Mountainside
Dinaric Alps, Albania
The sweat poured down Jackson’s face. His clothes were soaked with perspiration.
“You said it was a little hike,” said Jackson to Grace in between breaths. “That was more like climbing Mount Everest in the dark.”
“If you hadn’t eaten so much for dinner and were a few kilos lighter, this wouldn’t have been so hard on you,” replied Grace dryly.
“Just give me a second to catch my breath, and then we can carry on.”
Grace looked over at Midori and told her to carry on up to the top of the mountain. With the sure feet of a mountain goat, Midori sprinted up the narrow path.
Jackson wiped the sweat from his face. “I thought you said before we left the restaurant that this area is patrolled by the Albanian army.”
“It is,” replied Grace. “However, tonight the local detachment on this side of the mountain is getting drunk, thanks to a couple of women I hired to keep the men distracted until tomorrow morning.”
“You think of everything.”
“I try,” replied Grace. “Now let’s get a move on. It’s only a few hundred more meters to the top of the mountain.”
“That’s what you said an hour ago,” muttered Jackson as he fell into line between Grace and Aleksandra.
Twenty minutes later, Jackson lay on his stomach. Below, the mountain base was lit up. Grace handed him a set of binoculars. Slowly scanning the installation, Jackson saw a tall metal fence, with rows of razor-sharp concertina wire on top, surrounding the entire airfield. Automated towers with bright searchlights and cameras dominated all of the open spaces. Inside the fence, armed guards patrolled the perimeter. It was better security than Jackson had seen at some nuclear weapons installations in the States.
“That place is guarded better than Fort Knox. I hope you’ve got a really good plan to get in there,” said Jackson to Grace.
Grace pointed to a guard tower at the base of the mountain. “That’s where we’re going in.”
“And just how do you propose we do that?”
“Aleksandra will stay up here to cover us and guide us in,” replied Grace. “Just after midnight, we make our way down the side of the mountain. The trees should mask us from observation the whole way down. When we get close, Midori will temporarily blind the surveillance tower with a laser while we make our way inside the complex.”
“Oh, and here I was thinking that this was going to be difficult,” said Jackson sarcastically.
“Don’t worry. I want in there just as bad as you do. I’m not going to do something that might get us both captured. I don’t want to end up with a couple of bullets in the back of my head any more than you do.”
Jackson could see that Grace had put some thought into getting inside the base. He lay there wondering if she put as much effort into their escape plan. He was about to ask her about it when he heard something that sounded like a propeller-driven plane fly right over their heads. Jackson rolled over on his back, grabbed a set of NVGs and looked up into the night sky. A couple of seconds later, Jackson swore.
“Do these people have a UAV?” he asked Grace.
“None that I’m aware of. Why?”
“Because a UAV just flew right overtop of us. If it doesn’t belong to Houston, then it probably belongs to Uncle Sam.”
“I guess your government is now aware of Houston’s little hideaway,” said Grace.
“Looks that way. Only right now I can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”
38
The Situation Room
The White House
Located below the West Wing of the White House, the Situation Room, originally built in 1961 during the Cuban Missile Crisis, was run by the National Security Council. Its sole purpose was to keep the president and his key advisors up-to-date on any potentially volatile situations developing at home or overseas. With the most advanced communications equipment in the world, the president could talk to any of his people anywhere in the world from the Situation Room without their conversation ever being monitored.
Almost to the minute, two hours after giving the order, President Kempt walked into the room. He sat down at his usual spot at the head of the table and looked out at the faces of the men and women in the room. There was no hint of panic. Instead, a calm, but serious, expression was etched on the faces of all of his key advisors. With him in the room were his vice president, his National Security Advisor, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the head of the CIA, and his attorney general. On such short notice, many regular members of the president’s National Security Council had been unable to make it back to the capital. They were, however, present on the many screens spread about the room.
“Okay, let’s get down to business. We all know why we’re here,” said the president, kicking off the meeting. “In order to deal with the very real threat of a Hellfire scenario, we must be prepared to act, and act decisively to neutralize this threat. Every minute we spend debating this issue is a wasted minute in my opinion. Therefore, I would like to ask General Patterson to outline any possible military scenarios he has to deal with this threat.”
Patterson cleared his throat and brought up a schematic of the base on one screen and an infrared picture of the mountain installation on another. “This image is being sent to us via a CIA UAV,” said Patterson. “It is real-time footage, and as you can all see this base is heavily fortified and well-defended. Already a robust structure less than a year ago, the mountain base’s infrastructure was substantially improved. It is doubtful that a conventional bomb could penetrate through the mountain and destroy the installation.”
“General, what about the GBU-43?” asked Dan Leonard.
“Dan, the Massive Ordnance Air Blast bomb has never been used in combat, and my experts tell me that the mountain is too thick for it to penetrate down into the installation,” replied Patterson.
“Okay then, what about a GBU-57 Penetrator bomb?”
“Same thing. It may penetrate the mountain, but fail to blast its way inside the base.”
