“Yuri says it will be in the form of a fine powder in impervious plastic bags. We’ll just place them in here and set the little timed detonators. When they go off, we’ll be long gone.”

“You don’t think we have to hide the bags?”

“I don’t see why,” Curt said.

“What if someone comes in here after we leave?” Steve asked.

“Did you hear the hinges on the door when Reggy opened it?” Curt asked. “Nobody comes in here. Just to be sure we’ll disarm the smoke detector as well as turn off the fire control system.”

“That’s a good idea,” Steve said. He shrugged. “I guess it’s going to work.”

“Bet your ass it’s going to work,” Curt said. “Come on! Let’s locate a good air return on this floor and then finish our sham fire inspection. We should be getting back to the station.”

Finding an appropriate air return was easy. After leaving the machinery room, Curt had asked for the closest men’s room. While Reggy waited outside, Curt and Steve found a convenient grate that would be easily removable. They imagined the duct was a straight shot back to the smoke detector they’d just seen.

“All one of our guys has to do is pop this grate off and toss in a smoke bomb,” Curt said. “That will set off the alarm for sure.”

A half hour later Curt and Steve recrossed the plaza in front of the federal building. The sun had gone in behind a bank of clouds, and gusts of wind were buffeting the local pigeons. Curt had to keep a tight grip on his clipboard to prevent the papers from blowing off. The two men climbed into their official car that they’d parked by the curb.

Curt started the engine and pulled out into the traffic. “Have you made any more progress on our route of retreat?” he asked. The way they’d divided up the planning was for Curt to concentrate on the event itself while Steve worked on their escape.

“It’s done,” Steve said. “I’ve been on the Internet every night for hours. I’ve got safe houses arranged for us all the way to Washington State and then up into Canada if need be. Every one of the militias I’ve contacted has been more than willing to help.”

“Have they been curious about what’s going down?” Curt asked.

“That’s an understatement,” Steve said. “But I haven’t told them anything other than it’s going to be big.”

“It’s going to be like The Turner Diaries coming true,” Curt chortled. He was referring to his favorite novel, one widely circulated among the violent far right. In it the protagonist, Turner, started a general rebellion by bombing the FBI Headquarters in Washington, D.C.

Curt was feeling euphoric over his luck in having a weapon of mass destruction dropped into his lap. Now he finally had the power to strike back appropriately and dramatically at the government. Those Zionist bastards in Washington were going to learn the hard way that they shouldn’t make war on their own citizens with the FBI and the ATF a la Ruby Ridge and Waco, nor should they conspire to take away people’s cherished rights such as the right to bear arms, nor should they have backed abortion, gay rights, or affirmative action, or tolerated miscegenation. On top of all that was the illegality of the IRS and support for the United Nations. The list was almost endless.