by Brian Cain
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Wolfs attendance at the IMF meeting was not without careful planning, military links within the organisation had now been illuminated for a reason. Sent to take control of the monetary system some within the military influential cooperative had preconceived ideas on if the attempt at gaining control of the floundering money system would work. Military heads now boasting more power than politicians and working autonomously were meeting at the same time, far away aboard a US aircraft carrier in the Persian Gulf. The remaining remnants of military cooperation sat in conference. Russia, China, France and the UK were absent, the delegated representatives could not be contacted and had been missing for some time, and attempts to foster replacements had been met with silence.
Quinn Packard was an x American President, he was to speak at the meeting on request of the military joint chiefs of staff. Packard had been president during the turn on the second Millennium, he went on to head the Space Alliance of United Nations, suddenly disbanded in 2003. Packard was the only insider left from the now defunct SAUN and had lived as a recluse since then. The US secretary of defence attended the meeting, both he and Packard had been kidnapped and brought to the meeting against their will, although Packard agreed to speak at the meeting it was also against his will.
The US Navy, Army and Air Force chiefs of staff made up what was left of the joint chiefs, Ward Pugsley a comparatively young five star General and recent army chief of staff chaired the meeting. Grant Shipley, an x airman controlled the US air force, he sat to the right of Pugsley, and Admiral Wayne Truman to the left of Pugsley headed up the US navy. In the confines of an air craft carrier briefing room the atmosphere was tense, attendees were huddled together, shoulders touching, some had been at loggerheads for years and the uniforms bristled with colour and egotistical enlightenment. Pugsley played with a pen, his cropped grey hair was just receding of his worried brow, and he opened the dialogue. "Gentlemen, this meeting has been called for several reasons, there are no briefing notes as intentions and outcomes must remain secretive. It is obvious some we would prefer to have attended are not present but we must progress, discuss, exchange information, find a way to make some kind of sense to what is going on." He stood up looking solemn and serious, a aroma of clashing cultures hung in the air, he looked around the table, forced a smile and continued. "I must inform you, or as I would imagine you would already know, we have lost control of our nuclear arsenal, and so has the rest of the planet."
The German representative rose to his feet, dressed in civilian clothing he interrupted, leaning on the table with his hands lurching forward with a look of fear, his English was good but his accent was obvious. "You are suggesting a rogue element has taken control of the world's nuclear arsenal."
Pugsley looked down then back up with resolve. "I'm not suggesting any such thing, I'm informing you and confirming."
The German sat down with a bump. "Mine god."
Pugsley sat down. "The entire arsenal has been disabled, no one can launch any of the weapons," the room became a buzz as people conferred. "Please gentleman," quiet again filled the air. "I heard how the hell, and indeed how the hell. We have someone here whom can spread some light on a theory we have put together. Who the hell are we dealing with and why? I would like to introduce for those whom don't know, x president of the United States and x head of the defunct Space Alliance of United Nations, Quinn Packard." Packard stood, he was seated at the other end of the long, grey, steel table. "Quinn was president during the millennium war games," Pugsley stood and walked toward Packard with his hands behind his back, along the back of the chairs on the right hand side of the conference room, about fifteen metres long just to the rear of the ships bridge. "Or were they games, the media, political power, had us fooled, did they not Quinn." He sat down nodding. "Would I be correct in saying an MI6 operative, a man named John Stanton got to something we were in fact after before we did."
Quinn raised his voice so he could be heard. "Yes, from what you have told me, makes sense."
"A weapon named ADAM, Australian Defence Armament Manufacturers. Could you brief the meeting on the biggest military blunder in history, the cancelation of the star wars programme?"
Quinn, a big man, full head of grey hair, well into his senior years, dressed in casual clothes, shorts and a short sleeved shirt again stood and spoke. "Very well, I have nothing to lose. A man called Harry Briggs, scientist, was schooled in New York, then studied nuclear science at Washington University, graduated with honours in the seventies. He worked as a graduate at Cape Kennedy space installation, then on the star wars project. A change of government saw massive cut backs and he was without a job. A friend of his was working at Island Lagoon near Woomera in South Australia; it’s an American monitoring installation. He got a job there moved to Australia. He took all his work and information with him. He found a group of Australians with the same goals as he, they set up a company to develop ideas.
