Authors: Matthew Reilly
deceived Race into coming along on the mission.
Race shook the thoughts away.
He was going to have to figure out how he would deal
with Nash when he arrived back at Vilcafor—should he confront him,
or would he be better served remaining silent and not letting Nash
know just how much he knew?
Whatever the case, he would have to decide soon, for no sooner had
he finished reading the manuscript than the seaplane tilted gently
beneath him, dropping its nose.
They were beginning their descent.
They were returning to Vilcafor.
Special Agent John-Paul Demonaco walked carefully through the vault
room examining the scene of the crime.
After the Navy captain, Aaronson, had gone off to give the green
light to an assault on the suspected Freedom Fighter locations, the
other Naval investigator—Comman- der Tom Mitchell—had asked
Demonaco if he would take a look at the crime scene. Maybe he would
notice something they hadn't.
'Aaronson's wrong, isn't he?' Mitchell said as they wan dered
through the vault room.
'What do you mean?' Demonaco said as he scanned the heavily-sealed
lab facility. It was a very impressive labora tory. In fact, it was
one of the most high-tech labs he had ever seen.
'The Freedom Fighters didn't do this,' Mitchell said.
'No… no, they didn't.'
'Then who did?'
Demonaco was silent for a moment.
When at last he spoke, however, he didn't answer the question.
'Tell me more about the device that the Navy was building here.
This Supernova.'
Mitchell took a deep breath. 'I'll tell you what I know.
The Supernova is a fourth-generation thermonuclear weapon. Instead
of splitting the atoms of terrestrial radioac tive elements like
uranium and plutonium, it creates a mega-explosion by splitting a
subcritical mass of the non- terrestrial element thyrium.
'The blast caused by the splitting of a thyrium atom is so powerful
that it would rip out nearly a third of the Earth's mass. Put
simply, the Supernova is the first manmade device capable of
destroying the planet we live on.'
'This element, thyrium, you say it's non-terrestrial,'
Demonaco said. 'If it doesn't come from Earth, then where does it
come from?'
'Asteroid impacts, meteorite landings. Segments of rocks that
survive the journey through the Earth's atmosphere.
But so far as we know, no-one's ever found a live specimen of
thyrium.'
'I think you'll find,“ Demonaco said, 'that someone has now. And I
might just know who.'
Demonaco explained.
“Commander, for the last six months, my unit at the Bureau has been
hearing rumours of an inter-militia war between the Oklahoma
Freedom Fighters and another terrorist group calling themselves the
Republican Army of Texas.'
'The Republican Army of Texas—aren't they the ones who skinned
those park rangers up in Montana?'
'They're the prime suspects,' Demonaco said. 'We told the media
that those two rangers stumbled on some hillbillies shooting
illegal game, but we actually think it was worse than that. We
think they stumbled on a secret Texan training camp.'
'A training camp?'
'Uh-huh. The Texans are a much larger group than the Freedom
Fighters, and much better fighters—in fact, you can't even join the
Texans unless you've been a member of one of the armed
forces.
'They're also exceptionally organised for a terrorist group, more
like an elite military unit than a weekend hunting club.
'They have a rigidly defined chain of command, with severe
penalties for any member who breaks that hierarchy,
a system that has been attributed to the influence of their leader,
Earl Bittiker, a former Navy SEAL who was dishonourably discharged
in 1986 for sexually assaulting a female lieutenant who gave him an
order he didn't like. He raped
her both vaginally and orally.'
Mitchell winced.
'Apparently, Bittiker was one of the SEALs' best men—a totally
remorseless killing machine. But like a lot of those types, he
lacked certain civilising virtues. Apparently in 1983, three years
before the rape incident, he was diagnosed as being clinically
psychotic, but the Navy allowed him to remain on active duty
anyway. So long as his aggression was directed at our enemies, they
figured it didn't matter.
Great logic.
'After the rape, Bittiker was discharged from the Navy and
sentenced to eight years in Leavenworth. When he got out in 1994,
he founded the Republican Army of Texas with a couple of other
disgraced ex-servicemen he'd met in jail.
'The Texans train constantly,' Demonaco said. 'In the desert, in
the badlands of Texas and Montana, and sometimes, up in the
mountains in Oregon. They figure that when the time comes to launch
a full-scale war against the United States government-or the U.S.
government in conjunction with the United Nations—they want to be
ready to fight in all kinds of terrain.
