"Wow, Styles, that is quite a deduction. You must be working puzzles or something," quipped Phillips.
"Just common sense."
"I'd say we start with that camping store," inserted Starr, "while Phillips continues her computer thing."
Phillips, slightly rolling her eyes, offered, "It is called research, Starr. You know, the gathering of information?"
"I know. I just like to get you going once in a while."
"You don't have to try very hard to accomplish that," Phillips retorted.
Styles allowed himself a small chuckle.
Christman came over the speakers. "Guys, we're about fifteen minutes out of Portland."
Phillips clicked on her computer screen, and a printer started whirling. "I'm printing this to keep it off the Internet. Here's the name and directions to that camping outlet," she said, handing it to Starr.
"Thanks. The two of us going?"
"Yeah. We'll have J. C. secure the plane, and Phillips can get us some rooms and vehicles. I like the idea of mixing it up a bit; that was solid thinking. Get us two rooms in two different hotels this time and maybe something besides all SUVs, but nothing too flashy. Do get one, though," added Styles.
"On it," said Phillips.
Starr went forward to fill Christman in on what was coming up.
Styles sat down opposite Phillips. "Darlene, when you were with the CIA, did you have much interaction with actual chemical warfare tactics?"
Phillips had noticed that when it was just the two of them talking, he referred to her by her first name more than usual. "Not tactics as I think you mean. I did general research, mostly on actual agents rather than deployment."
"Okay. How would you use this?"
"Put it in a large body of water, maybe a large lake. See how it works on a larger area. So far, they've only used it on a large pond, at least that we know of. I would contaminate a holiday gathering since Labor Day is just around the corner. If this thing kills everything, if there were people swimming and boating, they would die also. At least if they were in the water."
"I agree. All right, what lake would you choose?"
She sat and thought for a moment. "Lake Havasu in Arizona, Lake Mead in Nevada, Lake Winnipesaukee in New Hampshire, or maybe Lake Okeechobee in Florida, which would be an ecological disaster but not harm that many people. Terrorists want to target people more than anything, at least far as I know. I think there's a big lake in Kentucky, but I don't remember the name of it."
Styles said deliberately, "If these guys are out of Portland, then I'd say either Lake Mead or Havasu, mainly because of the tourists, and it also makes sense because those two would be the easiest to get to."
Phillips nodded.
"Check out what's going on at those two. See if something might be more attractive than the other."
"You got it."
Ten minutes before Starr and Styles were set to leave, Styles said, "Hold it. Change of plans. Phillips, you got anything that would resemble a business suit?"
"Yeah, why?"
"I'm thinking you go into this camping store. Use your official DPO identification and get access to their computers and security video. See if there's any way to come up with a photo of our guy. I'll go with you but just hang off to the side. Invoke national security if anybody gives you any shit."
"I like that," agreed Starr, who had returned. "She can jump on their equipment, maybe save some time."
"Won't that advertise our presence?" asked Phillips.
"It may. Right now, I'm more concerned about stopping this threat than what the CIA or anybody else knows. We have to deal with this shit one step at a time, and right now, the threat is the priority," declared Styles.
Phillips nodded. "You're right."
"You might even persuade whoever not to tout our presence," suggested Styles. "Let's see how it goes."
16
President Williams was walking across the lawn toward the waiting helicopter. He was not happy having to go to Baltimore, but he realized that it was one of those courtesy calls that he was required to make from time to time. He was accompanied by Tommy DeLancy, his personal assistant.
"Did my speech get revised?" the president asked DeLancy.
"Yes, sir. The changes exactly as you requested, all set for the teleprompter."
"I'd just as soon have a root canal as do this," complained the president.
"Yes, sir."
"You can also stop saying 'Yes, sir' all the time."
"Yes, sir. Uh, sorry."
The president just shook his head slightly as he mounted the collapsible stairs to board the chopper, saluting his military guards along the way.
"We'll be there shortly, sir," informed the copilot.
The president merely nodded and took his seat.
Two figures were walking down the docks toward a fishing trawler. One was carrying two duffel bags while the other was wheeling three medium-size crates on a dolly. No words were spoken. The vessel was tied to a floating dock that rose and fell with the tide. The ramp down from the main dock was long enough that at low tide the incline was not particularly steep, unlike some areas in the northeast where you had to practically hang on to the handrails to transverse the walkways. Upon arriving, they loaded their gear and quickly stowed the crates out of sight. They set about appearing as though they were performing routine maintenance on the craft. The boat was tied up near Fell's Point, across from the Baltimore Museum of Industry, where the celebration honoring the governor was to take place.
Nazir al-Hadid had been here several times, but it was Sirhan al-Razar's first time aboard. Both set about their tasks. One carefully opened the three crates and readied their contents. The other laid out two sets of dive gear just inside the wheelhouse. More was waiting for them tied to underwater scooters, small torpedo-shaped vehicles with a propeller at the rear that turned via an electric motor. A set of handlebars that could have been taken from a motorcycle were mounted rearward. To control the craft's direction, you either pulled up or pushed down to change depth or pulled left or right to change direction. Both had been modified with extra batteries to provide enough electricity for the approximate twenty-mile underwater trip that faced them. Able to achieve a speed of four miles per hour, not counting the current, which could raise or lower their ground speed, a five-hour journey faced them. They had spare scuba tanks, which would provide seven hours of air. Waterproof GPS units had been mounted to the handlebars to ensure not getting lost on the way to rendezvous with the yacht that would be awaiting their arrival.
Sirhan al-Razar set up a tarp as though he were initiating repairs. In fact, it would be used to hide their departure over the side of the boat.
Finally, all was set, and the waiting started.
With everyone having checked into their rooms at two different hotels, a Holiday Inn Express and a Ramada Inn, Styles and Phillips were on their way to Outdoor Hunting and Recreation Outlet.
"Drop me off just before the parking lot; don't want any security cameras to catch me traveling with you," Styles directed Phillips. "Same when we leave."
"Got it."
Little conversation had taken place. Both knew what they were to do. Half a block away, they saw the large retail outlet. Phillips turned into a bakery parking lot, and Styles got out. Before he shut the door, he said, "Sound check."
"Loud and clear," remarked Phillips, dressed smartly in a black business suit.
"Same," confirmed Styles.