Together with his friend a Matt Sharp, they formed the Australian Defence Arms Manufacturers, ADAM for short, they were fifty percent partners. In negotiations with the Australian government they leased a development site at the Woomera rocket range and employed people who had great input. That was in eighties. They had some big breakthroughs, selling some of the technology as they progressed to fund operations. They launched six of the most sophisticated communication satellites orbiting earth in nineteen, they are like nothing ever produced before. The Chinese launched the first three; the last three were launched at Woomera with help from the Japanese. Those satellites control the most deadly defence system ever devised; it makes all conventional warfare obsolete. They were very careful to call it a defence system, they didn’t want to draw any attention to its devastating capabilities; we weren’t ready. I now know this entire operation was infiltrated by MI6 elite and funded by John Stanton.
The computer that controlled this thing is two thousand metres below the earth surface, on the outskirts of the Woomera rocket range. The excavation was disguised as a mining venture; there is an important reason it has to be so deep, to protect it from itself. You may be aware of sightings of UFOs from time to time, especially in some areas of the Northern Territory, around Wycliff Well and the Devil’s Marbles in Australia. People who make the sightings say they disappear at lightning speed into the desert; they also say these things drain all electrical power from their vehicles when they approach. This is all true, do you want me to go on?" Pugsley just nodded. "They are what was called ADAM A10 defence pods. They are about the size of a semi-trailer prime mover and are spheres. They basically are two spheres, one spinning within the other at close proximity, only a few centimetres apart. They have a stationary central axis, this contains its computer and weapons system. Using mass electro magnetic energy produced by the sphere’s rotation, to give you some idea, one sphere produces ten times the power of the latest base load power station every second. A gyro compass inside controls the flight path of the sphere, the energy it produces magnifies the earth’s magnetic field around it; by moving the magnetic field, it can control its flight in any direction. It can travel at the speed of light and now probably beyond, but steering problems cut that to around one hundred thousand miles an hour,. The computer could think no faster than that, they are autonomous; they have no pilot, who knows what it's capable of now."
Pugsley interrupted. "Where did this technology originate?"
"How on earth did they discover all this? Had the star wars programme not been disbanded it may never have happened, Briggs went to Australia with vital technology. An engineer in Perth, Western Australia developed the computer that was used; it’s very different, neuron technology, able to think for itself. Not in as much as it can make decisions on its own use, but in as much as it deciphers what information is of use to it from its satellites. It then uses that information to depict global war and defend, its use is purely military."
Pugsley again interrupted. "The media even convinced us the second millennium w
ar was just games to test global response to an apocalypse, Stanton's access to global media was another weapon of the time. His wife, daughter of media magnet William Bradley Simpson, she was in control of the empire at the time. Another investigation dropped due to lack of funds as far as I can remember."
Quinn nodded. "You are well informed."
Pugsley tested his theory, "It's an assumption."
Quinn looked around the table. "Anyone doubt that assumption." There was silence. "Shall I go on?"
"Absolutely, we need find something, the smallest snippet of information can be invaluable."
