Silent Strike

by Francis Bandettini

  The attacks on the United States were intended to cripple the country and preclude it from intervening in its takeover of South Korea. The moment North Korea launched the ICBMs at the United States, they commenced their aggressive invasion of South Korea.

  They didn't nuke Seoul. They wanted to occupy it. Instead, they began firing conventional short-range missiles into South Korea. Most of their weapons were too impotent to reach Seoul. Only a few of the projectiles wreaked havoc and destruction in the city of 30 million. But, the barrage was short-lived.

  The South Korean, Japanese, and American response to North Korea was swift. Even before the AEGIS system intercepted missiles in space or the EMP detonated west of Seattle, the three allies unleashed missiles from their battleships sitting off the Korean Peninsula. Then, they sent their fighter jets screaming toward North Korea. As the fighters approached, they fired hundreds of cruise missiles at North Korean missile launchers and other military targets. About seventy percent of North Korea's army troops had been positioned within sixty miles of the border between North and South Korea, and they sustained heavy losses from the rockets that poured into that hotspot.

  New weapons, the CHAMP EMP drones, were deployed to unleash electromagnetic microwave signals and knock out the electronics in military command and control centers and disable all sorts of electric devices throughout Pyongyang—at least the ones not running on vacuum tubes or crude pre-integrated circuit electronics.

  U.S. Submarines launched their Trident II missiles. The nuclear warheads came down as bunker-busting tactical nukes to obliterate tunnels that hid North Korean troops and mobile missile launching systems.

  Munitions continued to pour in from the allies' battleships at sea. Redundant missiles pounded the known and suspected locations of North Korea's mobile nuclear missile launchers. For more than a year, classified American satellites had been keeping a real-time inventory of these launchers. The intelligence efforts paid off when the allies eliminated every nuclear missile threat during the first minutes of the war.

  When the B-2 bombers arrived with their payloads of missiles and bombs, they finished off the few conventional artillery and missile launchers that still threatened Seoul.

  But, there was one complete surprise for North Korea's leader. He had expected a nuclear response on Pyongyang, so he had ordered its millions of residents down into the deep subway system, which was also designed to double as a series of reinforced bunkers.

  He could not have been more wrong. The United States did not strike Pyongyang with a nuclear device or any other ordinances. However, they did continue to fly the CHAMP EMP drones throughout Pyongyang releasing the magnetic pulses. Most of their electrical devices were fried. Beyond the EMP drone, the South Koreans bombed water, sewer, and electrical plants that served the city. The result was a besieged and anxious populace.

  CHAPTER 32

  Gulf of Mexico

  "Troy, I'm traveling south on a heading of 178 degrees due south, and a velocity of 1,200 knots at 8,000 feet," Bojangles explained. "I'm in my F-22 on an intercept with a retired cruise ship—."

  "Tropical Solace!" interrupted Stoker. "We learned Nikolas recently purchased the boat through a shell corporation."

  "Yes. How did you find out?" Bojangles asked.

  "Nikolas divulged it during his fMRI exam. Then, I found the paperwork. How did you know?"

  "From Pensacola, we found its erratic behavior. Now it's traveling under the disguise of a cruise returning to Galveston. She's slipping into the Gulf of Mexico. The problem is, satellite images reveal a crew on the deck preparing something."

  "Say again?" Stoker requested. "I did not copy your last statement."

  "Check your phone, Troy. In about five seconds you'll be getting a message from a Commander Walker—a Navy guy. The picture is worth a thousand words." Stoker lifted his secure phone just as it vibrated. The message contained a satellite image of a typical cruise ship. Bojangles explained more. "In three minutes, I'm going to fly over Tropical Solace. I need to confirm what exactly is happening on that boat." A few seconds later, Bojangles yelled out. "Whoa, no way!"

  "What's going on?" Stoker asked.

  "I've got to deal with this right now," Bojangles said. "Pensacola just sent me an updated satellite image of Tropical Solace."

