Critical Error

by Murray Mcdonald

  As they pulled up alongside, the beach and the gulf waters lay to their left. Zak whistled quietly to himself as he watched a stunning woman rinse the sand and salt from her body. Her head was thrown back as she let the fresh water rinse her dark hair that shone in the early morning sun. The Sheikh could not help but notice too. She was a true beauty, he thought, very Middle Eastern. Her curves were womanly, not girly like so many Americans. That was a real woman. She rubbed her face and swept her hair back, allowing Zak a look at the babe’s face. He was not disappointed. The Sheikh, however was panicking. He knew he recognized the body. He had seen the face before and almost screamed for Zak to hit the gas.

  A non-descript motel in the heart of Corpus Christi it was.

  Chapter 85

  Only two good things had come from his conversation with Ben. Confirmation he could appoint his new Secretary of Defense and a solid lead to track down the bomb. The announcement of the Secretary of Defense’s tragic death and the President’s first appointee, he was delighted to see, was buried amongst the shocking news from Israel and the continuing solar flare problem which had grounded the world’s airlines. The Israeli headline had shocked the world. Four nuclear weapons were believed to be imminently endangering the country that the world had heard so little from in the past months and years. A mass exodus of the cities was apparently underway but the country remained sealed and no foreign news crews were allowed in.

  The President checked his watch. It would be another 24 hours before they would consider evacuations. At the moment, they didn’t know if there was a bomb or if there was, where it was going other than to the US. Best guesses were Washington, New York, Chicago or LA but they simply didn’t know. However, with their latest information from Ben, LA was definitely ruled out. All the others were still in play.

  The President joined his National Security Council and listened as his newly appointed Secretary of Defense ran through what they had done with Ben’s information. Unbeknownst to the new Secretary of Defense, not as far as his predecessor had managed to get, the previous evening, with just a phone. They were, however, now targeting a further 500 vessels that had previously been excluded as not reaching the US in time.

  “Mr President, we have almost half our ocean-going Navy, some 150 vessels currently covering our Eastern seaboard, along with pretty much every aircraft whether naval, Air Force or National Guard on round the clock watch. We will catch this,” assured the Secretary of Defense.

  Henry Preston sat and listened and couldn’t help but think of the clutter that must be caused by such a massive operation. It only needed one tiny slip and an American city would pay the ultimate price.

  Akram Rayyan watched as his men unloaded two containers into the Canadian port of St John. He had quietened down his men as a cheer had gone up over the news of the Israelis running for cover. He knew that his men couldn’t be prouder of being part of an operation that was teaching the Jews and her allies a lesson they’d never forget. He had also noted the significant increase in naval checks. The port was awash with the stories of checks even if you were going near America. He couldn’t help but think somehow their plan had got out.

  Deif was a genius, however, and had covered just such an eventuality. Akram’s route ensured he would still be within Canadian waters when the weapon was launched. As the crane swung back on board, his men cast away and began the final leg of their momentous journey. Just to be safe, Akram instructed a trip round the North of Newfoundland. It would take longer but he had a few hours to spare and it would also mean a much calmer journey. It would also keep them even further away from the Americans while they got into position.

  There would be no more drills. The next time they got ready would be for real. Akram looked at his watch. Twenty-four hours to go.

  Chapter 86

  The pace at the White House was frantic. The Situation Room had become the emergency planning center as the hours clocked down. 6 a.m., twelve hours to potential detonation and they were no further forward. The President had to make a decision — begin the evacuation of major metropolitan centers or not. Time already had run too far to save everyone. If New York, Washington or Chicago were the targets, the death-toll was still running into the tens of thousands with the evacuation. Without that, the number was ten-fold and was if the weapon were released at approximately 2,000 feet above central Manhattan, there would be two million dead. The numbers were mind numbing.

  The President’s advisers were coming out of the woodwork, giving reasons to evacuate and reasons not to. However, the reasons not to were dwindling. Yes, mass hysteria would lead to deaths, There’d be looting and civil unrest and general chaos but the 2 million number was stark and staring. His political adviser was firmly of the opinion that, if it hit, he was screwed anyway and evacuating lots of cities, just in case, looked like a President who had no idea what was going on. His best option and the one he’d be able to milk for votes was finding it and then claiming they had tracked it all the way and only struck when the terrorists had made their move so as to ensure their convictions.

  “Mr President, I need your answer, Sir,” insisted Jim Gates, the Secretary of Homeland Security, who had his FEMA Administrator on the phone and needed to give him the President’s decision.

  The President turned to Henry Preston and his Secretary of Defense. “Gentlemen, are you going to let our country be the victim of another nuclear attack?”

  Obviously neither could say yes. Henry Preston answered first.

  “No, Sir, we will not!” he replied adamantly followed by a “Hell no!” from the Secretary of Defense.

  “Secretary Gates, you have your answer. I’m assured the weapon will not reach our country. Stand down the evacuation plans.”

  “Gentlemen, I suggest you pull the fingers out of your asses and find that bomb.”

  The President left the room. Had he not he felt sure he was going to puke, the decision he had just made was the biggest gamble of his life and more importantly, his career.

