Her brother took her arm once again and ushered her out of the church. She knew she would have to greet the other mourners at a reception at the house later on. A neighbor had planned it along with the Minister’s wife. She’d just have to work to pull herself together. After all, she was usually the unflappable White House official, taking charge of staff meetings, making reports to the national security advisor, keeping her cool when new threats and new intel hit her Inbox. Then again, all of those duties were professional. This was personal.
As she stepped outside, she shielded her eyes from the bright sun and started to walk toward the limo that would take her and a few others to the cemetery for the short burial ceremony. She felt a tap on her shoulder and turned around.
“Samantha, I’m so sorry,” Tripp said, reaching out to touch her cheek.
She brushed his hand away and replied in a formal tone, “Thank you for coming. I’m sure you need to get back to Washington right away.” With that she turned abruptly, got into the limo and ordered the driver to head out. She never saw the look of devastation on Tripp’s face as the sleek black car moved away from the curb.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
ATYRAU, KAZAKHSTAN
“No entry without identification,” the soldier barked to Nurlan who was hobbling toward the door of his apartment building. He quickly pulled his company ID out of his back pocket and waved it in front of the first officer. “You wait,” the man ordered. He grabbed the ID card, peered at the photo, then up at Nurlan’s face before showing it to another guard. “You live here?”
“Yes, up on fourth floor.” Nurlan reached out for the card and slipped it back into his pocket. “I get inside. I have friends. Sister. Is all okay here?”
Nurlan had heard that transports filled with military personnel had landed earlier in the day and that the soldiers were fanned out all over the city, trying to contain the mobs screaming for food and water and keep looters out of the homes and apartment buildings. He had told Pete and Zhanar to stay inside and not venture out. They had been holed up in the apartment for the last several days. It was bad enough that Nurlan had to go out on the street to catch a company bus. He always waited inside until he saw it pull up, and then he raced as fast as his weak legs could carry him to make it before the doors closed.
The city was a mess. Still no lights. No power. No air conditioning. No new food supplies. No communication with the outside world. Not until today when the big government planes arrived. He heard about it at the plant where a cheer went up when their boss announced that the government had sent several plane loads of rice, bread, tea, even crates of mutton and beef. The boss said that crowds had descended on the airfield making it almost impossible to land, but the planes finally got in. He knew all of this because the government had also sent a private emissary to come to their nuclear facility with a special message.
Nurlan saw the soldier wave him inside and he scrambled up the stairs to his apartment. Pete and Zhanar were there, sharing a can of soup when he flew through the door. “I have news. Big news.” He pulled a chair up to the kitchen table and told them about the transports.
“We’re saved!” Zhanar practically shouted, throwing her arms around her brother. “We saw some jeeps out the window and couldn’t figure out how they could be running. Nothing else is moving. But we saw them filled with soldiers. They must have brought the jeeps on the plane, right?
Nurlan nodded and reached for a kitchen towel to wipe his forehead. It was stifling in the little apartment. Even with the windows open, there was no breeze today and the temperature was close to a hundred degrees. “Do we have any water left?”
“Only two small bottles,” his sister replied.
“Okay. Don’t worry. I get some at plant tomorrow. I bring home on bus. With soldiers outside, it be okay to get it home. I get more food too.”
“That’s great,” Pete said. “I have to say this has been a helluva summer you arranged for me.”
“I know it not what we planned.”
“Damn right! I thought we were going to hook up with some of the protest groups over here, like the ones in Almaty. You said there would be more meetings. But then this thing hits, and everything gets totally screwed up.”
“I know,” Nurlan said. “It all messed up here. I sorry.”
“Not your fault,” Pete said. “Actually, since this whole thing happened, and I’ve had to hang out here, I’ve had a lot of time to think about my project.”
“You mean your project about getting money from the White House?” Zhanar inquired. “You told me about that when you first got here. But then with all this trouble, you haven’t said anything for a while.”
“That doesn’t mean I haven’t been thinking about it.”