  "What are you talking about?"

  Bojangles ignored Stoker and toggled his communication over to Walker in Florida. "I want moment-by-moment updates on Tropical Solace. If anything changes on that ship, I want you to tell me about it."

  "Don't worry Bojangles," Walker said. "We'll give you every detail."

  "Okay," came the pilot's reply. "I'm about to make visual contact."

  • • •

  As Tropical Solace slipped through the Yucatan Channel and into the Gulf of Mexico, the team of engineers hastily readied the equipment on the Wanshan special transporter military vehicle. "We're ready Captain," the lead engineer radioed to the ship's captain. He responded by opening up the ship’s throttle and accelerating Tropical Solace to twenty-six knots. Every nautical mile counted. If he were detected by the United States Armed Forces, the captain wanted to be as close to the mainland as possible when he executed his mission. After ten minutes of acceptable operation, he accelerated the ship's engines again. The relatively empty boat quickened to thirty knots. And, she seemed willing to sustain the velocity.

  All over the world, the United States Navy was on high alert. It had been mere minutes since much of Oregon and Washington had plunged into the Dark Ages by an EMP from North Korea.

  Racing at Mach two plus, Bojangles broke through some clouds and visualized Tropical Solace. "Stoker, I have visual confirmation of a missile in the middle of the cruise ship standing upright. That baby's gonna liftoff. I'm engaging."

  "Copy that, Mr. Bojangles. I was just calling to let you know that I’m pretty sure this is the fourth and final stage of that psychopath’s plan.”

  “You know, your intuition is ahead of my logic. Yes, my feet run faster, and my clearance is higher than yours. But, you were right on, buddy.”

  • • •

  "Sixty seconds!" the ship's captain exclaimed. The numbers on a small digital readout continued to descend, one second at a time. "Congratulations, men. You are about to change the course of history and usher in God's will. The age of Sharia in the decadent West!"

  They cheered and celebrated the moment. But, as the countdown clock approached the last twenty seconds, they cut their exuberance short. The men scrambled away from the missile launch platform into the interior of the ship.

  • • •

  In his earpiece, Stoker started to hear a familiar song.

  Well, you don't know what

  We can find

  Why don't you come with me little girl

  On a magic carpet ride

  Bojangles's voice spoke over the Steppenwolf song. "We have liftoff. I'm at 10,000 feet. I've gotta take care of business." Stoker continued to hear Magic Carpet Ride coming through the radio from Bojangles cockpit.

  The missile shot into the air. Bojangles calculated the proper vector in his head and made a quick adjustment upward in his supersonic flight path. As he pulled through nine Gs, he almost fainted. "Stoker you bastard, you were right. And, tell my wife to name him Errol."

  He never felt the impact, saw the ball of white light, or heard the horrible explosion. The sky lit up with a burst—a colossal spray of fire. As the debris fell from the sky, there wasn't much left of Bojangles's plane or the missile he knocked out of the air. Colonel Bojangles did not hesitate to make the ultimate sacrifice. There was no decision, just an unselfish muscle-memory reaction.

  • • •

  "Give me a sitrep, Bojangles!" Stoker was almost shouting into the radio. But Stoker knew. There would be no reply from Colonel Bo Jansen. His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he answered it immediately.

  "Dr. Stoker, this is commander Michael Walker from Pensacola Naval Air Station. I was
just tracking and communicating with Colonel Bojangles as he flew out over the Gulf of Mexico."

  "I think we just lost a true American," Stoker said.

  "We did. But, we gained a hero," replied Walker. "One of the most important in American history." Walker paused for a moment before speaking again. "I'm looking at satellite data. Bojangles's collision did not set off the nuclear warhead. But they're picking up plenty of disbursed radiation from the debris plume. Metaphorically speaking, it turned out to be like a bullet intercepting a bullet. Based on the first few seconds of the missile's trajectory, we calculate it was meant to explode in space, not re-enter earth's atmosphere."

  "Another EMP," Stoker said.

