by T C Miller
BSOG COMMAND CENTER
CHEYENNE MOUNTAIN AFS, COLORADO
Bart’s office was at the rear corner of the BSOG space in a corner opposite end from the front door. It appeared to butt up against the back wall of the immense cavern that had been carved out of the mountain by miners decades before.
He closed and locked the office door that led to the reception area.
The fifteen-by-twenty-foot space appeared to be an ordinary government office. A dirty-white acoustical ceiling had fluorescent lights recessed into it. Light green vinyl wall panels gave the room an institutional look.
A small portion of the rear third of the room was partitioned off with glass panels and a door. An old wooden desk with a faded green blotter that had sticky notes all over it sat to the side of the private office with a tan Naugahyde executive chair behind it.
Two stacking file trays sat on one corner and an angled metal holder in front held a black plastic strip with white letters that said “Bart Winfield.” A twelve-line office phone was the only other accouterment. Two plain wooden armchairs occupied most of the space in front of the desk.
A Herman Miller credenza along the back wall offered scant writing space on a narrow counter with shelves underneath and above. A file box held folders and a small clock shared space with pictures of Nora, Brian and Bart in happier times.
“Gee, Boss...didn’t exactly give you star treatment.”
“Actually, it’s pretty much the way I want it...Don’t matter anyway...Won’tbe usin’ it much.”
“Can see why...No place for all of us to sit.”
“I can fix that.”
He walked over to the credenza and pulled a book that was hinged at the bottom and fastened to the shelf. It leaned forward and the whole unit slid sideways to open a gap on the right side large enough for them to step through. “Let me show you our real workin’ space.”
They followed him into a hidden space half the size of a basketball court with a bare rock ceiling thirty feet above. A cool breeze of filtered air that smelled slightly stale flowed gently through the space.
“Wow,” Joanna exclaimed. “You could play football in here!”
Bart replied. “Little small for that, but you could play half-court basketball...thirty-feet wide and almost fifty-feet deep...More than enough for our needs.”
“What are the consoles along the wall?” Nora inquired.
“Mostly communications and security...They also keep track of environmental conditions. There’s another cavern beyond this with emergency generators, water storage, and air filters through that roll-up door...Built to be self-sustainin’ during a nuclear attack and it’s systems are separate from NORAD’s.”
Benson broke in, “What about getting supplies in here?”
“There’s a disguised entrance at the back of one of NORAD’s corridors that comes in right over there.” He pointed to what looked like a taller version of an ordinary garage door. “Plenty big enough for everythin’ we need and it’ll withstand the blast from an RPG.”
“Man, I can’t believe this even exists,” Jake said. “And nobody’s found out about it? Takes some extra-tight security.”
“I’ve been with NSA for quite awhile and never knew,” Mary Benson interjected. “Pretty amazing.”
“Whole complex was built under classified conditions,” Bart offered. “Made it easy to add this. Shows up under the original plans as a storage warehouse and other plans as a standby command center. Some plans call it a Presidential Bunker, built in case he was vacationing in the area during an attack.
“Eisenhower had a summer White House up at Lowry Air Base, east of Denver...half-hour’s flight by helicopter. At any rate, final plans were altered to indicate it never got built. We’re standin’ in a place that doesn’t officially exist.”
“So, how did NSA end up with it?”
“That’s the beauty of it all...Owned it from the very start. CMC was a strain on the Air Force budget and almost didn’t get built...Even black budgets can get stretched. NSA stepped in and agreed to cover a good chunk of the entire project in exchange for this area. Also helped fund the bunker under the Greenbrier Resort in West Virginia.
“No more’n three-dozen people know about it, including us. Now, let’s get busy and unpack our gear.”
They spent the next three hours retrieving office belongings from crates and setting up their work areas. NSA logistics people had set up bunks in the back of the Command Center and stocked a small kitchen. There were bathrooms and showers next to the bunk areas and a small lounge with satellite TV.
“Kind of cozy,” Nora offered. “In a spartan, emergency lodging kind of way.”
Bart smiled at her enthusiasm. “Could drop you into a Turkish prison and you’d find the silver linin’!”
“Long as you’re with me.”
Benson walked up to them. “Been checking analyst’s reports for the past few days. Seems there was a suspicious incident up in Wyoming yesterday involving the death of a Highway Patrolman...”
“Suspicious? How?”
“Found in his burnt-out cruiser with gunshot wounds Made to look like a traffic stop gone bad.”
“So? Happens all the time...Probably some drug cartel. What’s different about this one?”
“The fire...Investigators found traces of a Russian incendiary grenade.”
“Now you got my attention...Anythin’ else?”
“Fire wiped out most of the evidence. One of their investigators says the trooper called in a stop on a semi and then stopped transmitting.”
“ID on the semi?”
“None, but said something on his last call about a black van in front and back of the semi.”
“Sounds like a DOE courier.”
“Does, indeed.”
“Get a map of the location up on that screen...Let’s see where they might be headed. Check with DOE to see what they have in the area...Tell them we need the info ASAP...Urgent national security...Got it?”
