Overkill pr-1

by James Barrington

  ‘We’re established at SITE R, Mr President. Any news?’

  ‘Nothing yet,’ the President said. ‘Karasin and the Kremlin know where I am.’ He paused. ‘I just get the feeling they’re going to go all the way on this one.’

  There was a brief silence on the line. ‘Mr President, in my judgement you’ve been right about most things since you took office, but this time I really hope you’re wrong.’

  Autoroute A26, vicinity of Couvron-et-Aumencourt, France

  ‘What time will you begin the assault?’ Simpson asked.

  ‘That depends upon what we find when we get there,’ Richter said, ‘and will in any case be decided by the SAS officer in charge. My guess, for what it’s worth, is the early hours of the morning.’

  ‘Anything else?’ Simpson asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Richter said, and fished a scrap of paper out of his wallet. ‘General Modin was very insistent that I noted down a Russian word. The word is Krutaya.’ Richter spelt it out.

  ‘What does it mean?’

  ‘If I knew that,’ Richter said, ‘I wouldn’t be asking you. I’ve no idea if it’s the name of a person, a place or even a description of something. Modin won’t explain it further.’

  ‘Can’t you lean on him?’ Simpson asked.

  Richter thought for a moment. ‘No,’ he said, finally. ‘I don’t think I can. He’s been far more co-operative over this matter than we had any reason to expect, and this is too public a place to start applying much pressure. Also, I think it might be useful in the future to have established fairly friendly relations with a senior SVR general.’

  ‘Agreed,’ Simpson said. ‘So, what do you want us to do about Krutaya?’

  ‘Find out anything you can,’ Richter replied. ‘Run it through our computers, and do the same with the SIS and MI5 databases. Try GCHQ and the CIA, FBI, DIA and NSA systems. It must mean something to someone, somewhere.’

  ‘What priority is that?’ the ID asked.

  ‘Very high. Modin insisted that it is central to this operation, and that makes it very urgent. Don’t forget,’ he added, ‘disarming the Gibraltar weapon doesn’t solve our problem – it just buys us a little more time. We’ve still got to stop Podstava.’

  Camp David, Maryland

  ‘Mr President. It’s time, sir.’

  ‘Right.’ The President glanced at his watch, then got up from the chair where he’d been sitting reading a series of intelligence briefs forwarded from the CIA at Langley. He beckoned to the Marine Corps major and walked across to one of the secure consoles. The Secretary of Defense was already on the net when the President put on the headphones. ‘Do we need to discuss SIOP options?’

  ‘I really don’t think so, Mr President. What we’re doing isn’t responding to any kind of a first-strike, which is what SIOP is intended to counter. The Russian weapons are already here, primed and in place, and there isn’t anything we can do about them. I think our only possible response, if the Russians don’t back down, is total retaliation. We’ve got to be prepared to fire everything we’ve got at them, and make sure they know it.’

  ‘They know it,’ the President said. ‘I’ve explained it to Karasin twice already. So, what’s the immediate next step?’

  ‘We need to brief USStratCom Command Center to increase the alert state of the ICBMs. Pretty much everything else has been done, as far as I know.’

  ‘What are they at now?’

  ‘Alert Twenty. They should be moved up to Alert Five in stages over the next two hours. I recommend going to Alert Fifteen now.’

  ‘Agreed. I’ll send the codes.’

  On a command from the President, the major opened the black attaché case and extracted the Gold Codes. The President selected the code he needed and instructed that it be transmitted to USStratCom Command Center as an Emergency Action Message from the National Command Authority.

  Autoroute A26, vicinity of Couvron-et-Aumencourt, France

  The Aldermaston group – five scientists and three bomb-disposal specialists in a Leyland Sherpa minibus, plus two Transit vans containing their equipment – arrived at seven twenty, after having been halted by the gendarmes guarding the closed section of the autoroute for ten minutes while they sought approval from Lacomte to let them through. They drove the wrong way down the autoroute, on the northbound carriageway from the Courbes junction to the rest area, and pulled up next to the Russian articulated lorry.

  They clambered out of the minibus and stood looking with interest at the Russian vehicle. As Richter walked over to them, a stooping grey-haired man – presumably the senior scientist – detached himself from the group and ambled over to meet him.

