Castle Bravo

by Karna Small Bodman

  Pete reached down to pick up his chair. As he sat down again, he paused for a long moment and took a deep breath. “Wait a minute. I’ve got an idea.”

  “What idea?” Zhanar asked. “What are we going to do about this? What could we possibly do?”

  Pete drank some more water, and stopped to collect his thoughts. “Okay, Nurlan, you know how we’ve been talking for months now about how the S.A.I.N.T.S. have been trying to get reparations? And how we’ve been trying to figure out ways we can threaten Washington and get them to pay up?”

  “Yes,” Nurlan said cautiously. “What you mean?”

  “Wait!” Zhanar said. “Wait both of you. I don’t want to hear any more talk about threatening the Americans. I know how you feel about that money you say is owed to your people. I know all about that. But you can’t go around making threats that you can’t carry out. And as for this new bomb,” she turned to her brother, “you said you would be there. You sabotaged the first test. Sort of. Can’t you do something to keep this one from going off? Can’t you stop it?”

  Nurlan shook his head. “I not know how stop it. I think about that. For days now I think it. But whole crew be there. They watch me. I changed computer before but only send higher. I can’t stop it going off.” Then he added with a forlorn expression, “I not know what I do.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  ASTANA, KAZAKHSTAN

  “You’ve got to stop this madness,” the number two man beseeched his president.

  Viktor Surleimenov waved dismissively and relaxed in his high backed velvet chair. “Why are you so concerned about my little prank on the Americans and on Sergei Baltiev? Surely you’ve seen the latest ads that he’s been running against me. He lies. He cozies up to the Russians by appealing to the ethnics. He promises better relations with Moscow as if that would improve the lives of our Kazak people. He is a fool, and we must defeat him in the election. You know that, so why are you so upset?”

  “Do you have any idea what will happen to people in San Francisco if you let that boat go there with a weapon? You saw the trouble in Atyrau. Our soldiers can barely keep order. We have to send more planes, more supplies, more technicians. In fact, I think that at this point, we should be asking other countries for help to rebuild that infrastructure. It could take months to replace all the computers and cell towers and cars and everything. How can you be so callous at a time like this?”

  “It’s not a question of being callous. It’s a question of survival of my administration and of our independence.”

  “But you said yourself that if we explode a weapon over northern California, it won’t have a return address. They won’t know that we were the ones who did it. So how does that ensure our independence from Russian expansionism?”

  “You’re not thinking clearly. Moscow saw our little test. Moscow now knows that we have a nuclear capability and that they’d better not mess with us like they’ve been messing with Georgia and the Ukraine. And as for the boat to California, that is aimed not at Russia but at the Americans for their sanctions and freezes as well as at Baltiev’s finances that he has stashed there.”

  The vice president walked over and stood by the window overlooking the gardens. He was silent for a while, trying to conjure up arguments he might use to change the president’s mind. He had to do something, had to think of some way to talk sense into the man. His president was about to embark on a fool’s errand. No, not just an errand, but a journey to hell. There was no telling what the Americans would do if attacked with this new kind of weapon. Surely they would find the boat, capture the people and trace the whole scheme back to the palace. This palace. He had to stop it somehow. He turned and faced Surleimenov once more.

  “Let’s take a moment and think this through. First of all, the sanctions. Yes, the Americans are freezing some of our assets, but that’s only because we have not allowed inspections of our nuclear facilities. We could change course on that. We could get our plants in order, sequester our remaining weapons where no one would find them, even though I never did agree with this weapons program of yours. But if we had to, we could transfer some of the scientists who had been working on them and then we could invite in the inspectors. That would take the wind out of the sails of the Americans. They would have to back off. Besides, the UN is meeting on this next week. We could say that we are considering inspections and announce it before the UN meeting and you know that the bureaucrats would then have an excuse to do nothing, which is their usual modus operandi.

  “And as for Baltiev, you can make the case to our people that he’s way too close to the Russians. Keep hammering away on that point, and there’s no way he can win that election.”

