The morning had been far more stressful than anticipated. First there was the blindside from Grace in the chairman’s read-ahead, forcing him to scramble to brief Captain Dietz in advance. Then the tense pre-brief with the Pentagon’s top brass where Dietz got hammered for Grace’s insubordination. And then an angry ambush by Dietz on the escalator.
Dietz must have spotted Arjun heading down to the cafeteria and followed him. Cornering him in the hallway, Dietz began demanding answers from Arjun about ARC’s recommendations and the false positive. Grace had been the one to go rogue on her leadership in the J6, but Arjun was getting flack for it.
But I told him all about it before the meeting. He just has his panties in a bundle.
Arjun tried to recall the exact words he’d used with Dietz when he raised the issue earlier that morning. Of course, Arjun had downplayed the situation and countered all of Grace’s points per direct orders from his CEO.
Although Arjun wasn’t absolutely certain, he assumed the Navy captain was somehow on Mr. Warren’s unofficial payroll. He’d found it rather strange when his CEO encouraged Arjun to keep Dietz apprised of any sensitive developments about ARC but never said why. He knew better than to ask questions.
However, Arjun sensed that Dietz might not be a true believer in what they were doing. Whenever any unexpected issues came up, Captain Dietz became rather agitated. This made Arjun wonder if there were certain lines the military officer would never cross—even for a large pile of cash.
The Navy captain was particularly furious about the verbal berating he’d received from General Hawkins. Grace had seen fit to bypass her chain of command with what appeared to be a serious and relevant issue, and the director of the Joint Staff wanted to know why. Even though Arjun agreed with Grace’s concerns about the ARC system, he could never tell her that. His job was to reassure Pentagon leadership about the proper functioning of ARC.
The sugar from the chocolate and caramel rushed straight to his brain, giving him a momentary high. He shook his head and breathed in deeply for a moment as a sudden lightness filled his body. Arjun smacked his fist against the elevator button. Almost as soon as it lit up, the elevator dinged, and the door opened. He entered and pressed the button for the mezzanine floor.
The door was about to close when his smartphone buzzed. The number revealed the call was long distance from Islamabad, Pakistan, his childhood hometown and the place where his parents still lived. His pulse spiked.
A sense of urgency surging in his chest, he accepted the call, but no sounds came across the line. Glancing at the screen, Arjun saw zero bars. He’d need a better signal in order to take the call, and the labyrinth of the Pentagon was a notorious dead zone. Quickly, he pressed the button to open the door, exited the elevator, and walked down the corridor toward the innermost ring of the Pentagon as fast as he could without running. It was the only place in the building with a reliable signal.
“Hello? Dad?” Arjun said, his voice strained. “Can you hear me now?” He glanced at his watch and realized it was late evening in Pakistan.
Why is my dad calling me now?
There was still no answer.
Arjun sped up his pace, and the interior windows of the A Ring finally came into view.
“Dad, just one moment. I’m almost there,” Arjun said as he reached the windows along the interior courtyard of the A Ring. Stopping next to a window, he pressed the phone to his ear and looked out into the courtyard below. “Can you hear me now?”
The sound on the speaker crackled from the poor connection.
“Yes, son. Yes, I hear you,” his father said, his voice weary. “Listen. It’s very late here. I’m calling about mom.” He paused for a moment as if something were caught in his throat. “Your mother took a turn for the worse this morning. We had to go to the hospital right away.”
“Are you with her now?” Arjun asked, his stomach sinking.
“Yes. Dadi and Nani are staying at home with your sisters,” his father said.
Arjun’s hands began to tremble, and his thoughts raced with questions. His mother had been diagnosed with stage four ovarian cancer several months prior. The doctors had performed an emergency surgical hysterectomy and then treated her with a full round of chemotherapy. She’d responded well, and the doctors were optimistically waiting to see if her cancer would go into remission. This was not the news he’d expected to hear.
“When will mom come home?” His voice cracked.
“I don’t know,” his father said. “They’re running some more tests to see if the cancer has come back or spread. Your mother is not doing well.”
There was some heavy breathing on the line and the sound of sniffles. Tears welled in Arjun’s eyes.
“Dad, are you still there?” he asked.
“Yes. Son, I need to ask you a favor,” his father said.
“Yes, anything. Do you need me to come home? I can see if there are any flights leaving later today,” Arjun asked, his lip quivering.
“No, no. Too soon for that,” his father said. “But that time may come more quickly than we’d hoped.” He paused. “We received your remittance last week. Thank you so much for your love and devotion. We couldn’t ask for a better son.”
Arjun blanched as he anticipated his father’s request. “But you need more money for the hospital bills.”
“Yes,” his father said, his tone tinged with shame. “I’m afraid so.”
Arjun went silent for a moment. To cover his mother’s medical bills, he’d been sending half of his paycheck home every month. With the high cost of living inside the Beltway, Arjun had needed to sell his car to make ends meet, but he couldn’t bear to tell the truth to his father.
“Son, you know I wouldn’t ask—”
“How much?” Arjun asked, his head throbbing hard. He could tell that a sugar crash lurked right around the corner, accelerated by the terrible news.
