Shattered Shield: Cole Cameron Thriller Series Book 1 Page 10

  Cameron sat in a maroon high-back chair in the hotel lobby waiting on Amy and Hannah. He could smell the ammonia in the cleaning fluids used by the cleaning woman mopping the floor as he waited.

  As she tossed the mop back and forth, he rolled around in his mind the details of events of the last few days. He still struggled to find a connection between Roslin and the AIJB. How would they have known about the VX? He also had difficulty understanding the actions of Grant.

  The two women entered the lobby, each now wearing jeans. Hannah stood good two-three inches taller than Amy and tossed her dark brown hair as she carefully walked across the wet marble tiles. Amy dropped her laptop down in the oversized chair next to Cameron. Hannah stretched out in the chair across from him.

  “The blast has everything tied up around here. I’ve got a rental car being dropped off,” she said crossing her legs. “I guess your meeting was fruitful?” she said, as she slouched further down in the chair.

  “Thanks for the car. Yeah, based on what I heard. I have a hunch, but I need to see the site.”

  Cameron recognized their exhaustion as Amy yawned.

  “You know, I really can do this one by myself if you guys need some rest,” he offered.

  Hannah appeared somewhat insulted by his suggestion and sat up straight.

  “No way, I’m ready. Besides, you need someone to get you around the FBI field team out there. They’ve been working long hard hours, and they’re not going to like you interfering.”

  “I’m not going to interfere. If the clean-up crew lets me suit up with the protective equipment, I can get what I need and be out of there in no time.”

  “What is it you’re looking for?” Amy asked with another yawn.

  “I’ll know it when I see it,” Cameron said. “Hey, why don’t you grab yourself a cup of coffee, the car should be here soon.”

  Amy nodded and went to get a cup at the counter.

  As she watched Amy leave, Hannah softly asked, “So are you going to tell me about your meeting or what? Does she know where Grant is?”

  Cameron waited for Amy to return and then shared the information he had learned from Clarisse. The attendant from the car rental company came through the door, and Hannah jumped up to take care of the paperwork.

  Cameron and Amy gathered their belongings and soon the three were traveling east on Interstate 10 to get to Roslin’s R & D Center located about twenty-five miles outside the city.

  The barricades with flashing amber lights and yellow police tape greeted them as they arrived on the scene. After getting past the initial screening, they were stopped again before gaining access to the command post stationed some three hundred feet from the facility.

  The staging area was well organized, with huge light stands projecting bright lights against the building. The sound of big diesel generators filled the night air with constant noise. The air sock at the top of the trailer signaled the wind’s direction, letting Cameron know they were upwind and safe from any airborne contaminants.

  It was just a skeleton crew inside the command post. It had been over forty hours since the initial response, and the bulk of responders were getting a much-needed rest. The field agent left in charge for the evening informed the team that the chemical emergency response crew had not released the east wing of the facilities yet.

  He pointed out the area on the blueprints spread across a tall table. Cameron moved his hand across the prints, mapping out his course. The east wing and lobby had been affected the most by the blast.

  “Is the east wing the side that houses the nerve gas research?” Cameron asked, verifying Clarisse’s information.

  “That’s correct,” a voice from the other corner of the trailer said. The man approached and extended his hand to the women and Cameron.

  “This is Jared Baxter,” the FBI agent offered.

  “Facilities director for Roslin,” Baxter completed the introduction.

  “Mr. Baxter has been here the entire time. I keep telling him to go home. He helped us get a video feed of the security cameras recordings just before the blast,” The agent said.

  “Were you able to ID the bomber?” Hannah asked the FBI agent.

  “I haven’t heard yet. We sent it to your hometown.”

  “Who’s your chemical response crew? Is it a Roslin team or contractors?” Cameron asked Baxter.

  “We have a contract with a company called Environmental Dynamics, they’re working in shifts around the clock to provide clean up and decontamination,” Baxter replied.

