by Ted Halstead
Azita had been so intent on listening to the distant conversation that she didn’t notice the wrench balanced on the edge of the nearest pallet. Until she brushed against it, sending it clattering to the floor.
All conversation immediately ceased, and every head turned in Azita’s direction, though they still couldn’t see her or Nasir.
The older man gestured silently to several of his men, who held rifles at the ready as they began moving towards the source of the noise.
Azita.
Now she had a decision to make. Once they killed Azita and Nasir, what were the Taliban fighters likely to do?
Azita knew the answer as soon as she asked herself the question. They’d pack up and leave, maybe quickly enough to escape her soldiers.
She couldn’t allow that to happen.
Azita whispered to Nasir, “I need you to move as far away from me as you can that way while staying behind these pallets. When I tell you, put your pistol in one of the gaps in the pallets and start firing. Don’t worry about hitting anything. I only need a distraction,” Azita said.
“What are you going to do?” Nasir hissed back, clearly terrified.
When he asked, Azita had just removed a model 84-P2A1 grenade from a vest pocket. A Pakistani produced version of the Austrian Arges Type HG 84 series anti-personnel hand grenade, it would send fragments at speed for a radius of about thirty meters.
Azita was confident she could detonate the distant case of explosives if she just had a few seconds to line up her throw.
Azita looked back at him and softly whispered, “Sorry, Nasir. Move off, and when I signal, start firing.”
Nasir appeared stunned, but moved as Azita had ordered.
When Nasir had gone far enough, Azita raised her hand.
Nasir lifted his pistol and began firing.
A part of Azita’s thoughts included gratitude for Nasir’s success in remembering to disengage the pistol’s safety, and for providing the distraction she needed.
A bigger part wished she’d seen that wrench.
As Azita had expected, the advancing Taliban fighters had shifted towards Nasir, and begun firing back. So far, no round had hit Nasir, and Azita saw with approval that he was still firing.
Azita pulled the pin from the grenade and immediately darted out from her hiding place at the edge of the pallets. Her arm bent back to throw.
The two closest Taliban fighters shifted their aim from Nasir to Azita and fired. Their first rounds missed, and Azita was able to complete her throw.
The next Taliban rounds didn’t miss. But it didn’t matter.
A second later, Azita’s grenade blasted both the case of detonators and the nearby case of explosives.
A fraction of a second later, Nasir’s assessment of a partial nuclear detonation proved accurate. The warehouse, as well as three others near it, ceased to exist. Fire consumed many other buildings, and the explosion’s shock wave damaged many others.
The explosion ejected radioactive material for hundreds of meters, and radioactive fallout was produced in a large enough quantity to require decontamination throughout the neighboring area of Risalpur.
However, except for six men working late in two of the nearby warehouses, Azita, Nasir, and the Taliban fighters were the only fatalities.
If Azita had still been alive to ask the question, though, it certainly would have been— How much longer could Pakistan’s luck hold out?
Chapter Eighteen
Creech Air Force Base, Nevada
The MPs had told Captain Josh Pettigrew that their CO hadn’t even ordered him confined to quarters, but did ask that he not leave the base until the investigation of “the incident” was complete. They didn’t know what “the incident” was, nor did they care.
One of them had told Pettigrew in a low voice that their CO had only agreed to have him escorted back to quarters to get Wainwright out of his office. Also, to avoid a confrontation between Pettigrew and Wainwright, that might have ended up with no way to prevent immediate charges, maybe against both of them.
It was nice that the MPs and their CO weren’t willing to confine him before an investigation had even started. It probably helped that they didn’t like Wainwright, or trust his judgment.
But it didn’t make Pettigrew feel any better about what had happened. He couldn’t stop thinking about the image of those unmoving men on the monitor. How many were wounded and how many dead?
Pettigrew had spent his time after the MPs left flipping from one news channel to another, hoping to find some word of what had happened in Afghanistan. When he finally fell asleep on his couch, he had still heard nothing.
Pounding on his door woke him up at what a quick glance at his window showed was dawn. The same two MPs were at his door.
They said nothing beyond, “Please come with us, sir.”
Pettigrew gestured at his unshaven face and wrinkled uniform. They both shook their heads, and one said, “Now, sir.”
Though they hadn’t cuffed him, Pettigrew thought that his most likely destination was still probably a cell.
So, he was surprised when it became apparent they were going to Lt. Colonel Emmanuel Wainwright’s office.
I think I’d prefer the cell, Pettigrew thought bitterly. He wasn’t looking forward to a lecture about how badly he’d screwed up.
He’d been giving himself that lecture for hours.
As he walked into Wainwright’s office, Pettigrew realized there was no reason it couldn’t be both. A lecture followed by a cell.
Except the MPs saluted Wainwright, turned on their heels and left.
The next words from Wainwright were the last ones Pettigrew had expected.
“Take a seat, Captain,” Wainwright said. His tone was pleasant, but his face looked like he was sucking on a lemon.
Then Pettigrew noticed the handset lying on Wainwright’s desk.
Wainwright continued, “General Robinson is joining us for this conversation by phone. Do we still have a good connection, General?”
