And then it hit Book.
Could this be Majestic-12 impersonating a terrorist organisation?
He turned quickly, unpaused the image of Rosenthal on the screen.
The Israeli agent spoke again: ‘This new Cold War is an enhanced War against Terrorism. A 50-year War on Terror.
‘Majestic-12 are utilising two US projects to execute their plan: one is called “Kormoran”, the other “Chameleon”. Kormoran encompasses the launch vessels: missile-launching warships disguised as container ships or supertankers. These supertanker shells are built by the Kopassus Shipping Group, while the missile-launch systems are inserted into those shells at Axon plants in Norfolk, Virginia and Guam. These ships—ordinary-looking supertankers and container ships—can sit in harbours and ports around the world and yet never be noticed. That is Kormoran.
‘The “Chameleon” project, however, is far more sinister. Indeed, it is perhaps the most sinister program ever devised by the United States. It centres on the missiles themselves. You see, the missiles mentioned in the document are not pure Shahabs or Taep’o-Dongs.
‘Rather, they are US-built clones of those missiles. What you have to understand is that every major missile in the world has its own personal characteristics: flight signature, contrail wake, even the blast signature left after an impact. Chameleon is designed to exploit these differences. It is a deep-black US project under which America is building intercontinental ballistic missiles that mimic the characteristics of ICBMs built by other countries.
‘Clone missiles.
‘But Chameleon isn’t limited to Iranian Shahabs and North Korean Taep’o-Dongs. Other missiles that have been cloned include the Indian Agni-II, the Pakistani Ghauri-II, the Taiwanese Sky Horse, the UK Trident-II D-5, the French M-5, the Israeli Jericho 2B, and of course the Russian SS-18.
‘They are designed to start wars, but to make it look like someone else fired the first shot. If ever the US needs an excuse to wage war, it simply fires a clone of whichever country it seeks to blame.
‘The thing is, just as the Chameleon Project has been contracted to the Axon Corporation, the Kormoran supertanker shells are built by Kopassus Shipping. And that is the key. Both projects are contracted to companies owned by M-12 members.’
‘At 11.45 on October 26 we are going to see a rain of nuclear missiles. A rain such as the world has never seen. Co-ordinated. Precise. Missiles falling in fifteen-minute intervals, to accommodate the global news media. One missile hit is reported just as another lands, then another—striking major cities around the world. London, New York, Paris, Berlin. The world is plunged into chaos, wondering which major city will be next.
‘And when it is over, the investigation begins, and the missiles—by their flight characteristics and blast signatures—are determined to be Iranian and North Korean.
‘Terrorist weapons.
‘The world is aghast. Then, naturally, horror turns to anger. The War on Terror must be expanded. It has already been going for two years. Now it runs for another fifty. A new Cold War has begun and the military–industrial complex is mobilised like never before. And Majestic-12 makes billions.’
Book’s mind raced.
Disguised supertankers. Cloned missiles. And all of it created by his own government. He couldn’t believe it. He knew the US Government could do terrible things, but setting up other nations with false missiles?
And now these cloned missiles were to be fired—not by the US Government, but by the missiles’ builders, the men of Majestic-12—on major cities around the world: New York, London, Paris and Berlin . . .
New York, London, Paris . . .
And now Book saw the decimalised numbers on the list in a new light.
They were co-ordinates.
GPS co-ordinates of both the launch boats and the targeted cities.
It was then that he noticed the names of the Kormoran supertankers—Ambrose, Talbot, Jewel Hopewell, Whale. Cute joke. They were all named after ships from the Mayflower fleet, the ships that had seeded the New World. Just as Majestic-12 was now attempting to create a new world.
But what did all this have to do with Shane Schofield and a bounty hunt requiring his death by 12 noon today? Book thought.
And then he recalled Rosenthal himself, shouting in the rain on the roof of the King’s Tower in London:
‘It’s all about reflexes. Superfast reflexes. The reflexes of the men on that list are the best in the world. They passed the Cobra tests, and only someone who passed the Cobra tests can disarm the CincLock-VII missile security system, and CincLock-VII is at the core of Majestic-12’s plan.’
