Omega Missile (Shadow Warriors)

by Bob Mayer

  Lugar picked up the crumpled fax sheet from the green where Hill had tossed it in his fury. Hill calmed down and was lightly tapping the head of the club on the carpet of grass. "I want the Agency to find Kilten. ASAP. And terminate him immediately before he does something stupid. Is that clear?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Good." Hill turned and walked back to tee off. Lugar flipped open his secure portable phone and began punching in numbers.

  Chapter Eight

  mckenzie looked into the pit the backhoe had dug. Aldrich was next to him. Kilten was in the pit, kneeling in the dirt next to a cluster of exposed cables. He'd spent twenty minutes using a specially designed saw to slice through the six inches of lead shielding encircling the cables. The scientist was now using a sophisticated-looking tool to cut through the black rubber shielding wrapped around a red cable.

  "I'm already through the anti-tampering shielding," Kilten said. "This last part is the EMP guard."

  "EMP guard?" Aldrich asked. There was an accent to his voice. Aldrich was French-Canadian, as were over half of the men McKenzie had recruited.

  Kilten continued working as he spoke. "Electromagnetic pulse. When a nuclear weapon goes off, it fries everything electronic that isn't shielded. We've spent billions putting special protection on our cables and equipment to guard against it."

  Aldrich shook his head. "You fucking Yanks. We didn't worry about shit like that in the Canadian army. Figured if the big boys started throwing the heavy stuff, our ass was grass."

  Through the shielding, Kilten attached leads from a laptop computer to the cable itself. "We have access into the LCC REACT. It will take five minutes for everything to shift over to my laptop, then we'll be ready." He looked up at McKenzie. "Tell the Sim Nuke team to be ready to initiate in about ten minutes."

  McKenzie flipped open his cellular phone and called Drake, giving the appropriate orders. Then he punched in a new number.

  *****

  Four miles away, on the banks of the Anaconda River, the call was answered by a man sitting in the cab of a Humvee. A large dump truck was parked directly behind it, off the side of a two-lane tar road. The road crossed the Anaconda on a sturdy steel and concrete bridge, the muddy waters gently flowing beneath the bridge's supports.

  "Bognar," the man answered the phone.

  "This is McKenzie. Put it on the bridge and arm the charges."

  "Roger," Bognar said. "Be with you in a few minutes."

  Bognar leaned out the window of the Humvee and waved. The driver of the dump truck threw it into gear and slowly drove onto the center of the bridge. He parked in the center, leaving one lane open. Opening the hood, he used a knife to cut through wires, making sure the engine wouldn't work. They had yet to see any traffic on the bridge except the pickup truck with the outgoing LCC crew earlier in the morning. That was to be expected since they were in the middle of a massive military reservation, off-limits to civilian traffic.

  The Anaconda flowed southeast until the banks of the river fell away and the waters merged into the bayous on the west of the Mississippi. The river separated Barksdale Air Force Base from some of the missile silos that were assigned to the base: the missiles controlled by the Omega Missile Launch Control Center. The next bridge over the Anaconda was fifty miles to the north.

  The driver from the dump truck came running back and climbed into the backseat of the Humvee. Bognar flipped open the cover on a small metal box. A light next to a single switch glowed green. "We're hot," he announced. He turned to a group of six heavily armed men, all wearing black fatigues and red berets gathered around the Humvee. "Take your positions."

  The men moved to a small rise overlooking the bridge and sighted their weapons. They had two M-60 machine guns, two Mark-19 40-mm automatic grenade launchers and two RPG-80 rocket launchers. Bognar picked up the phone and reported, "Bridge hot and covered."

  *****

  On the east side of the river, in the lead Humvee, Drake acknowledged a call from McKenzie. The six dump trucks were spaced out ten feet apart along the fence facing the flight line, the drivers crammed into the trail of two Humvees. "We're moving to secondary position," he told McKenzie. He opened his own small metal box and the light glowed green.

  "Sim Nuke is hot," he added.

