Going Dark(37)

No one made a sound.

“Our contact inside Turkey Point learned that Marcus was passing information to a government agent, and our man took it upon himself to remove Marcus from the equation. He did this without consulting me or anyone else within ELF.”

Flynn was staring at the bare ground at his feet.

“So much for nonviolence,” Thorn said.

“This man was acting on his own. What he did was outrageous and wrong, and I’ve let him know we will not tolerate any more violent acts.”

“So our cover’s blown,” Prince said. “We have to shut down. Get the hell out of here.”

“No,” Leslie said. “I believe we’re okay.”

“But the feds know we’re out here, they know our goal.”

“The moment Wally put the ELF logo on their system, they knew we’d targeted the plant. They don’t know anything more specific than that.”

“But they could raid the island, bring us all in.” Prince looked at the others as if trying to marshal support, but no one responded.

“And what would they find? Kayaks, a solar panel, a laptop computer with a sterilized hard drive, and a group camping out in the wilderness. No, they won’t raid the island. We’ve done nothing wrong. They couldn’t know our attack plan because Marcus didn’t know it, and none of the rest of you do either. Even if they took us into custody, it would be useless. If one of you wanted to confess, you have nothing specific to reveal.”

“When do we hear it,” Pauly said, “the plan?”

Pauly’s voice was deep and velvety, enunciating each syllable with the care of a DJ on a late-night jazz station.

“I can tell you this much,” she said. “Wally’s computer incursion has produced the desired results. They’re worried about the plant’s security, and they’re reacting exactly as we expected.”

“And how is that?” Pauly said.

“Their security team is meeting now. We’ll hear the results this afternoon and we’ll respond accordingly.”

No one spoke. Wally shifted his weight from foot to foot as if he had to piss. Cameron stood straight, shoulders erect, hands gripped behind his back as if doing an isometric workout on the sly. They weren’t exactly spellbound by Leslie, but they were listening. Something about the quiet assurance in her voice seemed to soothe this rowdy group. Thorn had never seen or imagined this side of Leslie. To him she was still the damaged kid on his dock, insecure, defenseless. But the woman who stood before this group was smart and determined, had a steady command of the situation. Nothing fragile about her.

She explained that for the next few days no one would be leaving the island except Prince, who would come and go, continuing his work with the crocodiles, business as usual.

Finally, she informed them, there was to be a change in the routine. A simple but necessary form of security. The buddy system was now in force. For the next week, they would be paired up and would never be out of sight or proximity of their buddy even for a few seconds. The pairings were as follows: Leslie and Cameron. Flynn and Wally. And Thorn and Pauly Chee.

“No fucking way,” Wally said. “This peter puffer and me, you put us together, one of us will be dead by sundown, and his name won’t be Wally.”

“That’s my decision. From this moment on you’ll be in constant contact with your partner, day and night, until we’ve achieved our goal.”

Wally started to protest again, but his brother turned to him, brought his mouth close to Wally’s ear, and spoke in a harsh, guttural tongue Thorn didn’t recognize. Wally flinched and sealed his lips.

With that, the meeting was adjourned.





FIFTEEN





“SO WE’RE GOOD? YOU GET a feel for the layout?” Assistant Director Emily Sheen greeted them at the door of the conference room and motioned them inside.

Nicole said yes, a good feel. Sheffield waffled his hand.

He and Nicole, guided by Claude Sellers, had completed an hour ride-around crammed in the front seat of a Ford pickup, no air-conditioning, Claude at the wheel, showing off the highlights of the three-thousand-acre complex. Afterward they’d spent another half hour covering nearly every square foot of the five-story containment building and the dual control rooms full of gleaming hardware, and, good God, ten minutes later Frank could still feel the rumble of the turbines in his sockets.

Claude had insisted on the tour. If they were going to work together, the FBI and NIPC and the plant’s security team, Sellers said they needed a hands-on feel for the outdoor layout, the scale and distances, before they sat down at the table and began in earnest to refine their threat assessments.