Going back tom novak boo.., p.27
Going Back: Tom Novak Book Three, page 27
The only sound in the car was the roar of the engine as they continued north.
‘Is now a good time to ask where the GPS tag was?’ said Buster.
Tom’s face gave nothing away; it was a blank mask as he considered his options.
‘Right, we continue to the RVP and reassess. I need some clear thinking and suggestions from everyone.’ Tom paused as he pressed the transmit switch. ‘All units, drones have gone. Repeat, drones have gone. Jane, they have unpacked the drones and left the crates. The GPS tag was secreted in one of the crates. We now don’t have a live link to where they are,’
Jane’s tone was calm and collected, as expected. ‘Received here. I will despatch CSIs to the farmhouse to retrieve any evidence. What are our options?’
‘Can Tiny keep on with ANPR?’
‘Consider it done,’ Tiny’s voice boomed out of the speakers.
‘I’m open to suggestions, guys,’ Tom said to Buster and Pet.
‘Fuck knows, mate,’ said Buster. ‘I ain’t here for my brains or looks. We need to catch a break. We are hot on their heels so we need to look for any high value targets that may be vulnerable to EMP. Is that a start?’
‘It is actually a very good suggestion, but there must be loads of potentials: water, power, internet, GPS systems, dams, wind farms. The list goes on.’
‘There must be something,’ said Buster.
A thought flashed through Tom’s mind; something Havers had said.
‘Fear,’ Tom exclaimed.
‘Pardon?’ said Pet.
‘Havers, the bent bloke at the US Embassy. When we were interrogating him, he talked about fear, almost as if it was a weapon in itself. He said that the intention was for the lights to go out and spread fear among the population when the supermarket shelves empty. It’s a power station, or power stations. It has to be. They are wanting to turn the lights out, that’s what they want. What major power infrastructure facilities do we have nearby, Pet?’
Pet began tapping at her computer. ‘North of here we have plenty of active substations, major pylons crossing the country. There are hydro dams and a significant amount of windfarms both on- and offshore. We have Torness power station half an hour up the coast road in Dunbar and Hartlepool almost two hours south of us. There is—’
‘Hold up, say that again.’ Tom shouted, looking in the mirror at Pet.
‘Torness power station.’ Pet looked puzzled.
‘That’s it. That’s fucking it. Don’t you see? It’s the Chernobyl effect, right?’
‘Tom, what the pissing hell are you going on about?’ Buster said.
‘Torness is a nuclear power station. It has two reactors. I remember it from a few years ago: jellyfish gummed up the cooling water intakes and they had to shut the reactor down. People were terrified thinking that that part of Scotland was going to be reduced to a nuclear wasteland. It would be ten times worse now with social media how it is, irrespective of whether it’s feasible or not. People would panic; this is exactly what the investors want.’ Tom’s eyes were shining.
‘Holy shit! What the fuck would a couple of big bastard drones do to a nuke power station?’ Buster had a rare ability to deploy old English oaths, and he excelled himself often, but right now, they both shared his sentiments.
‘I really have no idea, Buster. Whichever, the fear of a meltdown is what they are after. I need to speak to Jane on the phone, I’m not putting this on the net. Pet keep monitoring for any drone activity; that is still our best bet but, once they are up, unless we are close enough, it’s too late,’ Tom said pulling over to the side of the road, ‘Take over driving, Buster, we still RVP in Berwick.’
*
Jane put the phone down with a sense of dread. A nuclear power station, as much as she wanted it to not be true, she had to admit that it certainly seemed to be the most likely target.
Mike looked at her as she recounted Tom’s hypotheses and his reasoning for it.
‘I have to say, I see Tom’s way of thinking. Havers did use the analogy of fear being the strongest weapon, lights out and empty shelves. You want to know something pretty secret?’
‘That depends, Mike.’
‘The threat assessment for EMP is really high in the States. The president has allocated huge resources into research and development of infrastructure protection against EMP from terrorist or rogue nation strikes. The nuclear energy industry has made some overt claims that an EMP strike on a nuclear power plant would not be overly worrisome, but you know something else?’