  Inside each of the dump trucks, a receiver rested on top of a double row of stacked fifty-five-gallon drums. Wires ran from it to each drum. A light glowed bright green underneath the tarps that stretched over the top of the bed.

  Drake slid the cellular phone inside one of the many pockets on his combat vest and thrust his arm out the window. "Let's move," he ordered the driver. "There's enough explosives in those things to make a damn big hole in the ground. So let's go a little faster, please."

  *****

  The Blackhawk rolled down the runway, until the wheels slowly lifted from the ground. The pilots continued above the concrete runway, staying within the flight path as dictated by the Barksdale control tower until they reached the outer markers for the field, then they banked west.

  In the rear, Thorpe settled back in the crew chief's seat. As they cleared the edge of the airfield, Thorpe noted dump trucks lined up along the outside perimeter road. Tarps covered the back part of each truck. Thorpe leaned out and peered, trying to make out details but the chopper banked and the trucks were out of sight.

  *****

  "Showtime," McKenzie said, checking his watch.

  Kilten tapped the enter key on his portable computer and the screen rewarded him with:

  message sent

  Chapter Nine

  "verify emergency action Message," Major Parker tersely ordered as she reached over her shoulders and pulled the straps for her seat down and buckled them in, pulling the slack out. A red light was flashing and a nerve-jarring tone was sounding throughout the LCC. She locked down the rollers on the bottom of the seat. Then she hit the keys on her computer.

  "I have verification of an incoming Emergency Action Message," she announced.

  Lewis was reading his terminal. "I have verification of an Emergency Action Message."

  The screen cleared and new words formed. "Emergency action message received," Parker said. She pulled a sealed red envelope out of the safe underneath her console and ripped it open. She checked it against what was on the screen. "EAM code is current and valid."

  "Code current and valid," Lewis repeated, checking his own envelope.

  Parker's fingers flew over the keys. The blinking message on her screen cleared and new words flashed:

  EAM: Launch Omega Missile

  "EAM execution is to launch Omega Missile," Parker announced.

  "What about our warhead missiles?" Lewis asked.

  "REACT says we have orders for just Omega Missile. Give me the launch status of Omega Missile."

  "Omega Missile silo on line. Missile systems show green."

  New words formed on the computer screen. "I have confirmation from Barksdale emergency operations center that this is not a drill," Parker announced.

  Lewis frowned. "Shit, they could be pushing us. Seeing if we'll fail to launch."

  That had been Parker's first thought. "Everything says it's real. If it's a drill, we'll find out before we launch. Let's do our end. Open silo."

  *****

  Four hundred meters from the surface entrance to the Omega Missile LCC was another fenced compound. Inside the razor-wire topped fence, two massive concrete doors slowly rose until they reached the vertical position. Inside, a specially modified LGM-118A Peacekeeper ICBM missile rested, gas venting.

  *****

  "I've got green on Omega Missile silo doors," Captain Lewis announced, verifying what one of the video screens showed.

  "Green on silo," Parker confirmed.

  *****

  Kilten saw the confirmation of silo doors open on his laptop. He looked up at McKenzie. "Fortunately for us this cable goes both ways—to the Omega Missile LCC and also to the Emergency Operations Center for the 3
41st Missile Wing in the tower at Barksdale Air Force Base."

  McKenzie didn't say anything. His right arm was across his chest, his hand wrapped around the joint where flesh met metal on his left arm. His fingers were slowly rapping out a cadence, the first two giving a shallow thud on metal, then quieter as the last two hit flesh.

  Kilten typed a new command into the computer, then pressed the enter key. "Step two."

  *****

  The tower at Barksdale Air Force Base served two functions. In the top, air traffic controllers ran the day-to-day operation of the airfield itself. On the floor below the top, the duty staff for the 341st Missile Wing ran the day-to-day operation of the LCCs and missiles under their control. The duty staff also controlled the security reaction force responsible for safeguarding those LCCs and missiles.

  At the precise moment Kilten hit the enter key, alarms began going off and red lights flashed. The duty officer immediately gave the orders he had been trained to.

