Storm Unleashed

by Michael R. Stern

  “That's a first,” said Ashley. “I'll call Al Kennedy.”

  “Good idea. And call Jim Shaw.”

  Linda said, “Why is this all happening now? It doesn't feel coincidental. It's like, I don't know, like a kid causing as much trouble as he can.”

  * * *

  A STEADY WIND blew across the parking lot. Jim Shaw and Al Kennedy had already arrived. They emptied the car, and Fritz opened the school door. Al asked, “What do you need me to do, Fritz? Thanks for asking me to be here, by the way.”

  “Don't be too happy yet, Al. This is serious. A nuke has been stolen in Russia. We're going after it.”

  “Holy cow.”

  Jane, now Major Barclay, settled into Ashley's classroom. The president called to let them know Colonel Mitchell was ready. He asked if Fritz would come for him as soon as Tony arrived. Fritz instructed Al about George's usual jobs. None of them had keys to the cafeteria, though. “We may have to break in later.”

  Tony set up the generator. Fritz and Ashley had posted signs identifying each room's use. Major Barclay huddled with Colonel Mitchell. A truck backed up to the doorway.

  Al said, “Fritz, this looks like they know exactly what to do. It's so quiet.”

  “It'll get louder in a minute.”

  Al gasped when he walked past the classroom labeled HOSPITAL.

  Colonel Mitchell motioned to Fritz to join him. Fritz eyed Tony as he passed. Tony stuck his thumb in the air. The colonel said that the president was ready. When he grabbed the doorknob and pulled, the president and half-a-dozen secret service agents were waiting.

  “Thanks, Fritz.” By the time the door closed, the president was already talking to the colonel and Major Barclay. “Fritz, I have President Putin's floor plan. He's here.” The president pointed to what appeared to be a living room. “We'll get him first.” Handing Fritz a second map, he said, “His troops are ready. Here.”

  “Mr. President, do you want to get him right now, or bring in our guys first?” asked the colonel.

  “I want him here while we're unloading. He'll see we're ready to help. I don't want an incident, so he needs to see this unfold. The president stepped to the doorway, Mel Zack right behind. “Be ready. Keep the door open. Let's go.” Waiting on the other side, President Putin was startled.

  “I was expecting you at my door, Mr. President.” They shook hands as the translator spoke. Putin interrupted. “I speak and understand English. Some things are better to be unknown.”

  “There was no other way. If you will come with me, you will walk into the United States.”

  Putin stared at the rectangle in the middle of his living room and at the faces watching him. The president reassured him that everything would be fine. Slowly, as though his feet weighed tons, he crossed the room and into a granite hallway with tan lockers lining the walls. “Where am I?” he asked.

  “A school in America, Mr. President.” With a subtle nod from Mitchell, the outside doors opened and soldiers entered.

  “Mr. President, Colonel Mitchell will lead our troops into the area with your men. We are tracking the thieves by satellite. We believe they are headed for an airfield.”

  “Mr. President, this is most unusual,” replied Putin. “You are saying you want to go into Russia to stop them. From here?”

  “Yes. We'll go together, bring your troops, cut off the road, get the nuclear device, and bring it back here.” He pointed to the truck at the door. “We are running out of time. If you agree, we can go now.”

  Putin hesitated, watching the soldiers line the hallways with almost no noise. “A joint effort?” he asked. The president nodded. “Who are these thieves?”

  “I don't know. I'd like to capture them if possible. In any event, the warhead will be safe. We will dispose of it. But I need your agreement.”

  Putin examined the president with a penetrating stare. “How did you know?”

  “We can discuss that after.” He nodded to Fritz. With the paperclip on the map set at the outside of a barracks complex, the two chiefs of state returned to Russia.

  “Heads up everyone,” said the colonel. “You've all done this before. This time, it's a joint op with the Russians. We want prisoners, but we don't want casualties. They will shoot back, so don't give them a chance. Any questions?” No hands, no comments. “Remember, the Russians have no idea how this works. They may be jumpy. All the Russian speakers should go in the first group. You can help keep the Russians calm. Good luck.”

