Castle Bravo

by Karna Small Bodman

  “But what do we do now?” she asked.

  “We’ll just have to stick it out until we hear back.”

  “But what about the money?” Zhanar asked with a worried frown. “I know we can sleep in the jeep but we’re going to need some more food pretty soon. I’m awfully hungry.”

  Pete checked his wallet. He only had thirty-seven dollars left that he hadn’t converted when he arrived in Kazakhstan. He wondered how much that would buy. He wasn’t about to ask the café owner. He wanted to find a local farm or someplace he could cut a deal. “Can you hang on for a little while? If we don’t get some sort of an answer in another half an hour, I promise we’ll go out and find some food, and then we’ll tell the guy here that we’ll come back later. I’ll have to tip him again, but maybe we can stretch things out.”

  “All right,” she said, drinking the last of her tea. She was watching the owner, hoping he wouldn’t come over and kick them out just yet. Then she saw him turn quickly and head through a door to some sort of a back room. When he opened the door, she heard a faint ringing sound. A moment later, he rushed back into the shop, scanned the room and shouted, “Anybody here named Pete?”

  Astonished, Pete stood up. “I’m Pete. How do you know my name?”

  “Somebody knows you are here. I have a telephone in the back. Man wants to talk to you.”

  “Oh no,” Zhanar whispered. “Somebody has found us. How could they? Who would it be? We only found this place ourselves a few hours ago. Do you think somebody followed us? I didn’t see anybody.”

  “No,” Pete said. “Nobody followed us. They followed this computer. This means they’re taking us seriously. They must have traced the email somehow, and now we’re going to have our answer.”

  “But what if they send somebody to arrest us?”

  “Hey, you. Pete,” the owner shouted. “I said get the telephone. In the back.”

  “C’mon,” Pete said to Zhanar. “This is the moment we’ve been waiting for.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  THE WHITE HOUSE

  “Is this Pete Kalani?”

  “Yes. This is Pete Kalani. Who is this?”

  “This is the White House communications operator. Will you take a call from Angela Marconi, special assistant to the president for Public Liaison?”

  “Angela? Sure. But how did you find me?” Pete asked, his voice incredulous.

  “I will put Miss Marconi on the line. Hold please.”

  Angela was nervous. She was seated next to Ken Cosgrove in the Situation Room along with Hunt Daniels, Samantha, and several other NSC staffers. They were all listening as the call was being put through. They had planned this out, and now it was up to her to open the conversation.

  “Okay, Angela,” Ken Cosgrove said reassuringly. “We need you to do this. Gain his confidence. Take your time and be sure to keep him on the line. Tell him you got his email, that you’re sorry you didn’t respond to his other messages. All the things we’ve gone over. Keep it friendly, conversational. Check your talking points, and then turn it over to me. Are you all right with this?”

  Angela took a deep breath. She had never been in a meeting in the Situation Room before. Her job didn’t call for such a venue. After all, she had spent most of her time dealing with special interest groups who were trying to get on the president’s schedule for one reason or another. Just yesterday she had fielded requests from the Boy Scouts, the top women’s soccer team and the American Association of Professional Philosophers. Now, here she was tossed into the middle of a national security emergency. One that could mean life or death to millions of Americans. How could she be philosophical about that? She sat up straight in her chair and pulled the microphone closer. She gathered her courage.

  “Yes, I’m ready. Put him on.” There was a long pause, and then she heard the operator’s voice again.

  “I have Mr. Pete Kalani for Angela Marconi. Go ahead please.”

  “Pete? Angela here. First, how are you? Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m okay. But how did you people find me?”

