Big enough to rupture the chlorine tanks, but not so powerful for extreme heat to oxidize the chlorine, rendering most of the gas non-toxic or to burn up much of it. The shape of Snow’s charge was designed to puncture the tanks. Derailment was a given.
He could imagine the chaos in his mind’s eye: everything within a thousand feet of the derailment site would be enveloped in a choking cloud of chlorine. The cloud could expand, if lucky, to a mile and a half in width, and with the boost from the wind, carry close to eighteen miles.
Twenty thousand people would be within the cloud’s path.
The Beast would of course order evacuations, fight like the wounded giant that it was, but the death toll could easily be in the hundreds or even the thousands. He smiled.
He hoped, as a first shot, this would prove a great success.
He drove fast on the empty road, heading toward Houston. He had a gas mask but he didn’t feel he needed it; Ripley was far enough behind and he was driving into the prevailing wind.
He drove south back to Houston, to Snow’s house without calling, because he thought the Beast, with its thousands of eyes, would be tracking every cellular call made near Ripley as part of the town’s postmortem. He listened to the radio, the music interrupted by a news bulletin, the increasingly frantic coverage, and the order for immediate evacuation.
When he got back to Snow’s house, the yards were empty. He saw cars filled with families, heading out, even though the cloud was far away and the wind wasn’t moving the poison in this direction. People panicked so easily.
He got out of the car, breathed in the cool air, and walked inside the house.
Snow sat on her couch, watching CNN, eating pretzels and sipping a congratulatory beer.
He watched the coverage, the panic, the horror, thinking, I did that. Good for me.
She looked up at him. ‘I guess my baby delivered.’
Mouser had a sudden hunger to touch her throat, feel the taste of her skin. But he barely knew her, so it would be wrong. The mission first, the mission always. He went and got a glass of water.
‘Only one car punctured by the blast,’ she said, watching the TV coverage. A satellite image of the derailment was on the screen. ‘The cloud is going to be big. They’re evacuating everyone within twenty miles.’
He could see the dead by the rails, on the streets of Ripley. He counted a dozen bodies as the camera’s eye moved along the main drag. He saw a wrecked minivan, halfway in a storefront close to the rail yard, a flipped pickup truck. The chattering experts said the chlorine cloud was not likely to move south toward Houston and heavy rain pushing in from the Gulf would help ground the chlorine. But the situation was already being labeled a chemical attack. Not simply an accident, and the words al-Qaeda and terrorists were already on the commentators’ tongues.
‘Al-Qaeda. They always think of them first,’ Snow said.
My God, Mouser thought. That was simple. And cheap. What blows to the Beast could he inflict with real money, money to last him for years, now that he had proven his worth. He nearly laughed in joy.
The doorbell rang. Snow glanced up at Mouser. ‘You expecting anyone?’
‘Maybe my ex. We broke up, he might come here begging.’
Mouser pulled the gun, went to the window. ‘Answer the door. Move out of the way if you don’t know ’em.’
‘If it’s police…’
‘I’m not being taken. You?’
She shook her head without hesitation.
Mouser positioned himself. Snow answered the door.
‘I thought you were in Washington,’ Snow said.
On the porch, Henry Shawcross said, ‘We have a serious problem.’
8
‘Please tell us you’re here to celebrate,’ Mouser said. He knew it wasn’t the case but he wasn’t ready to let go of the euphoria he felt.
‘No. My stepson has been kidnapped.’ Henry stood against the living room wall, arms crossed. Exhaustion marked his face.
Mouser sat on the edge of Snow’s couch. ‘And I care why? That’s not our problem.’
‘Wrong. Luke’s kidnapping affects everything – the first wave and the Hellfire attack.’ Henry told him about Luke, the demands of the kidnapper. ‘They want the fifty million for his safe return.’
‘Then no safe return. They can’t have it,’ Mouser said. An absolute statement, no room for discussion.
‘I am not going to let them kill my kid.’
‘I’m not going to let them have our money,’ Mouser said. ‘And he’s Warren Dantry’s kid, right?’
A long pause, a curled lip that told Mouser Henry was uncomfortable with Mouser’s knowledge of his family. Mouser studied the professor in front of him. Henry always looked like he was running late for a lecture and he looked the same now, except in his gaze an intense anger steamed.
‘Yes. He was Warren’s son.’ Henry folded his arms. ‘I think of him as my son now.’
‘Answer me one question. Do you have our money, Henry?’
Henry stared at him, as though anticipating the sight of a gun or a knife. ‘No. I tried to access the accounts; the passwords have been changed.’
All of Mouser’s pride, all his excitement over the mission well done, the blow against the Beast, turned to ash.
‘You can’t access the money?’ Snow asked, as though she didn’t understand.
‘Not for you. Not for anyone in the Night Road.’ Henry crossed his arms. ‘I rushed back here as soon as I could, so we can figure out what to do…’
‘No. No.’ Mouser lurched forward, to seize Henry. Henry raised a gun from under his own jacket. Mouser stopped.
‘Stop. We can’t fight amongst ourselves. What’s done is done. Listen to me. We’re going to fix this. We have to move forward with the first wave. And Hellfire stays on schedule.’
Mouser stopped himself. He wanted to strangle the life out of Henry Shawcross at that moment. Another betrayal, that’s all this was, just like every other moment in his life where he approached greatness, only to see his glory snatched away. He forced calmness into his breath. He felt the pressure of a hand on his shoulder; he glanced behind him.
Snow said, ‘Was there any mention from the kidnapper about the first wave of attacks?’
‘No.’
‘Or of Hellfire?’ Her eyes were bright.
‘No. So the kidnapper is interested in the fifty million – not in stopping the attacks themselves,’ Henry said.
‘All right. They asked for a ransom of our money. What did you say?’ Mouser sat back down on the couch.
Henry returned his gun to his jacket. ‘I wasn’t willing to acknowledge that I had the money in case the conversation was being taped.’
‘So you refused to ransom your own kid. Your loyalty is an inspiration.’
‘I may have saved us all by doing so. Because I know who kidnapped Luke.’
‘Who?’
‘The banker who was in charge of setting up the financial accounts around the country for the fifty million is missing. Eric Lindoe. He hasn’t been at his job in the past three days.’
‘Who could have shut you out of the accounts?’
‘Only Eric. Only he and I had access. Mine is under a false name of course.’
‘You’re not making sense, Henry. If Eric Lindoe took the money, he has no reason to kidnap your stepson,’ Snow said in an even tone. She kept her grip on Mouser’s shoulder and he shrugged it off.
