Call to Treason - Tom Clancy [84]
Jacquie was allowed to drive on.
The woman parked her van away from the sight line of the base sentry.
She withdrew a hefty five-gallon container and hoisted it onto her right shoulder. She saw through the tinted glass that the guard booth inside the lobby was on the left side. She had made it this far. The guard by the elevator at the National Crisis Management Center would not give her much trouble. Especially a woman holding a large plastic bottle of water. A bottle that was tinted deep blue to make the water appealing.
And to hide what was in the neck of the bottle. What the tint did not conceal, Jacquie's glove and the bottle's neck did.
The sentry was a husky woman who held the rank of corporal. Her name tag said Vosa.
"Corporal Vosa, did you know that water coolers consume four billion kilowatt hours a year, which produces an annual level of pollution equivalent to the emissions of three-quarters of a million cars?" she asked the guard.
"I did not, ma'am," said the NCO.
Playing the nerd was also a useful tactic when one wished to get in and out of a place quickly. No one liked to talk to a chatterbox. They liked it less when they were addressed by name. It made the individual feel as though their privacy had been invaded even more.
The guard checked her papers quickly.
"It says here you have a delivery of eleven bottles," the corporal said. "You only have one."
"With me, right now," Jacquie replied. "The cart only holds ten. I figured I would take this one first, then go back for the rest. Easy before hard, that's my motto."
The guard called down to Mac McCallie in Ed Cola-han's office. The CFO's group was in charge of supplies and the scheduling of deliveries.
McCallie informed the guard that CFWC was indeed expected. The sentry used the remote keypad at her station to summon the elevator.
"That four billion kilowatt hours a year is three hundred million dollars worth of utility bills," Jacquie added. "You ought to mention that to your superiors. Not that I want to see these guys lose business, but I'm a taxpayer, too. Maybe we can help cut the military budget by eliminating water coolers."
"It's a thought, ma'am," the guard said charitably. She wrote out a pass and handed it to Jacquie. The delivery woman slapped the sticky ID on her Herndon Road Services delivery uniform.
The elevator door opened. Jacquie saluted casually with her left hand and walked on. "See you in a few minutes," Jacquie said.
The elevator took the woman downstairs, where she was met by McCallie.
A former marine, judging from his posture. No one stood as straight and tight as the semperfi boys. He also offered to carry the bottle, another giveaway. She declined. He took Jacquie to the water cooler and stayed with her the entire time. She put the bottle beside the cooler, then went to go and get the other ten.
Which, of course, she would not be doing.
Jacquie went to the van. She drove away, waving to the guard as she left. He would not know she had failed to complete the delivery.
As she drove away, Jacquie pulled off the blond wig she was wearing.
She allowed her long black hair to cascade out. In less than one minute a wristwatch-size timer inside the bottle cap would activate the flux compression generator that Art Van Wezel had placed in the long bottleneck. The FCG consisted of a tube stuffed with explosives inside a slightly larger copper coil. The coil would be energized by a bank of capacitors, creating a magnetic field. Five seconds later, the timer would detonate the explosives. As the tube flared outward, it would touch the coil and create a short circuit. The short circuit would cause the magnetic field to compress while reducing the inductance of the coil. The result would be an electric shock that broke free as the device self-destructed. The shock would only last a few microseconds, but it would produce a current of tens of millions of amperes.
The resultant electromagnetic pulse would make a lightning bolt seem like a flashbulb by comparison. It would turn Op-Center into an electronic