B004V9FYIY EBOK Read online

  “Jim! Get your ass in here,” the President said with some visible relief on his face. “I hope to God you have some information on all this.”

  Butler smiled at his boss. They had hit it off almost immediately and even shared an interest in fishing and basketball. Butler couldn’t have cared less for the political job, but he liked the guy and would do anything to help out. Butler also didn’t care about promotion or sucking up to the admirals in the Pentagon. So he just did his job and let the chips fall. At least this President was a good one.

  Butler stepped into the office and walked up to the desk. “Mister President, I think we’re in a shooting war. Too bad we don’t know who’s shooting at us,” he said.

  The President looked puzzled. “You mean we have no clue?” When the realization struck him he threw down the pencil and sat back in his seat, disgusted.

  Captain Butler shook his head. “Not a one, sir. I had just come on watch when it started. Just before I put out the alert we saw multiple launches from about 50 miles off both coasts. Looked just like submarine launched ballistic missiles, but there’s only one thing wrong. Nobody has that many, sir.”

  “What do you mean they don’t have that many?”

  “Just that. The Russians have only two missile subs at sea, the Brits have about four, the French, one. On the other side of the world, the Chinese have three of those kinds of boats, but they’re in port. No one else has any worth mentioning,” he briefed. “There’s nothing on the threat board right now, yet we counted over thirty missiles coming in from each of five launch points. That’s more missiles than a Trident carries, so that leaves us with a big goose egg for information,” he said a little disgusted and frustrated himself. “I guess whoever it was could have multiple boats launching from the same point, but like I said nobody’s got that many underway,” he said almost with a sigh. “I wish I could tell you more boss, but they dragged me down here right after you. I’ve been trying to get hold of anyone I could but … nothing. My fear is the bombs have dropped and no one is up there to answer, sir. Even the direct lines to the Pentagon and NORAD are dead.”

  The President shook his head as if to wake up from a bad dream. “Shit,” he said in disgust. “So now we sit it out a few weeks before trying to pick things up. By then, our country will be practically dead.”

  Butler nodded. “Whoever thought of this did a good job. We didn’t have any time to react,” he said, “and we don’t know who to react to.”

  The President could tell Butler was pissed off. He could tell it in his voice and the way Butler’s eyes seemed to flash when he spoke. The man didn’t know – and he told him he didn’t know. Not knowing made it worse. The President motioned to a chair.

  “Sit down, Jim. It’s just us for now and I know we’ll work something out in all this.”

  Butler appeared to sag a little. The black and gold shoulder boards inched downward slightly and he eased himself into the wooden chair in front of the President’s desk.

  “What do you think happened to our phones and the other comms?” the President asked.

  Butler grunted, “You can blame your esteemed predecessor. You remember all the changes he ordered early in his term?”

  “Sure.”

  “Well, he said the military should not have anything better than what the general population had in its operations. He said it would save lots of money. When Bob Nichols over at Systems Command tried to remind the President about the problems in a nuclear confrontation, he got laughed out of his office. Bob told me the President said nuclear war was a thing of the past,” Butler almost spat. “Now we’ve got one and the EMP knocked out everything electronic including our off-the-shelf phone system.”

  “I thought the lines between here and the Pentagon were dedicated lines buried deep,” the President said.

  “Oh the lines are deep, but they bought a civilian phone system. They replaced the equipment at NORAD at about the same time. Hell, even I said something when it was installed on this end. But who listens to a captain when a truck load of admirals is giving orders.”

  The President looked at his desk and the old equipment there. “Well, don’t feel bad, look what I’m stuck with.”

  Butler chuckled. “At least that will work. The electromagnetic pulse doesn’t bother that old stuff in the least. It only goes after the high tech gizmos,” he said.

  The President sighed. “So what do we do?”

  Butler looked up at the President and straightened up a little. “About the only thing we can do for now is to sit tight and wait till the initial effects are over. I got guys trying to reestablish comms now. In a couple of hours, we might try and go topside and see how bad it really is. A lot depends on the radiation levels and how much is still standing. Our forces have probably already put themselves on high alert. I know what the plans are in a case like this. Everyone protects our shorelines and our interests until the command structure comes back online. Local commanders are in charge for now. As far as the rockets go, they are grounded until someone with authority puts out the word. Since we don’t know who did it, they are probably sitting safe and snug in their shelters deep underground,” he said almost from memory. “So Boss, it looks like it’s just you and me until we get more word.”

  The sound of the telephone ringing caused the President and Butler to nearly jump from their seats. The “hotline,” actually several direct telephone lines between the White House and other world leaders, had originally been set up for direct talks to forestall a nuclear war. In some cases a translator was included on the line to make sure there were no misinterpretations. In this case the telephone from the United Kingdom was ringing and no translator was needed. The president lifted the receiver.

  “Good evening, Mister President. This is Prime Minister Nicholson calling,” said the voice through the headset.

  “Mister Prime Minister, you have no idea how good it is to hear your voice,” the President answered. The relief in his voice was obvious. A slight chuckle came from the other end.