Quinn continued. "The computer contains information on all major powers military codes and radio frequencies; it monitors them all by itself. The satellites are part of the main computer; they also have what we call neurone technology, based on the working of the human brain. The spheres were discovered by accident, Briggs had long been working on an electro magnetic bearing. This is where magnetic force is used to repel bearing surfaces, leaving a thin layer of air between them, thus no friction and no lubrication. By changing the atoms within the molecules around the bearing areas made of titanium and ceramics, with high-powered lasers, they made the breakthrough. they first tested these bearings in the lab in a small sphere about the size of a soccer ball. As soon as we spun it with electrical impulse, it flew through the wall, they never saw it again. That came to be known as ADAM A1, at the turn of the millennium they had ADAM A10, nine generations on. An A10 pod will drain any electrical power no matter how strong if the pod gets within fifteen hundred metres, at two thousand metres it has little effect, that’s why its base stations so far underground. Their radio frequencies are unique to the system and remain unaffected by its own presence. That way it can operate directly over the top of itself. The pods when not in flight sit in bunkers not far from the base station, they never stop rotating, and supply power to the complex through a plugging system on their base. The pods use powerful lasers to direct enormous bolts of electro magnetic energy, they raise or lower the strike force through their own discriminating system, a battle ship receiving a far larger blow than a tank. It’s simply earthing its enormous power, the results are devastating, far worse than we ever imagined. It’s amazing you know that the guidance systems and weapon systems operate on simple GPS from the satellites, rather like a surveyor’s electronic distance measuring equipment. One A10 can strike two hundred targets per second with a range of three thousand metres. If you ever get to see you will be dumbfounded. Do you think I’m nuts.”
Pugsley was unflinching. “Go on.”
"The system began to run smoothly in eighty-nine, it can be controlled by one person at the keyboard in the base station. Now comes the bad bit, we were contacted by Briggs and really interested in looking at it, we were sitting on billions of dollars, we even had a spy within the network. For some reason he was withdrawn in eighty-eight. I noticed that whenever the main players work was over, they began to disappear; now I know they were disposed of. Just prior to us actually seeing Briggs as potential buyers in late eighty-nine, he was framed for the murder of a colleague, and sentenced to life in prison."
"Stanton."
"No, Briggs still owned half of ADAM , his partner Matt Sharp gained control of the company in the courts not long after my imprisonment in nineteen-ninety. He then discovered a big problem. He was suspicious on why and who had been causing the disappearance of the crew. This is where Stanton is suspected of taking control; it must have a certain code entered every twenty-four hours or it will deny all access to the bunker. As people leave, it won’t let them back in again. ADAM protected itself and Boffins within Stanton's Elite began working on the system; Briggs was led to believe he was the only one that knew the code. Sharp his colleague thought he could beat it out of Briggs. When he realised Briggs was the only one who could help him, the tables turned and he was protected. Stanton must have allowed this to be able to gather information, no one can get in the bunker without the code, or an A10 will take them out. Then along came Jason Brinkly, indirectly feed information through Stanton's network he was directed to Briggs in an Australian prison, with information no one else had and money coming out of his ears courtesy of his fathers international commercial enterprises, Brinkly, a guitar player was a perfect cover for Stanton's network. Stanton even convinced Brinkly someone was looking over his shoulder, as if he was protected and untouchable. I knew this man, he often said he felt a hand on his shoulder and he was sent people to assist him. He gained control of ADAM and it was tested in the millennium war games."
Pugsley nodded. "Mmm, all makes sense gentleman. What happened to Brinkly, if we can find him he may be of assistance?"
"I imagine Stanton has leaked information that backs up my statement for a reason, a bit you wouldn't know is that during the Space Alliance of United Nations, an A10 sphere was mounted in a space shuttle to power the unit via a system I know nothing about. It was totally controlled by Brinkley's organisation."
"And if it was controlled by Brinkly it was directed by Stanton."
"Yes, and that's what happened to Brinkly, he wanted to ride the shuttle during the test. It took of under its own power, a modified air frame no one had seen. During the test it was to accelerate to close to the speed of light, something went wrong. It reached the speed of light and vanished, data returned for a few seconds as it hurtled out into space indicated it had passed through planets and asteroids without suffering damage. For all we know it could still be out there."
"So if we can't find Brinkly, who do we look for?"
"Stanton would know I'm here."
Pugsley chuckled under his breath. "Stanton, you're slightly misinformed. He's retired, we have reason to believe his son has taken the reigns, anyone whom has dealt with him is terrified."
"His sons are lawyers."
"Not this one, does Bella Elizabeth Fonteyn ring bells for anyone, her son to Stanton."
"I was infatuated by that woman, is she still around."
"Have you heard of Roselyn Victoria Fleming or Louise Legrande?"
