Castle Bravo

by Karna Small Bodman

  “What a minute,” Pete said excitedly. “Nurlan is back? You’ve seen him?”

  “Yeah. He got back yesterday. In fact, he said he’d be here to meet you. The press knows about you, just not him. You’ll probably be inundated when you get back to campus.”

  Another member shoved a newspaper into Pete’s hands. “You’re all over the papers. Wait’ll you see the stories. They know a lot about you. They just didn’t have your arrival time. Glad that we did, though.”

  “What stories?” Pete asked, looking confused.

  “Right here in the LA Times. Look. ‘UCLA student warns US of possible attack.’ And here’s another one in the student newspaper, ‘Congresswoman Betty Barton to visit campus and meet student hero’. Says here that she’s introduced legislation to create a special reparations fund for victims of US nuclear tests in the Marshall Islands. Can you believe it?”

  Pete grabbed the papers. A special fund? Help for the families? Already? Agreement that he was right all along to push for this kind of help? He quickly read the article as his friends gathered around exchanging smiles and high-fives. It said that the congresswoman was especially pleased that a student attending college in her district was key to the dismantling of a plot to attack San Francisco, and she was looking forward to meeting this hero and telling him, in person, about the new fund. It went on to say that she had been working closely with the White House and had learned about the need for reparations from the White House director of Homeland Security, Samantha Reid, and her colleague, Angela Marconi, director of the White House Office of Public Liaison.

  “Hey, guys, look at this. Angela Marconi is the one I’ve been emailing for months and now it’s all coming together.” He glanced down at the woman by his side. “And listen up. I want you to meet someone really special. This is Zhanar Remizov. She helped me survive over there in Kazakhstan and she’s Nurlan’s sister.”

  “Great.”

  “Hi there.”

  “Nurlan’s a good guy.”

  “Hey, he’s supposed to be here.”

  Pete looked out over the crowd in the reception area of the terminal, and sure enough, making his way, hobbling a bit on shaky legs, there was Nurlan, waving and smiling.

  “It’s my brother!” Zhanar screamed as she pushed through the crowd and, as she had done so many times in the past, she threw her arms around him. “Oh my goodness! I didn’t know when I would ever see you again.” Tears started streaming down her face as he held her in a warm embrace. “How did you get here?”

  They moved together back to where Pete was standing. He grabbed Pete and grinned broadly. “I get back yesterday.”

  “We just heard that. But how? When we learned that the attack was stopped and the Navy had arrested everybody on board that ship, we were so worried,” Zhanar said.

  “Navy people say they have orders no hurt me. They take me away. Put in special room. I tell all I knew about attack, about president’s orders, about who in charge. Everything. Then they say they help me get back here so I finish college. They fly me back on special jet and say I now be like witness protection, but I not a witness any trial. I tell them you knew. They tell me you coming back too. Today. I see news stories and I figure out flights. So I tell S.A.I.N.T.S. Navy people say they not tell Kazaks about me. Say I no go back home. So they give me political asylum. I stay here. I like America.”

  “So you’re going to stay here for good?” Zhanar said.

  “Sure. Is good place. Lots freedom here. Best place in world. When I graduate, I get job. Maybe with government. Maybe with military. Not Army. Not with legs. But they say always need good computer guy like me. Is great, right?”

  “Not only great,” Pete said. “This is terrific.”

  “Then, maybe later, I work with Semipalatinsk people. Get help for them like you got help. Never get from Russians though. They never help. But maybe get help if we get new government in my country.”

  The S.A.I.N.T.S. were fanning out now, taking pictures and videos with their cell phones.

  “This’ll be all over YouTube in a few minutes,” one said.

  “You’re already on Facebook and Twitter,” another remarked.

  The group started to move toward the outside doors. “I have car here,” Nurlan said. “They also give me small car and extra money for school. They good to me.”

  “I had a similar experience. Well, sort of,” Pete said, tossing one canvas bag over his shoulder and carrying the rest.

  “What happen? How you get back?” Nurlan asked.

  “Well, this Angela person kept emailing me. She said that she was working with another White House woman, Samantha, who would be in contact with our embassy in Kazakhstan to get us some travel money, get us flights back to Los Angeles, and they said some other people were working to extend my scholarship funds. So here we are.”

  “See you back on campus,” one S.A.I.N.T.S. member shouted as the gang dispersed.

  “Great work!”

  “Bye for now.”

  “Later, dude.”

  Pete waved, and the trio walked toward the garage. When they retrieved Nurlan’s car, Pete stowed their luggage in the trunk, and they all climbed in, Nurlan drove out and headed toward UCLA.