  “I dare say. We have monitored the wanton attack against your nation, and I have called to offer the complete support of the United Kingdom to assist you in any way we can,” he said earnestly. “I have been asked by His Majesty to relay his personal shock and support.”

  “Thank you, Prime Minister. There is no doubt in my mind of your support and your kindness. Please pass along the appreciation of my nation to His Majesty.”

  “I am happy to do so. I take it you are in a shelter of some kind?” the Prime Minister asked.

  “Yes, Prime Minister, we are waiting out the effects of the blasts. Unfortunately, I have no way of knowing the extent of the damage to my nation since all my communications except for this one seem to have been disrupted for the present.”

  “My ministers have informed me this might be the case. I have with me my Minister of Defense and First Sea Lord. If you like, I will conference us all together to give you as much information as we currently have.”

  Captain Butler jumped from his seat and hurried to the door. “Get hold of some stenographers and my staff and get them here right now!” he anxiously whispered to the agent guarding the hallway. The agent nodded and picked up a telephone as the Captain returned to his seat.

  “We are getting a few people here to take it all down. I have my naval attaché here at present. Captain Jim Butler has my complete confidence. I believe he met your Defense Minister and First Sea Lord last month at our summit.” The president motioned to the little box on his desk that made it a speakerphone. The box was pushed and the regular receiver returned to its cradle.

  “Good evening Prime Minister, ministers,” Butler said a little anxiously. He had never really cared for politics or speaking to political animals, but at least two of these men he had met and they were military types like himself.

  “Glad you are there, Captain Butler, good to have our navies well represented.” It was the voice of the First Sea Lord. They had instantly
liked each other when they met at a reception just the month before. It resulted in an invitation to the First Sea Lord’s manor just outside London and a discovery that both enjoyed, among other things, an evening playing poker. When the bombs had gone off, Butler had been the first person he had thought of.

  “Thanks, sir. I hope you can shed some light on all this.” Butler briefed on what he knew. By the time he finished, the small office was filled with people, paper in hand, taking down every word. Two stenographers were there to complete the process.

  “I believe we can add a little more,” said the Defense Minister. “It seems that the weapons were set to explode between altitudes of 75 to 100 miles. Except for two of them, they were within that range. There were two ground explosions on the cities of Memphis, Tennessee, and Dallas, Texas. The other cities were….” He began listing all of the cities where an explosion occurred and the number of devices used if more than one had been targeted in one place. But Captain Butler reacted after the information about the altitude. He quickly stepped from the room and grabbed one of the Secret Service agents.

  “Come on, slick, let’s get topside,” he said taking the man by the arm.

  “But sir, what about the damage – or the radiation,” the man stammered. It was clear he didn’t have any problem taking a bullet for the President, but the idea of turning bright green from radiation exposure was something else.

  Butler smiled at the man. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you,” he winked. “But if it’s what I think, there won’t be either damage or radiation.” He stopped at a closet outside the elevator. Inside he grabbed a small instrument and flipped a switch. Luckily, the activation light came on. Then both men entered the elevator and pressed the button to ascend.

  When the elevator approached the top both men held their breath. The door opened to the lower level of the White House. Several people were using it as a shelter. Everyone began talking at once. Butler motioned for them to keep quiet.

  “Just wait here. I’ll be right back,” he told them, as he rushed to the stairs. Two flights later he entered the main reception area of the White House. A few more steps and he was standing under the portico looking out over Washington. There were no cars moving, and it seemed a peaceful night.

  EMP. They used the EMP, he thought.

  The agent appeared beside him. There was a bewildered look on his face. “But there was no explosion,” the agent slowly said.

  One of the security guards ambled over. “You missed all the fireworks Captain,” he said with a grin. “Just a while ago the whole sky lit up. We even heard the rumble and felt a little heat.” Then the man got quite serious. “Captain, are we dead?”

  Captain Butler turned on the Geiger counter and held it out. There was nothing except for the usual readings. He ran it over the guard’s clothes. Again there was no change. “Well Jack,” he said reading the name from the guard’s badge, “I don’t know what initial radiation you might have picked up, but from what I’m seeing, you’ll live to be 100,” he said, a slow smile widening on his face.

  The guard extended his hand and Butler took it. “Makes me feel a lot better, Captain.” There was a look of relief on his face.

  “Hang tight out here. We will probably be getting a lot of people coming to the White House tonight,” Butler said.

  “I figured so after that,” the guard said pointing toward the sky. “I was on a carrier back in ’84 so I have a feelin’ you guys are up to your asses in alligators right now. Cabinet and Pentagon types?” he asked.

  “That’s it. Be a little while since the phones are out, but just be ready.”

  “I’ll pass the word.” The guard said turning with a wave and heading toward the guardhouse near the street.

  Butler looked at the Secret Service agent. He was nervous and still confused. “In answer to your question, there has been a nuclear explosion, just not the kind we all thought.” He shook his head in disgust. It was perfect, he thought. They knocked us out without killing everyone. Brilliant. He looked at the agent again. “We need to find out what’s working. Get some people down in the underground garage and see what vehicles will start. Then get them up here to run messages to all the offices. I’m going back down,” he said to the agent as he went back into the White House.