  ‘Are you in charge here?’ he asked.

  ‘I suppose I am more or less keeping up the British end,’ Richter said.

  The scientist extended a hand. ‘Dewar,’ he said, ‘like the Scotch. Professor Dewar, Aldermaston. We know what’s in the lorry, but we don’t know what you want us to do with it. Give me a clue.’

  ‘Three things,’ Richter said. ‘First, I want the device made safe, but not disabled. I want any firing circuits rendered temporarily inoperative. Second, I want you to explain to me how to do exactly the same thing on another weapon of the same type.’

  ‘Where is it?’ Dewar interrupted.

  ‘It’s at Gibraltar,’ Richter said. ‘I won’t bore you with the details, but that weapon is likely to be detonated within about ten hours unless we do something about it, so I need answers bloody fast. Third, my instructions are to have this weapon transported to Britain as soon as possible. We have a tractor unit and escort coming out this evening, but I’d like your team to accompany the lorry as well.’

  ‘Right, then,’ Dewar said. ‘We’d best get on with it.’

  The SAS team had broken the seals and opened the back of the truck as soon as they had parked it in the rest area to check that it did contain a nuclear weapon, and not, for example, a consignment of caviar and vodka for a Russian Embassy staff party. The trailer had been fully loaded to enable it to pass a cursory inspection if it was ever stopped and examined by an authority which would not accept its diplomatic status. After they’d emptied out all the cardboard boxes and bits of furniture from the back, the only thing left was a large steel box, padlocked. One of the GIGN men had cracked the padlock with a pair of bolt-cutters, checked carefully for any wires or switches that might indicate a booby-trap, and then they’d peered inside the box. Then they’d shut the trailer. Now they opened the rear doors wide and most of the Aldermaston team climbed in. Richter left them to it and went off to talk to Lacomte.

  ‘I’d like a helicopter,’ he said.

  ‘Where and when?’ Lacomte asked.

  ‘As soon as the boffins have finished, to fly me to Reims to catch the Tornado. My guess is it will take them at least a couple of hours, but I’d like it on standby here sooner than that.’ Lacomte nodded and rattled off instructions in French to the radio operator beside him.

  Colin Dekker walked over and stuck out his hand. ‘We’re off,’ he said. ‘It’s seven forty, so we’re leaving for Reims now. I wouldn’t,’ he added, ‘want to miss the Hercules and all the fun down south.’ Lacomte and Richter shook his hand.

  ‘Have a good trip,’ Richter said. ‘I hope I’ll reach Gib about the same time you do, but I’ll definitely be there well before the assault.’

  As the Transit drove out of the rest area and headed south for Reims, Lacomte radioed the gendarmes at the Chambry junction and ordered them to escort it to Reims airport. Lacomte and Richter walked over to the lorry to check on progress. The professor was directing operations from behind, in the best military tradition.

  ‘How’s it going?’ Lacomte asked.

  Dewar turned round and looked at him. ‘Difficult to say,’ he said. ‘We’ve identified three anti-handling devices so far, and I suspect there’ll be at least one more. When we’ve disabled those we’ll be able to get at the weapon.’

  ‘Time is very
short, Professor. Can you give me any idea how long this will take?’

  ‘No,’ he snapped. ‘We’re working as fast as we can, and we won’t be helped by you two standing there asking stupid questions.’

  Lacomte started to speak, but Richter took his arm and moved him away. ‘Better we leave them to it,’ he said.

  One of the radio operators walked over to Lacomte and passed him a message. ‘Things are moving,’ Lacomte said. ‘The Hercules left Northolt a few minutes ago, and its estimate for Reims is eight fifteen. Your helicopter is on its way from the Gigènes’ base at Maisons-Alfort, and should land here in about twenty minutes. Finally, your Tornado is flight-planned out of RAF Honington and that will reach Reims no later than eight thirty our time.’

  ‘Good, and thank you,’ Richter said.

  ‘I’m out of here, Paul,’ John Westwood said, walking over to Richter. ‘I’m going back to Paris now, then on to London. From there, I don’t know. It all depends on what happens down in Gibraltar, I guess, so good luck.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Richter said, shaking his hand. ‘I think I’m going to need it.’