  “So, I guess that’s their unit just outside with all the gear. I want to suit up, take a quick look and grab a couple of shots with a digital camera.”

  “You’ll have to sort that out with them. I think you have to be trained or something for that equipment,” Baxter said as he ran his hand through his hair.

  “Not a problem,” Cameron said. “In the meantime, Mr. Baxter, would it be possible to get some additional video feed from earlier dates? Ms. Wiggins here has some dates from previous visitors that we wanted to take a look at.”

  “I don’t know,” Baxter stuttered, looking suspiciously at the three. “Maybe I should call Mr. Garrison our Chief of Security, that’s his area, and he got pretty pissed that I didn’t go through him before.”

  Hannah reassured Baxter.

  “Well, we just came from Los Angeles and met with your company’s top executives, including Mr. Garrison and the CEO Mr. Garland. They assured us we would have full cooperation. But if you insist on calling him at 1:30 in the morning go ahead.”

  Baxter conceded.

  “Alright, I’ll be back in a few,” Cameron said stepping out of the command post motioning for Amy and Hannah to follow.

  “We’re looking for two Caucasians, both taller men, visiting at least twice within the last month. One of the dates was March 6th, and they would have a slender African American female escorting them. That should help you filter everything else out.”

  “This is still going to take a while,” Hannah protested.

  “Well, I’ll try to narrow it down and then upload the files to Langley to cross check on facial recognition for our database,” Amy said.

  “That’s right, upload any video feed you can retrieve from the dates and times that match. We need it before Garrison gets involved.” Cameron said just as the FBI agent peered out the door of the command post trailer. Cameron motioned to Hannah with his eyes.

  “Do you have a camera we can use?” she asked, quickly intercepting the agent.

  He then turned and whispered to Amy. “While you’re in the system here, see if you can extract and download any previous backup files on their VX project, especially inventory records. I want to see if they match what we have from LA.”

  Amy nervously replied, “I don’t know, Cole.”

  “Only do it if you’re comfortable. But I have a hunch that if we go through the protocol and the FBI waits for Garrison, any valuable information will be scrubbed,” Cameron said while taking hold of her arm. “Remember our job is to prevent any additional threats, not build a criminal case.”

  “Alright, be careful in there,” she said, while he walked over to the response trailer of the contractor.

  A crew worker asked if he could help and Cameron requested an environmental suit and air pack. “I can’t do that,” the worker insisted.

  “OK, who do I need to speak to that can make that happen?” Cameron asked.

  The worker conveyed a message with his two-way radio. After a few short minutes, the bright lights revealed a lone character in a white environmental suit emerging from the rubble. He stomped into the decontamination area and ripped off his air mask and gloves, cursing.

  “How the hell am I supposed to get any work done with these interruptions?” he paused, noticing Cameron.

  “Do I know you?”

  Cameron remembered the face but could not place the name.

  “Cole Cameron.”

  “Sure, Cole Camer
on. I remember you. Man, I got my first certification from your training more than ten years ago. Brian, Brian Smith.” He waved at Cameron not wanting to extend his sweat-soaked hand.

  “Oh, what a small world,” Cameron said, “I’m with the government now, and I was hoping you would lend me a suit and an air pack and let me take a quick look around.”

  “Would you be willing to sign a release form?” Smith asked.

  “Certainly,” Cameron replied.

  “Alright then, Mark give this man a suit. I’ll grab a GX meter to take some airborne readings while we’re in there.”

  Cameron donned the suit and air pack. Just like riding a bike, he thought, his muscle memory proving true to form from hundreds of experiences in his previous life. Smith changed out his air bottle and was ready to escort Cameron into the hot zone.

  Before putting the mask on for the final tape up he said, “There’s some nasty shit in there, are you sure you don’t want to wait another day or two?” Cameron had already taped up and gave the whirl sign with his index finger to signal ‘let’s go.’

