Against All Odds (Book 2): As We Break

by Hunt, Jack

  “All right. But just answer this one thing. Do you believe that the ICBMs are vulnerable because of the aging command-and-control technology?”

  “I already told you, the computer system that we work with is unhackable.”

  “I understood that. What I’m speaking about is the missile silos’ radio receivers and HICS cables.”

  He rolled over and looked at her and clenched his jaw.

  “Yes, there is a potential that someone with the capability could breach the fire-walled system but they would need to have a strong reason and a determined team willing to die.”

  “So Liam Westborough was right.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Why did I know you were going to drop that name? Listen, the guys is a sleaze. He got fired from here and instead of doing the right thing and keeping his mouth shut, he put out a book and let his gums flap on multiple radio interviews. Take everything he says with a grain of salt.”

  “He worked here.”

  “I know. I worked alongside him.”

  “Then why would he lie?”

  “Because he wants to sell books and get back at the Air Force for screwing up.”

  “He says it was nothing to do with him and it was a missile technician who dropped a socket.”

  “And it plunged seventy feet and pierced the side of the missile, punctured and released pressurized rocket fuel. I already know that. But there is a lot about that incident that he didn’t tell you about. Like the fact that he wasn’t manning his station at the time; he’d stepped out and was chatting with the technician.”

  “He said he had to use one of the toilets upstairs because this one was broke.”

  “He had a job to do, and interfering and shooting the breeze with a tech was not part of it.”

  Mia nodded. “But that doesn’t take away from what he said. The radio antenna at the unmanned missile silo is designed to identify targets, arm, and launch if there is a breakdown inside this capsule. He said that that it could allow hackers to prevent a loss of control over the missiles.”

  “Potentially.”

  “C’mon, sir, you and I both know that it’s true.”

  He groaned and shook his head.

  “And what about the thousands of cables underground connecting all the missile silos with the launch control centers?”

  “It’s six foot underground.”

  “And?”

  “It has a limited amount of bandwidth. It might be old but it’s secure.”

  “But if someone does manage to tap into one of the cables and gain access to the conduits, they could control, target, enable and fire the missiles.”

  “Yes but it won’t happen.”

  “Famous last words,” she said, turning back to the console. Her views on the military had changed a lot since she’d joined the Air Force. At one time she thought they were light years ahead. She’d imagined she would see technology that the public wasn’t aware about, and be privy to information that only those in the higher-ups would hear about, but it was the complete opposite. She was nothing but a number — an important part of the overall machine but just another cog in the works. As her eyes glazed over all the old equipment she couldn’t help wonder what changes they would make when it came time to update this all and bring it into the twenty-first century. She’d heard word that it was going to happen but what was said and what was eventually done were two different things. Promises were broken all the time as budgets were cut and finances were reassigned. She was sure that most of it was going to the fat cats in Washington, the ones who called the shots but never got blood on their hands.

  Mia sighed, she felt like an executioner, ready to flip the switch.

  She sank back into her seat and heard the curtain behind her slide across.

  “Don’t wake me up unless it’s an emergency.”

  “Yeah, whatever.”

  Mia hadn’t wanted to be a missiler. She and several of her classmates had wanted to go to medical school but her parents had other ideas. After joining the Air Force and getting her assignment she would have been lying to say she didn’t regret signing up. It felt like a mismatch. She’d studied math and linguistics and had no idea about missiles. It wasn’t glamorous or desired. It meant working eight shifts a month, getting no weekends, and there were no holidays. It was only after she got assigned did a few of her colleagues tell her it was considered a dead-end job.

  No sooner had she looked away from her console than a red light started flashing off to her left. An alarm rang out, and Douglas nearly fell out of his bed. She knew instantly what that meant — the motion sensors had gone off. Someone or something was on the property.

  Chapter 7

  He was furious and he knew who was behind it.

  Richard saw the smashed windows long before he stepped inside with Eric in his shadow. An hour earlier he’d been overseeing the work at the shelter when he got word from a neighbor.

  “I know it was him.”

  “You don’t know that for sure,” Eric said. “There were a lot of people at the town hall meeting who were against you.”

  Richard wouldn’t listen to reason. He stopped to pick up a framed photo of him and his wife. The glass was cracked, and the frame broken. He removed the photo and tossed the rest, then moved into the living room where he looked at the message sprayed on the wall. Then it dawned on him. Richard hurried down the hallway and burst into his garage. His stomach dropped. No. No!

  He shook his head, feeling his blood boil inside. Heads were going to roll for this. After all he had done for them. He wasn’t ready to point the finger but he was damn sure Sam was behind it.

  “Bullshit. We went an entire week without any issues. And then Sam shows up, we get into a little confrontation and he reacts. Well, he’s stepped over the line this time.”

  Leaving Eric in the living room he went into his basement and approached the far side of the room. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure Eric wasn’t there before he pushed in an ordinary stone on his fireplace. There was a click. Across the room a section of his library shelves popped out. He went over and opened it to reveal a large safe. A few turns and it clicked open. Inside were several legal envelopes, stacks of cash, and a Glock 22. He took it out and slammed a magazine into the chamber, closed the safe and headed back upstairs.

