by Gus Frazer
Sarah lurched through the gate as the two agents skidded to a stop just outside it. She sprinted to the main door of the old stone building, brushing down her suit jacket and smoothing her hair back, trying to compose herself and catch her breath. Glancing back, she saw the two agents — bent over, red-faced and out of breath, looking up at her.
Inside the embassy, Fletcher and General Stephens were already talking to the ambassador and Colonel Gregory, a high-ranking US Air Force officer. Walking into the opulent office, Sarah was still catching her breath. The men stopped their conversation and looked around.
‘Ah, Sarah. Please come and join us,’ said General Stephens, the picture of composure. ‘Colonel Gregory here, from USAF, was just taking us through the flight plan.’
‘Thank you, General,’ said Sarah, walking over to the table where they were huddled.
She positioned herself beside Fletcher, leaning over to whisper in his ear. ‘Draven is onto us. I just had some agents try to stop me from getting in here.’
Fletcher nodded slowly before turning his head, whispering to Sarah with a wink, ‘Nothing they can do now.’
‘Well, Matt could go to the press, let the Chinese know of our plan and allow them to make some threat. Once that happens our plan’s over,’ said Sarah, trying desperately to whisper, but her voice breaking from the stress.
Fletcher took Sarah by the arm and led her away from the table. General Stephens didn’t notice, engrossed as he was in conversation with the ambassador and Colonel Gregory. Once out of earshot, Fletcher gently turned Sarah to face him, with both hands on her shoulders. ‘Listen, Sarah. Pull yourself together. You’ve come this far — don’t blow it now by losing your bottle. Perhaps we need to have a chat with General Draven and explain things. I’m sure he, of all people, will understand what we’re trying to do here.’
Sarah nodded, taking a deep breath, trying to restore her composure.
Chapter 22
A medical team was waiting on the helipad as the navy helicopter swooped in. The pilot jerked the helicopter back suddenly while landing, the motion like a rider reining in an out-of-control horse. The whole machine shuddered under the stress of the rapid deceleration. Matt was lying unconscious on a stretcher in the back of the dimly-lit cabin, crowded in by the medic and some members of the Special Forces team. Before the chopper had landed, the side door slid open. As soon as the landing struts hit the tarmac the medical team was upon Matt, moving him onto a gurney.
The Special Forces medic ran alongside the gurney, yelling to the doctor above the roar of the helicopter’s rotors.
After analysing what was left of the drug in the syringe that had been injected into Matt, the doctors ascertained the type of tranquilliser, and an antidote was administered. Matt slowly came around. He was still very groggy, talking gibberish. It took a few long minutes for him to shake off the drug-induced cloud fogging his mind.
‘Where am I?’ he asked the doctor.
‘You’re safe. You’re at Creswell naval base in New South Wales,’ replied the doctor.
‘What happened? How did I get here?’ he asked, trying to sit up.
The captain of the Special Forces team stepped forward, motioning for the medical staff to leave the room. ‘Mr Lang, you were kidnapped and being kept on a boat off the coast. We rescued you, but as we did they knocked you unconscious with a tranquilliser.’
‘Jesus,’ said Matt, rubbing his head, noticing the drip that was hooked up to his hand.
‘Sir, I need to ask you some questions — do you know why the Secret Service wanted you kidnapped?’
Matt sat there rubbing his face with both hands, trying to comprehend everything he had been told.
‘Mr Lang, please can you tell us why someone wanted you kept quiet?’ repeated the captain.
Matt suddenly remembered. He dropped his hands to the bed, his eyes red and swollen, skin pallid and unshaven. ‘I remember, the nuke — they’re going to bomb Australia, they’re going to drop a nuclear bomb on Australia!’
‘What do you mean? Who’s dropping a bomb?’ said the captain, stunned as much by the mad look on Matt’s face as the words ‘nuclear bomb’.
‘Sarah … Sarah Dempsey and General Stephens — they’re planning to drop a nuclear bomb on Australia.’
The captain didn’t waste any time, immediately calling Jackson.
‘What is it?’ Draven demanded into MiLA.