“What you think?” Nurlan asked, again wiping beads of sweat off his face.
“I’ve been trying to figure out things the S.A.I.N.T.S. can do to put more pressure on those bastards.”
“What kind of pressure,” Zhanar asked cautiously.
“When I saw those huge demonstrations back in Almaty it got me to thinking about some of the other anti-war groups we might be able to pull together and then make certain threats. I mean, we could threaten to do a lot of damage unless they pay up. Something like that.”
“I don’t think violence is going to get you anywhere but a jail cell,” Zhanar said, putting her hand on his arm. “I don’t want you to go to jail.”
“Don’t worry. I’m smarter than that. I just want to get them to focus on reparations. Stuff they promised us years ago, but never delivered. After all this time and all the people who have died from their damn tests, you’d think they’d feel guilty about all of that. But no. they sometimes pass some law, but then we never get the money.”
He turned to Zhanar and took her hand in his. “Look, I know your people here have suffered too. We’ve all seen the babies, the animals. Look at Nurlan’s legs. They should be stronger. He shouldn’t be in pain all the time. Okay, so he hides it. He doesn’t complain. But I complain a lot. Not for me. But for my family. Well, the family I had once.” He then stared into her eyes and continued in a low, dejected tone. “Do you know what it’s like to listen to your own mother writhe in pain from the cancer that’s eating her body? Do you know what it’s like to hear her cry at night when she thinks I can’t hear her? Do you have any idea what it’s like to watch someone wasting away when you know, you absolutely know that the damn government has medicines and money that might have saved her from all of that? Do you have any idea?”
Zhanar answered softly. “Yes, Pete. Yes, I do know. I’ve seen it here too. I’ve seen horrible things. Bad things that came after the Soviets did their own tests. We’ve talked about all of this. And I know it still hurts you. It hurts me too. But I don’t know what we can do about it. We don’t have any power. Not real power to go up against big governments.”
“Wait,” Nurlan interrupted. “We no have time for this talk now. I said I have news. Big news. I tell you but you promise no say to anybody. Yes?”
Pete and Zhanar stared at Nurlan and said at once, “What news?”
“Now I tell. At plant today, besides food and soldiers, government sent special man with orders. Orders from president.”
“From the president of Kazakhstan?” Zhanar asked.
“Yes. Right from top man.”
“What orders?” Pete asked.
“President now say we made special new weapon, and he wants use it again.”
“Weapon? What weapon?” Pete asked. “I don’t get it. You set off a nuclear test. Does he mean he’s going to nuke somebody or some country? I can’t believe this. Is he nuts or something?”
“I not know why but man say we take one more like first small nuclear device and we put on one of transport planes. They leave one here while we get all ready.”
“Where are you going to take it? This is crazy!” Pete said.
“I not sure yet. But I try find out.”
“S
o they’re going to put a nuclear weapon on a plane and go drop it somewhere?” Zhanar asked, her eyes wide with fear. “They can’t do that. You and your people can’t let them do that. It would start a war. What in the world are they thinking?”
“Man say it not kill anybody if it goes like last test. Up high. He say president no want kill anybody. He just want send message. Something like that,” Nurlan tried to explain.
“Send a message?” Pete asked. “He sent a helluva message when the first one went off and set this city back to the stone ages. That is if your bomb, or whatever it was, did all of that. And from what you’ve said, it really was the culprit.”
“I know. I know,” Nurlan said. “I feel bad about first test. Now with new order, I not know where bomb goes. I try find out. We just hear today that we get second one ready.”
“This is terrible,” Zhanar said. “But what can we do?”
“I not know,” Nurlan replied. “Maybe they send me with bomb like last time. They not know I was one who changed things on first test. They not find out. They still think I’m best computer guy.”
“No! They can’t send you,” Zhanar cried out. “The bomb could go off. Something could go wrong. You could be killed. You have to quit. Quit now!” she begged.
“Can’t quit now. Have to find out all plans. Then we see what I can do.”