  “Eric,” he said, gesturing for him to follow. In the kitchen he began searching for a bottle of bourbon. He found it on the ground, smashed to pieces. It was over forty years old. Bastards, he thought as he crouched and looked inside an empty cupboard for more of his stash.

  “What is it?”

  “On the table. Take it.”

  Richard got up and looked at him. Eric frowned as he gazed at the Glock 22.

  “What’s that for?”

  “You remember what I said the night we buried the kid?”

  He shook his head so Richard went over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I said that one day there might come a time when I need you to do something for me.”

  He clued in immediately and quickly backed up from the gun, raising his hands.

  “No. No. I’m not killing anyone for you. I’m not stepping over that line.”

  “Eric. Look around you. The line has already been crossed. An attack on me is an attack on you and everyone else that I work with. Now I want you to do something for me.”

  “I’m sorry, I can’t be a part of it.”

  Richard’s brow pinched together and he leaned against the breakfast counter. “You act as if you have a choice. Remember, you came to me after you killed that kid. I could have turned you in but I didn’t. The only reason you are not behind bars right now is because of me.” He straightened and walked over to Eric and cupped a hand around his neck pulling his head tight against his own. “We have to stick together. This is just the beginning. I was speaking with the chief today about the situation in the town. It’s got worse, Eric. Much worse. Home invasions. Rape. Beatings. It won’t be long before some
one is killed. That could be you.”

  He let those words linger. He knew how to leverage his fears against him. He’d seen it in Eric’s eyes. Although Eric knew the law like the back of his hand — not even he could wiggle his way out of the situation he’d got himself in.

  Richard continued. “The jail cells are already starting to fill up. Under the circumstances it wouldn’t be surprising if a mob wanted your head for what you did to that kid.”

  “It was an accident.”

  “I know it was. And so will this be,” he said taking the gun and placing it into his hand. “Tonight, I want you to kill him. No mistakes.”

  He kept shaking his head like he was in shock.

  “But…”

  “I’ll arrange it all. We have a meeting tonight to discuss the situation. I want you there. Maybe I can draw him away to get an answer if he’s decided to help the chief or not. When everyone is inside, you’ll take the shot. I’ll say I didn’t recognize the shooter.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Unless you have a better idea.”

  “But.”

  “No buts, Eric. I want it done and you’re going to do it. Or, I can go and speak with Chief Sanchez and let him know where the body is buried and that you came to me to confess. That would be a real shame. I don’t want to do that.”

  “Richard, c’mon. Don’t you think this is a bit extreme? Okay, so your house got messed up. You can bounce back from that. No one has been hurt. Think about what you’re asking me to do.”

  He smiled. “You think I want to do this?”

  “Then don’t. Report him to Sanchez. Toss him in jail.”

  “How do I prove it? Huh? Anyone could have done this, Eric.”

  “Exactly!” he yelled at the top of his voice. “And yet you are acting as if you know it’s him just because he’s taken your granddaughter away.”

  “It’s not just that.”

  “No? What is it then, huh? Because I’m starting to think Helen was right about you.”

  Richard’s eyes narrowed. “Is that so?”

  “Yeah.”

  He rolled his bottom lip and took a step back and looked around. “All right then, come out with it. What did she say?”

  “She said you were controlling her life. She said you blamed Sam for your wife’s death.”

  “He played a role.”

  “She died from cancer, Richard. For God’s sake, man!”

  There was a long stretch of silence between them.

  “So are you going to do it or not?” Richard asked avoiding the discussion any further. He was done talking.

  “Richard. Please.”

  “Yes or no?”

  Eric tried to turn it around on him. “Your DNA is all over that kid as well.”

  He smiled. “Oh that’s how you’re going to play this?”

  “Well look at what you’re asking me to do!” Eric bellowed back.

  “And remember what you asked me to do. I helped you.”

  “It was different. I didn’t ask you to take a life.”

  “No, you just wanted me to cover it up. Make it go away. Well now I’m asking you to make something go away. But…” he turned and walked over the window, a smile forming on his face. “If you would rather not, fine. I’m sure we can see what Sanchez will say.” He didn’t have to wait there long. Eric was weak. Weak people always buckled. It was in their nature. Not him. Over the years he’d grown thick skin, weathered the storms of change and faced all manner of trials. This was a walk in the park.

  “I’ll do it but after this, we are done.”

  “Good lad,” he said turning around. “Let’s not discuss tomorrow. Let’s talk about how we’ll do this.” He drew him in and began to lay out how it would go down.

  Was it extreme? Maybe. But in his mind, Sam was like a disease that wouldn’t go away. Since he’d returned he’d already placed his granddaughter’s life in jeopardy. He wasn’t going to let him take her away from him. She was all he had left, and he would fight to hold on to that.

