“Can you keep this view and start the file from the beginning?”
Stafford restarted the image. Five seconds later Honi said, “Run it again.”
He typed in the commands and the image started again.
“Freeze it right there.”
He froze the motion on the image.
“There, on the far right of the screen. What is that?”
“It could be a third helicopter. It’s moving too fast to be on the ground. It’s on the screen for only a few seconds and then it’s out of range.”
Honi pulled her phone and dialed. “Deputy Director Ellington? It’s Honi. Can you contact the NRO and see if they have IR satellite coverage they can send us?” She gave him the GPS coordinates and the time frame. “Thanks.”
Stafford was disconnecting his own phone call. “Radar at the Fort Hood Airfield didn’t record anything. If it’s a helicopter, it was tree-hopping.”
Honi’s phone rang. “Badger.” She listened. “Thank you, sir.” She disconnected. “National Reconnaissance Office file on its way to your secure link.”
Stafford accessed the file and the image appeared on the screen. “Here we are at bunker 127. And here we are, on the way to the northwest gate.” Stafford watched the time stamp. “I made the call about here.” Thirty seconds later the first faint heat signature appeared. “There’s the first Black Hawk, engine spinning up.” A second faint image appeared close to the first. “There’s the second Black Hawk.” The images grew brighter as the engine heat increased.
“Over here,” Honi said. A third image, away from the airfield, appeared and brightened.
Stafford looked at the image closely. “It’s a third Black Hawk.”
“Could it lift the guts to a B83?” Jake asked.
“Yep, no problem.”
“So if they had the bomb for a half hour or more, why did they wait so long to take off?”
“Helicopters are loud. They make a very recognizable sound when they warm up and take off. Teague must have known we would find the bodies and the empty bomb casing. It was just a matter of time. So he planned this little diversion on the same escape route he used with the first warhead, and I fell for it.”
“We all did,” Honi said.
“He knew we would use a team of Black Hawks to track down the truck, so he waited. No one would notice the noise from a third helicopter taking off at the same time. He had to figure it would be night when we found a bomb missing.”
“So where did it go?” Jake asked.
They turned back to the IR satellite display and followed the heat signature due east, off the base and over to a bright string of lights, running north and south, where it merged with the other heat signatures.
“They turned north over the I-35 corridor and slowed down. The helicopter just blends into the heat sources on the highway,” Stafford said. He picked up the phone and dialed. “I want those two F-16s to swing east to the I-35 corridor and then north toward Fort Worth, radar sweep on everything in the air.”
They watched until the IR satellite moved out of range and they lost the helicopter somewhere south of Fort Worth. Stafford checked his watch. “They could be 120 miles away by now, and still moving.”
“Or they could have landed and moved the bomb to another vehicle,” Jake said. He pulled his phone and called his boss. “I need every agent in the Dallas/Fort Worth area woke up, called in, and searching every small airport, hanger or industrial building large enough to land and hide a Black Hawk helicopter.” He listened. “Yes, it’s that important. Are you familiar with the code words PINNACLE and BENT SPEAR?” He paused. “I thought you might be. It’s that important.” He disconnected.
“Now what,” Honi asked.
“Now we get every team of nuclear weapon technicians on the base out there and make sure we aren’t missing any more bombs,” Jake replied.
The darkness slowly yielded to the light blue of early dawn at Fort Hood as Major Bob Stafford stood, fists on his hips, watching the first of three C-130 cargo planes land and taxi over near the hangers. The back ramp lowered and an aircraft tow vehicle drove up the incline and into the cargo bay. Two minutes later it slowly backed out, its long forward boom attached to a small helicopter. The long blades were folded back over the fuselage and strapped in place.
Jake approached and stood next to Stafford.
“First two of six,” Stafford said. “Your boss knows how to get things done.”
“He does. Nuclear Emergency Support Team, or NEST units.” The helicopters carried a sophisticated sensor package attached to their undercarriage. From a height of 100 to 150 feet, they would sweep back and forth over the search area to locate any radioactive sources or materials. Those identified radioactive locations would then be searched by ground teams.
The flight crew unfolded the blades on the first helicopter as the tow vehicle pulled the second unit from the back of the C-130. The blades were opened and locked into position. The fuel truck approached, stopped and its crew filled the tank on the chopper. The flight crew climbed aboard and started the engine. Sixty seconds later it took to the air and headed north.
For the last four hours, soldiers from Fort Hood had been mobilized, loaded into troop trucks, and deployed to the Dallas/Fort Worth area, in cooperation with the FBI, to locate the missing nuclear bomb.
The FBI had run several nuclear based exercises over the years partnering with the Air Force, Marines and the Army. Most of the training in the past had been focused on dirty bombs; traditional explosives with a radioactive component. Critics of the training complained that the exercises had been stacked in favor of a positive outcome, for political or public relations reasons. This one, however, was no exercise. This was real. A fully functional thermonuclear bomb, with a 15-mile blast radius, had been stolen. This single device contained enough explosive force to incinerate over 700 square miles in a matter of a few seconds. Dallas and Fort Worth, Texas were the closest targets.
FEMA and Homeland Security were now involved, as well. Evacuating the two cities would only add to the chaos and bring the search to a standstill. Local radio and television stations had been provided with the cover story that a massive exercise was underway, and that this was only a drill; no one was in danger. People were told to remain calm and continue with their daily routine.
“You said we had two potential target cities,” Stafford said. “Now we have two missing nuclear weapons.”
“New York and Washington,” Jake replied.
“So how does Dallas or Fort Worth fit into that scenario?”
“I don’t know. There are just too many things that aren’t adding up.”
“Well, something better start adding up, and pretty damn quick,” Stafford said, staring at Jake. “Because a missing hydrogen bomb is scaring the crap out of me. Not to mention that they stole it right from under my nose. This is as personal as it gets!”
Jake’s phone buzzed: text from Briggs. “All of the airports have been searched. No sign of the Black Hawk.”
Stafford lowered his head and walked slowly back to the HUMVEE. Jake joined him as they returned to the Tactical Command Center. Fort Hood looked almost deserted. Every available soldier was deployed in the search.
“Anything?” Jake asked as he entered the room.
Honi shook her head. “I’ve been going over IR satellite scans from the NRO, and nothing so far. Ellington said the Director of National Intelligence has everybody called in, going over every square inch of our satellite coverage. I hope they find something, because right now, we’re stuck.”
Jake turned to Stafford. “Major, I’m just curious about something. Is there any way we can go back and find out if Secretary Cooper had any input or control over General Teague being assigned to command Fort Hood?”