Riley bent over to examine it with a growing feeling of coldness in his stomach. He noted the suspension lugs where the bomb could be attached to an aircraft. A serial number was stamped on a small metal plate, halfway down the casing. Riley read the ID and then slowly straightened.
“That’s not just a bomb.” His words were totally flat. He was too numb to have any emotion.
“What do you mean?” Sammy asked as she looked up at him.
“That’s a nuclear bomb.”
“Bullshit.” Devlin was staring into the crate with wide eyes. “How can you know that?”
Riley felt a surge of irritation break through his shock. He pointed his flashlight at the bomb. “I was on a nuke team when I first arrived in a Special Forces Group. A nuke team’s mission is to emplace a tactical ADM — that’s atomic demolitions munition. We were supposed to infiltrate behind enemy lines, put the bomb in the right spot, arm it, and then get the hell out before it blew. That mission was phased out several years ago when they decided cruise missiles could do the job just as well with no chance of compromise.”
Riley glanced at Devlin. “I know you believe that all government workers are idiots, but we were very well trained on nuclear weapons. They take a little more brain power to properly employ than it does to shoot a gun.
“Each nuclear weapon has a special serial number — and this one has the proper designator for a nuclear weapon. If I remember correctly, this looks like an MK/B61, which is a pretty standard nuclear payload for planes.” He looked back at Devlin in the dim light cast by their flashlights. “You may know something about nuclear reactors, but I know about nuclear weapons, and that’s a goddamn nuclear weapon.”
“What about the other box?” Sammy asked.
Riley used the bayonet on that one, levering up the lid. It opened to reveal a similar bomb. Riley checked the serial number. “Another one.”
Sammy seemed mesmerized by the cold gray steel. “You said you know about nuclear weapons. Can that thing be detonated?”
Riley closed his eyes briefly, trying to remember. “There are a lot of safety devices on a nuclear weapon. We had to pass a test every three months that required us to flawlessly complete forty-three separate steps to emplace and arm our nuke.
“A standard nuclear weapon has an enable plug, a ready/safe switch, a separation-timer, pulse thermal batteries, a pulse battery actuator, a time delay switch, and a whole bunch of other things that all have to be operated correctly and in the right sequence. But if someone knows what he’s doing, and has enough time to tinker with it, I have no doubt that he could initiate it — except for one thing. You can’t even begin without—” Riley stopped and blinked.
“What one thing?” Sammy asked, finally looking up from the bomb.
Riley turned and headed out of the unit.
“Where are you going?” Conner yelled after him. When he didn’t answer, they followed.
Riley made his way directly to the mess hall. Swenson looked up as Riley stormed in and grabbed the blue binder off the counter. He thumbed through, turning to the index. He had started reading the material from the beginning but had gotten only halfway through. Now he ran his finger down the index as the others crowded around. He stopped at Emergency Procedures.
Riley rapidly flipped through the binder until he got to the appropriate section. The first page referred them to the operating manual for the reactor in the power room if there were any problems with that. The second page was about getting the tractors out of the east ice storage room using the ramps. The third page consisted of a hand written note. Riley recognized the handwriting from the note that had been taped to the outside of the binder.
The PALs and arming instructions are in the safe.
Glaston
Riley closed his eyes. “Oh, fuck!”
“What does that mean?” Sammy asked as she peered over his shoulder.
Riley opened his eyes and looked at her. “Let’s go out in the hallway.” He led Sammy, Conner, and Devlin out, taking the binder with him. He spoke quietly. “As I was telling you, if someone knows what he’s doing, he can get by all the safeties on those bombs but one. The first and most critical safety is the permissive access link, or PAL. That’s the code that allows you to even begin to arm the bomb. The code and bomb are never kept together for security reasons. The MK/B has a multiple-code six-digit switch with limited try followed by lockout. That means you get two shots at the right code; if you get it wrong both times, you don’t get a third shot — the bomb shuts down.”
Riley stabbed his finger down at the paper. “Except it appears that the PALs for those two bombs are here in the base.” He turned back to the index and scanned. “Here.” He turned to the page displaying a diagram of a unit. “The safe with the PAL codes and arming instructions is located in unit A2.”
Chapter 15
Peter hit the speaker button on the phone as he continued to peruse the computer printout in front of him. “Peter here.”
“It’s me,” a woman’s voice said.
Peter smiled as he recognized the person. “Yes. What can I do for you?”
“My man failed. They found the base and the packages.”
The computer printout was forgotten as Peter sat back in his seat. “Are they going to release the story?”
“Not right away. It’s still being kept in tight. The plan is to wait until a support team gets down there and they can go live.”
“Then we have some time?”
“Yes.”
Peter nodded. “All right. Release the information about the bombs to the other party as you did the initial information. Let’s see how they handle it. They are already interested, and this should whet their appetite. In fact, I’ll send you some additional information over secure modem. I’ll make the other arrangements.”
For the first time the voice sounded uncertain. “Are you sure I should—”
“Do as I say,” Peter ordered. “I will take care of everything else.”
Stu Fernandez stared at the computer screen in confusion. There was a SATCOM message from Conner logged in only ten minutes ago, yet he couldn’t access it. Not only wasn’t the message addressed to him, he couldn’t even get the computer to show him a copy of the message — it was keyed only for the password of the person to whom it was addressed. He looked at the ID code number and frowned. Who was 634822?
Stu went to the directory and punched up the code. “What the heck?” he exclaimed as the screen cleared and the identification came up:
ID Code 634822: J. Russell Parker
Stu had never had a reporter send a message past him. Why was Conner addressing a message directly to the CEO? What was so important that he didn’t have a need to know? Who was the producer of her special anyway? Did it have anything to do with the destruction of the satellite radio? All those questions raced through Stu’s mind and then he sighed. He sure wasn’t going to ask J. Russell. He’d find out when the time came.
The ambassador’s aide frowned as the secretary entered the meeting room and hurried over to his chair. “Mister Kang, there is an urgent message for you,” she whispered in his ear.
Kang made his excuses to the delegation of trade bureaucrats from Poland, then walked swiftly to his office. The encoded message sat on the center of his desk, only the word URGENT readable, the rest in unintelligible seven-letter groups. He unlocked the safe behind his desk and pulled out the one-time pad.
Writing out the letters in long hand, he deciphered the message on a single sheet of paper with a hard plastic board beneath it in order not to leave an impression copy. As the words coalesced into meaning, Kang felt both excited and confused.