High Alert (The Project Book 14)

by Alex Lukeman

  "China won't like this," Nick said.

  "You just put your finger on one of the problems. The Chinese have been unwilling to shut down Yun's lunacy with his missiles and his nuclear program. Now it's coming back to bite them in the ass. They're worried we're going to provoke him into using his nukes."

  "So it's our fault if he does?"

  "Everything is our fault, these days. There's a meeting at the White House with the Chinese ambassador later today to discuss the situation. President Zhang will be on the phone. Rice wants Selena in the room with him, to listen in."

  Selena Connor was part of the field team. Against all the odds, she and Nick had gotten married the year before. Selena spoke Chinese fluently and understood the important nuances lost or omitted in translation. Her uncle had been a close friend of the President, and she'd known Rice since she was a child. He'd asked her once before to help him understand the minds of the men who ran China.

  "She'll be here soon," Nick said. "What time is the meeting?"

  "Four o'clock. Rice wants her at the White House a half hour before, and he wants you and your team outside. There will be protests when the story leaks."

  "The Secret Service can handle it. We're not cops. Why would he need us? Did it occur to him that I'm a little busy right now?"

  "Ours but to do or die, Nick. What the President wants, he gets."

  After he hung up, Nick leaned back and thought about the California. Someone had given the North Koreans the technology. Whoever he was, Nick hoped the bastard was found out before he did any more damage.

  He heard the door open and someone stomping their feet in the entryway. A moment later Lamont Cameron came in. He threw his coat over the arm of the couch across from Harker's desk and sat down.

  "Man, I hate this cold weather. How about coming up with a mission someplace warm?"

  "Scuttlebutt says we might be heading to the Arctic," Nick said.

  "Funny, Nick. You got a real future as a comedian."

  Lamont was one of four who composed the Project team in the field, along with Nick, Selena, and Ronnie Peete. He was a little shorter than Nick's six feet, lean and muscled. He'd been a Navy SEAL for most of his military career and had the scars to prove it.

  Shrapnel in Iraq had left a long, pink line across his brown face. It started over his right eyebrow and worked its way across the bridge of his nose, then down his left cheek. It gave him a piratical look that belied his easy-going humor.

  Selena and Ronnie came in the door and shook snow off their boots. A puddle of water was starting to collect in the entry.

  "I don't think the snow's going to last," Ronnie said as he sat down. "It doesn't smell like it. Just enough to make everything a mess."

  "With that nose of yours, I'll take that as gospel," Lamont said.

  "It is a Roman nose," Ronnie said, "a sign of intelligence and intuition." He sniffed. "The snow will stop."

  It was true Ronnie had a big nose. It went with his Navajo heritage. He had the stocky build, light brown skin, broad shoulders and narrow hips of the People. He dropped onto the couch next to Lamont. Selena sat next to him.

  The dress code at Project HQ was casual. Selena wore black slacks and boots. She had on a dark blue sweater that brought out the violet color of her eyes, She wore no jewelry except her wedding ring. The cut of her red-blonde hair framed high cheekbones hinting at a Slavic ancestor in the distant past. She had the kind of unselfconscious beauty that always got a second look. A natural beauty mark above her lip added the final touch.

  Nick wasn't used to looking at the team from this side of Elizabeth's desk. He wasn't comfortable with the feeling of separation it created, but it went with the territory.

  A friendly looking, dark-haired woman came into the room and took a seat near the desk. Stephanie Willits knew how the Washington political game worked. She was Elizabeth's deputy and knew where all the bodies were buried. Technically, she should have been the one sitting in Harker's chair, but she and Nick had played this game before. There wasn't any competition between them. They shared a mutual determination to get the job done. She took her usual seat to the right of the desk.

  She'd arranged for someone to stay with her newborn son during the day while she was working. Normally, Steph was full of energy. Today she seemed tired, her cheerful face showing the stress of a newborn baby and holding down one of the toughest jobs in Washington.

  "Sorry I'm late. Matthew kept me up half the night."