  It took him over an hour to get loose from his binds. Blake rose to his feet from the smashed chair and dropped the piece of glass that he’d used to cut through the ropes around his arms and feet. He hurried across to his son who was slumped over and tore through the ropes, slicing his own hands in the process. Aidan’s body sank into his arms, a limp mass of bloodied flesh. His clothes were soaked and partially dry. Tears flowed as he held on to his kid and cried out. Thorn had taken everything from him. His wife, his kid, and now his freedom — it would only be a matter of hours before the military would swarm his home and steal him away.

  But that wasn’t what he feared the most.

  It was the repercussions of his actions on American lives.

  He hadn’t just killed his wife and son; he’d hit the switch on the countdown to the demise of America. As soon as those missiles launched, Russia would retaliate and there wouldn’t be a goddamn thing America could do about it. With no power, no communication and nothing to protect them, it would start an all-out war. The UK, and other countries that were considered the USA’s ally, would come to their aid and all hell would break loose.

  Blake remained there holding his son and weeping.

  He didn’t care whether he lived or died now; all that mattered to him was stopping Thorn.

  It wasn’t the first time the motion sensors had gone off. Senior Airman Matthews and Airman First Class Brunson grabbed their gear and headed out to the Peacekeeper armored vehicle. They were used to doing security sweeps. More often than not it was just tumbleweed, a bird, or an animal grazing that set off the motion detectors so they usually weren’t concerned, however, that evening both were expecting the worst. While they went out, the third member of their team would remain at the Launch Control Support Building checking the cameras and providing additional support to the launch crew. The other three weren’t on shift and were in their rooms when the alarm went off. Like all of the security response teams, they were wearing camo fatigues, had backpacks, and were carrying M4 rifles and M9 pistols.

  There was a lot of flat space to cover and it wasn’t always easy to pinpoint an exact location so they had to keep their eyes peeled. With the sun going down visibility was low so they’d brought along necessary equipment to see.

  Matthews was driving while Brunson gave directions.

  “Take a left up here.”

  “I swear if this is another jackrabbit, I’m shooting it and putting it in a stew.”

  Brunson chuckled.

  They drove for several miles until Brunson told him it was up ahead.

  Matthews pulled off to the side of the road, hopped out and took out his NVG binoculars to scan the area from a distance, searching for any suspicious activity. Brunson got out and went over to the gate that led into vast farmland. He unlocked the chain and pushed it open before sprinting up the access road while Matthews provided cover from the Humvee. Matthews watched as Brunson approached the exterior of the missile site and performed a routine check making sure it was secure before signaling for Matthews to advance.

  Matthews jumped back in and drove on in scanning his field of vision.

  He brought the Humvee up and kept it running while Brunson entered the fenced-in missile site and checked the topside looking for anything out of the ordinary. After he was finished conducting his sweep, Matthews would have to perform the same check to make sure he hadn’t missed anything.

  “All secure,” Brunson said returning to the vehicle.

  Matthews followed through doing one last check before they would head back. He got on the radio to communicate with Senior Airman Rigby.

  “How we doing, Rigby? You see anything?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Have you been through the history yet?”

  There were multiple security cameras that allowed them to keep track of the silos for that facility. In the event of trouble Rigby would have contacted the base and called in heavily armed rein
forcements who would arrive by helicopter in minutes.

  “Checking now.”

  As Matthews made his way back, he was just about to give the thumbs-up when a vehicle came up behind the Humvee in the distance. Both of the airmen squinted and Matthews brought up his binoculars.

  “Rigby, you seeing this?”

  “Copy that.”

  “Stand by,” Matthews said getting back into the vehicle and turning it around to block the entrance. They let it idle and positioned it sideways to prevent any access, and then Matthews got out. “Cover me.”

  Raising his M4, he brought his finger to the trigger and kept it ready to engage.

  He cupped a hand over his eyes. The glare from the final rays of the sunset made it hard to see the occupants but he could make out through the NVG binoculars that the van had the word Boeing on the side of it. He knew that they along with Northrop had got the contract to replace the ICBMs and they’d been informed they’d see them but not at this time of the day. What the hell were they doing out here?

  As they got closer he put up a hand to indicate for them to stop. They slowed their vehicle and looked back at Brunson, and gave him a nod for him to join him. Cautiously they approached the vehicle with their rifles raised. The window dropped on the driver’s side and a guy in blue engineer’s clothing waved to them.

  “Driver, turn off the engine,” Matthews said.

  The engine died.

  Brunson went to the passenger side while Matthews approached the driver’s side. Brunson walked around the back and then returned to the passenger side.

  “Sorry guys, we were meant to be out here earlier today but got held up at another job.”

  “We don’t have any information on a crew coming out.”

  “Shit.” He turned to his buddy in the passenger side. Both of them looked like average, hard-working Americans. One had some oil on the side of his neck. Matthews scanned the inside. There was a pack of cigarettes on the dashboard and a newspaper on the seat between them. “I knew they would screw it up. Truth is we were meant to be out here yesterday but the job at Malmstrom set us back a day. We were going to wait until tomorrow but why put off what you can get done today, right?”