  “I forget,” Nurlan said. “One more good thing.”

  “What’s that?” Pete asked. “We’re all back safely. The government types are helping us out. A member of Congress is actually flying out here to meet me, and you have a new car. What could be better?”

  “When word get out about you big hero, your swim coach announce that he names you captain of team.”

  CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

  THE WHITE HOUSE

  Sunlight poured through the windows behind the Resolute Desk in the Oval Office as the president rose to greet his staff. “What can I say except job well done!” he said coming around to shake hands with Samantha Reid and Ken Cosgrove. “I’m scheduling a news conference for two this afternoon, and I’d like you both to be there. Oh, and have Angela in the room as well.”

  “Of course, Mr. President,” Ken said. ‘It’s been a pretty rough couple of weeks but everyone worked together on this one.”

  The president sat down on a striped arm chair and motioned for Ken and Samantha to sit on one of the couches. “So much has happened in such a short period of time, I don’t know if I can recall a time in my presidency when there was such an immediate threat to the American people along with so many international complications. Sure, we’ve had a lot of threats before, and thank God, with great work by both the CIA and FBI, we’ve been able to stop most of them.

  “Now this one, this was something that you, Samantha, had warned us about. I mean, an attack of this kind. And I have to admit that we didn’t pay enough attention to your initial memos and requests for threat assessments. I think we all agree that you had a sixth sense about just such a possibility, and I for one am going to do all I can to see that we’re protected from any sort of EMP threat in the future.”

  Ken nodded and said, “She’s already got the agencies working on contingency plans, funding requests and all the rest.”

  “Good. Good,” the president said. He then handed them both a report. “Just got this. Came in moments ago. About events in Kazakhstan. When the details came out in Almaty, Astana and the other major cities about how President Surleimenov was responsible not only for that initial nuclear test that caused such panic over in Atyrau, but also had ordered the attack on San Francisco, he’s now been brought up for a war crimes trial. Looks like he’s out of the election race. Baltiev has been losing support, and now their vice president is a shoe-in. That guy is on our side when it comes to nuclear issues. In fact, he just issued a statement saying that if he wins the election, he intends to shut down the weapons program and concentrate their nuclear resources on providing just electricity for the country.”

  “That’s great news,” Ken said. “We had our people on the ground over there making sure that all of their news o
utlets got the word about the attacks. We kept it rather vague, though, about how Pete Kalani was able to tip us off. We never used Nurlan Remizov’s name. He’s here in the states now. We gave him political asylum. So he’ll probably be okay. I doubt if he should ever go back to Kazakhstan.”

  “Good thinking,” the president said. “By the way, about the press conference, I wanted to have Dr. Talbot and Hunt Daniels available to answer any questions that might come up about that new AESA system she deployed. Pretty amazing development, I’d say. But we can’t seem to get hold of them. The people at Bandaq Technologies say she took some vacation time. But do you know where Daniels is?”

  Ken and Samantha exchanged a knowing look. “Uh, Col. Daniels asked for a few days off, and I gave it to him. We’ve been working 24/7 on all of this, so I figured he was due.”

  “Yes, of course. That’s fine. Still, I wanted them here. Or at least I wanted to talk to them. Thank them. But it seems that for the first time in a long time, there are two people that our famous White House operators simply cannot find.”

  CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

  GEORGETOWN

  The mail is usually late on Saturdays, Samantha thought as she left her condo and strolled toward the elevator. She rode it down to the lobby level and went over to check her box. It was jammed with fliers from Shoppers’ World, Macy’s, Best Buy and Walgreens Drug Store. She grabbed the stack and saw a bill from AT&T, a statement from her bank and a rather dirty, ragged looking envelope. When she looked at the handwritten address, she almost screamed.

  She ran to the elevator, raced back to the condo, tossed the bills and fliers on the entry hall table and sat down in her living room. She stared at the letter and saw that the post mark had been made weeks ago. And it was from Kazakhstan. She tore it open.

  “HI PUMPKIN,

  I CAN’T TELL YOU WHAT A GREAT TIME WE’RE HAVING HERE IN THIS WONDERFUL COUNTRY. THE PEOPLE ARE FRIENDLY, THE FOOD IS PETTY GOOD. YOU’D LIKE THE SHISH KABOB. CAN’T ALWAYS FIND MY FAVORITE BEER AND SOME OF THE STUFF THEY DRINK IS LOUSY (THEY MAKE IT WITH HORSE MILK OR SOMETHING), BUT THIS TRIP HAS BEEN TERRIFIC.

