He was answered by a half-dozen, semi-audible rumblings of “No, sir,” and “Can’t be, sir,” and “Of course not, sir.”
Cooper snorted in disgust. “Well? Who wants to weigh in next?”
He directed his scorn at the Director of National Intelligence, Nancy Wiggins, a middle-aged woman with thinning black hair cut in a sharp angled bob. She wore bright red lipstick and had the pale skin of someone who spent twenty hours a day staring at a computer screen. “Care to say anything intelligent about this, Wiggins?”
She cleared her throat and pushed her eyebrows together. “We’ve just received the report from the Joint Chiefs, Mr. President. I wish we had it earlier, but our analysts are tearing into it now. At first glance I agree with you. There’s no such thing as coincidence in the intelligence world. Especially not when events correlate on each data point like this.”
“Well, at least one person is not afraid to officially weigh in. Recommendations?”
Wiggins continued to take the lead. “We’re already in communication with many of our traditional allies, and we’re considering reaching out to a few of our adversaries. I’ll need your permission to open a dialog directly with the SSC and OSAC, however,” she said, referring to the Sino-Soviet Coalition and the Organization of South American Cartels.
“For what purpose?”
“We anticipate a need for local cooperation in some of the affected population centers where we don’t have intelligence assets in place.”
“What about satellite surveillance?”
“That’s not an option. The storms are causing heavy interference.”
“With all of them?”
“Yes sir. Even ultraviolet and radar. Everything’s affected.”
“How is that possible? I thought the new network was impervious to bad weather.”
“It is,” she said, coughing. “Excuse me, it was. We’re not sure what’s happening.”
The President shook his head, trying to make sense of the information. “So let me get this straight. We spent well over ninety billion in new upgrades, and now we’re blind and susceptible to attack?”
“Unfortunately, yes. Everywhere except over the oceans.”
“That’s unacceptable!”
“I agree. But our adversaries are blind, too.”
“That’s not going to make me sleep any better tonight, Wiggins.”
“We’re on it, sir. NSA has their top-level techs working to determine the root cause. However, it should be noted some of the civilian Internet is acting up, too. The failures are random and spotty in nature, but the difficulties are making connections to areas outside of our secure IntellaWeb network unreliable. I’m assuming we’re not going to open our secure network to the public, leaving us with blind spots across the globe. Gathering reliable information from the affected areas will be problematic. As mentioned by General Rawlings, we suspect there may be something in the air mass causing the interference with the satellites and affecting certain areas of the public network. We think it’s some type of strong electromagnetic field, but we can’t be sure.”
“Why not?”
“Launching an instrument pack into a storm cloud won’t work. They use computer-based electronics and after the problems we’ve seen with our jets and helos, it seems likely they would be disabled immediately upon penetration.”
“You mean to tell me that all our advanced surveillance and scientific instruments are useless?”
“That would be my guess, sir.”
“I don’t want guesses, Wiggins! I want answers!”
“We’re on it, sir. However, until our satellite coverage is back online and the civilian network becomes more stable, we’ll need to open communications with everyone in the affected areas to gather local information as to the size and nature of this event.”
“Granted. But how, if satellite coverage is down?”
“All communications will need to be over land-based copper, or we’ll need to use line of sight, low-altitude transmissions. Nothing seems capable of penetrating these storms.”
Cooper understood. “We go old school.”
“Yes sir.”
“Okay, do what you need to do, but I want information from our end kept on a strictly need-to-know basis. The last thing we need is word getting out about our UAVs being involved in this.”
Wiggins nodded, but wasn’t done. “We should also consider creating a grid of floating, ocean-based repeaters to allow long range transmissions, while we still can. We don’t know the scope or length of this event, and it would seem wise to get a jump on this while it’s still possible. We may need it later.”
“Excellent idea. Make it so, Nancy.”
“Sir?” Grant Channing, the Secretary of State spoke up. “We need to address the possibility that this event is going to turn into a lingering global crisis, the likes of which we’ve never seen or imagined. We could be exposed to more than just a security threat here.”
“Go on.”
“I’m no meteorologist, or biologist for that matter, but my gut is telling me that if these storms do indeed continue to spread, then we run the risk of them blocking out the sun. If that happens for a prolonged period—well, sir, let’s just say, it could affect the world’s food supply. But I’d like to hear what the experts have to say. We’ll need to bring the FDA and other agricultural agencies into the loop.”
“Fine, Grant. Duly noted. I trust your gut,” President Cooper said, turning his eyes to the head of the National Weather Service. “Bob, I’m sorry we had to keep you in the dark about the classified weather projects before tonight. But you’re a civilian, understand? Everything has been need-to-know, until now, Perkins.”
“I understand, Mr. President, and I appreciate your confidence in me today. To be honest, sir, it’s not like we haven’t known things were happening in the shadows. Especially after we noticed the blanket recruitment of our top minds, after which they’d fall off the radar. It became pretty obvious something was up. Anyway—I’m not here to raise issue with your procurement policies. I’m here to tell you these air masses are like nothing we’ve seen before. They came out of nowhere and they’re not behaving like any storm we’ve encountered. I know this will sound crazy, but it’s like they have a mind of their own, focusing on a specific agenda.”
