After Roger finished telling about his experience, Jake just sat there, saying ‘holy shit’ over and over.
“Stay here. I’ll be right back,” Jake said. He was back in five minutes.
“The president will see us in a half hour, enough time for two other people to join us.”
I knew he meant CIA Director Carlini and super spook Buster, but I didn’t say anything.
After introductions, our Oval Office meeting began, with Director Bill Carlini speaking first.
“Just a housekeeping matter before we begin. Roger Cramer, I hereby appoint you as Deputy Agent of the Central Intelligence Agency.”
“Wow,” Roger said. “What does that empower me to do?”
“It empowers you to stay out of federal prison. You will exercise that power by keeping your mouth shut about what is said in this meeting. Am I clear?”
“Quite clear, Mr. Director,” Roger said, wiping perspiration off his forehead.
The president then took over the meeting.
“Harry, Meg, I can’t tell you two how great it is to see you again. After my term is up, Dee and I are going to book a vacation at your wonderful Leyte Hall that we’ve heard so much about. Jake Arnold, in his talented way of summarizing matters, has told me and our CIA friends about Mr. Cramer’s story. Roger, please repeat what you told my chief of staff.”
Once again, Roger repeated his amazing story with Meg and I inserting our time travel facts and observations.
President Blake, Bill Carlini, and Buster all focused on one part of the tale—whether Roger had any idea who set off the weapon and any idea how it was detonated. He told them what he told us, that sporadic radio reports speculated that it was North Korea, but he emphasized that the reports were speculation.
“Roger, thank you for being a fine American by bringing this information to us. We will be speaking more soon. For now, the rest of us here need to huddle and discuss a few things. Your Deputy CIA Agent status includes top secret security clearance, but the other part of that clearance is a ‘need to know.’”
The president then told Roger to see his appointments secretary to arrange dinner at a fine restaurant and to stay overnight at the Blair House. He even told him to take Janey and go shopping for an overnight change of clothes, and to send the bill to the White House.
“Well, folks,” the president said. “It looks like we’re the fan and the shit is heading our way. Harry, Meg, is there anything you would like to add to Mr. Cramer’s report?”
“Only that Martha’s Vineyard was completely deserted except for Roger Cramer. He lived by his wits, scrounging food from the few places that hadn’t been looted. He then kept himself alive by fishing and hunting small game.”
“Including raccoons,” Meg said with a look of disgust on her face.
“Meg and I have seen the future—the future a year from now. The country, based on what we saw on Martha’s Vineyard, had returned to life in the 17th Century. We’ve got to stop it. As I said before, it won’t be the end of the world, but it sure as hell will be the beginning of the end. Something tells me that this story didn’t come as a complete surprise to our friend Buster here, but I’m sure he won’t share his thoughts with a couple of innkeepers without a need to know.”
“I think the president will address both your and Meg’s need to know,” Bill Carlini said. “Mr. President, why don’t you tell Harry and Meg what you told me.”
“Harry, if you’re a casino owner,” the president said, “you don’t shuffle your own cards. You have employees do that for you. If you’re the owner of a resort, you don’t show people to their tables and do the dishes. You have management and labor to help you, and I’ve heard that you’ve hired a hell of a management team.”
Uh oh, I thought. I can see where this is going.
“Admiral, this discussion is about to get alarming.”
“I believe you mean Harry, Mr. President, not admiral.”
“No, I mean admiral. You have the power to turn me down, but I’m sure you won’t. When America is in need, Harry and Meg Fenton have always stepped into the batter’s box. Harry, I’m appointing you Fleet Admiral of the United States Navy. Our last five-star admiral was Chester Nimitz, and you are more than his worthy successor. Your first assignment will be Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. You will be the senior ranking officer in the entire American military. I’m sure Meg will agree to stay on as your chief of staff. Since you’re not in uniform I won’t ask you to salute. Do you want to have a word with Meg first?”
Meg looked at me, a tear running down her face.
Chapter 62
After the president’s announcement we took a short break. Meg called her mother. Although the phone wasn’t on speaker I could hear Holly Johnson screaming, “Harry’s a five star admiral. Holy shit!”
I remained stunned. I’m a Fleet Admiral? My God, the first Fleet Admiral since Chester Nimitz. I felt numb. I also felt scared.
Jake Arnold, on orders from the president, had already ordered new uniforms for Meg and me, because he figured our old uniforms were in mothballs in Rhode Island. A tailor would be there later to take our measurements.
An assistant came into the room holding a small package, which she handed to President Blake.
“Open it, Harry,” the president said. It was a five-star admiral’s pin in the form of a pentagram.
“I didn’t think they made these pins any more, sir. They’re not worn often.”
“While we were on the break I called the Smithsonian Institution to let them know I would be sending my assistant over. Those are the actual bars that Chester Nimitz wore. Wear them well, my friend.”
I thought I would pass out. Me, wearing the bars that Nimitz wore?
Jake and the president did all those things before we even agreed. I guess the president was sure we wouldn’t turn him down.
“Now that our meeting includes some top military brass, we can get down to details,” the president said. “Harry, Meg, I know that you two always exercise discretion and know the meaning of secrecy. I recommend that you tell people that you and Meg missed the Navy and decided to leave Leyte Hall in the hands of hired management.”