  "It's nothing to worry about, Steph."

  Nick decided to begin the meeting and get right to the point.

  "I got a call from DCI Hood this morning to start off our day. There's a problem."

  "There's always a problem," Ronnie said.

  "Yesterday one of our ballistic subs went down with all hands," Nick said. "The California carried a hundred and sixty-five officers and enlisted men and a full complement of nuclear cruise missiles."

  Lamont sighed. "Shit. I have a buddy on the California."

  "How? Where was she?" Selena asked. She brushed a wisp of hair away from her face. It was a gesture Nick had come to love.

  "The how is what we're going to talk about. The where is off the East Coast of North Korea, in twenty-seven hundred feet of water."

  "Did the Koreans sink her?"

  "Almost certainly. They're the logical suspects at this point."

  "Do we know what happened?" Lamont asked.

  "Yes and no. We know some of it. Her emergency beacon deployed when she went down. Aside from giving the location, the beacon records all the relevant data and functions of the vessel up to the moment it's released."

  "Like an airplane black box?" Selena asked.

  "Right, only more sophisticated. When there's an accident and the beacon reaches the surface, it broadcasts everything to a satellite. The California's beacon sent everything it had recorded before the North Koreans retrieved it."

  "Have we mounted a rescue operation?"

  "Yes. That's part of the problem. She was patrolling outside Wonsan harbor. Pyongyang is claiming it's a provocation for war and using it as a propaganda tool."

  "Crush depth on those big nuclear subs is just under twenty-two hundred feet," Lamont said, "but she might survive deeper than that. The crew could still be alive."

  "It's possible. We can hope so, but that's not our job. It's a touchy situation because North Korea's leader is unpredictable. Nobody knows what he's going to do."

  "Why did you say yes and no about how she was sunk?" Selena asked.

  "The sub went down because a virus was transmitted into her computers. We know that because of the record on the beacon. That's the 'yes' part."

  "I thought you couldn't transmit something like that underwater," Lamont said.

  "Usually you can't. Salt water blocks transmission of everything except very low-frequency or extremely low frequency transmissions. The virus wasn't sent in that manner. Before the sub's computers failed, the emergency buoy recorded a distinct signature. It was done using a top-secret device developed by our own people."

  "What kind of device?" Ronnie asked.

  He settled his broad shoulders against the couch and rubbed his nose.

  "An underwater drone codenamed Black Dolphin. It's programmed to attach itself to an enemy vessel and transmit the virus, using the hull as an antenna. Hood told me about it when we talked on the phone this morning. Technically none of you are cleared to know about it. You can't mention it to anyone."

  "Wait a minute," Lamont said. "The computers on our nuclear subs have so many firewalls no one could get through them without the proper codes."

  Nick just looked at him.

  "Oh, boy," Lamont said. "Someone gave the Koreans the codes?"

  Nick nodded. "Yes. What we don't know is who it was. That's the 'no' part, Selena. Whoever it was, there's a traitor somewhere in our command structure."

  "Those are strong words, Nick," Ronnie said.

  "There isn't any other
explanation. That technology is as secret as it gets. Only a high-ranking officer would know the codes or be able to access plans for the drone."

  "We're certain about what happened?" Stephanie asked.

  "The beacon recorded a specific signature that identifies Black Dolphin. The computers on the sub were compromised and taken off-line. They wouldn't have had time to do much of anything before the ship went into negative buoyancy and headed down."

  "Where do we come in?"

  "I'm not sure yet, but you can bet Rice will come up with something. He isn't going to walk away from those men. He's gone to DEFCON 2."

  "That was fast," Ronnie said.

  "The whole situation is dangerous as hell," Nick said. "North Korea's so-called Great Leader seems to be getting ready to invade the South. That's why California was lying off Wonsan, to observe their preparations."

  "Here we go again," Lamont said. "That guy is a nut job. He never quits."

  "If Pyongyang invades the South, it brings China into the mix," Selena said. "Not to mention Russia. Orlov won't sit on the sidelines."