‘I suspect you’re going to tell me.’
‘It’s considered to be bullshit by some experts. The reality is that nobody has a clue what would happen to a nuclear power station if struck by a serious EMP microwave burst.’
‘I need to speak to someone at the Civil Nuclear Constabulary, we can’t keep this under wraps with them, they will need to beef their security up massively.’
*
Jane sat with Mike in front of the large screen, waiting for the video conference which had quickly been arranged by the Commissioner’s staff officer.
The tone that emitted through the speakers indicated that all parties were now ready to begin. Two figures appeared on a split screen, one wearing the blue uniform with insignia of the Civil Nuclear Constabulary, the other in casual clothing.
‘Good evening, gentlemen. Thank you for agreeing to this video conference, which I accept is slightly irregular, but I hope we can agree that in the circumstances is necessary. I must apologise for the Commissioner’s absence, but she is briefing COBRA as we speak. Introductions first: I am DCS Jane Milligan from Covert Policing Advice, this is Mike Brogan from the US Embassy.’ Mike nodded at the introduction.
‘I am Assistant Chief Constable William Donaldson, Civil Nuclear Police.’
‘Professor David Gillam; I am the CEO of the Atomic Energy Authority,’ the other man spoke in a soft Scottish accent and had the look of a scientist about him, his rumpled cardigan, scruffy hair and bushy moustache giving him an intellectual appearance.
‘Thank you, gentlemen. We have identified what we believe to be a significant threat against somewhere in Scotland, probably Torness power plant. We have good intelligence that there are six heavy-capacity drones, with extended range built into them all, carrying a powerful weapon capable of delivering a powerful EMP burst. We do not know exactly what the target is, but we strongly suspect that a nuclear power plant is the most likely.’ Jane spoke quickly and efficiently, using her words sparingly and wisely.
There was a pause as both men digested the information.
‘Can I ask how reliable this intelligence is?’ Donaldson asked.
‘Very. We have had an operator visibly see the drones and, until very recently, we were tracking them until we lost the signal a while ago, somewhere close to Berwick-Upon-Tweed. We have had intelligence facilities deployed and we have no doubt that the devices are viable.’
‘How can you be sure that Torness is the intended target?’ Donaldson asked.
‘We can’t, in short. The proximity of Torness and the nature of their journey makes it our primary concern, but we also accept that we have other nuclear sites within a few hours, and at present we cannot track the devices or the operators.’
‘This is our problem, Jane. We have other power stations within a few hours of Berwick. Hunterston B and Hartlepool are all within easy striking distance. Why Torness?’
‘My operative on the ground strongly feels that that is by far the most likely, as the drones were clearly being prepared for flight close by at a remote facility, and it seems they are all now active and ready for deployment. It seems unlikely to us that they would undertake this preparation if they were to travel any further than necessary.’
‘Is there no way of tracking them?’ Professor Gillam asked.
‘Only once they power them up and they begin flying. They are using mobile phone SIMs as part of their navigation system. We have the facility to track them, once active, but it is not accurate, and we don’t know the extent of it. Our feeling is that it is a backup system.’
‘Then we will have some advance warning, at least?’
‘Well, yes, but we won’t have GPS data, just cell sites which will only give approximate locations.’
The ACC crossed his legs and cleared his throat before speaking again. ‘Jane, if I’m honest, I am not worrying about this. At the moment, nothing you have said so far causes me any great angst. A recent risk assessment by experts concluded that any drone threat was minimal. Our facilities are extremely secure, and the limited range and payload capacity is so small that it would be akin to a small boy using a peashooter to attack a fort. I will raise the threat level at all our facilities, and we will have expert armed officers on standby. Any drones that come close will be shot out of the sky,’ his smile was as insincere as it was arrogant.
‘Well I am worried, Bill,’ Professor Gillam said. ‘Is this an explosively pumped flux weapon?’