  Smith led the way through the debris; around the main lobby that was now a roofless concrete filled pit. Cameron could see the east wing entrance completely collapsed, providing easy access into the hot zone.

  “Watch your head!” Smith shouted through his mask. Cameron ducked under rebar protruding from a concrete slab. He could see the response crew working to neutralize chemical hazards. What a job, Cole thought seeing hundreds of vials and containers burned and liquid oozing from some overheated canisters.

  Cameron’s protective boots sloshed through the water-soaked debris on the floor as he looked for the nerve gas vault that he had located on the blueprints in the command post. The crew was not working that far back yet, and the lighting was poor.

  “Hold on, let me get a flashlight,” Smith said and quickly returned.

  Cameron took the flashlight looking over the vault. It seemed intact.

  “Has anyone gone in here?” Cameron shouted through the mask to Smith.

  “No. When we did our first assessment, I asked for the code, but the Roslin guys said they would handle the vault. They didn’t think anything had been damaged. It looks in good condition to me,” Smith said, checking seals on the door.

  “I need to get in here,” Cameron yelled, trying to be heard over the loud generators and equipment behind them.

  “Can you have your guy at the trailer give the two-way to FBI Agent Jacobs. I’ll see if she can get the code for us.”

  “Hold on,” Smith said as he radioed to the trailer.

  Cameron checked his air gauge. Smith yelled over, “thirty minutes goes fast when you’re having fun!”

  A couple of minutes later the two-way had Hannah’s voice. “Cole, you there?” she said.

  “Hannah, I need the code to the vault with the nerve gas. See if you can get it from Baxter,” he muffled through the mask.

  Cameron leaned against the vault wall; he could feel his perspiration from wearing the suit and carrying the extra weight.

  “We’ll need almost five minutes of air to get past all the rubble and out of the hot zone,” Smith reminded Cameron, as they waited on Hannah.

  “Have your guy get extra bottles ready just in case,” he said, just as Hannah came back over the radio.

  “Baxter doesn’t have the code. Do you copy?” Hannah relayed.

  “I copy. Tell Amy what we’re looking for. She may have it with something she uploaded. I’ll be out in a few minutes to change out my air bottle. Have her meet us at the decontamination area.”

  “Got it,” Hannah said handing the radio back to Mark.

  “Brian, you there?” they heard Mark’s call on the radio and Cameron handed it over to Smith.

  “I’m here. We’re coming back out, let’s get a couple more bottles ready.”

  The two made their way out of the hot zone.

  “I wish I had a hose line for you; it would save having to carry the pack and go back and forth. But the hoses are all tied up with the working crew,” Smith said.

  “No problem,” Cameron gestured now feeling his socks wet from the sweat.

  “Man, how is the day crew handling this in the heat of the day?”

  “Twenty minutes on and forty minutes off and a shit load of Gatorade,” Smith replied.

  The two stayed in the decontamination area, just clear of the demolished building entrance, as they waited for Amy. Eventually, they saw her approaching accompanied by Mark, the crew worker from the trailer.

  “Did you get it?” Cameron asked when she was still shouting distance away. Her face said it all. She had a big mischievous grin like a kid who had just gotten away with sneaking peeks of her Christmas presents.

  She handed him the note with the code on it.

  “You think it will work?” She asked.

  “I sure hope so,” Cameron said taking the note. “Thanks. Great work,” he grunted, feeling the weight of the air pack sliding into its brace strapped on his back. The extra weight of the fresh air tank came courtesy of Mark. Amy smiled, appreciating Cameron’s recognition and almost skipped her way back to the command post.

  Mark watched her leave and mentioned how cute he thought she was.

  “Yeah, I wish I had crew workers that cute,” Smith said as he raised an eyebrow at the crewmember. Mark responded with a roll of the eyes and said, “That hurts man. I’m out of here,” returning to the trailer.

  “Let’s go see if we can open this thing,” Cameron said as the two re-entered the hot zone.

