“I’m not,” Evans said. “You’re just in the unfortunate position of being caught in the middle. The people who will blame you will be the media when they realize who put the containers in their neighborhoods. How long do you think your business could last after that happened?”
As much as Palmer hated to admit it, the man was right. It wouldn’t matter that he’d just been doing the job he was hired to do. Once he was associated with any problems-or, God forbid, deaths-he’d be ruined.
“What…what do I do with them once I have them?”
“You need to dump them in the sea so that they are completely submerged.”
“I’m sorry. Dump them in the sea?”
“It’s a drastic measure, but the only one that will ensure no one is harmed. We have dispatched a crisis team to your location, but they won’t arrive until tomorrow. They’ll deal with things at that point. But
“Tonight? Do you realize what time it is? It’s getting on nine p.m.”
“This is a health emergency, Mr. Palmer. The time of day is not important.”
Palmer thought for a moment. He could probably round up enough drivers to get the containers in the Perth area, but elsewhere? “Some of the containers are quite far away. I don’t see how I could possibly get them all tonight.”
“It doesn’t matter where they are. It
Palmer stared blankly at the wall across from his desk. “I’ll…try.”
“Good. Let me give the number you can call if you have any further questions.”
There were nearly two dozen people in the Bunker making calls around the world, doing whatever they could to put a dent in the Project’s plans.
As soon as Jordan hung up, Matt asked, “Did he buy it?”
“I think so.”
“Will he be able to do it, though?”
“He wasn’t sure, but he was going to try.”
“Okay,” Matt said, wishing the answer had been more definitive. “Don’t let me stop you.”
Jordan nodded, looked down at his list, and dialed the next number.
Palmer looked out his window at the night sky.
How the hell had that happened?
He turned back around and reached for his phone, intending to call his assistant Cora at home and have her get as many drivers as quickly as possible, but he paused, his fingers touching the handset.
Why hadn’t Mr. Vanduffel called him about this? Did the people at Hidde-Kel Holdings not even know? That seemed unlikely.
He hesitated a few seconds longer then called Cora anyway, so that the drivers would be ready to go. As soon as he finished with her, he dialed a much longer number.
“Hidde-Kel Holdings,” a male voice said.
“Mr. Vanduffel, please.”
“May I tell him who’s calling?”
“John Palmer. Palmer Transport amp; Shipping in Perth.”
“One moment, Mr. Palmer.”
It was over a minute before the line clicked.
“Mr. Palmer? I didn’t expect to hear from you. Is there a problem?”
“A big problem. Why didn’t you tell me your containers are contaminated?”
Silence. “Did something happen?”
“I got a phone call is what happened, from someone at the World Health Organization. He tells me your containers are contaminated and I need to dump them in the sea before tomorrow.”
More silence. “Who exactly called you?”
“A man named Jordan Evans.”
“Did he give you a number?”
“Have you not heard from them?”
“No. We haven’t.”
“So you know nothing about this?”
“Not a thing.”
Palmer frowned. “I thought they’d have called you first.”
“Of course they would have. Which leads me to believe this Mr. Evans isn’t who he claims to be.”
“So you think he was lying about them behind contaminated?”
“Mr. Palmer, I can assure you, the only things in those containers are what
After hanging up, Palmer didn’t know what to think. If Mr. Evans had truly been from the WHO, surely he would have called Hidde-Kel by now, but could Palmer take the chance of ignoring the warning?
There was one thing he could do that might answer the question. Check out one of the containers himself. If he took appropriate precautions, he should be able to protect himself from anything inside. The closest one was only ten minutes away, right in Perth.
Making up his mind, he called Cora again. “I’ll be back in thirty minutes. Just tell everyone to hold tight until I return.”
“Can I at least tell them what you want them to do?”
“I’ll explain everything when I get back.”
He never got that chance. The explosion that killed him when he opened the container meant that no one at Palmer Transport amp; Shipping knew anything about Mr. Evans’s warning.
34
I.D. MINUS 6 HOURS 49 MINUTES
BLUEBIRD TIME 4:11 AM
“Rowan, report,” security officer Phillips said into the radio.
Nothing.
“Rowan, this is base. Are you receiving me?”
No response.
Rowan was a minute overdue checking in. Ten minutes ago, in his last report, he had made no indication of problems, radio or otherwise, but with the severe conditions on Yanok Island, that could change in seconds.
“Rowan, this is base. Report.”
Still receiving no response, Phillips contacted the watch officer. This being the day it was, the DOP’s personal aide, Major Ross, was serving in the role.
Ross’s voice came over the receiver. “This is the watch officer.”
“I have a non-response from perimeter security.”
“Who’s out there?”
“Benjamin Rowan, sir.”
“How long is he overdue?”
Phillips glanced at the clock on his screen. “Two minutes.”
The patrol officers were drilled on keeping religiously to their check-in schedules, so even a delay of half a minute was unusual.
“Had he reported any previous problems?”
“No, sir.”