  “I have to admit that the White House is pretty good at finding things. Uh, people I mean. But I want to apologize to you for not keeping track of your earlier messages.” She glanced down at the talking points. “You see, I did get a number of emails that had your name on them, but I have to admit that I’ve been swamped. What I mean is that things have been really hectic around here what with a lot of problems, the people we arrested who were trying to blow up some of our trains in New York and a lot of other issues. Well, you may have read about that. And, of course, there’s the upcoming election. Now, I didn’t mean to put you off. Seriously, Pete. It’s just that I guess I didn’t quite understand the gravity of the situation. But I’m glad, really glad, Pete, that you’ve contacted me again because we really need your help.”

  “Yeah, I figured that last message would get your attention. Like I said in the email, I know some things that I decided to warn you about.”

  “That’s terrific, Pete. I’m so glad you are coming forward. You are truly to be commended for this. But may I ask just why you made this decision? I mean, in the other emails, I did save them by the way. In the other emails, you sounded pretty mad at us. I mean, pretty mad at our government. And yet, now you are trying to be helpful, and I can’t thank you enough for that.”

  “Let’s just say that yeah, I’ve spent the better part of my life hating you people. All of you people in Washington for what you did to my family. To all of our people. You made cripples out of them. You gave them diseases. You made them die young.”

  “He’s getting agitated,” Ken whispered. “See if you can calm him down and then give him to me.” Angela nodded.

  “Pete. Listen Pete. I hear you. I truly do. I’ve done a lot of research on this situation, and we’ve got our staff working on it right now. But first we need to talk about this threat you referred to in the email. Can I have you talk to Ken Cosgrove?”

  “Who’s Ken Cosgrove? Can he do anything for us?”

  “Yes, Pete. He can. He is the president’s national security advisor. And he’s sitting right here next to me. May I put him on?”

  “Yeah. Okay. Put him on.”

  Ken leaned into his own microphone and said in a soothing tone, “Hello Pete. First, let me give you my personal thanks for contacting us about this threat to our country. Can you tell me about it?”

  “I might. But first I want two things.”

  Hunt passed a note to Ken that said A ransom? Millions??

  “Two things. All right. Why don’t you tell me what you would need.”

  “Okay. First, I want you to get money to the Kalani clan in Hawaii and all of the other people who were in the way of those tests. The ones in the Marshall Islands, Enowetok, Bikini Atoll. All of them.”

  “I can work on that. Are you saying you want money sent to you personally?”

  “No. Dammit. I’m not doing this for myself. It’s for all the people who suffered during your damn tests. And I don’t want you to work on that. You people always say you’ll work on something and then nothing happens,” Pete shouted into the phone.

  “I know what you mean, Pete. Believe me I know,” Ken said in a calm voice. “You see getting money for reparations, or anything else for that matter, comes from the Congress.”

  “Yeah. And they say they’ll vote money, and they write reports and they make promises and then nothing, absolutely nothing happens. Do you know how long we’ve been waiting for help from you guys? Decades. That’s how long. I watched my mother die of cancer because of neglect. I watched other people get polio and all sorts of other things because of what you did out in the Pacific. And all we do is wait and hope. And then nothing happens.”

  Ken exchanged a look with Samantha who was leaning forward, listening to the exchange. “Pete. Listen to me. I’ve looked into this case, and you know what? You are absolutely right. I want to give you my word, my solemn word that I will do every
thing in my power to shepherd a bill through the appropriate committee of the Congress to get proper reparations. I give you my word on that.”

  There was silence on the other end.

  “Pete? Pete? Are you still there?”

  “Yeah. I’m here. I was just thinking, that’s all.”

  “All right now. You said there was a second request.”

  “Not a request. I need another promise. An absolute promise. And if I get it, then I’ll tell you everything I know.”

  “What else do we need to promise?” Ken asked.

  “You need to promise not to hurt someone.”

  “Not hurt someone? We don’t want to hurt anyone, Pete. We want to save people, not hurt people. Tell me what you mean.”

  “There’s this guy, this friend of mine, this good guy. His name is Nurlan Remizov. He’s from Kazakhstan, and he’s an exchange student at UCLA with me.”

