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  When he entered the barn, the space was in surprisingly good shape. It had been largely cleared of animals and a bunch of folding chairs had been set up. They were occupied by his neighbors—mostly former military, FBI, and CIA. Some were getting a little long in the tooth, but not one had ever let him down when he needed them.

  “Thanks for coming,” Rapp said, taking a position in front of the group. “I know it’s cold so I’m going to make this as quick as I can.”

  Anna was at the back of the barn with her shoulder in the last sheep’s side. It seemed reluctant to go out into the wind, but she finally persuaded it. When the door closed behind her, Rapp continued.

  “First of all, nothing I say here gets repeated outside these walls, understood?”

  There were general nods, but none were really necessary. Every one of them had proven their ability to keep their mouth shut years ago.

  “Some of you might have already heard this, but there’s a credible threat to the electrical grid. We’ve picked up chatter from a terrorist group that may be capable of taking down the entire country and, worse, keep it down.”

  Mike Nash’s wife was the first to speak. “When you say ‘keep it down’ what kind of time frame are you talking about?”

  “As much as a year.”

  That got some quiet murmurs as everyone looked at each other.

  “We’re doing what we can to track down the people involved and harden the grid, but both are easier said than done. So, while we can hope for the best, we need to plan for the worst.”

  That got a few more nods, but expressions weren’t exactly confident. A year was a long time and the ramifications of an attack like this weren’t easy to wrap your mind around.

  “What are you suggesting we do?” Maggie Nash said, speaking up again. “I mean, we’ve got four kids.”

  “Well, we’re already set up pretty well here. Everyone has separate power generation and storage, well water, and weapons. But that’s just a start. First, you’re going to want to recalibrate your investments—move them around the world and focus them on gold, businesses that don’t operate in the US, and maybe even companies that are in the disaster relief business. For those of you who can, I’d suggest an extended foreign trip. If that’s not viable, then you’re going to have to lay in a significant amount of food.” He pointed to the front row. “Use Claudia as a resource. You’re going to have to order things from various places, use multiple shipping methods, and have it sent to different addresses. If you go to a physical store, pay cash. Because if this happens, people are going to get desperate fast. You don’t want someone at Sam’s Club or UPS or Cabela’s remembering you.”

  “What about our families?” Skip McMahon said. He was a retired FBI agent with family spread across the United States.

  “Again, nothing I’m saying can leave these walls. If you want to bring your family here, you need to make a plan as to how to accomplish that. Keep in mind that the first few days won’t be that bad. Everyone’s lived through blackouts and they’re going to equate what’s happening with that. Again, Claudia will be happy to help. But it’s not going to be easy. Communications are going to be one of the first things to go down and driving long distances is going to be a problem for a number of reasons—particularly if you have to go through or get out of cities.”

  McMahon nodded, staring at the ground and thinking the same thing everyone else was. That his life didn’t exist just on top of that mountain. He had friends he’d known for years. An extended family spread throughout the country. All of whom would be trapped in the dark.

  “If this happens, we’re going to have to treat this subdivision as a fortress. Blackout protocols will go into effect immediately. Any visible light is going to stand out and after about a week or so people are going to want to know what’s generating it. I know we all have weapons, but the last thing we want to do is put ourselves in a position that we have to use them.” Rapp paused for a moment and looked out over the worried faces of his neighbors. “There’s no way to sugarcoat this. In a scenario like this, a lot of people aren’t going to make it. And some of those people are going to be close to us.”

  CHAPTER 18

  NEAR LURAY

  VIRGINIA

  USA

  IT was just after 10 p.m. and John Alton had been driving a mix of freeways, rural highways, and residential neighborhoods for hours. He’d seen nothing, but that didn’t prove much. The government no longer communicated over open radio frequencies and they sure as hell didn’t tail people in late-model sedans. This was the era of satellites, GPS trackers, and secure cell phones.

  His nerves were stretched to the breaking point, but there was really no reason for it. Why would the CIA or any other government agency be watching him? He’d just spent six hours responding to every question Irene Kennedy had about the grid. And while he hadn’t always answered fully, he’d answered truthfully. There was absolutely no reason for anyone to suspect him. In fact, the opposite was true. To anyone paying attention, he’d look like the poster child for grid security.

  So, he was safe. That was the good news. The bad news was that his meticulously planned timetable was fucked. That CIA bitch had an almost supernatural ability to ask the right questions. He’d been forced to provide her with enough actionable information that she could actually throw a wrench into his machine. Time, which had been on his side only a few days ago, was now his mortal enemy. Not only had they already started physically securing America’s critical power infrastructure; they were talking about doing a deep dive into major power company mainframes. How long would it be before they uncovered the malware he’d put on those servers? The list of people with sufficient access and expertise to do something like this was pretty short. And he was at the top of it.

  Alton turned onto a narrow street that climbed steeply to the north, taking him into clouds that were spitting a mix of rain and snow. The outside temperature was hanging in at thirty-three degrees—a number that darkened his mood even further.

