The Department of State used that subtle distinction to hold an ace in the hole. Since the end of the Cold War, the highest government officials insisted on maintaining this card up their sleeve in case of an international catastrophe.
Thanks to the impenetrable secrecy, the State Department wasn’t required to inform the Department of Energy of their classified SAPs. Up until now, however, Stanley van Dyckman’s own unacknowledged Valiant Locksmith had created a potential doomsday condition that Rob Harris could not reveal to anyone. His hands were tied, and neither the DOE Inspector General nor his counterpart in the Department of State had the authority to know about the other’s highly classified program.
When the facility transitioned to the DOE, the Velvet Hammer vault override codes must not have been changed. Yet another unintended consequence contributing to this mindless cascade of disasters.…
The only other place where all that knowledge came together was with the President and the Congressional Intelligence Oversight Committee. But a formerly retired site manager had no direct access to the President, and Senator Pulaski — the man responsible for funding Hydra Mountain — had dismissed Harris’s concerns, unable to appreciate the technical details of the risk.
Now, Harris dropped into his seat. He had dreaded exactly this scenario. If he had revealed the existence of Undersecretary Doyle’s program to anyone involved with Valiant Locksmith, Harris would go to jail for the rest of his life. That was why he had pulled strings to get the right people here, to see the hazard with their own eyes. This review had been his only chance to make someone realize the potential disaster of housing these two SAPs together.
Well, they were all fully aware of the danger now.
Now that the stored warheads were exposed to stray neutrons — the levels of which were significantly increased because of all the fuel rods in the pools — the risk of an accidental detonation was no longer vanishingly small. And if the temporary cooling pool ever leaked and the warheads were submerged in water, then the probability of disaster would increase exponentially.
If a single device went critical, sympathetic detonations might trigger them all. Then it would be good-bye, New Mexico. And more.
By sending the review team in there, he may have set his own nightmare scenario in motion.
33
Sickened as the avalanche of sticky foam hardened and crackled inside the vault, spilling out in a massive amorphous blockade, Shawn pounded on the rigid mass. His blows peeled off a few chunks, but not enough to make a difference. The substance was like a petrified cloud jammed in the vault, blocking the heavy door open. He kicked at the shell-like substance, then threw his shoulder against the vault door, uselessly pushing.
Adonia helped, but there was nothing either of them could do. “They’re buried alive in there.” Her voice sounded hoarse and angry. “They probably suffocated.”
Garibaldi stood by the control panel, ashen. “How do we close the vault door? We need to seal off the warheads from the stray radiation here in the grotto. Every minute the door remains open and the cores are exposed is like a game of Russian roulette.”
Adonia knew the older scientist was right. “Hopefully the ambient radiation isn’t significantly higher than normal background levels, especially with all those fuel rods. I’m really worried now.”
Shawn looked in vain at the huge vault door and shook his head. “An emergency response team can clear the sticky foam with solvent sprays and break it up with sharp tools, and then they can close the vault. Until then we’ll have to gamble.”
Garibaldi did not look convinced. “The sticky foam doesn’t have any moderating effect, and it’s way too porous to absorb neutrons. Our only hope right now is that the background level doesn’t increase any more than it has.”
Adonia coughed and felt light-headed. She swayed as she stood, sweating in her damp clothes, and she looked down to see the nebulous soup of halothane curling across the lower floor. Some of the wisps had already reached her ankles. Taking shallow breaths, she worked on the control panel, trying the vault’s emergency closure routines one more time, without success. The hydraulics only hummed and groaned against the hardened sticky foam. “No use.”
Shawn said, “Right now we’ve got bigger problems than closing the vault door. Unless we get to higher ground, we won’t be conscious much longer, and then we can’t warn anybody of the danger. We’ve got to climb as high as we can until the lockdown is lifted.”
“Somebody’s got to survive,” Garibaldi said, sounding more grim than ever before. “Nuclear waste and nuclear weapons don’t play well together. Someone needs to get the word out… and we’ve already lost half our team.”
Adonia felt a pang of sadness as the three of them hurried back up the incline to the main floor. Even though Senator Pulaski’s blundering had caused most of their problems, he hadn’t deserved to die, and neither did Undersecretary Doyle, who had just been trying to protect her SAP and prevent this very thing from happening.
Adonia felt a deeper heaviness at the loss of Stanley van Dyckman, whom she had known for years, even though she often found him maddening. He came across as arrogant and opportunistic, and yet he’d created the Valiant Locksmith program to address an urgent problem, even if it was poorly implemented. Now, what should have been her former boss’s great triumph had morphed into a total disaster.
No, it was not a good day for Hydra Mountain.
“We should get moving before we collapse,” Shawn said, pointing across the cavern. “Climbing the crane is our only good option — unless you have a better suggestion.”
“Better is the enemy of ‘good enough,’” Garibaldi said. “So if it works, don’t try anything better. Let’s do it.”
Adonia realized she would probably succumb first, since she was physically the smallest. As they jogged back toward the center of the grotto, closer to the halothane that curled over the ledge from the high bay above, some of the gas already swirled up to their knees, stirred up as they moved.
“I hope you don’t make me carry you too far if you collapse,” Shawn said to her with a quick, reassuring smile. “Come on, we’ve got some climbing to do.”
She tried to put on a burst of speed, running on bare feet but unable to see debris on the floor. She hurt her sole, but kept running, hoping it wasn’t a bad cut. She swayed, and the dizziness increased. Shawn caught her arm. “Steady — the gas is already affecting you. When we reach the crane, you’re the first one up.”
“As long as you’re both right behind me,” she said, trying to control her heavy breathing. She just hoped she could keep her balance while climbing the open boom. Vertigo at the wrong moment would result in a big splat on the floor below. She shook her head and pushed on toward the giant industrial machine.
They dodged construction material, steel support columns that rose to the ceiling, the trenches, walls, and pouring forms for half-finished concrete pools. The yellow gas stirred as they jogged, causing loops of vapor to rise higher. Coughing and dizzy, Adonia staggered along.
Finally, they reached the huge industrial crane that crouched like some mythical monster: a massive foundation and enormous treads, a high control cab, and the lattice boom that stretched up to the cavern ceiling. Disoriented, barely able to keep her balance, Adonia stared up at the towering structure she would have to climb.
34
When the sirens and warnings started blaring in the Velvet Hammer vault, Stanley van Dyckman was already well inside the chamber. He panicked, reacting instead of thinking.