Operation Hail Storm

by Brett Arquette

  Victor kept his foot pegged to the accelerator. He fully understood that in the next few seconds his head would catch a volley of lead and he would be dead before he even knew what hit him. But what actually hit him was heat. An enormous fireball erupted just above and behind him. He could feel his neck and the back of his head prick and tingle as the flames tried to catch him. The sound was so loud and the shockwave was so close he nearly drove off the road. But luck was with him on that night. The fireball faded and condensed in Victor’s rearview mirror, leaving black smoke that had dissipated into the jungle before Kornev had made his next turn.

  What it was, Kornev may never know. But this wasn’t the airstrike that his friendly caller had warned him about. This was something entirely different and unique. This was something that Kornev wanted to get his hands on.

  The White House Situation Room—Washington, D.C.

  The president was beginning to get antsy. For the last hour, they had all been staring at a black screen that had four white dots arranged in a box pattern. Four dots of light she was told were the four lights that were mounted on the corners of the warehouse in North Korea. But from the satellite image, little else could be seen. If she stared long enough, she supposed she could make out a color difference between the dots, a little lighter shade of black that would have been the roof of the warehouse. But she knew that it really didn’t matter what was on the screen as long as it was indeed the warehouse that housed the missile parts. Other than that, they were all waiting for the four white dots to turn into a single massive white and red and blue blob that would indicate that Marshall Hail had done what he said he would do.

  “It is 3:50 a.m. Pyongyang Time,” General Ford announced to the room. “Our jet fighter is in the air and should be on time, if there are no unexpected complications.”

  “Like he gets shot out of the air before he gets there?” suggested the director of the FBI, Trevor Rodgers.

  “No, like Hail blows the place up in the next ten minutes,” the general replied.

  “If he is going to blow up the place, then he is certainly cutting it close,” the CIA man, Jarret Pepper said.

  “Why would he cut it so close?” the president asked.

  No one answered.

  The president looked at all the men’s faces in the room. Some looked away. Some pretended to be looking at the four white dots on the screen, and the few others looked down at the table.

  “None of you told him about the back-up plan, did you?” the president asked.

  Silence.

  “Why not?” the president asked, her tone dry and accusatory.

  Both the general and Pepper began to answer at the same time.

  The general stopped talking first which left Pepper to answer the question.

  Pepper started over.

  “I gave permission to Kara to tell Hail if she thought it was necessary. After all, Hail doesn’t have any live bodies near the warehouse. Kara reported to me that the entire mission is being executed using drones. Most of them are probably disposable drones. She also told me that Hail’s timetable was 3:00 a.m., which means that he is either running late or he has failed.”

  “I still like the notion of plausible deniability,” the president warned her staff. “I wanted the use of our military as a last resort, not as the first resort if Hail was running a little late.”

  She looked at the men with unabashed disdain.

  “Don’t you think it would have made more sense to coordinate our back-up plan with Hail?” she asked.

  The general answered, “But we just don’t know Hail well enough to know how he would react to that suggestion. Once we told him about it, if he disagreed and we still went forward with the plan, it could get ugly.”

  “Ugly how?” the president asked.

  “If we wanted to use Hail in the future, then that might tarnish the relationship. And if we really made him mad, then—” the general let his sentence go, deciding that getting into deep waters at this point was counterproductive.

  The president composed herself. She smiled. Her smile was just for show and everyone in the room knew it.

  “I count on all of you to make the correct decisions in matters such as these. I’m neither a military person nor a warrior, but I do have common sense. And my common sense tells me that we’re making a mistake by not coordinating our efforts with Marshall Hail concerning our back-up plan. But I will defer to all of your years of experience and expertise in the area of warfare.”

  Just as the president completed her speech, the dark screen in the dim room turned white and blue and yellow. There was no sound, just the vivid colors as they danced across the clean shiny surface of the conference room table, the burst of light temporarily blinding those who had been staring directly at the dark screen.

  *_*_*

  Hail saw the door open and Kara walked back into the mission center.

  She walked up to Hail and asked, “Did I miss anything?”

  Hail considered telling her that he tried to kill Kornev, but since he had failed, he simply told her no.

  “But I’m glad you are back in time to see the big boom,” Hail told her.

  Hail looked at BEP’s video feed and was comforted to see that the missile section had been dropped off and the driver and truck were gone. The warehouse doors had been wheeled shut and the warehouse was quiet once again. The last Thing holding one of the nine shaped charges had been flown up onto the new missile section, and now all of the explosive drones were in place.

  “Knox,” Hail said, “Turn Blondie’s microphone back on.”

  Alex Knox reached over and unmuted the mic on Blondie, and the cricket noise jumped back into the room.

  Hail then looked over in Renner’s direction and gave a nod.

  Renner, who had been waiting for Hail to give the signal, called out to his Thing pilots, “Fingers over your DESTRUCT icons and wait for my countdown.”