  When the door opened, the president and Putin led a line of men through. The Russians followed the example of the Americans in line, standing next to them in two lines. Heads nodded, hands shaken, the message had passed they were all working together. The Russian president introduced Colonel Mitchell to Marshal Kirinyenko, who said in almost perfect English, “To stop this truck, rocks may be our only form of road block. All my men have flashlights.”

  “Marshal, we want to avoid shooting if possible. We should line the road, take out tires. I hope we can take prisoners. But I've told my men not to get shot.”

  “I have told mine the same.” While they were talking, Fritz had set the map, leaving a twenty-mile cushion along the road where the truck was headed. “You only have a few minutes, Colonel. You should go now,” said Fritz.

  The soldiers entered Russia on the run and kept running, flashlights showing the way, as Fritz held the door. The sound of boots crunching on stone and soft commands in two languages came through the portal as the hall emptied.

  “Mr. President, the truck turned off, heading north,” said Major Barclay, holding the computer for the presidents.

  “What should we do?” asked Putin.

  “Hold up, Fritz,” said the president. “Come here.”

  “Ash, take the door.”

  The president told Fritz that the truck had turned off about three miles before the insertion. He asked if Fritz could change the map. “We need to get our guys back quickly.”

  “Hold this,” the major said, handing the computer to the president. She ran to the door, grabbed a rifle from a startled soldier still in the hall and ran through. They heard her calling, “Colonel Mitchell.”

  Fritz looked at the computer image. The truck moved along a straight line but seemed to be slowing down. President Putin said, “Yes, they slow down. But it is dark there. Can you make the picture better?”

  “Lin, can you work this thing,” Fritz asked. She handed TJ to him and enhanced the picture as the soldiers started to file back.

  “Gentlemen, they turned off and are slowing down. We're going in hot,” said Major Barclay, wearing trousers and a sweater. Marshal Kirinyenko looked at her and then at Mitchell, who said. “I'll explain later, Marshal.”

  “Fritz, maps,” said the major. “We're guessing. If there's a road there, they will be about here,” Jane pointed. “Let's go.” The entrance began again. Major Barclay directed the troops in three different directions, telling them to form a perimeter.

  “THEY'RE COMING back,” called the president.

  “Ash, direct traffic,” Fritz said. “Al, would you tell the truck driver they're coming.”

  The soldiers began to appear. The Russians spoke quietly among themselves. Moments before, they had been somewhere in Russia and were suddenly standing in a hallway. Between groups of returning troops, Captain Dolan led soldiers carrying a box labeled with the international symbol for radiation hazards. A couple of soldiers moved to the doors and placed the box in the open truck. Everything had happened quickly and smoothly. Putin merely observed.

  Trailing the last soldiers, Colonel Mitchell and Major Barclay came back, her arm slung over the colonel's shoulder. Jane's right pants leg was stained with blood and torn at the knee. “Medic,” Ashley shouted and followed Jane to the hospital room. The colonel walked to the presidents and Marshal Kirinyenko. Fritz heard the colonel say, “Mr. President, none of them would give up. Sorry sir.” Kirinyenko nodded to his president.

  “Mr. P
resident, if you would like, we can send your men home now,” said the president.

  “That is acceptable, Mr. President. But if I may, I have questions.”

  The two presidents went into Ashley's classroom. When they returned, President Putin waved Marshal Kirinyenko over, and whispered to him. The officer nodded, saluted, and told his men to prepare to leave. At Fritz's door, Colonel Mitchell thanked his Russian counterpart.

  “All set, Colonel,” said Fritz.

  “Nice to have met you, Marshal Kirinyenko.” Still grappling with the strangeness, the Russian shook hands with the colonel, saluted, and signaled his men to move to the door. With Tony beside him, Fritz watched as the column of Russians marched single file back to their own country, some smiling or nodding heads as they passed. Next to the door, one of the Americans who spoke Russian listened for comments he could relay to the colonel. When the portal cleared, Fritz removed the map from his desk and reset the portal to Putin's home.

