Harris spoke to the group. “The President had no choice but to establish Valiant Locksmith, because Congress wouldn’t act, and the environmentalists wouldn’t let them. Over the years, several nuclear accidents were hushed up around the country, each one increasingly more severe.” He nodded to Adonia. “Ms. Rojas knows from personal experience how we dodged a bullet and avoided a real catastrophe at Granite Bay. If just one minor detail hadn’t gone right that day, we might have been looking at an incident worse than Three Mile Island or Japan’s Fukushima.”
Adonia shot a quick glance to van Dyckman, thinking of how he had meddled during the response, as well as his earlier botched calculations for the density of the fuel rod storage array. A lot of other bullets, she thought, barely dodged.
Stanley studiously ignored her.
Harris continued, “There were many other incidents before Granite Bay, such as the incident at the Waste Isolation Pilot Plant in New Mexico. Fortunately, only low-level waste is stored in WIPP, but several workers were accidentally exposed to a slight amount of radiation. There was no real danger to the public, and the incident itself should have been inconsequential, but the slipup was indicative of the much larger high-level nuclear waste problem. Even because of that minor lapse, the contractor lost its $2.5 billion yearly contract to run the Los Alamos National Laboratory.”
Garibaldi looked queasy. “There’s no such thing as an inconsequential radiation incident.”
Shawn stepped in. “You’re right. That incident at WIPP was only the second time since the Manhattan Project that the government really shook up its nuclear infrastructure. Granite Bay pushed the President over the edge.”
Senator Pulaski pulled himself up. “We take this very seriously, and that’s why Hydra Mountain is so desperately needed.” He lifted his chin, as though lecturing his staff. “All nuclear waste is dangerous. That’s why it belongs in here instead of out there.”
Adonia was surprised Pulaski would make such a broad and ill-informed comment, considering he was the one man who funded the country’s nuclear infrastructure. “Actually, it’s a matter of degree, Senator. WIPP stores only the lowest-level waste, such as contaminated gloves and paper, objects that may have briefly come in contact with radioactive material. It’s mostly secondary material and poses no immediate danger—”
“Immediate danger is a relative term, Ms. Rojas.” Garibaldi fixed his eyes on the last of the concrete cylinders as workers removed it from the second flatbed. “I’ll admit that a pair of lightly contaminated gloves is a lesser concern than radioactive spent fuel rods, but what level is truly safe? Unshielded rods emit enough radiation to kill a person after only a few seconds of exposure. The WIPP incident may have been minor, but if the same mishap occurred at your Granite Bay site, we’d be having an entirely different conversation.”
“At least there would be a conversation,” van Dyckman said. “And that’s the point. Nobody wants to talk about storing nuclear waste. Protest groups throw up roadblock after roadblock against any proposed solution, Congress doesn’t act—it’s as if everyone thinks the problem will just go away if we ignore it long enough.”
The tractor-crawler drove away carrying the large concrete cask, but the members of the group were caught up in their own conversation. Garibaldi rocked back on his heels near the rough wall. “Sanergy is aware of the magnitude of the present problem, but the only permanent solution is to stop producing more waste in the first place. If we expand safe, clean energy alternatives, then there will be no more high-level nuclear waste.”
Undersecretary Doyle was impatient with the debate. “That still doesn’t explain why we’re here. Why am I part of this group? Just to add another perspective before the Senator’s congressional oversight meeting? Sounds like half-assed planning to me.”
Garibaldi seemed troubled and curious. “And why did the President want me here as the … loyal opposition?” He seemed to be amused by the term. “I would think I’d be the last person he wanted to see this.”
“The President didn’t ask for anybody specifically,” Shawn said. “We took recommendations, and Rob Harris was very persuasive. You’re all here for a reason. Ms. Rojas, for example. Considering her hands-on familiarity with the problem, and as site manager of the nation’s largest nuclear power plant, she was a natural choice.”
