Cobra

by David E. Meadows

  “And he will be the same when the board finishes its findings.” Rear Admiral Devlin took a sip of the strong coffee.

  Mitchell, the shaven-head mess specialist, approached with a tray of freshly cooked raison coffee cakes.

  Mitchell’s usual banter, fighting off hands grabbing the fresh, hot pastries before he could set the tray on the table, was missing. One cake rolled off the tray and bounced on the tile floor. A week ago, the person responsible would have earned a caustic eye from the professional. Today, Mitchell continued his trek across the room toward the front table with nary a glance. The raisin cake lay on the floor until a nearby junior officer picked it up and tossed it into the trash can. A nearby mustang — an officer who worked his or her way up through the ranks — glared at the junior officer. Wasn’t a damn thing wrong with that cake that a brush of the hand wouldn’t have cleaned. It wasn’t as if it landed facedown.

  Mitchell nodded to the admiral and Captain Holman as he set the dishes in front of them.

  “Thanks, Mitchell,” Rear Admiral Devlin said, reaching forward and taking one of the hot cakes.

  “You’re welcome, sir,” the petty officer said before turning and silently leaving the compartment.

  “Mitchell isn’t happy,” Devlin said between bites. “But he still makes great pastries. No wonder Gordon kept him with him wherever he went.”

  “I think Mitchell has taken the departure of Admiral Cameron a little harder than most. If I was the general, I wouldn’t have Mitchell cook for me.”

  Devlin swallowed. “This wasn’t General Lewis’s doing. I was in the room when Lewis broke the news to Cameron about being relieved and being ordered to Washington. Hard to believe, but Lewis was genuinely upset over Gordon being ordered back to Washington. If he wasn’t, he put on a great job of acting.

  “Probably because in his own mind he sees where something like that could happen to him.”

  Devlin took a bite out of a second coffee cake. He shook his head, pointed to his mouth, telling Dick to give him a second to finish this mouthful. Dick wished he had the Admiral’s metabolism as he pushed a half-eaten piece of pastry away.

  “No, I disagree. My communications officer, Paul Brooks—”

  “He’s your cryptologic officer, sir.”

  “My cryptologic officer, Paul Brooks, told me the general went up behind the green door and called the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff directly, General Eaglefield, and asked that he rescind the order from the Navy. From what Captain Brooks said, the conversation got a little heavy, and from some of the language going back and forth, if the two generals didn’t know each other, they do now.”

  “You mean the chairman refused a commander of a Joint Task Force his request? That’s a new one. Most times, they give the benefit of doubt to the commander in the field.”

  “They should. Unfortunately, it doesn’t always work that way. General Eaglefield not only refused Lewis’s request, but from what Brooks was able to garner out of the conversation, the order came from high up.”

  “Meaning what?”

  “Meaning either Secdef or the president ordered Cameron’s relief. I would put my money on the president. General Eagle field has Maddock wrapped around his finger when it comes to military strategy and tactics. It’s only budget issues where Eaglefield bows to Maddock’s wishes. So, maybe you are right about this relief of Admiral Cameron being more political than traditional.”

  “And we went through this whole convoluted thought process to figure it out.”

  “Eh! You’re still a captain, remember.”

  The hatch to the Operations briefing room burst open, bouncing back to clang against the steel doorstop. Dick and Pete Devlin exchanged glances. They knew the sound. Navy hatches, designed for watertight integrity, lack the springs, pumps, and other accessories normal doors have to ease opening and closing. Hatches have nothing attached to stop their movement once opened. Sailors familiar with shipboard life soon learn never to stand behind a hatch and to open and close them slowly.

  Steel doorstops are welded to protect the bulkheads when the uninitiated send a steel hatch rocketing in a 180-degree scythe. General Lewis, on board over four weeks, had yet to learn the secret of moving gracefully from compartment to compartment.

  He attacked each hatch, each door, and each knee-knocker as if taking an enemy foxhole. Scuttlebutt had quickly circulated among the crew to treat the general like an aircraft carrier; stand clear of the hatches when he was maneuvering.

