“Let us find out,” Renard said. “I will take a handheld bridge-to-bridge radio up the conning tower, and you will take one up our forward hatch. If we can communicate, that will tell us something.”
Renard climbed to the bridge and spoke into the radio.
“I hear you loud and clear,” Marom said.
Renard’s heart sank.
“I believe I have a theory.”
He dialed up maximum power on the radio.
“Destroyer, this is Leviathan, please come in,” he said. “Destroyer, this is Leviathan, please come in.”
“Leviathan, this is the destroyer to your east. Over.”
“I had been speaking to your executive officer — your acting commanding officer — on high-frequency voice, but it’s no longer available.”
“This is the operations officer. We’ve lost all our radar systems. Even the SPY-1 system is down. We’ve also lost communications with the outside world. Hold on, the executive officer is coming.”
“Renard, this is Lieutenant Commander Robert Stephenson, acting commanding officer of the USS Bainbridge.”
“Nice to know your name.”
“The rules of communication just changed. We’ve been hit by an EMP attack.”
“Dear God. It is as I feared. How? Who?”
“Exo-atmospheric detonation.”
“That means—”
“The United States is at risk of catastrophic failure of all electronic systems. Everything that isn’t hardened or shielded by metal or water just fried.”
“Your helicopter.”
“Yes.”
“I just brought up a secure data link online and found a working frequency with fleet command. The entire northeastern seaboard is out, and it could be worse. There were fifteen ballistic missiles launched over the continental United States, and one straight up over water to the north. I could only take out twelve of the fifteen. The other three hit their targets but didn’t explode.”
“Decoys?”
“Probably. I think most of the fifteen were decoys and I took out the live ones. Looks like the solitary one was the high-altitude detonation.”
“Above the atmosphere,” Renard said. “Raining down gamma rays from the ionosphere, destroying everything electronic in its path.”
“I think it covered a big area. Depends on the nuclear yield.”
“Are you heading back to port?”
“I recommend that you do,” Stephenson said. “But not me. I’ve got other plans.
“Before you go,” Renard said. “Can we arrange for me to have the survivors? You could likely do without the passengers, and I would like my crew back.”
“Done.”
“Can you tell me where you are going?”
“I’m bringing back my systems with spare parts and going hunting,” Stephenson said. “I have a score to settle with a launch vessel to the north that just pissed me off.”
CHAPTER 23
Six months later, Jake scratched his neck where his overgrown hair tickled it as a CIA intern escorted him deep into the facility at Langley. A door opened, and he saw a thin smile spread across the fair-skinned face of CIA officer, Olivia McDonald. A dark suit muted her athletic curves, and she tied her hair in a long braid.
She invited him into a room that smelled stale and reflected bright, sterile lighting. As Olivia closed the door with a click, Jake glanced at absorbent, egg carton foam-like walls.
Olivia extended her hand. He accepted.
“Not even a hug?” he asked.
“I don’t think we should. Maybe after some time.”
“You dating anyone?”
“Yeah. A naval intelligence officer. He’s a good man. You’d like him.”
He expected a different answer.
“Even in this mess?”
“Things are starting to clear up. The riots are over, and power’s back in most major cities.”
“The news has been constant but of questionable reliability in France.”
“It’s been of questionable reliability here, too. Eastern Canada through Maryland was a war zone, and military and police forces barely kept the peace. If this attack had reached beyond the coastal states, we might be living in anarchy.”
“Was that the intent of the other fifteen missiles?”
“Two of them. At least that’s what we think their intent was, based upon their flight paths. They were going to detonate over Kansas and Kentucky and probably take out most if not all of the country’s electronic systems.”
“That was close,” Jake said. “Imagine if they had access to more nuclear warheads. Then the other thirteen wouldn’t have been decoys.”
“You saved the country when you saved the Bainbridge.”
Jake sighed.
“But I can’t go home. I’m supposed to be lying at the bottom of the ocean on a Trident missile submarine. I’ll pay for that the rest of my life, won’t I?”
“Time heals everything, but you can’t go back yet.”
“Can I at least see my brother?”
She led him through the door into the larger room where he had last seen Nick Slate. Wearing loose fitting garments of hemp sat his older sibling
“Nick!”
Jake ran to him and embraced him.
“Wow, Jake, it’s great to see you. You seem a lot happier than the last time we met.”
“I think I appreciate family better. Too bad Joey couldn’t make it.”
“Give him time. He’ll come around.”
Jake snorted.
“You’re always the optimist,” he said, “except with your omen of death. You had me scared out there.”
Jake felt Nick clasp his palms over his hand as he bowed his head.
“Again, Nick?”
“Quiet, please,” Nick said.
After several moments, Nick raised his gaze.
“You’re still in danger,” he said.
“What?” Jake asked. “After what I’ve been through?”
“No, it’s not that. It never was. There was too much in your destiny that was screening me from the truth, but I see it now. The death I saw was a risk to a friend. You’re in danger of losing a friend.”
Jake yanked his hand back.
“I hate when you do this.”
“It’s what I do.”
“Who is it then?”
“Pierre.”
Jake called his friend, Grant Mercer.
“Hey buddy,” Jake said. “Where are you?”
“Chicago,” Mercer said. “Back home, so to speak.”
“Uh, what about the security deposit you laid down on that submarine I wrecked?”
“Rickets helped me get that back. After the full spectrum of this attack became clear, he was able to reimburse me from legit defense funds. Plus, I’m making a chunk on biodiesel sales from my South American interests to people in need in America. The crisis turned out to be an opportunity for me.”
“That’s a real relief.”
“After what you did, you didn’t have to worry about it. Hey, are you coming my way any time soon? I’d love to see you.”
“I’m not sure what the CIA rules are on that,” Jake said. “I’ll have to check. They’re trusting me to run around on my own now, with my alias, but I have to check in like I’m on parole. We’ll work something out, even if you have to meet me in France.”
“You’re sure you want to do this?” Jake asked.
“Indeed,” Renard said. “Are you?”
“No. But if you will, I will.”
“Very well, then. Shall we?”
Deep in an underground floor of a federal building, a guard escorted him and Renard down a long corridor of cells holding federal prisoners behind clear plastic walls.
Toward the end of the hallway, the guard stopped.
“This is the one you want. Just walk back to the guard post when you’re done with him. There aren’t any special rules beyond the ones you’ve been given.”