'What makes it worse is that they have money too. After the
government screwed him on an oil deal, the Texan oil tycoon
Stanford Cole left Bittiker and the Texans something in the
vicinity of forty-two million dollars and a note that said, “Give
'em hell”. It's no surprise then that Bittiker and his cronies are
often seen at black market arms bazaars in the Middle East and
Africa. Hell, last year, they bought eight surplus Black Hawk
helicopters from the Australian government.'
'Christ,' Mitchell said.
'Still,' Demonaco went on, 'that doesn't stop them stealing some
heavy-duty hardware every now and then. For example, although we
can't prove it, we believe that the Texans are
responsible for the theft of an Abrams M-1A1 main battle tank while
it was—-'
'They stole a tank?' Mitchell said, incredulous.
'Off the back of a semi-trailer while it was being transported from
the Chrysler plant in Detroit to Tank and Automotive Command in
Warren, Michigan.'
'Why do you suspect them?' Mitchell asked.
“Because two years ago, the Texans bought an old Antonov An-22
heavy-lift cargo plane from an arms market in Iran. The An-22 is a
damn big plane, the Russian equivalent of our biggest lifters, the
C-5 Galaxy and the C17 Globemaster. Now if you wanted a regular
cargo plane, you'd go and buy yourself a smaller An-12 or a C-130
Hercules, not an An-22. You'd only need a '-22 if you were
intending to move something big. Something really, really big.
Something like a 67-ton tank.'
Demonaco paused, shook his head. 'But that's the least of
our worries now.'
'Why?'
'Because lately we've been hearing some disturbing rumours about
the Texans. It seems that they've found something of a soulmate in
the Aura Shinrikyo cult in Japan, the group who released sarin gas
in the Tokyo subway in 1995. After the Tokyo attack, some members
of the cult came to America and infiltrated a few of our militia
groups. We have reason to believe that several members of Aura
Shin° rikyo joined the Texans.'
'What does that mean for us?' Mitchell asked.
'It means that we now have a very big problem.'
'Why?'
'Because the Aum Shinrikyo cult is a doomsday cult. Its only
goal—indeed, its only reason for being—is to bring about the end of
the world. We only know about the Tokyo subway incident because the
networks got film footage of it.
Did you know that in early 1994 Aum Shinrikyo managed to seize
control of a remote Chinese missile silo? They almost launched
thirty tactical nuclear missiles at the United States in an attempt
to initiate a full-scale thermonuclear war.'
'No, I didn't know that,' Mitchell said.
'Commander, we've never really had a genuine doomsday cult in
America. We have violent antigovernment groups, anti-UN groups,
anti-abortion, anti-Semitic and anti-Negro groups. But we have
never had a group whose sole ambition is to bring about the mass
destruction of life on this planet.
'Now, if Earl Bittiker and the Texans have decided to adopt a
doomsday philosophy, then that leaves us with a big problem.
Because then we'll have one of the most dangerous paramilitary
groups in America running around with a death wish.'
'Okay, then,' Mitchell said, 'so how does all this relate to this
robbery?'
'Eas)' Demonaco said. 'The group which carried out this robbery was
a highly trained, highly skilled assault squad.
The tactics that they employed were pure Special Forces—
large-scale SEAL stuff—which would point to an organisation more
like the Texan Republican Army and not the Freedom Fighters.'
'Right.'
'But whoever did this left us a single tungsten-cored bullet-to
point us toward the Freedom Fighters. If the Texans really did do
this, don't you think it would make sense for them to throw us off
the scent by framing their enemies—
the Oklahoma Freedom Fighters?'
'Yeah…'
'What really scares me, though,' Demonaco said, 'is what they were
after. Because if the Texans really have acquired doomsday
tendencies, then this Supernova of yours is exactly the kind of
thing they'd go for.'
'The other thing we have to think about,' Demonaco went on, 'is how
they got in. They had someone on the inside, someone who knew the
codes to, and who could get card- keys for, all the security locks.
Do you have a record of the names of everyone working on the
project?'
Mitchell pulled a sheet of computer paper from his breast pocket
and handed it to Demonaco.
'That's a list of all the people working on the Supernova project,
Navy and DARPA.'
Demonaco looked at the list.
PROJECT NAME: N23-657-K2 (SUPERNOVA)
CLASSIFICATION: RED (ABSOLUTE SECRET)
RELEVANT AGENCIES: NAVY / DARPA
PERSONNEL INVOLVED:
NAME POSITION HELD AGENCY SECURITY NO.
ROMANO, Julius M.