Kempt jumped in. “Gents, correct me if I’m wrong, but even if one of those bombs managed to penetrate all the way into heart of the installation, there’s no guarantee that the resulting blast would completely eradicate the virus. We can’t afford for even so much as a single microbe to survive. If it got out into the air, there would be no way to predict how fast this unknown strain of anthrax would spread. No, gents, it all has to be destroyed in one massive strike.”
“What about the Albanian army?” said Roger Thomas, Kempt’s Attorney General. “Couldn’t they surround this place until we take it with Special Forces?”
Patterson shook his head. “A ground assault has already been ruled out as being too risky. It would take a battalion of well-trained soldiers to storm that place, and even if they could get inside, there’s no guarantee that the anthrax wouldn’t be released into the air before we could take possession of it.”
Kempt said, “General Patterson’s right. The strike must be from the air, and it must be decisive. There can be no margin for error.”
“Sir, I hope you’re not proposing that we use nuclear weapons,” said the Secretary of State on a screen near the president.
“I hope not, but I want to keep my options open. No matter how horrible they may be,” replied Kempt.
Patterson leaned forward and looked over at Kempt. “Sir, we may have a non-nuclear option that will destroy the base and the anthrax.”
“Go on.”
“Sir, we can use thermobaric bombs to destroy the installation and everything in it.”
Anne Hook interjected, “General, I thought you said that you couldn’t blast your way through the mountain. How will this missile destroy the base and the anthrax without it escaping into the air?”
“Anne, we won’t go through the mountain. Instead, we’ll go in through the front door. We can punch a hole through the base’s blast doors with a couple of laser-
guided Paveway bombs. Once the doors are out of the way, we’ll hit the base with two thermobaric bombs. The blast from the thermobaric devices will travel in excess of three kilometers a second. In the blink of an eye, the flames will reach a temperature of over five thousand degrees, incinerating absolutely everything inside the base.”
“What about airtight compartments? Will these themobaric bombs destroy them as well?” asked the president.
“Sir, the pressure wave from the blast will crack them open like eggs; less than a second later, anything and anyone inside those rooms will be incinerated,” replied Patterson.
“The schematic of the base shows that it has multiple levels,” said the vice president. “How can you be sure that you’ll destroy everything underground as well?”
“Sir, the pressure wave created by a single bomb would be more than sufficient for our needs. However, to ensure that the anthrax is one-hundred-percent eradicated, we’re going to hit the base with two bombs,” replied Patterson.
Vice President Grant looked over at Hook. “Anne, I see that there are about a dozen Learjets sitting on the airfield. They can’t all be Houston’s.”
“No sir, in fact, they belong to some of the richest and most influential business leaders in the world,” answered Hook. “Before anyone asks, our missing Learjet is not among those planes. If it’s there, it’s hidden inside the base away from prying eyes.”
A murmur coursed through the room.
“What are the chances of anyone surviving the blast?” queried Grant.
“None,” replied Patterson soberly.
If the thought of killing people who might have nothing to do with the threat bothered Kempt, his stone-faced visage didn’t show it. “General, just how do you plan to deliver these warheads?”
“I can have the required munitions moved to Ms. Hook’s CIA base in Bulgaria in a matter of hours,” replied Patterson. “Once there, two Predator UAVs can be made ready in less than an hour.”
“Flight time to the target?” asked Grant.
“One hour,” said Patterson, after a quick check of his notes.
President Kempt pursed his lips and rhythmically drummed his fingers on the desk for a moment. Fixing his gaze on General Patterson, he said, “General, put your plan into operation. I want to be told the minute the UAVs are ready to take off from their base in Bulgaria.”
“Very good, sir,” replied Patterson.
Hook nodded in agreement, as the people who were about to pull off the strike were actually hers.
“Is there a contingency plan in case this one fails?” asked Vice President Grant. He was an old political hand. He wasn’t going to quit asking questions until he knew that every angle had been considered and that the president wouldn’t be left with a potential worldwide catastrophe on his hands.
Patterson said, “Sir, the fighter wing in Aviano will be in support. If the UAVs fail, they will be prepared to strike the base using a mixture of conventional bombs, such as bunker buster bombs, and incendiary munitions that will, hopefully, destroy the installation and the anthrax.”
Grant nodded his concurrence.
“Sir, what about the Albanians; when do you plan to inform their president?” asked the Secretary of State.
“Not until the UAVs are about to enter their airspace and not a minute before,” replied Kempt. “We can’t afford for any of this to get out until we’re ready to strike.”
Kempt stood, immediately followed by everyone else in the room. “Okay folks, there’s a lot of work that needs to be done in a few short hours. I won’t keep you from it.” With that, he and Vice President Grant left the room.
Patterson and Hook instantly relayed the necessary orders for the strike to their people. In the back of the room, Leonard’s military aide, Colonel Harriman, waited quietly for the right moment to leave his boss’ side. He had the most important phone call in his life to make.
39
Jail cell
Underground bunker
“That’s not going to work,” Sam said to Mitchell as he twisted the slender piece of a plastic fork that had come with their supper meal inside their cell’s lock.
