Danya removed the MP5, spare magazines, radio, and folding knife from Charlie’s dead body. Fearing that she could be discovered at any moment, she needed to move. But to where? The clear decision was back to the barracks. She knew that many hostages were being held within the large building, including Toby.
Maintaining a low crouch to avoid presenting her profile above the lip of the parade ground, she darted toward the building. She was exposed to observation by anyone in the cell house, but she hoped they were occupied watching their prisoners, rather than gazing outward.
Her training by Mossad had included military and guerilla tactics for house-to-house fighting, and a principle of those lessons was to fight from top to bottom, if possible. In urban combat, whoever occupied the upper floors had significant advantages over an opposing force on lower floors. The question was, how to gain access to the top floor of the barracks without being seen or heard.
She was still dashing toward the building when an idea came to mind.
The barracks was a huge, five-story structure—nearly as large as the cell house—and shaped like the letter L. The longest portion paralleled the ferry dock, with a short wing that stopped where the terrain rose steeply to the flat parade grounds. She slid down the slope to the building, using the natural vegetation to remain hidden from view of the terrorists working below in the courtyard adjoining the dock.
At the third and fourth floors, the barracks building was wrapped with a continuous deck, so narrow that it appeared more like a walkway. Pillars stretching between the third and fourth floors joined the decking. A row of tall windows, each about three-feet wide, and spaced five feet apart, provided for an abundance of light and fresh air at each level.
At the corner, a large drainpipe funneled rainwater from the roof to the ground. She rapped her knuckles against the pipe. It felt sturdy, and the black color with streaks of rust suggested it was made of cast iron. Should be strong enough. Assuming there aren’t any cracks.
With the MP5 slung over her head and shoulder, she grasped the drainpipe and started climbing. The rough and weathered iron abraded her hands like she was gripping sandpaper. At least it wasn’t slippery. She squeezed with her thighs, and her boots also achieved a solid hold, helping to propel her upward in short order. She completed the twenty-foot climb to the third floor in about a minute, and hoisted herself onto the narrow deck.
So far, she hadn’t been seen. But now she was more exposed to observation from the cell house, given her elevated position.
She drew the knife, and with her free hand, started checking the windows. The first one was locked. She moved to the next—also locked. But at the third window, her luck changed, and the sash rose smoothly.
Not seeing anyone in the room, she climbed through the opening and closed the window, careful not to make a sound. The ten-foot ceiling made the room feel larger than its actual size. The floor was covered with stained oak boards, and wide molding trimmed the door and window. It appeared to be an office. A plain metal desk sat to one side, and cardboard file boxes were stacked against a wall next to two four-drawer metal file cabinets. Above the dark-wood door was a closed transom window.
Slowly, she turned the antique doorknob and cracked the door open just enough to peek outside. She glimpsed a wide hall covered in worn carpet. Empty. She opened the door wider and saw many closed doors on both sides of the hall. To the left, the passage ended, but it extended to the right and turned a corner.
She edged out of the office and unlimbered the MP5 submachine gun, raising the buttstock to her shoulder. With her back hugging the wall, she listened for a half-minute.
Silence.
Drawing in a deep breath, she advanced toward the end of the hallway.
s
The trio crossed the courtyard and stopped about thirty paces from Vernon. He had just removed the hood of his protective garment and laid it on the ground. The suit was silver and bulky, resembling a fire-resistant suit. With the hood on, it covered his body from head to toe. He peeled off the rest of the heavy clothing.
“What is he wearing?” Toby said.
“It’s a lead-lined suit,” Sacheen replied.
Toby was familiar with lead aprons used in the dental clinic when her teeth were X-rayed. But she’d never heard of a lead-lined protective garment, and she had no idea why the man needed to wear one.
Vernon strode across the separation.
“The drone’s ready,” he said to Sacheen. “The payload is sealed. It’s safe to approach.”
“What are you doing?” Toby said.
Sacheen held out her hand toward the drone.
“Come. I’ll show you.”
The aircraft came into view as they approached. It had six large propellers on arms that symmetrically stretched out two feet from the main body. The props were arranged at the end of each arm, around the center of the craft. Beneath the junction of the six arms was a squat metallic cylinder oriented so the axis of the cylinder was vertical.
