Hewlett looked up from the screen, and made certain to directly meet the Chairman’s gaze before adding, “Since St. Louis and Memphis are at the extreme edges of the fallout envelope, I believe the number of immediate fatalities can be kept below five thousand, with long-term radiation exposure limited to the towns of Poplar Bluff, Sikeston, Paducah, Bowling Green, and Memphis.”
“That’s a hell of a price to pay for one man,” commented the Chairman.
“But at the moment, we have no other options. If we don’t get back on schedule, this entire operation is threatened, and until we get positive confirmation that Chapman’s dead, we need this strike to be one hundred percent certain. Now, what’s the word from FEMA?”
“Sir, the Director is prepared to issue an immediate press release blaming the blast on an explosion at an experimental nuclear reactor site located at a heretofore-top-secret Department of Energy research facility buried beneath the Mark Twain National Forest. The Secretary of Energy will support this claim, and will issue her own press release shortly after General Clayton at NORAD announces news of the test of a high-altitude. Star Warstype antimissile weapon off the coast of Georgia and the subsequent crash of Iron Man One. He’ll note that all other details must, of course, remain classified.”
“To think that such a tragic accident will be responsible for taking the life of that esteemed hero of the Cold War, General Lowell Spencer,” mused the Chairman, whose further comments were cut short by an unexpected knock on the conference room door.
Brittany poked her head inside and nervously cleared her throat.
“Excuse me, sir,” she said before entering the room.
“What the hell do you want. Commander?” barked the Chairman.
“Can’t you see that we’re up to our necks with work in here?”
“That’s just it, sir,” returned Brittany, holding a legal pad and a pair of pens in her hand.
“I understand that we’re about to transmit an EAM, and as part of the SIOP team, I was wondering what I can do to assist you.”
The Chairman shook his head in disgust.
“Your services aren’t needed at the moment. Commander. So get out of here, and shut that door behind you.”
Brittany had already noted that Hewlett’s laptop was activated, though from this distance she was unable to get a clear look at the flickering screen. Well aware of the steeply canted deck, and determined to secure a closer look at the monitor’s contents, she “accidentally” dropped her pens. As calculated, they rolled down the slick linoleum floor, passing beneath both the Chairman’s and Hewlett’s outstretched feet.
Both of them bent over to retrieve the fallen writing instruments, giving Brittany the opportunity to take several quick steps forward and hurriedly scan the screen. She was able to make out only the two words emblazoned in crimson type at the head of the page before Hewlett emerged with her pens. Stunned by that which she had seen, she mumbled apologies, excused herself, and headed at once to Red’s console in Operations.
Brittany’s startling findings in the conference room gave Red no choice but to risk contacting General Spencer. She accessed a Milstar relay satellite to reach Iron Man One as it was flying over the Atlantic, some two hundred and fifty miles off the coast of southern Georgia.
As it turned out. Spencer was anxiously awaiting her call, and Red was able to confidently relate the strange facts regarding Coach’s detention, and the alarming nature of the EAM that Nightwatch was preparing to send. Spencer was particularly interested in the EAM’s contents, and one mention by Red that it concerned Yankee Hotel, and was about to be transmitted to the U.S.S. Rhode Island, was enough to cause the General to ask for additional details.
Red’s reply was cut short by the hard barrel of a pistol shoved painfully into the back of her ribs. At the same time, the line with TACAMO went dead, and Red anticipated the worst, when Hewlett’s gravelly voice urgently whispered into her ear.
“Sergeant, I think you know what this is all about. So either you can come with me quietly and no one else has to see this pistol, or you can resist and be shot. The choice is yours, ma’am, but please make it quickly.”
Chapter 46
General Lowell Spencer sat dumbfounded before his console in the battle-staff compartment, the abbreviated Milstar transmission from Nightwatch still ringing in his ears. Though he never thought he’d be relying on an unknown master sergeant to deliver a strategic briefing of this importance, this entire situation was unprecedented. It was also extremely disturbing, and Spencer couldn’t help but feel that it had an almost surreal quality to it. Yet reality struck home when the voice of the AGO sounded from his headphones.
“General, I’ve just monitored a rather puzzling VLF transmission from the U.S.S. Rhode Island, acknowledging the receipt of a properly formatted EAM. Since it didn’t originate from us, and because we’re the only TACAMO presently working the Atlantic, it must have come from Nightwatch.”
Spencer ingested this news and fought the impulse to pound his fist into the overhead console. As shocking as it might appear, the threatened coup that he had been warned about appeared to be yet one step closer to fruition. It was completely against NCA protocol for Nightwatch to instigate an EAM without first informing either Iron Man One or the NMCC. And Spencer was beginning to wonder if Trent Warner was still in control of his faculties.
Once more his headphones activated, this time with the voice of their pilot.
“We have some company headed our way. General.
Radar shows a pair of highperformance jet fighters approaching our sector. They appear to be Tomcats, range a hundred miles and rapidly closing.”
Spencer’s stomach tightened; he was well aware that he knew nothing about any such fighter escort. Was it just a routine intercept by a pair of bored jet jockeys, or could there be a nefarious reason for their sudden presence, with Warner the one responsible?
He was unable to forget that the airspace directly above them was one of the supposed targets of attack scenario Yankee Hotel.
Ever fearful that the F-14s had been sent in by the coup supporters to ensure that Iron Man One wouldn’t interfere with the launch by challenging the EAM, Spencer knew that he’d have to act quickly.
“Flight, prepare for an immediate wire-out,” he commanded into his chin mike.
It didn’t take long for Iron Man One to begin a tight racetrack orbit. While the VLF antenna was deployed from the tail of the plane and the amplifiers powered up, he mentally formulated the EAM that he planned to send personally.
Standard nuclear-alert protocol would make it a waste of time to attempt contacting the U.S.S. Rhode Island. Captain Lockwood and his crew had been trained to ignore any alternative flash traffic not originating from the EAM’s original source — in this instance, Nightwatch.
He thus had no choice but to direct his warning to Captain Benjamin Kram aboard the USS. James K. Polk. Spencer would have to relay, in no uncertain terms, the shocking details behind Yankee Hotel, and then pray that Kram would believe him and move in to intercede.
The Folk’s SEAL team would have to be relied upon to use their mini-sub to board the Rhode Island, preferably while the Trident remained on the floor of the continental shelf, completing repairs. It would then be up to these SEALs to convince Lockwood that the EAM from Nightwatch was unauthorized, and that their missiles were in fact targeted on their own homeland.
There were ever so many additional details that remained to be worked out, and Spencer was spurred into action when the flight technician informed him that the power amplifier was up full.