  "Almost certainly," Walker confirmed. "The burst would've exploded over Kansas and kicked the rest of the United States back to the 1800s. And, can I share something else with you?"

  "What's that?" Stoker said.

  "Bojangles had missiles on his F-22. But, he was smart enough to know he did not have time to arm and fire his missiles. His airplane was the only weapon in position to intercept the missile—at least during those key seconds."

  "He did the math," Stoker said.

  "He went out in a blaze of mathematical glory," Walker said.

  "I'll suggest his family put that on his tombstone," Stoker replied. "I think he would've loved it."

  "It's truly amazing how he was able to hit that missile going at supersonic speed."

  "You know, he probably had the collision calculated to the last microsecond—how he was going to hit it," Stoker said.

  CHAPTER 33

  The United States East Coast

  NORAD had been watching the Russian Tu-95 bomber for the last hour. The lethal craft was flying over the Atlantic on course for the northeastern United States. At 300 miles from the United States Air Defense Identification Zone, and 450 miles from New York City, the Air Force scrambled fighter jets.

  The pilot had strict orders from Moscow to remain outside of American air space. "Decrease speed to 350 knots," he ordered. The six-man crew knew better than to ask questions, but their anxiety was palpable as they traveled toward the United States. The pilot was keeping all mission information to himself, as ordered.

  A radio signal arrived from Moscow. After hearing the entirety of the message, the pilot reacted. "Increase speed to 400 knots and open the bomb bay doors." According to his instructions, they would have a narrow window of opportunity to run a risky mission taking them within miles of New York City. He'd also learned their flight operation was not a recognizance mission, flyby, or drill. This was a true offensive. The Russian bomber carried a lethal payload of bombs. But, it had also been retrofitted to launch air-to-surface nuclear-tipped cruise missiles.

  At a point 250 miles from New York City, American F-16s showed up on the bomber's radar screen on a course destined to bring the Russian Bomber and American fighter jets into visual contact within a few short minutes.

  Then the pilot heard the command. "Otmenit!" came the order in Russian from Moscow. "Abort!" The pilot listened to be sure he'd heard correctly. "We repeat, abort the mission. You have strict orders to turn around and return to base." Suddenly the Russian bomber closed its bay doors, slowed its velocity, and made a sweeping turn to the Northeast.

  The Russian crew knew nothing of a brave American pilot, somewhere in the Gulf of Mexico, who had made the ultimate sacrifice. A collision between an F-22 and a nuclear missile arrested a chain reaction fated to dial back America and her technology to the Nineteenth Century. He also closed a window of opportunity for the opportunistic Russian president to exact irreparable damage to a country he considered his enemy.

  CHAPTER 34

  Walter Reed National Military Medical Center

  Bethesda, Maryland

  Ever since Troy had arrived, Allie Stoker's condition improved rapidly. They'd been weaning her from her ventilator. Today, the doctors were ready to take her off the machine—a ventilator respiratory therapists would quickly clean, sterilize, and put to good use on another patient in dire need.

  "Okay Mrs. Stoker," said the pulmonologist. "Just like we talked about. Take a deep breath and cough." The doctor gently pulled the tube from Allie's throat out through her mouth. Allie had an incredible tolerance for pain and discomfort. No distress graced her face. A look of serenity came over her after they put a simple oxygen mask over her mouth and nose.

  She tried to talk, but her vocal cords didn't work quite yet.

  "We know, Allie my love," Troy Stoker said. "The pain is nothing. You're just happy to be free of the machine."

  Allie nodded, closed her eyes, and laid her head back on her pillow. The worst was behind her, and a ski trip to the Rocky Mountains was in her future. For now, she was surrounded by her parents, sister, and husband. She was grateful to be alive and on the mend.

  That night, Allie was transferred out of the ICU and onto the medical floor. She was surrounded by soldiers who were patients, many of whom were also recovering from Guillain-Barre syndrome. The next day, Troy, her family, and Errol Rivera put her in a wheelchair. "Let's go visit Z," Stoker said. Troy wheeled Allie down a corridor and into a conference room. There, also in a wheelchair, sat Z with his girlfriend, Jessica.