  “Attention on deck!” Kurt Lederman shouted as Lieutenant General Leutze “Call Me Rocky” Lewis entered the compartment. Behind the Army commander of the Joint Task Force scurried his aide, Colonel Brad Storey.

  Devlin and Holman stood as Lewis marched to their table and sat down.

  “Hooah, take seats,” Lewis said as he pulled his chair to the table.

  Colonel Storey, immaculate in his freshly starched, military creased uniform, stood slightly to the rear of the general. He grinned at Rear Admiral Devlin before sitting down. Storey leaned back in his chair, his brown eyebrows arched for a moment as he mouthed a cheerful

  “Good Morning” to Dick. A future congressman or senator if he had ever seen one, Dick said to himself.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting. I had some ‘ for’ messages that just came in, talked with General Sutherland in Stuttgart, and had a quick conversation with the British battle group commander, Admiral Sir Ledderman-Thompson. They do go for the long-drawn-out names, don’t they?

  I’ll brief you later. Meanwhile,” Lewis paused, glancing at Kurt Lederman. “Go ahead with the update, Captain, and we’ll see if what you say agrees with what I’ve been told.”

  “Aye, sir,” Kurt replied, miffed over being put to a test. He nodded to the graphics operator. The first view graph containing a geographical map of the western Mediterranean appeared on the screen.

  “General Lewis, Admiral Devlin, a quick synopsis of our current status before addressing the emergency operation order received two hours ago.”

  “Make it a real quick synopsis, Captain,” General Lewis interrupted curtly.

  “Yes, sir. The Spanish Expeditionary Force that penetrated into western Algeria four weeks ago has relieved the besieged Algerian loyalist force at Oran as well as occupied the nearby naval base. They appear to be consolidating their position and establishing a logistics base before further advances — if they intend to advance. We believe they will. The presence of the Algerian loyalist forces lends legitimacy to the Spanish forces. The Algerian Navy units that had previously sought sanctuary in Malaga, Spain, are already beginning to return to Oran.”

  Kurt pointed on the map to the location of the eastern Spanish port of Malaga. “The Algerian Kilo submarine associated with the crash of Ranger Two Nine has been granted asylum in Malaga, Spain. Interrogation of its captain revealed that this submarine was responsible for the mining of the Strait of Gibraltar. The mines were programmed to deactivate after thirty days. This supports what Navy Intelligence had already determined. The mine threat in the Strait no longer exists. The Spanish are confirming the deactivation and will get back to us as soon as possible.”

  The intelligence officer nodded at the operator. “Next slide.” Using a laser pointer, Captain Lederman highlighted on the map the Korean capitol of Seoul. “American forces have halted the advancing North Korean armor attack. American airpower has full air superiority over the peninsula and Operation Full Stop has commenced. For review, General, Operation Full Stop is a combined allied-force air campaign to obliterate the logistic pipeline running from North Korea to its forces engaged in the south. Simultaneously, United States Army armor and artillery divisions are commencing a major attack against the North Koreans, forcing them to use their precious ammunition and giving them no rest. Amphibious Task Forces continue to build in the Sea of Japan.

  Kurt cleared his throat. “The USS Kearsarge has been ordered to remain on station with Task Force African Force but to be pre
pared to execute earlier order to commence a highspeed run around South Africa. When Full Stop terminates in approximately thirty days, the United States Navy and Marine Corps assets off Korea will have four full Amphibious Task Forces— nearly a division of Marines.”

  Kurt nodded again. “Next slide.”

  “Aha!” General Lewis said, grinning from ear to ear. “I win, Captain.”

  “Sir?”

  “What you don’t know,” General Lewis said, standing so he could face the assembled officers. “What none of you know, but I know you will be pleased to hear, is that about an hour ago, the North Koreans accepted the terms of peace as dictated by General Marks, Commander of United States Forces in Korea. The major attack that Captain Lederman just briefed went better than expected. Thought was that the North Koreans would slug it out and make us fight for every inch of territory.” He laughed, drawing wide-eyed stares from a room full of people who had never even seen Lewis grin, much less laugh.