“On it, Boss.”
Nora sighed and spoke softly to Bart, “Looks like we’re not going to have a lot of settling in time.”
“That’s why I pushed so hard to be up and runnin’...Knew Eichner and the Russians wouldn’t take a time-out while we did. I’m gonna walk back to the kitchen and see if I can rustle up some coffee...”
“Way ahead of you...It’s brewing and the logistics guys left some donuts.”
“Love it when a plan comes together.”
***
CHAPTER 7
PERSONAL RESIDENCE, DIRECTOR, NSA GEORGETOWN, WASHINGTON, DC
“Thanks, for coming, Justin...Feel like a prisoner in my own home from restrictions placed on me by my security detail.”
“You are very welcome, sir. They are very thorough, are they not? I do not believe I have ever undergone such an extensive search for weapons. I am just glad they did not require a strip-search.” Might have found the vial in my underwear.
“Indeed...Told them it wasn’t necessary for anybody I invited.”
“I appreciate that, sir.”
The Director’s smile faded. “Before we begin the game, how are things at the office?”
“As normal as can be expected.”
“How is Hawkins handling the increased duties?”
“He is performing to the best of his abilities...”
“You could work for State in the Diplomatic Corps...So, what you’re saying is he’s muddling through?”
“There are areas at which he could improve, sir. I am assisting him as much as possible...”
“Which means you’re working long hours to make up for his short workdays, correct?”
“He also has the duties of Assistant Director...”
“Hah! I made those up...Mostly consist of him showing up every day and listening to briefings on inconsequential matters. It’s a patronage position to satisfy whichever political party is in power at the moment. That way, we get a new AD every four to e
ight years and he can report back to Congressional leaders about whatever I wish them to know.”
“Quite clever, sir.”
“In DC, it’s called survival. The real policy making is done in the Director’s office and I assume Hawkins isn’t spending much time there.”
“That is correct, sir...He comes in late and leaves early to make up for it.”
“Why, Justin, you just made one of the few humorous remarks I’ve ever heard from you.”
“Did I offend you?”
“No, I rather enjoyed it Especially since it’s true.”
“It has been rather quiet in your office, sir.”
“There you go, again...Satire seems to be your forte.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Oh, quit calling me sir...We’re off-duty in my home. Call me Harold while you’re here...or Hal.”
“As you wish, si...Harold.”
“Better, much better...Now, shall I ring for dinner to be brought up? I’m starving.”
“As am I, Harold.”
Justin excused himself before the meal came and used a bathroom down the hall to retrieve the small vial of drugs.
He sprinkled the contents on Harold’s food when the Director made a trip to the bathroom. Watching the old man hobble along gave him pause, but not for long. He had an assignment and shuddered at what the Consortium might do if he failed.
They finished a good meal and a game of chess two hours later.
“Another game in the win column for you, Harold.”
“So it is...No offense, but your game seems a little off tonight...Something on your mind?”
“Not really. I have not been getting as much sleep as when you are directing the agency.”
“Let me guess, Hawkins has you reading the daily reports and summarizing them, correct?”
“Yes...How did you guess?”
“Pulled the same stunt with Jason, my old assistant. I suppose I’ll eventually be forced into a political confrontation with him and his allies. In the meantime, try to limit any damage he might inflict upon the Agency...I should be back soon.”
“Indeed, sir. If this evening is any indication, I am sure you will. Has the doctor determined the nature of your malady?”
“Ah, you know They’re all thinly disguised witch doctors...More guessing than anything. Says it’s probably a virus of some kind, combined with exhaustion...Acts like I’m an old man. Anyway, thank you for coming...Been a pleasure.”
“The pleasure was all mine, Harold. I look forward to your speedy return and will show myself out.”
LICIA MARTINEZ’S DORM ROOM
BOULDER, COLORADO
“You can’t go camping next weekend?” Licia queried Star.
“Didn’t say I couldn’t...But Mom wants to talk about it first...Stopping by on her way to LA to work on her next album...Wants to have dinner with me Saturday night and...this is so cool...invited you.”
“All right...Where?”
“Palace Dining Room, in the Brown Palace Hotel in Denver...It’s like old money and all that...Lived in Denver when she was young and couldn’t afford it...Now she eats there whenever she’s within a hundred miles.”
“I guess camping can wait...I’ll call the others and change it to weekend after next. What did your mom say about the whole idea?”
“That we’d talk about it at dinner.”
“That mean no?”
“Uh, uh...prob’bly wants to lay down some rules...Isn’t that weird? My mom, who has this international reputation as a wild partyer, tries to be really strict with me...I don’t get it. At my age, she was living in a commune and doing whatever she wanted. I come along and boom, it’s prison time...Like Dog, who’s supposedly my bodyguard, but more like a babysitter. Is that why you have Gwen?”
“Sort of. And people trying to kill me. My uncle handpicked her, but I had the final say...She’s pretty cool.”
“No matter how cool they are, it’s still Big Brother time.”
“Maybe that’s a good thing...You know, keeping bad people away.”
