“Jacques, leave Jean alone! Stop it!” Yvon threatened the ten-year-old boy. Jacques stopped for a second and then started again. Henri looked disgusted with the endless racket and boxed Jacques on the ears. Yvon gasped, “Henri, don’t hit your brother. That’s not nice!”
Henri growled, “Look, old woman, I’m fed up with these two squabbling. If you don’t want to fix it, I will! I’m tired of all of the noise. I’m going out!” Henri got up and headed for the door. “I’ll grab something to eat with the guys.”
Yvon tried to protest but Henri was through the door and gone before she could even form her argument.
Jacques sat and rubbed his head where Henri had hit him. There were tears in his eyes but he wasn’t going to cry. He wouldn’t give Henri the pleasure of knowing he’d made Jacques cry. I hate Henri. He’s no brother. He’s just an animal.
They ate the meal Yvon prepared. It was largely rice, but well flavored with small pieces of meat and cubed vegetables. Yvon had learned to stretch the money she earned nursing to care for her children. Henri seemed to despise her for what he saw as “cheapness” and never failed to tell her.
Jacques helped Yvon clean up and put things away for the evening. They had just settled in to watching a game show from the United States over the illegal satellite receiver Yvon had purchased on the local black market, when the front door flew open and Henri strode in. He stood in front of the TV and announced, “There’s a hurricane warning underway. We have to find shelter in the next ten to twelve hours!”
Yvon shook her head at her eldest son. “No, Henri, we will stay here. Our apartment is on the second floor. We have everything we need right here. We will just board up our windows and we’ll be safe.”
Henri countered, “Mama, the announcement is that this is the mother of all storms. They want everyone to leave the city.”
“No, Henri. I’ll not leave my home. Nor will my children.”
Henri knew his mother would never leave her home. It was a choice of staying with her and his siblings and probably dying, or run for the hills by himself. I have to think about myself. Henri thought as he moved to his sleeping area in the large bedroom he and his brothers shared. He had to pack a few things.
51
Hesitation Removed
Senator Gutierrez pressed the call button on the intercom unit sitting on his immense, hand-carved, Ziricote wood desk.
He pressed the required four-digit code on the keypad hidden among the ornate figures carved in to the right edge of the desktop. A small, hidden compartment’s panel popped open on the left side of the desktop.
The artisans who had built his desk had spared no expense in finding the richest native Ziricote wood. The desk was a rich dark brown, with thin wavy black lines like walnut, but with the hardness and color tones of rosewood.
He had personally supervised the desk’s construction and had fired several wood carvers before finding the two men who finally finished his masterpiece. They had built a special false panel into the top of the desk that opened to reveal a hanging files compartment. The Senator used this space to hold his “eyes only,” ultra confidential files. Most of these were legitimate government related operations, but several were highly volatile non-sanctioned projects, such as the current Storm Killer operation.
He brushed some lint off the surface of the desk as he waited for his assistant to answer. He loved this desk.
The Senator reached into the compartment and withdrew the folder marked “Storm Killer.”
“Yes, Senator?” young Antonio replied to the buzzer.
The Senator pressed the talk key on the intercom. “I’ve received word that the United Nations Security Council will not be able meet in emergency session in time to deal with the Storm Killer problem.”
Antonio was already aware of this from his normal government information channels. Apparently, too many council members were unavailable at such short notice. Antonio realized that his employer, having exhausted the political solution, was bound on the illegal espionage solution.
“I need for you to get our inside man in Washington on the phone for me. Put him through to me as soon as possible,” the Senator requested and released the intercom key.
“Very well, Senator, at once,” Antonio replied and disconnected.
The Senator read through the background file on his Washington inside man. He was a well-respected member of the scientific community, was well placed within the Storm Killer project advisory team, and was a high-powered member of the White House staff.
He had been bought and paid for with money from a special government black-ops projects fund controlled by the Senator and his Senate subcommittee. The uses of black ops money were never audited nor reported through any standard government channels. No one in Mexico City would ever know nor question the expenditures.
There was a knock on the closed office door. “One moment!” the Senator ordered. He quickly replaced the file within the secret compartment and closed the desk panel. Once closed, there was not a hint of the existence of the hidden panel.
“Enter,” The Senator invited.
His assistant opened the door and entered. He carried a clipboard with several papers held in place. He walked to the desk, laid the clipboard on the desk, turned it so the Senator could examine the contents, and said, “Here’s the latest intelligence from your men on Storm Killer, and your man in the White House. As you can see, the situation deteriorates with each passing minute. Your man at the White House is on line one awaiting your pleasure.”
The Senator quickly scanned the reports, nodded and punched the blinking line one button on his desk phone.
“Doctor?” The Senator began.
“Yes, sir. This is very bad time to talk. Look things are hectic here right now. We will shortly accomplish our goal. I’m really too busy to spend any t---.”
The Senator cut off the doctor’s last remark. “Then stop your infernal talking! Just listen! The political path has failed. You will implement Plan Omega. I want the immediate destruction of the space station. Allow enough time to get the remaining crew away from the station and then have the Russians blast it into oblivion. Do you understand your orders?”