  Senator Charles Baker had kept a close eye on the news. Nothing. They were already beyond the 12-hour countdown. 6 a.m. EST. He didn’t know what it meant. Had they found the bomb and if not, why was there no news of mass evacuations? Surely they should at least attempt to minimize casualties. He called the number Ben had given him. He answered on the second ring.

  “Ben, can you talk?

  “Have to be quick but yes?” said Ben sounding out of breath. He shouted to somebody in the background. “Nope that cabinet first, then this one.” He came back. “Sorry.”

  “Any news on the American bomb?”

  “Nope, nothing at all, they’re still looking.”

  “Christ, they haven’t even begun evacuating!” he exclaimed angrily.

  “I’ll call you back.”

  Ben hung up and called back ten minutes later. “I’ve just spoken to our Ambassador. They’re confident they’ll find it in time.”

  “On what grounds?” questioned the Senator.

  “Exactly,” agreed Ben. “I’ve instructed our embassy staff to evacuate all major consulates and Israeli offices across the eastern seaboard.”

  “You know, Ben, I don’t get it. James Murphy almost had the info to find the boat and he was calling Russia at 4am in the morning.”

  “Why Russia?”

  “I’ve no idea. I just know that’s where his leads led him!”

  The Senator could sense that Ben hadn’t heard him. Banging in the background had been followed by a couple of screams in Hebrew that he could only imagine were expletives.

  “I’m sorry Charles, I need to go.”

  Ben hung up, not that Charles could blame him. He had a country and four bombs to worry about, not just one city and one bomb. It did, however, mean one thing. He had to track down the same lead that Murphy had and he had about 11 hours to do it in. He spied Sam lying in the sun, drying off from an early morning swim and went to join him. He briefly recounted his chat with Ben. Sam reacte
d similarly. James Murphy was about to get the name of the ship. How could they not have tracked the same leads as him?

  Both hit their phones. The one thing they did know was that Murphy had started his calls in England. After all, the story had been about the British navy.

  Sam knew some guys in the SBS, the Special Boat Service, the marine equivalent of the better-known British SAS. Most, if not all, were ex-marines and in the UK, the Royal Marines were part of the Navy — it was the closest he could get to the Navy.

  It was proving slow work. Neither Sam nor Charles had the knowledge or list of contacts around the world that James Murphy had. It was going to take some time.

  Chapter 87

  Ben was the last person left in the Knesset building; most had left at lunchtime to travel with their families. Ben had nobody to travel with. His only family were in America, safe in Texas. He closed his office door behind him and automatically began to lock it. He stopped himself mid turn. There was no point, the office was empty. All his papers had already gone. The building was quiet, something he had never experienced before. It wasn’t a nice silence, the eeriness was unnerving.

  He picked up his briefcase and walked towards the exit. One lone guard waited for him. He nodded and shut the door behind Ben. Ben didn’t look back. The image of all that he had achieved in building the State of Israel was captured within that building. He didn’t want to remember it dark and desolate. His memories were of life and vitality. Ben’s car and driver awaited his arrival. The driver had no intention of hanging around and as soon as Ben closed the door, he pulled away. The drive to the airport initially confused Ben until he realized they were going to the new airport, a global hub for a new Jerusalem. That was the plan. Jerusalem was not meant to die. That had never been envisioned. Ararat had planned to place Jerusalem at the center of the world. The buildings that would spark a new life into one of the world’s most important and ancient cities sat empty. Ben could have cried as he sped past. His driver was unaware of Ararat, unaware of the greatness it would bring to Jerusalem. His driver was only aware of the danger that was upon them, the devastation that was scheduled to arrive just three short hours away.

  As they neared the airport, Ben willed his cell phone to ring. The more he willed it, the more dead it seemed. He checked the signal, it was fine. Ahmed Hameed had obviously seen the past and not the future. Ben walked through the airport. Airplanes that had never touched Israeli soil queued to ferry his people away from danger. Emirates and Qatari jets joined Singapore and Thai Jets, Qantas, All Nippon and LAN Airways. Almost every country in the world had supplied their fleets, although unknowingly, to Israel. The solar flare was a story used to ground the airlines and free up the world’s jets for hire. How else could they move so many people so quickly? For months, Israeli Air Force pilots had retrained to fly the commercial aircraft of the world, Boeing 747’s, 777’s and every other type of Boeing, Airbuses, A380 to the A320. Every plane of any size that could be found had been leased, resurrected from mothballing and generally put to use. Over 2,000 aircraft had flown non-stop for the last two days from pretty much every strip of land capable of handling a jet.

  Another ten jets were filled before the last jet pulled up to the gate. Ben and a few stragglers boarded. Many tears were shed as the plane, an EL AL Boeing 747, lifted off. It was the last plane of the night and Ben’s phone still remained silent.

  Chapter 88

  “I’ve got it!” screamed Sam.

  “The name?” asked Charles hopefully.

  “No, the link to Russia!”

  “Oh,” the disappointment was loud and clear.

  “No, I know who he called, we’re getting there!”

  The Senator looked at the clock. There were less than three hours until midnight in Israel, 6pm EST. The time at which the bomb would go off. Even if they got the name of the boat, the chances of finding it now were almost nil.