Nuclear physicist, NAVY N/1005A2
PROJECT LEADER
FISK, Howard K.
Theoretical physicist, DARPA D/154677A
DARPA PROJECT
LEADER
BOYLE, Jeesica D.
Nuclear physicist DARPA D/1788o82B
LABOWSKI, John A.
Delivery system NAVY N/7659C7
engineer
MAHER, Karen B.
Secondary systems DARPA D/620122C
NORTON, Henry J.
Technical support NAVY N/7632-Cl
RACE, Martin E.
Ignition system DARPA DI3279-97A
design engineer
SMITH, Martin W.
Weapons electronics DARPA D/590035B
ADDITIONAL PERSONNEL:
KAYSON, Simon F.
Project security NAVY N/1009A2
DEVEREUX, Edward G. Language specialist HARVARD N/A
Mitchell said, 'We've checked them all out. They're all clean, even
Henry Norton, the guy whose security card and PIN codes were used
to get in.'
'Where was he on the night of the break-in?' Demonaco asked.
'In the Arlington morgue,' Mitchell said simply. 'Paramedic records
confirm that at 5:36 am on the night of the break-inmexactly
fifteen minutes before the thieves stormed this building—Henry
Norton and his wife, Sarah,
were found shot to death at their home in Arlington.'
'5:36/Demonaco said. 'They got here quickly after they killed him.
They knew his name would be flagged at the hospital.'
As both Demonaco and Mitchell knew, it was common for high-level
government employees to have electronic flags attached to their
names in the event that they unex pectedly arrived at a hospital.
As soon as the important person's name was entered into the
hospital's records, a flag screen would come up telling the doctor
involved to call the relevant government agency.
'Did Norton have any links to militia groups?” Demonaco
asked.
'Not a one. Been in the Navy all his life. Technical sup port
systems expert—-computers, communications systems, navigation
computers. He has an exemplary record. Hell, the man's a goddamn
boy scout. The man least likely to betray his country.'
'What about the others?'
'Nothing. None of them has any links to any paramilitary
organisations. Every member of the team had to go through a
comprehensive security check before they were cleared to work on
the project. They're clean. Not a single one of them is believed to
even know a member of a militia group.'
'Well, someone does,' Demonaco said. 'Find out who worked with
Norton the most, anyone who could have watched him enter his PIN
codes every day. I'll make some calls to my people and see what
Earl Bittiker and the Texans have been up to lately.'
The Goose kicked up a shower of spray as it touched down on the
surface of the Alto Purus River, not far from the base of the
waterfall that cascaded out over the table land.
Night had fallen and, mindful of the presence of the rapas in the
village, Race and the others had decided that they would moor the
seaplane down by the waterfall and re-enter Vilcafor via the
quenko.
After Doogie had parked the Goose on the riverbank underneath a
dense canopy of trees, the four of them dis embarked. They left Uli
in the plane, unconscious and dosed up on some methadone they'd
found in a first-aid kit in the back of the plane.
Before they made for the path behind the waterfall, how ever, Race
made them do something quite unusual.
Using a couple of wooden boxes they had found inside the Goose and
a few energy bars that Van Lewen and Doogie had had on their
persons, they set some primitive traps—traps that were designed to
catch the monkeys rustling about in the trees above them.
Ten minutes later, they had a pair of furious primates trapped
inside the two wooden boxes. The two monkeys screamed and shrieked
as Van Lewen and Doogie carried them along the path behind the
rushing waterfall and into the yawning stone doorway of the
quenko.
Ten minutes later, Race climbed up into the citadel of
Vilcafor.
Nash, Lauren, Copeland, Gaby Lopez and Johann Krauss were all
gathered in a corner of the citadel watching Lauren as she tried to
make radio contact with either Van Lewen or Doogie.
They all turned as one when they saw Race emerge from the quenko
with the fake idol in his hands.
Ren6e, Van Lewen and Doogie came up into the citadel after him.
They were all completely covered in mud and grime. Race still had
dried droplets of Heinrich Anistaze's blood on his face.
Nash saw the idol in his hands immediately.
'You got it!' he exclaimed, rushing over to Race, snatch ing the
idol from him.
He gazed at it adoringly.
Race just watched Nash coldly, and in that instant he decided that
he wouldn't tell Nash what he knew about him. Rather he would just
wait and see what Nash did from here. They might still get the
idol—indeed, maybe even with Race's help—but Race was determined to
ensure that Nash wouldn't end up with it.