  “And this Nurlan Remizov. He’s a friend of yours and you want to protect him?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Who would want to harm him?”

  “You would.”

  Startled glances were exchanged around the table as several members of the staff were scribbling notes.

  “Why would we want to harm your friend? Is he part of a plot against us? Is he planning something? Is that what you’re trying to warn us about?”

  “No! Yes! I mean no,” Pete said in an agitated voice. “I said I would tell you, but first you have to promise, and I mean promise that Nurlan will be okay.”

  Hunt was scribbling again on a pad. He passed the note to Ken. It said, Suicide bomber? Terrorist? Someone coming here? Where? When? Ken nodded to Hunt.

  “Now Pete, you say if I promise to keep Nurlan safe, you will tell me what is going on, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Let’s just go back a bit. Can you just tell me if your friend, Nurlan, wants to harm the United States. Is that it? And you want us to stop him?”

  “Yes. But it’s not his fault. Really, it’s not his fault. He’s being forced to do something, and it’s not his fault,” Pete sounded like he was practically crying into the telephone.

  “It’s all right, Pete. We’re going to work together. You and me. We’re going to do this together. Okay?”

  There was a long pause, and then they heard Pete let out a long breath. “So here’s the deal. First you say you’ll protect Nurlan. You say it!”

  “We will protect Nurlan,” Ken said.

  “Good. That’s good. Now here’s what I know.”

  Pete went on to explain how the nuclear test caused complete havoc in the city of Atyrau. How he had gone over there not just to get a summer job, but to hook up with some of the anti-war groups who had suffered under Soviet domination and testing just like his people did. Pete talked about the S.A.I.N.T.S. and how he had wanted to figure out ways to threaten the politicians in Washington. But then when the bomb went off and he saw all the people dying in the hospitals and others needing food and water, he changed his mind. He talked about the soldiers coming in big transport planes to try and restore order.

  Hunt pushed another note over to Ken as Pete was describing the chaos. “EMP effects. Now what?” Ken dashed off a note that replied, “Give him time. Got to keep him on phone.”

  Pete then talked about his friend Nurlan, who was a computer genius and how he got a job at the nuclear facility. He described how Nurlan had tried to sabotage the original test, not knowing what the effect would be. Then he paused and said, “Nurlan came home one day and told me that the president had ordered them to load another one of the small weapons on a transport plane. I will tell you where it’s going, but first you have to promise again that you’ll get us the money and medicine and you’ll protect Nurlan.”

  Ken replied. “You’ve got my promise on that, Pete. This is an incredible story, and I can’t tell you how much we appreciate your contacting us with this important information. So please go on.”

  Pete took a deep breath and blurted it out. “He said they were flying to a base in China and then getting on a boat and going to California.”

  “California?” Ken sat up in shock as others around the conference table looked positively stricken. “Why California? Did Nurlan say why they were going to California?”

  “Yes. He said that the president was upset that the United States was putting sanctions on his country and messing up trade and stuff like that. Oh, and it wasn’t all of California. I know the state. I go to school at UCLA with Nurlan. I told you that. He said they were going to San Francisco.”

  “Is there any reason they would want to target San Francisco in particular?” Ken asked, furiously taking notes.

  “I don’t know.”

  “This is incredible news, Pete. Absolutely incredible.”

  “Look, I gotta go. I’m in a café and the owner is shouting at me to get off his phone. I’ve talked too long. I’ve said too much.”

  “No! Wait! Just one more question. Please, Pete, don’t hang up. Just tell me when Nurlan left Atyrau? When did the transport leave with the weapon?”

  “Four days ago.”

  And with that, the line went dead.

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  EAST OF ATYRAU, KAZAKHSTAN

  “That was terrific!” Zhanar said, hugging Pete. She had followed him to the back room, stood close and tried to listen in.

  “Are you off my phone?” the proprietor asked in an irritated voice. “How did somebody know you were in my place?

