Despite that concern though, she had entered her code. What other option was there? They were here and they'd received their orders. Parker felt strangely detached from reality; even her fear felt like someone else's pressed upon her. Sixteen years of military training from her first day at the Air Force Academy was allowing her to function and follow orders.
"We do our duty," Brinn said. "Enter your code."
Sanchez didn't move.
The muzzle of Brinn's sub was now centered on Sanchez's forehead. "Enter your fucking code to remove the locks, Captain, or I guarantee you'll never leave this place alive. Your only chance is to do your duty."
"Scanlon was primary weapons," Sanchez said. "Maybe he knew something we don't. We don't know exactly what's going on. We—" Sanchez was again cut off by Brinn.
"We're not supposed to know exactly what's happening. We're supposed to do what we're trained to do when we're given the correct orders!" His finger tightened on the trigger. "You have five seconds, Captain, or I blow your head off. And you know I'll do it." The muzzle moved ever so slightly. "You have three seconds," Brinn warned.
Sanchez looked at Parker but what could she say? She'd already entered her code. She looked down into the canyon, unconsciously holding her breath, fearing either outcome of Sanchez's decision.
With shaking hands, Sanchez took Parker's place and typed in his code word. "May God forgive us," he whispered.
All three tensed as the screen cleared. They each, to varying extent, expected the bomb to go off in their faces. As the seconds passed and nothing happened, they slowly relaxed.
A new message came up. "Locks are removed," Parker read. "Weapon is armed and ready for incoming commands."
Another message flashed and numbers began counting down on the screen.
"Bomb is armed and firing sequence initiated," Parker whispered in disbelief. "Two hours until firing." Without consciously thinking of it, her fingers set the timer on her wristwatch for two hours and she pressed the start button.
Sanchez stared at the bomb. "I am the destroyer of worlds," he whispered.
Brinn, his professional demeanor cracked by the last couple of minutes, jabbed a finger in Sanchez's chest. "You're a crazy fuck. If it's the last thing I do, you're out of Red Flyer. You can kiss your career good-bye."
Sanchez looked at the star-filled sky. "You are both just another button on that panel."
"Another word and I'm placing you under arrest," Brinn snarled. "Now, let's get out of here."
The other two didn't need any further urging as they gathered up their rucksacks and slithered down the canyon wall.
It took them one hour and forty-eight minutes of hard climbing to make it to the overwatch position. Breathing heavily, they threw their rucks to the ground as they reached the top of the knoll. Brinn quickly undid the flap on his rucksack and pulled out three long plastic tubes. He unscrewed the ends and slid out the stock, receiver, and barrel for a fifty-caliber sniper rifle. With practiced hands, he quickly bolted the three parts together and slid the eight-power scope on top. The first hint of dawn was showing in the eastern sky, lighting up the Jordanian border.
He pulled back the bolt and chambered one of the five-inch-long rounds. He sighted in on the bomb. It sat where they had left it, undisturbed. His finger trembled lightly on the trigger as he watched, protecting the bomb in its final moments.
"Prepare to record for the damage report," he told Sanchez, the first words spoken since they'd left the bomb.
Sanchez pulled a digital video camera out of his rucksack and trained it in the general direction of the bomb.
Parker leaned back against her rucksack, feeling the sweat beginning to dry on her back. She checked her watch. Six minutes before detonation.
The three were silent as the minutes passed. Parker looked at her watch once more. A minute. She pulled her goggles down and turned them back on. She felt pain in her shoulders and realized she was hunched over behind her ruck, putting it between her and the bomb. She forced herself to straighten up. She knew the effects the bomb would have, knew that they were safe at this distance. But although her mind knew the facts, her body still felt and feared the worst.
Brinn put a special cover over the end of his scope, a device that would protect his eye from the effect of the flash. "Give me a time hack," he ordered.
"Fourteen seconds," Parker said. "Ten." She watched the numbers. "Five. Four. Three. Two. One."
She flinched as there was a sharp flash of light in the direction of the bomb, but just as quickly, the light was gone and nothing happened. No shock wave… no mushroom cloud… nothing.
"Malfunction?" Sanchez was looking through binoculars.
"Something blew," Brinn muttered. He jabbed a finger at Sanchez. "Come up on FM radio and see if our exfil chopper is inbound. If you get contact, tell them we have a malfunction."
"They don't malfunction," Parker said in a low voice, but Brinn ignored her.
Sanchez turned on the small FM radio secreted in his vest and put the small headset on. "Condor this is Eagle, over."
He pressed a finger to his ear as he got a reply. He relayed the information to the other two. "Condor is five minutes out."
"Tell them about the malfunction," Brinn insisted. "Tell them the mission is a no-go."
Sanchez repeated the information. He listened to the reply, then slowly looked at the other two. "They know. It was a test," he said.
"What?" Brinn was confused.
"A test. They had a small conventional explosive rigged in the canister, not a nuke," Sanchez said.
"Why the fuck would they have us come out here for a goddamn test?!" Brinn exploded.
"To see if we'd do it," Parker said in a quiet voice.
Major Brinn, Major Parker, and Captain Sanchez were directed into a dimly lit conference room by the taciturn lieutenant who'd been their escort since their arrival at Cheyenne Mountain two hours earlier.
The trip to Colorado had required a series of rides with plenty of time to reflect, from the moment the HH-53 Pavelow helicopter had swooped in to pick them up in Israel and fly them to Turkey, where a U.S. Air Force jet had been waiting to take them to Germany, then on to the United States. They'd been debriefed by several men, some wearing civilian clothes, on the flight back to the States. Parker, Brinn, and Sanchez had spent the flight anxiously awaiting this after-action review of the exercise. Not once had they been told why they'd been sent on a test mission into Israel with what they thought was a nuclear bomb. Nor were any regrets or concerns over Scanlon's death expressed.
The conference room was located inside Cheyenne Mountain, on the southwest side of Colorado Springs. Cheyenne Mountain was a massive granite mountain along the front range of the Rocky Mountains. Pikes Peak was a few miles to the northwest, Colorado Springs to the northeast. The complex inside the mountain had been built in the early 1960s by the Department of Defense to house NORAD, the North American Aerospace Defense Command.
Parker looked around the room. There were several colonels and majors seated around the conference table with junior ranking officers in plastic seats along the walls. Two men, seated all the way at the rear of the room, were shrouded in shadow, only their silhouettes and the dim glow of a pipe. Parker was surprised the man was smoking in here, given that smoking in federal facilities had long ago been banned. The scent of the pipe smoke lay heavy in the room.