It was the world war no one had ever really expected to happen.
That reality, along with the effects of Cherry Tree, had squashed the champagne toast within seconds of it being suggested. The military men stared at the screen as if seeing one of the deepest rings of hell.
Except for Riggs. He was still standing and he reached out and grabbed the unopened bottle. He popped the top and tilted it back, taking a big swig.
Then he slammed it down on the conference table.
“Finally,” he muttered as his eyes tracked the weapons on the screen.
Nada had done everything exactly as laid out in the SOP. The W54 nuclear bomb was ready. All he had to do was push the button to arm it. He’d set the timer for the minimum: three minutes. Like that was going to happen.
“Three to one,” Mac said, standing behind Nada and putting a hand on his right shoulder.
“Which way?” Kirk asked. He put a hand on Nada’s left shoulder.
“Instant detonation,” Mac said.
Doc was a spectator, perhaps regretting his decision to leave the Snake.
Perhaps not. “I think I will go with the one.”
“Me too,” Roland said.
“Kirk?” Mac asked.
“One.”
“Well, shoot,” Mac said. “You guys are ganging up on me and someone has to cover the bettor. I’ll take the three then.”
“It’s been a pleasure, gentlemen,” Nada said, then he pushed the button to arm.
Chapter 15
“Two minutes since launch,” the Keep said.
Moms looked up. “And?”
“And time for a reckoning,” the Keep said. “According to my book, this has the possibility of getting ugly, so I could use some, shall we say, team for backup.”
Moms and Neeley looked at each other in confusion, but got to their feet. Neeley readied her HK416 and Moms her MK23 pistol.
The steel doors to the PEOC slid open. As if expecting that, the Keep walked in. Neeley and Moms flanked her, weapons extended.
The occupants of the room broke their mesmerized gaze from the screen tracking the nukes to the intruders.
“General Riggs,” the Keep said. She held up the watch. “You’ve had two minutes to reflect on what you’ve just done. What if you had a do-over? Would you push the button again?”
Riggs blinked, confused. The rush of champagne on top of the Cherry Tree had muddied his brain. But the Cherry Tree prevailed.
“I damn well would.”
“Kill him,” the Keep said.
Neeley and Moms fired, both hitting him right between the eyes with a double-tap times two, which effectively blew his head off.
While General Riggs’s body was still crumpling to the floor, the Keep walked over to the table. She stepped over his body and reached into the briefcase. She pulled the cord out and the screen flickered, then snapped into darkness.
“What the fuck?” someone muttered.
“There have been no launches,” the Keep said. “The system is set up so that the person who has the code can enter it. They can think they launched. Then they get two minutes to reflect on what they’ve done. It’s happened before. Kennedy during the Cuban Missile Crisis. Nixon while drunk one night. Reagan over a Fail-Safe—type scenario. And George Bush, the younger. They all launched. And two minutes later, when they got their chance to do over, they all thanked God on their knees they had that chance. And they never entered this room again.”
The Keep held up the Book of Truths. “So it is written. So it is.”
“Only time I’ve ever been happy to lose a bet,” Mac said.
“Bring it in!” Nada yelled into his transmitter.
“You owe,” Roland said to Mac as the five members of the Nightstalkers gathered near the edge of the steel walkway. The W54 was armed and counting down next to them.
“Two minutes, thirty seconds,” Doc said, staring at the old-fashioned analog clock on the instrument panel.
Eagle brought the Snake in fast, flaring to a hover.
“Hey,” Roland said, looking down into the mine tower. “There’s some guys down there. Running.”
“Can’t run fast enough,” Nada said.
Eagle turned the Snake and the back ramp beckoned. They all jumped and even Doc made it without help.
“Go! Go! Go!” Nada yelled.
Eagle slammed the throttle and the Snake roared up and away from the tower.
Inside the abandoned Pinnacle bunker, the old system slowly counted down to launch.
It never made it as the W54 SADM went off, obliterating the tower and the four missiles as well as the stockpile of weapons.
What was more radiation on top of a landscape scarred with it?
Chapter 16
The 740th nuclear explosion in the Nevada Test Site lit up the sky behind the Snake. It was the first one that had not been a test.
“What about the outliers, wherever they are?” Doc asked. “Won’t they go automatically to self-destruct?”
“We assume they will,” Ms. Jones said over the net.
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Kirk said.
“And?” Ms. Jones prompted.
“We got the alert for Nebraska from the old SAC headquarters, right?”
“Correct,” Ms. Jones said.
“Well?” Kirk said.
“Very good,” Ms. Jones replied.
“Kiss me. Kiss me as if it were the last time!”
Colonel Horace Egan, USAF Retired, was rounding third and ready to cross the plate with Mrs. Floyd as she cried out a line from Casablanca.
She was leaning against a console in the underground bunker, Egan pressed up against her. Her dress was in disarray and Egan planned on fixing that by taking it off her. She’d come back twice more since their first encounter, both times without her husband, and he’d advanced a base each time. Tonight he planned to bring it home.
She’d put up a good display, but Egan had always known that when he focused on an objective, he could achieve it. He leaned into her, kissing her once more, glad he still had all his teeth even if he were a bit short on the Samson hair.
“We’ll always have—” he began as he parted lips with her, but his line was cut short as a board on the right side of the room lit up like a Christmas tree. Fourteen flashing orange lights.
“Oh crap,” Egan said.
And then a red phone gave a shrill ring. Reluctantly, Egan separated his body from Mrs. Floyd, who pouted and pondered, not for the first time and not for the last time, why she was drawn back to this dark place and this randy old goat.
Men and their missiles.
“Yes?” Egan snapped as he picked up the phone.
“Colonel Egan, my name is Ms. Jones. We have a problem we were hoping you could help us with.”
“All the self-destructs?” Egan asked, glancing up at the board.
“Yes. Is there a way to shut them down? They’re all predigital.”
“Need the arming code to disarm them,” Egan said.
“We’re trying to get it—” Ms. Jones began, but Egan suddenly laughed. His memory wasn’t so bad after all.
“Lady, the last time this joint was active, everyone knew the code. Hold on.” Egan walked over to the one working console in the control room. Eight circular pins were set in it, like a large bike lock. The numbers were set randomly.
Egan quickly dialed each one to zero.
He hit the red button above them and all the orange lights blinked out.
Peace once more reigned in the SAC control room.
Egan walked over to the phone. “Taken care of. Now, if you don’t mind,” he glanced over at Mrs. Floyd, “I’ve got an important matter to attend to.”