Rafael. More of a ghost than anything else. There’s not even a photo of him. We don’t even know if he’s real.”
“He’s got to be real,” Uncle Bill said. “Even if our intel is wrong on his name, there was definitely a contractor involved last year in transporting the suicide bomber and two nuclear warheads. One of the bombs was shipped to North Korea, and the most likely originator of that shipment was a contractor known only as Rafael.”
Jana said, “So that’s it, three dead people, three separate sets of clues. Bill, how are we going to know when he’s finished?”
Bill looked over his glasses. “Finished? You mean finished giving us evidence?”
Jana nodded her head. “There would have to be a start and a finish. It would lead us right up to his main event, whatever Jarrah has planned. How are we supposed to know if he has finished delivering evidence to us?”
Kyle added, “Evidence in the form of fresh bodies.”
“Well,” Knuckles said, “we’ve got a lot to work with here. Three assassinations, three glass beads, all with a figurine of a horse with a rider, carrying something. I guess I’m saying I don’t know when we will know if he’s finished.”
Through the video monitor, the trio watched as a woman in the NSA command center with soft brunette hair walked toward Uncle Bill. “Sir, I think you should look at this,” she said.
Bill studied the paper, then rubbed his eyes. “Not three assassinations, four. This one out of Atlanta. It looks like he’s taken out the director of the Center for Disease Control.”
“What?” Jana yelled.
Bill flustered. “The director of the CDC was apparently murdered. Don’t shoot the messenger.”
A flood of emotions overwhelmed Jana and she began to sob. “I can’t take it anymore. I can’t take it.”
Cade held onto her. “Jana, what’s wrong? Do you know the director of the CDC?”
“Kathy. Her name is Kathy Whelan.” She shook her head then choked out, “She was my mom’s college roommate. I remember her coming to the house a lot when I was a kid. But it was later, after mom died, that I remember her most. She and mom were really close. My mom’s passing devastated her. After that, Aunt Kathy, as I used to call her, kind of looked after me. My grandmother had passed away and I had no women in my life. She did her best to fill that gap. She even loaned me the money to go to college. I didn’t finish paying her back until about the time I went to training at Quantico.”
No one spoke as they all tried to comprehend the enormity of Jana’s losses.
“I am going to kill him,” Jana whispered.
Bill looked back at the paper. “No gunshot wounds, knife wounds, or anything else that looks like violence. No apparent cause of death.”
Knuckles walked to him. “The director of the CDC? I know she’s connected to Jana, but how do we know this is related, or even a murder, for that matter?”
“Because of this,” Bill said as he turned the paper toward the video monitor. It was a close-up image of a small glass bead. The image was detailed enough to clearly depict the figurine of a man riding a horse. In his hand, the rider carried a sickle. “We may not know how she died just yet, but I’m pretty sure we’ll find out soon enough. And to Jana’s point, I’m betting it has something to do with the flea found at the sheriff’s murder scene. That’s the one clue that hasn’t fit yet.”
“That’s four,” Knuckles said as he rubbed his neck. “Four people assassinated, four glass beads. All of them with a guy riding a horse. Now what the hell are these damned horsemen supposed to mean?” Knuckles began to pace the floor and speak to himself, entranced in a line of thought. “It’s got to have a lot to do with the beads. But not the beads so much, the guys riding horses. So what do we know about that? Four horses, four men riding them. Each carrying something. Four horsemen.”
Jana sat upright. “Say that again.”
“Say what? Which part?”
“You said horsemen. Four horsemen.” Jana stood. “Were all the horses different colors?”
Knuckles scowled at the monitor. “Different colors? What does that matter?”
“Were they?” Jana was almost yelling.
“Yes, each horse was a different color, so what?”
“What were the colors of the horses?”
“I don’t see what that has to do with—”
“Tell me!” Jana screamed.
“All right, well, yes. Let me look at the evidence sheets again. The first horse at Director Latent’s crime scene was white. The second, found inside of Gilda’s body, hold on, where is that one? Okay, yes. The second horse was red. The third one, found at the scene with the sheriff in Louisiana, that horse was black. This last one—”
Jana said, “Let me guess. The fourth horse, found at the scene of Kathy’s murder, that one was pale white, or possibly pale green, am I right?”
“Pale green.” Knuckles stared at her. “How did you know that?”
“And there were dead rats or mice at the murder scene, weren’t there? Some kind of rodents?”
“Yes, Miss Baker,” Uncle Bill said as he read the evidence report in his hand. “There were several dead rats found at the scene. They don’t know what that means. I’d be very interested to know how you knew that.”
Jana closed her eyes and her voice became monotone. “The apocalypse. The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. It’s from the Bible, the book of Revelations. Pale green was supposed to symbolize the putrid color of death. Each glass bead contains one of the four horseman of the apocalypse. Dammit, why didn’t I think of this earlier? And the rodents. Pestilence. I’d bet anything they find some disease or plague to be the cause of death, and it was probably transmitted by fleas. Remember how Jarrah asked me if I went to church as a child? He’s taunting us. He’s taunting us with our Christian Bible.” She looked at the others. “None of you ever studied the Bible? Look, my grandfather taught Sunday school. The book of Revelations is the last chapter in the Bible. It foretells of the end of the world. The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse are unsealed to more or less announce the coming of the end of the world, each bringing with it a different type of death. Jarrah assassinated these four people in four separate ways, each corresponding to one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse. He’s finished. Jarrah is finished giving us evidence. There were only four horsemen in the Bible. We have to piece it all together and figure out what it means, before it’s too late. He’s ready to start his final act right now.”