  "We have an incoming nuclear strike warning! Sound strike alarm. All personnel to the EOC bunker!"

  Everyone in the room immediately sprinted for the stairs except the duty officer and one enlisted man. The duty officer sat down at a computer terminal and quickly accessed his command link. Outside, Klaxons were going off and the few personnel on duty along the flight line this Sunday morning ran for bunker entrances.

  "We have no orders to launch," the duty officer announced. "Switching REACT computer to automatic." He turned a key and looked at the enlisted man. "Let's get out of here." The two fled the room and the tower was empty.

  *****

  Thorpe felt a pounding in his left temple. He reached into his pocket and pulled out several aspirin. His hand was shaking and one of the three pills fell onto the cargo bay floor and rolled back under a large cardboard box.

  "Damn," Thorpe muttered. He reached down and froze as he saw the tip of a new sneaker sticking out from under the cardboard. Thorpe pulled up the box and Tommy was sitting cross-legged on the floor, looking up at him with wide eyes.

  "You're not mad at me, are you, Dad?"

  *****

  At Barksdale, Lisa ignored the Klaxons as she ran out of the empty hangar, screaming for Tommy. A Security Policeman spotted her and paused in his own flight.

  "Ma'am, we have to get to a shelter," he yelled at her.

  "My son is in here somewhere!" Lisa yelled.

  "Ma'am, that's a strike warning. We have to take cover."

  "Not without my son."

  *****

  On board the Blackhawk, Thorpe had Tommy in the seat next to him and was talking through his headset to the pilots. "We have to go back to Barksdale," he said.

  "That's your son?" Kelly asked, twisting about in her seat. "He sure didn't inherit your ugly mug, Captain." She turned to the front and had the chopper banking and heading back the way they had come before Thorpe could think of a reply.

  "You're not mad at me, are you, Dad?" Tommy repeated.

  Thorpe put an arm around his shoulders. "No, son, I'm not mad."

  *****

  Inside the LCC there was controlled tension as the pair of officers ran down their checklists.

  "What's the targeting matrix for Omega Missile?" Lewis asked.

  Parker had already checked that information. Since the end of the Cold War, the United States and Russia had reached an agreement where all ICBMs would no longer rest in their silos targeted at each other's countries. Instead, the standing targeting information programmed in each warhead was for a site in the middle of an ocean, called a Broad Ocean Area. This was to prevent disaster in case of an accidental launch. In case disaster actually was desired and the missiles really had to be used in a conflict, a target matrix would be fed through REACT into each missile and they would be quickly reprogrammed with the new destinations for the warheads.

  "We don't have a target matrix," Parker said. "We're to launch Omega Missile with control accessed to MILSTAR through REACT. Whoever's left alive can program the targeting matrix once the missile is up."

  Parker knew that was one of Omega Missile's assets to the nuclear launch infrastructure. Omega Missile, once launched, could be used not only to launch but also to input target matrices to every ICBM and every other nuclear platform, including bombers, submarines, and even Red Flyer teams.

  "Let's stop yakking and get our missile up," she ordered. But even as she was saying the words, she looked up at the TV at the end of the row of security scenes. This last one showed CNN still coming in over the cable and there was no sign of any special report or trouble. As she was watching it, the screen went blank and then static refilled the tube. "We've lost cable," she announced. Parker picked up the phone. "Phone's down," she told Lewis. "I can't get landline verification."

  She put the phone down and looked at her computer screen. "We still have access to Barksdale on REACT. Still shows EAM verified and Omega Missile launch verified."

  Parker sat still for a few seconds. Lewis waited on her for the next command. When she spoke, it was hesitant, the flow of action finally slowing down. "That's enough to launch, but I'm going to check with the 20th Air Force in Cheyenne Mountain through MILSTAR to confirm launch."

  "We're supposed to launch with what we have," Lewis said.

  "I'm in command here," Parker said.

  "You're wasting time," Lewis replied, glancing at the clock.

