“Or else that’s just what they want us to think,” interrupted Rhodes. “Maybe that’s precisely where we’re weak.”
“Well I’m not impressed by the 13,000 jumbo jets thing. There was no airport security to speak of when Lockerbie happened,” said Dan. “But it would be impossible to smuggle plastique onto a plane today. Since that idiot shoe-bomb affair we have sniffer devices, and dogs for that matter, at most airports. Carry-on baggage is x-rayed and spot searched. Cargo is x-rayed and spot searched. Good luck trying anything like that today. For the past five years it’s been next to impossible. The big problems now are runaway nukes and underground anthrax labs. That’s what we should be looking for. Not airplane and train bombings. Not a few tons of explosives. That’s just plain stupid.” Dan waved his hand, brushing off Rahlson’s suggestion and the thought of anyone attacking a railway system.
Rhodes thought for a moment. “Suppose, Rahlson… suppose our terrorists were to use all, or substantially all, of the explosive in one strike, rather than spreading it around to several targets. What kind of damage would they do?”
“I’m not completely sure, Liam,” shrugged the Cold War warrior. “They could destroy a high-profile target, like the Hancock Center in Chicago, the Transamerica Pyramid in San Francisco, the Brooklyn Bridge, the Golden Gate Bridge, the Statue of Liberty, you name it. The problem they would have is that all of those targets have been designated as high security. It would take a lot of resources on their part to get access to them at all.”
“What about non-high-profile, but still very damaging, targets like the Indian Point Nuclear Power Plant in New York, the LAX or O’Hare airports, or, say, a major dam, pipeline, or chemical processing facility?” Rhodes continued.
“Well, sure,” continued Rahlson. “But all of those types of targets also have a high degree of security around them. The Indian Point facility is guarded like Fort Knox, although the general population doesn’t know that. And you can forget about anything in DC, given the closed airspace and the fuss about security.”
“What about malls, shopping centers, water towers, or just dense downtown cores, like football stadiums, basketball courts…” Rhodes continued, thinking aloud. “Those are all places they could use anthrax as well.”
“You can’t protect everything all the time,” replied Rahlson. “That’s what makes terrorism terrorism. As the threat level goes up to Orange, and to Red, the level of protection increases, but you just can’t protect it all. That’s why we’re here, isn’t it, Dan? To figure out what they’re going to hit before they hit it?”
“That’s a nice, succinct way of stating our mandate,” replied TTIC’s commander. “I guess that’s why we’re here.” Dan picked up the phone and asked for the office of the President’s Chief of Staff. “Turbee, as long as we’re on this wild goose chase, why don’t you see what you can hunt down on Blue Gene,” he added, as he was waiting for the call to go through.
6
Indy reached the orthopedic ward of Vancouver General Hospital within 15 minutes, and spoke briefly with the ward’s head nurse. “The amputation was performed last night. The osteomyelitis had become too severe and entrenched, and was threatening to spread. It was an above-the-knee amputation. He’s pretty depressed, so go easy on him.”
“Thanks, ma’am,” replied Indy. “I’ll be cool.” He went to room 412, where he found Benny Hallett dozing.
“Benny,” he said softly, shaking Benny’s shoulder. “Benny, we need to talk.”
“Screw off,” croaked Benny, in a voice laced with resignation and pain. “I don’t want to talk to no cops. Not now. Not ever.”
Indy was struck by the fact that Benny had immediately recognized his profession, though he was not in uniform and had not introduced himself. The underworld was sensitive to such things. It had always been easy for them to tell, somehow, which side of the law someone came down on. This made it easy, in turn, for the cops to tell whether they were talking to a good citizen or a criminal.
“Benny,” he repeated. “I’m Inspector Inderjit Singh, with the RCMP. You need to talk to me more than I need to talk to you. You need to tell me what happened. You need us.”
“Oh fuck, a Hindu cop,” came the reply. “Double trouble.”
Indy didn’t react to the slur. He had spent most of his life dealing with racism. He was small of stature, only 5′7″, and had weighed in at 150 pounds when he applied to the Force, just squeaking by the entrance requirements. His background had also been a little sketchy for law enforcement. Growing up as a minority teenager in Toronto had not been easy, and he had gravitated to the East Indian gangs, for protection more than anything else. Bright, eager, and clever, he had been bored with what school had to offer and had quickly fallen into a life of petty crime and drugs. But for the intervention of an experienced social worker, Indy might have lived a short, fast, and high life, ending in deadly addiction, murder, or jail. But, with the assistance of some state-provided mentors from the Force, he had applied, and after much internal debate, been accepted to the academy in Regina, Saskatchewan.
When he finished his basic training, his facility in Punjabi and his knowledge of the gang and drug trade had made him a natural to go undercover. It was a move he’d made with great skill. His work led to the near total destruction of the Vancouver Punjabi trade in narcotics in the ’80s. It struck him as ironic that, with his success in eliminating the East Indian drug trade, the Triads from Hong Kong and mainland China had simply taken over. Something was definitely wrong with the nation’s drug enforcement agenda. But he shrugged it off and kept going, continuing to serve with distinction, and making the coveted inspector badge by his early 40s.
Indy already knew a great deal about the Halletts, and their cousins the Lestages, two ne’er-do-well families living mostly south of Fernie, on the Corbie-Flathead Forest service road. No one really knew how many Halletts and Lestages there actually were, but the local law enforcement thought that there were perhaps 30 all told. Members of the families kept drifting in and out of Fernie. A fair amount of crossbreeding took place. Petty crime was their stock in trade and they lived on Social Assistance most of the time. Many of the family members had racked up convictions for theft, marijuana possession, assault, and public drunkenness. During the summer months the families jointly operated a bike tour in the fabulous Akamina-Kishinina Provincial Park, located in the extreme southeastern corner of the province, abutting both Alberta and Montana. While it was surrounded by other great parks, such as Banff and Kootenay National Parks, Glacier National Park, and Waterton Provincial Park, the Akamina-Kishinina was remote and seldom talked about, primarily because of its isolation. The only road approaching the park was the Corbie-Flathead, and it did not enter the park itself, but stopped just to the west of it.
The park’s very isolation and sparse population made it a prime spot for underworld activity, if you asked Indy.
The Hallett/Lestage operation was grandiosely called the Akamina-Kishinina Bicycle Tour Co. Ltd., and for a small, family-run business it caused the local RCMP detachment in Fernie no end of grief. Tourists were constantly complaining about paying for the tour in advance, then having no tour guide show up at the appointed place and time. Worse yet were the bicyclists that left the Akamina and found no bus waiting to pick them up and take them home. Reports came in that the tour guides were usually smoking marijuana while driving the bus to or from the park, along a roadway that crossed precipitous canyons via perilous and steep switchbacks. Usually the bus developed incapacitating engine problems and the tour would be canceled before reaching its destination, or returned back home to Fernie. There were even complaints of the Hallett/Lestage group stealing bicycles from a business competitor. What troubled Indy, though, was that the operation of the company actually required the application of effort and organization, attributes for which the Hallett/Lestage gang was not well known. He wondered what was going on behind the scenes that would make such an elaborate façade necessary. It was particularly curious that this company charged less than half the cost of any competition, easily driving everyone else out of business.