The Last Second (A Brit in the FBI #6)(82)

“Yes,” Mills said, “and complete chaos. But here’s the bigger issue. Where it goes off. You realize the lunar eclipse is at its apex tonight over Nepal, right?”

Both Nicholas and Mike stared at him.

“I was holding back, now I’ll give you the good stuff. Say Patel has her blast go off above Nepal. Say, thirty kilometers up. A HEMP—high-altitude EMP—in that area of space would knock out the electrical grids in China, India, southwest Russia, all of the countries that end in ‘-stan,’ and most of the Middle East. Now, a few of these countries are probably hardened against such an attack. I am not one for looking on the dark side of things, but if Russia or China think the U.S. has set off an EMP designed to knock them back to the Middle Ages, they might not take it so well. Because not only would it take out the electronics in that fourteen-hundred-square-kilometer area on Earth, it would also annihilate any satellites in its path.

“Now, were I a feisty country, forever in the shadow of the U.S., and I’m hit by an EMP, I would be mighty pissed off. I might even decide to shoot off an EMP of my own in retaliation, this one above Montana, and the next thing you know, we’re all up the creek. This is bigger than a single explosion. This is the beginnings of World War Three—a nuclear nightmare scenario. The thing is, no one’s been testing the effects of HEMPs on Earth. This is just what we know because of the science. And it’s the best case scenario.”

Mike was shaking her head. “I get that Patel is pissed at NASA for kicking her out of the astronaut program, but why does she want to cause catastrophic damage? Why does she hate the world?”

Mills shook his head. “I hope we get to her in time to ask.”

They heard the deafening whoosh of the planes before she saw them—four French air force jets were flying low and close, skimming the trees.

Shortly, they pulled up in front of a guard house similar to those she’d seen at the entrance to every military installation she’d ever been on. The soldiers were dressed in camouflage fatigues, small black berets cocked on their heads. They carried automatic weapons with an ease born of long handling.

The SUV was directed to the tarmac, and parked next to a small hangar. The driver got out and disappeared. Mills opened the door and stepped out, rubbed his jaw. “I can’t wait to get rid of this thing. I don’t want anyone to mistake me for Khaleed Al-Asaad ever again. I sure hope there’s a razor and some water on the plane. Everyone ready for some fun? There’s our transport. This is the CIA, folks. Isn’t Mr. Grace amazing?”

Mike looked to the four jets parked on the tarmac, and her face split into a wide smile. “Oh, you’re kidding. We get to fly in those?”

The four jets were big, no, massive gray ghosts with tons of armament. She couldn’t believe it. Always, since her earliest childhood, Mike had wanted to ride in one of these babies, pull big G’s.

They were escorted inside the hangar. Their driver was standing next to a card table set up with a laptop and a T1 line. Nicholas was relieved. Relying on Wi-Fi was too dangerous, and being hardwired into the base’s communications system would make life much easier.

He secured a line to Adam, whose face popped up on the computer. He had dark circles under his eyes.

“I’m ready and waiting to trace Patel’s phone. I don’t know if this is going to work, Nicholas. If Patel doesn’t have the GPS turned on, it’s going to be hard to locate the signal.”

“We only have one chance at this. You found the facility in Sri Lanka for us. Do you believe she’s there?”

“Well, yes. It’s off-grid, it’s private, and it’s cost her a lot of money over the years. I’d put our chances at 50 percent. Maybe 75 percent.”

“We’re looking for a squawk, a link, anything that might show this phone on the grid for even the barest hint of a moment. If we can confirm she’s anywhere near there, I’m comfortable heading to Sri Lanka immediately.”

They could hear Adam talking on the other line, then he came back. “Here’s the number to track. Alys is going to make the call in five minutes. She’ll keep it simple. She doesn’t know there’s a problem outside of the headquarters being attacked. She won’t be able to warn Patel about anything.”

Nicholas glanced at his watch. They were running out of time. He said, “Here goes nothing,” and typed in Nevaeh’s sat phone number. He launched his tracking protocol and waited.





CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN


Nicholas listened to the one-sided call with one ear, typing frantically, searching, searching. The program he’d written could examine five square miles at a time for a satellite phone signature, regardless of the GPS signal. But five square miles at a time to cover a twenty-five-thousand-square-mile country was going to take a while.

He decided to narrow down the search to the main routes leading from Colombo to the coordinates Adam had for Aquarius. With a smaller grid, the program began to run faster.

A small pinprick of light came online, then faded just as quickly.

“There!”

The map overlay came back on-screen.

Mike said, “Adam, did you see it? Was that her sat phone?”

“I am seeing it, and I’m running it now. Yes, that was her phone. It registered when the call dropped. Damn, Nicholas, that’s a pretty cool program.”