Nuclear Surprise

by Rob Carnell

  "Come in gentlemen. Please be seated. Let’s get on with this." The President motioned to the coffee table and more comfortable chairs than those that surrounded the Resolute desk.

  The chief spook was the fifty seven year old CIA Director Adam Scott. He was newly appointed to the job by President Connolly and he too was still settling into his new job.

  "Sir this is extremely sensitive information, we thought it best just to brief only you in the first instance."

  The six feet four inch balding sixty six year old Admiral Nelson stood to his full height and began to read from his notes "Sir in the early hours of this morning in the Gulf of Arabia, a small propeller driven aircraft approached the three mile exclusion zone around our aircraft carrier USS Ronald Reagan. The guided missile cruiser support ship USS Port Royal determined that the aircraft was using a bogus transponder code and called the aircraft on the radio and told the aircraft to turn around and leave the area immediately.

  There was no response, and Captain Johnson on board Port Royal followed emergency procedures to the letter and initiated a successful missile strike against the offending aircraft.

  What makes this situation so serious Mr. President, is that our search and rescue team that were deployed to the area to search for survivors spotted dead fish in the water and did a routine radiation scan. Their Geiger counter readings were off the chart.

  We believe that the aircraft carried a nuclear weapon targeted against the Ronald Reagan."

  The President took all this in and thought for a few seconds before asking "Tell me Tom, how large a weapon are we talking here, and do we have any intelligence on who are the bad guys here?"

  Adam Scott answered this one too "Sir, perhaps I should take that one. The payload on what we believe was a small Cessna or Piper, would probably be only around one hundred and fifty pounds or so, so this was not a large weapon. As to the source of the threat, I am afraid we have no intelligence at all on an impending attack. But, given the Middle East theatre, there is no shortage of hostiles in the area. That said, we have absolutely no intelligence of any major impending attack."

  The President banged the desk with his balled fist madder than either of his visitors had ever seen him, he spoke very slowly and forcefully, "Gentlemen, we are going to send a message here".

  "Recommendations please gentlemen . . ." said the red faced President, looking for options.

  "Horatio" Nelson was first "I suggest we keep the nuclear threat between us, but brief the press at their regular session this morning. Also, we should keep our naval assets in the area on high alert."

  The CIA man Scott was next "Sir, we were able to obtain some debris from the downed aircraft. There was not much left as you can imagine, but the fragments are right now packed in lead and onboard an F-16 on the way here. Admiral Nelson has arranged for in-air refueling on the way and it should be here later this morning. Nuclear material can be traced back to the reactor that produced it, so by tonight, we should know a great deal more about this weapon."

  "Agreed" said the President. "Let’s keep this between us, keep the navy on their toes, and let me know the second you know more about the nuke. I am not taking this lying down, as soon as you give me a target gentleman, cruise missiles are going to rain, this could have been the greatest single loss of life in US history, get on with it."

  President Connolly stood and quietly shuffled off to a sleepless night, but at least he got a bed. The others went straight to their offices.

  Chapter 37

  Pashwari Palace

  Riyadh, Saudi Arabia

  6am

  * * *

  ALL WAS quiet in the Pashwari Palace that morning until the mournful strains of the call to prayer from the minaret of the mosque next door.

  As always, the Pashwari men carried their prayer mats to the front row. Kamal and some of his brothers and their sons were already there, but his eldest son Muhommad was absent.

  Of course the women were not permitted to join the men folk.

  Kamal’s son Muhommad was missing. Kamal passed word to one of his staff to check on his son in case he was ill, the only excuse not to attend morning prayers. When it was reported that his son was could not be found, Kamal became concerned, himself missing the prayer for the first time he could remember. He searched Kamal’s room and found his bed empty and his son nowhere to be found. Muhammad’s white sports car was also missing.

  Kamal started to experience a sinking feeling in his stomach as he hurried to his secure office. He quickly punched in the code and sprinted behind his desk. The feeling in his stomach immediately became nausea when he noticed one case was missing.

  Later that day Muhammad’s car was found at the airfield and inside was a note explaining what he planned to do in the cause of Islam.

  Kamal’s chief lieutenant Ali ran to see Kamal, "Sir I am sorry that it is I to bring such sad news today. But, it seems that Muhommad began his own jihad this morning, and his light plane was shot down by the US navy."

  Like any father who had lost a son, Kamal Pashwari was devastated at the loss of his eldest son Muhommad, at the hands of a US missile. The fact that he had died the death of a warrior was grim solace for him and his loathing of the Great Satan consumed his very being.

  He began thinking about revenge.

  Chapter 38

  White House, Oval Office

  Washington D.C.

  October 11, 11:18am

  * * *

  THE PRESIDENT stood to greet the heads of the military and intelligence once more.

  "Gentlemen, what’s news from the Gulf?"

  "Sir, we are running exercises on Ronald Reagan. Nearly all planes are in the air and we are running live fire exercises. I want to make any potential adversaries in the area nervous as hell" explained Admiral Nelson.

