by Alan L. Lee
Lipton’s eyes were open, but he could neither speak nor move. He did feel the intermittent drops of Elaine’s tears upon his face.
Damn it! He saw red lights rapidly flickering off the bedroom walls. He was going to be the embarrassment of the neighborhood after all.
CHAPTER 70
The news wouldn’t make the early-morning edition of the papers. If word got out, there was a better chance of it appearing on the various news services’ Web pages, but even that was unlikely. At 3:45 a.m. there would be a skeleton staff in place, and more than likely, not a very seasoned one.
National Security Advisor Warren Spencer didn’t want the president riding in the backseat on this one, certainly not after the way the past forty-eight hours had developed. Spencer thought about waiting. The president generally started his day at five thirty with exercise. After two sips of freshly made coffee, Spencer alerted the Secret Service that he needed to wake the president.
Special Agent Jimenez was standing ready by the president’s bedroom door when Spencer rounded the corner. Jimenez looked into Spencer’s eyes as the two men stood inches apart, the agent waiting for the go-ahead. It came with a head nod. Jimenez proceeded to knock firmly several times on the door and then moved aside.
About a minute later, Spencer watched the door handle turn. He still wasn’t completely used to the idea of following protocol when addressing his friend. On this occasion, however, he made sure he got it right when the most powerful man in the world opened the door.
“Mr. President, sorry to wake you.”
“Spence…” President Hudson said, confused. This was the first time since taking office his sleep had been interrupted. “What is it?”
“Mr. President, I have to inform you that Senator Bryce Lipton has died.”
CHAPTER 71
The massive jolt achieved the desired effect. Everyone in the underground complex was concerned. There were multiple safeguards in place, and much thought, time, and money had gone into the facility’s creation, making it structurally sound. Those specifications made it capable of withstanding an aerial bombing.
Had the West, though, with all its wealth and technology, built a better bomb that could penetrate even deeper to deliver a destructive blow? Nothing short of a nuclear detonation was supposed to threaten it: the Iranians had built this place with extreme confidence, being proactive by digging even deeper than the original plan called for. And yet, something abnormal had just occurred.
Alex stared through the window of the control room, and what he saw reminded him of the daily routine on the floor of the Chicago Mercantile Exchange. Everyone was moving swiftly, checking instrument panels, barking feverishly, and dealing with their anxiety. Even President Shahroudi, surrounded by security guards, seemed on edge. The lone inconsistency was easy to spot. The only uncanny calmness belonged to Dr. Mueller.
Alex ducked out of the way as a couple of lab coats came bursting through the door, cursing in Farsi. Alex eased his way inside, knowing his entrance would go unnoticed amongst the mayhem. He was wrong in that assumption.
Yadin tried to gauge reaction as best as he could. The technicians were scrambling to determine what had caused the place to rumble. He was surprised that the issue of shutting down the reactors hadn’t been raised yet. Perhaps they felt secure in knowing safeguards were in place to do just that in the event of a dire emergency. That belief would be tested once the fear escalated. Yadin registered all the moving parts and bodies as if he were painting a masterpiece of confusion. His canvas developed an imperfection when he spotted something that shouldn’t be there: Mr. McBride. He wondered how long McBride might have been watching him. The thought prompted Yadin to join the madness, and he did so with a purpose, knowing the clock was quickly counting down to the next disruption. He corralled a group of technicians. After their conversation, two of them approached Alex, who was milling around at the back of the control room. They expressed urgency in insisting he come with them.
“Where are we going?” Alex asked.
“We need to make sure every vital apparatus is working properly,” barked one of the techs, heading for the door. “We’re heading to the centrifuge room. Your expertise may be needed, Mr. McBride.”
“On whose authority, if I may ask?”
“That would be Dr. Mueller.”
Alex followed the technicians but took one last look before he left the room. He wasn’t at all surprised to see Dr. Mueller watching him exit.
CHAPTER 72
“What, exactly, did Dr. Mueller say we were supposed to be checking?” asked Alex, looking out at the sea of centrifuges running in unison.
