“He was here?” Jake asked, an obvious edge to his voice. “You sure it was him?”
“Oh yes, sir. It was him. I verified his ID through the system.”
Jake looked at the time stamp on the order. “Teague’s been gone for five hours!”
He pulled his phone and dialed Major Stafford.
“It’s Agent Jake Hunter. Lock down Fort Hood right now. Nuclear security protocol.”
I wondered why General Teague didn’t run when the warhead disappeared. He even stayed after he must have known Major Stafford was on to him. Add to that the billion dollars… “Yes,” Jake said. “Teague didn’t run when he had the chance, and a billion is too much cash for one warhead. He’s after another nuclear bomb, and my guess is it’s a big one, so lock everything down. And don’t take any orders from Secretary of Defense Cooper. That’s who sprang Teague. We’re on our way.”
Honi pulled her phone and called Brett at the NSA. “I need Secretary of Defense Cooper and General Teague at Fort Hood added to the new project.”
Major Stafford had made arrangements for the FBI jet to land at Fort Hood. The sun had set and darkness was closing in as the jet taxied over to a hanger. Major Stafford was waiting.
“Briggs has an APB out on the Secretary,” Jake said. “Nobody’s seen him since nine this morning.”
“No sign of Teague, either,” Stafford replied.
“Everything locked down and secure?”
“I don’t know. On the surface the base is on full security alert and everything is quiet. But there are a lot of soldiers here who are still loyal to General Teague. The fact that Teague hasn’t been located makes me nervous. It leaves me thinking it’s too quiet.”
“Where’s your most critical area?”
“NWSB, the Nuclear Weapons Service Building. Beyond that is the bunker farm where individual weapons are stored. The storage bunkers are designed to direct the blast up and we store only one weapon per bunker. That way, if one weapon somehow detonates, it doesn’t set off all of the others.”
“That’s not a reassuring thought.”
“Well, for people on the base it wouldn’t matter. No one would live long enough to realize something had gone wrong. You’d have to live in Austin or Waco to survive long enough to recognize something went to hell here at Fort Hood.”
“Wonderful,” Honi said.
“Then we start at the NWSB,” Jake said. “What’s the check-in procedure?”
“Each security team checks in by radio every fifteen minutes on a rotating one-minute interval. Team one is inside the NWSB, team two is on perimeter guard around the NWSB, team three is roving inside the bunker farm, teams four and five have the bunker farm perimeter.”
“And the other teams?”
“Secure the gates and the airfield.”
Jake looked over at the soldiers with M-16 rifles watching the FBI jet. They were there, alright, reporting in as scheduled. Jake couldn’t tell to whom they were loyal by looking at them. No one could. That was one issue that may get sorted out during the night, he thought. But at what level of risk?
Stafford, Jake and Honi climbed into a HUMVEE and the driver whisked them off toward the NWSB. The driver slowed and stopped at the perimeter check point.
“Any activity?” Stafford asked.
“No, sir. No one in or out since lockdown.”
“Have you seen or heard from General Teague?” Jake asked.
“No, sir.”
“Very well,” Stafford said. “Carry on.”
“Yes, sir,” the guard said as he saluted.
They continued on to the NWSB and pulled in front of the steel building’s main roller door. The guard approached, rifle at the ready.
“I’m Major Stafford. We need to inspect this building.”
“I received notice over the radio,” the guard said. “I just need to check IDs, sir.”
Stafford, Jake and Honi got out of the HUMVEE and presented their ID packs. The guard looked them over, handed them back, and opened the walk-in door.
The lights were on. Everything was clean and orderly. Jake and Honi looked at the four white, long bomb-shaped weapons with pointed, cone-shaped noses and four fins at their tail ends.
“Are those…?” Jake asked.
“B83 nuclear bombs,” Stafford replied.
“I thought they’d be bigger,” Honi said, “based on some of the photos I’ve seen.”
“The older devices used to be a lot bigger,” Stafford replied. “These are much more efficient. The older, bigger bombs have all been disassembled by the SALT I, SALT II and START treaties between the United States and Russia, eliminating a majority of the nuclear arsenals in both countries.”
“How big is this one?” Jake asked.
“The B83’s are twelve feet long, eighteen inches in diameter and weigh 2,408 pounds.”
“I mean…”
“Yield?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s the thing. They’re variable. You can program in how big you want the detonation to be.”
“Top end?”
“One point two megatons. It’s a two-staged thermonuclear device.”
“A hydrogen bomb?”
“Yes.”
“Is it okay to touch it?”
An army Captain stepped forward. “Sure. It’s completely safe. In fact, the B83 is designed as a bunker-buster. It can be dropped at Mach 2 and penetrate through reinforced concrete and still not go off until the control system tells it to detonate.”
Jake ran his hand over the smooth white surface. The bomb rested on a wheeled carriage so it could be easily moved from one place to another. He looked at the direction the wheels were pointed and shoved the bomb in the direction of the wheels. He glanced at Honi. She had a severe grimace on her face. Stafford was smiling. The bomb moved about an inch.
“Twenty four hundred pounds?” Jake asked.
“Twenty four hundred and eight,” Stafford replied.
Jake shoved the remaining three bombs. Each one moved about an inch.
“And the bunker farm?”
“Past the building,” the Captain replied. “That way.” He pointed toward the back of the building.
“Let’s go. I want to check every one of them.”
Stafford raised his eyebrows. “There’re 147 bunkers back there.”
“Then we should get started.”
The army Captain handed the large ring of keys to Stafford. “Have fun, sir. You should finish sometime tomorrow afternoon.”
“Thanks,” Stafford replied dryly.
They climbed back into the HUMVEE and headed out back. The bunker farm was surrounded by twin twelve-foot-high fences topped with double rows of razor wire. After having their IDs checked one more time, they passed through the only set of gates. Roving teams of K-9 units patrolled between the two fences. The bunkers were set down into the ground and covered with concrete and dirt. The front of each bunker consisted of a concrete wall with twin heavy steel doors in the center. Each bunker was 500 yards from its neighbor.
“If someone has been secretly working inside one or more of these bunkers, it would probably be as far out of sight as they could get,” Jake said. “So that’s where we start.”
The driver took them to the far edge of the bunkers. The heavens above were black with clear skies and twinkling stars. Just like sailing at night on the ocean, Jake thought. Quiet and peaceful. Three bunkers sat in a short row. The rest were in a twelve-by-twelve grid pattern. Stafford sorted through the keys and unlocked the doors. Jake and Honi looked through each bunker with their flashlights. Jake shoved each bomb, which moved an inch. Honi grimaced each time. Then Stafford closed and locked each door, and they drove on to the next one.
“You said there was a roving security team inside the bunker farm?” Jake asked.