Jackson was on the other end. ‘Sir, Mr Lang has regained consciousness, although he’s not making sense.’
‘What’s he babbling about then?’
‘Well, sir, he’s saying Ms Dempsey is going to drop a nuclear bomb on Australia.’
General Draven sat at his desk, frozen, staring at the wall opposite in silence.
‘Sir? Did you hear me?’
‘Christ! Of course, of course! That makes sense,’ he said in a hushed tone, to himself more than Jackson.
‘Sir, one other thing. We have reports of two US military planes taking off from Christchurch. They are, however, unconfirmed by the US or New Zealand military.’
‘It’s on its way already. They’re actually going to do it. They’re going to nuke the mines in South Australia,’ said Draven incredulously. ‘Thank you, Jackson. That will be all. Not a word of this to anyone, do you understand?’
‘Of course, sir. Let me know if there is anything else.’
Throwing MiLA on his desk and sitting back in his chair, Draven considered his next move. What they were doing was illegal, unethical, bordering on insanity. But, at the same time, there was method to the madness — he could see that instantly.
MiLA rang. The room seemed excruciatingly quiet — between the rings was a tense silence that seemed to strain Draven’s ears. Looking at the screen, Fletcher’s name flashed up. Answering it, Draven brought the device slowly to his ear.
The words were out of his mouth before he was even aware of what he was saying. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing, Fletcher?’
‘Saving this country is what we’re doing, and you know it.’ Fletcher knew how to control his voice to suit the audience. He knew that a man like Draven responded to a firm hand.
‘Seems to me like you’re willing to destroy a very large chunk of it in doing so!’ said Draven.
‘Look, Draven!’ Fletcher said impatiently, ‘We don’t have time to debate the ethics of what we’re doing. The reality is the wheels are in motion. It’s too late, it’s happening. I need to know that you’re on board. We cannot risk the Chinese finding out at the last minute through a leak. You know that if they make a threat, they’re likely to follow through on it — if only to save face. Then we’ll be hamstrung and forced to abort.’
‘It’s a little extreme, don’t you think, Fletcher — nuking our own country?’ Draven said dubiously.
‘Cut the bullshit, Draven,’ Fletcher retorted, getting heated now. ‘You know the pointlessness of a conventional war against the Chinese — we’d be turning Australia into the Middle East of the South Pacific.’
Draven sat there, silently. He could see what they were doing was the right thing, in a perverse way. But his pride wasn’t letting him see clearly. He felt belittled that he wasn’t involved in the planning, that he had been lied to — and now he felt like a fool.
‘Why didn’t you bring me in on it sooner?’ asked Draven, finally.
‘Plausible deniability, Draven,’ responded Fletcher, glad the conversation had turned. ‘After this event, we will, in all likelihood, go to prison. The country will need you to rebuild our defences quickly — if the plan works, that is.’
Draven immediately felt ashamed. They were sacrificing their careers and lives for all Australians, including himself. He saw his resistance now as absurd. ‘Yes, you have my word that I won’t go to the press — or anyone else, for that matter.’
‘Thank you. You’re doing the right thing,’ said Fletcher, trying to keep the relief out of his voice.
‘No, you’re doing the ri
ght thing — I’m just staying out of your way,’ replied Draven.
‘One other thing,’ said Fletcher, with an air of sombreness. ‘Tomorrow morning, provided everything goes to plan, you need to pick us up and take us into federal custody. I’ve already spoken to the general about it — you need to stay beyond reproach on this and the best way for you to do that is to arrest us. You’ll need to act quickly to secure the defences — particularly in WA — despite that idiot of a premier doing a deal with the Chinese.’
‘I understand,’ said Draven.
‘Very good. Well! I guess we’ll be seeing you tomorrow, then?’ Fletcher said, his tone cheerful.
‘Yes, until tomorrow. And good luck.’
With that, the conversation ended.
Draven went back to staring at the wall, contemplating the enormity of what was about to happen.
In the ops room of the US embassy, Fletcher went back to the table to monitor the progress of the B-5s with a spring in his step.