“Yes, sir. Meg just called her mother to tell her about our rejoining the Navy and that’s exactly what she told her—that we missed the Navy, which isn’t entirely untrue.”
“As we all know,” the President continued, “The congressional EMP commission was defunded last year, effectively ending its mission. Any thoughts on that, Harry?”
“Yes, sir. I was as upset as Roger Cramer, who was actually furious in light of what he went through after a real EMP was detonated.”
“I’m going to ask Buster to address that issue,” the President said, “and also to discuss where we are in the matter of an EMP.”
“The EMP Commission was defunded based on our recommendation,” Buster said. “Although they did a fine scholarly job, there was virtually no security. Commissions operate in the open, which drives spooks like me crazy. Roger Cramer told us that radio reports after the EMP event speculated that North Korea had been testing ICBMs to throw us off the scent, when they were actually planning to detonate an EMP over the United States. Do you have a question, Harry?”
“Sorry to interrupt, Buster, but what did we miss? I realize I’m speaking about a future event in the past tense. Time travel does that to me.”
“You know the answer to that question, Harry. Care to provide the answer?”
“The answer is obviously that you don’t know. If you did, you could have prevented it.”
“That’s right,” Buster said. “As of right now we know little about any country’s intentions with an EMP. In the intelligence business we rely on spies, but spies can’t provide all the answers. If we could, 9/11 would never have happened.”
“Harry, please size up the situation as you see it.” President Blake said.
“An EMP can change everything, as Meg and I saw on our recen
t trip. It’s asymmetrical warfare at its scariest. One nation with the ability to launch a rocket with an EMP warhead can bring a powerful nation like ours to its knees. And the delivery missile doesn’t have to be a sophisticated ICBM. Hell, even a powerful Scud can do the deed. All the rocket needs to do is carry a warhead into the upper atmosphere over us and detonate it. Within moments all solid state electronic devices are fried like eggs. Everything grinds to a halt including the electric grid and transportation, which means that food and medicine do not get delivered. Also, the Internet is a huge part of our economy, with e-commerce competing with brick and mortar. That all goes away. The EMP Commission estimated that 90 percent of Americans will die within a year after the event, either from starvation or lack of medicine.”
“Harry, what do you see as the biggest problem in preventing an EMP launch?” Bill Carlini asked.
“Delivery of the rocket to its launch site is the biggest problem we face,” I said. “A ship as unsophisticated as a rusty old freighter could serve as the launch platform for an EMP rocket. Let me give you some scary facts to chew on. At any given moment there are about 52,000 ships of all sorts steaming the seas. Most of them are general cargo ships or bulk carriers, vessels that wouldn’t raise any eyebrows but could be carrying the keys to the gates of hell. And how many ships does our Navy have? In the active or reserve fleet, we have 480 ships and about 70 more in various stages of completion. So, it’s pretty obvious that we can’t play cop and pull over suspect ships, not when there are 52,000 of them.”
“Harry, does a potential EMP delivery ship have any special characteristics that would distinguish it as a suspect?” the president asked.
“Yes, sir, there are some characteristics that can help us to spot a suspect. I recall that the Office of Naval Intelligence had a group working on that issue about the time I retired. Now that I’m back, I’m going to see how far they’ve gotten. It’s complicated, because if a ship is big enough, it wouldn’t show anything special to indicate that it’s carrying a large missile.”
“Buster, why don’t you tell Admiral Harry about our new research star.”
“Director Bill is referring to Lionel Brinks, a guy we hired about a year ago. He’s the smartest human being I’ve ever met, and his specialty is organizing complex facts. I think he’d be perfect to work on the EMP delivery ship study.”
“Can you bring this guy to my office at the Pentagon tomorrow? Not that I even know where my office is.”
“Admiral Harry, I suggest that you visit Lionel at CIA headquarters. He doesn’t travel well.”
“What do you mean he doesn’t travel well? Langley is just a few miles from the Pentagon.”
“Our brilliant friend Lionel suffers from a problem. He’s autistic. Despite his powerful brain, he doesn’t relate well to stress, or to people in general for that matter. But I want to emphasize again, the man is brilliant, a savant. He could be our best weapon against an EMP attack.”
Chapter 63
Right after our meeting a White House aide named Marjorie Grant took us to our new house in Arlington, Virginia, near the Pentagon. It was a beautiful old five-bedroom house on an acre of property. Although it didn’t have a name, it was the official residence of the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Unlike Tingey House, where we lived when I was CNO, I have a staff of Secret Service agents assigned to Meg and me. Hopefully, Meg won’t get kidnapped again. General Brad Simone, my retiring predecessor, had moved out the day before. He left behind a bouquet of flowers and a magnum of champagne. I always thought Brad was a classy guy. I would meet him later at the Pentagon for a thorough briefing on my new job.
After we toured our new house, Meg and I then went to the Pentagon where we met Mike Jamison, Secretary of Defense. Jamison wanted to personally show us to our new offices. Mine was right down the hall from his, and Meg’s was next to mine. The office was huge. I guess I’m expected to host large meetings. I briefly allowed myself to feel like hot shit, but quickly remembered that my job was to help prevent the end of the world, scheduled a year from then.
