CHAPTER 9

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McMillan Sand Filtration Site

North Washington, DC

2016

A bead of sweat dripped from Mohammad Azir's balding scalp as he continued to meticulously work on the device before him. He somehow directed his nerves out through his tapping feet and twitching eyes, leaving his hands unaffected and calm. They remained still as they curled the wires into the device and connected them to a circuit.

He worked under the one faint light illuminated in the deep, dark expanse of the underground storage chamber of the McMillan Sand Filtration Site. The chamber was no less than twenty acres, stretching past what the eye could see. It had abutments running the room, lifting the ceiling off the floor. It was a forgotten historic site that had been closed for some time. It once held mounds of sand and water, but now only held a table, mirror and a faded armoire up against the cement wall. Azir, seated at the table, wiped his sweaty palms on his pant leg as he continued his careful movements over the device. These kinds of technicians often worked alone, in case something went wrong - collateral damage would be minimal.

Azir picked up his cigarette and inhaled a long drag. He could hear the crackle of burning tobacco echo through the chamber. The smoke unfolded upwards as he placed the cigarette back in the ashtray. He selected a pair of pliers from the tools laid out on a leather slab. As he continued working like a surgeon, he curled up the mass of wires and tucked them with a steady hand in a pocket of the vest. His hands lifted and paused. The moment before him would be one of life or death. It wasn't by any means his first device, but by far his largest device, which meant more room for mistakes. He ran over every step in his head, reviewing where he could have slipped up. No such thought occurred. He had done it perfectly by the book and he was sure. He wiped his brow and approached the device. He plugged the end of the wire into the back of a 4x6 monitor. The monitor booted up and displayed the automatic syncing screen. The progress showed 25% synced, 50% synced, 75%, then 100%. Sync Complete. He exhaled a breath of relief. The bomb had been successfully constructed.

Azir unplugged the monitor and lifted the device up off the table. He then slipped his arms through two leather holes and slipped the vest over his sweaty shirt. Attaching the Velcro on either side so it fit snug around his abdomen, he approached a stained mirror against the wall and plucked the trigger device attached by wires from its holster on the vest. Looking at his reflection, Azir gulped a nerve as his reflection showed a man covered in C-4 and wires. He flicked the trigger guard up from the detonator and red lights on the vest illuminated, signaling that the bomb was armed. The test was now completed. He flicked the trigger guard back over the detonator button, powering down the vest. He unstrapped it from his body and with careful hands approached the armoire. There he hung the vest up, guarding the device from dust and insects crawling about.

His cell phone came to his sweating ear, excited to relay the progress.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Fifty feet above him, standing on a fifty acre expanse of green lawn stood Agent Zero. Twenty sand silos lined the field – ivy had grown up their façade, hiding their concrete foundation. Each silo had an opening at its base, resembling a fireplace to a fifteen foot wide chimney. One could see the age of the facility immediately, but it often went overlooked as it sat back in the recesses of the large field, guarded by a barbed wire fence which set the perimeter.

A cell phone buzzed.

"Hello?"

"The big one is complete," Azir informed.

"Very good...How much bigger than the Metro device?"

"3 to 4 times the size," Azir responded.

"Good..." Agent Zero hung up the phone.

Xander has the package and played right into my hand. The device has been completed. The first target has been hit... All is going according to plan.

A sinister laugh sounded into the night, as the figure's gaze followed the avenue to the passing taxis carrying passengers ignorant of what was to come - along the apartment buildings speckled by the occasional lit window - past the shop owners closing the shutters over their display window - above the manhole covers that sent pillars of steam into the city's skyline. Agent Zero's long gaze finally settled on a large building towering over the city and focused as if it was a bull's eye of a target.

The figure's hand reached out to the Capitol building before its eyes and enclosed a vengeful fist around it.



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