P Deutermann - The Moonpool

His eyes rolled back in his head and he went limp.

I rolled free with a shudder and wiped off my hands in the pine needles.

The moonpool was a diversion after all? Obviously Trask had given Moira access to the plant’s security computers. Was he telling me she might have access to the main reactor control system as well?

I tried to remember what Ari had said about that-same system, or were they split? Now that the moonpool was stabilized, they’d stand down from the emergency-and then she’d strike.

I looked over at that canal; the current was still running, and I thought I could smell diesel fuel now. Would the Helios people be expecting a second attack? I remembered the utter confusion at that university in Virginia, when they thought the shooting in the dorm was the main event and stopped looking.

I saw something moving through the upper branches of the trees. It looked like a blue ghost. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and looked again. Then it penetrated: blue strobe lights from a police car, reflecting off the tree trunks. Then there were headlights pointing down the towpath. I waited until the lights were shining right over my head and raised one bloody arm. The cop car dipped to a stop and two sets of doors clunked open. I kept the arm in the air until I knew they could see me, or rather us. I heard one of them say, “Holy shit,” and then there was lots of excited radio conversation.

“Goddamn, bud-what the hell happened here?” one of them asked, approaching warily with his weapon in hand but held down by his leg. Trask lay facedown on the ground, the barrel of the M4 still pinning him.

I didn’t know if they were county or Southport, but I told him to contact Sergeant McMichaels at Southport and tell him they’d found Trask and Richter. Then I lay back in the needles to rest as they played flashlights around the scene. They obviously thought I was wounded, based on the fact that my entire left side was glistening with all that blood, and I wasn’t going to clarify that right now because they’d put their weapons away. Then I remembered Billy.

“There’s another one out there,” I said. “Back along the towpath, not too far from the perimeter fence at Helios. He’ll need a meat wagon.”

“What happened to him?”

“He shot my shepherds.”

“He hurt bad?” the cop asked, radio microphone in hand.

“Not bad enough,” I said.

Once the reports went in to their dispatcher, I asked them to get a message to the FBI in Wilmington.

“Report the same names,” I said. “Trask and Richter. Then tell them there may be a second attack, on the reactors this time.”

The cop’s eyes went wide. “Second attack?” he said. “Whole county’s going apeshit right now. Some shit about radiation in the water supply-you saying this was deliberate?”

I nodded and told him to ask for Special Agent Caswell at the Wilmington RA, and to make sure they knew this was a no-shitter.

“How do you know all this, mister?”

I pointed at the corpse of Carl Trask lying next to me. “This is the guy who did it,” I said. “But it’s not over. They must shut that plant down.”

I could see he was hesitating.

“Okay, look,” I said. “You got a cell phone I can use?”

He looked at his partner, who nodded. Then he passed me his cell. He was a county deputy, as revealed by his shoulder patch. I used my right hand so as not to get blood on it.

I called 911. The operator came on, but instead of the standard what-is-your-emergency, she simply stated that the system was in overload and that they could not take any reports right now. I asked her to patch me through to the central control room at the Helios power plant and said that this was a radiation emergency. She said they already had one of those. She sounded pretty frazzled, and I could just imagine what the 911 center looked like tonight.

“Listen, operator,” I said, “right now you’ve got a possible radiation problem in the water system. Unless you want to see the sun rise in the west tonight, patch me through, please.”

She had to think about that for a second or two, but then my meaning penetrated. “Right,” she said. “Patching.”

While I waited, I tried to think of what to say that would get their undivided attention. A man finally answered the call, identified himself as the Helios control center duty engineer, and asked if I could please hold.

“No!” I shouted, startling the two deputies. “This is Lieutenant Richter. One of the people who attacked the moonpool tonight has hacked into your reactor control system.”

“What?” he said. “Hold on.” He sounded tired and harassed, but then he put his hand over the mouthpiece and called out to someone. Then I heard a woman’s voice say, “Give me that.” I thought I recognized that voice. Sure enough, my favorite Russian came on the line.

“Who is this, please?”

I told her. She started yelling at me about making infantile crank calls when responsible engineers were dealing with a genuine emergency. I knew she was going to hang up in a second, so I broke into her tirade.

“Shut your mouth, you stupid, arrogant bitch,” I yelled. “She’s got your whole system-your reactor controls and probably all your safeguard systems.”

“What? What?! What are you saying to me?”

I was having trouble concentrating. “Is your RCS responding to you?” I asked.

A split-second hesitation. “I am not permitted-”

“Trask gave her the codes. You have an expert hacker riding your system. If you have a manual mode, now’s the time, comrade. Remember Chernobyl.” I was trying desperately to remember the word Ari had used. Run. Fall.

No, scram.

“Scram those reactors, before she shuts down your control room.”

In the background I heard someone yell that Unit One was ramping to full power, uncommanded. She hung up on me. I lay back in the pine needles, suddenly conscious of the two deputies gaping at me.

“Which way is the wind coming from right now?” I asked one of them. It took him a few seconds to realize I’d just asked him a question.

“Uh, why?” he said.

“Guess,” I said, as a second set of blue lights began to show through the trees, followed by the wail of an approaching ambulance.

I let them transport me to the ER along with what was left of Carl Trask. I figured that federal agents of some variety would be along soon enough. Once the ER people cleaned me up and realized I wasn’t really injured, I was sent back out to the waiting room while they dealt with the loaded and chambered assault rifle sticking out of Trask’s back.

It was zero dark thirty, and I was done. I didn’t want to play twenty questions with anyone, so I asked the front desk to call me a taxi, let myself out the front door, and had the guy take me to the beach house in Southport. I wanted to take a long, hot shower, but, of course, there was no water pressure. I knew that, I told myself. I had a Scotch instead, and then had an idea. This was a beach house.

I went outside and walked across the street, onto the beach, and right into the water. What was I thinking: That water was cold as ice, but it did the job. I stood out there up to my neck, occasionally dousing my face, and grateful for the lack of any real surf. When some submerged thing bumped my right leg, I decided enough was enough. I went back inside the house, stripped down in the kitchen, had another Scotch, and fell into the bed. My hands and face still smelled of pine pitch. It was better than snake.

Buroids were on deck bright and early the next morning. There was some heavy-duty cop-knocking on the front door, and then they waltzed right in. When they got upstairs and found me sitting up in bed, one agent told me to get up and get dressed while the other notified someone via radio that the subject had been apprehended.