Cyndi and Lance ignored her snide comment and sprinted across the lobby.
“You need an appointment!” the woman yelled out in vain.
A security policeman stood at the entrance to the hallway. He wore a ceremonial uniform with a sash across his chest made of braided golden cord, a chartreuse wool beret canted off to one side, and patent leather shoes polished to a blinding sheen. He’d heard the encounter with the receptionist and moved to block off the hallway.
“You heard the lady, no one sees the general without an appointment,” the guard barked, his hand held out like a stop sign.
At this point in their astonishingly bad day, neither missileer felt like wasting their time getting in a debate with a self-important guard whose most hazardous duty was to defend a hallway.
“You want to take this one, Lieutenant Garcia?” Cyndi asked. “I’m not in the mood to argue with a toy soldier.”
Lance looked the guard up and down. “I don’t know. Anybody who can get their shoes that shiny is probably pretty tough. Let’s flip a coin. Loser has to kick his ass.”
Cyndi patted the sides of her flight suit and then looked up. “Do you happen to have a quarter?” she asked the bewildered guard.
He puffed out his chest. “I was raised to not hit girls. But if you don’t leave right now, I’ll make an exception.” The guard gave a dismissive flick of his wrist. “And take your smartass boyfriend with you.”
“We don’t have time for this,” Cyndi said curtly. She turned to Lance. “We’re a crew. We’ll handle it together.” She held out her hand. “Deal?”
“Deal,” Lance said, while shaking Cyndi’s hand.
In seconds, the guard lay unconscious on the floor after getting an unwelcomed introduction to their martial arts skills.
Chapter Forty-Six
They stepped over the man’s limp body and ran to the end of the hall. Cyndi and Lance burst into the outer office.
“Where is General McNeil?” Cyndi shouted. “We have to talk to him right away. It’s a matter of life and death.”
Startled by their tattered appearance and sudden intrusion, Lola Crawford jumped up from her desk. “Who do you think you are busting in here like this? Get out of the general’s office right now!”
Cyndi stepped up to her desk. “You don’t understand,” she pleaded. “We have to see the general. A missile—”
“Miss Crawford, what the hell is going on out there?” McNeil’s voice boomed over the intercom box.
She pushed a switch on the intercom. “I have no idea. These two lunatics came busting into the office demanding to see you.”
“Go to the lobby and get my guard,” McNeil ordered.
“Yes, sir.” Crawford dashed out the door, slamming it closed behind her.
The door to McNeil’s inner office banged open. The diminutive man stomped out of his office like an angry rooster spoiling for a fight. He yanked the cigar from his mouth. “How dare you interrupt me like this. Who do you think you are?”
Cyndi spun around and faced the general.
He stopped in his tracks with his jaw hanging slack. Brigadier General Arthur McNeil looked as if he’d seen a ghost.
Chapter Forty-Seven
“Thank goodness we finally reached you. Sir, I’m Capt. Cyndi Stafford, the crew commander from site Alpha One.”
“Aren’t you the one who called me? Said there was an emergency?”
“Yes, sir.”
McNeil’s eyes darted to the door leading out of his office. Beads of sweat formed on his upper lip. “What the hell are you doing here? I ordered you to defend the site.”
“Yes, sir, you did. But—”
“You abandoned a nuclear missile and its launch control center that was under attack by a madman?” McNeil looked like he was about to stroke at any moment.
Lance stepped forward. “If you’d just let us explain, sir. We didn’t have any other—”
“Who the hell are you?”
“Garcia, sir. Lieutenant Garcia. I’m her deputy.”
“Please, sir, I’ll explain everything,” Cyndi pleaded. “But first you have to send a crisis response team out to Alpha One immediately.”
The color drained from McNeil’s face. “You can’t be serious? Are you telling me there is a Broken Arrow incident at the site?”
Cyndi swallowed hard. “Um…I’m afraid it’s worse than that. I think this is a potential NUCFLASH situation.”
Only once in the nation’s history had a NUCFLASH event ever happened. The US had come within two minutes of launching every nuke it had on the USSR because of it. With only a small number of news outlets operating back in that pre-internet era, the Defense Department was able to threaten and bully them into not reporting the incident. Now the commander of the 90th Nuclear Missile Wing had the unwanted distinction of being in charge for the second one—in the age of instant communication.
Air fled from McNeil’s lungs like he’d been punched in the gut. Red-hot embers scattered across the floor from his dropped cigar. “What the hell have you done, Stafford?” He stumbled to the desk and grabbed the phone. McNeil punched an autodial button. When the person on the other end picked up, McNeil shouted, “Get Wilmer on the line. This is an emergency!”
“He’s not here, General McNeil,” Sergeant Morgan replied. “There’s been a serious problem at site Alpha One. He left twenty minutes ago to come tell you in person.”
“Wilmer knew about this and didn’t notify me?” Now McNeil was sure to stroke.
“Yes, sir. He wanted to make sure it wasn’t a glitch in the system before bothering you.”
McNeil’s eyes bulged out. “A glitch! Son, this is a NUCFLASH event. A damned NUCFLASH event!”
“Oh my God.” Sergeant Morgan began to hyperventilate. “Oh my—”
“Scramble a crisis response team to Alpha One immediately. Notify Los Alamos. We need their warhead recovery unit.”
“Yes, sir. Right away, sir.”
“Notify all LCCs to stand down. Take every missile in the wing off alert status.” Veins were popping out on McNeil’s neck. “And find me Wilmer! Now, dammit!” He slammed the phone down and turned toward Cyndi. “I want to know what the hell happened out there. Why are you standing in my office and not at