"Yes," Quinn looked down, "and I would probably do it again."
"We've been trying to get into the bunker at Woomera you spoke of for years, last week we succeeded, the place has been empty for a long time, cobwebs and caverns, nothing of this weapon you speak of. Moved, modified, this thing has been around and we've been had. The information Stanton threatened the powers with was indeed real, we tried to take him out many times, it wasn't the throng of agents covering his arse that protected him, it was just a cover, but something far more powerful. There is absolutely no trace of anyone that was sent to sanction him, the odd set up accident for reasons of deflective concentration. While we were sure he was human we kept trying, exactly what he wanted us to do. We are sure this thing operates from several locations but have no idea where, nuclear arsenals were decommissioned for nothing more than public safety."
"What makes you sure," asked Quinn.
"Because we can find no evidence at all that he did anything other than defend public safety."
Buck West A negro US navy admiral entered the room a approached Pugsley handing him a memo. "Sir I think you ought read this."
Pugsley read it then read aloud. "Today at an IMF meeting in London, three members of the organisation was shot dead. The reaming members of the IMF including CEO Graham Thimbleberry, have been released on bail pending further investigations into the deaths. Thimbleberry and the rest of the committee claim a man called Greywolf infiltrated the meeting killing three members of the committee, then vanished without trace. The three deceased have been linked to an assassination attempt on the rest of the contingent, entering the meeting with undetected firearms. Thimbleberry further claims demands were made by the man referred to as Greywolf to stop hoarding by of money across the board. Thimbleberry and the IMF committee are drawing up plans with limited time frames in which the public and corporations can hoard funds before having to spend within commun
ities. The press are backing these suggestions." Pugsley looked up shaking his head with a grin. "Greywolf, we've been looking for that guy for years, seems he found us." He handed the memo back to Buck West. "Thank you."
Packard looked sideways and lifted his head. "Greywolf, a myth."
Pugsley raised his eyebrows. "The agent Greywolf has been mentioned in communication traffic from MI6 over three hundred times in the last ten years, which we know of." He shook his head and lent back in his chair. "It would appear this Greywolf is the law, I feel we will soon long for the return of John Stanton."
Buck West again spoke. "Sir we cannot trace any of the elites communication traffic, its disappeared. We have detected a new satellite system orbiting higher than the host satellites, appears to be some kind of new system we are not familiar with. We now have no idea what the elite are doing. Also sir, messages just in from fronts in Iraq and Syria, all targets have vanished, they cease to exist. I strongly suggest all three of you attend the bridge."
Pugsley threw up his hands and shook his head. "Get hold of Atlantic command, tell them we want the current status of all forces engaged in the area, get me the pentagon on the scrambler. Have choppers transfer all attendees to transport. As soon as we are done here in a few minutes we'll be on the bridge, I want a report soon as I get there."
"Yes sir." Buck West left in haste.
"Pugsley, Shipley and Truman attended the bridge, the aircraft carrier was flag ship within the group and the atmosphere was abuzz with busy people. Buck West stood over a table in the middle of the bridge, a square box rising from the floor made of steel the screen table top displayed the carriers groups location and surrounding land masses involved in the groups mission. The trio joined West and studied the screen. West handed Pugsley a paper update, he read it and frowned. "Nothing from Atlantic Command."
West replied. "No sir."
"Dam it we need authorisation."
West pointed to the land mass of Iraq on the horizontal screen, he was clear to follow his explanation with his fingers standing on the opposite side to Pugsley. "We have clear communication with all front line operations, here, here and here. Further reports match others we have had over time, no sign of any enemy."
"Have you sent that to command and the pentagon?"
"Yes sir, no response. Carbon ash and crystals, that's all that is left of the enemy."
"No instructions, no acknowledgement."
"Nothing sir, our forces can move around with not so much as small arms fire."
Pugsley folded his arms. "Then who the hell is running the show. Radar report?"
"We have suffered some interference, scratchy high magnetic energy, possibly solar flare activity. Other than that the entire area's skies are clear."