“Yes, sir. This shouldn’t be difficult. The President is already talking with the Russians about their aid in annihilating the station. I’ll report back when the missile launches.”
“Good. Is there any problems that can derail our plans?” the Senator asked.
“The only problem is the onboard security team. They are good, and aggressive. They’ve already recovered the chip. But our number two associate there has gotten it back, at least, for the moment. That required taking out one of the security team.”
“Which one?”
“Hoch.”
“I really wish it had been Danby. She is far too clever. She may figure out who our inside people are before our objective is met.”
“I would agree. I would discuss it with our number one associate on board and see if he can take her out, but the missile launch is imminent and she can’t possibly stop it at this point.”
“I think it is best if we terminate Ms. Danby immediately. Make it happen!” The Senator snapped the order.
“As you wish. I’ll go and get the rest of Plan Omega underway, and have our number one take her out immediately. I’ll call you when the missile launches.” With that the doctor hung up.
The Senator listened to the other end of the line disconnect, and he slowly replaced the phone in the cradle.
Antonio could not believe that he had just heard a Senator of the Mexican government ordering the destruction of a multi-billion dollar project owned by the United States, and the murder of this Kim Danby person. His numbed brain slowly began grinding out rationale thoughts again. This is madness! I’ve got to stop this somehow! But, how can I stop it? Who can I turn to?
He turned and almost ran from the room. The Senator failed to notice, as he was deep in thought.
Anto
nio leaned his back against the Senator’s office door and tried to restore a sense of calm in his mind. He pondered on who he could contact with the information he had. Who could have immediate effect on the outcome of his employer’s Plan Omega? And who can stop the ordered murder?
Suddenly it dawned on him, the Senator had mentioned the one person who he feared could upset his plans. Kim Danby! If she was of such concern to his employer that he would order her murder, than maybe she is resourceful enough to undo this horrendous plot.
Antonio closed up his desk and signed out of the office to the Government Communications Center. He would contact her with his information. Maybe she could save herself and stop the Senator’s plan before all was lost.
He stopped outside of the Senate office building, pulled out his personal communication device and called his friend at CISEN, the National Security and Investigation Center. CISEN, Mexico’s intelligence, counter-intelligence, and security agency was the Mexican equivalent of the American CIA.
His friend answered, “Hola, Juan Portillo.”
“Hola Juan. ¿Cómo te va?” Antonio greeted his friend.
“Antonio, speak English, please. Your English is very good. I’m trying to get ready for a job in the CISEN office in Washington. I need the practice!”
“Very well. Please, I need your help. It is a matter of life or death. I need to speak at once with a security officer onboard the United States’ Storm Killer station. Her name is Kim Danby. I need her direct number,” Antonio explained.
“It will take me a few minutes, my friend,” Juan replied. “I will ring you back!”
Antonio disconnected and briskly walked toward the communications center. Hopefully, Portillo would come through as he always had in the past. Antonio thought as he walked. He and Portillo had been involved in several government policing actions aimed at shutting down drug-making operations in Senator Gutierrez’s state. They had worked well together and trusted each other completely. That trust was demonstrated by Juan’s immediate spring to action to get the phone number Antonio needed with no questions asked.
As Antonio approached the front door of the Mexican Communications Center, his communications device beeped that there was an incoming call. He took the device from his belt, punch the receive button and saw it was Juan calling back.
“Antonio here,” he answered.
“Here is the number, my friend. Do you have something to write on or do you want me to text it to you?” Juan asked.
“ Text it, please. And might I ask you for one more favor. Can you get the call records for this phone number?” Antonio provided his friend with the number of the Senator’s White house contact. “I’m specifically interested in calls made and received within the last hour. There should be one received from my employer’s office. I need to know what calls were made from that number immediately after that call was received. And can you hurry?”
“Certainly, my friend. Where are you now? You are at the communications center? Good, I will fax the list to you there shortly.”
“And I thank you. I hope I can tell you why I needed this sometime in the future,” Antonio responded.
“Never mind. All I need to know is that you think you need to talk to this woman. That is enough for me. Let us have dinner in the near future,” Juan replied.
“Yes, certainly dinner,” Antonio said. Then he smiled and added, “Juan, the correct English is ‘let’s have dinner’. Nobody says ‘let us’.”
“Thank you for the correction. These contractions are a real pain in my ass. That’s right is it not – a pain in my ass?” Juan asked.
“You got it, my friend. Just like an American!” Antonio laughed. “Goodbye for now.”
“Go with God, my good friend,” Juan replied and hung up.
Antonio glanced at his message display and saw the text message with the phone number. He thought to himself, I hope God does go with me on this. Human life and the protection of Mexico’s image hang in the balance.
He signed in at the desk, showed his senatorial employee credentials, asked them to bring him the fax as soon as it arrived, and shortly found himself sitting in a small phone booth awaiting his call to be put through to Kim Danby.