To the side, Toby saw seven similar drones. Each even had the same short metal cylinder affixed to the body of the aircraft.
“What is that fixed to the drone?” Toby said. “Is it a bomb?”
“Oh, no,” Leonard said. “A bomb that size,” he pointed to the aircraft, “wouldn’t do much damage. Maybe break a few windows. That’s about all.”
“Then what is it?”
“Inside that chamber is some of the deadliest material mankind has ever made,” he said.
Toby’s eyes widened.
Leonard continued. “You see, when the atomic genie was released from her bottle, she unleashed more than just the atomic bomb. Thankfully, governments have largely refrained from using such terrible weapons, and they’ve managed to keep their stockpiles secure.”
“At least, as far as we know,” Sacheen said.
“But uranium and plutonium used to make bombs are not the only radioactive elements that can cause great harm,” Leonard said. “You see, inside that payload chamber is a mixture of strontium-90 and cobalt-60, in the form of a fine powder. Have you heard of these elements?”
Toby stared back in silence.
“No? I’m not surprised. Not the sort of thing one would discuss in normal conversations. Cobalt-60 is used in medical imaging machines and industrial devices, for scanning welds in things like steel pipelines. And strontium-90 was used by the Soviets to make thermoelectric generators. They placed hundreds of these machines at remote beacons in the Arctic to serve as navigational aids. Both materials are highly radioactive, hence the protective suit worn by Vernon as he loaded the capsule.”
“If these materials are so dangerous,” Toby said, “how did you get them?”
“It’s really not so hard if you know where to look. Sacheen took care of the acquisition.”
“The cobalt was purchased from a metal recycler in Mexico,” Sacheen said. “The strontium was a bit more difficult, mostly because I had to travel to northern Canada to acquire the material. When the Soviet Union collapsed, the government abandoned nearly all of their thermoelectric generators. Not that they were ever secured in the first place. Anyway, it was a simple matter to contract with some enterprising men to scavenge the materials from two of the rusting machines.”
“But how did you get that stuff into the country? Don’t they have radiation detectors at the borders?”
“Of course. At the major international crossings. But we didn’t use those. It was easy to smuggle the material where the borders are unguarded.”
Toby folded her arms across her chest.
“So you’re going to fly the drone over San Francisco,” she said, “and crash it into city hall. So what? City hall will be contaminated, but who’s going to care?”
“You misunderstand,” Sacheen said. “That’s not our plan at all.”
“Then what?”
“This will be a message. A warning.” Leonard faced Vernon. “Power up the drone and fly low on a direct course for Pioneer Park.”
Vernon nodded. He flipped the master power switch on the controller, and all six electric motors turned on with a buzzing sound. He advanced the power setting until the aircraft rose to a hover. Finally, he made some trim adjustments and ensured he had a clear image on his phone clipped to the controller. Then he sent the drone south toward San Francisco.
“Like I told you before,” she said to Toby, “we don’t want to hurt anyone. Vernon will land this drone in Pioneer Park, with its cargo of radioactive dust still locked away inside the payload capsule. I’ll call the police and tell them where to find it and what it contains.”
Leonard said, “Once they confirm that we’re telling the truth, they will have no choice but to capitulate to our demands.”
“They’ll never give in,” Toby said.
“That would be a mistake,” Leonard replied.
“You can call it what you like,” Toby said. “I’m just telling you that the politicians will never give in to your demands. You can’t blackmail the government. Other people have tried, and it never works.”
“True. But that’s because the threat was never sufficiently…painful before. This time it will be.”
“You just don’t get it.” Toby raised her voice. “You can nuke city hall. You can nuke the entire block. They don’t care. They’ll just fence it off, tear everything down, and rebuild.”
“You take us for fools if you think we don’t know that,” Sacheen said, with fire in her eyes.
Leonard motioned toward the other seven drones.
“This fleet of unmanned aircraft has the capability to spread enough radioactive dust to blanket San Francisco, Berkeley, Richmond, and Oakland. More than one and a half million people will be displaced. Thousands will die from cancer within the first year. All of San Francisco, and half of the East Bay, will be uninhabitable for half a century, maybe longer. And that’s just the beginning. If we have to, we’ll nuke every major metropolis in America.”
“My God,” Toby said. “You’re all mad.”