  Atlantic Ocean, Off the Coast of North Carolina

  Captain Tien Sohn was staring into the face of death. More precisely, into the barrel of a Russian made pistol aimed directly between his eyes. His political officer – an obnoxious, arrogant toad who made his life miserable – was holding the pistol. He recently replaced Sanh Fing, the political officer who had been aboard for the past ten years. Fing had become a good friend and loyal ally. The crew learned to respect the man and to listen to his political teachings, simply because he made the politics make sense. On several occasions Fing stepped in on behalf of the crew when something from the central government or local leaders caused problems. Fing had common sense and could explain why changes in political decisions were necessary. The crew missed the man.

  The new political officer insisted on being called Comrade Lieu. He had never been on a ship before and worked his way up from smaller provinces and a lot of bureaucracy. He expected instant obedience. The pistol he held didn’t move and the smile on Lieu’s face was frightening.

  From the very beginning the captain had his suspicions about his orders. First was the decision to load the ship in secret with containers carrying cargo he and his crew were not allowed to inspect or to even go near. Every inquiry was met with the answer, “It is a matter of state security.” Then there was a special set of containers joined side by side with a sort of corridor and special bracing. They had been placed at the aft end of the cargo hold and connected to the ship’s electric supply. The containers had a crew of 12 that kept inside the thing. Occasionally he would see someone open an upper hatch and stand on top to smoke or get some air. Despite a storm while transiting the Straights of Magellan, they seemed to have come through with no casualties. Again, the crew had not been allowed to have contact with the men.

  His orders had been to sail his ship to a specific latitude and longitude and remain there until told otherwise. The ship had arrived two days before and had been cruising in circles ever since. Upon arrival, Lieu ordered the men to remain in their quarters except to stand their watch or to eat. There had been a flurry of activity as the crew in the containers moved around the ship, going in and out of the other containers and doing whatever task they were told. That ended just 30 minutes before as Sohn saw first one flame and then another engulfed the cargo areas. The missiles had cracked through the flimsy fake coverings of the containers and risen into the night sky. The noise and flames lasted for over seven minutes. The captain had been sitting in his chair reading messages when it started and he ducked under the sill as the flames licked at the bridge. From there, he watched helplessly as the missiles lifted off.

  When the last missile left, Sohn raced to sound the emergency alarm, then bounded to the main deck to see what damage the missiles had caused. The paint was burning in a number of places on what was left of the containers and the inside of the cargo areas. In some cases, the flimsy materials used to make the containers had begun to burn. Fortunately the interior walls of the holds were mostly rust. As the crewmen assembled, he directed their firefighting efforts, quickly attacking the flames.

  He needn’t have bothered. The force of the missile exhaust sprang rivets, split welds and in places melted the steel in the ship’s hull. Water was quickly filling the hold. Normally, the empty containers would have provided some buoyancy, but these now had neither bottom nor top. Captain Sohn returned to the bridge to get the engineers to put the pumps on full, but there was no response from the engine room crew. He watched in horror as hoses held by the men fighting the fires went slack as the water pressure slowly went away. Despite all his calls and efforts, the water remained off. The crew was forced to stand helpless and watch the fires smolder
and burn.

  It was the noise of hollow thumping that had gotten the Captain’s attention. It had started on one side of the ship. When the captain arrived, he could see one of the lifeboats with holes knocked neatly into the bottom. Rushing to the opposite side, he saw the political officer slamming an axe into the bottom of the remaining lifeboat with all the strength he had. Just as quickly as the captain realized what was happening, the axe dropped to the deck and Lieu produced the pistol. The captain backed into the pilothouse as Lieu followed, stopping at the doorway.

  “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” Sohn demanded; his hands in the air.

  Lieu continued his evil smile. “The State does not wish to have any witnesses to what it has done,” he said slowly. “This ship will sink, and I will make sure no one else is left,” he said.

  “My crew is to die at your whim?” The captain almost shouted. The full realization hit him like a brick. His country had started a war and they were the first pawns to be sacrificed.

  “Your crew, comrade captain? These men and this ship belong to the state. You will make the ultimate sacrifice for that State!” he screamed. “I have already taken care of the engineers. The rest will soon join them!”

  Captain Sohn watched as the pistol steadied again after Mister Lieu’s ranting. He was sure it was the last thing he would ever see. Something moving caught his eyes behind Lieu. Just as he tensed to squeeze the trigger, an axe appeared above Lieu’s head. Sohn watched as it came down and cleaved completely through the political officers skull coming to rest in the middle of his chest. Lieu’s lifeless body slumped and crumpled to the deck, surrounded by an ever-widening pool of blood.

  Chief Engineer Hahn let go of the axe and stood resolutely at the door, staring at his handiwork.“Pig!” he spat.

  Hahn stepped over the lifeless form to report to the captain. “He shot up most of my men before I was able to get a few out. The fire systems are back on now, but unless I’m mistaken, our ship won’t survive,” he said.