  Most people believed that a power failure during winter would be a worst-case scenario. That was just their gut talking, though. Millions of years after descending from the trees, his species’s fear of cold and darkness persisted.

  In truth, an attack on the grid would be far more effective during the hottest part of summer. That’s when air conditioners were pushing the grid to its limit. That’s when fires from overloaded transformers and sagging power lines would run out of control. And while it was possible to wear more clothes to combat frigid temperatures, there was very little that could be done in the face of unbearable heat.

  Even more infuriating to him was winter’s dampening effect on civil unrest. During the summer, nighttime streets would be filled with angry, frightened, and hungry people too hot to sleep. The freezing rain currently splattering his windshield would keep all but the most desperate people huddled inside.

  Of course, as the darkness stretched into weeks and months, it wouldn’t matter. But instead of dying in an explosion of fire and violence, America would just fade away in a rising tide of starvation, thirst, and disease. Boring, but he didn’t really have much choice at this point. He couldn’t give the government time to put defensive measures in place and, even more important, he couldn’t give them time to discover his involvement.

  The unpaved road he was looking for appeared in the haze of his headlights and he turned onto it. After another hundred yards, he spotted the agreed-upon pullout and coasted to a stop. A moment later, the SUV’s doors opened and three men got in.

  It was two more than he’d initially planned on, but again he hadn’t had much of a choice. Irene Kennedy was hard to get a bead on. She worked really hard to exude bland competence, but there was more going on behind those eyes than she let on. In the unlikely event that he’d made a mistake at any time over the five years he’d spent planning this thing, she was going to find it. And if that happened, it wouldn’t hurt to have a little muscle on his side. r />
  “Do any of you have communications devices?” he asked as he pulled back out onto the road. The man in the passenger seat was Feisal Ibrahim, the tech expert he’d met before. The one who had helped him dispose of his former boss’s body.

  “You told us not to carry any.”

  “So, no phones. No smart watches. No radios. Nothing that has an electrical charge or battery.”

  “I said no.”

  Alton made a U-turn and glanced in the rearview mirror at the shadowy faces behind him. As expected, they looked dangerous. Which was a good thing as long as they could be controlled. Or gotten rid of, if it became necessary. In the end, they represented yet another unpredictable element in a plan that a few weeks ago had been a Swiss watch.

  “Why are we here?” Ibrahim said.

  “Because you fucked everything up so bad that I can’t fix it alone.”

  “Meaning what?”

  “First, we have to move the timetable forward.”

  “I thought you said that summer would be—”

  “That was before we had Homeland Security breathing down our necks. In fact, I just had a meeting with the bastard who killed your people at the Sunset Motel.”

  “What?”

  “That’s right. They called me in to talk to them about the grid.”

  “But they don’t suspect you,” the man said, his voice turning sharp enough that the men in back perked up.

  “Not yet. But it’s only a matter of time. So, we need to get this thing done now. And that isn’t just a matter of blowing up a few random substations and tapping a few commands into a keyboard. In order for it to have full impact, the attack has to be managed over the long term. The government’s going to do everything they can to get the power back online and I can block those efforts. But not if I’m dead. Do you understand?”

  “That you be protected at all cost?” Ibrahim said with a hint of unhidden distaste. “Yes, I understand.”

  In truth, the need to manage this thing after the initial attack was almost nonexistent. But Alton needed these assholes motivated in case the man from the motel showed up on his doorstop. While it might be true that they wanted nothing more than to die for Allah, his plans were different.

  “I knew you were a smart guy,” Alton said. “We’re in the homestretch, Feisal. This is it. You are on the verge of doing something no one’s ever come even close to—destroying America. If you follow my orders to the letter, this is going to happen. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  Alton thumbed at the men in the backseat.

  “Do they speak English?”

  “Only a little.”

  “Then tell them what we just talked about.”

  Ibrahim turned in his seat and started speaking to his men in Arabic. Alton hated not understanding what they said but, once again, there was nothing he could do about it. He was starting to feel like a man floating in the ocean getting pummeled by waves. It was an uncomfortable position for someone used to things being the other way around. His nature was to be the wave, not the man.

  When Ibrahim finished talking, Alton reached between the seats and retrieved three hoods. Really just black pillowcases he’d bought from Amazon, but functional nonetheless.

  “Put these on.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want you to know where we’re going. If I have to send you out on a mission and you get caught, I don’t want you leading the government back to our base of operations.”

  Ibrahim stared down at the dark cloth for a moment and then put it on, ordering his men to do the same.

  * * *

  After three hours of driving at random, Alton finally pulled onto the mud and gravel road that had always been his destination. The men in the car with him were still reclined and wearing their hoods, making it impossible for them to pinpoint their location or even be certain as to what state they were in.

  “Don’t move,” he ordered as he pulled up to a dilapidated gate and stepped out. “I’ll be right back.”

  The cold penetrated his sweatshirt like it wasn’t there, but he ignored it. The time had finally come. The planning, the worry, the hesitation… It was all over. This was really happening.

