by Rob Carnell
"Walters, I will be there in forty five seconds, check all your numbers, I want to know what the hell is happening when I get there."
The captain’s next call, accomplished while he was hastily pulling on his trousers was to the officer of the watch.
"Officer of the Watch, this is the Captain, sound general quarters, this is not a drill, acknowledge."
"Captain, this is the Officer of the Watch, I confirm sounding general quarters. This is not a drill."
Emergency radiation containment procedures are vitally important, but they make heavy reading. Brian was actually starting to enjoy the volume he was reading, when the klaxon horn sounded general quarters, followed by an audio announcement that this was not a drill. He slammed the book shut forgetting to mark the page.
The captain made it to the radio room three seconds early. This time Vaughan missed nothing.
"All my systems are operating correctly sir. Inbound aircraft BA154 has a bogus transponder. It should be a Boeing 777. But, performance shows this to be a small propeller driven aircraft. Perhaps there is some mix up with the codes."
The captain turned around and lunged for the microphone to call weapons.
"Captain to Weps, acknowledge."
"Weps to Captain, Seaman Peacock responding."
"Weps I am about to upgrade our status to battle stations. Get a sea sparrow on the rail for immediate launch!" yelled the Captain.
"Jesus Christ!. . . . . Shit, sorry, I mean aye aye Sir", this was the first time Peacock had ever received an order to make ready a missile except as a drill.
"Sailor, load that bird and have it ready to fly yesterday, this is not a drill, I will be there in thirty seconds", the captain needed to be there in person.
"Captain to Officer of the Watch, upgrade our status to Battle Stations. This is not a drill."
"Officer of the Watch to Captain. I confirm sounding Battle Stations. This is not a drill."
Once again the klaxon horn sounded followed by the P.A. announcement.
Before he left the radar room, the Captain turned back to Walters, "I want to know how far that aircraft is from the exclusion zone. I will be in weapons, radio me every thirty seconds with an update." Captain Johnson took off at a dead sprint towards the weapons pod, nearly knocking over his Exec Officer Mark Douglas in the process. "Mark, get to the bridge and take over from the Officer of the Watch, we have a situation", he shouted without even breaking stride.
As Walters had experienced moments earlier, Brian Peacock at the missile controls was also sweating heavily when the captain stormed into the weapons room. Just as he entered, the first report came over the intercom system, "Radar room to Weps, Captain, inbound bogie just made a slow turn onto heading one eight zero now heading directly toward Ronald Reagan three miles from exclusion zone one hundred and thirty five miles an hour, descending through four thousand feet. Will breach perimeter in approximately two minutes"
"Walters, is there any response from the pilot?"
"Negative sir. I have been continually calling on the regular area frequencies as well as all emergency channels."
"Walters, patch the Weps intercom onto all aircraft emergency frequencies, I want to talk to the pilot."
"Yes sir, go ahead", Walters had finally anticipated one of the captain’s orders.
"Unidentified aircraft headed one eight zero degrees at four thousand feet towards US fleet. This is Captain Johnson aboard USS Port Royal. Be advised that you are headed for the three mile aircraft carrier exclusion zone, immediately turn around and leave the area. If you breech our no fly zone, you will be engaged, please respond."
Peacock was squirming in his seat, "Captain, what do I do?"
"Sailor, you do what you have been trained to do The second I tell you to, press that fucking button and splash that bogie. Are we clear?" The captain was beginning to sweat as well!
"Aye aye sir. The missile is prepared for launch, ready in all respects", the endless hours of drill had now taken over. He was still sweating but at least Brian was now in complete control of the situation.
Walters’ voice was becoming higher with each syllable, "Captain, radar room, unidentified bogie has descended to two thousand feet, course and speed unchanged, two miles from exclusion zone, time to security breech fifty seven seconds."
"Unidentified aircraft headed one eight zero degrees at two thousand feet towards US fleet. This is Captain Johnson aboard USS Port Royal. Be advised that you are headed for the three mile aircraft carrier exclusion zone, immediately turn around and leave the area. If you breech our no fly zone, you will be engaged, please respond. This is your last warning."
Fifty seven seconds seemed like an eternity to the missile technician. Peacock had time to check all his systems three times as well as making the mental calculation that the missile was probably wasting quite a bit of fuel, since if it were fired, it would find its target in around fourteen seconds.
"Radar to Captain, breech imminent", screamed Walters.
The missile room went deathly quiet for what seemed an eternity before the captain issued the order that was destined to end a young life. "FIRE!"
Peacock stabbed the red button with his index finger. The solid fuel rocket motor ignited and the first sparrow missile ever aimed at a light aircraft rocketed away from the starboard rail, and vanished into the ink black sky.
"Allahu Akbar . . . .", sprang from the previously quiet radio, the Arabic cry "God is Great", but the transmission never finished. Muhommad never even saw the incoming missile, otherwise he would have pressed the button on the small box in his lap. The five hundred pound metal cylinder travelling at over two thousand six hundred miles an hour homed in on the hot exhaust of his Lycoming engine. It was radar guided and once it had acquired the target it was game over.