“Yeah...Unless you want to have some fun.”
“Guess I’m old fashioned...My idea of fun is camping and sightseeing. Like, did you know Rocky Mountain National park is less than a hundred miles away?”
“I’m supposed to get excited over trees?”
“Don’t know...but Estes Park is exciting.”
“A park that’s exciting?”
“No, a town at the entrance to the park...”
“The entrance to Estes Park? Now you’ve lost me.”
“Estes Park is a town at the entrance to Rocky Mountain National Park...It has the Stanley Hotel.”
“The National Park has Stanley Hotel? Boy, this is starting to sound like a Laurel and Hardy skit.”
“Who?”
“You’ve never heard of Laurel and Hardy? They’re like, these famous comedians.”
“Oh, that’s it...I don’t watch much TV. What’s their show called and what night are they on?”
“I don’t know, but think they’ve been dead for a long time...”
“Then how’d they get their own show?”
“Never mind...Back to the Stanley Hotel thing...It’s where Stephen King got the idea for The Shining.”
“Okay, that’s better...I know who Stephen King is...Seen a few of his movies.”
“Well, he didn’t actually make the movies, he just wrote the books.”
“No, I’m pretty sure he made the movies...At the start it says, Stephen King’s The Shining...”
“Because he wrote the book.”
“Whatever...You sure know a lot...for somebody from a small town.”
“I read a lot and my parents took me on trips to San Francisco.”
“I keep forgetting you’re from northern California.”
“Anyway, we can go up to Estes Park sometime, but first, we may go camping near Pike’s Peak, haven’t totally decided.”
“Let me guess, this Pike place is where you peek at something amazing...like a scenic overlook?”
“No, it’s a peak, like in mountain peak.”
“Oh, so what’s the big deal about it, then?”
“The area around it...Great places to camp with fantastic views. There’s even a bunch of old mines and caves to explore.”
“Don’t know...Sounds kinda boring.”
“You’ll like it...It’s only three days, if you’re up to it.”
“Hey, if I can survive one of my mother’s weekend-long parties...Think I can handle a bunch of rocks and trees.”
“Even caves?”
“Not a big fan, but yeah.”
BSOG COMMAND CENTER
CHEYENNE MOUNTAIN, COLORADO
“Arrgghh...about ready to smash this stupid computer with the biggest hammer I can find. Like it always says...Hit any key to continue.”
Jake leaned far back in his chair at the console, looked up at the rock ceiling and then folded his arms on the Formica work surface and laid his head down.
“Sounds like somebody needs a break...or a nap,” Joanna replied.
“Break sounds good...How ‘bout it?”
“Sure, why not?”
She had to resist the urge to hold his hand as they headed toward the kitchen at the back of the cavern. “Still getting used to working in a cave,” she murmured as they walked.
“I hear that...But kinda cool...Sorta like the Bat Cave...But kinda creepy at the same time. I mean, we’re under millions of tons of rock.”
“I’m sure they knew what they were doing when they built this place...Still makes me feel a little claustrophobic.”
“Only if you think about it for too long...or talk about it too much.”
“Good point.”
“Does make you wonder if there’s an emergency exit of some kind, like if there’s a fire or something.”
“Thanks...Think the walls just closed in a little more.”
“Wait, I see it”
/> “Where? You talking about that vent?”
“No, the door next to it...Fresh air’s gotta be coming from somewhere.”
“Probably just filtered and cooled.”
“No way of knowing...Seems like it’d be awfully expensive to filter the same air over and over if the site’s not sealed up against a nuclear strike...Be a lot easier to just draw in outside air.”
“See what you mean Wonder who we could ask?”
“What about the light colonel who did the orientation, Oglesby?”
“Probably doesn’t want to talk with any of us right now...Could just look up the emergency evac plans...See if it shows up.”
“Right...If I can make the stupid computer work right.”
She made a cup of tea while he poured some coffee and they returned to their consoles after grabbing a few leftover donuts. It didn’t take her long deftly stroking the keyboard to come up with a couple of sources.
“Shows here the ventilation system tunnel goes out instead of up. There’s apparently a pass next to the mountain with a road down below, so it was easier to dig straight out the side...Has a camouflaged cover with steel louvers that shut. during an attack. In fact, you have to go through three sets of blind corners between here and the final cover...Has screens to keep out critters and intruders...And steel doors that drop down to seal off the tunnel.”
“How wide is the space between louvers when they’re open?”
“Can’t tell for sure...but there’s a hermetically-sealed passageway eighty-feet long...tall enough to stand in.”
“Man, somebody put a lot of thought into designing this place.”
“Or a whole bunch of somebodies. Gonna print out the instructions...Case we ever need them.”
“Sounds good...Better get back to tracing down police reports...More I look at them, the more I feel like Eichner and crew were involved in that Wyoming thing.”
“You tell the boss?”
“Briefed him twenty minutes ago. He’s more than a little miffed...Asked for satellite recon and got turned down.”
“No way! We’re looking for stolen nukes...How can they say no?”