  “They broke! The North Koreans broke and ran. They were low on fuel, ammo, and food. As we sit here in the Mediterranean, a half world away, we have not only contained a major theater war, but we have won it. When we know more, we will share it, but for the time being, forces that are in the Mediterranean will remain here. General Eaglefield has already directed two of the aircraft carriers in the Sea of Japan to head here along with one of the Marine Expeditionary Forces. So, instead of losing forces and possibly having to vacate the Med itself, within a couple of weeks, we will actually increase our strength to a size capable of taking the North African littoral if we want.”

  It was one clap at first, followed by another, until the whole compartment erupted into thunderous applause. After a couple of minutes, it wound down, and General Lewis sat back down and motioned for Kurt to continue.

  “Next slide.” A photo of Algerian tactical aircraft appeared on the screen beside a small map of Libya. The three major cities of Libya — Tripoli, Benghazi, and Tobruk — were highlighted with red stars.

  “We still have approximately thirty fighter-attack rebel aircraft unaccounted for.” His pointer moved to the map of Libya. “The CIA and NSA report that Colonel Mumtaz Alqahiray has overthrown the current Libyan leaders and returned to power. Alqahiray has been identified as responsible for the North African crisis. Information from the National Infrastructure Protection Center at FBI headquarters has linked Alqahiray with the terrorist network Al-Qaida. Alqahiray is controlling the military and the government from somewhere south of Tripoli in a deep, underground bunker.”

  “They do love the underground, don’t they?” General Lewis piped softly.

  “The previous leaders, led by a Colonel Walid, have set up a provisional government in Benghazi. This will most likely spark an internal conflict within the new government, or at a minimum within Libya. Captain Paul Brooks will tell us more about Colonel Alqahiray and his location later.”

  “Next slide. The primary reason we are here today is to discuss the recent reports from the Hungarian Intelligence Service.” Five lines of text against a green background filled the viewing screen. Kurt knew the secret of presentations was never to give viewers hard copies of the slide show. When you did, they spent their time going through the copies rather than listening to what was being said. The five lines of text were there to focus audience attention, not answer their unasked questions.

  “A member of the Hungarian Intelligence Service infiltrated a Libyan project to build biological warheads. Six Russian scientists, along with the agent, were incommunicado in the same bunker where Alqahiray is holed up. The seven escaped, made their way to Tripoli, where the Russians went to their embassy, and the Hungarian agent worked his way to his. According to the Hungarians, Colonel Alqahiray personally ordered the attack that sank the USS Gearing and was responsible for the information warfare attack on the geopositional satellites used for navigation. This attack caused the USS Gearing to inadvertently penetrate Libyan waters, giving Alqahiray the excuse needed to attack her.

  The laser pointer highlighted the first line of text, which read, “Twelve missiles — two armed.”

  “Twelve missiles were deployed last night via a system of underground tunnels built by the late Qaddafi. According to the agent, the Russians and he disarmed ten of the twelve missiles. That means two of the missiles have biological warheads on them.”

  Kurt moved his laser down a line: “High Probability of use.”

  “The CIA assesses Colonel Alqahiray will fire the missiles. The missiles are aimed … “

  Kurt moved the laser down to the third line: “Italy, Spain, or Greece — Includes major island groups.”

  “… toward Europe. The range of the Libyan Al-Fatah II, which is the follow-on to the original ‘90s Al-Fatah ballistic missile, is over one thousand nautical miles. This gives it the range to hit anywhere along the Mediterranean coast. It can hit Israel from the Libyan eastern border areas and Spain from its western border.

  Nearly all of Italy and Greece are within range.”

  Kurt moved his pointer to the fourth line. “A ten-kilo anthrax warhead designed to disperse the biological agent from altitude is still active on two unlocated missiles.”

  “I think most of us have had our anthrax shots,” Rear Admiral Devlin said, addressing General Lewis.

  “Will they be effective against this strain of anthrax?” General Lewis asked.

  “Dr. Jacobs!” Admiral Devlin shouted.

  Captain Charles “Chuck” Jacobs, the Sixth Fleet surgeon, stepped into the small cone of light near the front of the compartment. “Yes, sir, Admiral?”