Van Dyckman frowned. “Rob Harris also suggested Dr. Garibaldi, as well as Undersecretary Doyle, even though she doesn’t have as much background in nuclear energy.” His voice turned sour. “His approvals were rubber-stamped, and by the time I actually saw the names, it was too late to postpone.”
The site manager said curtly, “I wanted a well-balanced group with fresh eyes, people who could provide an unbiased perspective—a review team outside of your part of the DOE, Dr. van Dyckman, who wouldn’t have a personal stake in the program. Even though Ms. Doyle’s nuclear expertise is in Weapons rather than Energy, her engineering credentials are impeccable.”
Out of the corner of her eye Adonia saw Victoria Doyle give a curt nod to Harris. There was obviously something else going on between them.…
As the second flatbed was unloaded and the workers finished their paperwork, Harris guided them to the interior guard portal and a smaller vault door embedded in the granite wall. “Let’s go inside to the storage locations.”
“Then you’ll see the good stuff,” van Dyckman said. He gathered the group into a small semicircle next to the gate. “Keep in mind that DOE is already moving an incredible amount of high-level waste into Hydra Mountain, under the strictest security guidelines. Our intent is to rapidly reduce the amount of nuclear waste stored in inadequate holding areas at a hundred different sites across the nation. This will dramatically reduce the risk of an accident outside. Valiant Locksmith has been operational for a year since the President signed the classified Executive Order, but this is still a dangerous place—not an office building. However, Rob’s team is doing a great job.”
The Senator added, “And we’d like you to reach that same conclusion for your report to the Intelligence Oversight Committee.”
Van Dyckman kept smiling. “By law, once a year we’re required to conduct an outside and unbiased assessment of the entire program. The President is keenly interested, and as his military aide, Colonel Whalen is his eyes and ears. The rest of you constitute his blue-ribbon committee to review what we’ve accomplished, and, we hope, give Hydra Mountain a clean bill of health to present to the oversight committee.”
“If it’s warranted,” Garibaldi said.
“No pressure,” Adonia muttered.
“Of course it’s warranted,” van Dyckman said. “I’ve added DOE upgrades to the old military safeguards, supplementing the antiquated Cold War protective systems. With all the safety and security systems, this is the ideal place for our operations. Brand-new technology alongside tried-and-true legacy systems.”
Garibaldi turned to Shawn. “Ms. Rojas manages a nuclear power plant, so I understand what she brings to the table, but what is your actual expertise in these matters, Colonel Whalen?”
Shawn smiled. “I’ve had hands-on experience with nuclear material as a bomber pilot—I periodically carried nukes in my B-2. Because of the short notice and importance, the President asked me to expedite the review, but this is Mr. Harris’s facility, so he’ll lead us through. I’m just an observer, too.”
Harris said, “I’ll go over everything, step by step, corridor by corridor. You’ll see for yourselves, and reach your own conclusions.” He stepped up to the security door and swiped his card to open the vault. “The interior storage facility is isolated from this staging area by yet another layer of security. Once inside, we’ll head up to my office in the operations center, where you’ll see how we keep track of Valiant Locksmith ops nationwide, as well as the status of the waste stored inside the Mountain. That’ll give you some idea of how extensive the program is.”
The heavy door opened. Harris turned back to them, touchin
g his lanyard. “Make sure your badge and dosimeter are visible at all times. And please, don’t touch anything.” He hesitated, then gave an uncharacteristic smile. “If you hear a high-pitched warbling siren, just run like hell to this exit. It’s the only way in or out of Hydra Mountain.”
The cool tone in his voice made Adonia uncertain whether or not he was joking. Something told her he wasn’t.
8
On the other side of the second vault door, the long granite tunnels looked identical to what they had just left behind. “This is a giant maze,” Adonia muttered, “like in Dungeons and Dragons.”
“An entirely different kind of dragon in here,” Shawn said.