  Numbness was already taking hold in his fingers as he slid a key into a rusted lock and released the gate. Once the SUV was through, he relocked it and continued on, leaving nothing but a faint set of tire tracks.

  When they reached the clearing five minutes later, the darkness was profound. Alton’s headlights swept over the burned ruins of a farmhouse before revealing the vague outline of a barn seventy-five yards to the northeast. Its weathered doors opened at the touch of a remote and he pulled in.

  The cavernous space was strewn with rusting agricultural equipment and dominated by an old military truck that looked like it had been abandoned there for decades. He pulled in behind it and shut off his engine. The lights would stay on for another minute or so, which would be just enough.

  “Everyone out. But keep the hoods on.”

  He had them link arms before leading them out into the rain. A penlight kept him on course, but it still took longer than expected to reach the burned house and pick through its blackened remains.

  He’d bought the property four years ago, using a series of shell corporations and foreign partnerships to hide his identity. The remoteness of the hundred-acre lot had been the thing that first attracted him, but it was the house that sealed the deal. Or, to be more precise, the extensive Cold War bomb shelter that had been built beneath it.

  After reducing the building to cinders with a carefully orchestrated electrical fire, he’d called in several out-of-town contractors to reinforce the shelter’s walls and rough in modern plumbing and wiring. The pretense was that he planned on rebuilding a new house on top of it and would eventually use the shelter as a basement.

  At the same time, he’d had an apartment built above the barn—a modest weekend getaway spot until he could get the main house rebuilt. Nothing that would stick in the feeble minds of the construction people who’d participated.

  The rest of the work had been substantial, but he’d done it himself. The shelter now boasted off-grid power, state-of-the-art communications equipment, and enough food and booze to last two full years without rationing. Not that he expected to need it. He’d spent months devising a plan to get him across the border to his mansion in Mexico after the show was over. Specialized vehicles, fuel caches, alternate routes… It’d be fun. Like Mad Max, except without the weirdos with Mohawks. They’d all be dead.

  Despite being the one who’d installed it, finding the bunker’s entrance took Alton another couple of minutes. Finally, he located the hidden latch that freed a collapsed wall designed to be light enough to lift. Beneath it was the original steel hatch.

  Once the hooded men were down the ladder, he resealed the hatch and turned on the lights.

  “You can take them off now.”

  They complied and he spread his arms wide. “Welcome home.”

  The narrow passage was made of concrete, but painted white over a floor covered with plush carpet. The shelter was laid out roughly in the shape of a capital I and he pointed to the southern end.

  “Storage on that side. Mostly food, some emergency equipment, and batteries. Water comes in from a well.”

  “Weapons?” Ibrahim asked.

  Alton nodded. “An assault rifle and pistol, among other things. Plenty of ammo. But we won’t need it. More important for you is that I put some mattresses and blankets back there. With a little TLC, it should make a pretty decent barracks. Only one bathroom, though. We’ll have to make do.”

  He pointed to the other end of the space. “My living quarters and the command center are over there. And that’s it. Not particularly complicated.”

  One of the men spoke in Arabic and Ibrahim translated. “They would like to examine the weapons.”

  Of course they would.

  Alton shrugged. “Whateve
r.”

  “And I would like to see your command center.”

  Alton motioned for the man to follow as he started along the corridor. They passed through a steel door at the far end that opened onto a room about ten feet square. Along one wall was a desk arranged with computer and communications equipment. Above it hung numerous monitors and when Alton hit the main power switch, everything came to life.

  He took a seat in a high-backed leather chair and spun it toward Ibrahim as national newsfeeds appeared on the monitors.

  “I need the exact locations of your other nine men as well as detailed information on their backgrounds and training.”

  “Of course.”

  Alton tapped a few commands into his computer and the newsfeeds were replaced with maps of the United States, each covered with hundreds of red dots in various sizes.

  “These are all the critical physical targets. With only nine guys, they’re going to have to work individually. Basically, knock one out and move on to another until someone puts a bullet in them. Once you give me their information, I’ll work out an attack protocol for each of them.”

  “Understood.”

  “Then don’t just stand there. Get on it.”

  Ibrahim disappeared through the door, leaving Alton to contemplate the maps around him. Nine men. And now a good half of them would likely have to be immediately sacrificed. While it would be easy to have them avoid the sites he’d told the government about, it’d be too obvious. That suspicious bitch Irene Kennedy would figure out he was behind it in about two seconds.

  Not that there would be much she could do with the information. But it didn’t pay to take chances. The last thing he needed was that freak from the motel showing up on his doorstep.

  CHAPTER 19

  OUTSIDE OF ASHEVILLE

  NORTH CAROLINA

  USA

  THE mountains surrounding Rapp reminded him of home. The only difference was that instead of lying on his sofa by the fireplace, he was sitting on the frozen ground getting snowed on. Not the best Christmas morning he’d ever had. Though, sadly, also not the worst.