‘Yes,’ said Jane. ‘We have good intelligence to support this.’
‘Do we know a potential power output?’
‘No, we don’t have that information.’
‘I have to say, this makes me very uncomfortable.’ Professor Gillam wiped his brow.
‘But David. The core is under massive amounts of concrete, all the control systems are secure, I can’t see how it will threaten the facility,’ the ACC seemed a bit less certain than before.
‘Well, I’m afraid that I do not share your confidence. I am not completely sure of the effect that a well-directed EMP blast will cause. If it stops the water pump, disables security, destroys diesel generators and control systems, the system could overheat, and we won’t be able to enable a safe shut down. I can’t be sure—I have no idea, in fact—but it may cause a meltdown, it may not. We are in unknown territory here.’
‘David, can you be sure?’ The ACC looked distinctively uncomfortable now.
‘I can’t be sure of a single thing. This is unprecedented, Bill. It may not make a scratch, or it may cause a full safety emergency with a nuclear escape. Whatever you have to do to beef security or stop this threat, I suggest you do it. And do it fast.’
49
Tom, Buster, and Pet sat in their car waiting. Just waiting. None of them particularly knew exactly what they were waiting for, so the feeling of impotence was strong. Tom had made the call an hour ago that he would be better served splitting his resources, so he had despatched his teams so he had a unit West of Edinburgh and the remainder, including the bikes, close by. They had edged further north, closing the distance between them and Torness. He remained convinced that the last location, when the drones were removed from the crates, indicated that the targets would be close by.
‘Can we play I Spy?’ said Buster, sarcastically.
‘Only if you want a punch in the face,’ Tom replied.
‘I Spy sucks,’ added Pet, and the car returned to its previous silence.
Jane had just recently called with the news that the leading expert on nuclear power plants was distinctly worried about the consequences of an EMP strike on a power station. COBRA was being briefed and were currently deliberating. Tom looked at his watch and saw that it was nearly twenty-past ten. He could imagine the political hand-wringing that would be going on at that moment.
Pressing his radio switch, he said, ‘Alpha three are you in position?’
‘Yes, yes. West of Edinburgh, just off M9.’
‘All other units hold close by my location and wait for updates.’
Tom only half listened as the acknowledgements came in.
There was nothing else they could do. It was like being in the military again. Holding up, bored, waiting for what could be a short, sharp, and highly dangerous mission.
‘Coffee?’ Buster asked.
‘Oh yeah, I could do coffee,’ Pet said, brightening.
‘Go on, then. There was a garage just a couple of miles back,’ Tom said.
‘You’re buying, Borat. The amount of fucking overtime you must have pulled in in the last few days,’ Buster started the car and pulled out of their layby, back towards the all-night garage they had passed a while ago.
Jane’s voice popped up on the radio. ‘Tom, COBRA have met and an SAS team from Hereford are being briefed but will need some response time and then travelling time to get to you.’
‘Yes, all received. No ETA, I take it.’
‘No, but it will be hours even if they are flying; stay alert, people.’
‘Typical Hereford; top blokes but I’ve a nasty feeling they’ll be a bit late for this party,’ said Buster, shaking his head.
Pulling into the garage Tom said, ‘My shout then.’ He got out of the car and crossed the forecourt to the brightly lit shop, jamming his earpiece in as he did.
Once inside he used the coffee machine and began the process of dispensing three coffees into the large paper cups. Screwing the lids on, he walked up to the cashier and paid, yawning as he did so. He really needed the caffeine, barely having slept for a few days.
Suddenly Pet’s voice crackled in his ear. ’We have an activation. Drone has just come online, hitting a cell mast in Falkirk. Hold up, another activation: three are now online, the other two close by.’
Leaving the coffees with the perplexed-looking cashier, Tom ran out and jogged over to the car.
‘Show me,’ he said as he climbed in. Pet turned the screen towards him: pulsating blue dots were positioned to the north and west, with two fairly close to their location.