In the dark cockpit of one of the stealth bombers, the two pilots had climbed to their cruising altitude and had just made their final turn into the approach path. The sky was clear, and at their altitude the stars were like searchlights, bathing the huge aircraft in light.
‘Opening bomb-bay doors,’ said the captain.
‘Two minutes from Alpha drop-point,’ followed the co-pilot.
‘Received final confirmation code for arming of device,’ said the captain.
‘Requesting final verbal clearance from General Stephens,’ said the co-pilot.
Over the satellite link, General Stephens’ voice was crystal clear. ‘This is General Stephens. You have my authority to proceed with Operation Fulcrum.’
‘Voice recognition confirms General Stephens. Confirming order to proceed,’ said the co-pilot.
‘Confirmed,’ returned the captain. ‘Thirty seconds to drop-point.’
‘Switching to computer-release mode,’ said the co-pilot, reaching forward to engage the computer that would determine the exact moment of release from the B-5.
In the ops room, General Stephens was looking down at the satellite image of South Australia, staring intently. The tension was palpable.
Fletcher’s hands were shaking mildly. He had to remind himself to breathe, his chest tight and shoulders clenched. Sarah was staring at General Stephens, unnerved by the real-time updates and hearing the calmness of the pilots.
Back in the B-5, a screen on the instrument panel flashed three times and a soft electronic beep sounded. ‘Bomb is away. I repeat, Alpha bomb is released. Thirty seconds to detonation.’
General Stephens, who was stooped over the table staring at the image, looked up at Sarah.
Her heart missed a beat and she felt a punch in her chest. Leaning forward on the table to steady herself, she breathed deeply through her mouth.
The screen on the table went white — there was no sound, just bright white. The image on the screen zoomed out, providing a wider view of the area. The image now was of the entire continent. There was a large white bulge in the middle of South Australia, reflecting the intense heat generated by the explosion.
‘Successful detonation of Alpha device,’ said the captain. ‘Continuing to drop point Bravo. ETA, two minutes.’
Finn stood outside the barn in the unusually mild, eucalyptus-scented air, staring out into the blackness. His bag was packed for the next morning. The idea of going back to the war made him feel anxious. But while in his heart he wanted to stay, he knew he couldn’t.
‘Hey,’ said Jess, walking up behind him.
‘Hey,’ replied Finn, his voice sounding heavy.
‘Wish you didn’t have to go,’ said Jess, smiling sadly. ‘Who’s going to do all the lifting around here now?’
‘Oh, I’m so sorry! You might have to roll up your sleeves for a change,’ said Finn, straight back at her.
‘Nah, I’ll just start a list of jobs you can do when you come back,’ she said, bumping him playfully with her shoulder.
‘You know this war could go on for years and years,’ Finn said, serious now. ‘I might be an old man by the time it’s over.’
‘Yeah, that’s okay,’ said Jess, quietly. ‘I’ll find a use for you, old man …’
The flash of light on the horizon to the north-west was bright enough to silhouette the trees in the distance and make night into day. It flickered once, then softened into a sustained glow. Finn’s immediate thought was lightning — but lightning didn’t have a residual glow, or linger like this. It had dulled now into a menacing red glow.
‘What the fuck was that?’ exclaimed Finn, his body tensing and involuntarily straining upward.
‘I don’t know. It’s not lightning,’ said Jess, staring at the glow.
‘It must be massive, whatever it is,’ said Finn concerned. ‘Where’s your dad?’
‘I’ll go get him,’ said Jess, turning to go back to the shed.
Finn stood staring at the glow, trying to work out where the light was coming from. A moment later he heard footsteps behind him as John and Jess joined him.
‘I’ve never seen anything like it,’ remarked John. ‘Could be a bushfire, I suppose.’
‘But it happened so quickly. It was a flash of light and then this glow — now it’s fading quickly,’ replied Finn.
A dull, sinister thud of a soundwave hit them — not so much a noise as a feeling in the chest, a vibration so deep it felt like a solid mass hitting them.
Panic swept over them all.
‘Jesus, what the fuck,’ Finn pulled Jess in tight to him.