“We do,” came as a distempered growl from the speaker on Wainwright’s phone console.
Pettigrew thought that if Wainwright had any sense, he’d read the tone as meaning, “Get on with it, and stop wasting my time.”
As he saw his expression shift, Pettigrew realized Wainwright did—barely—have that much sense.
“I would like to express my regret over your unjustified confinement to quarters when no investigation had even begun. You will return to duty immediately. I would also like to offer you this opportunity to register a formal complaint regarding my actions,” Wainwright said.
Pettigrew didn’t hesitate. “Sir, I have no interest in making a complaint. I regret that circumstances didn’t give me the time to seek your guidance and authorization for acting contrary to orders.”
Wainwright nodded. “Very well. General Robinson would now like to speak to you privately.”
After the door closed, Robinson’s voice rasped over the phone, “Is he gone?”
“Yes, sir,” Pettigrew replied.
“OK, Captain, I don’t have much more time to spend on this, so you’re getting the short version. Four Seals were injured in that explosion, but are expected to make a complete recovery,” Robinson said.
“I’m glad to hear that, sir,” Pettigrew said, meaning every word.
That must have come through because after a pause, Robinson finally just said, “Me, too.”
“A preliminary investigation team from Bagram has confirmed your belief that the truck you hit was carrying a bomb. Any Seal team members who entered the building would have had no chance of survival once the bomb was triggered. Were you the one who had the Avenger loaded with an R9X, Captain?” Robinson asked.
“Yes, sir,” Pettigrew replied.
“Not a standard item for the Avenger, but maybe it should be. The lead investigator says if you had used a Hellfire with a standard explosive warhead, he doubts any of the Seals would have survived,”
Robinson said.
“I’m glad the kinetic warhead was effective,” Pettigrew said.
“So is the Seal team commander, Commander Dave Martins. Once he received the preliminary report, Martins told me he would put you in for a commendation,” Robinson said.
“Thank you, sir, but please tell him that’s not necessary,” Pettigrew said.
The answering grunt was partly amused and partly annoyed. “Captain, you haven’t been an officer long, so I’ll tell you why it’s necessary. First, because you will now have a record in your file showing that against orders, you decided to fire a missile practically on top of special forces troops. It would be useful for you to have a document from those troops in the same file saying that it was a good decision. Second, because it will make it much more difficult for your CO to give you the Officer Evaluation Report he is probably mentally drafting right now,” Robinson said.
“Yes, sir,” Pettigrew replied.
“Good. Now, I’ve taken the time to sort out this little misunderstanding with your CO partly because my boss has taken an interest in this incident. He also hasn’t forgotten your performance in Saudi Arabia. But, more important, there is a new mission tasking coming your way that will be the greatest challenge you’ve faced yet,” Robinson said.
“We’re ready, sir,” Pettigrew replied. “We’ve got a good team here.”
“Glad to hear it,” Robinson said. “Your new orders will be waiting for you back at the drone command center. Good luck, Captain.”
“Thank you, sir,” Pettigrew said, as the line went dead.
Greatest challenge yet? As he walked out of Wainwright’s office, Pettigrew first thought that was fine. After all, he’d joined the Air Force to deal with challenges most civilians couldn’t even imagine.
On the other hand, thinking back over the hours of guilt he’d endured after firing that missile, he wondered whether he’d be up to this “greatest challenge.”
As he pulled open the door to the drone command center, Pettigrew remembered just hours before having wondered if he’d be back.
Pettigrew realized he was lucky to be standing where he was right now.
He nodded acknowledgment to the chorus of greetings that came from everyone in the room, including Senior Airman Evans.
Yes, Pettigrew thought. I am definitely ready for this.
Chapter Nineteen
Pakistan Secretariat, Islamabad, Pakistan
President Hamza Shadid glowered across his desk at General Ehsan Monir, who was standing at stiff attention.
“Report, General,” Hamza ordered coldly.
“Sir, two of the four stolen nuclear warheads have now been accounted for,” Ehsan said.
It was apparent he was trying not to sound as desperate as he felt.
“So, General, that’s how you put it? Do you imagine you are my only source of information? Why don’t I say ‘Risalpur’ and save us both some time,” Hamza said contemptuously.
“Sir, from what I’ve been able to learn so far, one of my officers and a senior nuclear weapons technician were present when one of the warheads experienced a partial detonation. I think it is very likely they prevented a much greater disaster,” Ehsan said.
Hamza nodded. “Maybe so, General. We’ll probably never know for sure. At least, as you say, the warhead is accounted for,” he said with obvious sarcasm.
Ehsan winced but said nothing in reply.
“My sources tell me that the officer you put in charge of the investigation was a woman, a detail you failed to mention,” Hamza observed.
“I didn’t think it was relevant, sir,” Ehsan said.
“Or you thought I might object, and you’d have to assign someone else. Well, though she failed to find all the warheads, I certainly can’t question her courage or her devotion to duty,” Hamza said.
“Yes, sir,” Ehsan replied.
“Unfortunately, I can’t say the same for your senior nuclear weapons technician,” Hamza continued.
“Sir?” Ehsan asked, obviously puzzled.