“He said to monitor the situation here. Make sure everything is running smoothly while the source of what caused that disruption is located.” The tech was doing his best to shield his nervousness. Alex had his own set of doubts. Why did Dr. Mueller specifically request he be brought here? The good doctor had taken too keen an interest in him, considering what he should have been preoccupied with.
“Who is Dr. Mueller?” Alex figured it might be of some comfort to the tech if he were able to ease his fears by talking. There was a good chance his defenses would be down.
“There is little to be known about Dr. Mueller. He fiercely guards his privacy. But most of this facility exists because of him.”
“So you don’t know where he came fr—” Alex couldn’t finish the sentence because the explosion was ear-shattering, potent, and—worse—close. As the tech’s body slammed into him, it knocked the air from his lungs. The force of the blast sent both of them hurtling backward in the air. Alex fell to the floor, rolling over several times before stopping just short of a wall. The tech wasn’t as lucky. His body continued flying, its path abruptly interrupted by the same wall Alex had managed to avoid. His ears still ringing, Alex didn’t hear the thud of the collision, but the tech’s body gave way to gravity and fell to the floor. His neck was twisted in an unnatural position. Alex was sure the man had saved his life by absorbing the brunt of the explosion. His own head was a scrambled mess, but Alex concluded it wasn’t in his best interest to stay put. He groggily rose to his feet, hugging the wall for balance as he inched toward the exit. All the techs he’d entered the room with were down and motionless, their lab coats tainted with crimson. The other workers in the room looked to have either suffered a similar fate or were crying out in agony. The centrifuges were heavily damaged, and those that were still operational made a noise that only heightened his desperation to vacate the area. As his eyes began to focus, he saw that, in addition to the explosion, it looked like a number of centrifuges had ripped apart on their own. What was it Duncan had said? If they ran at a higher, inappropriate speed, it was possible for them to do just that.
He could hear sirens now, the explosion impossible to mask. Any minute, he expected to be joined by teams of emergency responders. He staggered into the hall and encountered chaos as his head began to clear. No one seemed to have the slightest interest in what was going on in the centrifuge room, and between the blasting of the sirens, he learned why. The female voice filtering through the broadcasting system in Farsi was issuing a warning of her own.
“Danger of reactor failure. Initiate immediate shutdown procedures.” The voice was eerily calm, but the message was scaring the hell out of people who had no intention of the underground facility’s being their gravesite.
Alex saw a worker jumping behind the wheel of the cart he had ridden to get here. He raced to catch up, and with the worker’s back exposed, it was easy to grab hold and throw him roughly to the floor. Alex hopped in the cart and began retracing his route. Alex was convinced the explosion was designed to cripple the centrifuge area and hopefully take him out in the process. His blood began to boil. This was the second time within a few days someone had tried to kill him. Dmitri Nevsky had failed. He couldn’t do anything about that at the moment, but Dr. Mueller was accessible.
CHAPTER 73
By now the cent
rifuge section would be in shambles and “Mr. McBride” presumably a memory. Yadin ignored the high-pitched screams of technicians as they relayed what their monitoring stations were reporting. He had hoped President Shahroudi and his handlers were smart enough to evacuate, but they were dazed by everything happening around them. Yadin could wait no longer. He regrettably had to get the man out. He approached the entourage with urgency.
“Mr. President, you need to get out of here. Now!” The message was delivered loudly. No one dared to talk to the president like that, but clearly, this was no ordinary situation.
“What is going on?” an agitated Shahroudi shot back, not sure if going anywhere was safe.
“I don’t know yet, but I don’t want to take any chances with your safety.” Yadin tried to sound sincere. If the president was unsure about departing before, the next words he heard persuaded him quickly.
Not unlike the voice of propaganda used by the Germans and Japanese during World War II, the voice from the loudspeakers was soothing while delivering news of dire consequence.
“Warning. Warning. Danger of reactor failure. Initiate immediate shutdown procedures.”