  They climbed through the obstacle course of rubble again and around drums the crew was using. Cameron braced himself while stepping over a chunk of concrete as his eyes caught a bloody shoe with the mangled remains of a foot inside. He tapped Smith on the shoulder speaking through his fresh air mask, “Is that what I think it is?”

  “I’m afraid so. The FBI team doesn’t want us touching it. They’re coming in once we downgrade from fresh air to cartridge respirators. Some spots are worse.”

  Smith looked at the meter he was using for readings.

  “Do you think the keypad will work? There’s no power over here.”

  “I’m guessing the vault was designed to run on a backup independent power source. The keypad should be tied into it,” Cameron said.

  He was breathing heavy by the time they got back to the vault. He entered the code. The sound of a vacuum release was heard as the door slowly opened. Cameron gave a 'thumbs up' to Smith, indicating his victory.

  Smith then stuck the wand of the GX meter through the doorway to take an initial reading and motioned Cameron in.

  “Wait here, I just need to take a quick inventory,” Cameron yelled through the mask as he took the GX meter with him.

  Inside the vault, he did a quick survey of all the contents, wanting to ensure that none of the canisters appeared damaged from the blast. He waved the wand over the containers, shelf after shelf. He then focused on the inventory of VX.

  Everything seemed in place but one shelf labeled ‘Y44’, which had over a dozen empty half-liter canister holders. The empty holders didn’t alarm Cameron, but he thought the label was suspiciously vague, giving no chemical reference. Cameron sat the GX meter down and took digital photos of the entire room, racing against the air running out of his tank.

  Smith pounded at the door and held up his air gauge, signaling their need to leave before the air expired. The alarm bell that was meant to indicate five minutes of air remaining began sounding off. One last snapshot and he left the room, entering the code again to seal the vault shut.

  “Come on let’s get out of here!” yelled Smith. “You’ll get my ass fired if something happens to you.”

  “We don’t want that to happen,” Cameron acknowledged as he followed Smith out with both alarm bells ringing. They hastened their exit going through the decontamination station and removing their gear.

  Mark scolded them.

  “You guys wer
e cutting it a little close.”

  “You two sound like an old married couple,” Cameron joked as he placed the camera in a plastic bag and removed his suit revealing his soaked shirt and pants. As he stepped back into his street shoes, he noticed the women waiting on him outside the command post. The coolness of the desert night suddenly hit Cameron’s wet clothing, giving him a chill.

  Back at the post, Cameron cut a small opening in the plastic bag and plugged in the wire to transfer the images to Amy’s laptop.

  “Alright we’re done,” Cameron said, to an exhausted group. He, however, was energized by the physical activity.

  The FBI agent reached for the camera.

  “I’m afraid it’s contaminated now. Sorry,” Cameron said taking the bag with him and discarding it into a drum at the decontamination station.

  “Cole!” Hannah protested as they got in the rental car. “You could have told me it was going to get wasted.”

  On the drive back, Cameron was trying to shake the chill he felt. Amy noticed it from the back seat.

  “Cole you’re soaked. Are you going to be alright?” she asked.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. I just need to warm up maybe get something to eat.”

  “Get something to eat?” Hannah objected. “It’s almost three in the morning,” she said, turning to give him her look of disgust at the thought. “But I do have to say this nightlife suits you well. I mean look at you. You’re like a kid at Disney World.”

  “I agree,” Amy said, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this persistent grin before.”

  “No, it’s more like a goofy smirk,” Hannah corrected as the two took turns poking fun at him.

  Cameron just laughed it off, enjoying the attention of his two female associates. Some of his new-found energy had rubbed off on them as they caught their second wind.

  “Look there’s Denny’s. They’re open twenty-four hours,” Cameron said as they drew near the city.

  “We are not going into a restaurant with you soaking wet!” Hannah asserted.

  “Yeah, the hotel has a list of places that’ll deliver, we can get something to share, and you can give us the rundown,” Amy advised.