The Raytheon guidance system was designed to explode the warhead just before it hit.
Seconds later, ninety pounds of high grade military explosive detonated just inches from Muhommad’s knees.
The shredded aircraft erupted into a fireball and fell silently into the tepid waters of the gulf below.
The explosion totally fragmented Muhommad’s body and blew his suitcase to pieces, scattering dense yellow powder over a wide expanse.
The Captain ordered a rescue and recovery craft launched, but in truth he did not expect that there would be much left to rescue. Like everything else that happened that day, it was just standard procedure.
Rigid Inflatable Rescue Craft
2 Hours later
* * *
CAPTAIN, THIS is seaman Lewis on board rescue 7."
"Go ahead Lewis, have you found any wreckage?" asked Captain Johnson.
"It’s really weird Sir, there is not much to see except lots of dead fish floating on the surface."
Johnson suddenly had a sinking feeling in his stomach "Lewis, do you have a Geiger counter with you?"
"FUCK!!! THIS AREA IS RED HOT!!!"
"Relax seaman, you haven’t been in the water" replied the Captain trying to sound unworried, "Get back here on the double and hit the decontamination showers."
Lewis did not need to be told twice.
The Captain sprinted to his cabin and picked up the phone and called communications "Comms, get me an encrypted link to the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, I want it yesterday" yelled the Captain.
Thirty seconds passed before a groggy voice answered "Admiral Nelson here."
"I am sorry to wake you Sir" explained Johnson.
"Son, for you to call me direct, I am guessing you have bad news, out with it!"
"Yes Sir………."
Johnson gave the Admiral the abridged version of the destruction of the small aircraft.
"Why the hell did you call me? It serves the bastard right."
"Admiral, the reason I called is because our Rescue & Recovery team found the area teeming with dead fish. A check with a Geiger counter confirmed that the sea around the crash site has readings off the dial. To g
et readings like that, there had to be exposure to weapons grade enriched uranium. Sir, I believe the aircraft was carrying a nuclear device."
"Oh my God. Let me think a moment…………..Ok, get some guys in suits and get some samples of the sea water for analysis. I better wake the Commander-in-Chief. This will get ugly"
Chapter 3
White House
Mansion
October 11, 02:47am
* * *
PRESIDENT ADAM Connolly and First Lady Monica Connolly were asleep in the Mansion when the phone rang. They were only three months into their first term, and were still very much in learning mode. The campaign had taken a big physical toll on both of them, and they were only just recovering from the sheer physical exhaustion.
They had of course spent a lot of time in the capital over the years, but the move from California certainly proved which state had the better weather.
The President and First Lady shared the Mansion with their fourteen year old son Michael, his younger eleven year old sister Julia, and Sooty their cross Shih Tzu toy poodle.
The President believed he functioned at his best when he was fully refreshed, and when he retired to his quarters in the West Wing at 9.30pm, he had told the staff that he was not to be disturbed unless it was important.
They were in deep sleep almost immediately.
The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, Admiral Tom "Horatio" Nelson picked up his handset and called the White House from the speed dial of his mobile phone.
"White House Operator, Jenny here. Good morning Admiral Nelson, how may I assist you?" All numbers were recognized on the most secure telephone system on the planet.
"I need to talk to POTUS" said the grim Admiral. This was the secret service term for President of the United States.
"Sorry Admiral, but the President has asked not to be disturbed" replied the operator curtly.
"Get him on this phone right now young lady, before I blame you with starting World War III" the Admiral was not in the mood for snooty underlings at a time like this.
"No need to be like that Admiral, it’s my job to follow the President’s wishes" said Jenny not expecting the tirade that followed.
"If I am not speaking to the President in the next ten seconds, you will never work in Washington again. Put me through right this fucking second."
His blood was still boiling when he heard the President’s sleepy voice answer with a hollow "Hello" almost immediately.
Without needless preliminaries, Admiral Nelson began. "Mr. President, this is Horatio, we have a serious situation in the Gulf, I need to brief you immediately."
"Is it really necessary to do it right now?"
"I believe it is Sir. I am afraid there is a very serious situation in The Persian Gulf."
President Connolly’s voice was still weary when he asked "Tom, how serious a situation are we talking here?"
"Sir, for the first time in history, a nuclear weapon was targeted against U.S. forces" said the Chairman’s somber voice.
"Oh shit, how many dead?" asked an instantly wide awake President Connolly.
"It was just one, Mister President. And not one of ours" explained Nelson.
"Thank heavens for small mercies. Meet me at the Oval Office in five minutes."
"What’s happening Adam, is everything ok?" asked Monica.
"Go back to sleep honey, this might be a long night."
The President pulled on a robe and slippers and without another thought strode out his door startling the two Secret Service agents on duty outside.
"Time for an early morning stroll Gentlemen" announced the President as he took off at double time for the Oval Office, followed by the two Secret Service agents getting into stride.
