Black-suited figures dropped through the hole, firing, spraying the room with bullets. Isaac's body was slammed up against the bomb casing, then slid down to the floor.
Chapter Twenty-five
In the War Room, Hill was on the phone with the president, telling him not only of the two missiles, but also telling him that it was very likely that the Israelis had exercised the Samson Option.
Lowcraft was listening to him in disbelief. He was stunned that the Israelis had a nuclear weapon secreted in a house in Washington that the U.S. knew about and yet had done nothing.
"It's politics," Hill said in a dull monotone, putting the phone down. "The president will call the Israeli president and square it all away."
"Politics?" Lowcraft was stunned.
"You don't think they stayed out of the Gulf War just because we asked them?" Hill asked. "They snuck that bomb in years ago. We found out about it and realized we could use it for leverage against them by keeping it there. After all, the one you know about is better than the one you don't."
"We also had our Red Flyer teams to keep them on their toes. We sent a Red Flyer mission into Israel every six months or so just to show them we could penetrate their airspace with our Combat Talons any time we wanted to and put a tac nuke on the ground. For the exercises we'd leave a conventional bomb configured as a tac nuke in place as our calling card."
Lowcraft had a dumbfounded look on his face. "The Israelis having a nuclear weapon in Washington was leverage for us! And we've been running training missions into Israel simulating putting an SADM in? That's goddamn illegal!"
Hill wasn't concerned about Lowcraft. Now that the president was truly clued in, Hill knew his political life was over. There probably would be criminal charges, the lawyer part of his brain told him. To have it all end because one old man asked a question.
There was a buzz and Hill flipped open his cellular phone. Hill slumped back in the chair after hearing the report from the other end. "You don't have to worry about it anyway. A CIA strike team has taken out the Samson Option." He looked up. "How long until our airplanes take out the LCC?"
"Two minutes, thirty seconds," Colonel Hurst replied. "Sir, our planes will strike the LCC twelve minutes before Tel Aviv is hit," Hurst said.
"Will that stop the two ICBMs?" Hill asked.
"I doubt it," Lowcraft said.
"But it might?" Hill pressed.
"Anything's possible."
"Give the final go to the B-2," Hill ordered.
Inside the B-2 the pilot and navigator-bombardier listened in disbelief as they received their final authorization to drop their weapon. The Stealth fighter was several miles ahead and already going into its final approach with the bunker-buster bomb in its payload.
"We're going to nuke Louisiana," the nav-bomb muttered.
The pilot said nothing. His concentration was on flying the aircraft. He didn't want to think about what they were about to do. "Arm the weapon," he ordered.
With a shaking hand, the nav-bomb flipped a red switch.
As Kilten's program scrolled up the screen, Parker desperately searched for a way she could wrest control back from the other computer. The clock in the front of the room was down to twelve minutes, but the missile heading her way wasn't the highest priority in Parker's mind. She rapidly typed a question for the computer:
How long until first missile strike?
Computer:
Fourteen minutes. Target Tel Aviv
Inside the War Room the countdown was being called out as all eyes followed the red lines on the screen. "Thirteen minutes to touchdown Tel Aviv! One minute LCC!"
The red line was nearing the shore, closing on the Israeli capital. "How long do we have here?" Hill asked.
"Seventeen minutes."
Parker's fingers were working furiously, her head beginning to nod as she found the program she needed.
She grabbed the phone. "General Lowcraft, this is Major Parker. I can stop them! I can stop the two missiles. Just give me some more time."
Overhead, in the clear blue sky, the pilot of the Stealth fighter pressed a button on the side of his yoke, then pulled back hard on the stick as he kicked in his afterburners. He wasn't worried about getting away from the large black bomb that fell out of the bottom of the plane and was arcing its way toward the small building on the surface. He was worried about the inferno the B-2 thirty seconds behind him was getting ready to let loose.
The bunker-buster landed square on the LCC surface building. The delayed detonation fuse allowed the heavy bomb to crash through the roof and five feet into the floor before it ignited the specially designed charge inside.
A forty-foot-deep crater was ripped into the concrete protecting the LCC.
Parker was thrown against her shoulder straps as the sound of the explosion reverberated through the LCC. A large plume of dust came in the already buckled elevator doors and she could hear rock and earth crashing down in the shaft. She knew she was now buried in the LCC.
Parker prayed that she could still transmit. "General, stop the attack! You've got to trust me!" The message went into a cable then up to the alternate satellite dish that Drake had rigged.
"Twenty seconds until LCC nuclear impact!" Colonel Hurst yelled as Parker's voice faded off the speaker.
In the War Room, Hill slapped his palm on the desk. "She's trying to save her ass. Fry the LCC before that missile hits here!"
"Abort the B-2," Lowcraft ordered.
"Ignore that order!" Hill yelled.
"I'm in command here," Lowcraft yelled back. "You're a damn criminal and I'm not going to listen to you spout orders one second longer."
"I'm in charge!" Hill yelled as he gestured at Lugar. The aide's hand snaked inside his jacket and came out holding a large caliber revolver.
In response, several officers at desks wheeled about, their own pistols in their hands.
Colonel Hurst met General Lowcraft's gaze, then spoke into his headset. "Abort!"
"Jesus!" the pilot yelled as he heard Colonel Hurst's voice.
The navigator-bombardier's thumb was less than an inch from the release button and heading down when the word came.
He jerked his thumb away. "Oh my God, oh my God," the nav-bomb muttered as he very carefully began the process of putting the nuclear weapon in their bomb bay back into an inert status.
"I'm going to have someone's ass for this," the pilot swore as he pulled back and banked away from the wreckage of the LCC.
Parker was looking up, waiting for the end. The clock kept ticking, the red numbers winding down. She grabbed the mike.
"War Room, this is Major Parker. Over."
"This is the War Room," General Lowcraft replied. He was watching military police handcuffing Hill and Lugar. "You've got your time, Major. Make it count. You're the only thing that stands between those nukes and Washington and Tel Aviv."
The pilot of the Blackhawk was pushing his skills to the utmost following the river, leaving behind a trail of spray from the rotors' downwash.
Thorpe was looking directly ahead. Less than two miles away he could see that there was a spread of open water. He looked at the map. It was a large reservoir formed by the main channel being dammed. Beyond and around it lay the swamp that stretched to the Intercoastal Waterway. There were several minor routes around the dike into the swamp. If McKenzie made it into the swamp with Tommy— Thorpe didn't want to think about that.