Free The Ragnarok Conspiracy by Erec Stebbins Page A

didn't use airplanes this time, that's for sure,” said Miller.
    Cohen nodded. “This was a surgical strike, John. Whoever did this managed to obliterate an entire building in midtown Manhattan without much collateral damage. Unless they got supremely lucky, we're looking at some very highly skilled munitions work.”
    â€œI guess they've been busy in those caves all these years,” said Savas, turning toward the screen. “Manuel, what do we have in terms of munitions analysis?”
    â€œAh, John, that isn't exactly anything I know much about or that can be done easily with software. We'll need to farm this out to forensics.”
    â€œYeah, figured. But that means we're waiting as usual to sift through the aftermath. This is in real-time, folks. OK, what else can we pull out of this?”
    â€œCNN, Fearless Leader,” said Lightfoote.
    Her terminal cut to a live broadcast from the news organization. A reporter stood before a mob of people kept at a distance by police and fire department personnel, who themselves were partially obscured by pouring smoke. The reporter's words were barely audible over the sound of sirens and voices.
    â€œâ€¦about half an hour ago, Brian. This is as close as our crew was able to get. As you can see, there is simply an incredible amount of smoke, and the building lies in complete ruins. Onlookers report an enormous explosion, or series of explosions. One elderly woman said the ground shook and she nearly fell.”
    â€œDoesn't look like Second Avenue to me…” started King.
    â€œIt's not,” said Savas. “It's not even New York. Go to full screen, Rebecca.”
    The image grew to fill the entire projection screen. People were running in all directions while the reporter continued speaking. Savas grabbed a chair, flipped it around so that its back faced him, and sat down as he listened to the footage. His hands gripped the chair back tightly.
    â€œI'm sorry, Brian, it's just chaos here; I can't hear you. Let me repeat, there has been a major explosion at the Saudi Arabian Embassy here in Washington, DC. None of us can get close enough to see what's going on, but from what we can see, it seems that the embassy has been severely damaged…of considerable power.…Police and fire crews…uncertain…injuries…” The transmission was breaking up slightly. King used this moment to speak.
    â€œJohn, I've got this on the SAT.”
    â€œPut it up.”
    The green-colored image occluded a portion of the news feed. Next to it, King superimposed a photograph of the Saudi Embassy from space. In the false-color image that cut through the smoke and clouds, the results of the explosion were obvious to all.
    â€œMy God , the whole thing's gone,” said Rideout. “Just like here. This is like some 9/11 replay. They're hitting us in New York and Washington at the same time.”
    Rideout's words were like blows to the stomach. Savas felt himself become unhinged in time. Towers like sand crumbling in the wind. Falling, falling slowly, a million tons of concrete and metal…and flesh and bone. Police beneath, young officers, daughters…sons. Beneath a mountain falling…
    Cohen's voice became a lifeline.
    â€œJohn, you're not going to believe this.”
    Savas's eyes, unfocused and in another time, turned toward her and became completely alert. She was holding a cell phone.
    â€œOne of the agents guarding the Sheikh is on the phone. They lost him. Two of them are down. Somebody took them out, and the Sheikh bolted. Our man is wounded. He doesn't know if the Sheikh is alive or dead.”

The group sat still in the dim lighting and bright screens of the Intel 1 crisis center, listening silently to a cell phone message play over the speaker in the room. They heard a strained voice, winded, the man obviously hurt and struggling to speak.
    â€œThey knew we were there,” he panted. “Shots