After we met with Brad Simone, we took a flight to Providence and then drove to Portsmouth to pack and close out our affairs at Leyte Hall. Tim Clancy, our able and talented manager, arranged for a big party for us in the ballroom. He even arranged for a Navy choir from Naval Station Newport. Meg and I felt comfortable that our huge investment was in good hands. To help Tim stay focused, we gave him 20 percent of the stock in the Leyte Hall Corporation. The next morning, we flew back to Washington.
Meg, no surprise, had already put together my first meeting as Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, set for the following day. But first, I wanted to meet the amazing Lionel at CIA Headquarters.
Chapter 64
Buster met us at the entrance to CIA headquarters.
“What ever you do, Harry, do not attempt to shake his hand, unless he extends his, which he won’t. And Meg, I know how effusive you can be. Do not even think about kissing him on the cheek or hugging him. Lionel is a likeable guy, but he is on the spectrum, as they say, and he feels uncomfortable in social situations.”
We walked into one of the large research rooms. Buster pointed him out. Lionel was extremely neat, with carefully brushed hair and wrinkle-free clothing. He wore a jacket and tie even though it wasn’t required in the research department.
We followed Buster’s lead as we walked up to Lionel’s desk. Buster stopped about four feet from the workstation and we did too.
“Lionel, these are the folks I told you about. Admiral Harry Fenton and Commander Meghan Fenton.”
“Oh, my goodness, oh my goodness, oh my goodness,” he said as he rocked back and forth, staring at our uniforms. “All those ribbons, all those ribbons, all those ribbons.”
“Let’s go sit over there at the conference table, Lionel,” Buster said. Lionel hated to have anyone sit at his desk. Lionel tucked his laptop under his arm and he set it on the table in front of him, making sure to position it squarely.
“As I told you, Lionel, Admiral Harry here is the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and Commander Meg is his chief of staff. These are the two most important people in our military, and they’re looking forward to working with you on the ship project.”
“Do they have top-secret security clearance, Buster?”
“Of course.”
“Good, good, good,” he said as he nodded his head up and down. “You know I never speak to anybody without proper clearance.”
“I explained to Lionel yesterday what we’re up against,” Buster said. “For openers I told him that 52,000 ships ply the seas at any given time, and our job is to try to limit our attention to ships capable of housing and firing a missile.”
“Have you been able to give it much thought since we spoke, Lionel?”
“Of course, of course, of course. When you give me an assignment I always begin to work on it immediately. I have already downloaded an enormous, enormous, enormous, amount of data.”
“I bet that the answer to our problem is already starting to form right here,” Meg said as she tapped his computer. I saw Buster wince.
“Please do not touch that computer, Commander Meghan. I cannot tolerate fingerprints.”
“Sorry, Lionel. I won’t do that again.”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
“So, what have you found so far, Lionel?”
“I have narrowed down the number of possible suspect ships from 52,000 to 4,500.”
“Oh my God almighty,” I said, meaning it as a prayer of thanks.
“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.”
“How did you do that, Lionel?” I asked.
“I gathered all of the available shipping data last night while I watched a few Jeopardy episodes that I DVR’d. I’d love to be on Jeopardy someday. I watched six episodes and I knew the answer to every question. Then, this morning, I developed an algorithm that will help us further narrow down the list of possible suspect shi
ps. Admiral Fenton, I have heard much about your exploits as a naval leader, much, much, very much. You can help me to make my algorithm better. But we can’t sit at the same desk, I’m sure you understand.”
***
Two days later Admiral Jack Pollard, my successor as Chief of Naval Operations, joined Meg and me at the conference table in Lionel’s office at the CIA. I’ve been impressed at Jack’s expansive knowledge of shipping in general. Buster, of course, was there as well. Our objective that morning was to sharpen Lionel’s computer algorithm with input from our knowledge of shipping. The kid is a genius, as Buster told us. We were eliminating vessels unlikely to be used as EMP delivery ships. First, we removed the ships of our Navy as well as the navies of our allies, taking a total of 1094 ships off the list. Lionel, to our amazement, had done some heavy-duty homework. In his research he found out that North Korea was suspected of having test fired a missile, the Unha-3, that could be used in an EMP attack. The rocket was 98 feet tall. Thus, he eliminated any commercial ships that could not accommodate a missile of that length standing up straight. That knocked another 2,100 ships off the database. He then showed us other criteria that he used to eliminate ships. We were down to 1,306 ships, a hell of a lot more comforting than 52,000.
“But what about ships that can carry a launch platform in a flattened position like a truck bearing a rocket launcher,” I asked.
“That’s where satellite surveillance comes in,” Buster said. “Combined with intelligence on the ground, we can identify any ship when it leaves port. Lionel’s algorithm will tell us if we should track the ship. Unlike before, we can’t assume that a ship will be leaving from Iran or North Korea, but from anywhere.”
“Yes, yes, yes, satellites, satellites, satellites,” Lionel added.
The Violent Sea Page 20
