Target Eight, page 4
She stopped and stared. Bledshaw was talking to Jacob.
CHAPTER FIVE
“What are you doing here?” Jana asked, stunned to see her lover at the same location the Antiquities Division had sent her to.
“What are you doing here?” Jacob asked at the same moment.
Mr. Bledshaw chuckled. “I hope you’ll indulge me in this little ruse. I wanted you both to join up on this mission motivated by your respective passions.”
“What’s going on?” Jacob demanded.
“The CIA reached out to us because of our specialty to oversee the Harper Dam investigation.”
“But you’re the Antiquities Division,” Jana said. “What’s that got to do with a terrorist strike on a dam?”
Bledshaw sighed. “Sadly, quite a bit. If you’ll board the plane we can discuss it in the air.”
Jana looked to Jacob, who shrugged.
“I got word from the boss to go, so I’m going,” Jacob said.
He didn't sound happy about it, and she didn't feel happy about this roundabout way of getting them on the plane either. She didn't think these guys were threats, however, and her curiosity was definitely piqued.
With a last look at Jacob for agreement, she stepped aboard the jet. Jacob followed, as did Bledshaw and the bodyguard. They all sat facing each other over a small table.
They were the only ones in the plane besides the pilot. The jet took off, and once they were in the air, Bledshaw spoke.
“I apologize once again for the way I got you on board, but we at the Antiquities Division only want the best, and only want those who are the most willing.”
“You sound like you’re recruiting us,” Jacob said. “I already have a job.”
“Indeed. I doubt the CIA would ever give you up. I’m glad they at least allowed you to join us on this mission. Dr. Peters, on the other hand, is at liberty, and perhaps can be persuaded to join us in common cause to save the world’s hidden antiquities.”
“Speaking of antiquities,” Jana said. “What’s the connection between your organization and the Harper Dam?”
Bledshaw opened up a little door in the wall to reveal a liquor cabinet. “Would anyone like a drink? I have some lovely single malt Scotch aged thirty years. Wine too, if you prefer.”
“I don’t drink on duty,” Jacob said.
“It’s a four-hour flight, but very well. Jana?”
“A short Scotch for me, thank you.” Although she didn’t want a drink, Jana decided to act friendly.
Bledshaw poured them both drinks. He didn't offer one to the bodyguard, and the bodyguard didn't ask.
Jana also noted that while the bodyguard had probably spotted her and Jacob’s weapons, he hadn’t said a word. That reassured her somewhat.
Once they were settled in with their drinks, Bledshaw began.
“As you are aware, a great deal of antiquities went missing during the Second World War.”
One of them being the Libyan Staff of Ra, stolen by Rommel. I wonder how much he knows about that?
“Yes, a lot went missing,” Jana said and sipped her whiskey. He had as good taste in liquor as he did in tailoring.
“A lot of not only cultural value, but potentially political and military value,” he said, looking her in the eye. “After that, the United States government decided to form the Antiquities Division. It was initially made up of the so-called Monuments Men, the famous researchers who recovered artwork stolen by the Nazis and tried to trace the original owners, or at least their surviving families. They had just the right combination of artistic and archaeological knowledge, detective work, and political loyalty.”
“I see,” Jana said, wondering if political loyalty was the most important thing for Bledshaw on that list.
“For quite some time before the war, there had been those in government circles who realized the importance of some antiquities beyond being simply historic. That only grew after the fall of the Third Reich and the discovery that the Nazis were way ahead of everyone else in this line of research. So the Antiquities Division was set up to collect and study artifacts that had some sort of scientific or defense value.”
“You need an entire division to deal with that?” Jacob asked. “Just how many artifacts are we talking about here?”
Bledshaw smiled. "Don't worry, Agent Snow, we're not talking about arsenals of ancient Egyptian atomic weapons or high-tech Roman and Greek devices we're still trying to decipher. There are some of those, certainly—”
“What? Really?”
“Yes, and we aim to keep those safe. There are also a whole host of related artifacts that must be studied in order to understand the most important artifacts. As your archaeologist friend can tell you, context is everything, and it takes a museum’s worth of artifacts to thoroughly study any aspect of ancient society.”
Jana shifted in her seat. “So what does this have to do with Harper Dam?”
“Sadly, Harper Dam was one of our warehouses.”
Jana and Jacob traded a look.
"What do you mean?" Jana asked. "You had some secret room inside the dam where you kept top-secret artifacts?"
She asked this half-jokingly, but the response came deadly serious.
“That’s correct. U.S. government interest in secret archaeology coincided with the postwar building boom. A huge number of government projects were launched to add infrastructure to feed America’s economic expansion. One of those projects was a series of hydroelectric dams to supply a growing need for electricity. Harper Dam in Nevada was built in the late 1950s by the federal government. Deep inside the structure was a storehouse for artifacts. Only the chief executive of the project knew of it. It does not appear on any public blueprints or records, so even the engineers working there today had no inkling that a secret room existed.”
“Wait, if you want to study artifacts, why squirrel them away in the depths of a hydroelectric dam?” Jana asked.