52
Russians To The Rescue
The President quickly briefed the Russian President, Vladimir Korsakov, on the Storm Killer situation. He didn’t have to spend too much time on the briefing since the Russian knew just as much from his own intelligence services as the President did already. The President made his request for the Russians to use their missiles.
At first, Korsakov refused to admit they even had missiles targeted at Storm Killer. “Mr. President, we have no such missiles. Why would Russia target a peaceful weather research project such as your Storm Killer? We have our own scientists on your station and we know it is not a weapon. Why would we target it?”
The President sighed, “Vladimir, you would target it because we would target it if roles were reversed. We know from our intelligence community that you have two modified TOPOL-M SS-27 missiles targeted at Storm Killer. I believe your SS-27 is equivalent to our Peacekeeper, which is a multi-warhead weapon. We also know that you have six five hundred and fifty kiloton nuclear warheads loaded on each of the SS-27 targeted on Storm Killer. So, please, don’t deny it. You see, we know!”
Korsakov sighed and thought, “Our Russian Security is like a sieve. Our people sell our secrets for a few US dollars.” He replied, “Harold, if such a weapons system existed, what would you want of us?”
“I want you to detonate two warheads on Storm Killer. No more than that, we still have a shuttle close by to extract the last of the personnel before we destroy the station. We are sure one warhead would do, but for safety, two are best. More warheads than that, and I fear the dispersion patterns would take out the shuttlecraft.”
“And if we do this thing, assuming we can find a missile to do it with, what is in it for my country?” Korsakov asked carefully.
“World thanks and appreciation. You would be the good guys, and I fear we, the United States, will be the bad guy for allowing Storm Killer to even be built.”
“I think a scientific exchange of the design and manufacturing specifications for the polymer magnifying film used on Storm Killer would be a wonderful token of appreciation from the USA to Mother Russia,” Korsakov proposed.
The President choked and then caught his breath. The polymer film was the key to some in-plan military applications. Could he trade away such a significant technical edge for the United States?
He glanced to Rose Magruder and Professor Rosen. He gave them a questioning look. Should he give up the film secrets?
Doctor Rosen nodded ‘yes’. Rose Magruder simply shrugged her shoulders.
The President sighed, what the hell, I’ve gotta do it, or we are shit up the creek.
“Okay Vladimir, it’s a deal. You get the specifications for the film. Now please launch that missile!”
“Alright, dear friend. Russia will rescue you. I will order the launch at once. It will be a few minutes to set the warhead configuration in the onboard computer. I will have our mission control patch your advisors in when we are ready to launch. Give us ten minutes. Goodbye.” Korsakov said and then hung up.
The President and his advisors sat quietly as they waited for Russian mission control to call. The President simply stared at the world map on the wall in front of him. Rose doodled on a piece paper, and Professor Rosen placed a hand in his pocket and folded his fingers around his cell phone. As soon as he could, he would sneak off and send his man the word to evacuate the station.
All’s well! He chuckled to himself.
53
Saving Hoch
Kim and Lt. James were riding the cart toward the control center when the call from Brad came to Kim’s phone.
“Kim? Please hurry! I was attacked and held hostage. Hoch came to rescue me. I was knocked out and when I came to, the intruder was gone and Hoch is o
n my bedroom floor, almost dead from gunshots. I think he’s still got a pulse but it’s barely there. Please hurry!” Brad hurriedly said.
Kim looked sharply at Lt. James and yelled, “Turn the cart! Head to Bolino’s quarters! Hoch has been shot!” The lieutenant didn’t hesitate; he turned the cart ninety degrees and floored the accelerator.
Kim got the whole story from Bolino about the intruder and him wanting them to stop the chip recovery. Apparently Hoch decided to deal with the situation himself. Damn, that was a stupid thing to do! Kim thought to herself. But then she got a wry smile on her face and added, Yeah, about as stupid as me going to the safety closet by myself and getting knocked out and tied up.
Hoch had done exactly what any of the three of them would have done in similar circumstances.
The cart slid to stop in front of Bolino’s quarters. Bolino was standing at the door awaiting them. He quickly led them into his bedroom where Hoch lay on the floor. A quick check of his life signs proved him to be still alive, but barely.
Lt. James said, “Look, Kim, you stay here and get the story from Brad. I’ll go get the doctor and bring her back for Hoch. Maybe we can save him.
Kim nodded as she knelt next to Hoch with her hand on his forehead. “Hurry!” was all she replied.
Brad stood next to the door as the Lieutenant moved passed him. Brad placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him for a moment and asked, “Did you get the chip?”
“Yes, Kim has it in her pocket. As soon as I get the doctor, we’ll take it to the control center,“ the lieutenant replied.
Brad said, “Look, I’m no good to anyone here. Why don’t I take the chip to the center and you guys deal with y’all’s problems here.”
Lt. James mulled it over a few seconds and yelled back to Kim in the bedroom. “Kim! Let’s give the chip to Brad and he can return it to the center while we deal with Hoch. Okay?”
Storm Killer Page 17