  If there was any part of the mission that Hail thought was low-tech, this was it. He would have preferred that all the DESTRUCT salvos to all the drones had been synchronized into one switch, but there were too many drones, too much programming, and too little time to put all that together. Therefore, the last step in the mission would rely on twelve fingers pressing twelve icons that looked like a pack of dynamite on twelve separate screens. A little too soon, and one premature detonation could knock the drones off the top of the missile parts, and the shape charges would have no effect. A little late and the exact same thing could happen.

  “We will do this exactly as we trained. On zero, we will all press at the same time,” Renner instructed.

  Renner looked at Hail, and Hail gave him another nod and smiled.

  Renner began the countdown.

  “Five, four, three, two, one, ZERO!”

  Hail watched Black Eyed Peas’ video signal turn red and then disappear. BEP’s mother drone, Electric Light Orchestra, was vaporized at the same instant, and by default, all the communications were automatically routed over to Blondie. Along with his crew, Hail watched the destruction from both Blondie’s and Men at Work’s video cameras.

  Minutes before the blast, Renner had flown Sex Pistols and landed it atop the roof of the warehouse. That drone had been destroyed along with the others. Hundreds of rounds of spare ammunition that had been attached to Sex Pistols had been thrown into the air and were falling like metal rain around the ruins.

  It was breathtaking. The sound, even over the mission center’s small speakers, was immense. The crew could actually feel the power of the blast as a low rumble distorted the mid tones and the screeching highs fluctuated wildly throughout the room. The view from both surviving cameras was overwhelming. It looked more like a nuclear explosion than a conventional blast. The shaped charges directed their energy straight down. When the shockwave could no longer penetrate the earth, it rebounded and went straight up and out making a mushroom cloud.

  Men at Work fell over on its side as the shockwave bl
ew past it and continued on out into the North Korean countryside. Blondie’s camera shuttered, went white, went black and then came back online in time to see the aftermath, a roaring fire that was consuming anything that was left to burn. The building was no longer there. All that was left were dozens of fiery piles of parts and crates, office furniture and mangled pieces no longer recognizable. A moment later, a secondary explosion puffed fire out in all directions and another shockwave shook Blondie’s camera.

  “Oh my God!” Kara said.

  “Oh my God, indeed,” Hail agreed.

  Renner had a huge smile on his face.

  Hail looked around the room and everyone had the exact same smile. Hail realized that he was smiling as well.

  “You did it,” Kara told him. “You really did it.”

  “I can’t believe you had any doubts,” Hail responded with a degree of cockiness.

  As the sound of the blast faded, a voice came over the mission room speakers. Hail recognized it as Dallas Stone, who was in the ship’s security office.

  “Marshall, Prince’s radar has detected a fast-moving aircraft approaching our position.”

  “Do we have an ID on it?” Hail asked.

  “Checking now, but it is supersonic and flying low. That would constitute an attack profile.”

  The crew’s joy dissipated quickly and the room quieted down so Hail could talk to Stone.

  There was a moment of silence and then Stone came back on the speaker.

  “It’s ICAO designator ping is showing as United States military—”

  A beat and then Stone continued, “Designator F35. I’m cross checking that ICAO code now.”

  A moment later, “Its ICAO ping says it is a United States F-35 Lightning Two. Range of seventy-five miles and heading straight for us.”

  Hail looked at Kara for a moment, and she shrugged.

  “Activate the railgun,” Hail told Dallas.

  “Wait,” Kara said, placing her hand on Hail’s shoulder. “I need to tell you something.”

  “And what would that be?” Hail asked her, even though he already knew her secret, and understood the intentions of the inbound jet.

  Kara looked him directly in the eyes and said, “The United States has a back-up plan in case you were not successful in your mission.”

  “And what would that be?” Hail asked in a calm and controlled tone.

  “That jet is flying a single sortie to blow up the warehouse, if you had failed to do so. It’s not coming for you, so you can put your big gun away.”

  Kara thought that Hail looked angry, but not as angry as she would have expected.

  He said, “Do you realize how dangerous that is? It’s dangerous for everyone.”

  “I understand,” Kara said, but Hail didn’t believe her.

  “We could have shot this asshole out of the sky before he ever made a pass on the warehouse.”

  “I understand,” Kara said. She averted her eyes away from Hail’s and back to the screen that showed the burning warehouse.

  Hail asked her, “If this is a back-up plan, then why hasn’t this guy turned around and gone home?”

  Kara looked back up at Hail and looked perplexed, as if she hadn’t thought of that fact. “I don’t know. Maybe he hasn’t gotten the word yet.”

  “Then maybe you should get on the horn with your boss and make sure this guy gets called off before he wakes up every radar and anti-aircraft battery in North Korea. I don’t know if you realize it, but we’re pretty exposed right here in the middle of the Sea of Japan.”

  Hail handed Kara his phone. “We don’t have time for you to go to the top deck. Use my phone,” Hail told her.

  The White House Situation Room—Washington, D.C.

  P

  epper’s phone went off, and he saw it was a call coming from Hail. He answered it. “This is Pepper,” he said.

  “This is Kara,” said a concerned voice.

  “Great job, Kara. We just saw the warehouse blow up. Really great job!”

  “If you just saw it blow up, why is your jet still headed toward North Korea?”

