Abrams took his finger off the picture, then glanced at Katherine.
Van Dorn stood slowly and rubbed his heavy jowls. He looked at Katherine and saw that she knew and believed it. He turned back to Abrams and nodded several times before the words came out. “Yes… Yes, by God.” He reached out and took Abrams’ Scotch from the desk and swallowed it in two gulps. He sat back in his seat.
Abrams watched Van Dorn closely as his face went from pale to its normal florid color again. Abrams said, “There’s more. But I’m not going on until I get some answers.”
Van Dorn stood again. “Look, Abrams, I’m most appreciative, but it’s not my policy to confide in field agents.”
“Well, it’s not my policy to be one. I did a favor for a man I respect. I discovered something of immediate concern. I want to tell you what it is, but I want you first to tell me why I risked my life.”
Van Dorn hesitated.
Katherine said, “George, I’d like to know what the hell is going on!” She came toward him. “My father is next door, for God’s sake. People are dead—”
Van Dorn held up his hand and lowered his head in thought, then said, “All right, I’ll tell you.”
Abrams said, “Please tell it fast. I don’t think there’s much time left.”
Van Dorn stared at him, then said, “I know. It’s very close. A matter of days or weeks—”
“No. A matter of hours.”
“What?”
“Is there anyone in the government or military you can call?”
Van Dorn nodded slowly. “Hours? How do you know?” He stared at Abrams, then said, “Understand, Abrams, that I can’t just cry wolf — a full alert cost tens of millions of dollars… I won’t make a fool of myself. I need something other than the fact that you saw Henry Kimberly. I need something that will point to a final countdown. You tell me something like that, Abrams, and I’ll call… and then I’ll tell you what this is about.”
Abrams replied, “Okay, here’s what sounds to me like a final countdown: The basement of your neighbor’s house is full of Russians, and they’re not there to change the fuse.”
Van Dorn shot a quick look at Katherine, then came quickly around the desk. “Are you certain? Abrams, did you see them?”
Abrams shook his head. “No, I didn’t see them. A little girl told me. A big girl confirmed it.” He explained briefly.
When Abrams had finished, Van Dorn stayed motionless and silent, his head bowed. Abrams could see he was shaken. And why shouldn’t he be? thought Abrams. He has just heard what amounts to an air raid siren.
Van Dorn reached for the telephone on his desk and dialed. He spoke into the receiver: “This is George Van Dorn. Identification phrase, ‘We went through fire and through water.’ Let me speak to Pegasus, please.” Van Dorn waited, then said, “Well, locate him and have him call me at home. Condition Omega. Yes.” He hung up and glanced at his watch. “Pegasus will never be more than ten minutes from a message.”
Abrams wondered who Pegasus was and where he was, but knew better than to ask. He said, “O’Brien once indicated to me that the threat is not nuclear war, and may not be chemical or biological either. That rules out three modern Horsemen of the Apocalypse, and ought to be a comforting thought. But knowing the capacity we have of developing new ways to destroy ourselves, somehow I’m not comforted.”
Van Dorn nodded. “There is a fourth horseman.” He took a cigar and bit off the tip. “Have either of you heard of EMP — electromagnetic pulse?”
Abrams nodded cautiously. “Some journalists call it the Doomsday Pulse.”
Katherine added, “It has something to do with a nuclear explosion in space.”
Van Dorn replied, “Yes, it does. But the threat itself is not nuclear. Those people hiding in the basement next door are hiding from us, not the nuclear blast. The blast, when it comes, if it comes, will be somewhere over Omaha at an HOB — height of burst — of about three hundred miles. There will be no mushroom cloud, no shock waves, no heat, no radiation, and none of the physical destruction associated with a thermonuclear detonation. There will only be a flash of light in the sky, then…”
“Then what?” asked Katherine.
“Then, to paraphrase Lord Grey, the lights will go out all over North America. And I don’t think we will see them lit again in our lifetime.”
No one spoke for some time, then Abrams said, “Is this some sort of electrical phenomenon? Like a lightning storm?”
Van Dorn nodded. “Yes. It’s very complex; a bit of technological arcana, first discovered in the early 1960s during our last high-altitude nuclear tests. Discovered, unfortunately, by the Russians at about the same time.”
Van Dorn lit his cigar, then said, “What apparently happens is this: When a nuclear device is exploded high above the atmosphere, earthbound gamma rays released from the explosion hit air molecules and create something called Compton electrons. Those electrons undergo a turning motion around the earth’s magnetic field lines and emit an electromagnetic pulse. Every electrical and electronic device in the country, including that digital watch you’re wearing, Abrams, will act as a lightning rod for this pulse. There will be virtually nothing left that works, including nuclear power plants, jet engines, auto and truck engines, diesels and home furnaces.” Van Dorn paused, then said, “It’s difficult, isn’t it, to even imagine the magnitude of the catastrophe.” He looked at his telephone, as though underscoring the point.
No one said anything, then Abrams spoke softly. “I assume there’s some protection against this?”
Van Dorn replied, “Our friends next door apparently tested their EMP protection devices with lightning, and I suppose the bastards think they’re fairly well covered. However, no one will know for sure unless there’s an actual EMP storm.”
Katherine asked, “What about the military?”
Van Dorn replied, “They’ve belatedly identified the danger, but what they’ve done to harden the vital systems is too little and too late. Only one of the four presidential flying command posts, for instance, is EMP-proof.”
Van Dorn ran his finger through the gold scrapings on his desk. “This, by the way, conducts the EMP and keeps it from passing through the spaces around the windows and doors.”
Abrams thought, The scientific equivalent of garlic or wolfbane. He said, “And vacuum tubes?”
Van Dorn drew on his cigar. “That’s another irony. The old-type vacuum tubes are about ten million times more resistant to EMP than the fragile integrated solid state circuits that have replaced them.”
Van Dorn paused thoughtfully, then said, “The Soviets may not have learned about EMP before we did, but they damned sure acted on it sooner. Do you remember the Russian Foxbat, the MiG-25 that was flown to Japan in 1976 by a Russian defector? It was thought to be the world’s most advanced fighter plane. American technicians took it apart and found most of the aircraft was state-of-the-art technology. But the electronics closest to the fuselage skin were based on vacuum tubes. At first the American technicians were amazed at such primitive electronics. But as they dug deeper down into the aircraft, they discovered that the Soviets indeed possessed advanced solid-state technology. So why the vacuum tubes? Well, now we know. The electronics closest to the exterior of the aircraft that would pick up the EMP were purposely dependent on vacuum tubes. This was the first hard evidence we had that they took EMP seriously. The Israelis made similar findings on captured Russian-made equipment. We should assume that most of the Soviet arsenal is designed with EMP in mind.”