Day of Wrath

“I also want security tightened here.” Ibrahim closed Reichardt’s laptop with one hand — shutting off the meaningless, blinking C: \ prompt that seemed to mock him.

He looked up and began snapping out his orders. “Deploy a patrol around this building-beginning at sunset. And I want our guard force strengthened. Most of Reichardt’s people have East German military or secret police training. Issue them with sidearms for use in an emergency.”

“Should I electrify the fence, Highness?” Talal asked.

“Not yet.” Ibrahim smiled mirthlessly. “I might find that difficult to explain to our American employees in the rest of the complex. The fence can wait for another day.”

To clear the compound of all nonessential personnel on the Operation’s crucial final day, the Saudi prince had arranged a series of motivational seminars at one of Washington’s finer hotels. All the region’s legitimate Caraco employees were expected to attend. Call it a special kind of severance package, he thought coldly.

When Talal had gone, he turned his gaze back on Reichardt’s computer.

Who could say how much potentially damaging information was still hidden deep in its recesses? Certainly the German had known far too much about Ibrahim himself, the terrorist organizations he funded, and his methods. Ibrahim made a note to take the machine with him when they evacuated this facility. He would keep it safely in his grasp until Saleh or some other expert pried all its secrets loose.

He turned away and stalked through a gray, unmarked fire door into the room just beyond the planning cell.

The lights in the Operation’s control center were kept dim — to avoid any interfering glare on the multiple television and computer monitors that were placed strategically around the room. Two rows of four aircraft control consoles occupied most of the space, but communications equipment took up one entire wall, and metal workbenches filled nearly all of another. The benches were littered with tools, electronic components, and circuit diagrams.

Ibrahim noticed that the screens on one of the control consoles were dark. He frowned and moved up behind the two technicians who were crouched peering into an open panel in the back. They were speaking softly to each other in German — probably debating some technical point.

“What is going on here?” he asked sharply. “Why wasn’t I notified of this equipment malfunction?”

Startled, both men spun around and then hurriedly straightened up.

“I’m sorry, sir, but this just happened. A video board failed,” the senior technician answered quickly. “We’ve identified the problem and we expect to have the unit back up in a few minutes at most.”

“This equipment is all new, sir,” the younger man added. Even the control center’s dim lights gleamed off the German’s smooth-shaven head. A small gold loop piercing his left eyebrow waggled when he spoke. “The components are still burning in. These ‘infant mortality’ cases are quite common at this stage. But we’ll sort them out.”

Ibrahim kept his temper under control. With Reichardt dead, he had to take up the reins — and that included tolerating grubby, dirty-fingered mechanics like these.

“The technical details do not interest me, gentlemen,” he ground out angrily. “The fact that a piece of equipment failed does. I expect to be informed instantly of such an event in the future. Is that clear?”

Both technicians nodded rapidly.

“Very well, then. Finish your repairs.”

Ibrahim turned away, focusing his attention on one of the working aircraft control consoles. It was built around two monitors — one a television, the other a color computer display.

The television screen was blank. So was the computer monitor. In use, the TV would show the pictures taken by one of the cameras his crews had mounted on each attack plane.

The computer screen would display the position, altitude, speed, fuel status, and other relevant flight data of up to four separate aircraft.

Ibrahim ran his eyes over the rest of the console. A customdesigned electronics panel augmented a standard computer keyboard.

The panel held UHF radio controls, jacks where headsets could be plugged in, basic flight instruments, and a series of selector switches. A joystick, black cable coiled around it, perched on top of the console.

He nodded, satisfied by what he saw. These consoles were for use only in an unforeseen emergency. Barring that, his aircraft would fly to their targets entirely on their own — using the preset flight plans loaded into each autopilot. Once they were airborne, nothing could stop him from plunging the United States into a cleansing nuclear fire.

JUNE 20

_{Super 6 Motor Lodge, Near Falls Church, Virginia (H MINUS 22)}

Helen Gray finished laying out the first wave of their newly purchased equipment and stood back to look it over. The gear completely covered one of the room’s two queen-size beds. Acquiring it had taken several trips and a sizable chunk of their cash reserves.