  “What is the status of our anthrax vaccinations?”

  Chuck Jacobs shook his head. “Not too good, sirs. Most of the old-timers have the vaccinations, and we are unsure if they are still effective after such a long time. I would put the number of those, not only in the Navy, but in all the military services with vaccination shots at less than thirty percent, and most of them don’t have the four shots required to complete the program. General, as I am sure you are aware, the anthrax vaccination program requires an annual booster shot. I would doubt if more than ten percent have the booster shot.” Chuck Jacobs had reviewed the immunization records by sorting them according to anthrax.

  The resulting computer readout showed that only he, Clive Bowen, who had left with Admiral Cameron, and the command master chief of the USS Stennis had kept their booster shots up to date. Three people out of thousands on board the aircraft carrier and the Sixth Fleet staff.

  Anthrax vaccine was in limited supply with the couple of pharmaceutical companies making it unable to meet the demands of the civilian population in America and the American military.

  “Without the booster shot, is the vaccination worthless?” Pete Devlin asked.

  “Don’t know, Admiral. Not necessarily. The vaccination still has some value; it’s just the booster keeps that value at its peak.”

  “What can you tell us about anthrax?” General Lewis asked.

  “Not much more than nearly everyone here already knows.

  Every one of us lived through the anthrax attack against America years ago.” Then, for the next twenty minutes, the fleet surgeon reviewed the deadly disease, detailing how spore-forming bacteria caused anthrax commonly found in warm-blooded animals. How inhalation anthrax was the deadliest, but with the right combination of antibiotics administered early enough, even it could be cured. American intelligence agencies had discovered in the late 1990s that several terrorist-supporting nations, such as Iraq, North Korea, Iran, and Libya, had bioterrorist strategies centered on aerosol delivery of anthrax. A Defense Science Board report in 2000 warned that unvaccinated exposure to anthrax would result in a near 100 percent casualty rate. No one listened to the countless warnings by countless authorities before countless committees until that first anthrax-laden letter had hit Florida. Now, most Americans knew more about anthrax than they ever wanted to know. Dr. Jacobs warmed to his subject as he paced the
front of the briefing room, revealing how anthrax could be spread in three ways: through a cut in the skin, by ingestion while eating, or by inhalation.

  Kurt Lederman interrupted to point out that a small explosive device in the enemy warhead would activate during the descent phase. The warheads are programmed to explode at approximately ten thousand feet. At this altitude, the explosion would spread the anthrax through the atmosphere in a thorough fashion that would ensure no one avoided inhaling the biological agent.

  “In which case, everyone who breathes in those spores will contract anthrax,” Dr. Jacobs said.

  An interested Marine Corps officer in the dark shadows of the back of the room asked how they could recognize an anthrax attack.

  Dr. Jacobs thought a few minutes before replying. “Anthrax is colorless, odorless, and tasteless. It’s a spore, so if it gathers in one spot sufficiently enough, you can see it. Symptoms vary, depending on how it is contracted. Inhaling the spore will cause initial symptoms similar to the common cold or a mild case of flu, but you shouldn’t have a runny nose. Experts say that it takes sometimes two weeks for inhalation anthrax to appear. Weaponized anthrax can appear in seventy-two to ninety hours after inhaling the bacterium. Severe breathing problems followed by the onset of shock will occur. Death usually results within forty-eight hours after the onset of the coldlike symptoms. So, if you have inhalation anthrax and think you are coming down with the flu, then you are already too late.”

  How can they recognize something like that, another officer asked. They could not go running around every time someone had a cold or the flu, shouting anthrax attack!

  Dr. Jacobs shrugged his shoulders, suggesting that only by early recognition of a larger than normal number of coldlike symptoms could the presence of the biological agent be considered. If caught early enough, it was possible to save some lives. Most anthrax is susceptible to penicillin, but as early as the ‘70s, virulent strains resistant to penicillin had been identified. This would give them maximum dispersal range. It is possible to treat anthrax during this phase with penicillin or, if the strain is penicillin resistant, with another antibiotic.