“To keep them safe. While some artifacts are the subject of ongoing study, others have been thoroughly documented but not fully deciphered. They are locked away in the more secure and inaccessible locations to await further study when new insights allow us to learn more.”
Jana nodded. This was the logic behind museum collections. A huge amount of archaeological material was stored in museums that rarely got looked at except when someone did a general study of a type of object or a particular period. These things got saved because those general studies could be useful, and future techniques could tease more information out of objects that had already been studied.
“So why put them in a secret room in a dam rather than a warehouse where they’re more accessible for study?”
“Specifically because it is not accessible. We have a variety of hiding places, not just dams but other major public projects as well as a few specially made bunkers. Security is paramount, and sadly, most government buildings are less than secure. Remember that intruder who got into the Pentagon?"
The year before, there had been a major scandal when a man used a fake ID to get into the Pentagon as part of a YouTube stunt. That landed the idiot in federal prison. No more YouTube for him.
It also landed the Pentagon security team in some serious hot water.
“So if I join up, I'm going to have to sneak into a bunch of secret warehouses without telling anyone?"
Jacob gave her a double take. He looked surprised that she was considering Bledshaw’s offer. Well, why shouldn’t she?
Although she needed to know more before she could make a decision. A lot more.
“It wouldn’t be as cloak and dagger as all that. We have an excellent computer database of all our objects. You wouldn’t need to study most objects in person although of course that can be arranged.”
“And you have a large Roman collection?”
“We have sizeable collections from all eras and regions.”
“Do other governments have similar projects?”
“Not that we’re aware.”
“So what was in the Harper Dam that a terrorist would want to destroy?” Jacob asked. Jana felt a bit embarrassed to be getting more into the research than the problem at hand.
“A very valuable collection. It’s a terrible loss to world culture.”
While Bledshaw looked legitimately moved, Jana couldn’t help but feel a bit cynical. How could the collection be a loss to world culture if no one except an elite few knew about it? This Antiquities Division seemed a bit like ultrarich private collectors, people who hoarded away Etruscan bronzes and sketches by Da Vinci. They generally did have an appreciation for the cultural treasures they owned, and yet kept anyone else from enjoying it.
“Could you be a bit more specific?” Jacob asked.
“No fissile material. Nothing that would imperil the rescue and cleanup operations.”
“Well, that’s good. What else can you tell us?”
Bledshaw raised a hand. “All in good time, my friends. I understand that I’m being a bit opaque, but neither of you actually work for the Antiquities Division. There is only so much I am authorized to reveal.”
Jana detected a slip. Bledshaw said he was the director of the Antiquities Division, and here he was claiming he needed authorization to tell them more.
From who? The Pentagon? The president?
They fell silent for a time. Then Jacob spoke up.
“So what do you want us to look for?”
"I'm not sure," Bradshaw said. "We're not an espionage organization. Someone of your talents and experience will prove indispensable. We've never been a target of a terror attack before."
“Maybe they targeted the dam and didn’t know about your secret storage chamber,” Jana said.
Bradshaw gave her a sad smile. “I don’t believe in coincidence, and I doubt your companion does either.”
The rest of the long flight was of similarly vague and general conversation that told them nothing other than the fact that Bledshaw wanted their help while keeping them in the dark. At one point, he got a call on a satellite phone, excused himself, and went to the back of the plane to take it.
They fell silent and tried to eavesdrop. Bledshaw spoke in low tones, but they could just make out the words.
And had no idea what they were.
“What language is that?” Jana whispered.
“No clue,” Jacob whispered back. “and I’ve heard most of the world’s languages.”
From most people that would have been a boast. Coming from Jacob, it was a simple statement of fact.
When Bledshaw hung up and came back to his seat, they fell into an uncomfortable silence that lasted the rest of the flight.
CHAPTER SIX
Jacob had seen a lot of destruction in his life. He’d seen car bombs, missile strikes, and the grinding decay of cities torn apart by civil war, but even he was shocked by the devastation of the Harper Dam bursting.
Where once there had been a thick span of concrete fitted with immense turbines reaching from one canyon wall to the other, now there was a gaping hole through which water poured. Only a small stub of concrete remained to either side. Of the great turbines, pipes, and generators, there was no trace.
Bledshaw’s private jet flew low over the wreckage, just above a couple of news helicopters. Jacob saw emergency vehicles parked on the road to either side, a road that had once run right over the top of the dam. He wondered why they were there. Anyone working in the dam would have been killed instantly.
“That must have been a hell of a blast,” he said, his voice coming out in a horrified whisper. “They would have had to get deep inside and drill holes to set dynamite or plastic explosives. I'm not a demolitions expert, but that would have been a long job and required a whole bunch of explosives. How did they do it without the dam staff noticing?”
"That's one of the questions I hope you'll be able to answer," Bradshaw said, his face grim as he surveyed the scene.
“Have the police arrested any suspects?”
“They’ve detained a number of people but from what I’ve heard none are credible suspects. The police are grasping at straws to deflect criticism.”
Jacob couldn’t blame them. This was the worst terrorist attack on American soil in the nation’s history.