  “THANKS, FRITZ,” said the president. “I told him about our new technology that affects atmospheric pressure. We can cause wormholes and walk inside from place to place. It's secret for now, I told him, but we want to use it to reverse climate change. I suggested a joint study with their scientists. It will keep him wondering. He asked where we were. I told him Oklahoma. Tornado country. I think the portal is safe.”

  “Not bad, Mr. President. That's as implausible as time travel, so he's sure not to believe you.”

  “Sleight of hand. Colonel, time to go home.” The immediate increase in hallway echoes reminded Fritz that his students would soon return.

  As if this mission were daily routine, the machine went into motion. The truck with the warhead left, the buses began to load, and the clean-up crew waited outside. Linda and Ashley, alerted by the activity, left the hospital room.

  “Where's TJ?” asked Fritz.

  “Jane has him. They're wrapping her legs, so they're both sitting still,” said Linda.

  Ashley was frowning. “She must have a four-leaf clover or a rabbit's foot or something I don't know about.” Since they had met in September, Jane had been wounded three times. In November, she had been shot when terrorists attacked the president's car in Washington. His wisecrack that Jane had a better scar than he did hid a touch of envy.

  “Time for me to go home,” said the president. “Sorry guys, but New Year's Eve is postponed. We still have the ship bombing to figure out. And now this.”

  * * *

  “THE RUSSIANS must have followed our comrades. We heard the gunfire but lost contact. I don't think any of them survived. The warhead was captured, I think.”

  “Don't concern yourself. Stolen nuclear material gives the Americans and the Russians something to think about in the new year. Besides, we've saved enough to buy more men. We don't need to pay that lot. Just get more. Oh, and Happy New Year.”

  Chapter 5

  “THANKS FOR your help, Al,” said Fritz.

  “I didn't do much. Can you tell me what just happened? It went so fast.”

  “Come to our place,” Fritz said.

  Before they reached the house, Jane had the president on the phone. He had called to thank them once again and to tell her he needed her in Washington the next day.

  Al joined them at the crowded kitchen table. Fritz made coffee and brought out pound cake. Everyone listened as Jane talked to the president. She handed Fritz her phone.

  “Mr. President, if Tony's here, why don't you come here?” he said. “No interruptions. Bring anyone you need with you.” He listened and said, “No problem. See you tomorrow then.” He handed the phone to Jane.

  Placing the phone on the table, Jane said that everyone who was needed to discuss both the ship bombing and the summit would come through the portal at ten the next morning. It would likely be the secretaries of state, defense, and homeland security, General Beech, Admiral Davis, the heads of the CIA and FBI, and of course the president and vice president. She looked around the table with a blank stare, still thinking. “I think that's it. Fritz, we'll use a classroom to meet. Okay? You know, he likes it here. And it will get him away from the vultures. Oh, and the NSA chief. How could I forget her?”

  Fritz asked, “Would this be a good time to add the Speaker?” Yanked from her reverie, Jane said she would ask the president.

  Ashley suggested that they disguise the classroom. “People in the government were behind the attack on the school,” he said. “Koppler. That Navy guy, Wixted, the one who fed information to Koppler. How do we know they didn't tell others?”

  “We don't,” said Jane.

  Ashley said he thought they should get to the school early and set up across the hall from the portal. That classroom was not being used. He said it should be easy to set up like a meeting space.

  “We're collecting equipment and uniforms in the morning,” Al said. “We should be done in about two hours. I told them I would open the doors at 9:30. They'll only be able to use the locker room entrance, in and out.”

  “Before you leave, stop down and let us know everyone's gone.”

  * * *

  BY NINE THE next morning, Tony, Colonel Mitchell and six soldiers had arrived from the secret airport. At quarter to ten, Tony hooked up the generator and called the planes. Colonel Mitchell lined up his men to form an aisle from room to room. At ten sharp, Jane signaled Fritz. He pulled the door and looked at surprised faces. The Oval Office occupants emptied into the room across the hall. The president came last, winked, but didn't speak. James and Mel stood aside as Jane and the president disappeared behind the closing door. He told the group that he wanted to discuss the explosion in San Diego and his proposal for the Middle East.

