Chapter 20
"The Cold War bases aren't cold after all". Number 1 said curtly.
It been a day since their reconnaissance mission to the missile site in Montana and there was precious little time to decide what needed to be done next. The drop at the docks was going to take place within a two day time span and they needed to formulate a new plan in the midst of the new information that they had gathered.
Number 1 was standing at the head of the table this time; the projector on and showing satellite footage of the missile site. The officers of the KCD headquarters were in their usual positions around the table.
"In these pictures you will notice the constant travel of vehicles into the interior of the bases. The above ground section of the base is designed to look like a typical military training facility from the air, but under the base is where the bulk of the activity is."
There were some large silver circles that circled in red on the picture. The silver circles were in rows on either side of the airplane runway that was towards the back of the base. The silver circles were barely visible because of the sand, but there had been enough wind, and no one on site to maintain it, that the sand covering the circles had blown away enough to see them from the air.
"These silver circles are hatch covers to missile tubes. In the days of the Cold War, these missile tubes would hold ICBM's with nuclear warheads that could be launched in the event of a nuclear strike. When the Cold War ended, so did the funding for these sites and they were eventually decommissioned and emptied. We found an unusual amount of covert activity in a manufacturing floor underneath these launch tubes several feet down."
"Isn't there a program in place to downgrade our national weapon stockpile?" Number 362 asked.
"Yes," Number 1 responded, thankful that she was using questions to prod the discussion along, "So, it wouldn't be surprising that there are bases left abandoned and scattered everywhere. What is surprising that is that not all of these bases are really abandoned."
Number 1 flashed the next picture to some of the inner workings of the base. On the screen were pictures of the forklifts and the cranes lifting missile parts into place, building the large rockets from scratch. The images showed pictures of the welders, their equipment noticeable as white flashes in the background.
"If I had started the discussion with these pictures alone, many of you would have been convinced that I was going to start off by talking about the way the bases used to operate in their heyday. These pictures more accurately depict the way these bases are working now. A person might come to the conclusion that the Cold War had never ended just by looking at these workers. They look almost exactly how you would expect them to look, if the missile site was in full swing."
The room was silent as everyone pondered what was being relayed by Number 1.
"Number 2," Number 274 said at last, breaking the silence, "What is your technical analysis and conclusion."
Number 2 turned around to face Chad; the look on his face was obvious that he hadn't been listening.
"Well," Number 2 said with a stammer, "It's pretty clear that they are reconstructing missiles in this base. It appears that the parts are brought in by trucks that are meant to look like a cleanup crew. I think Number 1 had some pictures of that?"
Number 1 looked at him through his black shades and shook his head slightly as if to hide it from everyone else.
"Oh," Number 2 laughed nervously, "Well, anyway, some of the vehicles that you see in the satellite footage are trucks that are designed to look like it's hauling clean up equipment, but they are actually hauling missile material. We witnessed the work that was taking place at this site as well as two others and it looked as though there were missiles being built and all within various stages. The size and material being used looked, to me, like they could be building ICBM's."
"So what's the overall picture here?" Number 5 asked rhetorically.
"We have a high profile stockholder that is buying up these missile sites and apparently constructing weapons. He's no doubt using material and resources supplied from the other stockbrokers as well." Number 362 perked up, "That is the connection. The question now is one of motive. Why would they be doing this?"
"Obviously what they are doing in violation of international law. They are manufacturing weapons that are most certainly capable of hitting other countries without the permission of the government or the military." Number 1 replied.
"That's assuming that they don't have permission, baby." Number 5 said with a playful smile.
"What is going on here?" Number 362 asked again, looking around the room, "We have this group of people generating a small fortune of untraceable cash to buy up old military sites so they can build missiles? What is the point of that? Are they selling them?"
"They surely wouldn't be selling the missiles for money because they have a pyramid scheme for that." Number 274 said, leaning back in his chair.
"They're MISSILES! If I was building missiles, I would be building them to use them…not sell, that's for sure." Number 4 said with a smirk, elbowing Number 3 with his good arm. She winced in pain and shot him an angry look.
The air crackled with tension as the idea began to sink in. It was the most obvious conclusion, but obviously one that no one wanted to consider as a possibility. It was too farfetched to be true.
"Use them to what end?" Number 362 asked thoughtfully.
She turned to Number 1 who had a look of horror on his face, "Number 1, see if you can bring up that flow chart I have stored on the server that lists the stockholders."
