The Line

by Bob Mayer

  "Yes, sir."

  As Admiral Hancock turned to give the order, the E-4B reached 10,000 feet of altitude. The air pressure indicator on the detonator of the bomb Skibicki had relocated to the E-4B's in-flight refueling inlet did what it was designed to do and exploded the dual blasting caps set into the ten pounds of C-4.

  Those inside had a brief moment to wonder what the cause of the loud popping noise was before the explosion reached the auxiliary fuel tanks just above the main fuselage, and the entire aircraft became one large fireball.

  7:54 a.m. LOCAL/1754 ZULU

  "Our link is down with Looking Glass!" the SHARCC executive officer yelled. "She's gone!"

  "What the hell?" the captain exclaimed. He tore his gaze from the sonar screen. Whatever the contacts had been, they were now too close to be picked up. The large contact was stationary off their starboard bow, about 1,000 meters away.

  An alarm screeched. "Torpedo lock!" The counter-electronics officers yelled, indicating that the large contact had locked in a torpedo homing signal on their hull.

  "Have they launched?" the captain demanded.

  "Negative, just the lock."

  The captain had no idea what was going on, but whatever it was, none of it was in the intricate plan he'd been briefed on.

  The SHARCC shuddered as an explosion reverberated through the hull. "Status!" the captain screamed. "I thought you said they hadn't fired!"

  "We've got a breach in number three and four swim locks forward," the damage control officer reported. He looked up. "It wasn't a torpedo. Someone's at the hatches. We're being boarded."

  The SHARCC captain drew his pistol and gazed at the corridor leading to the front of the submarine. There was a chatter of automatic fire, then dead silence. The captain pointed his weapon at the hatch.

  He never got a chance to shoot as the first Navy SEAL came through the hatch firing.

  7:54 a.m. LOCAL/1754 ZULU

  Hooker leaned back in his wheelchair and sighed. The members of the staff were scurrying about, yelling into portable Satcom radios. Except nothing was happening, all communication with Looking Glass and the SHARCC was down. He could see for himself that the memorial was still intact and if he squinted, he could make out the figure of the President behind the podium, still speaking.

  There was the sound of a shot on the first floor and all the men froze, looking at one another in confusion. Hooker was ignored as four men dressed in black swung down from the roof on rappelling ropes, landing on the balcony. They fired long sustained bursts from their silenced weapons into the room, killing all inside. Over a hundred years of military experience died in those seconds. Hooker's bodyguards fought back and two of the men went down, but a second wave followed and the sheer number of the attackers overwhelmed Hooker's men.

  It was over in twenty seconds. Three black-clad men and one woman—Hooker could tell by her figure—were still standing. Everyone else other than Hooker was dead.

  The leader of the men turned to the old man and pulled up his black balaclava. "General Hooker."

  "Major Keyes," Hooker nodded in return. "We wondered where you had gone. We haven't heard from you in six months." He looked beyond, at the bodies strewn about the room and the shattered radios. His staff was now gone. There was no one left but him.

  Keyes shifted the lever on the side of his MP-5 to single shot. "You've failed, you know that, don't you?"

  "I did my duty to my country to the best of my ability," Hooker replied. "I lost this battle, but there is a bigger picture." His right hand was under the blanket covering his lap.

  "Enough macho bullshitting," Vasquez called out. "Let's finish it."

  Hooker's blanket shredded as he pulled the trigger of the silenced Ingram MAC-10 concealed there. At 1,100 rounds a minute, the thirty-round magazine was completely emptied in under two seconds.

  The shocked look on Keyes's face was gratifying to Hooker as the major staggered back under the impact of bullets. Hooker's right hand flicked a switch on the left arm rest and Claymore mines that had been wired into the ceiling exploded, spraying the other side of the room with thousands of tiny pellets. The rest of Keyes's team and Vasquez died in the blast.

  7:55 a.m. LOCAL/1755 ZULU

  The roar of the F-16s built to a crescendo and the missing man formation flew by overhead. The bosun's whistle on the Antietam blew across the water and the crew saluted in unison.