  AS I’M SURE TRIPP TOLD YOU IN HIS EMAILS, THE CITY OF ALMATY IS MARVELOUS. THE BUILDINGS ARE PRETTY MODERN. GUESS IT’S ALL THAT OIL REVENUE THAT’S JACKED UP THIS ECONOMY.WE HAD BREAKFAST ONE MORNING IN A PLACE CALLED POSH BAR. KIND OF UNUSUAL TO HAVE A BAR OPEN AT NINE IN THE MORNING, BUT I GUESS THEY DO THAT TO TAKE CARE OF CUSTOMERS WITH HANGOVERS. AND EVEN THOUGH A LOT OF FOLKS HERE ARE MUSLIM, THERE’S NO SHORTAGE OF NIGHT CLUBS WITH TOPLESS DANCERS. (DON’T WORRY, WE DIDN’T GO TO ANY OF THOSE).

  THEN WHEN WE FLEW OUT HERE TOWARD THE CASPIAN SEA, MY REAL WORK BEGAN. I CAN’T TELL YOU HOW GREAT IT WAS WHEN ALL THE CREWS ON THE RIGS OUT HERE WELCOMED ME. THEY TREATED ME LIKE SOME BIG DEAL EXPERT. WELL, I DO THINK I’LL BE ABLE TO HELP WITH A FEW IDEAS. IT’S LIKE THE OLD DAYS FOR ME, BEING OUT WITH THE WILD-CATTERS.

  BUT NOW THE MOST IMPORTANT THING ABOUT THIS WHOLE ADVENTURE IS HOW I’VE GOTTEN TO KNOW THIS GUY OF YOURS. TRIPP ADAMS IS INDEED A FINE YOUNG MAN. I WATCHED HIM IN NEGOTIATIONS WITH THE GOVERNMENT TYPES. HE WAS VERY PROFESSIONAL AND PUT TOGETHER AN EXCELLENT DEAL. AND WHEN WE WERE TRAVELING AROUND, I HEARD ALL ABOUT HOW HIS PARENTS GAVE HIM THE NAME HAMILTON BAINBRIDGE ADAMS, III. NO WONDER HE ONLY WANTS TO GO BY THE NAME TRIPP. HE TOLD ME ALL ABOUT HIS DAYS AT PRINCETON WHEN HE FIRST SPOTTED YOU, MY DEAR. HE SAID THAT AT THE TIME, HE DIDN’T HAVE SENSE ENOUGH TO FOLLOW UP, BUT WAS SO GRATEFUL THAT YOUR PATHS HAD CROSSED AGAIN IN WASHINGTON. I’M GLAD TOO.

  HE ALSO TOLD ME ABOUT HIS DAYS IN THE NAVY AND THEN THE WORK HE DID AS AN INDEPENDENT CONTRACTOR AND HOW THAT LED TO HIS POSITION AS VICE PRESIDENT OF GEOGLOBAL OIL & GAS. PRETTY FAST RISE, I’D SAY. AND HE’S IN A GREAT POSITION TO TAKE CARE OF MY LITTLE GIRL. THAT’S WHAT HE WANTS TO DO, YOU KNOW. I DON’T THINK I’M SPILLING THE BEANS WHEN I SAY THAT HE REALLY CARES ABOUT YOU AND WANTS TO MAKE IT PERMANENT. WELL, YOU TWO HAVE MY BLESSING, THAT’S FOR SURE.

  GOTTA GO NOW. I’VE KEPT YOU READING TOO LONG. JUST WANT TO ADD THAT I KNOW YOU DIDN’T WANT ME TO TAKE THIS ON. BUT WHEN I HEARD ABOUT IT, I WAS THE ONE WHO INSISTED THAT TRIPP TAKE ME ALONG. AT FIRST HE ARGUED AGAINST IT, SAYING IT WAS A LONG WAY OVER HERE AND ALL. BUT IT WAS MY CHOICE, AND HE FINALLY AGREED. ANYWAY, I’M HAVING THE TIME OF MY LIFE. CAN’T WAIT TO GET BACK AND TELL YOU ALL ABOUT IT. MUCH LOVE TO YOU…. DAD

  Samantha read the letter again. And then one more time as tears trickled down her cheeks. She tried to wipe them away with the back of her hand. It was no use. She got up, went into the bathroom and grabbed a tissue. She stared in the mirror and saw red eyes and a runny nose staring back. She splashed cold water on her face, dried it and went back to the living room. She picked up the letter again and thought about her dad. That wonderful man with the energy, the ideas, the drive to get things done. It was just like him to insist on flying halfway around the world to help out on a project. She had spent so much time grieving about her loss, she suddenly realized that she hadn’t spent enough time celebrating his life. It was a good life. One where he had taught her and her little brother all sorts of neat things, from riding that first bike of hers to teaching her about geology, from encouraging her studies to bucking her up when the boy of her dreams asked someone else to the Junior Prom. He had taught her the value of hard work and individual responsibility, the meaning of love and forgiveness. She remembered that he had said that the three things you need in life are something to do, someone to love, and something to look forward to. She certainly had a lot to do now. But she had lost the two men she had loved. And now she had no clue what she had to look forward to.