Dr. Mueller was precise in giving Shahroudi’s bodyguards a route back to the surface. He sent them on their way with a sense of urgency based on knowledge of future events.
Alex was out of the cart when he gave way to Shahroudi and his men, who, besides their weapons, carried a serious look of purpose with each rapidly advancing step. Alex managed to grab the last guard to inquire about Dr. Mueller. The guard was in no mood to protest and hurriedly told Alex he’d find him in the control room. Alex stopped at the door before going in. The room was a lot less populated now, with just five technicians frantically moving. Watching it all stood a relaxed Dr. Mueller. Alex couldn’t hear, but he saw all the techs stop what they were doing and give Mueller their full attention. They must have heard what amounted to a stay of execution because they all abandoned their stations and rushed for the exit. As they pushed through, Alex entered. The soft covering on his shoes helped mask his entrance as Mueller faced the huge window overlooking the reactor floor. Alex knelt, using console panels for cover as he moved forward. The back of his head felt wet, so he touched it; after inspection, he concluded the blood on his hand wasn’t enough to warrant concern. He let go of the thought of what might have been if not for that technician taking the brunt of the blast.
He peered around a corner and caught Mueller checking his watch. Alex was about to advance when it became necessary to grab onto the console for support. The structure had begun to shake violently as a loud boom permeated the environment. The woman’s voice over the loudspeakers was even more nightmarish now.
“Warning. Warning. Reactor failure imminent. Automatic shutoff protocols are offline.”
Throughout it all, Dr. Mueller hadn’t moved.
“You’re either quite resourceful or very lucky, Mr. McBride. Considering you’ve gotten this far, I’d say it’s the former.” The words startled Alex, and he realized there was no point in remaining hidden. He stood up, keeping a watchful eye on Dr. Mueller. Knowing he was being studied, Mueller let his arms hang naturally, exposing his open hands, informing Mr. McBride he was not armed—at least, not in a conventional way.
“I take it this is your handiwork?” asked Alex, trying to gauge which side, right or left, Mueller felt more comfortable with.
“Impressed?”
“Ask me again when I get out of here.”
“You assume that you will.”
“Something tells me you have an exit strategy.”
Mueller slowly turned around. “There are some things worth dying for.”
Alex looked into his eyes. “You don’t strike me as the martyr type.”
Mueller smiled. “Isn’t there something you’d die for?”
“Off the top of my head … nothing comes to mind.”
“And yet, here you are, Mr. McBride.”
“I never said I was smart. I’m just helping out a friend.”
“Must be one hell of a friend.”
“And what about you? Mossad wouldn’t trust this scale of an operation to just anybody. It’s all going to come crumbling down, and I don’t just mean this place. Senator Bryce Lipton helping to run a rogue operation with a foreign government…” Alex whistled. “The Justice Department and the media are going to have a field day with this one.”
“I seriously doubt it will get that far. Besides, how do you think the world will judge your country if it can be proven America is involved? And let me caution, what you think is an off-the-books operation could simply be above your pay grade.”
Alex saw something flicker in the man’s eye.
Mueller rotated his wrist to glance at his watch. “Time is what I don’t have, but it is time to end this.”
