Chilgers nodded reflectively, a faint smile drawn over his lips. “You’re talking about an army with the boy’s powers.”
“It’s possible….”
“An army that could turn an enemy’s mind against itself; could assassinate, terrorize, execute, infiltrate, destroy without use of guns or bombs.” His eyes sharpened and met Teke’s. “Doctor you could be talking about a weapon far more advanced than Vortex. Destroying our enemies entirely from the inside. Making them turn their missiles on themselves, kill their own leaders, pass their greatest secrets on to us. Why a single Davey Phelps in the Kremlin could—” Chilgers stopped suddenly. “Wait, by your own admission this power is killing the boy. Our agents wouldn’t exactly have very long, effective life spans.”
“Not necessarily,” said Teke. “Once we learn the roots of the boy’s cellular dysfunction, we should be able to take steps to compensate. Keep in mind that everything which has happened to Davey Phelps was sudden and unexpected. Our subjects would be under total control. Their power could be refined, developed, nurtured. Drugs might be used to diminish or neutralize the potential adverse side effects. You’d have your army, Colonel, for as long as you needed them.”
Chilgers’ smile broke free. “And to think that even you, Teke, urged against the tangent phase of Vortex, against Flight 22. You told me there was nothing to gain from it at this stage, that we’d be risking too much. There are always risks, Doctor, but in this case they were well worth it. I’m stepping up the Vortex schema slightly. The bombs will be on their way in twenty-four hours.” Chilgers rose and moved from the desk, clasping his hands behind his back. “Yes, twenty-four hours from now the balance of power will tilt almost totally in our direction. But for how long, Teke? How long will it last? There will always be enemies, rising forces which challenge our own. The power of this country must remain supreme and unchallenged. Yes, there were risks involved in Flight 22 but the gains more than justify them as I always felt they would. An army with the power of Davey Phelps would eliminate the need for bombs and overtly aggressive tactics. Our approach could be subtle while at the same time becoming infinitely more effective.”
“Isolating and testing the precise factors involved might take considerable time,” Teke warned.
“Years, Doctor? A decade perhaps? Vortex took an entire generation to bring to the eve of activation but my commitment never wavered. Even through the failures and disappointments I refused to give up because I knew we were on the verge of something fantastic, just as I know we’re on the verge now of something even more fantastic. My entire career at COBRA has been dedicated to creating a totally secure America. Not just from bombs and missiles, but from oil shortages, embargoes and the threats that go with them. In twenty-four hours, Russia will be devastated and the first half of my goal will be virtually complete. Following through on your present plan successfully will complete the second half. Vortex will buy us the time we need. America’s voice will emerge as the only voice. The word foreign will cease to exist. It will all be ours, the entire world.” Chilgers gazed across at the wall, imagining the coming shape of what lay beyond it.
Teke cleared his throat. “We’re getting ahead of ourselves here, Colonel. Beyond Vortex, everything depends on the boy’s brain. And removing it, not to mention sustaining its vital existence apart from the body, is no easy task. I’ve taken the liberty of sending for a team of expert brain and neurosurgeons, tops in their fields and all security cleared, who will be arriving at various times tomorrow. But still there are no guarantees. Success rates in all types of brain operations have never been very high, never mind the type we’ll be attempting.”
“Make it work, Teke. Whatever it takes, make it work.”
“Time is the key element. Every moment we wait, every moment we allow the boy’s condition to worsen in the slightest, reduces our chances for success.”
“There’s no way you could perform the operation immediately with base personnel?”
“Not within an acceptable level of risk.”
“Then I suppose we have to wait. How long did you say it’ll be before you can begin?”
“Close to twenty-four hours when you consider briefing the team on exactly what has to be done and developing a strategy for the operation.”
“Twenty-four hours, then.” And that brought another smile to the colonel’s face. “The missiles might just be heading on their way as you start, Doctor. Fitting, I suppose. The world is going to be a vastly different place when we wake up two mornings from now.” Chilgers paused. “And we might not even recognize it.”
The Last Day:
The Winter Man
Chapter Thirty-five
“It ain’t right, Cap. All diddley shit, if you ask me.”
Maj. Christian Teare eyed Heath from the double-mattressed bunk bed in his private quarters. Night had fallen in the world beyond. Bunker 17’s Yellow Flag alert now stretched into its third day.
“Everything checks out,” Heath offered.
Teare frowned, unsatisfied, curling his fingers through his beard. “This thing’s gonna burst soon and I got an ache in my gut that tells me the spill’s all wrong. The timin’ of that MX shipment’s delivery still bothers the hell outta me.”
“If Red Flag’s coming, they’d want those missiles to be the first out of the gate.”
“Well, Cap, I’d be obliged if somebody would tell me just who ‘they’ are.”
“Major?”
“I mean, we always talk about ‘they’ this and ‘they’ that but who are ‘they’? All we rightly know is that they got a master computer somewhere that fucks ours with a cable when we go into alert status.”
“Somewhere in Washington …”
“Yeah, Cap, tell me all about it. ’Cept then I’d like ya to tell me why we can’t even confirm that much during Yellow Flag.
“That’s the system.”
“Then the system blows horse cock. We got thirty-six MX missiles sittin’ in our silos, and the only thing between us and a launch is a coded sequence on the board in Com-center. Back in Surry Gulch we used to say that manure stinks the least when you’re standin’ knee-deep in it.”
“So?” Heath posed tentatively.
Teare pushed himself up from the bed and stretched. “So, Cap, you’re a communications expert. I want you to spend some time in the computer communications room. I want all incomings monitored. I want to know where the fuck they’re originating from.”
“That’ll take an awful lot of rewiring. Folks in Washington won’t be too pleased.”
“Tough shit.”
“It’ll still take time to pin the transmission down once it comes in.” Heath hesitated. “What happens if it doesn’t come from Washington or NORAD in Colorado?”
“Then they can stick their Yellow Flag up their ass.”
“That’s COBRA,” Bane said, handing the binoculars to King Cong.
They sat hidden in a grove of trees on a hill overlooking the complex. It was four P.M. San Diego time and it had taken a full sixteen sleepless hours to arrive here after obtaining some necessary equipment.