  As she pondered the advice, she glanced back down at the letter in her hands, and suddenly she knew what she had to do.

  Samantha took a shower, washed her hair, took care with her makeup and poured through her closet for something casual but chic. She settled on a pair of black slacks and a jade green silk blouse. She liked that one since it matched the color of her eyes. She took one last look in the mirror, glad that the redness had disappeared. She checked her pantry, reached for a bottle of Pinot Noir, took her shoulder bag off the bed, shoved her dad’s letter inside and headed out the door.

  She drove across Key Bridge, went through two stoplights and turned right on North Nash Street. She pulled up to the building and gave her car to the valet. She walked through the two-story lobby, past the concierge, and up to the desk attendant. She flashed her White House ID and said she was a personal friend who wanted to surprise someone. She held up the bottle of Pinot Noir and smiled at the guard. He said he knew he’d seen her before. He nodded and pointed to the elevators.

  She rode up to the 18th floor and tried to gather her thoughts. What exactly was she going to say? How could she put it? Would he even be home on a Saturday evening? And would he be alone? She was nervous. She remembered a girl she had seen yesterday walking on 17th Street across from the White House. She had been wearing a funny T-shirt that said, I USED TO HAVE A HANDLE ON LIFE, BUT IT BROKE. Samantha thought about that and about her own life and wondered, can I repair it?

  He heard the bell and looked quizzically toward the door. The desk hadn’t called. Could it be a neighbor? He glanced around his apartment and saw that various sections of The Wall Street Journal and The Washington Post were still strewn around, and a couple of plates and coffee cups from breakfast and lunch were still perched on his dining room table. He had been working at his computer much of the day, dressed only in an old pair of khakis and a polo shirt that probably should have been laundered last week. What the hell. Probably just a delivery or something. He walked over to the door and opened it.

  “Hi Tripp,” she said tentatively. “May I come in?”

  He was astounded. There she stood. The woman he had fallen for so long ago. The woman who had dumped him, saying she could never trust him again. The woman who blamed him for killing her father. He stared at her and suddenly realized she was patiently waiting for a response. “Samantha! Uh, sure. C’mon in. Place
is a bit of a …”

  “I didn’t come to see the place. I came to see you,” she said. She thrust the wine bottle into his hands. “If you’re not busy, I mean if you’re alone. I mean …”

  “You brought wine?” He glanced at the label. “This is your favorite.”

  “Peace offering?” she asked.

  “Peace offering?” he echoed. “Uh, yes, I’m alone. Just working here. The usual. Um, c’mon in and sit down.” He led the way into the spacious living room and gestured toward the black leather couch facing a wall of windows looking out over a view of Key Bridge, the lights of Georgetown and parts of downtown Washington. He lifted the bottle, “Shall I open this?”

  “Sure. I think I could use a drink right about now,” she replied, her voice unsteady.

  He walked over to an open bar area on the side of the room, pulled out the cork, poured two glasses and handed her one. He sat down next to her and said, “Cheers? Or should I say something else? I have to admit I was pretty surprised to see you standing in the doorway. I thought …”

  “I know. I thought so too,” she said and then took a sip of the wine. She paused as if trying to decide what to say. He waited, wondering, hoping. Finally, she reached into her shoulder bag and pulled out a battered looking letter. She turned to face him directly. “I just got this today.”

  “What is it? Who’s it from?” He couldn’t see the post mark.

  “It’s from my dad.”

  “Your dad?” he exclaimed. “But when? You just got it today? When did he write it? What did he say?”

  She carefully unfolded the letter and began to read. She read the first part describing the places they’d been. She skipped the paragraph where he said that Tripp wanted to make their relationship permanent. But then she fought back tears as she got to the last paragraph. “And here he says that he was the one who talked you into taking him to Kazakhstan. He says that at first you were against the idea, but he says it was his choice. And see here at the end he said he was having the time of his life.”