CincLock-VII . . . Book thought.
He flicked through the many folders in front of him, searching for those words.
It didn’t take him long to find them.
There was a whole file marked ‘AXON CORP—PATENTED CINCLOCK SECURITY SYSTEM’.
It was filled with documents belonging to Axon Corp and the US Department of Defense. The first document’s cover sheet was marked:
Book flicked to the section marked ‘SECURITY’, read the lead paragraph:
DISARM SYSTEM—CINCLOCK VII
In keeping with the high level of security necessary for such a weapon, the Chameleon series of missiles has been equipped with Axon’s patented CincLock-VII disarm system. The most secure anti-tamper mechanism in the world today, CincLock-VII employs three unique defensive protocols. Unless all three protocols are applied in the prescribed sequence, system activation (or de-activation) is impossible.
The key to the system is the second protocol. It is based on the well-established principles of pattern-recognition (Haynes & Simpson, MIT 1994, 1997, 2001), whereby only a person who is familiar with, and well-practised in, an established sequential pattern can enter it on demand. A stranger to the system, unless he or she is possessed of abnormally quick motor-neural reflexes, cannot hope to overcome such a system (op. cit. Oliphant & Nicholson, USAMRMC, 1996, NATO MNRR study).
Employing these principles, field tests have shown the CincLock VII system to be 99.94% secure against unauthorised use. No other security system in the military can boast such a success rate.
PROTOCOLS
The three protocols of the CincLock VII unit are as follows:
1. Proximity. To ensure against unauthorised arming/disarming, the CincLock unit is not attached to the delivery system. It is a portable disarming unit. The first protocol, then, is proximity to the delivery system. CincLock will only operate within sixty (60) feet of a Chameleon missile’s central processing unit.
2. Light-sensor response unit. Once inside the proximity perimeter, the user must establish a wireless modem connection with the disarm system. This is effected by satisfying Axon’s patented light-sensor interface. It is here that the principles of pattern recognition play their crucial part. (See NATO MNRR Research Program results, USAMRMC, 1996.)
3. Security code. Entry of the relevant disarm or override code.
To this last line Rosenthal had added: ‘Universal Disarm Code insertion was supervised by subject Weitzman. Latest intelligence suggests use of a yet-to-be-determined Mersenne Prime.’
Another page, however, was clipped to this protocol section. It was a Mossad telephone intercept transcript:
Trans log: B2-3-001-889
Date: 25 April, 1515 hours E.S.T.
Rec from: Axon Corp, Norfolk, VA, USA
Katsa: ROSENTHAL, Benjamin Y (452-7621)
* * *
VOICE 1 (DALTON, P.J. AXON CHIEF OF ENGINEERING): Sir, the D.O.D. inspection report is in. It’s good. They’re very pleased with our progress. And they particularly loved CincLock. Couldn’t get enough of it. Christ, they were like kids with a new toy, trying to crack it.
VOICE 2 (KILLIAN, J.J. AXON CHAIR AND CEO): Excellent, Peter. Excellent. Anything else?
VOICE 1: (DALTON) The next oversight inspection. D.O.D asked if we had a preferred date.
VOICE 2: (KILLIAN) Why don’t we make it October 26. I belie
ve that date would suit some of our partners on this project very nicely.
Book II leaned back in his chair.
So there was the significance of the date.
October 26.
Killian had set it as the date for a Department of Defense oversight team to examine his installation plants.
But then Book saw the next document, and suddenly the meaning of the bounty hunt became clear.
Ironically, it was the most innocuous of all the documents he had seen so far. An internal email from Axon Corp:
From: Peter Dalton
To: All Engineering Staff, Project ‘C-042’
Date: 26 April, 2003, 7:58 p.m.