  "Good idea Tom, keep ’em on their toes. Any news on the weapon Adam?" as the President turned to face the CIA Director.

  "I’m afraid so sir. The plutonium residue from the crash site was produced in Reactor 3 at Chernobyl in the Ukraine. Of course this does not mean that the Russians were necessarily behind the attack, but we are one hundred percent certain that the weapon was one of theirs," explained a very businesslike Adam Scott.

  "Ok, I guess we all suspected the source of the weapon. I just don’t believe there is any possible reason for a Russian attack. Perhaps they are Chechnian rebels, or more likely middle eastern. I am going to contact President Arkadin and brief him on the situation and ask him for his assistance, any objections?" asked the Commander-in-Chief.

  "Our thoughts exactly Sir" explained the Admiral.

  Adam Scott had a spur of the moment idea "Sir, I have some contacts within Russian intelligence, to save some time, can I get them working on this right away?"

  "Good idea Adam. Let’s get things happening immediately, remember, as I said before, I want a target to hit."

  As soon as the men had left, the President decided he needed to make a phone call.

  Russian President Arkadin was connected in short order.

  "Good evening Mr. President" said President Connolly.

  "Good morning Mr. President, I was expecting your call" replied President Arkadin.

  "Then you know why I am calling?"

  "I am afraid I do Sir" said the Russian reverently.

  Without preamble the U.S. President asked "Can you guarantee me that Russia had nothing whatever to do with the attack on our aircraft carrier?"

  President Arkadin was equally honest "You have my absolute assurance that my nation had nothing to do with this attack. Unfortunately, I do believe the weapon was sourced here by illegal means. We are doing everything possible to track down any other weapons in the wrong hands."

  "I appreciate your honesty in this matter. We cannot take an attack like this lightly. I am planning a major offensive on the attackers when we find them. Can we count on your help to locate them?"

  "Of course Mr. President, we will do everything
we can. You must believe that Russia would never condone an attack such as this. It has not always been so, but I now believe that the friendship that exists between our two nations can ensure world peace if we together show we will not tolerate terrorism."

  "Thank you President Arkadin."

  "Thank you President Connolly. I will arrange for some of our best people to work on this with your people."

  "Excellent. I hope we can work together to remove this threat to world peace."

  Chapter 39

  White House, Press Conference

  Washington D.C.

  October 11, 3pm

  * * *

  THE PRESS gallery was all seated on time when Jennifer Warwick walked to the podium and tapped the microphone to ensure it was working. As Press Secretary it was her role to handle the regular briefings.

  " In the early hours of this morning in the Gulf of Arabia . . . ." Jennifer read the same description of the downing of the Cessna by a missile from Port Royal that was delivered to the President earlier the same morning. However, omitted from the statement given to her was the bit about a nuclear weapon being involved.

  "Questions?" she invited at the conclusion of her statement.

  The crowd leapt to their feet firing staccato questions.

  "One at a time, please. Louise?" Jennifer indicated the CNN journalist.

  "Do you have any idea if this was a genuine navigation error or something more sinister?" asked Louise.

  "It is too early to be certain, but we do not believe it would have been possible for an aircraft to mistakenly have the wrong navigation code, have radio failure, and stray into our exclusion zone. We believe this was a deliberate act" Jennifer explained.

  More hands shot up, Jennifer pointed to Tom Atkinson from ABC.

  "Do you have any idea where the plane took off from, or who was the pilot?"

  "It is way too early to tell, I may have some more information for you later in the day." Jennifer walked back to her office to the throng of shouted questions.

  Chapter 40

  Pashwari Palace

  Ryadh, Saudi Arabia

  October 12

  * * *

  KAMAL WAS furious with his son Muhommad for sacrificing his life. Kamal had no problem with martyrdom, as long as he and his family were not involved.

  But in addition to the U.S., it was himself who he really blamed. There is no way that this could have happened if Kamal’s own security had been foolproof. He should never have left the suitcases where his son could get to them.

  The bond between a father and his first born is perhaps the strongest bond on earth and Kamal was unsure how he could continue to live now that his son Muhommad was gone.

  However, the strongest feeling that Kamal had was the need for revenge. He was absolutely consumed with hatred for the United States, who took his beloved son. The fact that Muhommad was trying to murder thousands of U.S. sailors at the time, was not even considered.

  The worst thing for Kamal however, was that there was no body for him to bury. It would have been difficult of course, but if there was a body, he was sure he could have at least completed his job of the ritual washing and shrouding.

  Women are not permitted to attend a Muslim funeral anyway, so Kamal just took a private walk through the family cemetery, saying the ritual burial prayer as he walked.

  He passed the grave of his father Razak. Islam discourages the use of ornate grave markers and believes this money should instead be spent on charitable works. However, Kamal had resisted this practice and on his fathers death he had a simple stone tablet with Razak Pashwari inscribed and placed at the head of the body facing Mecca.

