“Is it complex? Difficult to disarm?”
Hoxha shook his head. “Not unless it’s been modified. You knew the Soviets. They weren’t big on complexity.”
24
Petty Officer First Class Adam Samir was a US Naval Explosive Ordnance Disposal (EOD) specialist stationed at Naval Air Station North Island (NASNI) in San Diego Bay. He was a second-generation Iraqi American who spoke no Arabic, but that didn’t prevent him from receiving suspicious glances from time to time. He handled it well enough. If he noticed anyone looking at him a little too long or a little too hard in the grocery store, Samir would smile and say, “I’m as American as apple pie and Chevrolet.” His perfect English and good nature were usually enough to put the wary person at ease.
There were two fleet aircraft carriers based permanently out of San Diego Bay: USS Carl Vinson (CVN-70) of Carrier Strike Group One and USS Ronald Reagan (CVN-76) of CSG-7. But NASNI was home to a great deal more than just a pair of carrier strike groups. The complex covered five thousand acres and encompassed more than 130 vital US Naval Commands (ashore, afloat, and airborne), including Naval Special Warfare Group One (SEAL Teams 1, 3, 5, and 7); Naval Special Warfare Group Three (SEAL Delivery Vehicle Teams, or SDVTs, 1 and 2); more than fifteen different helicopter commands, eight attack submarines, and the tenant commands of CSG-3 and CSG-11, built around the carriers USS John C. Stennis (CVN-74) and USS Nimitz (CVN-68), permanently based out of Naval Base Kitsap, Washington, and Naval Station Everett, Washington, respectively. On any given day, there could be up to two hundred aircraft of all types on the island.
All of these assets in one place meant that a tactical nuclear strike on San Diego Bay would be devastating to the combat readiness of the US Pacific Fleet as a whole. This was not at all a comforting prospect in the face of intensifying nuclear ambitions on the part of North Korea, particularly if one paused to consider the North’s increasingly aggressive rhetoric toward South Korea and Japan.
Near the end of his shift, Samir walked into his CO’s office and came to attention. “You wanted to see me, Lieutenant?”
Lieutenant Roy Potts looked up from his desk. “At ease, Adam. I’m afraid I’ve got shitty news for you.”
Though Samir had been expecting this, his heart still sank. “Yes, sir?”
“I’m afraid I have to cancel your honeymoon plans.”
Samir was getting married the next day, and the honeymoon was set for Jamaica.
“It’s not just you,” Potter continued. “All leaves are being canceled, and everybody’s being recalled because of the nuke. The wedding’s tomorrow, correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Why don’t you two stay at the Hotel del Coronado for a few days? I’ll clear you to stay off the base, if you promise to remain on the island and report in once a day.”
Samir smiled. “Thank you, sir. That’ll make things a lot better, sir.”
“I’m sure it will,” Potter said with a chuckle. “If you have any trouble getting a room over there, let me know. The hotel manager owes me a pretty big favor.”
“I will, sir. Thank you again, sir.”
“You’re welcome. Dismissed.”
25
A US government hangar at the Las Vegas airport had been turned over to SEAL Team VI/Black for the duration, and all civilian personnel were ordered to stay away. Air Force MPs ringed the perimeter at one hundred meters. The rest of the eleven-man SEAL team was there waiting for the C-5 upon landing and set about at once unloading the kit, which included all weapons and equipment Gil thought it might conceivably need during the search for the RA-115. He had left virtually nothing to chance, as was made evident when a SEAL everyone called Alpha pried the lid from a crate containing two deflated CRRCs. These were Combat Rubber Raiding Craft manufactured by Zodiac Marine & Pool.
Alpha stood looking at them. “Know something we don’t, Master Chief?”
“I’d better,” Gil remarked offhandedly. “Make sure the men know we’ve got stand-to immediately after the cargo is unloaded. I want everything assembled, loaded, and ready to go to war immediately that it’s needed. Understood?”
“Aye, Chief.”
“Once that’s done, I want everything practical loaded back aboard the aircraft and stowed for immediate access.”
“Aye-aye.”
Gil went forward and up the ladder into the cockpit to speak with the pilots.
“You’ll taxi for refuel yon side of the tarmac between a pair of yellow strobes,” he told them. “You’ll be able to see them when you put the nose assembly back down. When that’s completed, you’ll taxi directly back here to remain on standby for the duration of my mission.” He took a sheaf of folded papers from his back pocket and handed them to the pilot, an air force major who was patiently waiting for Gil to finish so he could remind the navy man exactly who was in command of the aircraft. “These are your orders, Major, signed by the president and giving me tactical command of your aircraft. This supersedes your rank and puts you at my indefinite disposal. Simply stated, Major, this aircraft and its entire crew will go where I say, when I say, and do exactly as I say.”
The major glanced at his copilot and unfolded the orders, flipping to the last page to verify they had been signed by the president. He looked up at Gil and nodded. “I guess this pretty well designates where the bear shits in the woods.”
Gil smiled. “Now that the formalities are out of the way, Major, let’s hope those orders are worth the paper they’re printed on and that this isn’t just a big waste of avgas.”
The pilot decided he liked Gil and returned the smile. “Any idea what our chances are?”
Gil shook his head. “None, but we go until the president says quit.”
“Roger that,” the pilot said. “We’ll be ready when you need us.”
Gil gave him a salute and disappeared back down the ladder.
Two hours later, the equipment was ready and much of it stowed back aboard the Galaxy. The men were assembled in the ready room for mission brief when Gil entered and stood before them dressed in blue jeans, cowboy boots, and a black Under Armour compression shirt.
“Gentlemen,” he said grimly. “It’s good to see you again. I’m sorry the circumstances are what they are.”
“We’re just glad to be back aboard,” Alpha said. He was twenty-nine years old and built like an outside linebacker.
Gil nodded. “About that… I don’t know how this is going to play out. Right now we’re obviously very important, but none of us in this room is exactly popular with the present administration, so I want it understood there are no guarantees about the future.”
“Fuck the present administration,” growled a SEAL named Trigg. “We’re here to do what we were trained to do.”
“Hooyah,” said Gil. “Now let’s establish the pecking order. Anybody got a problem with having a green beanie as second in command?”
Crosswhite cleared his throat. “Uh, Gil, I’d just as soon be a member of the rank and file on this one, if that’s—”
“I didn’t put that question to you, Captain.”
Crosswhite shut up, and Gil stood waiting to see whether any of his SEALs were set to complain. As expected, they were all fine with Crosswhite filling the role of second in command. They had all served under him during Operation Bank Heist, and he had fallen on his sword for them when the mission failed to liberate Warrant Officer Brux, taking the blame along with Master Chief Halligan Steelyard, who was killed weeks later during Brux’s eventual rescue.