Chapter 15 - The Nuremberg Convoys
The tactical briefing inside Arthur's subterranean bunker lasted ninety minutes, but it felt like ninety seconds.
On the digital map displayed on my forensic terminal, the route from the old Grafenwöhr training annex down through the Bavarian hills toward the Czech border glowed with satellite telemetry.
"The asset is housed in an underground depot called Facility 404," Arthur explained, tapping the screen with a blunt finger. "Built in sixty-two by NATO. Decommissioned on paper in ninety-five. But the paperwork was signed by General Thomas Sterling—the current senior civilian undersecretary for defense procurement."
Nathan let out a low whistle. "Sterling is on the short list for Secretary of Defense in the upcoming cabinet reshuffle. He's untouchable."
"Nobody is untouchable once Task Force Obsidian executes an Article 15 emergency intercept," I countered. "I hold direct presidential authority under Title 50. If Sterling is moving nuclear material through European territory, we don't need NATO clearance. We hit the convoy, secure the fissile core, and link the transport manifests directly to his signature."
"You're assuming they're using military contractors, Claire," Arthur said, turning to me with a wary look. "They aren't. Sterling hired an off-the-books private military outfit called Vanguard Shield. Former French Foreign Legion, ex-Spetsnaz, and dishonorably discharged American operators. Thirty armed shooters, two armored BTRs, and a satellite link that jams all civilian communications within a five-mile radius."
"We have twenty-five JSOC Tier One operators landing at Ramstein right now," Nathan said, checking his watch. "I can have them in Bavaria by zero-three-hundred."
"If you bring a full JSOC troop into Bavaria, the German Federal Police will intercept your transport before you cross the Danube," Arthur pointed out. "Sterling has friends in the Federal Chancellery. The moment twenty-five American commandos move armed through civilian corridors, it becomes an international diplomatic crisis, the convoy scatters, and the core vanishes."
"Then we don't bring twenty-five," I said, looking between my father and my cousin. "We use a four-man snatch team. Nathan, myself, Arthur, and Reyes. We trigger an electronic kill-switch on the convoy's lead transport using the legacy override code from the Wiesbaden server."
Nathan stared at me. "Claire, you're the intelligence director. You belong in the tactical command center, not in the snow with a carbine."
"I spent five years listening to Richard Bradley tell me that women belong behind desks rubber-stamping operational theft," I said coldly. "I'm not sitting in a van while the men who murdered my family's life drive three hundred kilos of uranium out of Europe."
Arthur looked at me for a long moment. Then, a slow, fierce pride broke across his weathered face. "She's right, Nathan. If we use the Wiesbaden override, we can lock the convoy's electronic transmissions for exactly ninety seconds. That's our window to disable the security detail, breach the transport, and secure the manifests."
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"And Sterling?" Nathan asked.
"Sterling will be waiting at an airfield in Linz, Austria, expecting his private Gulfstream to take him and the payment out of jurisdiction," Arthur said, chambering a round into a suppressed HK416 rifle and handing it to me. "Let's make sure he meets an old friend instead."