  Crying at a funeral is permitted, but wailing is frowned upon. However, in the solitude of the family plot, he could not control himself. He lay on the ground beside his father’s simple grave and cried a river of tears and screamed like a banshee.

  When he arose, Kamal felt like a changed man.

  Kamal decided that the U.S. must be taught a lesson, and he planned on making this a lesson they would never ever forget.

  Chapter 41

  CIA Headquarters

  Langley, Virginia

  October 12, 7am

  * * *

  ADAM SCOTT made the drive back to his haven at full speed. He told his driver/bodyguard to set a record on the way back, and true to request, he shaved thirty eight seconds off his best time for this regular trip.

  He had earlier briefed his Director of Intelligence Bill Simpson, a former field agent who had shone in the intelligence role.

  Adam picked up the phone and called him "Bill, can you come in, I have just spoken with the President."

  When Bill arrived and had gotten seated, Adam outlined his conversation with the President.

  "Bill, the President is mad as hell about the attack in the Gulf. He wants a target to bomb the shit out of. This will be your show. I will do all the White house liaison stuff, but as of right now I am giving you full reign on this. Let me know whatever resources you need, and you will have them. Just don’t screw up. Both our butts are on the line here." Adam Scott had risen to this job having diligently managed a number of other departments, but his best quality was pragmatism. One of his favorite quotes was from Clint Eastwood "a man’s gotta know his limitations". This was a quality much admired by all his staff.

  "Don’t worry. I won’t let you down, sir" said Simpson, and he sincerely meant every word.

  "The President has authorized us to contact Russian Intelligence for help with this, I guessed you would have some markers you could call in" Adam mentioned with a grin.

  "Leave it to me" said Simpson as he turned on his heels and hurried off.

  As soon as he reached his secure office, Bill grabbed the keyboard and typed an email to his counterpart in Russian intelligence. Things had changed a lot since the cold war. Bill and Oleg Karpov had met many times at conferences and briefing sessions at various ports all around the world. They both had a love of malt scotch, and had spent many hours sipping a "wee dram" and chewing the fat around a fire in an old castle in Scotland the last time they had gotten together the previous winter.

  The message was short and sweet:

  o.karpov@athenaimports.ru

  Hi Oleg, I have a problem with a shipment that could cause a potential disaster for both our companies, need to talk to you urgently.

  Bill just loved signing his initials, it brought a smile to his face every time.

  7am in Washington east coast US was 3pm in Moscow the next day, so Bill should not have been surprised to get a beep from his inbox within half a minute with a reply that was equally brief:

  I will call your other phone line. Standby.

  "Other phone" was spook speak for a secure line, with an encryption device fitted. Whilst a little unusual to communicate this way, it was certainly not the first time this had happened and Bill waited only a few seconds for the call to come through on the plain looking grey telephone at the back of his desk. This little unit had a Secure Transmission Unit integrated, and used state of the art two hundred and fifty six bit encryption.

  "William Stanford" began the Russian using the formal Russian style first two names greeting. Bill was seldom reminded of his middle name, the place of education of Simpsons for as many generations as anyone could remember.

  "Oleg Peotyr, good to hear your voice, I have a situation that requires some cooperation between our departments"

  "Of course my friend William, I was expecting to hear from you"

  "How did you know I was going to contact you?" asked a surprised Peterson.

  "I have already been told by my President to give whatever assistance I could, it seems bad news travels fast" explained Oleg.

  "I was told to be completely honest with the US about this matter. You have my solemn promise on that." Oleg’s voice was grave.

  "We had a submarine in the area and we were doing routine surveillance of your Gulf fleet. We were able to capture trac
es of the seawater from the crash site and analyze it the next day. There is no doubt that the enriched uranium from the bomb is Russian."

  "Thanks Oleg, we appreciate your support on this, this is serious stuff", Bill was equally solemn.

  "Oleg, I really need to find a way to prove that Russia was not behind the attack on the Ronald Reagan, can you please do some digging, I need to know where the weapon came from and which particular group got their hands on it."

  "Bill, you will have unprecedented support from our nation in this matter, I will call you the moment I have something for you" replied the Russian ending the connection.

  Chapter 42

  Pashwari Palace

  Riyadh, Saudi Arabia

  * * *

  BY NOW, Kamal had been head of his terrorist Brotherhood for over ten years but due to his vast fortune, he had been able to mask his involvement completely.

  That all changed the day his son died.

  He looked at the website for the U.S. news services. He was furious when there was no mention of the nuclear weapon. He felt his son had died in vain.

  Kamal summoned his cousin Ali, who was his second in command.

  "Ali, I have to go away on some personal business. I may be away for an extended period and I want you to look after the business whilst I am away."

  "Of course, Sir, you have but to ask. What can I do to help with this business?"

  "This is something personal. There is nothing anyone can do to help. I will have some papers for your signature later in the day. Please come back at 2pm."