  10 Downing Street, London

  ‘The London weapon has been stopped in France, Prime Minister,’ Sir Michael Geraghty began, as he walked into the private office at number 10 Downing Street. ‘There were no casualties on our side, and the operation was entirely successful.’

  ‘Excellent news,’ the Prime Minister said, rubbing his hands and looking cheerful.

  ‘It isn’t all good news, unfortunately,’ Geraghty went on. He had been briefed by Simpson about Gibraltar only minutes earlier. ‘The architects of this scheme have arranged a demonstration of the weapon’s power in Gibraltar, and we are racing to disarm the device before it can be detonated.’

  The Prime Minister sat down, and motioned Geraghty to a chair. ‘Explain, please.’

  ‘There is a Russian ship there, Prime Minister, called the Anton Kirov,’ Geraghty began, and reached into his briefcase for his notebook.

  Autoroute A26, vicinity of Couvron-et-Aumencourt, France

  It was nearly nine thirty before the Aldermaston team finally completed the disarming of the weapon, and Dewar beckoned Richter over. ‘All done,’ he said. ‘Sorry it took so long, but we obviously didn’t want any accidents.’

  ‘Quite,’ Richter replied. ‘Will it take me as long with the Gibraltar weapon?’

  Dewar shook his head firmly. ‘It shouldn’t do. Our main problem was not knowing how all the anti-tamper devices were rigged. You should be able to disable the other weapon in about ten minutes. Now, come with me and I’ll show you.’

  They climbed into the back of the lorry and looked at the Russian bomb. It was much smaller than Richter had expected, and didn’t look like a bomb at all. The outer steel box was about ten feet long, four feet high and five wide. At one end of it were three large lead-acid batteries, wired in parallel, while the weapon itself was a virtually invisible three-foot-diameter cylinder underneath a tangle of wires and cables in the centre of the box.

  ‘Right,’ said Dewar. ‘The first thing is the bank of batteries. Do not under any circumstances disconnect those, as they power the anti-tamper devices. If you interrupt the power supply, all four circuits are made simultaneously, and the explosive charge will detonate. It won’t,’ he added, ‘trigger the bomb, but you won’t be around to appreciate it.’

  He pointed at the mass of cables. ‘You have to cut the following seven wires, in this sequence,’ he said, and gave Richter a sheet of paper on which he had written the colour coding of the wires, and the order in which they were to be severed.

  ‘And that disarms the bomb?’ Richter asked.

  ‘Of course not,’ Dewar said, shaking his head. ‘That just means you can shift all this crap—’ he gestured at the wires ‘—and see the weapon. Now watch.’ He bent down and undid four butterfly nuts, then lifted out a large aluminium plate in the centre of which was a sealed box and around the box most of the wiring. ‘The box,’ he said, ‘contains about four kilos of plastic explosive, but once the wires are cut there’s no further danger from it.’ He put the plate down carefully on the floor beside the box, and they both looked inside again.

  ‘This weapon,’ he began, ‘wasn’t armed. That is to say, the firing circuits and all the other components are present, but the connections hadn’t been made. I presume that this would have been done once the weapon had been finally positioned.’ He pointed at a black plastic box with eight cables emerging from it. ‘This box is the link to the power supply. The weapon can be powered either by a mains supply – one hundred and ten or two hundred and forty volts alternating current, or by a twelve-volt direct current from a battery pack like the one in this container. In fact,’ he continued, ‘we believe it would normally be powered by the mains with the battery pack as a standby, as the circuitry incorporates a battery charger.

  ‘Now listen carefully. When you look at the weapon in Gibraltar, you will probably see a cable entering the box, just here.’ He pointed. ‘That will be the power supply. Again, as with the anti-handling devices, don’t interfere with it. This weapon doesn’t incorporate any kind of timing device, so we assume that it can only be detonated by an external signal of some sort.’

  ‘That is what we have been told,’ Richter assured him.

  ‘The trigger,’ Dewar said, ‘is here – this black cylinder with the four leads attached to it. On the Gibraltar weapon, there will also be one or more other wires which will be attached to whatever radio or communications device they are using to actuate it.’

