“Our nuclear plants provide about twenty percent of our electricity, and those are already hardened,” the Energy deputy said. “But our gas-fired plants have electronics-based controls, so they’d be more vulnerable. Hydroelectric power is a problem. I’d have to check on coal-fired generation.” He sat back and folded his arms. “This is massive. And the private sector couldn’t handle the costs.”
“We know that,” Samantha said. “That’s been the hang-up all along. And we can’t ask them to do it all. We’re talking national security here. But as you analyze the needs in your various areas, I would refer you to the last report filed by the former EMP Commission.”
“That’s right,” one deputy volunteered. “I remember we had some sort of group looking into all of this. But I haven’t heard anything in a couple of years.”
“That’s because after they testified before the House Armed Services Committee, the Members ignored their recommendations and said they had other, more pressing needs. So they disbanded the Commission, and look where we are now.” Several of the deputies squirmed in their seats. Others took notes.
“And so your job, starting now, is to put these plans together along with estimates of funding costs. There’s already some work being done by our Legislative Affairs people to try and influence a few House Members about the need, in general, to harden the grid, but we also need to have replacement parts available, rescue teams ready to be called up, transportation options shifted from one part of the country to another. And since no one could ever predict where such an attack might take place, although the coastal cities seem like the best bet at this point, we should focus our initial planning efforts there.”
“What about our missile defense capabilities?” the Commerce deputy asked.
“You can be sure they’re working overtime on this issue. In fact, they’ve been on it for a long time because they would be our first line of defense. And that means the deployment of more interceptors, more radar and satellites and more funding for the Airborne Laser among other projects. Unfortunately, Congress hasn’t been on board.”
“After this, you can be sure it’ll get their attention,” the Treasury deputy said. “If there ever was an institution that responded almost exclusively to the latest headlines, that’s it.”
“Well, you can be sure our Legislative Affairs people, along with all of yours, should be on the Hill as soon as this comes out,” Samantha said.
The door opened and Samantha’s assistant burst in. “Sorry to interrupt,” she said breathlessly, “but it looks like the Navy may have spotted the ship.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
THE PACIFIC
“We just notified the Naval Carrier Group that’s out there. Told them we’ve spotted a ship on our radar. I tried to contact them but they didn’t respond. May not be the right one. Then again, it’s heading toward San Francisco, and we’re going in to get a visual,” the pilot said.
“How close do you think we can get without arousing suspicion? I sure hope they don’t have a search radar on board,” Cammy said.
“Planes fly through this area all the time,” Hunt said. “It’s better for us to take a look than having Navy helos all over the place.”
“You’re right on that score,” the pilot said. “The Carrier Group is going to stay beyond the horizon. Don’t want to spook these guys into launching quickly.”
“Exactly,” Cammy said. “But now that the storm has moved on, I’m sure that the ship can pick up speed, and since we’re about a hundred miles from the coast, that means they could make their move any time now.”
“So we’ll head over, scope it out, contact the group again, and if it looks like it could be our target, we’ll set up.”
“I’ve been working with this AESA system, testing it out, and it looks like our best bet for a pre-emptive strike,” Cammy said. But would it work? She had only done simulations. And if it didn’t work and they launched, she’d have to rely on a new, untested, airborne laser. As far as she was concerned, that was just too scary a proposition to think about. No, she had to make this new AESA radar work. She was pretty proud of her company for developing it. They had named it the Active Electronic Steered Aperture, and in addition to testing it on an F-35 fighter jet, thank goodness they had also used this 737 as a test bed. As the pilot headed closer to the ship, Cammy headed to the special radar control panel.
“We can make better time now,” the ship’s captain said to his first mate. “Take it up to twenty knots.”
“How much longer before we get close enough to launch?”
“Not sure just how many miles out we can be. I have to double check that with their supervisor. Far as I’m concerned, the sooner the better. I want to get rid of that cargo and get the hell out of here.”
“I’m with you there,” the first mate replied. “Wait. That plane up there. Do you think they’re the ones trying to contact us? Do you think somebody is onto us?”
The captain craned his neck and shrugged. “We’ve seen a few planes here and there the whole time we’ve been crossing.” He grabbed his binoculars. “Doesn’t seem to have any military markings or anything. Looks like it’s private. No sense in responding. We’ve got a job to do.” He checked his watch, turned and headed down from the bridge. “Gotta go check on a launch time. By my reckoning, it could be any time now. So hold ‘er steady, and I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Can you see that?” Hunt asked Cammy. “She’s flying a Panamanian flag. Looks like an old fishing vessel of some kind. But, it’s got some antennas and look at that equipment aft. That big tube could be the missile launcher, and the crew is running around like they’re getting ready to set it up back at the transom. That’s got to be the ship.” He shouted to the captain. “Radio the carrier group. This has to be it. And it sure looks like they’re preparing to launch. Jesus!”
