Rogue Threat (52 page)

Within a minute, Jeremiah gave the radio handset to Hellerman, saying, “Here you go, sir.”

“Eagle six, this is the vice president. Over.”

“Vice President, this is Eagle six. We are a flight of two F-15s currently on afterburners moving to locate a Sherpa with new instructions to observe and monitor.”

Hellerman looked at Jeremiah, who shrugged his shoulders.

“Your instructions are to destroy the Sherpa,” the vice president said into the radio handset.

“Negative. Prior to being moved to your control, we were told friendlies are on board the Sherpa. We are in monitor mode.”

Hellerman looked at Jeremiah again and said, “Call Rampert and find out what the hell is going on, what kind of games he’s playing.”

“This is Eagle six. Also, was told that a nuclear bomb is on board the aircraft, and we are to avoid firing at all costs.”

“Eagle six, you are under my operational control, and you will take all orders from me. Do you understand?”

“This is Eagle six. Roger. I understand that I will follow all lawful orders you give me.”

Smart ass
, Hellerman thought to himself.

“What have you got from Rampert?” Hellerman asked Zeke.

“Sir, can’t reach Rampert, but Oceana radar control said he talked to one of the people on board, and the rumor is, get this, Matt Garrett is on board.”

The noise level in the operations center quickly wound down, and muted television monitors flashed off the dumbfounded faces of the operations crew.

“I say again, Matt Garrett might be on board the Sherpa.”

Hellerman looked stunned. He had assumed Matt and Zachary Garrett had both perished. The news that the pictures had been retrieved and that Meredith had been killed was welcome. His only concern now was the tape, the last remaining shred of evidence that could be used against him.

Ballantine had played the tape for him one day over the phone and then had sent him a copy during the early months of Desert Shield. He remembered listening to it and recoiling at the sound of his voice, so very clear and convincing, talking with May Sandford, the U.S. ambassador to Iraq at the time. It was clear evidence of conspiracy thirteen years ago. It would only circumstantially contribute to a case made regarding today’s activities. He doubted, until now, that there was anyone who could implicate him in any foul play.

But now he had Matt Garrett out there, the man that Ballantine should have killed several days ago. That was the deal, to get Matt Garrett up to Lake Moncrief so that Ballantine could kill him. In trade, Ballantine would provide Hellerman the original tape. It seemed like good sport, and Hellerman benefited from Ballantine’s organization of attacks on the country.

“Sir, did you hear that?” Jeremiah’s voice slowly brought Hellerman back to reality.

“Yes, Zeke, I heard. Matt Garrett is on board. That’s . . . that’s great news.”

“If it’s true,” Jeremiah said with raised eyebrows.

Hellerman paused, then said, “Yes, if it’s true. What authentication did Oceana get?”

“None that I’m aware of, sir.”

“Alternate command, this is Eagle six. Over.”

“Eagle six, this is alternate command,” Jeremiah replied.

“Roger. We’ve got this Sherpa on our radar, and it has banked hard to the west, following along just south of Interstate 66.”

“Roger. This is the vice president. Your orders are to destroy the Sherpa once it gets west of Warrenton.”

“Sir, this is Eagle six. Pardon me for asking, but why do you want me to destroy this aircraft with possible friendlies on it?”

Hellerman recoiled at the insubordination. “Eagle six, you are now relieved of command. Your orders are to return to base. Eagle five, you are now in command, do you understand?”

The pilot for Eagle five replied weakly, “Roger . . . roger, sir.”

“Eagle five, this is the vice president. If Eagle six is not out of your airspace in one minute, your instructions are to engage and destroy him.”

“Roger.”

“This is Eagle six. Roger. I monitored, have copied this conversation on cockpit recorder, and am breaking station. Eagle six out.”

“Eagle five, this is the vice president. Did you copy my last order to Eagle six regarding destroying the Sherpa once it has crossed west of Warrenton?”

“This is Eagle five. Roger.”