With a loud snap, Mitchell’s utensil broke in his hand.
“I told you. The lock is far-too-well-built to be picked by a plastic fork.”
Frustrated, Mitchell turned around and looked over at his friends. Jen was dozing on one of the beds while Yuri, Sam, and Cardinal sat at the table staring at him.
“I had to try something,” said Mitchell. “If we don’t get out of here in the next few hours, we’re as dead as everyone else.”
“Mister Mitchell, what did you mean by that?” asked an unseen person.
Turning around, Mitchell saw Owen Houston walk in front of the iron bars of the cell.
Mitchell could see the fatigue and confusion in Owen’s blue eyes.
“I’m surprised that your uncle let you out of the briefing room,” said Mitchell. “I take it all of the other members of the creepy billionaires’ club are still there under guard.”
Owen shook his head. “I’m family. I’m free to go where I please. In fact, my uncle asked me to come down here and see if you had made up your mind about joining him.”
“You know the answer to that,” replied Mitchell firmly.
“Yeah, I guess I do.”
“Owen, I’m surprised that he bothered to send you to see us at all. You do realize that he’s never going to be held accountable for what he is about to do. If he hasn’t already, your uncle is going to leave an electronic breadcrumb trail straight to your doorstep. If you survive the coming holocaust, you’re the person who’s going to take the fall for the death of billions.”
Owen’s face blanched. He looked like he was going to be sick.
“You know I’m right, don’t you?”
“No, I don’t,” stammered Owen.
“If you don’t believe me, find a computer and access your company’s financial records. If they’re the same as they were the day before you left home, then I’m wrong; however, if they’re not, you’ll know that I’m telling the truth.”
“And if you are telling the truth, then what?”
Mitchell stepped forward until he was nearly at the bars. Looking deep into Owen’s eyes, he said, “Then you figure a way to get us the hell out of here. We’ve only got a few hours left to stop your uncle. I’m not sure how he’s going to do it, but he plans to kill everyone here and escape with the virus.”
Owen stood there, hesitating.
“Do it!” snapped Mitchell.
Shaken, Owen staggered back, turned on his heel, and hurried out of the room.
Cardinal said, “Jesus, Ryan, I thought the poor bugger was going to pee himself when you raised your voice to him.”
“He needed a good swift kick in the pants to get moving. You can see it in his eyes; he’s clearly conflicted. He doesn’t want to believe his uncle is capable of cold-hearted murder and betrayal.”
Sam said, “Can we trust him?”
“Do we have a choice?” replied Mitchell.
“If he does come back, then what?” asked Yuri.
“Then we pray that Nate is nearby and has hatched a plan to get us out of here,” said Mitchell. “I, for one, don’t want to be here when the clock runs down. Whatever Houston has planned, I’m sure it’s going to be a horrible way to go.”
Several floors above, David Houston sat at his desk sipping a cup of coffee. It was a mix of his favorite Hawaiian and Colombian beans. He glanced over at the clock on the wall and saw that he had three hours left before he put his plan in motion. A lifetime of work came down to these fleeting few moments in time.
There was a knock at his door.
“Come in,” said Houston.
McMasters entered the room. “Sir, our contact in Washington has confirmed that a strike on the base is imminent.”
“How soon?”
“He anticipates that we have two hours before the UAVs leave
their base in Bulgaria. After that it’ll be another hour before they’re in a position to launch their missiles.”
Houston smiled. The information leaked to the CIA by one of his people had triggered the anticipated response from the U.S. government, down to the minute. “Very well then, have the anthrax loaded up in the trucks. Nothing of value is to be left behind.”
“What about Mitchell and his people?” asked McMasters.
“Regrettably, I doubt that he’ll ever see things our way,” replied Houston. “When you’re done loading the trucks, you can kill them.”
McMasters grinned and turned to leave, when a phone on Houston’s desk rang.
Houston answered the call. A sour look crept across his face. After setting the phone down, he looked up at McMasters. “That was the control room. It would appear that someone has been busy reviewing my financial records. Please send some men to find Owen and have him brought to me. Unharmed,” stressed Houston.
“Yes, sir,” said McMasters as he left the room.
Houston reached into a pocket and pulled out a small tin of mints. He popped one in his mouth and stared over at the clock. Although it pained him, he had always planned for Owen’s body to be found a few days from now, hanging from a rope in a hotel room, in order to deflect the blame onto someone else. A suicide note in his handwriting would tell the world how he had unleashed a horrible disease, and then had been unable to live with the consequences of his actions. Houston, however, changed his mind and decided that Owen would now be found on a dirt road outside of the base having blown his brains out. Either way, the blame would fall squarely on his nephew’s shoulders. Owen’s children would become his new heirs.
His legacy would live on.
40
The Base
Grace raised a hand and slowly got down on one knee. Bringing up her pistol hand, she took aim down the narrow trail. A moment later, a young wild boar came trotting down the path. With a snort, the boar looked up at Grace, turned around, and ran back the way it came.
Hellfire Page 25