“And then what?” the attorney general asked.
“There are backup generators, so no one’s going to lose electricity. And the plant itself has an emergency power supply,” Lord said, and he was known for being an ardent advocate of nuclear energy.
Wide waterways ran on the plant’s two sides, one leading from the James, the other to a man-made lake nearby. There were acres of transformers and power lines, and parking lots with many cars, belonging to hostages and the people who had arrived to help. There did not seem an easy way to access the main building without being seen, for any nuclear power plant is designed with the most stringent security in mind. The point was to keep out everyone not authorized, and unfortunately, that included us. A roof entry, for example, would require cutting holes in metal and concrete, and could not be done without risk of being seen.
I suspected Wesley was thinking about a possible amphibious plan, for HRT divers could enter undetected either the river or the take, and follow a waterway very close to one side of the main building. It looked to me that they could swim within twenty yards of the very door the terrorists had stormed, but how the agents would escape detection once ashore, I could not imagine.
Wesley did not spell out any plan, for the senator and the attorney general were allies, even friends, but they were also politicians. Neither the FBI nor the police needed Washington inserting itself into this mission. What the governor had just done was bad enough.
“Now if you’ll notice the large white RV that’s close to the main building,” Wesley said, “that’s our inner perimeter command post.”
“I thought that belonged to a news crew,” the attorney general commented.
“That’s where we try to establish a relationship with Mr. Hand and his Merry Band.”
“How?”
“For starters, I want to talk with them,” Wesley said.
“No one’s talked to them yet?” the senator asked.
“So far,” he said, “they don’t seem interested in us.”
The Bell 222 slowly made its loud descent as news crews assembled near a helipad across the road from the visitors’ center. We grabbed briefcases and bags and disembarked in the strong wind of flying blades. Wesley and I walked swiftly and in silence. I glanced back only once and saw Senator Lord surrounded by microphones while our nation’s most powerful lawyer delivered a string of emotional quotes.
We walked inside the visitors’ center with its many displays intended for schoolchildren and the curious. But now the entire area was divided by local and state police. They were drinking sodas, eating fast food and snacks near plats and maps on easels, and I could not help but wonder how much of a difference any of us could make.
“Where’s your outpost?” Wesley asked me.
“It should be with the squads. I think I spotted our refrigerator truck from the air.”
His eyes were roaming around. They stopped on the men’s room door opening and swinging shut. Marino walked out, hitching up his pants again. I had not expected to see him here. If for no other reason, I would have thought his fear of radiation would have kept him home.
“I’m getting coffee,” Wesley said. “Anybody?”
“Yo. Make it a double.”
“Thanks,” I said, then to Marino I added, “This is the last place I would have thought to find you.”
“See all these guys walking around in here?” he said.
“We’re part of a task force so all the local jurisdictions got somebody here that can call home and say what the hell’s going on. Bottom line is, the chief sent my ass out here, and no, I’m not thrilled about it. And by the way, I saw your buddy Chief Steels out here, and you’ll be happy to know Roche has been suspended without pay.”
I did not reply, for Roche was not important right now.
“So that ought to make you feel a little better,” Marino went on.
I looked at him. His stiff white collar was rimmed in sweat, and his belt with all its gear creaked as he moved.
“While I’m here, I’ll do my best to keep an eye on you.