Hellerman dropped his hand to his side, still holding the handset, and realized for the first time that the entire command center was listening to his conversation and had heard his orders.

“Okay, team, listen up,” he said, authoritatively. “We don’t know if Ballantine has a gun to Garrett’s head and made him make the call or what is going on in the cockpit of that airplane. We do know that it has a nuclear device on board and that we need to destroy it in the next fifteen minutes or it could wind up anywhere. It’s a loose cannon right now, and we can’t have that. I have tough decisions to make, and if anyone here doesn’t agree, well, this is not the time to question orders but to follow them.”

He looked around the room, many eyes locked onto his.

“Matt Garrett has done a great job, and he will die a hero the same way we would have shot down any of those civilian airliners on September 11 if the Air Force had been able to get in the air soon enough.”

He heard a few grunts of agreement and saw the general mood of the crowd shift. They needed leadership. They were confused and scared sheep.

“Zeke, track this thing. I need a moment.”

Hellerman took a step back and looked at the map, ever the wolf.

If it was Matt Garrett in the airplane, who was flying? He knew that Garrett couldn’t fly and didn’t believe that Zachary Garrett could fly. Maybe it was Ballantine who had the gun to his head.

Why would Matt be taking the plane to the northeast? To go to their farm? No, they were too far away. The plane was flying a parallel path to the Chesapeake. He pondered the situation, and then it occurred to him. Matt Garrett was a good man, who would not want that nuke anywhere near large population centers. Their change in course meant a couple of things to Hellerman. First, they had only recently discovered the bomb. Second, they were having problems disarming it.

Francis Hellerman suddenly felt better about everything.

Chapter 64

Near Warrenton, Virginia

“Pay attention, Matt,” Zachary said with a heavy tongue. “I watched them install this thing. I know you think you know your bombs, but let me walk you through this.”

Matt was sitting next to the nuclear device, studying the timer and its four wires. He looked at his brother, whose heavy eyelids belied the fact that he was about to instruct him on how to disarm a nuclear bomb.

“Hey, guys, we’ve got a low fuel gauge coming on here,” Peyton warned, looking at Matt. “It’s been draining pretty fast. We must have taken a hit to the fuel tank.”

“It’s got a reserve somewhere. I think it’s a fifteen-minute job. Just play with some knobs up there,” Matt replied over his shoulder.

“Try this, Matt,” Zachary said. “Take the knife and unscrew the timer from the face plate of the bomb casing.”

Matt dug at each screw, the knife slipping and cutting his fingers twice, until the last screw fell to the floor.

“Now pull that bad boy forward.” Zachary’s eyes slipped shut for a second.

“Okay, I’ve got it Zach.” Matt lightly shook his brother, trying to wake him.

“Right, right, now you should see the same four wires. Two should be leading to the timer. What color are they?”

“They’re all the same damn color, Zachary.”

“Oh. Okay. Then you’ll see copper leads. Those indicate the end of the cables. Separate the ones that have the copper leads next to the bomb from the two that have leads next to the timer.”

Matt looked at Zachary. His brother’s voice was getting weak, the drugs obviously ebbing and flowing in his system.

“Okay. There are two that lead directly from inside the bomb into the timer and two that lead directly from the top of the timer to each end of the bomb.”

“Right, that’s the circuit. Each wire coming into the timer closes the circuit. When the timer hits zero . . . uh, where is it now, the timer?”

“It’s . . . it’s saying seven minutes, man. Come on, quit screwing around, Zachary. You used to pull this crap when we were kids.”

“Hey, man, I’m drugged. Get off my case.”

The engine began to sputter, and Matt could see Peyton frantically searching around the cockpit for knobs. Any knobs.

“Will you two quit fighting and deal with the problem, please!” she shouted.

“Oh, yeah, the reserve tank is between the seats. That little knob, just push it back,” Zachary said. “Saw Ballantine do that on our way down here. Same thing happened.”

Peyton found the knob and pushed it back, the engine sputtering and coughing, then regaining its steady hum.