The jet banked and followed the course of the river downstream. Jacob’s heart sank. He knew what he’d see next.
He felt Jana clutch his hand. Jacob gave it a squeeze but couldn’t tear his eyes off the sight below.
A mile downstream, the canyon took a turn, and the cliffs had been battered and eroded by the wall of water that had smashed into it. The clifftop was heaped with debris, mostly chunks of concrete and a mass of twisted steel that could have been part of a turbine although Jacob wasn't sure.
The jet continued, flying as slowly as it could to give the passengers a detailed view of the horror. They spotted several military vehicles along the road, National Guard or maybe troops from a nearby base. Jacob didn’t know if there was a base nearby. The government would have called in everybody.
And then they came to the town.
It had stood on a bluff overlooking the river. When the river was dammed, it would have been high and dry. Now the flood had swept it away. All Jacob could see was a tangle of mud, debris, and chunks of concrete the size of houses that had washed all the way down to rest here, after smashing the life out of the town.
After the initial flood, the waters had receded to the original river level from before it had been dammed. Pay Dirt, population formerly 10,000, once again stood above water, but there was no town left. Jacob couldn’t even tell where the streets were and where the buildings had once stood. It was now all a uniform mess of death and debris. Only crumbled portions of a couple of concrete high rises remained to show there had been a town there at all.
Jacob could make out emergency workers picking through the mass of mud and debris in a hopeless quest for survivors. They wouldn’t find any. No, Jacob was quite sure they wouldn’t find any.
He glanced at Bledshaw. The man was pale, his face drawn. Good. He wasn’t heartless. Jacob had met a lot of heartless government men in his day. While Bledshaw was still an unknown quantity, he had enough humanity in him to feel the shock of what they were witnessing.
“So now what?” Jacob asked.
“We will land at a private airport in about fifteen minutes. It’s generally for small aircraft like Cessnas. Our jet can barely use the runway, but at least the airport won't be clogged by the relief planes being sent by the government. Those are going to the National Guard base. I’ve arranged a helicopter to meet us at the airport and take us to the site.”
“Who’s running the relief operation, and do they know you’re coming?”
“Right now it’s the Nevada National Guard, although every federal agency will be rushing their people in. There will be organizational chaos. There always is in the case of a big emergency, and this is unprecedented. Yes, they know we’re coming and we have full authorization to go wherever we need to. We’re working under the banner of the CIA for this one.”
For this one. It sounded like the Antiquities Division always worked under someone else’s name. That would explain why he had never heard of it.
Jana spoke up. “Let’s go to where the canyon makes that turn. A lot of debris got washed up on the clifftop. Perhaps we can find a clue.”
“Searching for the proverbial needle in a haystack,” Bledshaw said.
“Yeah, but it’s the only thing we got,” Jacob said.
“Very well,” the director of the Antiquities Division said.
They landed a few minutes later in a small airport of private planes. As Bledshaw had promised, a helicopter waited for them. To Jacob’s surprise, Bledshaw joined went with them. Despite his Ivy League demeanor, it looked like he was taking a hands-on approach with the investigation.
I wonder what this guy’s skill set is.
They took off and were soon back at the turn of the canyon that had taken such a battering when the dam broke.
Through their earphones they heard the pilot say, “We’re going to have to land a bit away from the cliff, Mr. Bledshaw. It’s seriously cracked and eroded.”
“Very well, Mark.”
The pilot landed half a kilometer away. Jacob, Jana, and the director got out, hunching low and covering their eyes as the blades kicked up a swirl of desert dust. Jacob kept an eye on the ground. He didn’t see any cracks here.
But what he did see once they walked away from the helicopter were chunks of concrete and river rocks that had been thrown above the cliff and a full kilometer inland to end up here. What little vegetation there was—a few stubby trees and sparse bushes—had been flattened.
As they proceeded toward the cliff edge, they found more debris and were soon having to clamber over larger stones and fragments of the dam.
Ahead, they saw a hunk of twisted steel with patches of blue paint. It took Jacob a minute to realize it was part of a car.
“Jesus,” Jacob whispered. “They had probably been driving along the road on top of the dam when it blew.”
“Or the road that once ran along here,” Bledshaw said. “You didn’t see it from the air because it all got eroded away on this stretch. It appears on the map.”
A map that’s going to have to be redrawn.
They didn’t approach the remains of the car. They didn’t want to see what was inside. Nothing living, that was for sure.
“Let’s spread out a bit,” Jana suggested. "We can cover more ground that way. It's like a surface survey in archaeology. Just scan the ground to your left and right and ahead of you, looking for anything unusual."
"I'm not sure anything of interest will have survived," Bradshaw said.
“Neither am I,” Jana admitted. “But it’s a start.”
They kept going, the ground getting rougher and rougher with more and larger pieces of debris. Jacob thanked his luck that they didn’t come across another vehicle. He’d never grown accustomed to seeing civilian casualties.
Then he saw the first of the cracks. It was about as wide as his hand and ran ahead of them a couple of hundred yards to the cliff edge, widening as it went.
