Operation Hail Storm

by Brett Arquette

  “Yeah. Hell, yeah!” Knox yelled, jumping to his feet and clapping his hands together. He then shook both of his fists in the air in victory. “Yeah, we good, we good, we got it going on!”

  Hail watched Knox do some sort of circular happy dance in the confines of his control station. Knox smiled and shook his hips and worked his arms.

  Hail couldn’t help but laugh at the young man. It was as if Knox had caught a touchdown pass in the Super Bowl.

  “Work it,” Shana called out. “Shake that bumpety-bump, Knox.”

  Grant would have loved to have taken part in the festivities, but he was still flying Foghat and trying to clear the drone from theater.

  Dallas Stone’s voice came on the comms over the mission control speakers.

  “Hi, Skipper, just an FYI. We have verified the takeoff of two Chengdu J-7s from Hwangju Airfield in Pyongyang. If they spotted Foghat on their radar, you have about two minutes before they’re onto you.”

  Hail took in the information and quickly did his best to interpret its meaning. The Chengdu J-7s were MiG-21 clones made by the People's Republic of China. The Chinese jet was built as a fighter interceptor and easily had the firepower to turn Foghat into fog. But Hail also knew that all of his main drones were built with the latest stealth capabilities. Radar-absorbing paint, weird surfaces that bounced radar waves harmlessly into the stratosphere and his drones flew low and at subsonic speeds. They left only a hint of emission footprints in the sky. Hail seriously doubted that the scramble of the Chinese jets had anything to do with his operation, but it was a good thing to know.

  Hail spoke into the room knowing that the room’s sensitive microphones would pick up his voice and transmit his words back to Dallas in the security center.

  “Do you have a vector on the jets yet?”

  “No, sir,” Dallas replied. “They just took off. I’ll update you in a few minutes.”

  “Didn’t you say they would be here in two minutes?” Hail asked.

  “Wait one. I’m watching the flight path as we speak.”

  “Thanks, Dallas,” Hail said in a calm tone.

  For this mission, days earlier several micro-drones similar to Stones had been deployed at Taetan Airfield, Onchon Airport, Pyongyang Sunan International Airport, as well as the field that Dallas had just referred to, Hwangju Airfield. All of those airfields were close to Pyongyang, and thus close to Kangdong. Hail didn’t expect an interdiction from these locations, but better safe than sorry.

  “Let’s keep Foghat low and slow until we get some distance between us and Kangdong,” Hail told Grant.

  “Roger that,” Grant confirmed. “Dropping down to 200 feet. I will be threading through the hills for a while.”

  “That’s fine,” Hail told him. “I mean what else do you have to do tonight?”

  “Good point,” Grant agreed. “I was going to get some time in on the flight simulator, but I think that would be superfluous at this point.”

  Dallas came over the speakers again.

  “False alarm, Skipper. The J-7s are headed south toward Chollima.”

  “Thanks for being on it anyway,” Hail said.

  Hail took a sip from his cold coffee, made a face and stuck it back in the cup holder.

  “I’ll be in my quarters if any of you need me,” Hail told his crew. “Great job, everyone.”

  “I wonder if I have any new e-mail,” Hail thought as he exited the mission center.

  ACT II

  Central Intelligence Headquarters: Langley, Virginia

  F

  our people sat around a large mahogany table. Two men and two women. “We didn’t stop Kim. We were too late,” the director of the CIA, Jarret Pepper, told his staff.

  Pepper’s mind was in a strange space. He was pleased that Kara had obtained Kornev’s phone and that his agency had acquired critical intelligence. On the other hand, he was extremely disappointed that the intelligence they had gathered indicated that they were too late.

  “The deal is already done,” Pepper said. “The shipment of missile parts, pieces, gyros, fuel cells, and everything it takes to assemble an ICBM is already being shipped to North Korea, as we speak.”