During her undergrad years at Texas A&M, majoring in nuclear engineering, many of her classmates had spent weekends on role-playing games, following imaginary adventures across graph-paper mazes and battling monsters with a roll of the dice. Some of her friends had harangued her to participate, not because she would have been a particularly skilled elven warrior, but because they wanted more young women in the game. Although she had joined in a few sessions, Adonia preferred to spend her scant free time swimming for recreation, getting exercise. Most of her hours, though, were consumed by her studies. Becoming a nuclear engineer wasn’t easy.
As the group walked along, they heard the hum of electric carts, louder tractor-crawlers moving both ways down the wide tunnel thoroughfare. Some of the crawlers had an extended cargo flatbed to accommodate the concrete casks the big trucks had just delivered. Yellow traffic lanes were painted on the sealed concrete floor, with a pedestrian walkway on either side.
“You’ll see much more activity inside the main areas, even though we have only a skeleton shift today.” Harris ushered them out of the way, carefully within the painted safety lines, as he pointed out some of the larger tunnels. “A quarter mile in either direction is a main, perpendicular passage that runs deep into the Mountain. The right-hand tunnel over there leads to storage vaults on this level, while the left tunnel descends to the lower level.”
Adonia frowned, unable to completely grasp the three-dimensional layout. Van Dyckman saw her expression and quickly said, “We’ll show you a diagram once we get into the operations center. You’ll see what he means.”
Harris waited until a cart hummed past, then led them across the tunnel to a metal door marked with a wooden sign: Hydra Mountain Ops Center. He opened the door and paused before entering. “The crew is expecting visitors, but I’d prefer that we continue the briefing up in my Eagle’s Nest office, where I can watch over the center.”
He led them inside the large chamber where dozens of men and women milled around desks and computer monitors with a sense of intensity and purpose. Stadium-sized displays covered three of the walls, showing live video grabs of canvas-covered flatbeds departing from nuclear sites across the country. Another screen showed a C-17 cargo plane taking off from an airport near the Idaho Nuclear Site; a third showed a train pulling railcars covered with gray tarps.
Analysis and diagnostic screens on the workstations were set next to tunnel monitors, showing views from cameras mounted in various places throughout the Mountain. Smaller graphic windows displayed radiation levels as well as ambient gas readings from sensors scattered around Kirtland AFB. One monitor showed a scrolling list, which Adonia realized was a running status of nuclear waste shipments leaving NRC and DOE sites—shipments she had always been prevented from making at Granite Bay.
Adonia was both amazed and incredulous at the extent of the operation, unable to believe she’d been kept out of the loop. How desperately had she needed this at Granite Bay! Van Dyckman must have intentionally left her in the dark. She glanced at Senator Pulaski. “You said this is the twelve-month review? You’ve been moving shipments into Hydra Mountain for the past year already?” She swung her gaze toward van Dyckman. “And nobody bothered to inform me it was happening?”
Obviously guessing her thoughts, Stanley flashed a satisfied smile, as if expecting her to applaud him. “The speed and efficiency of this program is remarkable. In just twelve months since Valiant Locksmith went fully operational, we’ve moved nearly fifteen percent of the backlogged high-level waste from the holding areas designated as the most hazardous to this safe and secure facility.” He looked proudly at her. “Believe me, Adonia, Granite Bay has always had one of the best-managed temporary storage areas—which is a good thing!—but that put you at the back of the line. The other, more risky sites were considered higher priority. They were in far worse shape.”
“But you’ve still asked me to build temporary holding pools at Granite Bay.” She had argued against it from the start. “If you knew this option—”
“Your new pools are only for the short term, six months at most. I knew we’d take care of the fuel rods soon enough. And even better, we’re accelerating the pace of waste movement!” Brushing aside her concerns, he pointed to a flashing red entry in a Gantt project-management chart on the main wall display. She knew how to read the complex charts and immediately noted a slip in a complicated logistics schedule. Stanley seemed to think it was a gold star. “That’s Granite Bay, Adonia. Your site was going to start shipping waste next week.”
