Fleet Admiral Mack continued to address the men and women seated in the Clinton Room. “The Enterprise and the George Washington are three days from the Port of Gibraltar awaiting your orders, Mr. President.”
“Thank you, Admiral.” President Powers had ordered the two aircraft carriers and their support vessels to remain on station. They had been situated in the middle of the Atlantic for eighteen hours. President Powers had given the order so he could convene this meeting.
The president looked to his right and addressed the Director of the Central Intelligence Agency. “Roberto, what can we expect once we reenter the Mediterranean?”
The grumpy old man in the wheelchair scowled at hearing his first name. Director Jimenez did not like the president; he never had and never would. He did not appreciate the president’s attempts at being on a first name basis with him. His efforts were neither endearing nor welcome. He tolerated the president because he liked the man’s politics. He just didn’t like him on a personal level. He found the man arrogant and conceited, traits he found to be true in most military officers.
The seventy-two year old had lost the use of his legs in his battle with multiple sclerosis. He had adjusted to life in a wheelchair with some reluctance. He spent many years walking with a cane; however, after suffering several falls and constant badgering from his wife, he finally relented. He cleared his throat, took a deep breath and began.
“Thank you, Mr. President. Based on our latest intelligence, we know for certain that the Empire has three remaining nuclear devices holding the same yield as the one detonated outside of Tel-Aviv.”
“How close are we to recovering the three devices?” the president asked.
Roberto paused, thought for a second, looked up at the ceiling and asked, “Mr. President, may I?”
“Yes, of course. Computer, establish a secure connection with the CIA and grant Director Jimenez full access.”
At the request of the president, Howard Beck had installed the A.I. in his office and granted clearance to only the president. The A.I. would respond to the White House staff and visitors but only on a limited basis, essentially serving two functions. First, it acted as a very polite host, opening doors and answering and placing phone calls. Second, the A.I. would perform internet searches, essentially making the multi-billion dollar computer the world’s most expensive desktop. Beck also established a secure, one way link with the A.I.s at the Department of Defense and the CIA. President Powers didn’t trust Director Jimenez as far as he could throw him, wheelchair included. He knew the old spook couldn’t resist the temptation to tap into the White House A.I. so he could spy on the Oval Office. He was sure the crusty old bastard had tried to do so many, many times.
Roberto was certain that Howard Beck could control the A.I. he personally installed in the White House. He guessed that the crazy billionaire had been listening to the very conversation in which he was partaking. Not long after the installation of the smooth talking female computer, he insisted that the president have his best people analyze the system to make sure it could not be controlled from the Rocky Mountains. The president saw this as an opportunity to show the American people that his trusted friend had not betrayed their friendship and lied to him. He immediately dared the top spy to do his worst. After six weeks, the Director announced in a press conference that he could say with total certainty that the White House A.I. could only be controlled by whomever was sitting in the Oval Office. Jimenez still didn’t trust Howard Beck as far he could throw the odd man, fancy computers and all.
The smooth, female voice of the White House A.I. responded to the president. “Yes, Mr. President. Please standby.” A few seconds elapsed. “Link established. Good morning, Director Jimenez.”
Director Jimenez did not return the greeting. He hated computers, especially this one. The fact that the president gave his A.I. a female voice was a source of many jokes in the entertainment world. His favorite was a skit on Saturday Night Live that depicted the president falling in love with his computer. In the skit they even gave the computer the name “Monica,” referring to the scandal involving President Clinton and his former intern. President Clinton was on the Supreme Court at the time and had made a controversial ruling. Something about the scandal, Roberto couldn’t recall the details, had some connection to the name Monica and the old scandal was dusted off to make the circuit on the late night TV talk shows.
Years ago when the computers at his home and office had been upgraded to interact with him vocally, Roberto finally felt like the technology was simple enough for him to use.
“Computer, display the latest intelligence on the Great Empire of Iran.”
The wall on the other side of the room sprang to life; everyone shifted in their seats to see the large, detailed map of the Iranian Theater, upon which every military asset, both friendly and enemy alike, could be seen.
The Director continued. “As you can see, the Iranians have completed construction on their fifth nuclear bunker deep in the mountains of Afghanistan.”
After seizing control of Iraq, the Iranians immediately used their newfound wealth to construct an impenetrable bunker four hundred feet underground. The Americans had finally destroyed the ones on their home soil in 2013, and the Iranians were desperate to begin construction on a new one. Nothing in the world could penetrate it, including the most powerful bunker buster ever built. As they continued to control more and more oil fields, the Iranians built three identical bunkers and had completed construction of a fifth one that made the first four look like underground parking garages.
The Director began to hack and cough. He reached for the glass of water in front of him and drank. Once he was confident the coughing fit was over, he continued in a raspy voice. “With construction of the fifth bunker complete, the Empire has the capability of developing a nuclear device nearly triple the current yield of their warheads.”
Everyone in the room immediately looked to each other in disbelief. The first to speak was the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.
“What? Why the hell didn’t we take out the facility when we had the chance?” Carl Moody regretted the question the instant it left his mouth. He already knew the answer, as did everyone in the room. The Chairman was afraid to speak another word for quite some time in fear of embarrassing himself further.
Reining in as much contempt and sarcasm as he could, Director Jimenez answered the question. “Because, General, it can’t be done. The first bunker they built is the weakest one of the five, and we have yet to so much as scratch it.”
The Director was indeed correct. The European Army had made several attempts to destroy it in the early stages of the war and never came close. They had even sent a team of undercover spies to try to infiltrate the facility to destroy it from the inside. Captured, the team of spies was brutally tortured. Their deaths were broadcast across the Internet.
The president, playing referee and getting back on point, continued. “Roberto, going back to my original question about the three warheads they now possess…”
The Director, again irritated with the use of his first name, smiled at the president, “Yes, Mr. President?”
“What is the possibility that the Iranians would break the three warheads down and build one really big device?”