  "Hey, Z," Allie said. "Fancy meeting you here in Bethesda, Maryland. It looks like you've lost some weight."

  "About thirty pounds," Z said. "Strange meeting you here, too. What do you have to do to get a beer around here?"

  A voice from the doorway said, "Today, we're only serving the wonderful fermented Mexican beverage, sotol."

  Everyone turned toward the door. Allie and Z were shocked to see the president of the United States, James Riddell, walking into the room, flanked by Secret Service agents.

  "Well, Mr. President, hello! And, I'll pass on the soltol," Z said. "What about you, Stoker?"

  "No soltol for me today, Sir," Stoker replied to the president. "I'm also not in the mood for tangerine juice."

  The president walked over to Allie and Z. "I can't tell you how happy it makes me to see both of you recovering." Then he pulled up a chair beside Allie and sat down to talk to her. "Mrs. Stoker, your husband is a hero. There's a long list of reasons he's a hero. Thanks to his efforts, we estimate he's prevented millions of people from going on ventilators. He helped millions of people infected with an amoeba called Balamuthia to get a medication they needed. And, he figured out who the mastermind of this whole bio-terror attack was. He captured him, interrogated him, and brought him to justice. Then, to top all that off, he helped identify a ship that was about to fire a final silent strike at the United States. Allie, I just want to thank you for having the wisdom to kick him out of the hospital a few weeks ago."

  "You're welcome, Mr. President," Allie replied. "Call it women's intuition or whatever you want. I just had a strong impression Troy was a bit conflicted. It was either the terrorists or me. I had to set him straight. And, since I was in a coma during the last few weeks, I'll need everyone to fill me in on the details. The hospital sedated me a few hours after you addressed the nation."

  Z chimed in. "I kind of checked out for a while, too. What did Allie and I miss?"

  The president made a suggestion. "Dr. Stoker, why don't you tell the story. I may have a few pieces to add. But, there is nobody who knows the details of these attacks like you do."

  For the next few minutes, Stoker filled Allie and Z in on events that had happened while they were in the hospital. Then he asked President Riddell if he had anything to add.

  "Here are a few particulars. The CIA had a—well, let's just call it a chance meeting—with Alireza Pour-Mohammadi, the bonyad director who was Nikolas's boss. Operatives extracted some fascinating information out of him. In any case, this plot goes all the way to the top. Both the Iranian president and the grand ayatollah were complicit with the bio attacks and the EMP strategic coordination with North Korea. Subsequently, the Air Force took out every single Iranian nuclear facility. Our military destro
yed much of their armed forces and crippled their government. I'm pleased to say collateral damage to the good people of Iran was minimal. The people of Iran are amazing, and we owe them all the protection and support we can give them. It's the leaders who are the cancer."

  "What about North Korea?" Allie asked.

  "We surprised them with how limited our strike was. We hit their weapons and military hard. But, we barely touched Pyongyang, and the populace there sure got out of hand quickly. We disabled their water and electricity. Within a few days, there was chaos. The Chinese army rolled into Pyongyang as peacekeepers and started handing out aid. Little did the North Koreans know, but a bunch of the food was from America. And, we just may have had a few CIA boys inserted with the Chinese peacekeepers.

  "The international community praised us for our relative restraint. That paved the way for us to ask China for some negotiation and nation-building help. The Chinese president stepped in and scolded the North Korean leaders like children. China's going to take it from here. North Korea doesn't get much choice. They get to stay socialist. But, there will be a new North Korean regime that is going to interject business and industry in much the same way China does. Say what you will about China; but I'll take the pro-business communists of today, over the Chairman Mao ideologues of the past. Mutually assured destruction was and is a difficult pill to swallow. I feel a lot more enthusiasm for mutually assured trade and transactions."