The move was so quick all Alex could do in response was angle his shoulders sideways. Mueller had produced a knife from the cuff of his shirt and thrown it with deadly force and accuracy. The only problem was that McBride had been a hair faster: the sharp blade sailed past, clanging against an instrument panel instead. With Alex slightly compromised, Mueller ducked behind him just enough to deliver a sideways kick just above the hip. Having braced for the blow, Alex recovered quickly and once again surprised Mueller, this time responding with a long step that maneuvered him in position to use his right hand. He sent Mueller a couple of steps back with a karate chop to the face. Alex readied himself for what he assumed was coming next. If Mueller was a Mossad-trained agent, odds were that he was proficient in the fighting style of Krav Maga—swift attacks aimed to inflict as much damage as possible to vulnerable body parts, the goal being to neutralize the opponent quickly. Alex was right. Mueller came back with a flurry of movement. Two kicks found Alex’s thigh, and he failed to block a series of blows to his neck, one connecting on each side. He was fortunate enough to turn and lower his jaw just enough to avoid a direct blow to his Adam’s apple. Sensing he had the upper hand, Mueller closed in, and Alex let him. The moment Mueller made his intention known, Alex dodged the lethal right hand. He shifted to his left, and carrying the majority of his weight with him, he rifled two sharp blows to Mueller’s midsection. His stomach was flat and strong, but the doctor definitely felt the impact. Alex locked Mueller’s right leg with his own and then rose to fire his left-hand palm hard into the doctor’s jaw. Mueller stumbled backward and fell to the floor. That strike would have left most men nearly unconscious, but Mueller was back on his feet, showing no sign of giving up. He charged at Alex, aiming for his midsection. Alex crouched and extended his arms as Mueller came at him. Rotating his hips, Alex tossed Mueller aside. There was a loud sigh as he crashed into a metal console. Once again, Mueller rebounded immediately. He came at Alex using his hands and feet in a furious attack. Alex blocked what he could, but a right hand had a clear path to his left kidney, and a series of kicks connected just above his groin. Alex’s knees buckled, and his back arched from a stinging sensation climbing upward. His reflexes deflected a blazing left fist to his nose. He managed to defend himself from a flurry of strikes, finally going on the offensive by thrusting his large frame into Mueller’s chest, creating space. In the blink of an eye, Alex delivered a direct kick to Mueller’s stomach, doubling him over. Alex was in the process of delivering a fluid roundhouse kick to the head when Mueller sprung to life, ducking to make the intended strike harmless. Mueller then lashed out, attacking the big thigh muscle of Alex’s firmly planted left leg. Next he sent Alex hard to the floor by sweeping his leg from under him. Mueller was on him in seconds, attacking the left side of his back with a series of well-placed, powerful jabs. Vulnerable and in tear-evoking pain, Alex tried to crawl away, cursing the fact that his skills were rusty for this kind of encounter. Dr. Mueller certainly had the upper hand.
When no finishing onslaught ensued, Alex turned his head to see Mueller walking away. At first Alex thought Mueller had designs on retrieving the knife, which was near
by, but there was something else that had captured the doctor’s attention instead. Mueller didn’t even seem to acknowledge Alex’s existence. Instead, he made a beeline to an instrument panel. He punched several buttons with purpose. For the first time since he’d been in Mueller’s company, Alex thought he recognized concern. There was a lost look on his face.
Recovering, Alex gingerly got to his feet. “What is it? You finally appear worried.”
“You aren’t as stupid as you look,” Mueller responded as he rushed to the large windows overlooking the reactor floor. He shook his head and ran to another control panel, frantically tapping more buttons. He moved to an adjacent computer screen, typing so hard on the keyboard that he nearly broke it.
“Anything I can do?” Alex asked, feeling totally helpless. He picked up and pocketed the knife in the process. He had no intention of leaving anything to chance.
“Not unless you have an advanced degree in nuclear engineering. The reactors were supposed to shut down. That they didn’t is troubling on several fronts.” Mueller considered his options. “I’m in a generous mood right now, so you need to get out of here.”
“Not until you tell me what the hell is going on.”
Mueller shook his head. “On second thought, maybe you are as stupid as you look. If those reactors aren’t shut down, they’ll make Chernobyl look like child’s play.”
“You’re telling me that wasn’t the purpose all along?”
“Not really,” said Mueller, going from instrument panel to instrument panel. “Who is the female friend you mentioned?”
“I didn’t say it was a woman.”
“You CIA?”
“Past tense.”
Mueller stopped what he was doing. “I need your help with something.” Without hesitation, Alex followed him to a door that led to a staging area. There were a number of protective suits hanging from a wall. They resembled astronaut gear. Mueller explained he needed help putting on one of the suits, since shutting down the reactors could only be done manually at this point.