  The desks were arranged in a circle. The president asked the Director of Naval Intelligence for a status update on the ship bombing. Admiral Davis told them diving teams were searching for telltale debris on the ship and at the bottom of the mooring. At least four bombs had been set near the ship's munitions, where they would cause the most damage.

  “Any progress on the video cameras?” the president asked.

  “We spotted what you guessed, Mr. President,” said Doug Glassen, the FBI Director. “Four divers climbed over the seawall on Friday morning. We followed their movements to an SUV, but the plates were stolen.”

  “Were you able to get faces?”

  “All we can say is they appear to be Asian. They have their wetsuit hoods on in all the film we've reviewed so far. Sorry, sir.”

  “Thus far, no group has claimed responsibility. And nothing has shown up in our internet or phone surveillance,” said the national security advisor.

  The Speaker interrupted. “Where are we?” The president glanced at him, and continued his questioning.

  “John, have you had any response from the North Koreans?”

  “They haven't denied it, Mr. President. But they haven't actually responded to my inquiries.” The Secretary of State frowned.

  “What about the original film, the eyewitness?”

  “Mr. President, I have personally spoken to Mr. Burke and Mr. Griffin,” said the FBI director. “The NBC group said they'll get back to me. But they're stonewalling.”

  “Why? Don't they understand we may have a war on our hands?”

  “They're protecting a source, Mr. President.”

  The president's jaw muscles rippled, and his eyebrows lowered. After the flash of anger passed, he asked everyone for suggestions about next steps. Only the Speaker, arms crossed and scowling, had nothing to contribute.

  In the classroom down the hall, Fritz, Linda, and Ashley listened closely. Ashley and Jane had an audio connection between their computers. Linda took notes while TJ napped in his swing.

  “No wonder the president has problems,” Ashley said.

  “Fritz, which of them know about the portal?” asked Linda.

  “The veep does, the secretary of defense, but I don't know about the rest, or how he'll explain where they are. Obviously they
know they're not in the White House.”

  “If he's going to talk about the summit, they'll all know by the end of the meeting,” said Ashley. Colonel Mitchell walked in and sat down. He asked what had been discussed.

  “So far, only the ship explosion. Do you know the agenda, Colonel?” asked Fritz.

  “Jane briefed me last night. He's still got the Middle East to discuss.”

  In the room down the hall, the president said he had heard from leaders throughout the world that they had had enough of constant crisis. “I don't know about any of you,” the president said, “but I'm convinced we have a chance, maybe our best chance, to stop it.”

  Fritz said, “He's going to explain why. He's going to tell them.” He didn't expect the president to say, “Fritz, would you come here please?” Linda gasped. Ashley and the colonel just looked at him.

  “Did you know he would do this?” asked Linda.

  “I had no idea. I'll be back.”

  As Fritz pulled up a chair, Jane's eyes said it would be okay. He took a deep breath.

  The president said, “What I am about to tell you will remain here, not be discussed or even dreamed about.” He looked pointedly at the Speaker. “Last spring, our ambassador to Eledoria and his family were taken hostage. Our troops rescued them.” He paused and looked from face to face. “In September, the Narian nuclear program was terminated, not by the Narians or the Israelis, but by a joint special operations mission of the U.S. military.” He stopped again. Fritz could feel the tension grow as fast as his anxiety. “In the aftermath, Eledorian soldiers attacked an Israeli settlement in the West Bank. The same unit rescued those taken hostage.”

  “I don't mean to be rude,” said the Speaker, “but what's your point?”

  “My point, Mr. Speaker, is that you don't know the full stories. And if you'll let me finish, you'll understand why you can't talk about how these missions were accomplished.” No one could doubt the president's anger. He continued with the stories of stolen nuclear weapons in Pakistan and Russia that American soldiers had recovered. The vice president, whose serious look hid a devilish twinkle, had a tough time not smiling.