  Kara was pissed off. She didn’t do what she did, take the risks she took, and sleep with the scumbags she slept with for no reason. It sure as hell wasn’t for the pay. It was more for the payback. She felt as if she should say something, but knew the director had more to say. So, she bit her lip and bided her time.

  “As most of you know, Kim Yong Chang is dead. We’ve all seen the data chatter over our intelligence channels and know that to be a fact. What you don’t know, and what I found out during a meeting with the president yesterday, is that a man named Marshall Hail killed him. Assassinated him.”

  Pepper paused for the reaction.

  Kara went from looking pissed to looking intrigued.

  The Director of Analysis, Karen Wesley, went from looking concerned to looking even more concerned.

  Paul Moore, the Director of Operations, said, “You’ve got to be kidding. I don’t believe it. No one gets into North Korea.”

  “Believe it,” Pepper huffed. “Hail produced a video of Kim dying by some sort of poisoning in his backyard. The NSA has updated our file on Hail to include the video. You can go watch it when we’re done. I’ve already seen it and don’t care to watch it again. I just ate breakfast. I might not be drinking orange juice for a while.”

  Karen Wesley was upset. She was considering the big picture and the consequences for the nation at large.

  She told Pepper, “If what you are saying is true, then this is the most significant action I have ever witnessed since I’ve been at the CIA. A private citizen assassinated a top official in another country. How can we allow that?”

  Pepper laughed cynically.

  “How can we allow it?” he sneered at Wesley. “You’re kidding me. We put a goddamn bounty on the heads of each of these terrorists. We encouraged this type of response. So, based on our incentive program, Hail put together some sort of magic show with lots of smoke and mirrors. And Kim dies. And you are asking, what are we supposed to do? Do you think we should slap him down for it? Get real.”

  Wesley looked pissed but said nothing.

  “Do we know how Hail pulled this off?” Moore asked calmly, trying to ratchet down the tone of the meeting, but it didn’t help.

  Louder than before, Pepper responded, “That’s the smoke and mirrors stuff I was talking about. No one knows how it was done. I would bet my job that the North Koreans don’t know how it was done. Their execution wall is probably absorbing a lot of hot lead over this thing. But that really doesn’t matter. The Minister of State Security, Trang Won Dong, has already stepped into Kim’s job. The North Korean national defense is like a whack-a-mole government. Knock one fuzzy head down, and another mole pops right back up from the same hole.”

  Pepper paused to take a breath.

  “This isn’t good,” Wesley said.

  Pepper looked at the woman and was tempted to tell her to leave.

  Instead, he did his best to compose himself and said, “Karen, can you be a little more insightful in your comments, or do I need to remind you that’s why you make the big bucks?”

  Wesley looked hurt but restated her position.

  “First, our bounties are in place to encourage people who are in close proximity to our Top Ten Terrorists to provide us information so we can apprehend them. It was never intended to be an incentive for full military action by private entities.”

  She looked around the room to make sure her point was understood.

  Wesley continued, “Second, from what I understand, Hail is an American citizen, and if the North Koreans ever figured out what really happened, they would conclude—erroneously—the attack on their government was an American-sponsored attack.”

  No one said anything, but Pepper eyed her coolly.

  Wesley continued.

  “And third, any organization,
whether it’s an army, a militia, a rogue group of separatists, a gaggle of boy scouts, or even a billionaire with an international business—any organization that has the wherewithal and technology to pull off something like this, they are a threat to everyone.”

  Pepper sat quietly and mulled over Wesley’s three points. It didn’t take him long to come to the conclusion that Wesley was right. He wanted to say, well where do we go from here, but he was the guy in charge and was supposed to have all those answers.

  “So where do we go from here?” Paul Moore asked.

  Everyone looked at one another.

  Kara kept her mouth shut. So far, even though everything they had been hashing out was remarkable, none of it was in her wheelhouse. She had finite responsibilities, and upper-level policy making wasn’t one of them. She was starting to wonder why she had even been invited to the meeting.

  “I have some ideas,” Pepper told them. He had calmed down considerably. His voice was back to a normal volume.