‘Only three. Can you overlay with any potential targets? Power stations, dams, hospitals, anything?’
Tiny’s voice came over the net. ‘I’ve been messing about in maps at your location and we have a number of potentials, guys. The model I have lists a number of priorities. I’m mirroring them over to you, but you have three major power substations right slap bang in the centre of each of the cell activation areas. I’ve narrowed them down as much as I can and applied the azimuth. I am sure the targets are the power substations at SP Energy near Falkirk, Crystal Rig and Dunbar close to your location. We need to get people there, pronto.’ Tiny didn’t get excited much, so his words had impact.
‘Agreed. Alpha three to SP Energy, Alpha four to Dunbar and five to Crystal Rig. Alphas six, seven and eight remain with us, all units acknowledge.’ Tom’s voice was calm.
As the acknowledgements came through one by one Buster spoke, quietly, almost anticipating the answer.
‘How about us, Tom?’
‘There are still three drones out there, mate. I think we can guess where they are going to be targeting.’
A deep, cloying silence enveloped the car. Things were about to get very lively.
‘Buster, let’s move up closer. Head north towards Thorntonloch, there’s a caravan site there by the beach,’ said Tom as he studied the map on the iPad.
Buster said nothing, just shifted the gear stick and pulled away.
50
Babić stepped out of the Nissan that had just pulled up on the beach and took a deep breath of the sea air as a Ranger pulled up alongside. The two huge Russians stepped out of the front of the Nissan, joined by the two from the Ranger all cradling their submachine guns and surveying the scene around them.
The waves lapped gently in the gloom and the warm, balmy evening was quiet and peaceful. He looked ahead where he could see the harsh arc lights from their objective: the nuclear power plant in the distance. He wondered with a smile how much longer the lights would be operational for. Looking at his watch he saw that it was only five minutes before eleven; all the drones had shown on Cerović’s map, so it was also safe to assume that they were ready to deploy. Any time now, he thought. Then he would be a rich man and he could escape all this crap.
Cerović was outside of the car, unfolding the struts on the two drones and attaching the rotors carefully, tightening all the fastenings.
Babić walked across the sand to Cerović. ‘All in order?’
‘All looking good. Ready to power up at 2300, as you said.’
‘Not a moment before.’ He looked at his iPad, noting the three pulses at each electricity substation. Soon they would be up and flying, ready to snuff out the power and plunge Edinburgh into darkness. A feeling of prickling anticipation coursed through his veins. The money was a driving force, but he had to admit, the power over other humans was intoxicating.
He continued to stare at his watch, the digital numbers turning over as the time eased closer to 11pm. When the digits shifted to read 23:00 he smiled and simply said, ‘Power up, Cerović. Input the GPS coordinates and be ready on my mark.’
‘Ready when you are, man,’ replied Cerović.
‘Lock in the course and set the detonation sequence.’
‘Done.’
A muffled ping came from Babić’s pocket. The investors. His brow furrowed; this was unexpected.
He stepped into the Nissan and opened the secure messaging app.
‘Yes. This is a bad time. We are about to strike on Torness.’
‘Babić, you have a final target. Leave Cerović with two of your men and a vehicle. Take one man, the final drone, and your equipment and head to the coordinates I am sending you now.’ The mechanical voice was suddenly gone, and a set of coordinates popped up on the screen. He clicked on the icon and looked at the map. A slow smile spread across his face.
51
‘We have an activation on the final two drones. Hold up, I’m trying to isolate,’ Pet almost shouted.
‘Tiny are you getting this?’ Tom asked over the radio.
‘Yes, just applying triangulation and azimuth,’ his voice came over the net.
‘Pet, I want you to force Cerović’s phone to power up. He is with those two drones. They are going to strike Torness and he will definitely be there.’
‘Are you sure? It will be obvious, it will be visible, and it may be seen.’
‘Do it. We need GPS coordinates; a cell site isn’t enough, and I am certain that all their attention will be on the drones. Do it now.’
