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"Then we're going to have a problem. I can't simply insert you into the chain of command. Not after what the president just said."
"General," interrupted Rapp, "someone has to be calling the shots. You tell me do you think that person should be on-site or sitting in a blast-proof bunker up by Camp David?"
"Mitch, I know what you're saying, but it's the way it has to be. If you find that boat before HRT gets up there I'll patch you through to Six's CO, and I'll tell the president we should let you make the call, but as soon as HRT is on the scene, you and I are going to have to step aside."
Rapp had no intention of stepping aside, but there was no point in telling Flood that. "All right, general, I'll be in touch." Rapp ended the call and continued scanning the river.
They passed over a boat headed north and his heart began to race a bit. The vessel fit the general description of the one they were looking for. As they continued past it Rapp used a pair of binoculars to try and get a read on the boat's name. The writing was in blue and he could only make out the first word. The boat was theMaryland something. It was not the one they were looking for.
The helicopter climbed slightly as they passed over a series of four bridges and then dropped back down. Reagan National Airport was a half a mile ahead on the starboard side and they now had to contend with commercial air traffic. They were coming up on Hains Point where the Anacostia River split off to the East.
The Park Police helicopter entered the picture flying along the opposite bank about a mile ahead of the CIA helicopter. Rapp spotted several boats, one too small and the other too big. Twenty seconds later they passed the Washington Sailing Marina. The parking lot was full, and he counted at least four boats leaving the marina. This search would get more difficult with each passing minute. They passed several more sail boats and then Rapp winced as he saw the emergency lights sitting atop the Harbor Police boat below. Rapp hoped they'd been given the right orders. Anyone who saw these guys was to make no attempt to stop them. They were to call it in and go about their business as if nothing unusual had been noticed.
Up ahead was the Woodrow Wilson Memorial Bridge. It spanned the river carrying the Beltway traffic back and forth between Virginia and Maryland. They flew over the tandem bridge and a few more boats. None of them was the one they were looking for.
About another mile down river the pilot turned around and said, "The Park Police chopper just said they have a possible I.D. on the boat. They couldn't get a read on the name but they said the length and make appear to match."
Rapp looked through the front windshield at the other helicopter and then looked down at the river. There were two boats in sight. "Which one is he talking about?"
"The one closer to us. Right in the center."
"Slow up a bit and work your way inland a little more so we don't spook him."
Rapp continued looking over the pilot's shoulder until they were within a quarter mile and then he went back to the port-side window. With binoculars in hand he knelt on the ground and looked down at the boat. At first he didn't think it was their boat and then realized it was the canvas sun top that made it look different.
The two vessels passed each other, one headed north and the other south. Rapp peered through the binoculars trying to catch the name, but something was in the way. He could only catch the first letter. The writing was gold but all he could see was the letter 'S.' Nor could he make out the man who was driving the boat. He was concealed by the canvas top. Almost as an afterthought he realized what the object was that was obscuring the boat's name. Rapp focused in on the large white cooler lashed to the swim platform, and then lowered the binoculars.
He thought of something that Paul Reimer had said and then calmly told the pilot, "Tell the AWACS controller to mark that boat, and then start doubling back far enough away from the river so they can't see us."
* * *
Ninety
Rapp tried to recall the bomb-damage assessment Reimer had given him while he waited for the senior energy official to answer his phone. This thing was supposed to be in the fifteen-kiloton range, with a warhead roughly the size of a volleyball. It would leave a crater a half mile across and vaporize everything above ground for one and a half miles. The blast effects would cause damage as far away as ten miles, and the radioactive plume would go as far as the prevailing wind could take it.
When Reimer finally answered, Rapp asked, "Paul, we've found the boat, and I spotted something lashed to the aft swim deck. Would this device fit in one of the those big fishing coolers?"
Reimer was at the DOE's Germantown facility with his top people. "It would depend on what they were using for an explosive charge, but yes I suppose it would."
"All right "
"Where is the boat?"
"It's about a mile south of the Woodrow Wilson Bridge traveling north."
"Hold on, let me look at the map. A mile south of the Woodrow Wilson Bridge," Reimer repeated. "That's eight miles from the White House and the Capitol, and seven from the Pentagon. Mitch, we have to stop this boat as soon as possible. I won't waste your time giving you the details, but there is a consensus between our scientists and the Russians that this thing will not reach its full yield of fifteen kilotons. If we can keep the device outside a six-mile radius, I think we can save everything north and east of the National Mall. The Pentagon also stands a good chance of surviving the blast because of the way it's designed."
"What about the radiation?"
"The wind is from the east and it's picking up. Rural Virginia and possibly West Virginia would get hit hard with fallout, but if the wind stays constant, downtown Washington should be spared."
"So the sooner we stop this thing the better."
"Absolutely."
"Where's your Search Response Team?"
"One's on their way back up from Richmond, and the other one's downtown by the National Mall."