  “During the meeting I had with the president, two interesting items came to my attention. One of them is a fact about Hail. I would like you all to study Hail’s file after this meeting. That fact was that Hail’s wife and two young twin daughters were killed in The Five.”

  No one in the room looked upset by this information except for Kara.

  The fact hit her like a physical blow to her solar plexus. She found it difficult to breathe for a moment. A zap of anxiety flooded her system, and she felt a flash of sweat break out across her forehead.

  Pepper wasn’t looking at anyone but Kara. He noticed that his words had impacted her. He knew they would.

  He continued, “The other point of interest is that the president is going to set up a meeting with Hail so she can personally hand him his twenty-five million-dollar check. The president asked if representatives from the CIA, NSA, military, and that new little worm, Rodgers from the FBI, could wait in the Oval Office while she and Hail had lunch. If Hail wants anything or needs anything in order to continue his valuable work, then the POTUS wants us to help him out. The president doesn’t feel like this is a one-time deal. She thinks Hail is going to do more of this vigilante stuff, and he might ask for some assistance.”

  Pepper glanced at everyone and then his eyes came back to rest on Kara.

  Kara looked at him indifferently. She was sure that the other shoe was getting ready to drop and sensed it would affect her in some way. After all, why else was she there?

  “I would like you to be at that meeting, Kara. I want you to accompany me while we wait in the Oval Office with the others.”

  “Why?” she asked, but she could have guessed the reason. She knew the reason. She wished she could withdraw the question.

  “Why?” Pepper responded rhetorically. “Well, let’s rundown a few of the facts. Hail’s wife was killed over two years ago. He has been on his ship for over two years. He has possibly never taken a step onto dry land in all that time. My guess is he’s been pining over his wife and has probably not thought much about female companionship during that time.”

  Pepper looked at Kara. Kara looked down at the table. She knew her value to the agency, but she resented it being spelled out so directly in front of all the other directors. She was a damn good agent, and it wasn’t all about her looks. But like any sensitive organic surface that has been continually irritated, Kara had built up callouses over what people thought of her. She really didn’t care what prissy Karen Wesley thought of her. Wesley probably demanded a tissue and an aspirin each time she had sex, if she ever had sex. And, as for the two men that were currently staring at her—Hell, if she had a dime for every man that lusted after her or resented her because they couldn’t have her, she would own her own island.

  Pepper said in an emphatic manner, “My plan is to get you onto Hail’s ship.”

  “No kidding,” Kara thought.

  She said nothing.

  “Can you think of anyone more qualified than yourself to do this assignment?”

  Unfortunately, Kara could not. She stayed silent.

  “I didn’t think so,” Pepper said.

  Kara said nothing.

  “The only way we’re going to find out about Hail’s capabilities is to get someone on the inside. If we can’t pull that off, then we’re just spinning our wheels.”

  Another long silence.

  “Do you understand, Kara?” Pepper asked her directly, expecting a response.

  “I understand, sir,” Kara said in a voice so lenient that if someone didn’t know her they might have thought she was always soft-spoken.

  “Good,” Pepper said, standing up and collecting his papers off the table. “Right now, I would like all of you to study Hail’s file. Let’s spend about four hours on it and then meet back here to further discuss strategy.”

  Kara was still staring at the shiny brown and endlessly long table top. She saw the faces of all the directors looking back at her in the reflection. She shifted her eyes and looked at the floor.

  “That’s all,” Pepper said.

  Balikpapan Bay, Indonesia—Aboard the Hail Nucleus

  T

  here was an e-mail waiting for Marshall Hail when he got back to his stateroom.

