The Assassin's List (25 page)

When he got back to the Yukon, everyone was seated for the ride to the depot.

“Any trouble with the locals when you told them you wanted to park next to the terminal for a while?” Drake asked.

“Not after I told them to call the Senator’s office. They’ve been visited by so many dignitaries, they’re used to the drill. You ready to roll?”

“Roll on, amigo. Let’s see if the depot security staff is as alert as the airport people were.”

Leaving the terminal area, they drove past a Bell 407 medical evacuation helicopter, with letters designating it as one of the life flight helicopters from the nearby Good Shepherd Medical Center. The pilot’s door on the right was open, and Drake could see the pilot sitting inside.

“Looks like they’re ready for any eventuality here. Were you able to get the stuff we talked about?”

“Everything’s in the back,” Mike said, hooking a thumb over his shoulder. “We going to be able to get all this stuff past security?”

“Shouldn’t be a problem. The Senator cleared it for us. We have ID. If we’re busted, I’ll just tell them I didn’t know anything about the stuff you brought. At least I’ll be able to get the Senator through.”

“Funny,” Mike said, without wasting a glance at Drake.

“When we get there, I’ll accompany the Senator to the ceremony. You stay with the Yukon. My main concern is if anything happens during the ceremony, there won’t be adequate transportation for everyone. They’ve promised VIP Humvees for the Secretary and the Senator, but I want to make sure we’re able to get him out if we need to. If anything goes down, I’ll get him back to you, and you get us back to their emergency center.”

Mike drove out of the airport and turned onto the Hermiston Highway toward I-84 and the Umatilla Weapons Depot to the west. The flat land on both sides of the highway was colored in spring green, shading to early summer brown. Overhead, contrails of fighter aircraft flying patterns over the depot crossed the sky.

“When we get to the main gate, show our ID. Ask them to call Lt. Col. Hollingsworth and tell him we’ve arrived,” Drake directed. “He’s expecting us. We’ll be escorted directly to an area behind the speaker’s stage. We should be there early enough to do a quick walk around.”

The drive from the airport to the main gate of the depot took ten minutes. It was nine o’clock when they arrived, and there were only a half dozen cars ahead of them at the security checkpoint. Drake was pleased to see that identification was carefully checked for every passenger in the cars ahead of them. The undercarriage of each vehicle was searched with a mirror, and a German shepherd walked around each car to detect explosives.

When it was their turn, the Army sergeant matched picture ID with every person in the vehicle and checked each of them off his visitor list before calling Lt. Col. Hollingsworth. The sergeant then signaled for their escort, and a tan desert camo-colored Humvee pulled out to lead them.

The depot grounds were inspection-ready neat for the ceremony. The few soldiers Drake saw were all wearing starched BDUs and spit-shined boots. The command center looked like it had a fresh touch up of paint, and the barracks off to the right had walkways lined with white rocks leading to their front doors. Lt. Col. Hollingsworth obviously had his command standing tall for the ceremony.

The $1.2 billion chemical incinerator the Army was dedicating rose in front of them as they drove on into the depot. It was a modern-looking complex that covered a football field with its conveyors and furnaces and miles of piping. It didn’t appear that much different from newer chemical plants seen around the country.

In the parking lot, in front of the main building of the incinerator, the Army had erected grandstand bleachers, and a speaker’s stage for the dignitaries. In front of the bleachers, a table stacked with programs was staffed by a young corporal standing at ease. Other soldiers stood, on each end of the bleachers, to assist guests. The Army was putting its best foot forward for the ceremony.

Mike pulled the Yukon behind the stage and got out to identify himself and his passengers to the Army sergeant stationed there. While he was talking to the sergeant, Drake turned to the Senator and explained what he wanted them to do in case of an emergency.