  Sam dialed the number and as he waited for an answer, he updated his brother. “It seems that the Russian Port of ArchangelSK had an RAF maintenance base. The comic book showed a British convoy heading to Russia and it seems that’s where they found some old equipment. The RAF guy reckons if there’s any old kit around, that’s where you’d find it. After the war, things did sour a little with our Russian allies!”

  The phone eventually answered. “Da?”

  “Hi…?” replied Sam before being interrupted.

  “Don’t hang up this time! I got name you ask for,” replied the Russian shipyard owner.

  Sam couldn’t believe his luck, the Russian thought he was James Murphy calling back.

  “It’s the Sergey Vazlaz. Goodnight!” The Russian hung up, it was almost midnight in ArchangelSK.

  Sam turned to his brother. “The Sergey Vazlav.”

  “That’s it? Nothing else?”

  “Nope, just the name.”

  “Can you track ships?” asked the Senator.

  “I have no idea but I know a woman who might!” Sam leaned out the window and called Rebecca in, bringing her up to speed.

  “The answer is, in theory, yes. As long as they have a transponder, it’s just like aircraft really, they send a signal out and tell others where they are.”

  Both knew about aircraft transponders. Aircraft send out a signal that air traffic controllers use to accurately plot specific aircraft positions.

  “Do all boats have to have one?”

  “Don’t think so. I think it’s just bigger boats but I’m not sure if our guys would have one transmitting.”

  “Oh, they will,” replied Sam. “These guys have fooled everybody, they wouldn’t make a simple mistake like not transponding if they have to. They’d be shining a big spotlight on themselves.”

  “OK, well, we just need a computer then.”

  “We can do it ourselves?” asked the Senator.

  Rebecca was already half way out of the room as the others struggled to catch up. The manager was kindly asked if his computer could be borrowed. Faced with the three very anxious faces of Sam, Charles and Rebecca, he had little choice. He left them to his office and went for a break.

  “You’ve done this before,” stated the Senator.

  “A few times,” replied Rebecca with a smile as she logged onto marinetraffic.com and waited for the map to load.

  “OK, I presume we want the East coast?”

  “Definitely,” replied Sam as a number of boxes appeared on the map next to America, each with a number in the box, signifying how many ships there were in each sector.

  “Jesus, there are hundreds, it’ll take us hours.”

  Rebecca shook her head and selected the ‘Vessel’ tab.

  “What’s the name?”

  Rebecca typed in Sergey Vazlav and the details instantly appeared.

  “Gulf of St Lawrence, Canada.”

  “Holy shit, we did it!”

  “How far are they from New York?” asked Sam, suddenly realizing that was the nearest city.

  “Just over six hundred miles, give or take,” replied Rebecca, roughly working it out.

  “Jesus, they’re just about in range and they’ll come in over land, not from the sea.”

  “I need to use your phone!” The Senator put his hand out to Rebecca. She had assured them earlier that her phone could not be traced or tracked.

  Senator Charles Baker made a phone call that made his stomach churn.

  “I need to speak with the President urgently!” he said as the White House picked up his call.

  As they were retrieving the name of the ship, Akram Rayyan was in the process of making the information irrelevant. They had sailed into the Gulf of St Lawrence and as they approached Prince Edward Island, he had called on his men to make the preparations.

  The World War Two equipment was unloaded and the scaffolding blocks were bolted onto the deck as they had been during all their previous test runs. This time was for real. The empty containers which had blocked the outside world’s view were thrown over
board. They were now redundant. The scaffolding ran for sixty feet along the deck and protruded over the water below. While half the crew prepared the catapult, the other half prepared the aircraft. Two wings were removed from one container while the main body of the aircraft came from another. The Second World War fighter came to life as the wings were bolted on. The weapon had already been stored within the fuselage of the aircraft. What had been a deadly fighter in its day seventy years earlier had become the deadliest aircraft ever made seventy years later.

  The Hawker Sea Hurricane had been devised as a fighter of last resort to protect the vital convoys plying the seas between America, Britain and Russia. It afforded protection to convoys against the marauding Focke-Wulf of the German Luftwaffe. The Hurricanes were flown by very brave pilots who knew there was nowhere to land once they were propelled into the sky. The Allies, without enough ships to launch aircraft, devised the catapult system, similar to the systems used on modern aircraft carriers. Rockets would fire the aircraft from standing to flight speed almost instantly.

  Akram instructed the crew to lift the plane into position. They lifted the relic brought back to life after being found in Malta and guided it carefully onto the runners that now sat on top of the deck. The rocket mechanism was fixed to the base and the thumbs-up signaled around the deck. The plane was ready.

  Everything that had to be said, already had been. The pilot, on seeing the thumbs-up, boarded the aircraft and immediately ignited the old but reliable Rolls Royce Merlin engine. It fired into life and warmed up. Akram instructed the ship to turn into the wind. The pins securing the plane were removed and the pilot applied 30 degree flaps and a 1/3 rudder, just as he had been taught during training. He then opened the throttle to full, pushed his head into the headrest and signaled for the rockets to be fired.