"Yes, sir. The CIA and NIS have suspected for a long time that there was a mole somewhere in our military, in the Navy more specifically. What better time for him to surface?"
Admiral Maxwell pushed his chair back then got up and walked toward Grant. Even though he was a few inches shorter than the younger officer, his very presence could be intimidating, with eight rows of ribbons, piercing brown eyes, and a commanding attitude. That is, intimidating to anyone else but Grant, who was always respectful, but never intimidated. Maxwell rested his hands on his hips, rocking back and forth on his heels, staring down at his highly polished black Navy shoes, and mulling over what had just been put on the table. Finally looking up at Grant through narrowed eyes, he asked, "Commander Stevens, do you have any opinion as to when they'll try to carry this out?"
Grant paused a moment before responding. "I suspect the time is getting closer, Admiral, especially with the reports and photos showing the troops and missiles in the positions they're in. There's not much left for them to do." He slapped the back of his hand into his palm. "Look, they made their threats against South Korea knowing we'd send a fleet to protect it. They counted on us sending the Bronson. They've had a little more than three months to finalize their plans, and they got their troops and artillery into position faster than hell." The right side of his mouth curved up. "But I guess they didn't count on a SEAL team taking a sneaky peak, Admiral."
Maxwell nodded approvingly, a hint of a smile appearing. "I have another question, Commander. Wouldn't it be prudent for us to confront them now, tell them about the exercise rounds, in other words, call their bluff?"
Grant shook his head. "The exercise rounds only affect the mortars, sir, not the missiles, and they've got a helluva lot of troops out there."
Maxwell glanced at the SecDef then back at Grant. "And… ?"
"While you were negotiating, you could be giving them the time they needed to go for the Bronson. I believe we need to move forward and prevent it from happening, and hopefully, uncover the mole." Maxwell detected the concern showing in Grant's eyes. "I know that's an extreme risk, Admiral, but one I feel we've got to consider taking. And getting back to your earlier question, sir, as far as how they plan on carrying it out, I don't know, sir, at least… not yet. But I do have an idea on how we can find out, sir," he said with a broad grin.
Maxwell saw the look, the excitement in the eyes of Grant Stevens, and he smiled inwardly, wishing he still possessed that same enthusiasm. He shook his head and smiled, saying over his shoulder as he went back to his chair, "Somehow, I thought you might, Commander. I thought you just might."
Chapter Three
The First National Bank of Kodiak had been erected on the corner of Birch Avenue and Mill Bay Road during the latter half of 1972. The two-story building drew few curiosity seekers during the nine months of construction. After all, it was just another bank, the second one in town. For the grand opening the amiable employees handed out free ball-point pens and calendars with a colored photograph of the bank displayed across the top half. A massive, high-luster steel door to the vault was kept open the first two days, prospective customers allowed to see into the vault itself. Beyond the main door was a second door made up of 3–1/2" diameter steel bars, the bars acting as another security feature. Most impressive for such a small town bank, the residents remarked.
Adjacent to the rear of the bank, facing Baranof Street, were two shops, one sold hunting and fishing supplies, and the other, dry goods. Above the shops, two small, two bedroom apartments had been built. The kitchenettes were completely stocked, living rooms and bedrooms fully furnished. Each apartment had its own access, one wooden staircase on Baranof, and one in the alleyway. The shops and apartments were designed around a steel-encased elevator shaft, built behind false walls, in between the bank and the building. A recessed roof covered the top of the building. Hidden beneath were satellite communications dishes, out of site from prying eyes.
The inhabitants of Kodiak were unaware that more than just routine activities were carried out at the First National Bank and the shops. All employees were either CIA or U.S. Navy officers, because buried four levels below the bank structure, a highly classified, sophisticated Computer Center was located in small-town Kodiak, Alaska. The center looked like something from a Star Trek episode, with its rows of computer screens blinking and scrolling unrecognizable alien language. A green, neon-like glow from the monitors filled the room and gave the operators an unearthly pallor, as the lights brightened, dimmed and flickered on their faces. Four printers, lined up on the north wall, clattered like typewriters gone berserk. Reams of paper lay in the trays behind them, with a paper shredder close by.
Every component of the Bronson's equipment, every missile, the guidance system, navigation, and radar were entirely controlled by its 'brain', the Tactical Support Computer (TSC) MK1 system. From the moment it was brought on-line, the TSC-MK1 computer had performed impeccably, pumping information to the three terminals, spewing out vital details at a moment's notice. Every movement the ship made was controlled by the TSC. Nothing escaped it. Images picked up by the ship's radar were instantly transformed on the screens at Kodiak. The very heartbeat of the Bronson was recognized, explained and detailed on computer printouts. The Center was the very 'lifeblood' of the USS Bronson. All commands were encrypted instantaneously, sent to one of two satellites, then unencrypted when picked up by the ship's computer, the same process when coming back to Kodiak. CIA Headquarters in Langley, Virginia, received enciphered, thorough reports — Command Center data, Bronson data — passed constantly, over and over. Not a command was issued of which Langley wasn't aware.
Three mini-cameras were positioned inside a protective shield running along the outside top edge of the ship's bridge. Camera 1 was aimed across the bow of the ship, Camera 2 down the port side, and Camera 3 down the starboard side, all capable of turning from 0 to 180 degrees. Cameras 2 and 3 were responsible for images off the stern. Live broadcasts were sent from the Bronson to the center. Color television monitors, three for each terminal, were individually set in built-in shelves just above eye level. Langley received simultaneous broadcasts, seeing the same picture as Kodiak.
Precautionary measures had been taken by setting up three backup sites, exact replicas of Kodiak. They were located in Scotland, Morocco, and Australia. Each site had a sector to control, allowing the Bronson a world-wide range and backups to boot.
The Computer Center was powered by its own generator, including a UPS (Uninterruptable Power Source) for 30 minutes of emergency power, giving the Kodiak site time to switch to a backup site, each of the three on standby, 24 hours a day. The room was 2,000 square feet, built on raised flooring, made up of individual panels, like three-foot square ceiling tiles, some dotted with small holes. Cold air, shooting upward through the openings, made the room a comfortable 68 degrees, which was critical to the hardware's operation.
Beneath the flooring lay a crawl space, two feet in height, running the length and width of the room. In the space was a jumble of cables, a snake pit of green, yellow, blue and red cabling wire, tagged with neatly inscribed labels. Each cable, about an inch in diameter, was composed of many smaller wires, multiple connections for each piece of computer hardware to which it was assigned. Thirty miles of cables sat beneath the floor, sending electronic pulses at half a million bytes per second, fast enough to send an entire library's data in a matter of hours.