“If an emergency happens, for whatever reason, I want the three of you to hustle back here and get inside. Bob,” he said to the Senator’s bodyguard, “that’s your job, to get the Senator and Tim back here. This Yukon is armor plated, and we have protective equipment for everyone. I’ve been briefed on the Army’s emergency plan, and we’ll follow it. We’ll just use our own transportation. Any questions?”

The Senator, his aide and bodyguard all nodded no. They may have thought he was being a little dramatic about the whole thing, but they were polite enough not to show it.

“Good, then let’s enjoy the show,” Drake said, hoping that it would be one they’d all enjoy.

Chapter 44

The schedule of events called for Secretary Rallings and the other dignitaries to take a tour of the incinerator. They would then adjourn to a small conference room in the main incinerator building, for coffee, juices, and pastries before the guests arrived and the dedication ceremony began. Following the coffee break, the honored dignitaries were to move to their respective seats, arranged by strict military protocol.

Drake walked behind his charge as they toured the incinerator. Well-wishers greeted the Senator and reminded him of their undying support. He wondered how any man put up with the fawning for as long as the Senator had. Politicians were just servants of the people, no different than the soldiers who protected them. There weren’t many of the dignitaries who paid any attention to the high-ranking officers who stood chatting with each other. He’d seen it all before, unfortunately, the posturing of the power seekers.

Around the conference room, Drake noted sentries posted and armed with only side arms, standard issue 9mm Berettas. Despite the assurances of the depot commander, security appeared to be concentrated on the outer perimeters of the depot.

When it was time for the coffee break to end, Drake had to interrupt a persistent county commissioner. He was trying to convince the Senator federal money was needed to find out why Hermiston watermelons were losing market share to Texas and Florida.

“Ya gotta do something, Senator. I’ve got farmers struggling to survive. We don’t have cheap labor, like they do in Texas and Florida. Either we got to let more immigrants in to do the work, or subsidize watermelons like corn and wheat. It ain’t fair to my constituents.”

“Senator, I’m sorry to interrupt, but you have to go. They’re waiting for you on the platform,” Drake said, taking the Senator’s arm and turning him toward the door.

“You’re a good bodyguard, Adam, but a poor politician. The man was promising to deliver the vote of almost two percent of the population of this state. That’s everyone living in Umatilla County, if I’d just pay more attention to watermelons. Not that he could deliver on that promise, but you’ve got to listen to everyone. I had no idea Texas and Florida were our largest producers of watermelons,” the Senator said with a smile.

Leaving the incinerator building, Drake saw that the local high school marching band was in place and the grandstand was full. In the forty-five minutes since the start of the tour of the incinerator, the Army had efficiently transported and seated all of the guests. Parked behind the grandstand were ten high school buses on loan to the Army for the day. One Humvee was parked in front of the first bus and another behind the last. Drivers stood at ease beside each of them. The armed security he could see, however, was the same small cadre of soldiers that had accompanied them on their tour.

Drake felt an old, familiar sensation tingling the back of his neck, and stepped off the platform to call Mike.

“I’m not feeling good about this. You see anything?” Drake said into his lapel mike.

“Not much to see. Guests were brought in without a hitch. Activities look pretty normal, but this is the Army. Guards posted at the main gate are still there. Fighter planes are overhead, and not many vehicles are on the roads in here. They pretty much closed things down for the day. Why, you see something you’re worried about?”

“No, just a feeling. They’re a little light on security. Just keep your eyes open.”

“Roger that. Any of those doughnuts left? I can handle the sweets, whereas you’d have to run laps tomorrow. Might help me stay alert, since I’ve been up since four a.m.”

“Drink some of that coffee you brought along. I’ll take care of the doughnuts,” Drake taunted his friend.

“Okay, okay, but you’re buying dinner tonight, and I choose the restaurant.”

Promptly at ten o’clock, the color guard posted colors and the band played the National Anthem. When the band marched away, Lt. Col. Hollingsworth strode to the podium to greet the assembled dignitaries and guests.

