Vulcan's Fire

everybody wanted a finger in every pie: basically empire building. The main agency was called the 12th GUMO, the ministry of defense office that oversaw nuclear weapons. So you had both KGB and military Spetsnaz units capable of delivering backpacks, but the actual control and distribution of the nukes was fairly complex. I think that some were kept near operational units while others were in special depots for inventory and maintenance.”

Ashcroft raised his hand. “How much damage could one of these things do, Doctor?”

“A one KT detonation could level an area of two, maybe three square miles. That may sound like a lot but actually it’s not. Remember, these things are demolition devices, meant for sabotage rather than strategic or even tactical use. The effects could be heightened by adding radioactive materials to produce a ‘dirty bomb’ that would increase lethality, but that would take some expertise.”

Langevin began pacing, warming to his subject. “Now, we need to remember. The Soviets weren’t slipshod or crazy. They knew the possibility that some of these things could get into the wrong hands. So they put PALs on each weapon — permissive action links. That means that anybody who had a nuke would need the correct codes to enable a detonation for that particular package.

“There’s more. The shelf life of a backpack nuke is pretty limited in any case, but once the weapon is separated from its power source it relies on a battery. At that point the clock’s ticking before the weapon goes flat line.

“Now, I already alluded to the maintenance problems. It’s safe to say that as a general rule, a backpack needed inspection and probably upkeep twice a year — maybe more. So…”

Ashcroft interrupted. “So anyone who bought one of the damn things would need some know-how or support to make it work.”

The scientist nodded. “Correct. Depending on the type of weapon, the operator needs four to ten minutes to detonate it.”

Rick Barrkman’s baritone arose from the back row. “Doctor, how in the world do we know where to begin looking for these things?”

Langevin arched an eyebrow and looked to Omar Mohammed.

“I was coming to that little item,” Mohammed began. “Originally we were going to the field with IDR liaison, Druze officers who have worked with special operations command. But the recent casualties have made that difficult, so we’re relying on direct radio contact with Northern Command. If we find anything, we notify them as soon as possible, but not at the risk of allowing a weapon to get away.”

“Doctor, how secure is the comm?” Furr did not want to take communications for granted.

“Each team has a frequency-agile radio that has been tested for compatibility with Northern Command. That’s in addition to our own radios for talking between our teams and El-Arian. I speak Hebrew; but if for some reason I cannot communicate, the Israeli command net will have English-speaking operators on hand until further notice. The authenticator codes are on cards with each set. Before we leave, we will check out another operator on each team.”

Green’s lips curled beneath his mustache. “Gosh, Doctor, where’d we ever get such high-priced equipment?”

Mohammed returned the door-kicker’s mirthful tone. “Let’s just say that I have a very rich uncle.”

Rob Furr still had concerns that he wanted discussed. “Dr. Mohammed, I don’t want to play what-if all day, but there’s just a lot that could go wrong and I’d like to know what sort of planning is involved. Like, what if we get one of these nukes and Dr. Langevin isn’t available? None of us knows how to disarm the thing.”

Langevin rose to his feet. “If I am KIA, you mean.” Without awaiting a response, he continued. “In that sorry event, women around the globe will tear their hair in a frenzy of grief.” He managed a straight face. “But of lesser concern, you should keep ‘the thing’ as secure as possible and call for help. Obviously, you do not want it to fall into the wrong hands again, and I will show you how to render it inoperable. I have written instructions with pictures.” His message was implicit: Even you knuckle draggers can understand them.

“Another thing,” Ashcroft said. “I like to think I can get out of trouble as fast as I can get into trouble. Are we gonna have to walk out through Indian country?”

“No, you will not,” Mohammed replied. “Northern Command and the Beirut embassy both have helicopters standing by. As soon as they hear that you have recovered a weapon, the helos will be on the way.”

Barrkman had sat patiently through the what-if session. “Sir, I would like to ask my question again. How do we know where to start looking?”

Mohammed lowered his voice to emphasize the seriousness of his words. “The border has been divided into operating areas for us and for… other assets. That’s as much as I can say for now. If necessary, some of those assets can be directed to you via Northern Command.”

“So there’s Israeli teams out looking, too,” Barrkman replied.

Mohammed made a point of looking around the room. “Other questions?”

Pitney finally spoke up. He was getting fidgety with all the discussion. “Yes, sir. When do we leave?”

“Right after dinner.”

NORTHERN ISRAEL

Brigadier General Solomon Nadel strode into the special operations office. It was past dinnertime but the watch officers were accustomed to seeing the brigade commander at odd hours.

“Sir, Colonel Livni is not here just now,” the major said.

“That’s all right. He’s entitled to some rest.” Before the staffer replied, Nadel nodded at the map of the operating area. “Show me the teams.”

The major traced a finger across the border. “Aleph, Beth, Gimel, and Daleth, east to west.”

“Three men each?”

“Yes, sir.”

Nadel tracked his scan across the map. “How did you decide where to deploy them?”

The major grimaced. “Feldmann.”

“What?”

“Sergeant Feldmann. Colonel Yak… Livni… places great confidence in his intuition.”

“Sergeant Peanut Butter?”

A grin replaced the grimace. “You heard about that? Uh, sir.”

“Heard about it? Hell, I was there!”

“Well, General, that’s the thing about Feldmann. They say he’s always right or he’s never wrong.”

Nadel shook his head, as if just awaking. “What’s the difference?”

“Nobody knows, sir. But when the leader of Team Gimel saw the layout he said, ‘If Feldmann thinks that’s where we’ll find them, that’s the sector I want.’”

“God help us,” Nadel responded. Then, looking closely at the map, he added, “And the others?”

“Sir?”

“The other teams.”

The ops officer shifted his feet. He doesn’t want to discuss it, Nadel thought. “Well, General, I don’t know if…”

“Well, I know. Major. Yakov and I already discussed it.”

“Ah, yessir. I’m sorry, sir. The Americans have two teams in this area.” He traced the region north of the IDF zones.

“Are you in contact with them?”

“Yes, General. We ran a routine communications check about half an hour ago.”

“Then we’ve done about all we can.”

The major grinned. “For now, anyway.”

“Yes, for now.”

SSI OFFICES

Marshall Wilmont had nothing encouraging to say. “Right now it’s doubtful that we’ll recover any of the bodies. Officially they’re all MIA, but Brezyinski saw Frank and Boscombe killed, and apparently Lee was fatally wounded.”

Carmichael said, “Marsh, I’m not criticizing Breezy in any way, but you know there’s always room for doubt. Eyewitnesses are wrong all the time.”