“We need one thousand dollars. That should carry us through this week. Son, I hate to ask so much—”
“It’s okay, dad. I’ll wire you the money after work.” Arjun gulped. That was all he had left in his bank account.
“You’re a good son, Arjun Sharma. The best… the best son any father could ask for. We’re so proud of you.”
A tear ran down Arjun’s cheek, and he wiped it away. A quick look at his watch sent his pulse into action. “Dad, I’m sorry. But I have to get back to work now.”
“Yes, yes. Of course. But did you get a chance to talk to your CEO? You know… about the ethical issues with your automated system? Because I still think it’s the right thing to do.”
“Dad, I tried to bring it up with him, but he wouldn’t listen to me,” Arjun said.
“You need to try again, son. When you reach the end of your life, you’ll want to know you always did the right thing.”
Arjun had tried to raise Grace’s concerns with his company’s CEO in the previous month, but to no avail. Dennis Warren had given him clear marching orders. Arjun was to ensure that the Pentagon leadership continued to support the ARC system, and he was to prevent Grace’s voice from being heard at the highest levels.
His conscience gnawed at him again. When he’d first raised his moral quandaries about what they were doing, his CEO gave him a long speech about the trust gap for autonomous machines. Despite superior skillsets, humans found it difficult to have faith in machines if the smallest thing stopped working perfectly. That impossible standard meant they would need to keep some things about the ARC system under wraps to prevent the Pentagon leadership from taking it offline. Without the ARC system, the United States would face a greater risk of nuclear war. Or at least that’s what Mr. Warren had told him to keep him in line.
Arjun dreaded his next conversation with Mr. Warren. He would have to fill in his CEO about the latest developments at some point. If the conversation didn’t go well, it might be his last day at Centoreum Tech. He couldn’t afford to lose his job, not when his family depended on him.<
br />
Mr. Warren will get wind of it sooner or later.
“Okay, dad. I’ll do my best. I’ve got to go now. You’ll kiss mom for me?”
“Yes. She sends all her love.”
Arjun hung up the phone, rubbed his eyes, and made his way back to the elevator. Looking down at his other hand, he saw that the remainder of the chocolate bar had melted and smudged the sleeve of his suit jacket. He licked his finger and tried to rub off the chocolate, but the brown stain was stubborn.
Shit.
Now Arjun wanted to kick himself for splurging on a candy bar in the first place. On top of that, he’d also have to pay extra cleaning charges when he returned the suit from his monthly clothing subscription. Renting top-of-the-line suits from a small boutique in Alexandria was the only way he could afford to dress for success at the Pentagon.
Arjun contemplated his long list of to-do items before the ARC test and pressed the button for the elevator several times. When the door opened, an angry pair of dark brown eyes glared back at him. His chest tightened with a sudden burst of adrenaline, and he had to force himself to breathe.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Mr. Warren said, snarling. He charged out of the elevator, grabbed Arjun’s arm, and pulled him down the hallway. “We need to have a chat.”
27
Nightfall Incident
MORGAN
1045
Eisenhower Executive Office Building
The White House
Morgan burst through the side door of the Eisenhower Executive Office Building, breathing heavily. She was greeted by the rush of thick, humid air, forcing her to put a hand over her mouth and cough a few times. The din of traffic gathering for the lunch hour, the loud honking of horns, and screeching of brakes made her wince. She rubbed her temples in an attempt to sooth her throbbing head.
Despite severe discomfort, being outside was much better than having the walls close in around her inside the White House. Her head still spun with the revelation about her mother’s associate, Anton Vega, and his potential connection to the Russian oligarchs. China’s anti-satellite missile test had raised some new questions, and she wondered if her crazy theory about Russia really did have legs to stand on.
If they’re shooting at satellites, there’s definitely something going on with China.
She desperately wanted to believe there wasn’t any connection to Russia at all, an irony that tasted bitter in her mouth. Because a connection would mean… Morgan shook her head. No, she didn’t want to think about it.
The implications of Russia’s involvement in the Nightfall Incident terrified Morgan to her core. It meant she might not be able to keep the lid on her family’s secrets much longer. It meant that her mother…
It might just be a coincidence. Maybe China is up to something.
After all, Morgan didn’t even know if the Russian oligarchs were behind the fake tweets as she’d so boldly hypothesized to President Tolley. Before she could confirm the link, it was way too early to jump to wild conclusions. But she couldn’t stop obsessing over the possibility. The more she thought about it, the tighter her chest became.
Morgan had decided to take a walk and shake it off—even if the hot, muggy weather wasn’t cooperating with her need for fresh air. As she strode toward the street, the security guard noticed her badge and waved her through the gate. Turning left, she made her way down the sidewalk along 17th Street NW toward the National Mall.
Deep down in her gut, she knew the picture of Anton with the Russian oligarchs couldn’t be a coincidence. In the past year, she’d discovered the world was a much smaller place than she ever imagined—especially among the world’s elite and within wealthy circles. Everyone at the highest echelons of global society seemed to know each other, be in business with each other, or be colluding with each other in one way or another—sometimes on a grand scale and with widespread consequences.