“Explain—”
“The jet stream, sir—it’s not affecting it,” the scientist said, looking flustered and embarrassed at not being able to offer any more insight. “These storms are breaking every rule known to weather sciences. We’re going to have to throw out all the manuals and textbooks after this one. The people at NASA seem to have made an interesting discovery, though.”
The President raised his eyebrows, looking at the NASA director’s holo-image. “Really? I’d love to hear it. Gene?”
“That’s correct, Mr. President,” answered Gene Rogers, the Director of NASA. “You’ve heard that the rain is slightly thicker than normal rain. For lack of a better word, it’s syrupy. Thicker than water and it seems to be slowly coagulating, like some type of biological substance. We’ve been studying its characteristics.”
“And?” the President asked.
“Indeterminate. All we know so far is it contains an unknown biological component, sir,” Rogers offered. “Something we’ve never seen or catalogued before.”
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying? Extraterrestrial?”
Gene’s eyes flew wide and his voice cracked. “No sir. Nothing of the kind. It’s an organic substance with DNA-like properties, but it’s nothing from beyond our world. It’s terrestrial in nature, that much I can assure you, Mr. President.”
“That’s good news, Gene,” President Cooper said. “Otherwise, I’d have to start to wonder if we’re all unwitting characters in some low-budget science fiction movie.”
A smattering of laughter was heard from most in attendance.
“Is there more, Gene?”
Gene nodded. “Granted, this
substance is something entirely new, but we’re still investigating. We’ve been able to determine there’s also a ferro-chemical component in the rain, but we’re unsure of its exact nature or purpose. I’ve got our finest minds working on it as we speak. But until we know if it’s natural or manmade, it’s best if everyone not jump to conclusions.”
“Has anyone talked to Dr. Cruz at the CDC?” the President asked the group. “We’ll need to rule out some new type of pandemic, though I’m not sure that’s the correct term to use here. But Ray needs to be read in.”
“I’ll make the call,” Amanda said, taking notes. A moment later, her expression changed to one of concern. “Just so everyone knows, I tried to get Dr. Cruz and a few others to join this conference earlier, but couldn’t make contact. I’m guessing that everyone is scrambling.”
The President knew she was lying about trying to contact the various division heads and directors who should have already been attending this meeting. It was his fault they weren’t invited and she was covering for him. The knot in his stomach was growing, affecting his back and right leg.
Cooper pushed through the discomfort and was about to relay more orders to the staff when the lights in the situation room flickered, then dimmed. The holograms around the table froze in mid-expression, leaving the President and his Chief of Staff alone.
“What’s going on? Amanda?”
She didn’t answer.
At the far end of the conference table, a new hologram appeared—Vito Indigo, wearing his trademark casual Caribbean attire.
He flashed his billion dollar smile and said, “Good evening, Mr. President.”
“Vito? What’s going on? You can’t just crash a meeting of the NSC!”
“Well, with all due respect, Mr. President, I just did. I warned you about the need to upgrade your security protocols. You should have listened. I could’ve solved the problem months ago for you. I even gave you killer pricing, but nobody seemed interested.”
“Is that what this is about? I’ve got my hands full, Indigo, and I don’t have time for your crooning today. You need to sign off and restore the holo-feeds with my staff, and I mean now!”
“Well Coop, as usual you seem to have forgotten a few things. First, my generous contributions to your campaign put you in office. Second, my Internet technology makes everything in your world of espionage and deceit—and I mean everything—possible. Without my fully redundant, self-healing private network, you wouldn’t be having this meeting. So let’s check the attitude, shall we, for the sake of humanity? It’s clear you’re facing events you can’t fathom or control.”
“Listen, Vito, I don’t care about any of that now. I have a national crisis on my hands, which is about to turn into a worldwide crisis with everyone pointing their fingers at us. Or didn’t you notice?”
“That’s precisely my point, Mr. President. I’m here to offer my services.”
“Can you stop this?”
Indigo laughed. “No, Mr. President. I’m afraid that’s beyond even my company’s abilities. But I have a good idea who started it, and how it was done.”
“You do?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Well out with it, man, I don’t have all day.”
“Certainly, but there’s one condition.”
“I know, Vito. Money. Lots of it. What’s it going to cost me this time?”
“You’ve got it all wrong, Coop. This information is free of charge.”
“Finally, some good news today. But I have to ask, why?”
“Because the threat we’re currently facing as a nation takes priority over my need to generate a healthy windfall for my shareholders. I say this because if we don’t join together and solve this, and soon, there will be no shareholders or country or planet to worry about.”
“A bit melodramatic, don’t you think?”
“Do you want my help or not, Coop?”
“All right, what’s the condition?”
“I’d like to remain online for the rest of your briefing. Having access to the latest intel will allow me to bring my considerable resources to bear and offer a possible solution when the time is right. Now I expect some of your staff will have issues with a non-vetted civilian attending this conference, so it’s best if my presence here today remains anonymous. What they don’t know won’t hurt them. Or you, for that matter. Do we have a deal?”
