Castle Bravo

by Karna Small Bodman

  “Stop worrying. We’ve been all over this. He’ll be with our guys. He’ll be with me. We’ve got our tickets lined up, going business class, and we’ll be in the best hotels. It’s not a Third World country, you know. With all of their oil wells, these guys are richer than Croesus. We just want to nail down a piece of the action. And Jake’s gonna help us do it.”

  Tripp poured more wine and was glad when the waiter reappeared with their steaks. “I hope the Caesar was to your liking,” he said, exchanging the plates.

  “Actually, the croutons were so crisp, I couldn’t hear the conversation,” Samantha quipped.

  At least she can still maintain a sense of humor, Tripp thought. A good sign since he wanted to get her off the subject of Jake’s travel and onto something a bit more pleasant. But just then he saw that Samantha switched back and was looking up at him with pleading eyes. “So you romise you’ll look after dad? Even if he doesn’t always look after himself?”

  Tripped stared at her, nodded his head and said, “I promise.”

  Back at the condo, Tripp felt it was time to keep a promise to himself. Tonight of all nights, he wanted to stay. Stay with this woman, calm her fears, reassure her that the trip would come off without a hitch. But who was he kidding? That wasn’t the only reason he wanted to stay. No, he wanted to take her clothes off. Very slowly. One piece at a time. He wanted to stare at her great body, lie down on her crisp white sheets and make love to her. He wanted to feel her hair slide through his fingers, smell her scent, stroke her thighs and hear her catch her breath and call out his name as she said, “Please now.” She always said, “Please now.” He loved when she did that. And he could hardly wait to comply.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  FRANKFURT, GERMANY

  “Passports, boarding passes out,” the security agent shouted to the long line of passengers waiting to board the flight from Frankfurt to Almaty. Pete and Nurlan shuffled along, shifting their back packs as they juggled an armful of newspapers and paperback books. They had been waiting over an hour in a line that snaked around the terminal.

  “As soon as we through line, we go buy sandwiches take on board. They only give pretzels, peanuts on plane.” Nurlan said

  “This whole travel bit is a total drag these days,” Pete said as he stared at two teenage girls being wanded by an agent next to the X-ray machine. “Those girls don’t exactly look like a security threat to me.”

  “I wonder why they shake down like that,” Nurlan asked.

  Pete took a closer look. “Probably set off the alarm with all those pierced body parts.”

  “But they no terrorists,” Nurlan said. “Good thing machines can’t know what we think about. Right?”

  “Shhhh. Careful what you say around here. We came up with a bunch of cool ideas about dealing with our own governments on the way over, but we’ve gotta be quiet right now.” Nurlan nodded. Pete glanced around the modern airport and said, “I thought it was kind of weird that we flew from LA to Frankfurt and then have to backtrack to Almaty. Then again, I know you said they had that non-stop flight and it was the cheapest way to go.”

  “That right,” Nurlan said, motioning to a separate line of well-dressed people headed to Business Class. “See people there? They pay three times what we pay and just get some food.”

  “Yeah. Seems stupid to me. We all get there at the same time.”

  “Glad I didn’t have to bring a computer along on this trip,” Jake said, handing his passport to the agent at the head of the business class line. “Just one less thing to worry about.”

  “Yeah, well, I’ve got to have mine for the background research, the talking points, the meetings, and then sending all the results back to the home office. I also promised Samantha I’d be in touch every day. Course I could email her from my blackberry, but this way it’s easier to send a longer message. Gotta keep the woman happy, you know?”

  They moved ahead, quickly passed through the metal detector, retrieved their carry-ons and sauntered over to the waiting area for their flight to Almaty. “That little girl of mine is turning into a worry-wart,” Jake said. “You’d think that her job would keep her busy enough without spending time wondering if I’ve taken my vitamins and done my exercise.”

  “Hey, she just wants to keep you around for a while. You know that.”

