“Okay, Gramma, I’ll try.”
“That’s how we begin to change the world, honey, by trying.”
CHAPTER 42
Senator Elizabeth Bechtel greeted her first visitors of the day in her state office in the 500 block of SW Main Street. “Gentlemen, thank you for taking the time to come in today.”
“Your Chief of Staff said it was a matter of great urgency, so how can we help you?” Steve Clemens said as he and his business partner sat down.
“I understand your company, C&R Construction, is one of the largest contractors in the area,” she said, watching their response intently.
“We cover the Portland area and up into Washington. If it’s within 250 miles, we have construction in progress. What’s this all about?”
“You’re aware of the storm moving up the Pacific?”
The two business partners glanced at one another. “The hurricane? What about it?” Clemens asked.
“What if you had four-to-six days’ advance knowledge of severe storm damage. Could you put yourself in a position to supply materials and labor to repair a large volume of buildings over an extended area?”
Clemens and his partner looked at each other again and back to her. “You’re saying that as if it’s an established fact. Nothing that severe has happened in at least a hundred years. How would you know what is going to happen with the weather?”
“Do you think I would waste my time coming out here and talking with you if I didn’t know?” She didn’t feel agitated, but if you were going to drive a point home, a certain amount of theatrics was necessary.
“But if a major storm, as you’re indicating, hits the area, wouldn’t that become a disaster area? Wouldn’t a state of emergency be declared?”
“Yes, of course it would,” she replied. “And all of those emergency funds would go to those companies who were most prepared with material and labor and the political connections to secure federal emergency contracts.”
“I assume we’re talking millions of dollars, aren’t we?”
“If that’s the only scale you’re prepared to work in, I may have overestimated your company. If that’s the case, I’m wasting my time.” She stood up from behind her desk, waiting for their predictable response.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Clemens said, motioning her to sit back down. “Exactly what scale of damage are you talking about?”
“In the Portland area?” she began. “Severe water damage, flooding, winds in excess of 120 miles per hour. Every residential dwelling would need some amount of repairs, many would need to be removed and rebuilt from the ground up. You’re looking at New Orleans and Katrina, here in Portland.”
“That’s millions of buildings, that’s…”
“Tens of billions of dollars,” she finished. Clemens and his partner looked overwhelmed. “Can you put together the materials and the labor?”
“Yes,” Clemens and his partner said together.
“Good,” she replied. “Now all you need is the political connection to secure the contracts.”
Clemens looked stunned for a moment. Then he grinned, “And I assume you can make that happen?”
“I can.”
“How much?” he asked.
“You know, the horrible thing about being in my position, as a United States Senator, is that the cost of running a successful election campaign is incredibly high. It forces me to ask for donations all of the time, something I detest doing, but I am a victim of circumstances, so I do what I have to do.”
“Don’t we all,” Clemens replied, his grin widening.
She slid a sheet of paper across the desk to him. “These are the Political Action Committees and organizations that support my re-election efforts. Thanks to the Supreme Court, there is no longer an upper limit to how many organizations you can donate to, so please be generous with them. The more you help me, the more I will be in a position to help you.”
The three of them stood and shook hands. As Clemens and his partner left, Janet, her local Chief of Staff leaned in the door. “The next one is here. If you can keep to the twenty-minute time schedule, we can finish by ten tonight. I’ve got the next three days booked solid.”
“Thanks, Janet, send them in.”
CHAPTER 43
Guang Xi had started taking short naps between mine placements. The whole process would take almost three days and he couldn’t stay awake for the entire time. The torpedo technician woke him fifteen minutes before the next mine was scheduled to be deployed. The mini-nuke mine was already placed in the torpedo tube. Guang Xi struggled again to lie on the deck of the torpedo room and attached the timer display and control unit. He went through the now familiar routine that armed the mine and set the countdown timer.
He signaled the sonar room and the soft pulse gave him the contour of the Cascadia Subduction Zone fault line. He asked the Captain to make a small course correction and counted down the seconds to start the timer. He pressed the button that set the mine into its final countdown sequence. The torpedo tech again closed the torpedo tube door, flooded the tube, opened the outer door and nodded to Guang Xi to let him know everything was ready. Guang Xi glanced again at his map and counted the last few seconds. He pressed the large button that ejected the mine, and the sub accelerated back up to its eight-knot traveling speed. Five minutes later the thud of the mine on the ocean floor gave them the image he waited to see. The mini-nuke mine was again placed exactly on the line formed by the two tectonic plates. Mine number 20 was in place. Fifteen mines and approximately 30 hours remained to complete America’s punishment.
Guang Xi hobbled back to the sonar room and leaned in. “Hear anything out there?”
“Only the normal background sounds of the ocean,” the sonar tech replied. “No pings, no screw sounds, no one anywhere close to us.”
“Good,” Guang Xi said. “Even with America’s vaunted technology, they still don’t know we’re here. The great America isn’t so mighty after all. Soon they will be brought to their knees.” He returned to the torpedo room and settled in for another short nap. He had to keep his mind clear and sharp in order to complete his mission. He dreamed of the horror he would unleash on America, which was long overdue. Soon, he thought. Very soon.
CHAPTER 44
Captain Paul Jacobs rushed out of his cabin with the COB close behind him. The alarm was sounding with the call going out over the 1MC loud speakers, “Battle stations, battle stations, this is not a drill, I repeat, this is not a drill, battle stations.” He passed Lieutenant Grimes as she ran toward the ladder that would take her down to her station in the torpedo room.
“Status?” Jacobs demanded as he entered the control center.
“Still at flank speed,” Silverton answered. “Underwater contact dead ahead, range 40,000 yards and closing. All stations manned and ready, Sir. Captain has the Con,” he announced.