"The Karl Vincent?"
"Heading back to the US sir, an hour ago."
Pugsley looked horrified. "What! Why wasn't I told, who gave the order, the Vincent receiving instructions and we're not."
"The group commander has taken control far as we can make out sir, the Russians, Chinese, French, British all withdrawing to home waters."
Pugsley walked to the window overlooking the flight deck, an F35 strike fighter took to the air. He stood with one hand holding his wrist behind his back, there was silence for a few seconds as Pugsley gathered his thoughts. He turned and looked at his counterparts. "Packard spoke of this ADAM weapon, back at the turn of the millennium, we recently got inside the place it was supposed to be in South Australia, was empty, stripped of whatever was there years ago. Why can we suddenly after so long walk into the place and gather intelligence?" He walked back to the table and folded his arms, he wore a frown of resolve. "Packard spoke of A10 pods, I remember reading the intelligence report on the so called millennium war games, you couldn't miss these things, the glowed blue and drained power when within a couple of miles of anything. What if Stanton got hold of all this and now has an advanced model, an A30, 40, who knows, his so called boffins could make god knows what. Packard also talked about the space shuttle, powered by one of these spheres, achieved the speed of light and never seen again. If the elite were involved in the experiment could be the reason we have magnetic interference and can see nothing, there's something up there, a weapon beyond our wildest dreams. What were the weather conditions here over the last forty eight hours?"
Buck West lent on the screen with his finger tips, his face spelt avid concentration. "Electric storms sir, haven't been able to operate in certain areas, cleared only an hour ago, ground forces were hold up as well sir."
"Two months ago in Libya, an electric storm, dust, rain, hurricane winds, the same weather."
"Yes sir, we had reports of the same carbon crystal remains, put down to powerful lighting strikes."
"Lighting strikes my arse, get all the information you can on every event similar to what we are currently experiencing." West barked requests to ratings around him and they raced off in haste. "What's the latest intelligence on allied and adversary withdrawals?"
"We believe their conduct reflects formation to counter a nuclear attack on their own countries."
"Nuclear arsenals were disabled, do we have control again."
"No sir, the planets nuclear arsenals are still under control of what we believe to be the elite."
"And we've lost our tracking ability, we have no idea what their up to."
"No sir."
Pugsley again walked to the window over looking the flight deck, he drew a big breath, turned and asked a question. "Wayne this is your carrier group, what would you do considering all we know?"
Wayne Truman looked at Grant Shipley briefly then back to Pugsley, he took of his glasses and began to clean them. "I'd assume we may suffer a nuclear strike from our own arsenal or others, Id withdraw to the coast of Washington."
Pugsley nodded. "Mmm, perfectly good assumption, our purpose is to protect the US from adversaries, military or otherwise. Sound proof friend and foe are in the process of doing just that, what if it's a diversion from the truth."
A rating handed Buck West a message, he read it as the others waited in earnest. West looked up wide eyed. "Every military situation where carbon crystals were found was accompanied by fierce storms, data from the last eight years."
"And we assume we won these encounters."
"All were successful sir, be they ours or allied sir. We cannot confirm encounters at sea are of the same circumstances being unable to retrieve evidence."
"Polaris, weapons thefts, sanctions, political puppets, insanely beautiful women, all a diversion. We've been had, this is bullshit."
Grant Shipley air chief finally decided to speak. "I would have to agree it's possible, I remember reading of carbon deposits being the only thing left after an attack during the millennium wars by this ADAM weapon. There was an operation in South America far more recently, deployed from the Falkland Islands, I read a report, a drug cartel ring was annihilated. The elite sent Stanton in with a strike force of a few operatives, along with dead bodies there were reports of a lot of carbon crystal deposits. The operation was suicide but not one of the elite was harmed."
Pugsley agreed. "You have a good memory; I recall the same reports, it's what stirred my suspicions."
Truman put his glasses back on squinting and adjusting the frame. "Why go to so much trouble to cover something that would give you ultimate power?"