  “I know you’re right. It’s just that she took a whole year off from college back when my wife got cancer. Samantha was the 24/7 caregiver back then. Worked like a trooper. Wouldn’t even let me hire a private nurse. I just don’t want to see her thinking about a repeat performance. I mean, look at me, I’m in great shape.”

  “That you are.” Tripp glanced around at the hordes of passengers waiting to board their flight. “Wish I could say that for all these other people. With all the weight they’re packing, it’s a wonder a plane can take off.”

  “You know, the airlines are charging for heavy baggage. Why don’t they charge for heavy people?” Jake asked.

  “Now, there’s an idea. Maybe they should have people stand on a scale along with their bags. If you weigh too much, pack a lighter bag or vice versa. Otherwise, pay a fee for the extra weight. Think that would work?”

  “Nah. Some group would probably bring a lawsuit,” Jake said. “On the other hand, look at all the students on this flight. Guys with backpacks. At least they’re in better shape. Must be going over there for summer break, although in my day the kids usually stayed here in Europe.”

  “Nowadays there are lot more options,” Tripp said. “Ever since the Soviet Union broke up and the countries got a bit of freedom, they built all sorts of hotels to attract the tourists. Wait until you see where we’re staying in Almaty. It’s the new Marriott. Just opened. It’s got a tower that’s the tallest building in town. There’s a movie theater, not that we’ll take time to go there. But it also has the usual fitness center that we can check out and it’s got tennis courts and a swimming pool.”

  “Well, you should tell Samantha about that. Maybe it’ll calm her down a bit.”

  “There’s the boarding call. Let’s get going,” Tripp said, glancing around at a couple of young guys, one who was walking with a slight limp and another one wearing a T-shirt with the words S.A.I.N.T.S. across the front. “At least we can get on ahead of the basketball players, or whatever they are.”

  “We can hang here for a few more minutes,” Pete said. “Gotta wait for all the rich guys to board first.” He looked up at a TV monitor. “Maybe we can catch some news. Even here in Germany, they’ve got CNN on. Look.”

  Nurlan watched the screen as the announcer said, “Welcome to our international viewers. There are some new developments on Wall Street as the Dow has dropped again today. Traders are concerned about the falling dollar and high inflation due to predictions of much higher deficits. Here to sort it out is the new assistant secretary of the Treasury. Do you have a prediction for our viewers about the outcome of the next FOMC meeting?” He turned to a middle aged man who was somewhat hunched over the desk, adjusting his glasses.

  “We have to assess the impact of asset allocation on monetary velocity. And to the extent it increases inflationary pressures on M1, the Fed may decide to raise rates by 50 basis points or more.”

  “What he say?” Nurlan asked, looking perplexed.

  “I haven’t got a clue,” Pete replied. “But I’ll tell you this. If our groups can pull off any of the plans we’ve been kicking around, America is going to have a helluva lot more to worry about than inflation and basis points. Come on, looks like it’s our turn to board.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  WASHINGTON, D.C.

  “A turkey wrap and an ice tea, please,” Samantha said, pushing her tray along the rail at the front of Cosi. At 17th and G Streets, the popular sandwich shop was right across the street from the EEOB. It was jammed, as usual, this lunch hour.

  “I’ll just have a fruit salad and some yogurt,” Angela said to the clerk.

  “Are y
ou on another diet or something?” Samantha asked her friend.

  “Sort of. I mean, I think my weight’s perfect. I’m just too short.”

  Samantha laughed and replied, “Don’t be silly. You’re taller than I am.”

  “But you’re a size eight and I’m a twelve. So it’ll have to be fruit for a while.”

  They took their trays and drinks outside to wait for their orders to be delivered and were happy to find a couple of young men from the Legislative Affairs Office finishing up. “Can we snag your table?” Samantha asked.

  “It’s all yours,” one of the fellows said as he pushed back his chair and tossed a cup in the trash can.

  “I wonder what those guys are pushing on the Hill these days? Congress hasn’t passed a budget yet. They haven’t figured out a reconciliation bill, but they seem to find time to work on all sorts of nutty resolutions,” Angela said, sitting down at the small round table facing 17th Street.