  “We’re all done,” Pete replied. “And, uh, that was a friend. I told him I was coming to town, and he could call me here.” It didn’t sound very convincing, but he didn’t know what else to say.

  “We don’t get a lot of calls here,” the man said and then shrugged. “You want anything else to eat?”

  “We probably should order something,” Pete whispered. They went back to the counter, and Pete scanned a blackboard with a menu written in yellow chalk. “What does it all say?” he asked Zhanar.

  “We’ll take one of your lamb shish kabobs and an order of Plov. We’ll split it,” she said and then murmured to Pete, “I still have some of my savings. I just want it to last.”

  When they got back to their table, Pete leaned in toward her. “You heard most of that, right?”

  “Yes. I can’t believe you actually got a call from Washington. This is amazing. But do you think they can stop this? Do you really think they’ll take care of Nurlan? I’m so worried about him.”

  “Me too. But remember, he’s a pretty crafty guy. And it seems like he’s the smartest guy in that whole group when it comes to programming stuff. So he’ll probably be okay on the boat.”

  “But the Americans will try to find them. They have to find it and stop it. And if they stop it, the people on board might get into a fight or something. He could be killed,” she said.

  “Here’s your order,” the owner said, putting down their food. “Anything else? More tea?”

  “No thanks, this is plenty,” Zhanar said. They both dug into the mixture of rice and vegetables, and she continued in a low voice. “What do we do now?”

  Pete took his time to think about a response. He had been so intent on getting out of Atyrau to a place where he could get a message to the White House, he hadn’t really thought through their next move. They couldn’t go back to the city. It would still be a mess. They were low on funds, and this little town didn’t look like a place where they would want to stay and look for work. No, he’d have to figure out some place else to go. He had to protect Zhanar. But at the end of the summer, he had to get back to the States. Back to school. Maybe she had some relatives somewhere else. Some place where they could go for a while. They hadn’t talked about that, and he didn’t want to use up her savings and rely on her contacts all the time. It just wasn’t right. Should he have asked that Ken person to send him some money? No, that would have made his plea for reparations sound too much like a personal ransom or blackmail
or something. He didn’t mean that. Besides, they knew he was here. They might have a way of trailing him. And if they caught him somewhere, he could be arrested for blackmail. At least he thought they could.

  He ate some of the lamb and glanced up at Zhanar again. She was so pretty, so trusting. She had never hesitated when she outlined her idea of getting far enough away so he could send his message. And she had quickly packed up and announced that she was going with him because she knew the country, the language, and besides, she wanted to stay with him no matter where he went. She had snuck out of the apartment building with him and crept through the streets looking for some sort of car they could steal. She had been scared to steal one, but he had told her it was the only way they could get away. He had thought about the buses that took the workers to the nuclear plant, but they were parked in a lot that was too far away, so he had told her to look for the jeeps that the soldiers had brought in. They had avoided the crowds that still roamed the main streets and had finally spotted a jeep parked near the wharf. She had held a small flashlight for him as he had tried to hotwire the car, a little trick he had learned from some of the guys back at UCLA.

  When they got the engine started, she had tossed their bags of food, water and clothes in the back seat and jumped in next to him. She had directed him to the back roads, winding around the most industrial parts of the city. Places that had been shut down. Places where nobody lived. It was there that they had siphoned the gas. They had driven to the outskirts and then hit the open road. It was then that Pete had gunned the engine, knowing that there wouldn’t be any other cars on the road. When they got several miles out of town, he had suddenly felt free. Free of the heat. Free of the mobs, the violence, the almost claustrophobic sense of being trapped in their little apartment for days on end. He was free. They were free. But now, after their escape, after the email and the phone call. Now what? For a moment he thought back to his grammar school classes where the teacher always made the kids write reports in September with the title, “How I spent my summer vacation.” There’s no grade school class that would ever believe how this summer had turned out.