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
GEORGETOWN
Hunt Daniels jogged along P Street and up the few steps to his door. He had managed to cut out of his office in the EEOB with just enough time to get in a run before his guest arrived. The gray stucco house with black shutters sat back from a road paved with weathered red bricks. Gray stone urns filled with geraniums flanked the stairs leading to the black front door. He had felt pretty lucky to still have the place after his ex-wife had decided she didn’t dig being married to a military type and left him for an investment banker who regularly came home for dinner. Hunt had been single since that debacle, and while he knew he had a pretty good thing going now with Cameron Talbot, they both had such busy travel schedules, he was glad when they could carve out an evening together. And tonight she had agreed to make it at his place.
It was pretty handy living in this neighborhood, about a seven-minute commute to the White House. Georgetown was where JFK had lived in five different houses during his political life and where a bunch of other senators, State Department types and Washington Post reporters now called home.
Once inside the house, he turned off the security system and raced upstairs, taking them two steps at a time. Peeling off his shorts and tee-shirt, he jumped in the shower and, as usual, marveled at the powerful flow. There were a ton of things wrong with Washington, but water pressure wasn’t one of them. He toweled off, ran his fingers through his short, sandy hair and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Should he shave again? No time. He did look a bit scruffy, so he quickly brushed his hair into some semblance of order and hurried to his closet when the doorbell rang.
He grabbed the phone on his bedside table since it was tied to the doorbell. “That you, hon?”
“It’s me,” she replied. “I’ve got my key.”
“C’mon in, I’ll be right down.”
Hunt reached for a pair of khakis, blue polo shirt and his old Docksiders. When he came down the stairs, there was Cammy, tossing her shoulder bag over the bannister and grinning up at him. “Hi beautiful!” He said, “Glad you could come by tonight. It’s been a while.” He took her in his arms and claimed her mouth. She opened to him, wound her arms around his neck and molded her body to his. When he finally broke the kiss, he looked down into her light blue eyes, eyes the color of robins’ eggs, and murmured, “Been a long time. Too long.”
“I know. I’m so glad to be back. The trip out to California was a total drag.”
“I want to hear all about it. C’mon into the kitchen. I’ve got a bottle of wine I think you’ll like.” She followed and as he opened a Beaujolais Nouveau, she remarked, “Thanks for getting a light one tonight. You know how the cabs give me a headache.”
“I have some Merlot too if this turns out to be too, well, new or whatever.” He took a pair of wineglasses from the cupboard and poured them each a taste.
“Actually this is pretty good,” Cammy said. “What’s the dinner plan?”
“I just called in an order of Mexican from that place over on Wisconsin. You know, the one on the corner?”
“You mean the restaurant painted the color of Pepto-Bismol?”
“Yeah. Lousy ambiance, but the food’s terrific and besides, I wanted to stay in and hear about your trip tonight. Okay with you?”
“More than okay. I’ve been in airplanes, staff meetings, strategy sessions, even test modules. I couldn’t wait to get back and just be with you,” she said leaning over to give him another kiss on the cheek.
“Keep that up and we’ll forget about the tacos.”
She laughed and pushed a few strands of strawberry blond hair back behind her headband. “No, I’m starved. For food.” She paused and smiled up at him. “Well, I have to admit I’m starved for you too.”
They took their wine and sat down at the kitchen table. “So tell me about California. Anything working yet on our little project?”
“Well, ever since you and Ken took me on as a consultant on this whole EMP exercise, I’ve been working with our people on a bunch of ideas, especially trying to check out the new Airborne Laser and see how accurate it could be. That’s why I had to go out to our California facility. You know all of that.” He nodded. She swirled the wine in her glass and took another sip. “So anyway, I get out there and go over the latest, but the trouble is, a lot of the work has really slowed down, Budget cuts, of course.”
“Thanks to California’s own Betty Barton,” Hunt said with a shrug.