  Richter looked where he was pointing. The cylinder was about six inches in diameter and a foot long, and stuck at right angles out of the centre of the cylindrical bomb casing. ‘Do not attempt to disconnect or interfere with any of these leads. The only safe way to disarm the weapon is to physically remove the trigger.’

  He looked at Richter. ‘Are you good with your hands?’

  ‘I hope so,’ Richter said.

  ‘So do I, because if you cock this bit up there’ll be a sodding great bang and most of Gibraltar will disappear. You,’ he added, ‘will be the first to know about it.’ Dewar wasn’t smiling. ‘The trigger is held in place by six Allen bolts – or rather Russian variants of them. These look like normal Allen bolts, with recessed hexagonal sockets in the heads, but differ in one important way. They have a left-hand thread, instead of the usual right-hand. That means that to undo the bolts you turn them clockwise.’

  ‘Why have they done that?’ Richter asked. ‘Just to be bloody awkward?’

  Dewar glanced briefly towards the rear of the trailer. ‘If this was a French device, I’d agree with you,’ he said. ‘French engineering makes a point of complicating everything for no readily apparent reason. In this case, though, I think it’s just to ensure that the correct bolts are used. The pressures generated within a nuclear weapon at the moment of detonation boggle the mind, and it is essential that the trigger assembly remains in place for the period intended by the designer. These bolts have been specially made and have enormous tensile strength.’

  He selected a ratchet handle from a socket set and attached a six-inch extension to it. Then he fitted an Allen bolt key to the end and snapped it into the head of one of the bolts. ‘You’ll find that they’ll take some shifting,’ he said. ‘We calculated the torque setting used at about three hundred foot-pounds. We removed all these earlier, so there’s no problem.’ Working quickly, he undid and removed five of the six bolts, then steadied the cylinder with one hand while he removed the last one. Then he put both hands around the cylinder and eased it slowly out of the bomb casing.

  ‘It’s quite heavy,’ he said, ‘but the important thing is to avoid it touching the sides of the casing as you remove it. If you do that, you could earth the cylinder and that might activate the trigger. I’m not saying it would, but it could, and I wouldn’t want to try it.’

  ‘Nor would I, thanks. And then?’

  ‘You
’re almost there. With the trigger out of the sphere, put it on the floor and cut the four leads attached to it.’

  Richter was puzzled. ‘Won’t that fire the trigger?’

  ‘Yes, of course. Oh – I see what you mean. This isn’t an explosive trigger; it’s mechanical.’ He held it up so that Richter could see it, and pointed at the sides. ‘These four bolts are recessed at present,’ he said. ‘When the trigger fires they will extend simultaneously and make contact with four electrically active panels on the inside of the hole in the bomb casing. That will complete the electrical circuit which triggers the explosive charge that actually fires the weapon. It’s an unusual system,’ he mused, ‘and there are some odd features in the design of the weapon itself.’

  ‘You might,’ Richter said, ‘get a chance to look at it more closely later on. Anything else I should know?’

  ‘Only to keep your fingers out of the way of the four bolts when you cut the wires attached to the trigger,’ he said, ‘but otherwise, that’s it.’

  ‘What about radiation from the weapon?’ Richter asked. ‘Once the trigger’s been removed, I mean.’

  ‘We’ve measured it, and it’s not significant,’ Dewar replied. ‘The fissionable material is obviously shielded within the bomb casing itself.’

  ‘OK, I’m happy with the disarming instructions, but please give me your mobile phone number now, and leave the mobile switched on for the next twenty-four hours. That’s just in case I meet any other problems down in Gibraltar.’

  ‘Of course,’ Dewar said. He wrote a number on a slip of paper and gave it to Richter.

  ‘Oh, one last thing,’ Richter said, ‘can I borrow the socket set and your pliers?’

  Reims airport, France

  The Alouette dropped out of the darkening sky and settled on to a concrete hardstanding to the north of the main runway at Reims airport. The ground marshaller dropped his light wands into the ‘park’ position – in a cross below his waist – and the pilot commenced the shutdown sequence. As the clattering of the rotors died away, Richter unstrapped and climbed out. A figure standing beside the marshaller walked over to him. ‘Mr Beatty?’