“Am I good or what?” Zachary smiled weakly.

Matt looked at his brother. The man had not changed, even in death.

“Matt, you fixed that bomb yet?” Zachary asked.

“Yeah, okay. I’ve got the wires that run into the bomb.”

“Right, they’re the ones that close the loop. The timer, when it hits zero in about five minutes, will send an electronic pulse through the top wires into the bomb. The bomb will recognize that it is time to blow up and will check just to make sure with the wires coming into the timer. Those wires will complete the loop and confirm that it’s time to blow up.”

Matt looked at his brother. “And?”

“And, isn’t it obvious which wires you’re supposed to cut?” Zachary said.

Peyton looked back and said, “We’ve got a big town off to our south. We’re passing it now.”

“Must be Warrenton,” Matt said.

“No, actually it’s Fredricksburg. I cut up the Potomac since you seemed to be making progress. We’re still over water and I’m going low. So get ready.”

Her solemn tone served to cut through the brotherly jousting.

They flew in silence for about one minute, and Matt said, “Peyton? Ready?”

“Cut the loop-closing wires, Matt. Now!” Zachary’s voice was clear.

Matt looked at his brother, who said it again. “Now, Matt.”

Having taken orders from his older brother all his life, Matt lifted the knife and cut the two wires that led from the bomb to the timer. His hand shook as the knife sliced through the rubber-coated wires. He held the timer in his hand. It continued its countdown.

“Now what?” he asked, looking at Zachary.

Zachary’s eyes were closed, and he was breathing heavily.

Peyton steered the small airplane so close to the docile Potomac that the exposed wheels created minor rooster tails.

Chapter 65

Middleburg, Virginia

“Eagle five, this is the vice president. Give me the status of the Sherpa,” Hellerman ordered into the UHF handset.

“Sir, the Sherpa has just banked north of Fredricksburg. I’m giving it some space before I take it down. My plan is to use guns, hoping that might limit the damage and prevent that nuke from going off.”

“Okay, give it another two minutes, max. It ought to go down somewhere in the old Wilderness battlefield area. While not perfect, it would be acceptable.”

“Roger. Understood,” Eagle five said.

Hellerman stared at the map and paced, pinching his lips together, obviously in deep thought. Chess moves, these were all chess moves. This airplane was nothing more than an exposed queen ripe for the taking, a last gambit by a desperate opponent. The plane would be shot down, the nuke recovered, and the entire Chinese operation dismantled. The Garrett brothers would be dead, snuffing out any possible recrimination against him.

He could keep Rampert in a box, and Ballantine no longer appeared to be a threat.

Still, nagging at the back of his mind was the thought that no clever player ever offered up his prize without a counterstroke in mind.

The Ronnie Wood issue was still something he needed to contend with. Could that be it?

“I’ve got video lock on the Sherpa.” The pilot’s voice broke him from his strategic reverie.

He suddenly realized that he needed to get to his command bunker in order to survive the blast as well as continue to control the action. If the nuke detonates, everything is incinerated.

“Your command center there ought to be able to download this from the satellite, sir.”

“Zeke, hook that up.” Hellerman looked up at the blank screen. Then, after a moment, said, “Roger. Thanks. We’re with you, son.”

“Sir, we just got word that Tomcat one six shot down that Predator near Dunn, North Carolina. The report is that the bomb exploded and there’s a radiation cloud about two miles in diameter. Small nuke, but what a mess,” Zeke said.

“Listen up, everybody. Understand what I’m talking about here?” Hellerman shouted. He heard several grunts and “Yes, sirs.” “This ain’t child’s play. This terrorist came to do business, people, and we’ve got to stop him.”

Hellerman turned and looked at the large screen again. He could see the Sherpa flying level above some dotted lights on the ground. The picture was grainy but good enough to see one head in the pilot’s seat. Just for an instant, he saw long hair hanging off the shoulders of the pilot. The video feed wasn’t clear at all, but his instincts told him that Peyton O’Hara was flying that airplane.