The Carolina Coup: Another Rwandan Genocide? (The Jeannine Ryan Series Book 4) by James E. Mosimann
Authors: James E. Mosimann
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would call to tell her he had retrieved the documents and that NSA computer token.
***
******
Chapter 6
Thursday, August 23
Hugh Byrd sat in his office on the third floor of the Torbee Building. Hugh was a damned fine security officer, and he knew it. Up to now his government career had flourished.
When William Hamm had been assigned to Hugh’s unit as the CIA’s representative in the management of security for the unit’s current project, Sea Turtle Navigation , Hugh had ground his teeth. The project was a flimsy cover for the real work on missile guidance, and he had feared that Hamm would discover that something was awry.
Further, Hugh knew Hamm’s reputation from his work when based in Vienna, Austria. Hamm was an operative who refused to cut corners. In short, Hamm was honest.
The last thing Hugh Byrd needed was an honest coworker!
But Hamm had become suspicious and stolen Hugh’s secrets. Hamm was neutralized, and, unlike Stew Marks who was tracking him, Hugh knew where he was.
So now Hamm’s girlfriend Ryan was the problem. She had the items Hamm had stolen. Hugh needed them back before she could discern their significance. Damn! Tom Holder had failed to seize the documents and neutralize Ryan on I-95 and again in Wilson. Tom was good at his trade. The Ryan woman was either lucky or exceptionally skillful.
He glanced at the clock, 7:00 am. Holder was waiting in Kinston. Hugh shut the safe, rotated the dial, locked his desk, and checked out of the building.
He headed for North Carolina.
***
In Topsail, North Carolina, Jeannine Ryan awoke to the repetitive rumblings of the waves outside her window. The door to her bedroom was cracked ajar, and the odor of fresh coffee slipped into the room along with a salty sea breeze. She shook herself awake and looked about.
OK, this is Wayne’s house on Topsail Island. How long did I sleep?
As if in answer, she heard Wayne call.
“Jeannine, you’ve been out cold for eight hours. Time to get up. Coffee’s ready. How do you feel?”
“Fine, I mean, good! I’m coming. Give me a few minutes.”
By the time she walked into the great room, a hearty serving of fried eggs, thick West Virginia bacon, hash browns and warm toast awaited her. Wayne, poured her a full cup of steaming black coffee. She took a long swallow, sat down, and attacked the eggs and bacon with vigor.
Wayne waited while she ate. She took a last swallow and looked up.
“All right Wayne, what’s in Bill’s briefcase?”
“The first thing is a report by a company called RadGuard about Strontium-90 in soil.”
“Sr-90?”
“Yes. A radioactive byproduct of nuclear fission. In the 1950’s and 60’s its levels were high due to atmospheric testing of nukes. They found high levels of it in the shed ‘baby teeth’ of thousands of children. Those born in 1963 had a level 50 times higher than those born in 1950. With those and other findings the U. S., Russia and Great Britain agreed to abandon atmospheric testing. After the ban, the level in baby teeth dropped. By 1980 the levels were pretty normal.”
He took a breath.
“I found some specific numbers on the Internet for Sr-90 in milk. In New Jersey levels dropped from more than 20 picoCuries per Liter in 1963, to 8 in 1970 and to under 5 by 1980. At present, the level is about 2 picoCuries per Liter.”
“So the ban works. But what about this report by RadGuard?”
“RadGuard prepared it for a French company named SÉGAG. The report features a graph that shows that the concentration of Sr-90 in the soil decreases as you go further from some source. They don’t identify what kind of source, but there are still about twenty picoCuries forty miles away from it.”
Wayne put the graph on the table.
“I see that. What’s your point?”
“I’m disturbed because RadGuard’s CD has two sets of data for the same graph. Something is wrong. I made a
***
******
Chapter 6
Thursday, August 23
Hugh Byrd sat in his office on the third floor of the Torbee Building. Hugh was a damned fine security officer, and he knew it. Up to now his government career had flourished.
When William Hamm had been assigned to Hugh’s unit as the CIA’s representative in the management of security for the unit’s current project, Sea Turtle Navigation , Hugh had ground his teeth. The project was a flimsy cover for the real work on missile guidance, and he had feared that Hamm would discover that something was awry.
Further, Hugh knew Hamm’s reputation from his work when based in Vienna, Austria. Hamm was an operative who refused to cut corners. In short, Hamm was honest.
The last thing Hugh Byrd needed was an honest coworker!
But Hamm had become suspicious and stolen Hugh’s secrets. Hamm was neutralized, and, unlike Stew Marks who was tracking him, Hugh knew where he was.
So now Hamm’s girlfriend Ryan was the problem. She had the items Hamm had stolen. Hugh needed them back before she could discern their significance. Damn! Tom Holder had failed to seize the documents and neutralize Ryan on I-95 and again in Wilson. Tom was good at his trade. The Ryan woman was either lucky or exceptionally skillful.
He glanced at the clock, 7:00 am. Holder was waiting in Kinston. Hugh shut the safe, rotated the dial, locked his desk, and checked out of the building.
He headed for North Carolina.
***
In Topsail, North Carolina, Jeannine Ryan awoke to the repetitive rumblings of the waves outside her window. The door to her bedroom was cracked ajar, and the odor of fresh coffee slipped into the room along with a salty sea breeze. She shook herself awake and looked about.
OK, this is Wayne’s house on Topsail Island. How long did I sleep?
As if in answer, she heard Wayne call.
“Jeannine, you’ve been out cold for eight hours. Time to get up. Coffee’s ready. How do you feel?”
“Fine, I mean, good! I’m coming. Give me a few minutes.”
By the time she walked into the great room, a hearty serving of fried eggs, thick West Virginia bacon, hash browns and warm toast awaited her. Wayne, poured her a full cup of steaming black coffee. She took a long swallow, sat down, and attacked the eggs and bacon with vigor.
Wayne waited while she ate. She took a last swallow and looked up.
“All right Wayne, what’s in Bill’s briefcase?”
“The first thing is a report by a company called RadGuard about Strontium-90 in soil.”
“Sr-90?”
“Yes. A radioactive byproduct of nuclear fission. In the 1950’s and 60’s its levels were high due to atmospheric testing of nukes. They found high levels of it in the shed ‘baby teeth’ of thousands of children. Those born in 1963 had a level 50 times higher than those born in 1950. With those and other findings the U. S., Russia and Great Britain agreed to abandon atmospheric testing. After the ban, the level in baby teeth dropped. By 1980 the levels were pretty normal.”
He took a breath.
“I found some specific numbers on the Internet for Sr-90 in milk. In New Jersey levels dropped from more than 20 picoCuries per Liter in 1963, to 8 in 1970 and to under 5 by 1980. At present, the level is about 2 picoCuries per Liter.”
“So the ban works. But what about this report by RadGuard?”
“RadGuard prepared it for a French company named SÉGAG. The report features a graph that shows that the concentration of Sr-90 in the soil decreases as you go further from some source. They don’t identify what kind of source, but there are still about twenty picoCuries forty miles away from it.”
Wayne put the graph on the table.
“I see that. What’s your point?”
“I’m disturbed because RadGuard’s CD has two sets of data for the same graph. Something is wrong. I made a
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