Act of War - Brad Thor Page 0,115
clearing everything away from the shared wall so that a portable X-ray machine could be wheeled in. As soon as the machines were in place, they began scanning what was on the other side.
The X-rays were bracketed by two telescoping arms, which could be raised and lowered to provide the greatest range of images possible. The pictures they sent back were quite interesting.
There were two extra-large metal cylinders that reminded Harvath of helium tanks, what looked like a rolling metal toolbox with drawers, some boxes filled with clothes or some sort of folded material, another box that appeared to contain firearms and ammunition, and then a series of different boxes that the X-ray machines couldn’t penetrate. They read as solid black.
The Old Man raised his eyebrows. “Lead-lined?”
Harvath nodded. “Yup. Not good.”
“Are you thinking radiological?” Roe asked.
“Yup. And like I said, not good.”
“Agreed.”
They watched as the teams backed out of their respective units and went over to the target units themselves.
After failing to register any nuclear, radiological, chemical, or biological signatures on the outside, the teams began meticulously mapping the seams of the door frames. Deadbolt Five was the first to catch something.
“Ops Center Command, this is Deadbolt Five. Over.”
“Trip wire?” Roe asked.
“Maybe,” Harvath replied. “Or a tamper indicator.”
“Go ahead, Deadbolt Five. Over.”
“Are you getting this picture off my helmet cam? It’s on the right-hand side of the frame, about sixteen inches off the ground? Over.”
“Roger that, Deadbolt Five. Over.”
It was a small, clear decal. Had they not been looking for it, they never would have seen it.
“Ops Center Command. This is Deadbolt Four. We’ve got one, too. Over.”
“Deadbolt Six to Ops Center Command. Same thing here. Over.”
“Tamper seals,” said Harvath. “Lets the bad guys know if anyone has been in their unit.”
Using a mild substance, the teams carefully removed the seals and marked the spot on the frames with chalk. They then went back to searching for anything else that might warrant special attention before making their entry.
“Ops Center Command, this is Deadbolt Four. Over.”
“Go ahead, Deadbolt Four. Over.”
“Are you getting this lock via my cam? Over.”
“Roger that, Deadbolt Four. Looks like a five-wheel combination padlock, brand name is Squire. Over.”
“Deadbolt Five has the same lock here. Over.”
“Same lock for Deadbolt Six. Over.”
“Ops Center Command. This is Deadbolt Four. I haven’t seen one of these before. Do we have any information on this lock? Over.”
The plan had been to pick the locks, not snap them off with the bolt cutters. This way, if they wanted, they could put everything back the way they had found it.
“Deadbolt Four. This is Ops Center Command. We’ve pulled a schematic here. It appears you’re looking at a Squire SS50C. It’s a high-security padlock manufactured in the United Kingdom. Their website calls it the strongest combination padlock on the market. At least a hundred thousand combinations. Over.”
“It’s highly attack resistant. Any suggestion on how to get into it? Over.”
Before Ops Center Command could reply, the agent was hailed by an entry agent on one of the other teams. “Deadbolt Four, this is Deadbolt Six. Over.”
“Go ahead, Deadbolt Six. Over.”
“The locking cam engages on the inside of the shackle, but the high shoulder design won’t let you work a regular steel shim all the way into the opening. Over.”
“Roger that, Deadbolt Six. Any idea of what will work? Over.”
“Use a zipper shim. Feed them in from each side until they bottom out on top of the locking cam. Then grab the tops with two small vise grips and push down. It should overpower the internal spring on the locking cam and pop it open without damaging the lock. Over.”
“Copy that. Stand by.”
Three minutes later, Deadbolt Four radioed. “Bingo. Lock has been removed.”
Deadbolt Teams Five and Six chimed in with similar successes right after. It was time to go to the next phase.
With the padlocks removed and the door frames mapped, the strike teams retreated and a robot in each city was sent to make entry.
It took a certain degree of finesse, but via each robot’s articulated arm, their controllers were able to get the rolling metal doors raised high enough for the machines to slip in underneath. None of the doors were booby-trapped.
From inside, the robots sent back images very similar to those that had been seen earlier. Careful not to jar the stack of cardboard boxes, each controller had his robot pick up a box, transport it outside, and set it down. A human being was going to have to take it from this point.
Wearing