President Cooper chewed his lower lip, considering the offer. “Amanda? Wanna weigh in on this?”
“Sir, Mr. Indigo has been nothing but a trusted friend to us over the years. His generous contributions to your campaign, combined with his unprecedented access to all the information flowing across his networks, made our push for office a success. We have no reason not to believe he has anything but your best interests, and the best interests of this country, at heart.”
“Thank you, Ms. Murray. I’m touched by your faith in me,” Indigo said, swinging his eyes and giving the president a wide smile. “Most people regard me as an eccentric billionaire and prefer to take a wide berth when they see me coming. Only a few recognize that at my core, I’m a true patriot and a champion for freedom. That’s why I’m here. To help in any way I can. For the future of our country and for humanity.”
“Spare me the histrionics, Indigo. You have a deal, but now it’s time to live up to your end. Give me the name of the person who fostered this crisis.”
“It was Hansen. Jeffrey Hansen.”
President Cooper gasped when all his thoughts focused on Jeffrey Hansen. The man held advanced degrees in Chemistry, Engineering, and Biology and was the Founder and CEO of RaineTech, the publicly-traded defense contractor working on scores of top secret projects funded by the government for decades. RaineTech had been tasked with developing advanced civilian and military applications, everything from the SMART bio-reactive-software that controlled all US drones to the advanced radar-defeating polymers used in the latest class of nuclear submarines.
If Hansen had turned on them, things were much worse than Cooper first thought.
Much, much worse.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Wyatt Wickie watched as the doors of the van sitting in front of him opened—first the driver’s door, then the passenger’s door. He hoped one of the occupants was his big sister, though he didn’t recognize the new model cargo van.
He didn’t have to wait long for an answer when a slender figure stepped out and walked toward him with its arms held in a Y symbol. He smiled. There was no mistaking Tally, he thought, even without the response signal. The hoodie, the walk—it was all there and filled with her trademark body language. But there was someone else approaching with her, and it wasn’t one of recruited techie kids he’d heard about. It was a grown man—tall, stocky, and walking with a limp. He was hunched over a bit and appeared to be holding his ribs.
“Sis must have hit him with the van,” he mumbled, knowing she’d stop to help any stranger in need, especially someone she’d run over. Of course, there was another explanation. She may have started recruiting old people, realizing that Wyatt had been right all along—you can’t run a secure, efficient compound with a bunch of snot-noses.
“You men stay here, but stay alert,” he said to the four gunmen he’d brought along with him. They were all dressed in black-on-black paramilitary garb, something he preferred all his men wear at his camp, nicknamed Jericho. A much better name than his sister’s, Pandora.
He took three steps forward, placing himself in the middle of the road. Tally and her companion stopped five yards short of his position. Her trademark hoodie obscured her face in shadows from the competing headlights, and the man had a scraggly beard and long hair.
“Hiya sis,” he said in a cordial tone, peering inside to see her eyes. “Long time no see.” He wanted to start the conversation off on a good note. Tally was stubborn as a mule and easily riled. If he wasn’t careful, she’d put up her emotional walls, and he’d never convince her to listen.
“H
i Stretch,” Tally replied in a steadfast tone, missing any measure of emotion. “Been what? A year?”
“Try to contain your excitement, please. It’s overwhelming.”
She shook her head, looking at the old guy standing with her for a moment, then back at Wyatt. “What are you doing here, Stretch?”
“Just want to chat, sis.”
“About what?
He leaned to the right, looking past her. “Nice van. Is it new?”
She nodded. “Leased it last month. Always wanted a new one.”
“Looks like you have plenty of room for all the kiddies,” he said, not able to hold back a smile. “I see you went all out on the color, too.”
“Hey, what’s wrong with white?”
“Nothing, if you’re working in a hospital.”
“Look, it’s new. It runs and the heater and A/C blow like crazy. I don’t need anything fancy. I prefer practical and reliable. It’s better than the ancient sleds you’re driving. What are those, Chevys from the seventies?”
He scoffed. “Sixties, actually. Classics. Much more dependable than the new crap they’re cranking out now, and easier to work on, too. All the electronics and the smog control shit just gets in the way.”
“Is this what you wanted to chat about, Wyatt? My new van?”
“Well, no. Not exactly.”
“I figured as much. You never do anything without a plan. How did ya know to be here, on this road, at this exact moment in time? Or do you just think you rule the county now?”
“I called your place earlier and talked to that squirrelly kid of yours, Dre. Why you have that odd duck answering the radio is beyond me. Anyway, he told me you took a trip down to DC and said you’d be back tonight. This road is the only logical way back from the south. So here I am.”
“Yup. Here you are. Setting up a roadblock on a public road, trying to act like you own the world. So what happened? Did the United States of Wyatt Wickie finally secede from the Union? Oh wait, I almost forgot. It’s called Jericho now.
“Mock me all you want, but it’s a much better name than Pandora. I mean, come on. Really?”
Redfall: Fight for Survival (American Prepper Series Book 1) Page 9
