“That’s good news,” I said. But this really wasn’t about our Mideast friends. I asked him once again, “Has anyone-in the past-ever tried to send a bogus signal to our submarine fleet?”
“I’ve heard a rumor to that effect.”
“When? How? What happened?”
“Well… if you can believe this rumor, about fifteen years ago, our nuclear sub fleet was receiving encoded ELF messages, but the onboard submarine computers weren’t able to verify the legitimacy of the encoded messages, so they were rejected.” He continued, “And when the sub commanders contacted naval operations in Pearl Harbor and Norfolk by other means, they were informed that no such messages had been sent by them via Wisconsin-Michigan hadn’t been built yet.” He stayed quiet for a few seconds, then added, “It appeared that some… entity was sending bogus messages, but the safeguards worked, and none of the subs took action based on those messages.”
I asked, “What action? What did the messages say?”
“Launch.”
The room was quiet for a while, then Kate asked, “Could it have been the Russians sending those messages?”
“No. First, the Russians didn’t even have ELF transmitting capabilities until about 1990, and even if they did, there was no logical reason for them to order U.S. subs to launch against the U.S.S.R.”
I agreed with that and asked, “So, who was it?”
He replied, “Look, this could be one of those apocryphal Cold War stories that submariners or communication personnel make up to impress their girlfriends or their bar friends.”
“Right,” I agreed. “That story’s worth a big hug or a free beer. But it could also be true.”
“Could be.”
“So,” I said, “apparently we have the ELF transmitter count wrong. I’m counting four now.”
He stayed silent awhile, then replied, “Actually, about fifteen or sixteen years ago, there was only one ELF station in the world-ours in Wisconsin. As I said, Michigan hadn’t been built yet, and neither had Zevs. That’s why I think this story has no basis. Who would build and operate an ELF transmitter with the purpose of starting a nuclear war?”
I thought maybe my crazy ex-father-in-law would do that, but he was too cheap to spend the bucks. So I suggested, “The Chinese? You know, telling us to launch against the Russkies, then sitting back and watching us destroy each other.”
“Well, that’s possible. But if they got caught at it, I wouldn’t be surprised if the Russians and Americans agreed to nuke them for that. That is a very dangerous game to play.”
It was, and if you were a country with skin in the game, like China or Russia, you’d think twice about it. But if you were a rich, private, and crazy individual sitting in the mountains, you might want to amuse yourself with an ELF transmitter. I pointed out to Commander Nasseff, “You said these ELF waves could be monitored, so I assume the transmission source can also be located.”
“That is a good assumption. But the truth is no. Remember, the Earth itself has become the antenna, so the signals seem to emanate from all around you.”
“Like a cosmic message?”
“Well… it would be more like the ground shaking because of an earthquake. The signal would seem to be coming from everywhere.”
“So there’s no way to trace the origin of an ELF signal?”
“Not in the sense that you’re thinking of. But ELF receivers could get a general idea of where the transmission source was by comparing the effective radiated power that they were receiving at their site. Like all energy sources, the farther away from the origin you are, the weaker the signal becomes. That’s how we learned about the Russian Zevs transmitter-we suspected that the Russians had an ELF transmitter to signal their submarines, so we put a receiving station in Greenland, and this station received strong signals. After a while, we were able to home in on its general location in the Kola Peninsula, and spy satellites confirmed. But that was only because the Russians happened to be transmitting continuously while we hunted for the signal source.”
I thought about that, then asked, “Was the Navy ever able to figure out where those bogus launch signals were coming from?”
“I have no idea. Although I would suspect not, or everyone involved in naval communication would have heard about it, officially or unofficially. I never heard about it.” He reminded me, “But again, these bogus transmissions may never have occurred.”
Well, I thought they had, and I suspected that Commander Nasseff thought so, too. I also thought I knew the source.
He switched to a happier thought. “Well, thank God the Cold War is over.”
“You can say that again.”
But he didn’t. “Anything else?” he asked.
I thought of Mikhail Putyov. “Would a nuclear physicist be at all involved in extremely low frequency technology?”
“Not at all. He’d probably know less about it than you do.”
“Hey, I’m an expert now. No one’s going to try to sell me an ELF wave oven.”
“Why,” asked Commander Nasseff, ignoring my joke, “would ELF concern the Mideast Section of the Anti-Terrorist Task Force?”
Kate and I exchanged glances, and she wrote on my pad, “You’re the bullshitter.”
Thanks, Kate. I replied to Commander Nasseff, “Well, as it turns out, based on what you’ve told us, we may be… well, on the wrong wavelength.” I chuckled for effect and explained, “We’re actually working on a case involving this environmental terrorist group called the Earth Liberation Front. ELF. Wrong ELF. Sorry.”
Officer and gentleman that he was, Commander Nasseff didn’t dignify that bullshit with a response.
Kate, who knows how not to ask a question that tips off the person being questioned, said to Nasseff, “John, I’m looking at my notes, and I think you said that the only suitable U.S. location for an ELF antenna and transmitter is this geological area in Wisconsin and Michigan called the Laurentian Shield. Do I have that right?”
He could have been snotty and asked what that had to do with the Earth Liberation Front, but he answered, “I think that’s right… Hold on… here’s another place in the U.S. where you can locate an ELF transmitter.”
Neither Kate nor I asked where, but John Nasseff informed us, “You’re actually standing on it.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
We sat on the enclosed porch, which was warmed by the sun coming in the big windows. Outside, leaves fell, ducks swam on the pond, and fat Canada geese waddled across the lawn without their passports.
We were lost in our own thoughts, which were probably similar. Finally, Kate said, “Madox has a big electrical generator, and an ELF antenna on his property, and he probably has a transmitter somewhere in his lodge. Maybe his fallout shelter…”
I tried to lighten the moment. “So, you think Madox is exploring for oil?”
She wasn’t in the mood for my humor and asked, “Do we think Madox was the person who sent those ELF transmissions to the submarine fleet fifteen years ago?”
“We do.”
“But why?”
“Let me think. Hey, he was trying to start a thermonuclear war.”
“Yes, I understand that. But why?”
“I guess he was just rolling the dice, crossing his fingers, and hoping for a happy ending.”
“That’s insane.”
“Right. But he didn’t think so.” I said to her, “You may be too young to remember, but there were people in this country in those days-Mr. Madox, I’m sure, among them-who wanted to push the button first and get it over with. They truly believed that the Soviets would be caught napping, and that Soviet technology and weapons systems were faulty, and that we could survive whatever they threw back at us.” I added, “Radioactive fallout is overrated.”
“Totally insane.”
“Well, fortunately, we’ll never know.” I thought a moment and said, “Madox obviously had some inside information about military ELF codes and decided to use it. The technology to build the transmitter and antenna, as we heard, is not secret, and at some point, about twenty years ago, Madox knew he needed the right piece of real estate, and before you know it, he’s shopping for land in the Adirondack Mountains.” I added, “Best investment he ever made.”