Number 1 started typing at the console that was next to the projector to bring up the recently viewed file. When he pulled it up, there were pictures that shot up onto the wall complete with listings and vague red lines that connected certain stockholders with others. It was similar to the string diagram that Number 362 had kept on her wall.
Number 362 stood up, out of her chair, and read the listings out loud, "Oil, steel, plastics, rubber, vehicle manufacturing, pharmaceuticals, electronics, etc. Many of these companies have had military contracts in the past and nearly all of them will benefit heavily if we were launched into some sort of ground war."
"No way," Number 274 said, startled, "There is no way that we're talking about this. You are saying that these companies are preparing to launch a full scale war!"
"War profiteering is an old idea," Number 362 responded, "There has always been an element in society of the wealthiest using their money to help influence the world events. In many cases, those contributions were "charitable". Powerful people would start groups to help further their political causes. Unfortunately, it looks like this is a case of these CEO's using their money to bring the entire society into the distress and oppression of war. After all, if a war begins, someone is going to have to provide the military with all the products that these monopolies offer."
Everyone turned to Number 274 who was standing up also.
"You are talking about a conspiracy to start a war, Rachel. Do you know how crazy that sounds? These companies are working together, behind the scenes, to launch missiles; against what country? There is no way that the government would allow that."
"The government most likely wouldn't know until it was too late…that or they are in on it." Nigel responded, "How low is the approval rating for our President?"
Number 2 started to respond but was cut off by Number 274.
"Yeah, but we are talking about private citizens using weapons of war. Someone would have caught on to it by now."
"How?" Number 362 interrupted, "How would anyone find out? These companies have no connections in the public eye. It just so happened that we uncovered the connections that they have, buried amidst piles of paper work! No one would ever think to look where we have, and who would question it if they did? We live in a world where people are naturally inclined to take a back seat. Is there anyone that takes a personal interest in the world around them? How many will die because of this war profiteering. These people are willing to sacrifice innocent lives to secure their profits, are those lives not worth fighting for? If we believe in natural rights, do they not extend to every one of those lives?"
No one else dared speak as the grimaces and sneers of the stockholders in their pictures judged them from the daunting projection; these masterminds who would work behind the scenes to bring about their selfish end at the expense of the people.
Number 274 stared at the table in front of him, "If this is true and we accept this challenge, then failure is not an option. We have to decide, right here; right now, that we will stop this no matter what happens, even if it exposes the entire organization and we go down with the ship. This might be the unraveling of our organization; the very thing that takes us down. I just want everyone to understand the severity of what we are talking about."
"Or…this might be the very reason we were brought together; to stop this shadow from descending on our country." Number 1 said sternly.
"Brought together by what exactly, Number 1?" Number 274 asked despondently.
"Destiny," Number 1 replied, staring at them with steeled eyes through his glossy shades.
Number 274 shook his head and sighed, "All right then, where do we begin?"
Number 362 leaned on the table, "I think we should continue on course, we need to figure out what is supposed to be delivered at the docks. Now that we know what this syndicate considers priority, we should be able to discover what is waiting for us at the docks, if we can get inside."
"I can probably get some fake ID's and papers for Sector V as health inspectors or union officials, something like that should get us past the preliminaries," Number 86 said confidently; if there was one thing Fanny knew how to do well, it was her job.
"It will have to be someone who would be there before the dockhands arrived," Number 1 added, "Mr. Boss had mentioned that the operation was to be scheduled for a time that was before the normal business of the docks commenced."
Number 362 sat in her chair, elbow on the table and chin on her fist, staring off into the distance, lost in her thoughts, as the rest of the operatives discussed a plan of attack for the docks.
It shouldn't be too hard," Number 86 continued, "to get you in as an OSHA representative; they have a multitude of employees and are constantly making rounds at the docks, including surprise inspections."
"Whatever you end up finding out there Number 1," Number 274 interjected, "you need to make sure to have arrangements to get it airlifted it out of there fast. I think that I can coordinate with Sector G in Georgia to have a S.C.A.M.P.E.R. or two available to help. They are our Sector in the south eastern part of the United States. I'll get Sector Leader Number 985 on the line and get back to you."
"Do you think it's something that we really want to confiscate?" Number 65.3 whined in his high pitched voice, "That will almost certainly put us on the grid. They'll just report it as stolen merchandise and we'll have a lot more people on our trail than normal."
"Actually he might be right, that may not be the best idea," Number 86 piped in, interrupting Number 65.3's train of thought.
"Look at it this way," Number 5 interjected, "If it is some sort of contraband, then they won't report it as stolen. That might actually work to our advantage; they won't want to risk exposure."
