As they examined the black and white photos, Carr explained, “That’s a laser guided rifle, completely computerized.”
“Computerized?” Grant asked with wrinkled brow.
“That’s right. The developers were able to use the same computer technology designed for the Apollo spacecraft. There’s a lot in that report,” he pointed toward the folder, “that I don’t completely understand. But think about it. A rifle that can be programmed, controlled by computer, has its own GPS. Just set it and forget it — or so I’ve been told.” He gave a half smile, then added, “If you read further into that report, you’ll see there’s the possibility the design could be altered into almost any size for mounting on ships, planes, or any military vehicle.”
“This is fantastic,” Adler said, holding two of the photos. “Mike would eat dirt for one of these,” he laughed quietly.
“Mike?” Carr asked.
“Uh, yes, Mr. President,” Adler answered. “Mike Novak is the Team’s sniper.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Grant processed the information, then asked, “Mr. President, when was the prototype completed?”
“Two prototypes, Grant, and that was nearly a year ago. After successful testing, a limited number went into production. The factory was to begin production on another order in about a month.”
And that’s why we’re here, Grant thought. “Has something happened to those production models?”
“Those first ten were stolen.”
“Wow,” Adler said under his breath.
Grant asked, “When?”
“Last night, around midnight.”
“Anything else to go on, Mr. President? I mean, did it happen at the manufacturing plant or during transport?”
“During transport to Indian Head. As SOP, they were secured in special crates, five to a crate. The crates were loaded on a military truck, with a driver, a guard up front, and two riding with the crates. Those guards were well armed.
“About twenty miles from the base, along a deserted stretch of Palmer Road, the truck was attacked. The driver and guards were killed.”
“Jesus,” Grant said quietly. “Any indication how they made off with the weapons?”
“NIS (Naval Investigative Service) hasn’t come up with anything yet. I’ve been told there wasn’t any evidence indicating the crates were opened. No wood remnants, no screws, nothing. Whoever took them, took them completely intact.”
“I’m assuming, Mr. President, that whoever was in charge has been questioned?”
“Correct. At the plant and Indian Head.” Carr took the lid off the ice bucket, used tongs to put ice into a tall glass, then started pouring water. “You sure I can’t get you something?” The two men declined.
Carr swallowed some water. “Not everyone’s been questioned, though. I’m sure NIS will continue interviewing and weeding out individuals who may have had more knowledge of the weapon design. There isn’t much I can do to slow down the investigation without causing suspicion. Now, I know you boys worked for Admiral Torrinson at NIS not long ago, so you should know how those folks operate.”
“Yes, sir.” Grant’s eyes narrowed as he began interpreting Carr’s statement. “Mr. President, I’m getting the impression you want us to ‘fly under the radar’ on this one.”
“You’re right, Grant. You’ll be conducting a, shall we say, private investigation. I don’t want any departments to think I’m stepping on toes, but I also don’t want that many involved at this point. We are sure of one traitor, but who’s to say there aren’t more involved, and from possibly different departments.” Carr sipped on some water. “So, have you decided if you’ll need your whole Team?”
“I think it’ll be best, Mr. President. And I’d like to bring in Agent Mullins. As in the last operation, Scott will have responsibility for lining up refueling, transportation needs, and equipment that might be necessary. He’s an invaluable asset to the Team, sir.”
Carr rolled the glass between his palms. “Understand, and you ask for anything you deem necessary.” He put the glass on the coffee table. “I know you’d like your man to get familiar with one of those, but I don’t know if there’ll be time for training.”
“Mike’s a smart guy, Mr. President. With your approval, I could send him to Indian Head for a day of training while we begin our investigation.”
“I’ll start the ball rolling tonight. Have him go directly to Indian Head in the morning. He’ll report to Captain Ramsay.” Carr stood, with Grant and Adler immediately following. The meeting was just about over.
“Mr. President, who should I contact with any further questions or if I have updates?” Grant asked.
“Have Agent Mullins contact me directly. A call from the State Department will less likely be questioned.”
“Very well, sir.”
“Anything else, Grant?”
“No, sir. Joe and I will start immediately when we meet the Team.”
“Speaking of which… you should probably give one of your men a call from here. The staff sergeant will drive you back to the Memorial.” Carr pointed to a door. “There’s a phone in my office.”
Five minutes later Grant joined Carr and Adler near the front door.
Adler had his hand on the knob, when the Secret Service agent opened it, then stepped aside.
“Grant, Joe,” Carr said, “this isn’t the first time the country will be depending on you.”
Grant returned Carr’s firm handshake. “We’ll do our very best, Mr. President, and as quickly as possible.”
Chapter 6
Two Chevy SUVs drove along Palmer Road, slowing down as they approached where the attack occurred. Grant had the entire Team with him, knowing he’d need every pair of eyes to search for clues, especially in the dark. They couldn’t hold off and wait until daylight. Time was of the essence.
As soon as the SUVs stopped, the seven men jumped out. Stalley and Diaz grabbed a couple of emergency flares, setting them in front and behind the vehicles.
Grant turned on a flashlight, the beam settling on an area just off the shoulder. “Looks like that’s where the truck ended up,” he commented, before turning toward his men. “I don’t know what the hell we’re looking for, but there’s gotta be something that’ll give us a clue on who pulled this off and maybe how. Spread out.” With flashlight beams leading their way, the men began scouring the area.
Novak moved the light back and forth along blacktop. “Anybody find any casings?!”
Six responses came back: “Negative!”
“NIS probably confiscated all the physical evidence they could carry,” Grant commented.
“Looks like this was where NIS may have ‘planted’ at least one flare!” Slade shouted as he continued walking along the asphalt.
Suddenly, a set of high beams came around a curve. Slade swung his flashlight back and forth, aiming it low. The distinctive staccato sound of “jake brakes” warned them a big rig was approaching. The truck slowed, then rolled to a stop. The driver leaned his head out the window. “Everything okay here?!”
Slade walked closer to the cab. “Yeah. Everything’s under control. Thanks.”
The trucker shifted into gear, but kept looking in his large, side view mirror. Slade stood in the middle of the road, watching until lights were no longer visible. “Hey, boss, think that guy might call the cops?”
“Can’t worry about him, Ken.”
“Skipper!” Adler called. “Take a look at this!”
Grant jogged to where Adler was standing, just along the shoulder, about twenty yards away from where the truck ended up in the ditch. “Whatcha got, Joe?” he asked, with his eyes following the flashlight beam toward trees.