Pugsley replied. "Stanton is a different person by far to this Greywolf, his son from all reports. Stanton is a military man, one of great substance and character. Stanton would only be interested in supporting the status quo within his own realm. His son it would appear is a far different person, he has no line, chances are he's the law. We're not used to being told what to do or when to do it."
Buck West interrupted. "Should we try the white house sir?"
Pugsley half smiled. "Politicians are finished, not that they had any credibility with me anyway. We need to take control, figure out what, when, where, why and who. I sug
gest we do what's expected as not to attract attention, pull everything in and head for Washington."
His three accomplices nodded, it was Truman that replied. "I can get on to my brother Dirk, he runs part of the CIA, he knows Stanton, may get a lead."
Pugsley showed interest. "He and Conrad Wayne."
"Yes, you know Wayne."
"Yes I do, many years back we were in the same unit."
Buck West interrupted. "Sir, we are fairly sure Dirk and Conrad along with FBI head Bret McCrea are part of the elite's network."
Pugsley looked out the window, he raised his voice and it bounced off the glass to his friends behind him. "Not such a bad thing, we need find out all we can about this Greywolf." He turned back toward his friends, leaning casually on the bridge window ledge. "Just what has the white house done about this incursion on our military dominance, we need to find out what if this ADAM weapon is real, how it works and more importantly how to gain control when we find it. We have no orders, direction or contact with our intelligence networks, we are dead in the water you might say. We return the fleet home, West, study cutting power to public and industry. If we can get commercial entities with that much influence behind us we can start to move."
Shipley interrupted. "We tried that some time ago, our biggest power provider under direction of the pentagon shut down power in fifteen states, plus areas of Europe. Power continued to flow, it was suggested these spheres similar to this ADAM weapons power supply are filling the gaps in subterranean environments all over the planet."
Pugsley shook his head. "How much more don't we know Grant, everyone back down to the conference room, get Packard to join us."
West interrupted. "Quinn Packard is unwilling to cooperate sir, he insists he leave as scheduled in fifteen minutes."
"Arrest him and bring him along."
"Packard insists that should he not leave on time, this carrier group will cease to exist and so will he sir."
Pugsley turned and looked out the window, there was silence for some seconds, he turned back and faced them. "How long before we have all our aircraft on deck."
"Another hour sir, we are experiencing a lot of magnetic interference to the point its hindering communication. The weather is turning as well sir, wild seas and heavy rain heading our way."
"I want you to target a squadron of our own aircraft, lock on and fire missiles."
West stooped forward with a look of distain. "I beg your pardon sir."
"If this weapon exists as I firmly believe it does, our missiles will be terminated."
"You're willing to gamble an entire squadron on a hunch sir."
"I've heard this before, there is a lot of difference between a gamble and a calculated risk, John Stanton's own words. In just about every publication I read by the man. When in Rome, do as the Romans."
West barked orders to staff on the bridge, Pugsley turned and studied the activity on the deck for near a minute. "The Winston S Churchill has locked on sir."
Without turning round Pugsley replied with a raised voice. "Deploy."
There was a flash on the horizon as the destroyer launched its missiles, there was a second flash within a second. West looked toward Pugsley with a frown. "All missiles blew up sir, they never made a thousand feet."
"I have eyes Buck. Have all vessels fire one missile directly vertical, no target."
West shrugged his shoulders. "Sir."
"I want confirmation without any doubt."
"Yes sir." West again barked commands to the ratings, then addressed Pugsley. "All attack vessels ready sir."
"Deploy."
There was a series of flashes followed by thunderous explosions. West again looked at Pugsley, he turned from the window toward West. "Sir, all missiles failed, they all blew up sir, some only yards above the launch points."
Pugsley looked down, he drew a big breath before looking back up. "Well, how much confirmation do we need, there's something out there we don't understand. An entire carrier group rendered useless, whoever operates that weapon is the law. I believe this weapon was fostered by John Stanton, a man I once thought was mad." He turned back to the window and looked at a chopper preparing to take off, Quinn Packard looked up toward the bridge, he looked at Pugsley with anger as he climbed aboard. "We are relegated to doing their bidding, and some of them are among us. Up anchor and head for home, I want every scrap of information we can find on these people, especially this Greywolf."