  A lone bugler standing on the end of the memorial put his instrument to his lips and began playing Taps, a tune written by Major General Butterfield, West Point class of 1839, the soulful sound echoing through the hearts of the men standing at rigid attention. On the faces of some of the survivors tears flowed despite all the years that had passed. Tears for their young comrades in arms who had not known the blessings of the past fifty-four years.

  CHAPTER 28

  PEARL HARBOR, HAWAII

  7 DECEMBER

  8:40 a.m. LOCAL/1840 ZULU

  A dark hole beckoned in the bright blue water, and Skibicki's fins disappeared into it. Boomer hesitated for a second, then followed. His compass told him they were on the east side of the harbor, which meant they were near the sub pens at Pearl.

  The hole narrowed to a tunnel six feet in diameter. Dim, underwater lights lit the way, showing pitted concrete walls, slowly sloping up. Boomer surfaced in a chamber about twenty feet square with a wooden dock on one side. He slipped off his fins and joined Skibicki on the deck.

  "Where are we?" he asked as he took off his tanks and weight belt.

  "This is the dive area for NAVSPWRGP One," the sergeant major replied, referring to the Navy special warfare group at Pearl. "We're right next to the sub pens. They use this to get out into the water without being seen, which they occasionally have to do for training. It was actually built in World War II as a service duct for the sub pens, but since the pens were expanded in the other direction and upgraded, this whole area was given to the SEALs." Skibicki pointed at a metal door. "This way. There are some people I want you to meet."

  Skibicki twisted the hatch and swung the door open. On the other side a large room beckoned lit by halogen lamps. Several radio sets were operational along one wall, and a large table was in the center of the room with maps spread out on it.

  There were numerous men in the room, but Boomer's eyes fastened on the lone woman with the large white cast on her leg seated at the conference table. He ran across the concrete floor and skidded to his knees, wrapping Trace in his arms.

  For several minutes he simply held her, head buried in her shoulder. When he finally pulled back, he smiled as he looked into her eyes. "What the hell happened to you?"

  "Just some minor problems. I'm all right." She looked over his shoulder. "You'll be surprised to see who's here."

  Boomer followed her gaze and stiffened as he spotted the familiar figure of Colonel Decker. At the radios he recognized Lieutenant Colonel Falk and Colonel Coulder. Boomer turned to Sergeant Major Skibicki who had followed him over. "Who are these people?" Boomer asked. He pointed. "That's Decker. He's the one who ordered the mission into the Ukraine."

  Skibicki laid a hand on Boomer's arm. "We're getting ready to brief General Maxwell. You and Trace need to hear this too, because it's the only time this story is going to be told other than when Maxwell relays it to the President. I really don't know all that's happened either, so bear with us."

  Boomer looked back at Trace. "Are you all right?"

  "Yes."

  "Do you know what's going on?"

  "Not yet." Trace ran her hand up his arm. "I missed you."

  Boomer took her hand and wrapped his fingers tightly around hers. "I'm glad you're back."

  Colonel Decker went straight to the head of the table. He didn't acknowledge Boomer's or Skibicki's presence other than with a curt nod. "What's our status?" he asked Falk, who had a headset held up to one ear.

  "Looking Glass is down. SEAL Team Three has the SHARCC secure. We haven't heard from Task Force
Reaper yet," Falk succinctly reported.

  "Will someone tell me what is going on?" Boomer demanded.

  "Major Watson," Decker said, holding up a hand. "Have some patience. All your questions will be answered in a few minutes. Right now I'm trying to get the information together so that I can answer them."

  In confusion, Boomer slumped down in the chair next to Trace as General Maxwell was escorted to the chair next to him.

  Decker spoke into the radio and seemed perturbed at the lack of answer. Reluctantly, he faced the senior ranking military man in the room and saluted. "General Maxwell, what you are about to hear must be relayed to the President and that is why we asked you to come here this morning," Decker said.