  “Which ones this time?” Samantha asked.

  “Well, let’s see. Somebody submitted the Great Cats and Rare Canids Act.”

  “What’s a canid?”

  “You know. Wolves, coyotes, foxes, jackals. Stuff like that.”

  “Are we protecting them or targeting them?” Samantha asked with a grin.

  “Beats the heck out of me. They’ve saluted the 70th anniversary of the Idaho Potato Commission, designated July as National Watermelon Month, and a congressman from Ohio sponsored a National Funeral Director and Mortician Recognition Day.”

  Samantha almost choked on her tea. “How do you keep track of all this nonsense?”

  “I usually get contacted by interest groups pushing these things, but I put them off to their respective congressmen who always want to please their constituents. I even got a request this morning from some scientists who said that a group in Australia discovered the DNA of kangaroos, and they want White House backing to do a study here to see how closely they relate to human beings. Maybe they heard about our Kangaroo ticket”

  “I’m probably related. My favorite toy as a kid was a pogo stick,” Cammy said still chuckling. “Dealing with all these groups, it sounds like you’re kind of ambivalent about your job, right?”

  “Well, yes and no,” Angela said with a smile. “Oh, and I meant to tell you. Remember the guy who emails me all the time. The SAINTS guy?”

  “Sure. You said you had a dozen or so emails, right?”

  “At least. It’s just that now he’s getting a little more belligerent. Maybe I should turn him over to the Secret Service.”

  “Maybe you should. Of course, they’re pretty busy with all the nut cases out there.”

  “Guess you’re right. He hasn’t actually threatened the president. I’ll wait a while and see if he just goes away.”

  “Ladies, here’s your order,” a young waiter said as he put two plates down on their table. “Anything else you need right now?”

  “I think we’re fine, thanks,” Samantha said. “Let’s get away from shop talk for a minute. Tell me about your date last night. Didn’t you have some new guy lined up?”

  Angela dawdled with her fruit, picking up one raspberry at a time. “Well yes. He wasn’t exactly what I was hoping for though. I met him online and he sounded smart, but turns out he spends his days pouring over SEC documents, investigating derivative schemes.”

  “Sounds fascinating,” Samantha deadpanned. “But was he at least cute?”

  “Let’s just say he’s got a great face for blogging. At least he was better than the last guy. Remember the one whose hobby was carving gourds? He always smelled like hand freshener. Seems like it’s been a cavalcade of losers. But what about you? Heard from Tripp?”

  Samantha brightened at the sound of his name. “Yes, he’s been great. He promised to email me every day and he’s kept his word. They’re over in Almaty negotiating with the Kazak energy minister, and he says it’s going really well. They’ll be heading over to another city, name starts with an A. Seems all their major cities start with A. I don’t know why. Anyway, I love hearing from him. He says dad’s doing great and is excited about going out to the field to check on the new exploration area.” She took a bite of her sandwich and continued. “I really miss him, you know.” Angela nodded sympathetically. “The only trouble is that after that disastrous trip down to Venezuela when he got in trouble and we lost touch, well, now it seems that every time I get an email, it feels like a Cinderella moment.”

  “You mean you’re afraid he’ll disappear at midnight?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Hey, lighten up. He’ll be back soon and you can relax. Now, tell me what’s happening in your shop. How did that meeting go the other day with Benson. You said he called you in.”

  “Right. He and Max Federman are so focused on getting Jayson Keller elected, I’m afraid they’re ignoring a lot of important issues.”

  “Your issues.”

  “Well, sure, my issues. They’re important issues. When I was in his office, I happened to look over at his phone system and saw that my office was number seventeen on his speed dial.”

  “Well, he does have a direct line to the president, to Keller, to DOD, State, and a lot of other folks. Just be glad that you’re on his directory at all. But what issues is he avoiding?” Angela asked, finishing her fruit and reaching for the yogurt.