Kyle slumped into a chair. “You’re right. My God, you’re right. When I was a kid we learned about it in Sunday school, but you hardly ever hear about the book of Revelations in church anymore.”
“Don’t look at me,” Cade said. “I never went to church as a kid.”
“But, Jana,” Kyle said. “Even though there were only four horsemen, they all had symbolic meanings. Each of the Four Horsemen was released one at a time, as Jesus opened another seal. The opening of the seals announces the end of the world, but they were foretelling how it would happen. Hold on, let me pull up the Bible passage in the YouVersion app on my phone. Okay, here it is, Revelations 6.”
Kyle read from the passage. “‘When he opened the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth living creature say, “Come!”’ . . . ” Kyle looked up. “Jana, Jarrah said that to you on the phone.” He continued. “‘And I looked, and behold, a pale horse! And its rider’s name was Death, and Hades followed him. And they were given authority over a fourth of the earth, to kill with sword and with famine and with pestilence and by wild beasts of the earth.’”
Jana said, “Pestilence. The fourth horseman’s name was Death. How very appropriate, coming from Jarrah.”
“‘And hell followed him,’” Kyle added. “Jarrah wants to send us all to hell.”
“To kill with a sword,” Knuckles said. “Jarrah killed Jana’s friend with a sword.”
Bill scratched his chin through his beard. “To kill with a sword, famine, pestilence, and beasts of the earth. Perhaps we have all that to look forward to.”
Kyle read further. “When the fifth seal opens, it mentions an altar, filled with the souls of those who had been slain for the word of God.”
“Yeah,” Jana said, “these were souls that were martyred for God. They want their revenge but are told to wait because more martyrs will come, and then their numbers will be right.”
“Perhaps Jarrah is stacking up the bodies of martyrs,” Knuckles said. “In his mind, the numbers will then be right.”
“There were four horsemen, but a total of seven seals, right?” Uncle Bill said. “What about the other seals, Kyle?”
Kyle read, “‘When he opened the sixth seal, I looked, and behold, there was a great earthquake, and the sun became black as sackcloth, the full moon became like blood, the stars of the sky fell to the earth as the fig tree sheds its winter fruit when shaken by a gale.’”
“There’s the fig tree,” Jana said. “And it specifically says an earthquake.”
Kyle continued. “‘The sky vanished like a scroll that is being rolled up, and every mountain and island was removed from its place.’” He looked up. “Listen to this part. ‘Then the kings of the earth and the great ones and the generals and the rich and the powerful, and everyone, slave and free, hid themselves in the caves and among the rocks of the mountains.’”
“Jarrah would love that,” Bill said. “Making us and our leaders hide in fear.”
“The seventh seal opens with silence,” Kyle said. “Then more destruction. The end of times as we know it.”
“The detonation must be what Jarrah would consider the seventh seal,” Jana said.
“Uncle Bill?” Knuckles said. “I’m looking at a corresponding passage in the Koran. It says a lot of the same things. It sounds like the Bible and the Koran agree about the end of the world.”
“Okay,” Uncle Bill said, “let’s start working down this path. I want everyone to break out a Bible and go through it. And look up any hidden meanings to anything related to these horsemen. But that’s not all, we’ve still got all these other clues that are pointing us to the San Francisco area. What is he telegraphing? Remember, he’s got one nuclear device left. If he detonates inside of San Francisco, and we could’ve stopped it, I’ll never forgive myself. We’ve got to know where and when he intends to detonate.”
Jana looked at Knuckles. “The nuclear device? The ones Jarrah has his hands on. Does it have the same blast radius as the one that took out CIA?”
Knuckles answered, “Yes. All ten original warheads came out of a single Russian ballistic missile. Each has a blast radius of one mile. It would cause utter devastation in downtown San Francisco.”
“Okay,” Bill said. “You’ll be in the air for a while. Let’s regroup in an hour. Let me get my people working on it on our end.”
“All right, Bill. Talk to you in a bit.” Jana disconnected the video call.
“I just . . .” Jana paused as she looked at Cade. “I don’t think Jarrah would stop at that. Think about it, this is his last nuclear device. Detonating inside downtown San Francisco wouldn’t be enough for him. It’s devastation, sure, but it’s not enough. How is he going to black out the sky and make the moon look like blood by destroying San Francisco? We not only have to know when he’s going to detonate but I still say we’ve got to determine where.We need to think about what would be the best place to detonate. Like he said, the place that would cause the most destruction and death.”
“More death than would occur from the blast radius itself?” Kyle said.
“Yes. He’d want to detonate in such a way that the blast would be magnified.”
“I’m not sure I follow,” Cade said.
“I don’t know. I think I’ve been inside his head for too long. It’s starting to get to me. Hey, bring up that map of California that Knuckles was looking at. What else could he hit in that area near San Francisco, where all of those pieces of evidence, the grapes, olive oil, wheat, figs, all that, were grown. Is there anything out there? Any target? I know the entire area is heavily populated, but what are we missing? Where could he detonate and get a magnified effect?”
They all studied the map.
“Well,” Cade said, “there are a lot of strips of farmland. These look like grape orchards, and the figs, those are only grown in a tight region. They grow in this area here.”
“What’s that line running north-south on the map?” Kyle asked. “It borders the whole area we’re talking about. Is that a river?”
“Oh my God,” Jana said as her eyes widened. “That’s no river. That’s the San Andreas Fault line.”