  To: MarshallHail@HailIndustries.com

  Hi Marshall:

  I hope you’ve been doing well. It came as somewhat of a shock when you took responsibility for the assassination of Kim Yong Chang. Needless to say, it really shook up some people here in Washington, but in my short tenure as director of the FBI, I’ve learned that nearly anything shakes people up down here. I spoke with the president about this issue and she said she will hand you the check personally. All you have to do is come to Washington and pick it up. She would like to have lunch with you in the Rose Garden and will work her schedule around yours. Just let me know the date and I will arrange the lunch with the POTUS. Unrelated, I wouldn’t have missed the funeral. You know that. We have a lot of history between us. I miss our dads too. I miss seeing you as well, and hopefully we can get caught up when you’re in DC. See you soon.

  Your bud,

  Trev

  Hail checked the time on the corner of his computer. Fuel consumption, airspeed, time zones and other travel-related data sifted through his mind.

  He took his phone out of his pocket and dialed a six-digit number.

  The phone was answered on the first ring.

  “Yes, sir,” the male voice said.

  “Hi, Daniel. Is the Gulfstream fueled and ready to fly?”

  There was a pause on the line. Something on the other end was being checked and verified.

  “It can be, Marshall. How soon do you want to be wheels up?”

  “Well, help me do some math so I know if I can make a lunch date tomorrow in Washington, DC.”

  There was a chuckle on the line, as if to say, Oh, another one of those trips.

  “It would be tight,” the pilot said. “Let’s see. The Gulfstream G650 flies at almost Mach 1. With a 7000-mile range, we would have to refuel somewhere.”

  “How about the Dakhla Airport in the Western Sahara of Morocco,” Hail suggested. “If I remember correctly, it’s about six thousand miles from Balikpapan Bay as the crow flies.”

  There was a pause as Daniel confirmed that information.

  “That’s doable. Let’s see, Washington is about 10,345 miles, so in the time it would take you to get off the ship and over to the Sultan Aji Muhammad Sulaiman Sepinggan International Airport here in Balikpapan—” and the pilot started laughing. “What a ridiculously long name for an airport,” he said and then composed himself. “Anyway, you get here quick and I think we can put you on the ground at—” another pause in the conversation and then Daniel asked, “Where do you want to land?”

  “I want to land at what used to be called Andrews Naval Air Facility in Maryland. I’m going to ask the president to pick me up in Marine Two and take me to the White House.”

  “Your dad was a military guy, ri
ght?” Daniel asked.

  “Yes,” Hail said.

  “Well, Marine Two is a call sign. It’s only called Marine Two when the vice president is on it. Any other time, it’s just a helicopter.”

  “Well, in that case, have them pick me up in Marine One,” Hail said with a laugh.

  Daniel chuckled and said, “I still don’t think you get it.”

  “I got it,” Hail said. “I’m just messing with you.”

  “Are we going to have clearance to land at Andrews Naval Airbase? I mean, I don’t want your beautiful sixty-four million-dollar Gulfstream to get shot out of the air. Oh, and you would be dead as well, so that would-be kind of a double bummer.”

  “Don’t worry about any of that. I’m going to write a quick e-mail jump into one of the ship’s helicopters and hop over there. Just be ready to fly.”

  “Well, I feel much better about the Gulfstream not getting shot down landing at Andrews because you sent an undependable e-mail message,” Daniel said, this time making sure the sarcasm in his voice was rich and thick. “Why don’t you just send a text? You could text something like, landing a strange plane on your secured air force base with no flight plan.”

  “I’ll be there in a few,” Hail said and clicked off the connection.

  To: TrevorRodgers@fbi.gov

  Hi Trev,

  Got your invitation. Tell the president I will be there tomorrow for lunch. You did say she would work around my schedule? Also, tell the boys at Andrews that my Gulfstream G650 will be touching down tomorrow around 11:00 AM your time. Tell them not to shoot us down. Also, if the VP isn’t using his helicopter, then I would appreciate a ride to the White House. I’m in a crunch for time.

  Got to go if I’m going to make the lunch with the POTUS.

  See you tomorrow,

  Marshall

  What to pack, what to pack, Hail mumbled to himself. He then realized that his Gulfstream had everything he needed. It had its own bedroom, and all the drawers in his plane were stuffed with all the same stuff his stateroom drawers were stuffed with.