  *****

  Kilten looked up at McKenzie. "Now!"

  McKenzie was waiting, cellular phone in hand. He spoke into it. "Initiate Sim Nuke!"

  *****

  Drake and his Humvee had crossed the bridge just two minutes earlier. He was parked a safe distance away from the bridge.

  Drake heard McKenzie's order and pushed the button. The green light went out and the red one lit.

  Six miles away, the line of dump trucks spaced out along the flight line fence disappeared in a massive explosion. The fence was blown away like a thin piece of paper in a strong wind. The blast wave flattened trees and roared across the flight line, destroying everything in its path.

  Over two million pounds of a special diesel fuel/ammonium nitrate composition went up in that split second. It had taken McKenzie and his men over a month to carefully buy that much ammonium nitrate in much smaller segments in nine different states throughout the south. Then Kilten had directed the loading and mixing of the composition in the trucks.

  Not only was there enough ammonium nitrate in the trucks to cause a massive explosion, Kilten had layered the tops of each pile with special chemicals to simulate the flash effect of a nuclear explosion. The entire thing was also configured to produce the trademark mushroom cloud of a nuclear bomb.

  Kilten had done this before—for the government at White Sands Missile Range. After the ban of nuclear testing, the United States had still needed a way to test equipment in a simulated nuclear blast. Sim Nuke had been the result and Kilten had appropriated it for his own purposes here.

  Bognar slapped a soldier wearing a red beret on the shoulder. "All yours, Mitchell."

  Mitchell nodded and walked back to the other five men overlooking the bridge as Drake and Bognar drove away to link up with McKenzie.

  *****

  Seven miles from the epicenter of the Barksdale explosion, Thorpe spun about as he heard a yell. A bright flash had blinded both pilots and Thorpe turned in time to see the blast wave rumbling toward the helicopter, a surge of pure energy, pushing debris along its forward edge. A mushroom cloud was rising behind the blast wave.

  "I can't see!" Maysun cried out.

  "Keep it steady," Thorpe said as the shock wave hit the helicopter. He wrapped both arms around Tommy and pulled him to his chest. The explosion hit the chopper head on.

  "We're going down!" Kelly yelled. "I've got the controls! Brace for impact!"

  The helicopter nosed over, hitting trees. The blades splintered branches and cut through the trunks of two large trees. One of the blades broke off and slashed through th
e pilot's side of the chopper.

  Thorpe had only one agenda: holding Tommy with all his might as the sound of metal ripping and tearing reverberated through the cargo bay. He was thrown from side to side but his seat belt held and his arms clung tight to his son.

  The chopper finally came to a halt, tangled in the wreckage of the trees it had crashed through.

  *****

  Inside the Omega Missile LCC, Parker and Lewis stared in stunned silence at the video image from the security camera on top of the silo closest to Barksdale Air Force Base. A mushroom cloud was rising over the horizon in the direction of the base.

  Parker slowly put down the satellite phone. They could feel the ground rumble from the force of the explosion.

  "Barksdale's been nuked!" Lewis exclaimed.

  Parker tore her gaze from the video. "We launch now!"

  *****

  In the hole, Kilten disconnected the computer. He took a pair of bolt cutters and severed the remaining cables. Then he climbed out and joined the others. McKenzie and his men were staring at the mushroom cloud.

  "It looks just like the real thing," McKenzie said, impressed for the first time today.

  "It should look like the real thing," Kilten replied. "It took us four years to develop after the testing ban went into effect."

  "In-fucking-sane," McKenzie muttered. Then he shifted his gaze back to the immediate area. "Let's get moving. They'll launch for sure now and we need to be ready."

  *****

  "To launch control," Parker ordered. Unlocking their seats, they both rolled along their respective tracks to the middle of the launch control room. The launch consoles faced each other but were separated by ten feet and a Plexiglas, bulletproof wall bisecting the room. A speaker in the wall allowed Parker and Lewis to communicate. They both locked their seats down in front of their respective consoles.