“Exactly. You’d think the woman would worry about jobs in her own state even if she doesn’t appreciate the logic of our having decent missile defense systems. Seems like the DOD budget is always her favorite Pinata!”
“So you said they’ve slowed down on the laser? That’s a bummer.”
“Sure is. At least they’re still doing some simulations. The COIL system is absolutely amazing.”
“Yeah. I saw a memo on that one not too long ago. Chemical Oxygen Iodine Laser. Kind of a cool name, don’t you think?”
“I guess. The one they were working on has six infrared sensors that detect the heat from the plume of a missile. Then one of the lasers swings around to the right compass bearing that they get from the sensor and locks onto it. So then they can track it. And when they figure that out, they can fire off a second laser that finds the missile. They have to add in all sorts of calculations to measure atmospheric conditions and all of that. But finally, the plan is to have the laser hit the missile with enough energy to fry its skin so hot that it just self-destructs.”
“I remember that first actual test they did over the Pacific. It was pretty cool. Well, guess that wouldn’t be the right description,” he said, giving her a straight line grin.
“Well, now with those budget cuts, they’ve had to cancel the next test. Can you believe that?” Cammy groaned. “So the whole time I was out there, I was wracking my brain to see what else we could focus on to counter any sort of errant nuke that might set off an EMP. I mean, the White House knows all about the first laser, but I know you all want something better.”
“So, where do we go from here?”
Cammy set her wineglass down on the table, leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. She gazed up at the ceiling as if looking for divine guidance. “I do have some ideas. Not sure if I’m ready to go out on a limb just yet.” She glanced down and went on. “Let’s just say that I’m trying to wrap my arms around a concept.”
“A concept?” “Hunt asked, intrigued. “Every time you come up with a new concept, it blows my mind.”
“And usually blows our budget too. You should hear our CEO bitch about our bottom line.”
“Your bottom line? For God’s sake, you’d think he’d be overjoyed that we want to give you contracts all the time,” Hunt said.
“Oh, he likes to brag about special projects for the White House. It’s just that he never wants to bill you guys for actual time spent. He figures it looks better for our Pentagon contracts if word gets around that he’s kind of loaning my services to the president, if you get the gist.”
“Well, he should stop bitching. Last time the president called you in and you came up with that new missile defense system for our airplanes, you must have saved a ton of lives, to say nothing about the economic consequences.”
She smiled. “Yes, but you know you’re only as good as your last act. Or rather, in our business, as good as your next inspiration.”
The doorbell rang. “Great timing, must be the tacos.” Hunt jumped up and started for the door, calling over his shoulder, “Don’t worry, I didn’t forget the guacamole, and I also ordered you a salad.”
Cammy got up and set the table. She had spent so much time here in Hunt’s home, she knew where to find the plates, silverware and the paper napkins he had in the pantry. She was pouring more wine as Hunt came in with the bags. She watched him take the tacos, the container of black beans and all the condiments out and arrange them on a big platter. He always did things like that, trying to make things nice for her. She wouldn’t have minded just eating it all out of the plastic containers, but she had to admit it was sweet to have a man want to do things right. In fact, it seemed that he waited on her almost out of habit now.
And Hunt did a whole lot more than wait on her. He confided in her. He made her laugh. And he could even make her cry. Not by making her sad. Oh no, but by making her almost cry out when they were in bed together. Just watching him now, his broad shoulders leaning over the kitchen island, his hands carefully arranging their dinner, reminded her of the first time he had ever made love to her. Those hands. Those fabulous hands of his had touched every sensitive spot on her entire body. She remembered using the phrase E-words to describe that experience. He hadn’t known what she meant until she recited them. Erotic, ethereal, and ecstatic. That’s how the man made her feel, not just that first time, but every time. It was almost like a drug, something she craved whenever she thought about him. And it could be darned disconcerting when she was in the middle of a staff meeting, a simulation or sober encounter with her boss, and her mind would wander to the next time when she might feel the E-words again.
Castle Bravo Page 18