“The ISI routinely monitors the movements of all American personnel with diplomatic credentials. Of course, some of them are spies. But, because they have diplomatic status, ISI agents need higher authority to approve any action against them,” Hamza said.
Ehsan looked even more confused and said nothing.
“So, once the American left, the ISI agents arrested the Pakistani man he had met. By the time they understood who he was and why he had met with the American, the spy was already safely back at his Embassy,” Hamza said bitterly.
Ehsan finally couldn’t restrain himself. “Did this man who met the American have something to do with our technician?” Ehsan asked.
“Oh, yes, you could say that, General. Yes, you absolutely could,” Hamza growled.
After glaring at Ehsan, who stood stock-still, Hamza continued. “Under intensive questioning, the man revealed that he was your technician’s deputy and that he had just come from giving the American spy detailed blueprints of the Nasr missile. He also told him that four Nasr warheads had been stolen, and three were still missing. Of course, this was before one was accounted for at Risalpur,” Hamza said.
Ignoring Hamza’s sarcasm, Ehsan asked with genuine puzzlement, “Why would he do such a thing?”
Hamza nodded. “A good question. Unlike the fact of his treason, the answer to that question was one the man was eager to provide. It seems your senior technician believed and told his deputy in a phone call that if our stolen weapons were to be used against the Americans, they might decide to strike back at the source of the problem.”
More sarcasm. Ehsan, though, was thinking through the implications of this news.
“So, General, was he right? Would the Americans attack our nuclear weapons production facilities? And if so, would the attack use nuclear weapons?” Hamza asked.
Part of Ehsan’s thoughts were focused on the realization that one of his questions had now been answered. After he’d heard about the explosion in Risalpur, he had expected dismissal at best, and arrest at worst. This summons to Hamza’s office had come as a real surprise.
Now he knew why he was here. It didn’t take long for Ehsan to decide how to answer the question.
Truthfully.
“Yes, sir. I think the Americans might hit us, especially if their forces suffer mass casualties. Especially if we don’t warn them officially,” Ehsan said.
Hamza nodded irritably. “Yes, I’m considering that. Again, will the Americans use nuclear weapons?”
Ehsan looked thoughtful for a moment and finally shook his head. “I don’t think so, sir. They have conventional weapons that could do the job. The truth is, we haven’t spent much on hardening our production facilities against nuclear attack.”
Hamza looked startled. “What! Why not?”
Ehsan shrugged. “Our thinking was that nuclear war with India would either be strictly limited to small tactical devices on the battlefield, or an all-out exchange designed to eliminate each side’s weapons and means of both military and civilian production. Years ago, we crossed the threshold for such an exchange resulting in mutually assured destruction. I’m sure you’ve seen the briefing.”
Hamza nodded. It was the first briefing he’d received after becoming Prime Minister. It still gave him nightmares.
“So, your thinking was after an exchange that left nothing else standing, why worry about whether we could make more nuclear weapons?” Hamza said quietly.
“Well, yes, sir. It seemed pointless. And funds we saved by not hardening production facilities could instead be spent on making more weapons now. Improving the balance of power against the Indian enemy is the best guarantee that we’ll never have to use the weapons at all. I’m sure you agree that would be preferable,” Ehsan said.
Hamza nodded but said nothing. He was thinking, though, that what the General had said was…chilling. Hamza didn’t like the casual way he had discussed the end of two nations that together w
ere home to over one and a half billion people.
Hamza understood the military had to view these matters with a certain detachment. But maybe it was time for civilian politicians to inject some sanity to the whole issue of nuclear weapons.
Ehsan looked like he wanted to add something, so Hamza said, “Something else, General?”
Ehsan said, “Yes, sir. I should tell you that some officers have suggested we broaden our military alliance with China to include coordination on nuclear weapons policy. The most basic version would be a commitment to use only low yield weapons against targets near India’s border with China to minimize the possibility of fallout in Chinese territory. In return, we would expect China to threaten unspecified retaliation if India appeared to be readying a first strike against us.”
Hamza looked at Ehsan in disbelief. “And is there another version?”
Ehsan nodded, apparently oblivious to Hamza’s reaction. “Yes, sir. Other officers hope that China might go further and coordinate targeting with our forces against our mutual enemies. However, that would depend on progress towards further improvements to the Shaheen missile class. As you know, we were successful in extending the Shaheen 2’s two thousand kilometer range to two thousand seven hundred kilometers in 2015 with the successful test of the Shaheen 3. We have just successfully tested the Shaheen 4, which will put several southern Russian cities within range.”
Hamza slowly repeated, “Southern Russian cities.”
Ehsan barreled ahead. “Yes, sir. Chelyabinsk, Yekaterinburg, and Omsk, with a combined population of about four million. Enough to start negotiating with the Chinese about a shared targeting list, with, of course, more cities to come once the Shaheen 5 comes online.”
Hamza looked at Ehsan with an expression that finally appeared to penetrate Ehsan’s awareness.
“I had already decided to have you placed under arrest pending trial. Now, I will have to add to that the necessity of interrogation to determine just how many other officers are involved in your mad scheme to embroil us in a multi-country nuclear war.”