Cammy and the other technicians on board raced to turn on the special radar. It began radiating. They worked together to position the beam, so they could aim it directly at the ship below. The pilot kept the plane on a circular course, as steady as possible. Cammy stared at the equipment, held her breath and after several tense moments, she cried out, “We’ve got it in range. Now we’ll paint the ship” More adjustments were made, and as Hunt looked on, Cammy said, “Now comes the tricky part. Instead of such a wide beam, we’ve got to twist it down to a very narrow shaft”. She worked the controls and began the beam shaping. It was a slow process. She had to pray that the crew on that ship wouldn’t get their act together to launch the missile before she narrowed the field. Another minute, another calculation, another adjustment.
“During the tests yesterday, you said you could bring it down to a pencil beam,” Hunt said, hovering over her and staring at the image on the screen. “This is amazing.”
“Exactly,” Cammy said, working her controls. “Now, when we get it down to the right size, we stage an AEA.”
“Airborne electronic attack,” Hunt said. “Kind of like what they were planning to do to San Francisco in a way right?”
“Kind of.” She stared at the screen, nodded slowly and said cautiously, “Now, watch. We’re going to inject a virus down the beam, aim it right at the ship. You can see it there on the radar scope. The radar itself becomes a weapon to send high powered energy down to cook the electronics on board. It’s not the same kind of pulse that’s in an EMP, but it has a similar result. You just have to be awfully darn accurate with this thing.”
“Carrier admiral’s on the radio,” the pilot shouted. “He’s reminding us about the promise not to harm the crew.”
“An AEA won’t kill the people, just their electronics,” Cammy called back. “Tell him that’s the only weapon we’re using now. And if it works, he can send in his seals to clean up after us.” “We got the launcher ready to go,” the supervisor said to Nurlan. “The erector is at the right angle. The weapon is loaded and ready. Time for you to work your magic.”
Nurlan stared at t
he launcher. It was the deadliest, scariest sight he had ever seen. When they had set off the first test back in Kazakhstan, he wasn’t right on top of it. Now here he was, watching with mounting dread as the missile was locked into place. All it needed now were his computer commands.
The supervisor started to shout to the crew. “That damn plane is up there again. What are they doing?”
Everyone on deck stared at the sky. Nurlan took his eyes off his keyboard and looked up too. “They’re just up there. Circling. You think they attack us?” he shouted.
“Hurry up!” the supervisor ordered. “Get this thing launched fast. And I mean now before they … whoever the hell they are … before they can stop us.” He ran to where Nurlan had set up his computer control station. “I said now!”
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
THE WHITE HOUSE
“Dr. Talbot’s plane believes they’ve spotted the ship,” the Admiral said. “We’re in a holding pattern about thirty-five miles east. As soon as we find out if the AESA system is able to knock out the controls for that launch, our seals will head in.” The teleconference was underway in the Situation Room where Ken Cosgrove, Samantha Reid, the chief of staff, and secretary of Homeland Security were gathered around the gleaming mahogany conference table. Their eyes were glued to the screen as the admiral from the Naval Carrier Group reported in.
Samantha had raced back to the West Wing from the meeting in the SCIF and now sat transfixed as the admiral’s image was on one side of the screen, the Navy secretary on the other. The SecDef and Coast Guard commandant shared a second screen.
“How will we know if it works?” Samantha whispered to Ken who was sitting on her right.
“We’ll have to trust Dr. Talbot and the technicians on board the 737 on that one.”
“But what if they use that new radar system and it doesn’t really prevent the launch?”
“Then MDA takes over. The missile defense folks are up and running at Vandenberg. They’re tracking the ship as we speak.”
Samantha realized she was holding her breath as the officers continued to describe the action over the Pacific. It was happening. After weeks of searching and untold high level strategy sessions, after presidential phone calls and FBI investigations, her nightmare of an EMP attack on America was finally being played out. She knew that Cameron Talbot was a genius at this sort of thing and that Hunt Daniels had been with her on several of her former exploits. But this one was the biggest ever. This one meant the survival or possible destruction of one of the country’s most beautiful cities. And this one now depended on one kind of technology knocking out another kind. Could they do it? Samantha found herself staring at the screens again, saying a silent prayer.
Nurlan’s fingers clicked over the computer keys. He first typed in the wrong password. Then he used a set of false codes. He didn’t want to put in the right ones. He had been stalling as long as he could, but his supervisor and the other crew members were screaming at him to hurry. They all talked about the great victory President Surleimenov would have over the Americans. The ugly Americans who were demanding intrusive inspections. The government in Washington that was imposing sanctions on the Kazak people along with their top officials. The president had said the Americans were to be taught a lesson, and this would indeed be a teachable moment. But Nurlan wanted no part of it. The people who lived in the city of San Francisco were innocent, just as his people who lived in the city of Atyrau were innocent. And look what happened to them.
“What’s the matter with you?” his boss bellowed. “You know the right codes. Put them in. Right now!”
Nurlan began to type in the sequence and then sat stunned, staring at the screen. “Look. Something’s wrong.”