“Secretary Rallings, Senator Hazelton, Mayor Severson, Congressman Wilkens, Commissioner Hansell and distinguished guests, it’s my distinct pleasure and honor to welcome you on this day we’ve all been waiting for. This project began almost ten years ago, and many of you here were involved in its early development. We all share a common goal, the neutralization of the chemical weapons stored here. We’re honored to have representatives from our capital, our state, and our area to help us formally dedicate this facility today. At this time, I’d like to introduce … ”

The boom of a nearby explosion and the sirens that immediately started all over the chemical weapons depot interrupted the commander’s speech. To the west, Drake saw black smoke and flames rising from one of the igloos in K Block as he ran to Senator Hazelton.

“Senator, that’s where the nerve agents are stored. Please come with me,” Drake instructed. “Secretary, you’re welcome to join us. I have an armored SUV and protective gear for you and your staff waiting behind the platform.”

Secretary Rallings turned to his head of security. “Andy?”

“If they have protection gear, let’s go with them. I’m not sure the Humvees do,” the FBI agent said.

The area around the platform and the grandstand in front of it quickly became a scene of panic. The invited guests scrambled from the grandstand and rushed to the buses, where they were slowed by the narrow, single-file doors of the borrowed school buses. Lines formed in front and around the buses, and soon they were blocked from leaving by the guests who were not willing to wait behind for the next bus.

The dignitaries from the speakers’ platform were being ushered behind the platform, where a line of Humvees waited to take them to the emergency center. The six available Humvees could only move eight passengers at a time. Sixty or more VIPs shoved to get one of the available seats.

Drake ran with a guiding hand on the elbows of the Secretary and the Senator. They crossed through the area behind the platform, weaving through the other dignitaries, and reached their SUV where Mike stood.

“You said nine, I count eight,” Mike shouted.

Drake took a quick look around. Strobel was missing. She started off the platform with the rest of them, but as he looked back he didn’t see her anywhere in the crowd.

“Throw me two protective gear sets then take them to the emergency center. I’ll find Strobel and meet you there.”

Drake tucked the masks under his arm and ran back through the panicked crowd. Of all the people to create an unnecessary risk for herself, it would have to be Strobel.

By the time he reached the area where he last saw her, she was nowhere in sight. The steps off the back of the platform led to where the Humvees had been parked, but there were no Humvees there now. The remaining dignitaries were lined up and waiting for their return, surrounded by a squad of armed soldiers wearing protective gear. Those standing in line didn’t appear to be frightened, trusting the soldiers who looked like they knew what they were doing.

One woman stood in front of the officer in charge of the loading detail, screaming into his protective mask.

“I don’t care who your commanding officer is, my boss is the Secretary of Homeland Security and I order you to take me to him now!”

The Army captain started to move the woman out of his face when Drake stepped in. “Captain, if you’ll allow me, I’ll escort Ms. Strobel to the emergency center to be with her boss.”

The captain looked through the lens of his protective mask and nodded, as if to say, if you want to deal with this psycho, she’s all yours.

Drake grabbed Strobel by her arm and pulled her away. “This isn’t a drill, so shut up and put this on. The explosion was in K Block. We’ve got to get out of here. The Secretary’s already on his way to the emergency center.”

Liz Strobel glared at him and jerked her arm free of his grasp. “Drake, I hope to hell you know what you’re doing. If anything you’ve done endangers the Secretary, I’ll personally see that you pay for this.”

“Strobel, if any harm comes to the Secretary or the Senator, I guarantee the Secret Service, the JTTF, and you, will never draw another government paycheck. Now put this stuff on, let’s go.”

Chapter 45

As soon as they put on their protective masks and made sure they fit properly around their faces, Drake pulled Strobel away from the platform staging area. He headed across the open area to the visitors’ grandstand. At the rear of the line of buses, he spotted an empty Humvee. The driver was busy helping people load onto a bus, and hadn’t posted security around his vehicle.