Subject: NEXT D.O.D. INSPECTION
Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to announce that last week’s six-monthly inspection by the Department of Defense Oversight Committee went spectacularly well. I thank you all for your hard work, especially over the past few months.
They were impressed with our progress and amazed by our technological gains.
The next six-monthly inspection is slated for 26 October at the Norfolk installation plant, to commence at 12 noon, department heads only. As usual, strict security clearance provisions will apply for the week preceding the inspection.
Regards,
PD
And that was it.
At 12 noon today, October 26, the Department of Defense would be sending an inspection team into Axon’s missile construction facility in Norfolk, Virginia.
And presumably at that time, they were going to discover that something was amiss at the plant, that the missiles had been tampered with in some way, or perhaps even gone—stolen—at which point . . .
. . . the US Government would go searching for the only men in the world who were able to disarm the CincLock system.
Men with abnormally quick reflexes.
The men on the list.
And then it dawned on Book—for some reason, Jonathan Killian and Majestic-12 wanted the US Government to carry out that inspection today. Although he didn’t know why yet, somehow today’s inspection was an integral part of their plan.
Which made him understand something else more clearly. It had always bothered Book that this bounty hunt might only serve to warn the very men who could foil M-12’s plans.
But now this explained it.
At 12 noon today, the US Government was going to discover something at Axon’s Norfolk plant, something about the state of the Chameleon missiles and the Kormoran launch ships. Something which was crucial to Majestic-12’s plan to start a new Cold War.
‘We have to get to that plant,’ Book said aloud.
He turned to Scott Moseley. ‘Mr Moseley. Call the Department of Defense. Tell them to send their Kormoran–Chameleon inspection team in early. And get on the horn to our people in Guam. Get someone to check out Axon’s plant there as well.’
‘Got it,’ Moseley said.
Book then turned his attention to the stream of decimalised numbers on the launch list: the GPS co-ordinates of the launch sites and the targets. ‘Better find out where these missiles are going to be fired from and what they’re aiming at.’
As he booted up a GPS plotting program on his computer, he keyed his satellite radio. ‘Scarecrow! It’s Book! Come in! I’ve got some big news for you . . .’
NEAR THE FORTERESSE DE VALOIS
BRITTANY, FRANCE
26 OCTOBER, 1500 HOURS LOCAL TIME
(0900 HOURS E.S.T. USA)
The Axon chopper that had swung to a halt in front of Aloysius Knight and Libby Gant could be seen zooming away along the coastline, getting smaller and smaller, heading back toward the Forteresse de Valois—with Knight and Gant now inside it.
A lone figure treading water in the ocean waves at the base of the cliffs watched it fly away.
Schofield.
Naturally, when his blazing Mack had launched itself off the roadway and smashed into the hovering Mirage fighter jet, Schofield hadn’t been in it.
As soon as his truck’s tyres had left the road, he had bailed out the driver’s side door, dropping into the air beneath the flying rig.
The truck hit the fighter.
Gigantic explosion. Colossal noise. Metal flying everywhere.
But Schofield had been under the blast when it had happened—well below the fireball, but also out of Gant or Knight’s sight—and he fell like a bullet through the air.
His first thought had been: Maghook.
Not this time. Out of propellant.
Damn.
He kept falling—not vertically, but at a slanting angle thanks to the inertia of the truck—the cliff-face streaking past him at phenomenal speed. He saw the ocean waves below him, rushing upwards. If he hit the water from this height, his body would explode against the surface and burst like a tomato.
Do something! his mind screamed.
Like what!
And then he remembered—
—and quickly yanked the ripcord on his chest webbing. The ripcord that was attached to the attack parachute still on his back. He’d been wearing it ever since the battle on board the Hercules. It had been so compact that he’d almost forgotten it was there.
The attack parachute blossomed above him, a bare 80 feet above the water.
It didn’t slow his fall completely, but it did enough.
He lurched in the air about 20 feet above the waves, his downward speed significantly reduced, before—shoom—he entered the water feet-first and disengaged the parachute, allowing himself to shoot into the ocean trailing a finger of bubbles above him.
