Memorial Day

Ninety

Rapp tried to recall the bomb-damage assessment Reimer had given him while he waited for the senior energy official to answer his phone. This thing was supposed to be in the fifteen-kiloton range, with a warhead roughly the size of a volleyball. It would leave a crater a half mile across and vaporize everything above ground for one and a half miles. The blast effects would cause damage as far away as ten miles, and the radioactive plume would go as far as the prevailing wind could take it.

When Reimer finally answered, Rapp asked, "Paul, we've found the boat, and I spotted something lashed to the aft swim deck. Would this device fit in one of the those big fishing coolers?"

Reimer was at the DOE's Germantown facility with his top people. "It would depend on what they were using for an explosive charge, but yes...I suppose it would."

"All right..."

"Where is the boat?"

"It's about a mile south of the Woodrow Wilson Bridge traveling north."

"Hold on, let me look at the map. A mile south of the Woodrow Wilson Bridge," Reimer repeated. "That's eight miles from the White House and the Capitol, and seven from the Pentagon. Mitch, we have to stop this boat as soon as possible. I won't waste your time giving you the details, but there is a consensus between our scientists and the Russians that this thing will not reach its full yield of fifteen kilotons. If we can keep the device outside a six-mile radius, I think we can save everything north and east of the National Mall. The Pentagon also stands a good chance of surviving the blast because of the way it's designed."

"What about the radiation?"

"The wind is from the east and it's picking up. Rural Virginia and possibly West Virginia would get hit hard with fallout, but if the wind stays constant, downtown Washington should be spared."

"So the sooner we stop this thing the better."

"Absolutely."

"Where's your Search Response Team?"

"One's on their way back up from Richmond, and the other one's downtown by the National Mall."

"Get the one downtown a helicopter ASAP, and I'll call you back with further instructions."

Rapp closed his phone and poked his head up into the cockpit. "The AWACS give you a speed yet?"

"Twenty mph."

"Ask them how long it'll take for the boat to reach the Woodrow Wilson Bridge."

The pilot asked the question, and about five seconds later he had an answer. "They'll be at the bridge in three minutes and twenty seconds approximately."

"Where's that Park Police chopper?"

"He's still headed downriver."

"Tell him to turn around and hightail it back up here. I want him flying low and fast right up the east side of the river."

SEAL Team Six was still a good fifteen minutes away, and the HRT would take even longer. At twenty mph they would cover a mile every three minutes. By the time SEAL Team Six was here, the boat would be within three miles of the White House. He looked out the cockpit window at the Beltway and the Woodrow Wilson Bridge and said, "All right, here's the plan."

RAPP EXPLAINED INdetail to the pilots exactly what he wanted to do, and then did the same with the four men from the CIA's SWAT team. The helicopter landed at Jones Point Park on the western bank of the Potomac, just north of the Woodrow Wilson Bridge where they were well concealed from the river traffic. Two men got out and ran down to the river's edge while Rapp and Brooks hit the quick-release latches on the helicopter's starboard and port doors so they could take them off and get them out of their way. Rapp then jogged down to the riverbank with his phone to his ear. He didn't have time to call all the people who he should, so he decided to just call one.

When Flood came on the line Rapp said, "General, I'm down here under the Woodrow Wilson Bridge, and I think I've found our boat."

"The Woodrow Wilson Bridge? Where in the hell is that?"

"It's where the Beltway crosses the Potomac River about six miles south of you."

"And where is the boat?"

"About a mile south headed upriver."

"Jesus Christ!"

"I know. I just went over everything with Paul Reimer. He says it's crucial that we stop this bomb before it gets any further north. I've got a four-man tactical team with me from Langley and I'm going to take this boat down when it comes under the bridge. That is unless you want me to wait around for the HRT to arrive...in which case you should be able to look out your window at the Pentagon and watch the takedown in person."

"If you think you have the assets to handle the job, Mitch, then do it and do it quickly."

"I thought that's what you'd say. Just in case something goes wrong, your AWACS has a bead on this boat. So if we fail, have them vector Six's strike team in on the target, and tell them not to hit the cooler sitting on the aft swim deck because I think that's where the bomb is." Rapp reached the edge of the river and looked out past the bridge's concrete supports. Traffic was whizzing by overhead on the six-lane interstate. "I've got to go now, general. I'll call you back in a few minutes when I'm in control of the vessel."

Rapp closed the phone and shoved it into his breast pocket. He could see the boat heading their way and behind it the Park Police helicopter was closing fast. He checked his watch and then said to Brooks's men, "I'd grab that spot right over there in those bushes."

"I was thinking the same thing," answered the former Marine sniper.

"All right, get ready, and don't shoot unless you see a gun or we give you the word." Rapp took one last peek at the oncoming boat and then ran back to the helicopter.

He climbed in on the starboard side and poked his head up in the cockpit. "You guys have any questions?"

Both pilots shook their heads.

"Good. What's their ETA?"

"Just under a minute."

"And the Park Police helicopter?"

"I don't know."

"See if you can find out. The last thing we want is a midair collision."

While the pilot checked with the AWACS controller, Rapp sat down in the aft-facing portside seat. He loosened the seat belt as far as it would go and then fastened it. With one of the silenced MP5s in hand he sat on the edge of the seat, shouldered the weapon, and leaned against the seat belt. He was left-handed, so the position allowed him to clear the door frame with little difficulty. He looked at Brooks, who was sitting directly across from him. The team leader did the same thing, and both men flashed each other the thumbs-up sign.

Rapp looked at the former Ranger who had given him his silenced MP5. "Stan, remember...don't draw your pistol until you hit the deck. We'll cover you. Go straight for the helm, and don't pull back on the throttles until the helicopter is clear. The pilot is going to be matching speed at twenty mph going sideways, so if you pull back on the throttles too fast you might get your head chopped off."

The former Ranger nodded.

"Here we go," yelled the pilot.

The helicopter lifted slowly from the rain-soaked grass and moved into a hover twenty feet off the ground. They were now perfectly parallel with the bridge. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, they began to move forward, staying hidden behind the bulky concrete span that carried traffic from one state to another. They moved out over the river foot by foot and then stopped a little over a third of the way across. Even though it was expected, the arrival of the Park Police helicopter was startling. It blew over the bridge and then dipped back down to a mere fifty feet off the water, its engine and rotors roaring.

The CIA helicopter began inching its way forward again, in an effort to get to the exact place where the boat would appear. Rapp was leaning out as far as he could to try and get a view of the boat as it came under the bridge. A few seconds later the bow poked out from the shadows, and then the windscreen. As the boat came into the clear the helicopter began to descend and then slide sideways. The pilots did a perfect job bringing them in right behind the boat and then matching its speed and course.

Rapp looked through the hoop sight of his submachine gun and zeroed in on the head of a man who was staring through the windscreen of the boat at the Park Police helicopter that was racing upriver. The man slowly turned, realizing that something was now behind them. Rapp watched him intently, looking for the slightest reason to squeeze the trigger. The helicopter was closing distance on the boat. They were no more than thirty yards away. Only a few seconds had ticked by, but for Rapp, the scene was unfolding in slow motion.

The man, who was tall and dark-skinned with short black hair, turned and looked directly at Rapp. In that fraction of a second, the man did something that was entirely unexpected given the situation. He smiled.

Rapp had his weapon pulled firmly against his left shoulder and at the very first hint of the smirk he squeezed the trigger twice in less than a half second. Instantly, the muzzle of the submachine gun moved to the right and found the driver of the boat. The helicopter was even closer now. Just as the man was turning, Rapp squeezed off two more quick shots, both of them striking their target just above the left ear.