we may be wrong.” Draining the cup, the President placed it on the table. He stared at it for a minute, his thoughts private.
“Hal, we’re completely in the dark on this. An unknown enemy, with an unknown weapon and unknown goal. Did they try to destroy the Unites States and fail? Is this the opening round in a major conflict, or something else entirely?”
“What’s been done already, sir?”
“Every tactical nuke is being taken apart while it is being moved far away from civilian population centers,” the President declared. “Plus, until further notice, the nation will remain at DefCon Five, full war status. All military leaves have been cancelled, troops are arming, the Umbrella of fighter planes is out to maximum range and our entire stockpile of nonnuclear weapons is being prepared.”
“How long until every nuke is disarmed?” Brognola asked, leaning forward in his chair.
The President gave the man a hard look. “Using every available technician…sixteen days.”
“Sixteen!”
“Best we can do. On top of everything else, we’re also moving the bombs to secret locations, so the enemy can’t find them.”
“Unless they can sweep the entire continent with this triggering device.”
“Agreed. In that case, we’ve already lost, and the death toll will be in the millions, the hundreds of millions if they get even the slightest bit lucky and set off a couple of plutonium bombs.”
Brognola grunted at that. Too true. A radioactive death cloud would sweep across the globe, killing everybody. That wouldn’t happen unless the enemy was suicidal or totally insane. Neither possibility was completely out of the question.
“Have there been demands from anybody? Hamas, al Qaeda, Iraq, China?”
Frowning deeply, the President said, “Thankfully not yet, and we can’t make any inquires. That would only demonstrate that we have no idea who is behind all of this. And as long as the enemy is not sure of exactly what we know, they’ll be cautious. Afraid of our direct military retaliation. Even without nuclear weapons, America has a tremendous military. But if the enemy discovers the truth…”
The President didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t have to. Brognola understood. Then the enemy would be free to do whatever it wanted. The only thing holding the terrorist states in check had always been the threat of nuclear strikes from the U.S. If the news of the covert disarmament was released, an incalculable wave of terrorist strikes would sweep the free world like a plague.
“Even worse,” the President continued. “If somebody, anybody, does make a demand, then we would have no choice but to comply. This isn’t a matter of making policy, or standing tall, but outright survival. We’re virtually helpless for sixteen days.”
“Even less if the enemy demands access to our Keyhole and Watchdog satellites,” Brognola added grimly, “then they could monitor our nukes, and stop them being moved or disarmed.”
“Sadly, yes.”
“Plus, any demands we receive may not even be the people behind the attacks,” the big Fed noted pragmatically. “It could simply be some opportunist group claiming the credit and trying to sneak one past us. Nuke Israel, or a million Americans die. Release every terrorist held in American prisons, hell’s bells, release everybody in all of our prisons. Or else.”
“Or else,” the President agreed solemnly.
“What do you want us to do, sir?” Brognola asked, standing.
“Find them,” the President said bluntly. “Find them and kill them and smash their damn machine, whatever it is.”
“You don’t want it recovered?”
“Hell no, it’s too damn dangerous. Smash it to pieces and burn any records, blueprints, schematics, whatever you find.”
“Done,” the Justice man stated, extending a hand. When the politician first took office, he had used euphemisms like “terminate with extreme prejudice,” or “permanently eradicate.” But that stopped. Troops had no confidence in a leader who couldn’t give a direct order. There were no euphemisms used in the middle of a firefight. A soldier killed the enemy. Period. End of discussion.
“Alert,” the communications officer announced, looking up from a laptop. “Message from PACOM for you, sir. Admiral Fallon at Camp Smith reports the nuclear destruction of the USS Persing missile frigate in the north Pacific Ocean. No survivors. The cause seems to be a tactical nuclear explosion. Navy Special Intelligence and the NSA are analyzing the Watchdog photographs for known radiation signatures.”
“Understood,” the President said. “Keep me informed of any further developments.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Better move fast, old friend,” the President said. “The numbers are falling and time is against us.”
Nodding in agreement, Brognola turned and headed for the door. America had the most powerful army in the world, along with a host of covert agencies, but to use any of them could reveal a fatal weakness and cause untold deaths.
Which left the deadly matter entirely in the hands of Stony Man Farm.
CHAPTER TWO
Yig-Ta Valley, China
Reaching the middle of the lake, the old man in the wooden boat back-rowed a little until the forward momentum was canceled and the boat was relatively still, rocking slightly in the gentle chop.
Whistling happily to himself, he opened a plastic box and carefully pulled out a large fishing net. It was discolored in several areas from numerous repairs done over the years with whatever was available, but the net was still strong and highly serviceable in his capable hands.
Shaking the net a few times to straighten out the folds and to warm up the muscles in his skinny arms, the fisherman then twisted sharply at the hip and the net flew out to land in the water with barely a splash to announce its arrival.
The small lead weights woven along the edge of the net dragged it down swiftly, and the man promptly began to haul the net up again, his fingers expertly testing for any additional weight that meant a catch.
But the net was empty, so he cast again. Fishing was more of an art than anything else, and a man needed patience almost as much as a net. This time, the net held a dozen yellow fin trout. Happily, he emptied the net into the empty plastic box and cast once more. It was a long time ago, but he vaguely remembered when the lake had been a peaceful fishing village. However, a few years ago the Communists had sent in armed troops to throw everybody out of their ancestral shacks, and then had an army of workers build the massive dam. Now he came here to fish and recall better times. Somehow, the trout he caught always brought back memories of his idyllic youth. Silly, but true.
From the woods surrounding the lake there came a snap of a breaking tree branch, and the old man froze motionless, nervously glancing around, his heart pounding. Thankfully there was nobody in sight. Fishing on the government lake was strictly forbidden for some reason. It had taken a thousand men five years to build the huge concrete dam that blocked off the Wei River, creating the huge artificial
