Extreme Faction by Trevor Scott

said. “Who in the hell took the weapon? And, how much damage can they do with it?”
    The Director shifted nervously in his chair. “We don’t know who took it, sir. And the problem with the weapon they took is that it’s a cluster bomb. They could crack it open and pull out individual bomblets. There are over a hundred bomblets, each over four pounds.”
    â€œHow much damage could one bomblet do?” the president asked.
    The director gazed at concerned faces around the office. “It’s Sarin, a nerve gas. It could take out all of us in this room, the entire building, actually, assuming they had a method of dispersal.”
    â€œDon’t they have an explosive charge built in?” asked the chairman of the joint chiefs, an army general.
    â€œYes, Bill. But they’d have to set it off with another charge. Unless they could drop it from a plane, which is possible, considering one of the terrorists had to fly the plane to Johnston.”
    â€œSo, now you’re telling me someone has a hundred little nerve gas bombs that they could conceal in their pocket?” The president shook his head.
    â€œYes, Mr. President. A big pocket. And this could be significant as well.” The CIA director rose and placed a one-page message in front of the president.
    The president quickly read the message. “How reliable is this officer?”
    â€œTully O’Neill is one of our best,” the director said emphatically. “If he thinks there’s something more to that Ukrainian scientist’s death than meets the eye, we should listen. Yuri Tvchenko designed some of the Soviet Union’s most horrid chemical and biological weapons.”
    â€œYou think his death might be related to Johnston Atoll?” asked the secretary of state, skeptically.
    â€œAnything’s possible,” the Director said. “Tully O’Neill, the Odessa station chief, checked Tvchenko’s apartment in Odessa. He had a complete laboratory set up in a back room. But more importantly, the entire place had been ransacked. Furthermore, we’ve pinpointed the time his apartment was trashed to after the man’s death. Just as our man was leaving, the place was bombed. He was nearly killed.”
    The president, uncertain what to think, looked at his other advisors in the room. “Does this mean anything, people?”
    They all answered with blank stares.
    The Director continued. “Sir, it could mean that the man was killed prematurely. Tvchenko was under investigation by our officers, and an agent we had recruited at the university there. The agent said Tvchenko was about to make a breakthrough with a new chemical insecticide. Very deadly. Sarin, the older nerve gas taken from Johnston, is basically a strong insecticide. Which is why we think Tvchenko was still working for the Russians. Or someone else. It seems that Tvchenko was also hurting for money and could have been looking for a buyer.”
    â€œDammit,” the president said. “Anything else?”
    The Director shifted his eyes. “No, sir.”
    â€œWhat are you going to do about this?” the president asked openly.
    The Director waited, and when nobody said a word, he took the question. “Sir, we’re in a bit of luck. One of our former officers, Jake Adams, is in Odessa. In fact, he was with O’Neill when the bomb went off at Tvchenko’s apartment. He saved my man’s life.”
    â€œWhat’s his background?” the president asked.
    â€œAdams was in Air Force Intelligence before he joined the old Agency. He was an expert in chemical and biological weapons. He helped verify the withdrawal and destruction of them from the Ukraine after the break-up of the Soviet Union. He holds a bachelor’s in geopolitics and a master’s in international relations.”
    â€œHe’s private now? What does he do?”
    â€œHe runs a security business out of the Portland,