West interrupted. "Sir these people are allies, they just prevented us from attacking our own."
"With the surveillance and power they have could be suicide," stated Truman.
Pugsley turned toward Truman as the chopper lifted from the deck, Packard gazed out the window toward the bridge with a determined squint as he passed. "I want to talk to this man, Greywolf, he's in charge, I just want some orders that make sense."
"We can only take orders from the white house sir."
"You have any orders from the white house Buck."
"No sir."
Pugsley looked at Truman and Shipley, he raised his eyebrows. "You?" They shook their heads. "When we get home I'll ask the president exactly why that is, a little suspicious the president should choose to remain silent at such a crucial time in history. This Greywolf may not be as mad as anticipated, the more you think outside the circle, the more possibilities." Pugsley looked at West with a wide smile. "Throw everything at tracking this Greywolf, futile I agree but I hope it works, put my name on everything, I want to talk to him."
"Our submarines are asking for directive sir."
Pugsley walked the table and studied the screen. "What have the enemy done with their subs since loosing control of the nuclear missiles?"
"China, Russian, France, UK all sent their subs out of range all over the place, concerned someone may turn their own weapons on them. The Vincent has done the same sir, instructed her subs to stay in this area clear of our coast. Shall we instruct our subs to stay clear of home sir?"
Pugsley was in deep thought, he lent on the screen with his elbows studying the map readout. "Are we sure the elite took control of the nuclear arsenals?"
"We are surer of that than of this ADAM weapon."
Pugsley paced up and down beside the screen gesturing with his hands as he talked. "Why would a man with a weapon like ADAM, take control of an outdated inferior weapon system."
West shrugged his shoulders, shook his head and pouted. "I've asked myself the same question sir, makes no sense."
There was silence for a few seconds, Pugsley squinted in deep thought and concentration. "Physics, think physics, its not possible for electro magnetic energy to travel in water, would just dissipate and go to earth, no matter how powerful the just like lighting." He crossed his arms with one hand on his chin. "Nuclear torpedoes, this ADAM weapon couldn't reach one beneath the water. Nuclear missiles would be taken out just like the surface to air but nuclear torpedoes strike from beneath the water, without control of the nuclear arsenal a nuclear torpedo couldn't be stopped, what do you think Buck."
"We are dealing with military minds, a water bound nuclear strike on the coast of a land mass would be catastrophic."
"The weapon is untried but we have some, we know the Russians have them."
"Our subs have them, so do the Vincent's, but we have no control over them."
"I wonder if the elites system can decipher a nuclear torpedo from a conventional weapon?"
"What are you getting at sir?"
"Instruct the San Juan to launch an unarmed dud torpedo at the Winston S Churchill, wont even scratch the paint but we may just find out if our theory is right."
West blinked profusely. "There's a lot of confused people out there sir."
"Yeah, I'm one of em but becoming less confused by the minute."
"We will have to answer to this when we get home sir."
"I have some questions too Buck, currently getting plenty of answers, have the San Juan engage the Winston S."
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"The elite will know of our instructions."
"Doesn't matter, it's a message not an attack, see what kind of reply we get."
The communications officer aboard the San Juan turned to his captain. "Sir you're not going to believe this, we have been ordered to engage the Winston S Churchill with an unarmed torpedo."
The captain lent against the lowered periscope. "Mmm, attempts to attack our own aircraft, the entire fleet launching missiles, there's somethin out there and we're looking for it. Trying to draw something out of the trenches, load tube one with a dud, starboard twenty periscope depth, target Winston S Churchill and flood tube one, prepare to launch torpedo."
The San Juan weapons lieutenant called from his post. "Target locked on."
Buck West called to Pugsley. "Locked on sir."
Pugsley gazed out the window toward the Winston S Churchill. "Hold for a minute."