Looking at the screens, all the shipments of nuclear waste being secretly moved from various sites across the country, Adonia couldn’t help but feel annoyed at her boss. “I’m the site manager of the largest nuclear power plant in the country. When were you planning to read me into Valiant Locksmith?”
Van Dyckman looked uneasy. “Actually, I’m not reading any site managers into the program; the others don’t know about it either. On your side of the business, only the NRC Chairman is cognizant of what we’re doing here.”
“But you’re shipping their high-level waste! Where do the other managers think it’s going?”
He shrugged. “The cover story is that the waste is being transported under the direction of Homeland Security because of the terrorist threat. The plane crash at Granite Bay made that explanation highly plausible. That lets us keep the shipments classified from the public, just like the movement of nuclear warheads. DOE tells them their waste is being transported to another, random location for secure distribution. Once it’s gone, it’s not their problem. And Granite Bay’s problems will be solved soon enough.”
“Pending the results of this review,” Harris cautioned. “The Senator has his oversight hearing on Wednesday.”
Garibaldi’s face darkened. “Well, pending a lot of things. The … scope of this is very disturbing. So much nuclear waste being moved around like radioactive chess pieces. I don’t deny that the present storage areas are accidents waiting to happen, but so is such a large-scale movement of nuclear waste.”
Van Dyckman said, “The casks are thoroughly shielded and they end up in a far more secure holding facility. It’s a win-win for everybody.”
“There are always unintended consequences,” Garibaldi said. “Nothing’s perfect.”
As if adhering to a rigid schedule, Harris led them through the operations center and up a short flight of stairs to a glass-lined office that overlooked the busy room. Adonia thought the name “Eagle’s Nest” was a good description for the upper-level office.
Harris waved them to an oval conference table in the center of the room. The Senator interrupted, “Where’s a phone? I need to check in with my staff. We should take a half-hour break before going any further.”
Harris’s expression fell at the prospect of a delay. “We were just getting started, Senator. There’s so much for us to review.”
Shawn smoothly interrupted, “We just need a few more hours of your time, Senator. It’s still Sunday morning, and I’m sure your staff can handle the office for the time being. We’ll get you access to a secure phone when we break for lunch.”
Pulaski looked disappointed, but Harris was anxious to begin his briefing. He produced a chart of the warren of tunnels and chambers inside the Mountain. “As you are aware, we have repurposed
the Mountain’s original nuclear weapons storage areas into vaults for high-level waste. We’ll spend the rest of the morning in the storage vaults on this level. The safety and security systems may look like overkill, but bear in mind that this place was built to store nukes, not waste, so we have an entire layer of existing defenses we’re exploiting, in addition to DOE’s upgrades. Hydra Mountain is considered adequate until such time as a truly permanent and acceptable solution is found.”
Garibaldi looked exasperated. “Best-case scenario is that will take decades! The issue isn’t even under active discussion, as far as I know.”
“Would you rather we waited until a genuine disaster occurs before we do anything?” van Dyckman asked, looking around the room and focusing on Undersecretary Doyle. “Right, Victoria?” She had remained quiet during the entire interchange, her arms crossed; Adonia thought she was out of her element.
Garibaldi remained calm and professorial. “Well, I would rather we devoted our efforts to emphasizing clean energy, which wouldn’t generate any more hazardous waste.”
The Senator was impatient. “Even if a fairy waved her magic wand and shut down every nuclear power plant today, we still have a hundred thousand tons of high-level nuclear waste piled up right now. Planting daisies and singing ‘Kumbaya’ doesn’t make it disappear.”
Not wanting the meeting to degenerate into a circular argument, Shawn interrupted. “Let’s tour the facility so you can see what we have here. In the debriefing afterward, we can discuss the merits and any shortfalls of Hydra Mountain as an alternative storage area. Agreed? We want your opinions and expertise. That’s why we brought you here.”
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