  Nick nodded. "Beijing knows we won't permit the North to conquer South Korea. We'd intervene, as we did in the 50s. It's not in Beijing's interest to see a war start between North and South Korea, but you can be damn sure they don't want us taking over the peninsula."

  "We could be looking at another Korean War," Selena said.

  "You mean the police action no one wants to call a war?" Ronnie said.

  "Rice spoke with China's President Zhang an hour ago and told him we think North Korea sank the sub. He told him we're going to send a rescue mission whether Pyongyang agrees or not, and that we will defend against any effort to keep us from doing so. Advance elements of the Seventh Fleet are already on their way from Yokosuka. If the North Koreans start shooting, we'll shoot back."

  "I bet that made Zhang's day," Ronnie said.

  "Zhang may decide China has to assist her ally. Or he could pressure Yun not to interfere with the rescue mission. He could decide they've had enough with Yun's erratic behavior and take over the North entirely. That's another scenario we won't tolerate. Whatever happens, if we start trading shots with the North Koreans it could lead to a confrontation with China."

  "The Korean War was a long time ago," Ronnie said. "Everything is different now."

  "Missiles and nukes are what's different," Nick said. "If a war starts between North and South, it's going to escalate. Yun can't win, but he's crazy and arrogant enough to think he can. He believes his enormous army could take Seoul in a few days. He'd be right, except for the fact that we guarantee South Korea's safety. He has nukes, as he's always telling everyone. If he thinks he's going to lose, he'll use them."

  Selena said, "Where do we fit in?"

  "Remember how we helped the Chinese avoid a coup?"

  "How could I forget?"

  That mission had brought Nick and Selena together. The high mountains of Tibet and an ancient fortress guarding an emperor's tomb had been the scene of Selena's initiation into combat.

  "Rice and Zhang have scheduled a teleconference this afternoon at the White House. The Chinese are as worried about war in Korea as we are. The Chinese ambassador will be there as Zhang's personal representative. Rice wants you to listen when he talks to Zhang. He trusts you. It's not just because you understand Chinese. It's because of your intuition, your ability to sense what's being said behind the words."

  "I'm flattered, but he's overestimating my ability."

  "I don't think he is. Remember the last time."

  "What about the rest of us?" Lamont asked.

  "There will be protests when word leaks out about the sub. Anything to do with North Korea, the Chinese, or nuclear submarines brings people out on the street. The rest of us will be on the scene and liaise with the Secret Service while Rice is talking to Zhang."

  Lamont said, "Those boys are pretty territorial. They'll have us guarding the White House outhouse."

  "There's an outhouse?" Ronnie said.

  "If there isn't, they'll probably build one for us."

  "We'll work with them, not for them," Nick said. "I don't know why Rice wants us there, but we don't have a choice about it. We'll be outside. If there's going to be trouble, that's where it will happen.. People always want someone to blame for the mess we're in and there are powerful interests happy to oblige them."

  "It's not as though Zhang will be here in person," Selena said.

  "His ambassador will. Now that Rice's administration is on its way out the door, the White House is springing more leaks than the Titanic. Someone will organize a demonstration. It could be about Tibet or nuclear power or about American neo-colonialism in Korea. It doesn't matter."

  "What a great country," Lamont said.

  "You know, Nick, you don't have to go with us," Ronnie said. "This is just a dog and pony show, nothing's going to happen."

  "I need a break from this desk," Nick said. "Besides, Rice asked for me to be there with everyone else."

  "Yeah, but you're supposed to be running things, not doing grunt work like this."

  "Hey, I have to keep an eye on you, don't I?"

  CHAPTER 2

  The sinking of USS California leaked before noon. The White House Press Secretary announced that a rescue mission had been dispatched from Japan. He went on to say that, Rice would talk later in the day with the President of China to discuss "regional stability," and that the Chinese ambassador had been invited to the White House to participate in the call.