"Number 2," Number 362 asked softly, still looking off into the distance, "Do you have equipment to detect radiation?"
The chatter stopped almost immediately and an eerie silence flooded the room.
"Excuse me?" Number 274 asked, "What did you say?"
Rachel, without moving her head, rolled her blue eyes in his direction, "I was wondering how effective Sector V might be in detecting radiation on this mission, specifically that which might come from nuclear material."
"Nuclear material?" Number 274 asked, visibly frustrated at the sudden complication, "Why would you ask about that?"
Number 362 leaned back into her chair with a sigh, "…Because that is most certainly what is to be found at the Morgan and Bros Shipping Company."
Number 1 smiled, he was eagerly waiting to hear which breadcrumb had led her to her conclusions.
"I was sitting here thinking about all of the info that Number 2 offered about the material, as well as some of the photos that Sector V took and it dawned on me that something very important was missing…a payload." Number 362 said softly, tapping her turquoise colored nails on the table.
"Oh gosh!," Number 2 exclaimed with a pale look on his face, "You're right. I never saw any evidence of a payload of any type!" His hands were shaking profusely as he tried to flip through the pages of his report. He turned in his chair and started point haphazardly at Number 5. "That includes that one site that we visited in which several missiles seemed to be finished," he said.
"A payload?" Number 3 squealed as she leapt up from her chair, clasping her sleeve covered hands together, "Ooh! What are we going to buy? Can we buy some pets for the HQ building Maybe some hamsters?"
Number 274 leaned back in his chair and laid his head against the head rest, rubbing his face with his hands as he realized the world had just gotten much darker.
"I'm not saying that they are arming all of the missiles with nuclear material," Number 362 said, "That much material would probably send up a red flag somewhere. However, one nuclear bomb going off would certainly be a strong enough catalyst; the other missiles are probably in preparation for the forthcoming war. In order for these stockholders to have the security that they seek from war profiteering, it would have to be a ground war. Nothing would start that faster than a nuclear strike somewhere in the globe."
"Nuclear material is probably easily detected by typical dock inspections," Number 1 added, "So that is a good reason to move the shipment before the dock gets too crowded."
Number 274 finally leaned forward and back into the conversation.
"Listen guys," he said, seemingly stressed, "I hear what you all are saying, but if it's true that the material in question is nuclear, we have no choice but to report it and let Homeland Security sift through it and confiscate it."
Number 1 leaned his palms against the table, facing the operatives; his face as granite, "I don't think that we can afford that."
"I don't think we can afford not to, Number 1". Number 274 said with angst and jumping to his feet, "If we don't report something like that, we'll be held liable. I don't think we're qualified to handle anything of this magnitude."
"We're the only ones qualified to handle this," Number 1 barked back, "No one has done the work that we have done, no one has shown the concern that we have shown, and no one is asking the questions that we have asked…NO ONE CARES!"
Everyone was quiet.
"Is there no media? Are there no reporters? Is there no opposing side in this country?" Number 1 asked, his black shades glaring down upon the rest of the operatives, "There are plenty of people out there that could have been where we are now, but they're not. They're turning a blind eye to what should be blatantly obvious. Who are we going to report it to?"
There was more silence. Every operative had a grim look on their face, except for Rachel, who had the same optimistic smile that she always had.
"What should we do?" Number 86 whispered quietly.
"We find out what is going on at the docks, two days from now. We'll need those ID's Number 86, as soon as you can get them. Number 274, you need to get Sector G on the spoke in case we needs reinforcements, they might be the only ticket to getting that cargo out of there if something goes wrong." Number 1 responded.
The operatives began to gather their things to leave the room, revived with a new sense of direction. They had a lot of work to do in a short amount of time.
"Class act, baldy," Number 274 said with a smile. He stood up and put his hand on Nigel's shoulder as they shuffled out the door. He pulled on Number 1's shoulder a second too long, holding him back as the rest of the operatives filed out. Number 1 turned around slowly and saw Chad's face inches away from his.
"Listen Number 1" Number 274 whispered, "I heard what you said back there and I'm with you; in fact, you've got no bigger fan than me. However, I'm serious about the nuclear thing. We'll play it your way because it will be your team on the line and I trust you. You might be right about no one caring, but you might also be wrong. If that cargo turns out to be nuclear in nature and the operation doesn't pan out, we need to report it. We need to let the officials handle it."
Number 1 smiled through his black shades. He and Chad had come a long way. They understood each other; they had a history that their friendship was rooted in.
"Fair enough," Nigel said, shaking Chad's hand.
There was work to do.