Xander looked to where the dirt road splintered off from the main road, and the three, dark blue Chevy Suburban SUV’s parked there, looking totally out of place for the surroundings. “Do you know how to hotwire an SUV?” he said.
“No… do you?”
“We’re going to find out.”
The pair climbed up the road the short distance to the first SUV. Xander tried the handle and the door opened. He looked at Tiffany and smiled before jumping into the driver’s seat. He bent down so he could see the keyhole while reaching underneath for the edge of the plastic panel covering the ignition system. He’d seen plenty of people on T.V. do this: just yank off the panel and connect a few wires.
He heard a jingling near his left ear. He looked up and saw Tiffany holding a set of keys by her fingertips.
“You found them… where?” he asked as he righted himself.
“They were in the visor,” she replied with a smug look on her face. “I guess this is how hit squads do it. It wouldn’t pay for the guy with the keys to the getaway car to get shot or blown up. This way anyone making it back here can get it started.”
“Makes sense. Now grab the keys from the other two and let’s get out of here.”
Thirty seconds later Xander had whipped the huge sports utility vehicle around and was racing down Pine Crest Road. Tiffany rolled down the window, and as the truck turned south on SR 243, she tossed the keys out into a small snow bank.
“You know, that will only stop them for a minute. I’m sure guys like that do know how to hotwire a vehicle.”
“Perhaps we should have done something more permanent.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know, like maybe puncture the tires. We’d have to do two each because they’d have one spare per car.”
“That’s a brilliant idea. Let’s go back and do that.” Xander began to slow the vehicle.
“No, don’t!” Tiffany cried out.
Xander pressed on the gas again. “I’m just playing with you.”
“You bastard, how can you joke at a time like this?”
“It was worth it just to see the look on your face. Now buckle up. We wouldn’t want to get stopped for not wearing our seatbelts.”
“Maybe that’s exactly what we need — a cop. At least then we’ll have some protection.”
“And while we’re trying to convince some highway patrolman that we’re being chased by terrorists, the real killers show up with a small army packing automatic weapons.”
“So where are we going, if not to the nearest police station?”
“I know some people in San Diego who might be able to help, at least help us track down Jonas Lemon.”
“Why would you want to do that? It’s a little late, isn’t it?”
“Maybe, but he’s the only link to the terrorist group — or groups — behind the attacks. Just as they did with us, the only way to stop these guys is to take out their version of the RDC. Lemon knows who they are and probably where they are. Besides, I wouldn’t mind having a little face-to-face time with Jonas myself.”
“San Diego’s a two hour drive from here. I hope we can stay ahead of the guys with the guns.”
“I know some back roads. It’ll take us longer, but it’s not the normal route someone would expect us to take. They’ll be looking for us along the main roads.”
“I hope Jack and Doris are okay.”
Xander took Tiffany’s hand and squeezed it. “I’m sure they are. The bad guys didn’t hang around their place very long, and with all the ruckus they caused, all they’re going to be looking for is a way out before the police arrive in force.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Xander reached in the pocket of his jacket and pulled out Doris’ cellphone. “Here, hold on to this — just watch the minutes.”
Tiffany smiled, even though her blue eyes still glistened with tears of worry. “At some point I’m going to have to file a story about what’s going on. Maybe if I did it would shine a light on what’s really behind all this.”
“That’s a good idea; however, you might wait until we have some good news. All you can say at this point is what a deep pile of feces we’re all in. Nothing like starting a nationwide panic right here at Christmastime.”
“I think that horse has already left the barn. If the terrorists want to, they can have a field day with their little drones, along with every other crazy fanatic out there.”
“I hope people a lot smarter than us are working on a solution. If not, then we’re really screwed.”
Chapter 14
Hours before the scheduled ten o’clock meeting, the president and his staff were at work sorting through all that had happened across the country throughout the night. It seemed that the public had not come to grips with the consequences of the attack on the Rapid Defense Center the day before, at least not initially, and especially not on the East Coast. The tragic event was something that had happened on the other side of the country, so how could it possibly affect them?
On Tuesday morning Americans got in their cars, boarded trains, and entered subway stations, beginning the day like all the rest. But President Ortega and his staff had been right in their assessment. Abdul-Shahid Almasi had enlisted the assistance of several other terrorist organizations and placed them on standby, waiting for the time the RDC was taken out. That morning, forty-two simultaneous operations were initiated across America. Once the attacks got underway, they produced a variety of mind-boggling consequences.
The New Stock Exchange closed down over one thousand points in a shortened two-hour trading day — the largest single drop in history. Meanwhile, retailers across the country who had attempted to open that Tuesday morning in spite of deserted malls and no-show employees had, by one that afternoon, given up and sent everyone home. Airlines saw an eighty-percent drop in passenger loads that Tuesday, as people refused to leave their homes for any reason.
The other odd event — that basically tipped the hand of the terrorists — was when drones began to attack several of Amazon’s regional processing centers, as well as airports and sorting hubs for FedEx and UPS. Now even online orders were being refused, as companies discovered that the means of delivering their products was under assault as well. Workers streamed out of these facilities in a wholesale panic once the pattern became apparent.
Thirty-five hours after the attack on the RDC, at the economy’s critical time of the year, commerce in America came to a sudden standstill.
President Rene Ortega and his staff met this time in the situation room under the White House. President-Elect Owen Murphy was in attendance.
“So what more do we know?” the president asked, addressing this question to his CIA chief, Morgan Donahue.
“We’re pretty sure it was the Arm of Allah that carried out the main part of the attack. There was a conspicuous lack of electronic traffic circulating at that time, which is usually a giveaway. So far, we’ve been able to determine that around two hundred ninety drones took part in the operation, both in Las Vegas and against the various response bunkers and employee homes in the area. We’ve traced the bulk of them — the ones they call Lightning’s — to the break-in and theft of a storage facility near San Diego six months ago. When restrictions were placed on the sale of this particular type of drone, a lot of the manufacturers warehoused their existing inventory in the event the restrictions would be lifted sometime in the future. Over six hundred drones of various makes and models were stolen.”
“And you didn’t see that as a potential threat?” the president asked, dumbfounded.
“We did, sir, yet as in the case of previous thefts, we expected many of these units to make their way overseas for resale in countries that don’t have such restrictions. Black-market drones can go for four to five times their retail value here in the States.”