“Do your best, brother,” David replied. “I’ll be right with you.”
David picked up the satphone and took it off speakerphone. “I need some more help down here, Jack. We’re not going to make it more than a few minutes.”
“I see it and I’m on it,” Zalinsky replied. “You just stay focused. I’m going to walk you through this.”
Fox opened fire once again. Then, to David’s surprise, he lobbed two hand grenades at the Syrian forces coming up Rue Ash ’Sham. David hadn’t realized Fox had any grenades with him, but the successive explosions shook the ambulance violently. Seconds later, the car shook harder as another Hellfire missile streaked down from a Predator and created an even more enormous explosion at the head of the street. It likely bought them a few more minutes, but David’s hands were shaking badly now, and he wondered if any of this movement could set off the warhead.
“Steady, Zephyr, steady,” Zalinsky ordered. “Take a deep breath. Wipe your brow. Wipe off your hands, and focus. The last thing you want is sweat dripping into the interior.”
“Got it,” David said and followed his orders. “Okay, I’m ready.”
“Good. Now, you need to find the wires coming from the power source,” Zalinsky said.
“There are all kinds of wires here, sir,” David replied.
“Atom bomb makers use pure gold to make their wires because gold is most conducive for electricity,” said Zalinsky. “My experts here say the Pakistanis typically insulate these wires with yellow plastic. Do you see any yellow wires?”
“Yes, one.”
“Where does it lead?”
David carefully followed the yellow trail to a small metal cylinder in the lower right, directly across from the booster gas canister.
“It looks like a flux compression generator,” he told Zalinsky.
“That’s it,” said Zalinsky. “Okay, now, you need to cut the yellow wire.”
David wiped his brow again.
“Is there any chance this thing is rigged with security devices?” he asked.
“Like what?” Zalinsky asked.
“Like something to make the core detonate if it’s tampered with?”
“Probably not.”
“Probably not?”
“There would be no point to it,” Zalinsky said. “The warhead is designed to be fired at Israel — or at us — not to accidentally detonate in Iran or Syria.”
David’s eyes were still watering from the heat and smoke. His fingers quivered as he lowered his Swiss Army knife into the warhead and prepared to snip the wires.
“One thing, though,” Zalinsky suddenly added.
“What’s that?”
“I wouldn’t touch anything metal on or near the plutonium core.”
“Why not?”
“I just wouldn’t.”
David tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry. He desperately needed a drink of water but realized he hadn’t taken any of the water bottles they’d brought from the car.
“Fine, here goes,” he said. “Wish me luck.”
Zalinsky, however, didn’t say a word. David said a silent prayer, then again lowered the knife into the warhead, said a second prayer, and snipped the yellow wire. Nothing happened. That was good, wasn’t it? David wondered. They were still here. The bomb hadn’t gone off. But they were not done.
“Finished?” Zalinsky asked.
Fox was shooting again. Now so was Crenshaw.
“Yes.”
“Okay, you need to stuff the pit.”
“What?”
“The pit,” Zalinsky repeated. “The hollow sphere of plutonium — can you see it?”
“I can see where it is,” David replied, hearing bullets beginning to whiz by the vehicle. “But I can’t see it directly.”
“That’s fine. That’s okay. Now, there should be a small, thin tube that goes into the center of that pit.”
“To feed the tritium?”
“Exactly.”
“Okay, I see the tube.”
“Good,” said Zalinsky. “You need to clip the near end of that tube and then feed in some steel wire through the tube and into the pit.”
Bullets were now smashing into the side of the ambulance. Every muscle in David’s body tensed. But he couldn’t stop now. Fox and Crenshaw were firing short bursts in multiple directions, trying to keep their attackers at bay. They were sacrificing their own lives to protect David, so he could disable this warhead and make all that they’d been through worth it. If he failed, it would all be for naught.
He forced himself not to think about the other warhead, the one at Al-Mazzah. That one was already attached to a Scud-C ballistic missile. It was going to be fired soon, likely within the hour and maybe sooner once word got back to the Mahdi of the battle under way over this warhead. How were they going to get there in time? How were they possibly going to stop that missile from being fired? Doubt and fear kept pushing their way into David’s thoughts, but he forced them out. He couldn’t let himself get distracted. He had a job to do, and he had to finish.
Reaching into the core of the warhead once more, David tried to cut the tubing but couldn’t get enough leverage. Careful not to touch the scissors to anything but the tiny tube, he leaned in farther and again tried to snip it clean. Glass started smashing around him. More bullets were flying. The gunfight was intensifying, and now Fox was shrieking in pain. He’d been hit. The next moment, another Hellfire missile rained down from above, brutally shaking the ambulance and knocking David onto his side.
Sparks flew inside the warhead. David pulled out his hand and with it the scissors, then held his breath for a few moments. Still, the warhead did not go off. They were still alive, but they wouldn’t be for much longer. Wiping soot from his eyes, he reached back into the warhead with the knife. The scissors weren’t working. They were too small. So using the knife, he began carefully but quickly trying to saw his way through the tube. To his surprise, it was working. He was making progress. And soon he had cut clean through.
“I got it!” he shouted to Zalinsky.
“You got the tube open?”
“Yeah, I’m in; I got it,” David repeated.
“Good, now you need to find some steel wire.”
“Where?”
“I have no clue.”
The gunfire had erupted again. David frantically tried to imagine where he could find steel wire. He had no idea, and it angered him. If this was so important, why hadn’t Zalinsky told them to bring it with them? Then again, maybe he had. The last few days were a blur. David had barely slept, barely eaten. He wasn’t thinking sharply. And now he needed steel wire. He called out to Fox and Crenshaw. He told them what he needed, but not why. Neither had steel wire or any suggestion where to find some. He desperately looked around the ambulance but realized that all the medical supplies had been removed. He scrambled into the front passenger seat, wiping more sweat from his face and looking for anything he could possibly use. He found nothing.
He spotted the car’s two-way radio system and quickly ripped it out of the dashboard and smashed it open. But there were no wires to be found. It was all solid-state electronic circuit boards. He looked up through the shattered front windshield to see who Fox and Crenshaw were shooting at now, and as he did, he noticed the Chinese-made radio antenna sticking up from the side of the front hood. It was a K-28 model for two-way CB radios. He grabbed the satphone and described the relatively thin antenna to Zalinsky.
“That’s perfect,” said Zalinsky. “That’ll do. Just go quickly.”
David kicked open the side door, grabbed the antenna, snapped it off its mount, and scrambled back into the rear of the ambulance. “Now what?” he asked.