And not a second too soon.
For a moment later, the Mack rig and the Mirage fighter crashed down in a flaming metal heap into the waves nearby.
Schofield surfaced a short distance out from the cliffs, amid some of the burning remains of the fighter jet.
Careful to stay out of sight, he trod water amid the floating debris and sure enough, a minute later, he saw the Axon chopper swing around a nearby cliff-bend and zoom back toward the castle.
Had Gant and Knight got away? Or were they in that chopper?
‘Fox! Fox! Come in! This is Scarecrow,’ he whispered into his throat-mike. ‘For what it’s worth, I’m still alive. Are you okay?’
A single laboured cough answered him. It was an old technique—she was up there but she obviously couldn’t talk. They’d caught her.
‘One for yes, two for no. Are you in that Axon chopper I just saw?’
Single cough.
‘Are you wounded badly?’
Single cough.
‘Really badly?’
Single cough.
Shit, Schofield thought.
‘Is Knight with you?’
Single cough.
‘Are they taking you back to the castle?’
Single cough.
‘Hang in there, Libby. I’m coming for you.’
Schofield looked around himself and was about to start swimming for the shore when abruptly he saw the French destroyer surging to a halt 200 yards away from him off the coast.
On the side of the great ship, he saw a small patrol boat being lowered into the water, with at least a dozen men on board it.
The patrol boat dropped into the ocean and immediately zipped away from the destroyer, heading directly for him.
Schofield could do nothing except watch the French patrol boat approach him.
‘I’m sure the French have forgotten about that thing in Antarctica,’ he muttered to himself.
Then his earpiece burst to life.
‘Scarecrow! It’s Book! Come in! I’ve got some big news for you.’
‘Hey, Book, I’m here.’
‘Can you talk?’
Schofield rose and fell with the waves of the Atlantic. ‘Yeah, sure, why not.’ He eyed the patrol boat, now only 150 yards away. ‘Although I have to warn you, I think I’m about to die.’
‘Yes, but I know why,’ Book II said.
‘Book, patch Gant and Knigh
t in on this transmission,’ Schofield said. ‘They can’t talk, but I want them to hear this, too.’
Book did so.
Then he told them all about the Kormoran ‘supertankers’ and the Chameleon clone missiles, and Majestic-12’s plan to start a new Cold War—on Terror—by firing those missiles on the major cities of the world. He also told them about the CincLock VII security system which only Schofield and those on the list could disarm, and the incorporation by Ronson Weitzman of the US Universal Disarm Code into it, a code which Rosenthal had described as ‘a yet-to-be-determined Mersenne Prime’.
Schofield frowned.
‘A Mersenne Prime . . .’ he said. ‘A Mersenne prime number. It’s a number . . .’
The image of General Ronson Weitzman in the Hercules flashed across his mind, babbling incoherently under the influence of the British truth drug: ‘It wasn’t just Kormoran. It was Chameleon, too . . . oh God, Kormoran and Chameleon together. Boats and missiles. All disguised. Christ . . . But the Universal Disarm Code, it changes every week. At the moment, it’s . . . the sixth . . . oh my God, the sixth m . . . m . . . mercen . . . mercen—’
Mercen . . .
Mersenne.
At the time, Schofield had thought Weitzman was just mixing up his sentences, trying to say the word ‘mercenary’.
But he wasn’t.
Under the influence of the drug, Weitzman had been telling the truth. He had been naming the code.
The Universal Disarm Code was the sixth Mersenne prime number.
As Book relayed his tale to Schofield and the others, behind him Scott Moseley was busy inserting the GPS co-ordinates from the launch list into the plotting program.
‘I’ve got the first three boats,’ Moseley said. ‘The first co-ordinate must be the location of the Kormoran launch boat, the second is the target.’
He handed Book the document: now with place names added to it and highlighted:
Scarecrow Page 22
