Christopher Cartwright
The Cassidy Project
Prologue
It was 9 seconds past 9 a.m. precisely — Greenwich Mean Time — when the Thor Rocket, carrying a W49 Nuclear Warhead exploded at an altitude of 250 miles. Robert Cassidy clicked the stop button on his pocket watch to record the time. In the sky above, an explosion which would later be recorded as reaching 1.44 megatons, erupted — sending an artificial aurora borealis of splendid colors across the North Pacific Ocean.
Approximately 900 miles from the detonation point the city of Honolulu in Hawaii experienced the effects of the subsequent and powerful electromagnetic pulse. Approximately 300 streetlights went out in an instant and the island’s only microwave tower was destroyed. The strange events were followed by the eerie sound of the air raid siren, sending terror into the hearts of those who had survived the attack on Pearl Harbor over two decades earlier.
On Johnston Atoll, Robert noticed beads of sweat form inside his protective goggles, which had allowed him to stare at the blast without incinerating his retina. He removed the eyepieces and let them hang below his neck. A few moments later his eyes adjusted to the new and magnificent horizon. Filled with a myriad of reds, ochre, and yellow lines, the artificial aurora borealis dazzled onlookers from Hawaii through to New Zealand for the next three days.
Robert heard the loud ring of the launch station’s phone. He answered it immediately. Listened to the report. Wrote down a few notes on a piece of paper, and then hung up. A wave of relief washed over him at the news. The military project, code-named Starfish Prime, had been a success.
But would they let him continue with his own special project?
His eyes turned to several observers twenty feet back. They were mostly military, but included some civilian engineers, politicians and science reporters. He could guess which of them worked for which organization. All except for one man.
He wore a big smile that expressed the wonder of science while at the same time saying, I told you we could do this. His brown hair was thick and tousled. Giving him the boyish good looks of a young movie star, despite his age possibly being closer to fifty. His brown eyes stared in awe of the event he’d just witnessed.
Above all, he had a deeply pensive quality about him — like he was trying to decide the fate of an extremely important decision. Robert watched the man speaking with some of the military brass involved in the experiment.
The phone rang for a second time.
There would be a number of reports coming in over the following hours. His pulse quickened. He calmed himself — it might not be the report he’d been waiting for. He listened intently. Wrote down a single line of notes. Then carefully crossed them out entirely.
He grinned with pride. It worked! My equation is possible in practice.
The man in the suit approached him. He looked like a bureaucrat not a politician, Robert decided. The man smiled at him. Robert thought it was a kind face. More like a model or movie star. He couldn’t care less which one he was. Someone had mentioned to him that the man was an independent civilian who was here to review the launch. Robert didn’t care who he was, so long as the man gave him the green light to the funding needed to complete the project. The decision to fund the project was too important to leave in the hands of a pen-pusher or the military.
The man approached him. “Mr. Cassidy?”
“Yes, sir.” Robert held out his hand.
The man took it. Gripped it with both hands and said, “My name is Ronald Reagan. That was quite a show you put on today.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“May I see the report?”
Robert handed it to the man. Reagan read the notes. Grinned. “The resulting electromagnetic pulse took out the lights as far away as Hawaii, did they?”
Robert wasn’t sure if the man was pleased or upset by the discovery. No one could have predicted the EMP would travel that far. He looked at the man’s eyes. They gave away nothing. “Yes sir.”
Regan’s almost permanent grin changed to a frown. “What about the second set of notes? The ones you crossed out?”
Robert remained silent.
The Commander of the Joint Task Force 8 approached. His ordinarily surly face, now beaming with pride at their success. “You can tell him, son. He’s part of the secret committee reviewing your theory. His vote will ultimately decide if your project gets to continue or not.”
Robert smiled. He’d made the right choice in picking out the man who held the power over all his hopes and dreams. He’d been polite, bordering on obsequious, to the right man. And then he told him about the unexpected finding.
Mr. Reagan stared at him. Sizing him up, as though he was determining if he could be trusted. “I hope you understand this changes everything. None of this can be reported now.”
“But sir, this only proves that my theory was correct! I must continue my research — now more so than ever. If we want to have any control over its outcome, we need to start now!”
Reagan’s movie star smile returned. “Oh no, no. You don’t understand me, son. I mean, your work definitely needs to continue. In fact I can guarantee the government will be willing to double your funding. Only that from now on, none of it can ever be made public. In fact, we’ll need to move you, your team and your research to a secret location — another island. This one’s a little more private. Somewhere you can commence preparations for your next attempt away from prying eyes. And you’ll have to start immediately.”
Robert laughed. “More private? What’s more private than Johnston Atoll? We’re in the middle of the North Pacific!”
Reagan ignored his question. “Someone will come shortly to pick you and the team up. Then you’ll find out where our most top secret research and development in the history of the U.S. government will take place. I think you’ll like the island.” Reagan then embraced his hand again. “Well done, Mr. Cassidy. I wish you the best of luck with your research. The American people will never know how much you did for them, but just remember I will. And I thank you.”
The man turned to walk away.
“Oh, Mr. Reagan. You know the project is going to take a long time to reach fruition, don’t you?”
“Of course. Our entire plan may take decades to succeed, but it has to be done.”
Three days later, Ronald Reagan, a lifelong Democratic Party member, became the most ardent supporter of conservatism, and a devoted Republican. He never spoke of the reason he left the Democratic Party.
There is no documented reason to suggest that he was involved in something much larger than an American political party. That he was involved in a league of men who wanted to change the world for the better.
Over the course of his political career, he would make many important decisions. But none of them would potentially have such far reaching effects as the one he’d just made. The decision to fund the Cassidy Project.
Major James Maverick stared at the B52H Stratofortress Bomber. She was the deadliest machine ever built and the head of the 705th Aircraft Control and Warning Squadron. Designed as a weapon capable of the extreme destruction required to provide a deterrent against nuclear attack, she protected the north-western corridor of the U.S. mainland. To Maverick, she was the single most beautiful machine in military aviation history.
She was certainly the largest and most formidable bomber in the history of the U.S. Air Force. Powered by eight Pratt & Whitney turbofans she created enough lift to allow for a theoretical maximum take-off weight in excess of four hundred and eighty-eight thousand pounds. Of course, some of the cowboys were confident that given the right length of runway, she could take-off with just about any amount of weight. She was equipped with an armament of both traditional and nuclear bombs, as well as a pneumatically driven M61 Vulcan, six-barrel, air-cooled, Gatling-style rotary cannon which fired 20 mm rounds at an extremely high rate typically exceeding 6,000 rounds per minute. A smile formed on his otherwise serious face — he was proud of her.