  “The one I’m most worked up about right now is this EMP threat. I told you about that, well not the classified parts, but the idea in general. It’s not that we have intel about a specific threat right now. It’s just that this is something that could have such devastating effects on our whole country, I think we should be doing more to protect ourselves.”

  “We don’t have the money,” Angela said.

  Samantha sighed and sat back in her chair. “I know. With the deficits we inherited, to say nothing of the entitlements that keep ratcheting up year after year I don’t know how we’re ever going to deal with half the situations that come across my desk. It’s just that I can’t get this one out of my mind.”

  “But you said yourself that no one is actually predicting this kind of attack, right?”

  “No one predicted Pearl Harbor or 9/11 either. Unfortunately, it seems that our intelligence community uses the past to predict the future. But now we’ve got to think about these Black Swan types of events and get our act together.

  “So what are you proposing?” Angela asked.

  “Well, for one thing, take our electricity grid. We should harden it. All of it. If one point fails, now we work around it. We can re-route the power even though it can take some time. Back in 2003 when power on the East Coast went down, there was a domino effect. But nothing was permanently damaged. Eventually they got it going again. With an EMP effect, all the safety devices would fail and be damaged themselves. Nothing would be re-routed. It would all be totally fried, and could take months or years to get back online.”

  “Why would it take that long? I don’t get that.”

  “The big transformers we have could take a year or two to manufacture and replace. We stopped making those things and all their parts years ago. We have to go overseas to get them from places like Japan. It could take ages. And even then, we’d have transportation problems to move them around.”

  “Geez,” Angela said, staring at Samantha. “I had no idea. We’re that vulnerable, huh?”

  “And that’s only a small part of it. There would be no communications. No 9-1-1. No GPS. No computers. No food or water cause you couldn’t get it here. Remember the old Boy Scout song?”

  “You mean, ‘Be Prepared’?”

  “And we’re not!”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  ALMATY, KAZAKHSTAN

  “My God! That baby only has one eye.” Pete exclaimed, staring at the large picture of a deformed child pasted on a placard. Thousands of demonstrators were marching quietly, almost reverently, down the large thoroughfare in the heart of the city.

  “I tell you
before,” Nurlan said as they stepped into the street and joined the crowd. “Many born wrong. Not just ones near nuclear tests in Semipalatinsk, but their children and then their children. Look over there,” he instructed, pointing to a young couple dragging a wagon carrying two little kids, one with a tiny face but a huge forehead. The other looked like a little soap bubble.”

  “What’s the matter with that one?” Pete asked, wide-eyed. “That boy. Where are his arms and legs?”

  “Some babies born with bones too soft. Call them jelly babies. And see other ones back of them?”

  Pete craned his neck to see a gaggle of youngsters, struggling to keep up with the march. “They’ve got what we call cleft palates,” Pete said.

  “See lot of that here,” Nurlan confirmed. “My sister has few problems. Not this bad. She just not so strong. She beautiful though. You will see,” he said with a grin. Then as he scanned the crowd again, he frowned. “But many people from test sites have things you not see now. They get cancer of kidney, liver, lungs.”

  “I know,” Pete said somberly. “That’s what happened to Maelynn, my grandmother. I told you about her. How she died of polio. And then my mother got cancer.” He looked down at the road, trying to hold back the memories and the tears. He was only a teenager when it happened, and he was torn apart watching her fight the effects of the drugs, endure the pain, and try to be brave. She was better than he was, and he was ashamed. He should have been more upbeat, more cheerful, a better son in her last days as her body, wracked with pain, finally gave up. He brushed his eyes with the back of his sleeve and murmured, “Do you have any idea what it’s like to watch your mother die of something that could have been prevented? I mean, prevented if the damned government hadn’t exposed the family to that radiation? Or maybe cured if she could have gotten enough money from them to get better treatment?”

  Nurlan put his hand on Pete’s shoulder and nodded. “Yes. I know. And these people know. He made a sweeping gesture toward the crowd. “They all know. There were over million people exposed to Soviet radiation back in sixties. Even famous scientist Sakharov.”