“Jesus Christ.” Caesare said putting his hands over his face. “This just gets better and better.”
“You don’t know the half of it.” Clay said.
Caesare dropped his hands and looked forlornly at Clay. “What?”
Clay sighed and proceeded to tell them about his conversation with Palin. When he was done, they both had the same look as he and Keister had. He waited for them to digest it before continuing. “And it gets worse. Langford was in on those closed door meetings afterwards. When he came out, he pulled me aside and explained that they had been discussing two things, first and foremost was the details of the submarine attack which we all know about. The rest of the meeting however, was about Plan B.”
“Plan B?” Borger asked.
Caesare frowned. “There is always a Plan B. The backup plan. In fact, there is probably a backup plan to the backup plan. Let me guess, Stevas?”
Clay nodded. “Stevas is no dummy. He’s an ass and a war monger, but he is not stupid. He knows that there must be a backup plan, and that’s what they were working out.”
Caesare studied Clay. “So do you know what this backup plan is?”
“Langford told me that if the sub attack fails then they plan to nuke it.”
“Jesus.” Caesare moaned and put his hand over his face again. “Those subs have all the nukes they could need.”
“No.” Clay shook his head. “That’s not how they plan to do it. That was the original idea but they have another angle. They plan to send it in…on the back of one of those dolphins.”
“The talking dolphins?” Borger asked.
“Yes.” Clay said. “Apparently Stevas is now a believer. They know where the ring is, they’ve been there before, and if Palin’s people are looking at the subs they probably aren’t going to be looking too closely at the fish swimming in and out.” Clay looked back and forth at them. “Remote detonation.”
The room was silent. No one spoke.
“And that’s not all.” Clay finally said.
Caesare moaned again. “For the love of God!”
Clay spoke deliberately. “Langford wants us to do it.”
They both looked confused. “He wants us to do what?”
“He wants us to steal the dolphins and the equipment.”
33
Kathryn leaned her seat back and tried to get comfortable as they pulled away from the gate. This plane was large and comfortable compared to the last two she had been on. It was amazing what a little heat and lack of a pressurized flight suit could do to improve someone’s experience. She felt like a new person after being fed and getting a few undisturbed hours of sleep.
She closed her eyes and thought about what lay ahead of her, the flight back to the Falklands, the explanation to her team, and a frantic attempt to prevent a catastrophe. The long flight was the least of her worries. If anything it was a blessing that would give her time to figure out how to tell her team that some of them had to go back.
She thought back to the meeting with the President and his cabinet. At least they listened to her this time, although it may have had something to do with her essentially telling them all to go to hell. But it also got a commitment from the President to give her whatever resources she needed, so maybe it was not all bad. In addition to the money, he ordered his Chief of Staff Mason to make available whoever Kathryn needed with no exceptions. Her first order of business was to contact a number of international experts that she would need in addition to her own team. The second priority was to locate some of the best demolition teams in the country. Something Mason and his staff were working on. Next was to procure the supplies needed, and finally they had to do it all quietly. Yes, she thought, she had a lot to work through. A long flight was just what she needed.
She opened a backpack and retrieved a laptop computer provided by one of the administrative assistants at JAX. She placed it on the table in front of her and turned it on. As she leaned her seat forward again, the door behind her opened and a steward approached with a phone.
“Ms. Lokke?” he asked.
“Yes?”
He handed her the phone. “You have a call.”
She gave him a surprised look and glanced through the window at the dark tarmac passing under them. “Now?”
He simply nodded and left.
She held the phone to her ear. “Hello?”
“Is this Ms. Lokke?”
“Speaking.”
“Ms. Lokke, my name is John Clay. I don’t know if you remember me, but we met this morning in the conference room.”
“I remember you,” she replied. “Weren’t you the one that asked me the causality question?”
She could not hear Clay smile on the other end. “Yes, I did. You have a very good memory. Listen Ms. Lokke, I know this may not be an ideal time but I have something important to ask you.”
“Okay.”
“This is going to sound like a strange question,” Clay said, “but could other outside factors contribute to a collapse of the ice shelf?”
She frowned. “What kind of outside factors?”
“Say, for example, vibrations or shock waves?”
Kathryn thought for a moment. “I suppose it would have to depend on what kind of shock waves and how strong they were.”
“Well, as you probably know the government sometimes conducts underwater detonations of weapons for testing purposes.” Clay said.
“Shock waves or vibrations do travel well underwater, but I suspect those kinds of detonations would be too small to have much of an effect. The ice shelf is very far away. Unless of course one of your tests were carried out very close to it.”
“I see.” said Clay. “And what if the magnitude were much greater, say a nuclear detonation?”
Kathryn’s eyes opened wide. “Are you telling me that you have a nuclear test planned? Where?!”
“The mid-Atlantic,” answered Clay.
“Yes! That would be very dangerous. It’s a straight shot down the Atlantic right to the Ronne!”
“I was afraid of that.”
“Mr. Clay, listen to me.” Kathryn pressed the phone to her ear as the plane’s engines grew louder in preparation for takeoff. “If you guys are planning a nuclear test in the Atlantic, you must stop immediately! Do you understand?”
“Yes ma’am I do.”
Clay thanked Kathryn and ended the call. He was quiet for a long moment before turning to Caesare and Borger who were listening, “So…how bad do you guys want your pensions?”
Caesare shrugged. “Well if there ends up being no place to spend it…”
They both looked at Borger who shook his head. “Don’t look at me, I’m a contractor.”
Clay walked forward and sat down in front of them. He sat thinking and then turned to Borger. “Will, do you have any hacking skills?”
He nodded. “In my last job, I was a White Hat.”
“What’s a White Hat?” Caesare asked.
“People that hack computers for nefarious purposes are called Black Hats.” He grinned. “White Hats are the guys who catch them.”
34
The small airfield in Homerville, Georgia looked like something out of an old Hollywood movie. The runway looked nearly abandoned and barely usable. A row of two dozen hangers lined the west side of the field near the entrance, most of which were empty collecting dust and leaves. Not far away stood what was left of a small café, boarded up with a crooked sign hanging precariously from the roof that read “Dolly’s Café”.