The carrier's radar officer shouted across the bridge. "Holy shit! Four unidentified submersibles approching the group, port, starboard, fore, aft sir, range three thousand yards, speed over one hundred miles an hour."
Shipley shouted from pure experience. "Status?"
"They have lock on the San Juan sir."
Pugsley shouted at Buck West. "Stand the San Juan down." The San Juan disengaged and Pugsley shouted at the radar officer. "Where the hell are they?"
The radar officer threw his hands in the air and shook his head. "Gone sir, quick as they came."
Pugsley joined the radar officer and studied his screen. "How big were they, can we recognise them?"
"I'll run the stats through the computer sir, I got a three d, they passed right under us."
"How deep were they?"
"I got two thousand feet sir, near the bottom."
"That's impossible."
"No sir, that's how deep they were sir. I got a match from the computer sir, archive, Seadragon, automated submersible nuclear strike vessel, what the hell."
"Let me read that." Pugsley bent toward the screen and squinted as he read the lines. "Top secret CIA archive, Seadragon, American autonomous nuclear powered submarines, operational in millennium war games, disbanded after the games, infiltrated by enemy virus network. Designed and instigated by Ridge Mortimer, Senator George Mortimer's son in the late nineties. Ridge Mortimer died of a heart attack when he met Jason Brinkly of Brinkly international, guardian of the Australian defence weapon ADAM. On the death of Ridge Mortimer the entire project was cancelled, no trace of Seadragon was ever found. The Seadragon system had a cloaking device and could remain stealth at all depths, it could only be detected should it open its combat systems for engagement. No trace of the system or its hardware has ever been found to date." Pugsley looked up briefly at his counterparts. "Sound familiar." He looked back at the screen. "Hang on, associated document, FBI. Top Secret Code Red. Lance Miller and Zup, real name of secondary not known. Quinn Packard's body guards, now known to be members of the British MI6 organisation called the elite. Were also Quinn Packard's body guards post presidency. For over fourteen years agents have been sent to find Seadragon, they were hindered and confused by the Polaris investigations conducted by MI6 elite John Stanton. No agents have ever returned from intelligence gathering, investigations suspended. CIA agent John Lee was assigned to ADAM operations while Seadragon was under construction before the millennium war games. It is suspected Packard ordered John Lee to be sanctioned but he was delivered to John Stanton by elite operative Zup, an American biker. Zup, Lance Miller who has a twin brother and John Lee are suspected to be still alive and around the same age as John Stanton. These people are as dangerous as John Stanton and should not under any circumstances be approached." Pugsley stood up. "There's more here but I've heard enough, have the entire fleet under way in half an hour destination Main. When I get there all three of us will see the president, Dirk Truman and Conrad Wayne of the CIA and Bret McCrea of the FBI in that order."
"Why hasn't someone acted on this before sir," enquired West.
"Looks like people who did aren't around any more, or are they."
"Not quite sure what you mean sir."
"Neither do I, I want to meet this Greywolf." He turned to Truman head of naval operations. "I remember a Max Sivert, the captain who helped Stanton lift a terrorist out of the Middle East when he was in charge of Diego Garcia, is he still around?"
"You're memory serves you well, yes, he was promoted to naval intelligence, he works with Dirk Truman and Conrad Wayne, Bret McCrae is one of his best friends."
"Jesus Christ, well that's just swell, now we know who we're dealing with. See if you can get him to Main when we arrive, skip the president I hate bullshit. Why hasn't someone attended to the obvious?"
West looked condemning. "Decisions are delivered by politics, often involves bullshit as you have just mentioned, we need action sir and under the circumstances I suggest you take control."
Ward Pugsley walked toward the bridge exit speaking as he made haste. "Grant, Wayne come with me we need a plan, Buck get us back to the states SAP, make it Norfolk, at least we have control there to a certain degree. Get word to Sivert we want to see him there when we arrive." The three joint chiefs left the bridge, Buck West took control and looked out over the carriers deck with binoculars calling instructions to officers on the bridge. The giant ship pulled anchor and began to move.