  "No one asked me a damn thing," Maxwell said, returning the salute angrily.

  "We apologize for some of our methods, but as we explain I think you will understand the reasoning behind our actions," Decker continued. "First, let me give a little background. The Line has been in existence for over seventy years. We," he said gesturing about the room, "have been fighting them for the last five of those years."

  "Who is we?" Maxwell asked.

  "Members of the Special Operations community," Decker answered vaguely.

  "And who elected you to this job?" Maxwell asked.

  "No one elected us," Decker said. "We have been trying to do what was right and—"

  "The right thing would have been to expose The Line as soon as you were aware of its existence," Maxwell cut in. "That is what your oath of office and your sense of duty would have required."

  "Yes, sir, you are correct," Decker said. "Unfortunately, I became aware of the existence of The Line over twenty years ago on Ring Weekend as a cadet at the Academy when I became a member of the organization. I only turned against it five years ago, and by then I was already too far involved to be able to walk away or expose it."

  "For a long time, I thought I was doing the right thing. It was only in the late eighties, after a good friend of mine was killed by The Line, that I changed my convictions. It has taken years to gather together a few men that I could trust in order to accomplish what we did today."

  Decker then proceeded to relate the story of the fight between the Special Operations community and the regular Army for the past several decades.

  "After the death of the 1st Ranger Battalion commander, Colonel Bob Kelly, one of my roommates from West Point," Decker continued, "there were certain people in Special Operations who realized that The Line was a threat that went beyond intra-service animosity. I knew—because I was on the inside—that The Line had caused Bob's death and the cover-up of the crash of his Blackhawk at Eglin. I approached a few people, and we began watching and waiting."

  "We didn't know about Colonel Rison having the diary, but we did know about the events at Nha Trang where he had been arrested and we knew that the war between the regular forces and our forces was continuing."

  "Even then there was no consensus on action to be taken. That is until we discovered that The Line was plotting against the President. At that point, we no longer felt we had an option. We had to act."

  "Since I was already on the inside it was felt that it was best if I continued to play my part. Major Keyes also was on the inside and turned against The Line when he heard what I had to say after I approached him at Fort Benning. In fighting The Line we had the support of many people within the Special Operations forces," Decker said. "Otherwise today would have turned out much differently than it did."

  "I understand all that," General Maxwell said, "and your story is very interesting, but please tell me what is going on right now."

  "General Martin and the Army, Air Force, and Navy Joint Chiefs of Staff are dead," Decker said. "Their E-4B command and control aircraft was destroyed by a bomb less than an hour ago forty miles southeast of Oahu."

  "You're joking!" Maxwell said.

  "No, sir, I'm not."

  "You killed them," Maxwell said.

  "We transferred a bomb they had placed on board Air Force One onto their E-4B. I prefer to think they killed themselves. They were preparing to take over all satellite media in the United States after the death of the President and declare martial law. It was thought best they not have that opportunity."

  He looked Maxwell in the eyes, and Maxwell nodded for him to continue. "General Hooker, the man who has been in charge of The Line—and the members of his staff, the controlling committee of The Line—should be dead. That was Major Keyes—Task Force Reaper's—responsibility at the VIP quarters a quarter mile away from where we are right now. Unfortunately we haven't heard from Major Keyes yet."

  "What about The Line?" Maxwell asked.

  "It will wither and die," Decker said. "Hooker has been the brain for The Line for the past fifty years. Without him and the influence he exerted through the Joint Chiefs, The Line is finished."

  "Wait a second," Boomer said. "I don't understand what's going on. Why was I involved and—"

  "We knew The Line had a plot against the President," Decker interrupted. "So we had to come up with a plan to foil them." He rubbed his forehead, as if trying to figure out the best way to tell the story. "All right—let me back up and tell you first what The Line had planned. Then you will see why we had to do what we did."