Part II
The Making of a Man
Chapter 4
The Ivy Men’s Club
London, England
29 years ago
* * *
THE SHINING black Rolls Royce limousine dropped them off at a well appointed terrace house in the not yet upmarket London suburb of Notting Hill.
"Come back for us in two hours" said Razak Pashwari to the driver, as he hurried his sixteen year old son Kamal out of the back door.
Razak pushed the doorbell. There was a buzz, and the door clicked open. They walked down a small hallway and they were greeted by a beautiful, well dressed lady of around thirty five years of age, sitting behind a desk. She rose as they approached.
"Welcome to the Ivy, my name is Bonnie. Thank you for coming" said the shapely lady as she guided them into the next room where there were a number of couches "please take a seat."
Kamal sat instantly. Razak lightly grabbed Bonnie’s arm and they stepped back a few paces out of earshot and whispered for a few moments. Bonnie nodded agreement. Razak joined Kamal on the couch.
"Tell me young man, what type of girls do you like?" Bonnie asked Kamal.
"I am not sure" replied the blushing Kamal.
"No problem, I will be back in a moment."
Bonnie left the room for a few moments and soon returned with three beautiful young girls. They were all wearing skimpy bikinis.
"This is my friend Chastity" Bonnie announced. The blonde with obvious surgical enhancements, stepped forward to shake hands with Kamal.
"This is Tyler." A skinny chocolate colored Caribbean girl leaned down to kiss Kamal on the cheek.
Finally Bonnie introduced Yvette. She was the youngest of the three and was dressed in a gold bikini. Her long red hair flowed down her back almost to her skinny waist. Her perky breasts were almost completely uncovered.
Kamal’s eyes opened wide. He could not believe how beautiful the young red headed stunner looked.
"Pick one" ordered Razak.
Yvette spotted Kamal’s jaw drop and she just held out her hand "Come with me."
Yvette led Kamal to a beautiful room lined with antique gold leaf mirrors. She dimmed the lights just a little, before she slowly disrobed. Kamal was embarrassed but Yvette managed to put him at ease. She giggled a lot, and that helped. After a few minutes, she finally relieved Kamal of the last of his clothes and dragged him up onto the elevated king size bed.
Kamal had an unbelievable two hours with Yvette, but in truth two minutes would have been quite long enough. He learned a great deal that day.
Kamal of course, had no idea that his father was lying naked in bed with his old friend Bonnie at the same time. They watched Kamal perform on TV courtesy of the hidden camera in the room.
Chapter 5
Massachusetts Institute of Technology
Cambridge, Massachusetts
26 Years Ago
* * *
KAMAL WAS packed off to the United States to study electrical engineering. His father chose the most famous (and of course the most expensive) engineering school in the world, Massachusetts Institute of Technology in Boston. Even then the cost of tuition was prohibitive to all but the richest families, or those students with enough natural ability to receive a scholarship grant from a major corporation.
Kamal had been to London and Paris a couple of times with his father, but this was his first solo trip overseas.
He had no choice at all in the matter. His wealthy father Sheikh Razak Pashwari, head of the Pashwari clan, had sent Kamal off to Boston as he believed the future of the world was in electronics. History since had proven this to be an astute decision.
Razak had been born into a wealthy family, but he had multiplied his assets many fold as the industrialized world became more and more reliant on oil assets. Razak had become the prime negotiator for OPEC. He had received billions of dollars in secret commissions into his numbered Swiss bank accounts from giant oil companies desperate for long term contracts. Some of these funds were used to open electronics plants in China, Korea, and the old Soviet Union.
Kamal was enrolled in campus accommodation, but he soon realized that he was not accepted by his non-Muslim fellow students. He was even beaten up once.
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He was miserable and kept mulling the problem over in his mind. Finally, he realized that it was time for him to shape his own destiny. It took a few days, but finally he came up with a plan and called his father.
"Father, I am just not comfortable in accommodation here. It is most difficult for a dedicated follower of Islam" started out Kamal.
"Of course I understand my son. However, you must stay in the U.S. to study" said Razak firmly.
"You misunderstand me father. I do not wish to return home. I have an idea to help other Islamic students here."
"I see. Tell me more" said Razak with interest.
"Father, it is almost impossible to live by Islamic ideals in the United States. The food is terrible. I just do not understand how Americans can stomach it. Also, Americans do not like it when we arise early to pray. It is almost impossible to find accommodation off campus as they prefer to rent rooms to their fellow Americans" explained Kamal.
"I understand what you are saying. But what can we do about this my son?"
"I have given this a great deal of thought and I think I have come up with a solution. I have located a small boarding house. It is in quite poor condition. But, with some repairs and maintenance it would be more than adequate for my idea. I want to establish a Muslim Brotherhood, where our brothers in Islam can live while they study. We would not need to make any profit, so the rent would be subsidized. Proper food could be prepared for all, and we will not have any problems when we pray."
Razak was excited. This was the first time that young Kamal had ever thought of something other than himself, so Razak was excited to help.
"My son, I am very proud of you. This is a wonderful plan. Let this be the first of many such projects."
They discussed the financial aspects of the project, and Razak agreed to make funds available.