“We don't think so,” Grant said. “There was never any telemetry that would suggest an attempt at re-entry.”
“What about any damage to the atmosphere?”
“So far, Mr. President, our sensors indicate minimal disturbances,” Grand answered.
“So it was an accident?” Clancy asked.
“Again, probably not,” Grant said. “The sub's maneuvers were calculated. We believe this was a deliberate missile launch and detonation. And we think it was intended as a show of force, either to impress us and our allies, or someone else.”
“Who might that be, Dean?”
“Based on additional information, Mr. President, from our British colleagues and their operative in North Korea, we think it might be potential customers for the Candles.”
“You mean terrorist organizations,” Skyler said as the drinks were served.
“Exactly, Mr. Skyler,” Grant said. “Anyone looking to jump into the major league weapons business.”
“This looks like a sales demonstration to me,” Skyler added. “Escandoza must be bored with selling cocaine. Weapons of mass destruction are more glamorous.”
Grant said, “I agree. He's formed a partnership with the Koreans to produce and sell korium devices. Because of the loss of the Cuban korium shipment, we think his potential customers were getting cold feet.”
“They needed some hand holding,” Gates added and sipped his beer. “So they popped off a Candle to assure everyone the merchandise is for real.”
“Right, Mr. Gates,” Grant said. “We also believe Escandoza is going to attempt to assemble the weapons at a new location somewhere in Colombia. We've tracked a number of suspicious transport planes leapfrogging across the Pacific from Pyongyang to Bogota for the past three days.”
“Who's operating that sub, Alan?” the President said.
“The man in charge is ex-Soviet naval officer, Colonel Felix Blackstone. After the fall of the Soviet Union, he became a commando in the elite Black Knights of the Belgium Army. He served three years in a military prison for attempted rape. A year after his release, he surfaced as a major player in the Eastern European black market. He progressed into selling weapons, became a mercenary and finally graduated summa cum terrorist. Spent time in Italy working for the Red Brigade, and from there he moved on to Colombia to become Escandoza's right arm. He's carried out a number of assassinations for the drug lord and has vowed never to be taken alive. There's no telling how many men Blackstone has killed. In summary, gentlemen, he is to be considered extremely dangerous and unpredictable.”
“How does a man like Blackstone put together a crew for a nuclear submarine?” the President asked.
“Easier than you might think, sir,” Grand said. “The Russian Navy suffered severely for years after the collapse of the Soviet Union — insufficient maintenance, lack of funding and subsequent effects on the training of personnel, and replacement of outdated equipment. Another setback is because of Russia's domestic shipbuilding industry which has been in decline. There are scores of sailors that served as submariners. Now they can’t get a job for which they were trained. All Blackstone needs is one hundred and twenty to man a Yankee-class boomer. My guess is he has an abundance of recruits lining up to come on board for the right price.”
The President was silent for a moment, appearing to be deep in thought. Then he turned to the National Security Adviser. “Recommendations, Dean?”
“Mr. President, our actions to stop this madness must be swift and severe. Our first goal is to locate and capture or destroy that pirate sub. We need to have the Navy concentrate all its resources in the Pacific where the sub is projected to be heading.”
The President turned to Thomas Lancaster. “You have my authority to use deadly force if necessary. Is that understood?”
The Secretary of the Navy nodded.
Dean Clancy asked, “Alan, any progress on your satellite surveillance search for Escandoza's headquarters?”
“Based on activity over the last few days, we have what we feel are a half-dozen possible sites,” Grant said. “An Army Ranger rapid response team is rehearsing in the mountains outside El Centro, California, right now for an assault once we confirm the location.”
“Excellent,” Clancy said. Then he turned to Skyler. “We also need your help, Mr. Skyler. It is essential that we locate and recover what we think is the only known supply of korium left in the world — the Arctic Air shipment lost in Greenland — and we have to do it before Escandoza gets there. I believe you were investigating its whereabouts while you were in London?”
Skyler nodded.
“As I'm sure you're aware,” Clancy continued, “this country is under extreme budget restraints resulting in major cutbacks in our military. We do not have the resources to conduct scientific and research missions. Furthermore, we’re required by law to utilize the private sector for any endeavors of this type.”
“To make matters worse,” the President said, “Greenland is an autonomous territory under the protection of the Kingdom of Denmark.”
“I guess they still haven’t gotten over the Air Force managing to accidentally drop that cruise missile into downtown Copenhagen,” Mickey Gates said.
“Or crashing a B-1b a week later into the Central Government complex in Godthab,” Skyler added.
“Exactly,” the President said.
“We don’t have the time to go through all the proper diplomatic channels and get the appropriate permissions,” Clancy said.
“And that’s assuming that Denmark or Greenland would agree to any kind of military intrusion of their respective sovereignty or interests,” the President added.
“That's why we've brought you and Mr. Gates here,” Clancy said. “We need a well-respected salvage organization like OceanQuest to put together the expedition to Greenland. Working in the background with a number of research groups and universities, we can help push through the appropriate paperwork and get your clearances. In addition, we can supply you critical intelligence support needed to locate and recover the korium shipment.”
“But we can’t send in the troops,” the President said. “To do so would take months of diplomatic wrangling — time we just don’t have. Can you do it?”
Skyler said, “Our research ship, Phoenix, is currently taking on supplies at Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution on Cape Cod. She was scheduled to begin a search for a Civil War ironclad off the Virginia coast. We can have her and an expedition team ready and assembled in five days.” He looked at Gates.
“That’s really pushing it, Sky.”
“We’ll make it happen, Mr. President,” Skyler said.
“Good.” The President turned to Dr. John Dolen. “Any progress on how the national security files were compromised?”
“Yes, sir,” Dolen said, his eyes magnified through the thick lenses of his glasses.
“And we know who did it,” Professor Reynolds added, his chubby fingers pulling at the ends of his bushy mustache. “Working with specialists from the FBI, we cross-checked the age of all passwords used in the last twelve months — one had not been used in two decades but had somehow been protected from deletion after the normal dormant usage period. It belonged to Dr. William Thorpe. Thorpe got in and stole the files. Interestingly enough, at the time he did it, there was a major system crash. Part of one of the files he was reading — what became a lost cluster — was thrown across the server's hard drive. Thorpe got back in, finishing his download but he had no way of knowing about the lost cluster. That's the one we found when we discovered Project Candle Power.”
“So,” the President stated, “Dr. Thorpe is alive and well and working for Escandoza.”