WESTCOM
"BLOWTORCH."
The Vice-President leaned forward on his elbows, steepling his hands and frowning at the screen, his eyes damp and bloodshot. Adder could see the illuminated dome of the capital building through the window behind his desk.
"Yes, sir," Adder replied. "That's the code designation."
"Let's hear the rest of it," Wilson said.
"Yes, sir." Adder shuffled some papers, squinting to read his notes. "BLOWTORCH is a non-lethal incapacitating agent. Experimental. An extremely powerful deliriant—ten times more potent than BZ. It was being tested for use in large-scale hostage situations like the Moscow Theater Crisis." He paused to flip a page. "If you remember, a group of armed Chechen separatists took over the theater in 2002, taking 850 hostages and demanding the withdrawal of Russian forces from Chechnya. Russian OZNAZ forces raided the theater after pumping an unidentified gas into the building's ventilation system. The gas was later determined to be weaponized Fentanyl, an aerosol anesthetic. As a result of the raid, 29 terrorists were killed, but at least 129 hostages also died from exposure to the gas."
"Ancient history," someone said.
"This wasn't an isolated incident," Andrea Thomas broke in. "Chechen terrorists took 1500 hostages in Budyonnovsk in 1995. The next year, they took almost 3000 hostages during a raid in Dagestan. The problems involved in dealing with these large-scale hostage situations are obvious and I don't have to remind you that the United States is also vulnerable to such attacks. Two years ago, Homeland instituted a classified program to research incapacitating agents which could be used to resolve these crises without causing large numbers of civilian casualties. BLOWTORCH is one result of that program."
"All right," Wilson said. "Why ship it to California?"
"Security reasons," Thomas went on. "BLOWTORCH was developed at a classified Biosafety Level Four research lab in northwestern Utah called the Tangent Facility. Three days ago, a series of minor earthquakes damaged the lab, compromising its integrity." She turned to the doctors sitting next to her. "This is Dr. Christine Bartholomew, director of the facility, and Dr. Louis McMillan, head of department for the program."
"Dr. Bartholomew?" The Vice-President leaned closer, squinting at her. "You made this stuff?"
Bartholomew looked like somebody's spinster aunt. Sixty, sixty-five, she was a small woman, thin with round shoulders and hollow, wary eyes. She took a deep breath, then turned to face Wilson.
"My team did." Her voice was tight and controlled, but she couldn't hide her disdain. "A small quantity for research purposes only. BLOWTORCH is still in the development phase."
"Just so I get it here," the Vice-President said, oblivious to her hostility. "You had an earthquake so you had to move it? That's what you're saying?"
"That's what she just said." Bartholomew glanced at the Deputy Secretary. "Tangent's located in an underground Continuity of Government facility. The structure's almost fifty years old. We had a series of temblors that caused extensive damage to our containment areas and we had to shut down the lab. Most of our stockpile of research pathogens and hazardous material was incinerated or sterilized on site, but we were directed to ship BLOWTORCH to the Paradise Depot for storage until Tangent can be repaired and retrofitted."
"Directed by who?"
"Homeland made the call," Thomas said. "With the consent of the President. There was a considerable investment involved and no one wanted to start over from scratch."
"So you did it to save money." Wilson shook his head. "Why not send it to Deseret? That's a lot closer. Let the military handle it."
"That wasn't an option, Mr. Vice-President. The Tangent Facility operates under our National BioDefense Analysis and Counter-Measures Center, but it's a separate, self-contained operation. Technically, its work could be construed as a violation of the Chemical Weapons Convention if it ever went public. Other signatories could claim that it rendered the Convention null and void. A disclosure could lead to a renewed CBW arms race. After the facility was damaged, the President decided to use Paradise for temporary storage in order to prevent any disclosures."
"In other words, you didn't trust the Pentagon."
"The President authorized the transport, sir. We were concerned about leaks and he shared that concern."
"So you used Revok Industries to ship it across state lines on a public highway. It don't make sense, Andy."
"We have a longstanding relationship with Revok Industries," Thomas pressed on. "Mack Conwell was a twenty-year employee with a top security clearance and a spotless record. Obviously, we need to revisit the protocols concerning our private-sector interface, but no one could have anticipated what happened."
"You should have," someone said.
The brass had reached their limit. Everyone was talking at once, arguing, firing questions at the Deputy Secretary, their staffers watching nervously as the meeting collapsed into general acrimony. The VIP's frowned from their monitors, worried and confused. Emerson, the DDO, was talking to someone off-screen and one of the Vice-President's aides leaned down to whisper in his ear. Wilson had lost control of the meeting. No big surprise. Adder glanced at his watch.
Five or six hours, maybe. Eight hours, tops.
Nothing could stop it now.