  By two o'clock there were more than a thousand people outside the barriers on Pennsylvania Avenue in front of the White House. They carried homemade signs protesting nuclear weapons, climate change, and the Chinese occupation of Tibet. An hour later new signs appeared, printed to look as though they were homemade. Those called for the withdrawal of U.S. troops from South Korea.

  The weather had warmed and turned the snow to slush underfoot. Nick and the others waited where East Street intersected 17th on the west side of the White House grounds. The Secret Service wasn't happy about their presence but there wasn't much they could do about it. Rice wanted Nick and the others on hand and that was the end of it.

  Movable barriers manned by city police blocked all the cross streets. Ambassador Li would come up 17th from Constitution Avenue, avoiding the growing mob on Pennsylvania Avenue. From there he would enter the White House grounds on E, turn onto West Executive Avenue and go through the Southwest appointment gate, continuing until he reached the entrance to the West Wing.

  Selena was already inside. Agents had taken her straight to the situation room, where President Rice would take Zhang's call.

  Nick and Ronnie stood watching the scene. Lamont walked over, his hands crammed deep in the pockets of his coat. He wore a woolen watch cap and had a thick scarf wrapped around his neck.

  "I feel like a fifth wheel," he said. "They don't want us here."

  He gestured at two Secret Service agents nearby. They looked as though they'd sprung from the same pod, both hatless and wearing dark overcoats, polished shoes spattered by slush, sunglasses and earpieces trailing white, coiled cords from their ears. They did their best to ignore Nick and the others. The feeling was mutual.

  "You can't blame them," Nick said. "They've got their job to do. As far as they're concerned, we're just one more thing to keep an eye on."

  Ronnie said. "At least most of the crowd is out front."

  Lamont pointed at a growing crowd of about a hundred people standing on the other side of the police barrier where E Street intersected 17th before it entered the White House grounds.

  "Yeah, but some of them figured out that the action might be down here."

  "They look cold," Ronnie said. "Check out the Asian guy standing in front. He's bundled up like he thinks he's in Alaska."

  One of the Secret Service agents touched his earpiece and said something. He and his partner looked south toward Constitution Avenue.

  "Heads up,"
Nick said. "The Chinese ambassador is getting close."

  A black limousine turned onto 17th Street. Flags of the Chinese People's Republic flew from the front fenders. Across the way, there was a ripple in the crowd waiting on the other side of the barrier. They began shouting and waving signs.

  "Free Tibet! Free Tibet! Free Tibet!"

  The limousine slowed to turn onto the White House grounds. The bundled man Ronnie had pointed out suddenly leapt over the portable barrier. He ran toward the car, threw himself on the hood, and vanished in a violent explosion of sound and flame.

  The blast knocked Nick off his feet. The wreckage of the limo coasted a few feet and stopped. A great balloon of black smoke billowed up toward the gray sky overhead.

  Nick braced his hand on the wet ground and got up on one knee. Lamont stumbled over and helped him up. He was saying something. Nick watched his lips move but couldn't hear anything.

  Nick pointed at his ear. "I can't hear you." His voice was a muffled echo inside his head.

  The smoking remains of the ambassador's limousine looked as though someone had reached down with a giant hand and ripped it open. The top was peeled back like the lid of a tin can. Nothing remained of the interior but twisted metal coated with blood and bits of flesh. The doors were blown open. An unattached foot wearing a shiny shoe lay nearby on the pavement. Blood trickled from the open doors.

  There were flecks of blood on Nick's coat. Across the way, some of the demonstrators stood dazed while others moved aimlessly in shock. Someone was on her knees, crying. There were bodies lying on the ground. One of the Secret Service agents was down, his partner yelling into his microphone.

  Somewhere, a siren sounded.

  CHAPTER 3

  In a secure Moscow enclave reserved for high-ranking government officials, General Alexei Ivanovitch Vysotsky was having an uneasy dream, watching a huddle of men whispering about him. They kept glancing in his direction, giving him unfriendly looks. One of them took an old-fashioned phone from his pocket with a rotary dial and spun the dial with his finger. The phone made a persistent buzzing noise.