  "Between the MRA, the recent budget cuts, the cancelling of Hard Glass, the events in the Ukraine and Turkey . . ." Decker paused. "Well, I could go on and on, but to cut to the chase. The Line—and many other people— have not been very happy about the direction the country is going in. The difference is that The Line does something about it when they don't like the way the country is going. And usually something illegal."

  "There were many small incidents—the raid into the Ukraine that Major Watson participated in for example—that were done to embarrass this administration and try to manipulate policy. Unfortunately—or fortunately, depending on whose side you're on—those efforts didn't work."

  "The MRA passing Congress was the final straw, so to speak. General Hooker didn't think it had a snowball's chance in hell of getting Congressional approval but the President won that round. Hooker didn't want to wait around and take his chances with the Senate. He decided to take action and this trip by the President to Hawaii played right into his hands. As you could tell by Hooker's diary, The Line has a history of acting drastically against presidents if necessary."

  "Their primary plan was to kidnap the President when he attended the command and control exercise aboard the SHARCC. When that was canceled, they went to their secondary plan which was to kill the President this morning on the Arizona Memorial with a torpedo fired from a Mark IX swimmer delivery vehicle."

  "How did they think they could get away with that?" Maxwell demanded.

  "The SDV that was to fire the torpedo was delivered offshore by a Barbel Class submarine that we captured from Iraq during the Gulf War back in—''

  "Wait a second," Boomer said. "What about the Sam Houston?"

  Skibicki answered that. "The Sam Houston is further offshore—but it is under our control. We had to be prepared to stop all The Line's plans. The SEALs on board the Sam Houston were ready to take over the SHARCC and save the President if he had gone through with the C&C exercise."

  "For foiling the secondary plan, we were relying on Sergeant Skibicki, whom you assisted in doing just that this morning. The Barbel Class Iraqi sub was carried by the Glomar Explorer, which also does resupply for the SHARCC. The Line's plan was that they would let the wreckage of the Barbel sub be found after counter-submarine actions by the Navy. Thus the destruction of the memorial and death of the President could be laid at Iraq's doorstep, which would kill two birds with one torpedo so to speak."

  "You deceived me," Boomer said, looking at Skibicki. "You told me the Houston was moving in to shore."

  "I only found out about that yesterday," the sergeant major said. "And we had to stop the SDV off the Iraqi sub which was moving in. Vasquez found all that out. I didn't have time
to get into all this. What I told you was essentially the truth."

  "Their third plan," Decker continued quickly, "was to destroy Air Force One with an altitude-detonated bomb. This was a backup in case the other two plans failed and the President attempted to depart the island alive. We were not aware of this plan. It was just fortunate that Sergeant Major Skibicki discovered and followed the men from the Barbel Class sub who infiltrated Hickam and planted the bomb on board Air Force One two nights ago. He retrieved it and placed it aboard Looking Glass."

  "We have since discovered that The Line's cover for that action was to be an attack by long-range Iraqi bombers. Again captured during the Gulf War. The two F-16s that fly security for the President were to be flown by pilots loyal to The Line. Not too hard to find after the events in the Ukraine last week. They would swear to the attack by Iraqi planes, which they would have destroyed, when in reality the bomb would have destroyed Air Force One."

  "The Barbel sub is currently being tracked down by the Sam Houston and will be captured shortly. The SHARCC is under our control. It was boarded by Navy SEALs from the Houston at the same time Looking Glass was destroyed. The two pilots are also in custody and the two Iraqi bombers are also under our control."

  "My God," General Maxwell exclaimed. "These people were insane."

  "No, sir," Decker said. "They were desperate." He looked at Boomer. "And we were desperate also."

  "You ordered me to kill Americans," Boomer said staring hard at the colonel.

  "The mission you did into the Ukraine was done under direct orders from General Martin. I knew it was a setup designed to work against this administration. But I had to go along with it or else expose my role as a double-agent. Like I said, we knew they were planning to kill the President here in Hawaii, and I had to continue playing my part until we could directly attack and destroy The Line and save the President."

  "The Coventry excuse," Boomer said. His voice was bitter. "For the greater good, right?"