  Pepper was confused. “There is no jet headed for North Korea. As soon as the general saw the explosion, he called Naval Operations and told them to scrub the mission.”

  “Well, Hail’s radar shows an F-35 inbound and it is not turning back. If I hadn’t told Hail what it was, he may have taken it down.”

  “He has the armaments to do that?” Pepper asked, truly surprised.

  “That’s not the point,” Kara said angrily. “The point is you need to get this guy turned around before he wakes up all of North Korea.”

  “I’m on it,” Pepper said, and he hung up. He turned toward the general, who was also on his cellphone.

  The general cupped the bottom half of his phone. He told Pepper, “It looks like we have a rogue pilot on our hands.”

  “Damn,” Pepper said, at a loss for words.

  They both looked across the room at the president, who was shaking hands and basking in the glory of the mission. At least, for the moment, she looked very happy.

  Over the Sea of Japan—on the F-35C Lightning II Jet Aircraft

  L

  ieutenant Commander Foster Nolan was crazy. And, to be honest with himself, he understood his men thought he was crazy. But he also felt that there was nothing crazy about just doing his job.

  Even though he had already been notified that the target had been neutralized, there was certainly no reason not to take a look-see. The F-35 was one of the fastest and most advanced jet fighters in the world. A quick in-and-out should not be a problem. Dart in to verify the target was totally destroyed and then run for the ocean. Unless of course, he found other targets of strategic value during his confirmation pass. If that were the case, and he thought it was in America’s best interest to cut loose, that action should not slow him down in the least. With the exception of China, the North Koreans had not been a friend or ally to any nation. So, he didn’t have an issue getting a little payback for his country and for his brother.

  The lieutenant commander’s radio squawked to life.

  “Lieutenant Commander Nolan, you are directed to immediately turn around and return to the carrier. I repeat you are ordered to turn around and return to the ship, immediately. That is a direct order. Is that understood?”

  Foster Nolan reached over and flipped off the radio. In military speak, “that is a direct order” still left some wiggle room. Many pilots had received orders, yet stayed a bit longer, and had still kept their jobs. This would be one of those missions. He might get called onto the carpet, but he had a rock-solid record, and one little indiscretion shouldn’t bring down the house. And then there were the practical aspects of the mission. After all, how much could they actually see from outer space? For all they knew, a sewer plant had a gas build-up and had then ignited. A chemical factory had mixed Tank A with the wrong Tank C and Tank B had exploded. Witnessing a blast from outer space was like watching a hockey game on TV. You never saw the puck. Foster would check it out and make sure that the warehouse he was supposed to destroy had indeed been fully neutralized. Or else he would finish the job. Maybe even find a secondary target of value.

  Sea of Japan—Aboard the Hail Nucleus

  D

  allas Stone’s voice came over the mission center speakers. “The F-35 is turning west. If it maintains its current course, it will be flying over the North Korean mainland in under five minutes.”

  “Gage, please patch my phone into the speakers so we can all hear,” Hail asked his friend.

  Renner did some computer voodoo, and Kara’s private conversation with Pepper became public. Hail held out his hand and Kara placed his phone in it.

  “This is Hail,” he began, talking through the microphones in the room. “What the hell is going on with your F-35? Are you guys crazy? This moron jet pilot is going to bring a load of heat down on us and for absolutely no reason.” Hail was mad and his tone did nothing to dis
guise that fact.

  In contrast, Pepper’s tone was contrite. “We know. It would appear that we’re having a possible communications problem with our Navy pilot, or there may be an issue that’s out of our control.”

  Hail looked at Kara and she looked back at him with a blank expression. “What issue are you talking about?” Hail demanded.

  Pepper paused for a moment, and Hail sensed the news was going to be even worse than he had anticipated. “We may have a rogue pilot on our hands,” Pepper said shamefully.

  “Jesus,” Hail groaned.

  Kara looked both sickened and ashamed.

  “Hold for a second,” Hail told Pepper.

  Hail pressed the mute button on his phone and turned to Renner. “Get us the hell out of here. Let’s head south at best speed.”

  “Absolutely,” Renner agreed.

  Hail unmuted his phone and let it fall back into his lap, unsure what was left to be said. As far as he was concerned, Pepper, and for that matter, the entire Washington entourage had screwed him. They could have easily told him about their back-up plan, but they chose not to. And to Marshall Hail, that meant they had purposely put him and his crew in danger. Hail chastised himself for not taking Renner’s advice to carry out the mission from Indonesian waters. They could have launched the drones from the Hail Laser’s catapult and still have run the operation a thousand miles away. So, there was enough blame to go around, but if Pepper and his tribe hadn’t put a crazy pilot into the air, then the mission would have played out exactly as planned.

  “Are you still there?” Pepper asked.

  “Yeah,” Hail said. He said Yeah like it was a cuss word. “But I don’t know what we have to talk about. We’re bugging out. This pilot thing is your mess, not mine.”

  Pepper didn’t say anything, so Hail pressed the END button on his phone.

  “Let’s finish this,” Hail told Renner.

  Renner returned to his control station and accessed the drone called Men at Work.