In fact, he now turned toward us. “You probably think I’m crazy.”
I replied, “No, Bain, we know you’re crazy.”
He started to smile, but then realized his troops were present, and he didn’t want to put any ideas into their heads, so he got serious, like he was sane, and said to me, “There’s not one major figure in the history of the world who has not been called crazy. Caesar, Attila, Genghis Khan, Napoleon, Hit-. Well, maybe he was a little unbalanced. But you understand what I’m saying.”
“I understand that if you think you’re Napoleon, you may need to speak to someone.”
“John, I don’t think I’m anyone except who I am.”
“That’s a good start, Bain.”
He informed us, “I don’t think you appreciate what I’m doing.” He thereupon went into a whole riff about great men who changed the course of history, including some guy named King John of Poland, who saved Vienna from the Turks and didn’t get anything out of it. I mean, who gives a shit, Bain?
Meanwhile, the countdown clock read 11:13, and counting.
Kate took advantage of Madox’s pausing to light a cigarette and asked him, “What is Wild Fire?”
He blew a few smoke rings, then answered, “It’s a top secret government protocol that goes into effect if and when America is attacked with a weapon or weapons of mass destruction. It’s the only good and sane thing we’ve ever done since MAD-Mutually Assured Destruction.”
Kate followed up with, “What does that have to do with… with what’s happening now?”
He looked at her through his smoke and asked, “So, you really don’t know, do you?”
I had the impression that if we answered some of these questions wrong-if he thought we were really clueless-then we’d be joining Putyov and the IRS guy sooner rather than later, so I replied, “We were briefed, but-”
“Good. Tell me.”
“Okay… well… Wild Fire is a secret government protocol that goes into effect-”
“John, you’re such a bullshitter.” He said, “I’ll tell you.” He launched into an explanation of Wild Fire, which I found scary but at the same time strangely reassuring. The scariest thing was that Bain Madox knew the intimate details of a secret that was right up there with the most sensitive national secrets in the country, including where the Roswell aliens were hidden.
Meanwhile, the countdown clock read 9:34, and as I watched while Madox spoke, it went to 9:00, then 8:59.
I was catching most of what Madox was saying, and when he began to recite the cities in the world of Islam that were going to be nuked if Wild Fire was ever triggered, I thought the guy was going to have an orgasm.
I mean, he was in total ecstasy, and I sort of hoped he would swoon or something.
When he got to the part of the Wild Fire plan about nuking the Aswan High Dam, he became animated, threw his arms into the air, and said, “Billions of gallons of water. The entire Lake Nasser and the Nile will sweep away Egypt and deposit sixty million bodies in the Mediterranean.”
Jeez. Bain. Tell me you’re not nuts.
As riveting as this was, I did notice two things: one, Madox had his Colt.45 stuck in the inside pocket of his blue blazer, and two, Luther was looking a little concerned, as though this were all new to him. In fact, he lit a cigarette, which you’re not supposed to do on-duty. Especially if it means leaving your rifle dangling by its sling over your shoulder while you screw around with your cigarettes and lighter.
Meanwhile, the room was getting smoky, and I was going to point out that secondhand smoke was not healthy for any of us, but then Bain would point out that neither Kate nor I should be thinking long-range.
The countdown clock read 7:28.
A phone rang somewhere in the room, and it was actually Madox’s cell phone, which he pulled out of his pocket. He said, “Madox,” then he listened and confirmed, “Project Green is go,” followed by, “Kaiser Wilhelm,” who must be in on this, or more likely that was a code word that meant everything was fine, and he-Madox-was not under duress.
Madox listened again, then responded, “Good.” He glanced at the countdown clock and said into his cell phone, “About five or six minutes, give or take, then the two minutes for the lock-in. Yes. That’s good. What are they having for dinner?” He listened, laughed, and said, “I may be saving you all from a fate worse than death. Okay. Good. Thanks, Paul.” He added, “God bless us all.” He hung up and told me, “You’ll appreciate this, John. The president and his guests are having French cuisine-poached truite saumonée with sauce relevée for dinner. So, where was I?”
I said, “Excuse me, Bain. I must not have been paying attention, but-”
“Oh, sorry. That was Paul Dunn. The special assistant to the president on matters of national security.” He explained, “They’re having a small, intimate dinner at the White House tonight. This is good because the president and first lady can be quickly evacuated from Washington. Along with Paul.”
“Is the food that bad?”
Madox laughed and said, “You actually are funny.” He put the cell phone back in his pocket. “FYI, I have a cell antenna down here, and my relay tower is again activated, but unfortunately for my non-paying customers in the vicinity, the system is now voice scrambled.” He asked me, “Where was I?”
“Sixty million bodies floating down the Nile.”
“Right. The biggest single loss of life in the history of the world. Plus, don’t forget another hundred million or more of our Muslim friends incinerated in a hundred more nuclear explosions.”
I still wasn’t quite following this. I understood what Wild Fire was-which sounded a little extreme as a retaliation for a terrorist nuke going off in America-but who was I to judge? What I didn’t understand was how Madox, by nuking four Islamic cities, was going to trigger Wild Fire… then I got it. It wasn’t four Islamic cities. It was two American cities. The cities where the nukes were right now-LA and San Francisco. Holy shit. I looked at Kate, who I could see was white as a ghost.
Madox grabbed a remote clicker from his console and turned on the three flat screen televisions.
The first one brightened, and I could see a news studio, and a weather lady was pointing at a national weather map. Madox said, “Washington,” then he hit the Mute button as the sound came up.
The second screen showed another news studio and some guy was giving a sports roundup. Madox noted, “San Francisco,” then muted that TV as well.
The third screen showed two news anchors yakking it up with a daytime skyline behind them, and it took me a few seconds to recognize it as downtown Los Angeles. Madox listened for a few seconds, then looked at his watch. “Okay, it’s seven fifty-six here, so on the Left Coast, it’s four fifty-six P.M.” He looked at his countdown clock that read 4:48,:47,:46,:45-.
He said, “So, we have five or six minutes for the last letter-D-to reach the receivers. Then, two minutes for lock-in.” He paused. “GOD.”
I cleared my throat and said to him, “Are you…? I mean, are you…?”
“Spit it out, John.”
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“What’s it look like I’m doing?”
I didn’t reply, and neither did Kate.
He sat back in his swivel chair, crossed his legs, and lit yet another cigarette. “Project Green. That’s the name of my plan to trigger Wild Fire. Get it? Four suitcase nukes-two in LA, two in San Francisco.” He added, “They cost me ten million bucks, plus maintenance.”