She’d learned the lesson the hard way after moving to D.C. about a year ago—through her discovery about her own family’s political activities and shady schemes. Like other elite families, the Shaws had long operated in the shadows of legitimate political institutions and channels. They were prone to corruption because they had sufficient power and money to circumvent the rules followed by ordinary people. It was human nature to seek the easiest path to achieve desired ends.
Is this what President Monroe meant? When he said they are coming for us? Did he mean the Russians? Were they also involved in Nightfall?
The intense morning sun beat down on her. The heat of its rays absorbed quickly into her suit and increased her body temperature. Within a few minutes, beads of sweat formed on her forehead, forcing her to wipe them away with her sleeve. Surprisingly, the heat didn’t bother her that much. Being away from the entangled politics of the White House, even for just a moment, came as a huge relief.
I really need to talk to Jack. He may know something.
Morgan pulled out her smartphone and dialed his number. The phone rang a few times, but he didn’t answer.
C’mon, Jack. Pick up.
The phone kept ringing. She stared at the screen for a moment in disbelief.
Why isn’t he answering?
As his favorite niece, Jack always took her call—there were only a few exceptions. But he’d been unusually distant since Monroe’s passing. At first, she’d chalked it up to grief. Now, she was wondering if that was the case. Her uncle wasn’t the type of person to wallow for long. He was distancing himself from her, and she wanted to know why.
Her heart sank when she heard the familiar beep of his voicemail, and she fumbled with the phone to keep from dropping it. “Um, hi. It’s Morgan. We need to talk. It’s about what Harrison said to you… right before he died. Call me.”
That should get his attention.
When Morgan hung up the phone and slipped it back in her jacket pocket, she saw something move behind a tree in the corner of her eye. She turned her head to see if someone was following her, but only a few tourists milled about the trees along 17th Street, taking photos of buildings.
Great. Now I’m paranoid to boot.
Ignoring the nagging in her stomach, Morgan walked briskly toward Ellipse Park and reviewed what she knew in her head about the Nightfall Incident. It wasn’t all that much, but a bit more than most people knew.
As far as federal law enforcement authorities were concerned, a Sunni jihadist group based out of Lebanon and called al Makhtar had orchestrated the intricate plot behind Nightfall. The general public thought the group had stolen a nuclear weapon and detonated it from outer space to cause a massive power outage and the destruction of electronics across the entire U.S. Eastern Seaboard. The terrorist attack brought the United States to its knees for several months. As reported in the news, it represented an audacious bid by the jihadist offshoot to rival al Qaeda’s achievements on the world stage.
At least, that’s what everyone thought had happened. President Monroe and her uncle had somehow made sure of it. Few people knew that the late Kieran Callaghan, Jack’s brother-in-law and the former director of the U.S. Secret Service, had led the operation for the Sons of Liberty—a far-right group of American radicals seeking to rise to power within the United States by co-opting the presidency with force. Or that the low-yield nuclear weapons used by the Sons of Liberty to blackmail the former president into resigning her office—cinching the election for Harrison—may have been developed by someone at Jack’s company. Possibly right under his nose. Or that the plot was part of a larger conspiracy to steal and detonate a nuclear weapon in outer space in order to cripple the U.S. government after Harrison took office.
Morgan had never asked how her uncle and Harrison prevented the FBI special agents who had worked the case from speaking out about the gaps in the official cover story. Or how Jack could have missed the fact that someone at his company was producing highly enriched uranium and developing nuclear weapons. Her uncle denied any connection to the bomb.
Of course, everyone, including Morgan, had been duped by her mother, Faye Shaw. She’d turned out to be Kieran’s partner in crime and the true ringleader of the operation. After Nightfall, her mother escaped detection and capture and went into hiding overseas, likely in Russia with Anton Vega’s help.
The only other people alive who knew more than the cover story were her uncle, her father, Luis, the president before Harrison, and Morgan’s former boss at the National Defense University. Morgan only knew bits and pieces of the story from Jack. But she’d always gotten the feeling they were only the ones he’d chosen to share with her.
Jack knows far more than he claims.
The circle of trust was an extremely small one, and Morgan cared deeply for most of the people in it. Thinking about the extent of her family’s potential culpability for Nightfall made her sick to her stomach. Like her, Luis had been unknowingly dragged into the scheme. He’d also helped her keep the secret.
This is why Luis always changes the subject.
The day after Harrison’s death, Jack decided to go back to heading his company, Innovative Neutronics Technology (INT), which sought to revolutionize the energy market through broad decentralization in electricity production. But her uncle’s transition had been too seamless for Morgan’s taste. She wondered what Jack might have done as Harrison’s chief of staff to protect his firm from any fallout after the Nightfall Incident.
The Russian connection put a new spin on everything she’d known about the Nightfall Incident. Morgan had suspected Anton Vega to be the mysterious Benefactor behind the Sons of Liberty operation, given his close association with her mother. Without his financial backing, the use of a space rocket, and access to the International Space Station, the Sons of Liberty could never have detonated a nuclear weapon from such a high altitude. The group had pulled off a coup in more ways than one. And the American public had no idea.
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