John steadied himself by grabbing the wooden railing. ‘Don’t know what that was — but it ain’t natural, that’s for sure. Come on! Let’s see if there’s anything on the radio,’ he said, turning hurriedly to go back into the shed.
John went to the radio while Finn shut the shed doors. John worked on the radio, hands trembling, trying to find a frequency.
Their minds were racing. Were they under attack? Were they going to die? What could they do?
Silence hung in the air.
‘It’s okay, guys,’ said Finn, willing his heart to slow down. ‘We’re alive. It’s going to be all right — just stay calm. Keep trying the radio. We have to get something.’
The static suddenly gave way to silence. After a pause that seemed to last forever, a newsreader’s voice came through. ‘This is breaking news. Nuclear bombs have been detonated in the northern area of South Australia, the Northern Territory, Western Australia and Far North Queensland. At this point, this is all the information we have. We will keep you updated as we learn more.’ With that, the message repeated. John turned down the radio.
‘Oh shit,’ said Finn in an awed voice, ‘they’re nuking us.’
‘Jesus, are we going to be all right?’ asked Jess, moving closer.
‘Dunno,’ mumbled Finn.
‘It makes sense, though,’ said John. ‘Doesn’t it? The flash, the sound. None of it was caused by weather, that’s for sure — it had to be from a bomb.’
‘It does make sense, but what doesn’t make sense is that they would do it in the first place,’ said Finn, still staring at the radio, his mind working overtime.
Jess mused aloud. ‘Why would the Chinese nuke this area? They’ve invested huge energy to secure the mines. Why nuke out here — where the mines are?’
Finn’s mouth dropped open slightly, and he started blinking rapidly. ‘I think we dropped them on ourselves. I think we nuked the mines and the Chinese port up in the gulf,’ said Finn excitedly.
‘What? There’s no way the government would do that,’ scoffed Jess, refusing to believe it.
‘No,’ Finn said, standing up, ‘when I spoke to the army yesterday they said that most troops were involved in an operation to move people outside the demarcation lines that the government had established. I think they were moving people out of harm’s way,’ said Finn, more convinced of his theory with each word.
B
oth Jess and John contemplated the theory for a moment.
‘Keep listening. They might say,’ said John, looking back at the radio.
The three of them stayed up most of the night, debating and discussing the theory, checking the radio for news. But it just continually repeated the same news, shedding no new light.
The wick in the lantern cast only enough light to show their faces. Exhaustion soon took over and they all fell silent. Sleep came quickly to them. Even Finn couldn’t hold off sleep, despite his mind doing its best to resist with thoughts of what would happen next. Perhaps, he hoped, this meant the war would be over. Or was a new, far worse war just beginning?
Chapter 23
In Beijing, Ambassador Xian received a call at 4 am, demanding his presence with Chairman Yun. Xian left his apartment in distress. To be summoned at this hour to see Yun could only mean bad news.
While he sat outside Chairman Yun’s opulent, old-world-style office, waiting to be granted entry, his assistant briefed him on the news of what had happened in Australia.
‘My God!’ said Xian, genuinely stunned by the news, ‘General Stephens must be insane to do that to his own country.’
At that moment one of the enormous, polished wooden doors opened smoothly. A young, impeccably suited woman silently ushered Xian into the room with only a very subtle gesture of her eyes and head.
Xian strode into the office. ‘Chairman, I am aware of the actions of General Stephens and am shocked that he would make such an act of aggression on our mines. I assume there are to be retaliations,’ started Xian, injecting enough anger into his voice to ensure Yun did not think him a coward.
‘Yes, Xian,’ said Yun from his richly upholstered chair. ‘It is shocking, though it was always a risk. It seems we underestimated General Stephens. He has proven to be courageous to the point of insanity. A difficult breed of adversary.’
‘Indeed. So what is our response?’ Xian prompted respectfully. ‘They cannot take nuclear action against China without consequences!’
Yun gave Xian a pitying look. ‘Our response will be a pragmatic one, Xian. There will be no retribution, no further attacks on Australia — just a withdrawal of all remaining military forces.’