The supervisor leaned over the screen. It was black. “Reboot, you idiot.”
Nurlan tried to reboot. But nothing was working. The screen remained as dark as the nightfall that was fast approaching. He looked up at the sky and saw the plane still circling. “It’s them,” he cried out, pointing to the plane. “They must have jammed the signals or something.”
“How could they do that?” the supervisor demanded? He gazed up and shouted, “They’re not shooting at us. They’re just circling around. How in hell could they stop your computer from working? You must have done something. You’re screwing up the launch and sabotaging our mission.”
“I not do that,” Nurlan protested. “Get others to try.” He motioned to another technician.
Just then the ship’s captain came running down the ladder from the bridge. “What’s happening? My GPS won’t work. It’s dead.” He looked at the men scrambling to set up additional computers. “Looks like your systems are dead too. Did you guys do something crazy with this launch system of yours?” he shouted in an accusing tone, waving his arms toward the missile that sat erect on the transom.
“No! Nothing’s working. We tried the launch codes. At least Nurlan here said he tried. But the computers are dead. Look. All of them. What do we do now?”
“Must be the Americans,” the captain said, peering out toward the horizon. “They must have some sort of new weapon. At least our engines are still working. We’ve got to get out of here before they come for us.”
“What if they do come?” one technician cried out.
“The AK-47’s are below.”
The Navy’s tank landing ship known as an LST was part of the Carrier Group. An amphibious vessel, it had been on maneuvers and now did a launch of its own. The 23-foot long Zodiac slipped into the choppy water with eight Navy Seals on board. In the darkness, their inflatable rubber boat could go over 50 MPH, but they kept their speed much lower as they made their way toward the trawler, donned their night vision goggles and pulled up alongside. They spotted two armed crewmen portside. Three seals pulled themselves up on the transom, others came over the starboard side. Two of them crept around to port, took aim and shot the crewmen with rubber bullets. The men cried out as the seals rushed over to muffle the sound. They quickly tied up their prey and moved stealthily to the bridge where they found the captain and first mate.
Seeing them unarmed, the seals shouted, “You’re under arrest,” and leapt forward to quickly handcuff the ship’s officers. “Where are the others?” one seal asked, brandishing his weapon.
The captain was stunned. Who were these guys? How had they managed to get aboard his ship? Where were his crewmen with the AK-47’s? He looked at the guns the seals were carrying. His eyes were wide with fear. “Don’t shoot. I’m just the captain. I had nothing to do with anything else. I just run the ship. Others pay me to take them here.”
“Where are the others?”
“Down below. Please don’t kill us.”
“We’re not here to kill anybody. We want the others.” One seal marched the two officers down the ladder while the other raced ahead. He joined the remaining seals who were about to head below to the bunk room.
When they burst in, Nurlan, the supervisor and five technicians held their hands up.
“We have no guns. Don’t shoot,” the supervisor said.
“You’re all under arrest.”
“Says who?” one technician called out.
“Says the United States Navy!”
“We’re just passengers here,” the supervisor said somewhat lamely.
“Passengers? Then who’s in charge of that missile up there?”
No one answered as the seals swept through the room, slapping handcuffs on all seven men. “Who is Nurlan Remizov?” the team leader demanded.
Nurlan cowered in the corner. When the others looked his way, he knew he had to answer. “I Nurlan. Why you know me?”
“It’s not important. You will come with us. The rest of you will stay here. Reinforcements are on the way.”
A cheer echoed throughout the Situation Room complex as the secretary of the Defense announced, “She did it.” He described the AESA radar and the virus attack sent through the narrow beam, creating the airborne electronic attac
k. “And the seal team has secured the ship.”
“What about Nurlan?” Samantha asked, posing the question through the microphone in front of her place at the table.
The SecDef turned to one of his staff who nodded and handed him a note. “He’s been ID’d and sequestered from the others.” He checked the note and added. “He’ll be debriefed as soon as they’re all moved to the carrier.”
“If word gets back to the Kazaks that he had some connection to us, his life could be in danger,” Ken said.
Samantha leaned over and whispered to Ken, “Well then, we’ll have to see to it that they never find out.”
CHAPTER SIXTY
LOS ANGELES INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT
The couple retrieved their baggage, stood in a long customs line, told the agent they had nothing to declare and finally were waved off toward the exit. As soon as they pushed through the double doors, they were greeted by two dozen young people wearing black S.A.I.N.T.S. T-shirts and waving newspapers.
“There he is.”
“Over this way.”
“Hey Pete. Welcome home.”
“Did you know you were a hero?”
Pete Kalani broke into a wide grin as his friends rushed up to give him bear hugs and pats on the back. “What’s going on? How did you guys know I’d be here? This is amazing.”
One of the club members rushed up and said in a conspiratorial tone, “Your friend Nurlan gave us the scoop on your flight. Said he got it from a government contact. But we don’t want the press or anybody to know Nurlan’s name.”
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