  Surleimenov pounded his desk and replied angrily, “No. You don’t understand. I don’t trust the Americans to back off. They fight every country that wants to develop nuclear weapons for their own protection. And as for Baltiev, I don’t trust him either. I just got a report from our security chief that he believes Baltiev has paid agents who have somehow infiltrated the staff here at the palace. He hasn’t found them yet. It’s only rumor. But if it’s true, it means Baltiev is more ruthless than we thought. I have to stop him.”

  The president glanced at his watch and got up from his desk. “Now, it is time for us to go to the banquet. We have our Chinese guests who should be arriving soon and since they have been very cooperative with my little scheme, I wouldn’t want to keep them waiting.”

  The door flew open and the security chief barged inside. “Mr. President. Mr. President. The banquet. The food.”

  “What is it? What’s the problem?”

  “Remember I told you about agents? Spies in our midst?”

  “Yes,” the president said. He motioned to his vice president. “You see? We must stop Baltiev. If there are spies, he’s the one who put them here.” Then to his security man he barked, “Well, have you caught them?”

  “No. But your food taster is dead.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  ATYRAU, KAZAKHSTAN

  “Now that Nurlan is gone, I’m so scared,” Zhanar said.

  Pete held her, cradled her head and stroked her hair. “I know. I’m very worried about him. But I’m also worried about my family, what’s left of it in Hawaii, that is.”

  “Why? Why now? Nurlan is the one in danger.”

  “I know. I just mean that all of this has made me think more about our campaign to get the White House to help us. But now if there is some sort of attack, all they will think about is saving the city of San Francisco. They’ll have to help those people. They’ll have to get them food and supplies just like your government had to help Atyrau and everyone around here. The people in Washington will be so stunned that their country was attacked that every department, the State Department, the Pentagon, everyone will be working to find out who did it and retaliate or something. I know how our government works. That’s all they will do. That’s what the press and the people will scream about. And I can understand that. And it will go on for a long, long time. Nobody will think about anything else, let alone our problems. No one will ever consider our pleas for money, for medical help, for anything. All of our efforts, all the things the S.A.I.N.T.S. have been doing, all we stand for will be for nothing. Nothing at all.”

  The daylight was dwindling now. There were no lights in the apartment. Zhanar pulled away from Pete, lit the one candle they had left and motioned for him to sit down at the table, their usual conversation spot. “I’ve been thinking.”

  Pete pulled out a chair and sat across from her. He took her hands in his and began to stroke her fingers. “I know everything is a mess. I know you’re worried about your brother. I’m worried too, but I just don’t know what to do next.”

  “As I said, I’ve been thinking,” she replied. “What if … what if …” her voice trailed off.

  “What if what?”

  “I once said that people like us, we have no power.”

  “I remember you said tha
t.”

  “But now, now I have an idea. It means we would have to get away from here, a long way away. And if we can escape this place, we just might have some power after all.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  THE WHITE HOUSE

  “My God! Look at this!” Angela cried out, careening into Samantha’s office. “You’ve got to see this.” She thrust a piece of paper into Samantha’s hands and exclaimed, “Could this be for real?”

  Samantha quickly read the printed email. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes were wide. “This is the guy you were talking about some time ago? The kook you said was demanding money or something for tests we did ages ago?”

  “The same one. Remember, I said he had sent me a bunch of crazy emails demanding reparations or whatever? I get nutty stuff all the time. But this … this … this looks real. We’ve got to get it to Ken.”

  “Absolutely. Right now!” She called to Joan. “Please call Cosgrove’s office. Tell him we’re on our way down. It’s an emergency.”

  Samantha held onto the email, and the two women sprinted out of the office, down the short corridor and hit the stairs, almost slamming into another staffer on his way up. “Oh, sorry,” Samantha said as they both hurried by. They stopped in front of the secretary’s desk in the corner office where Samantha said, “We’ve got to see Ken. Is he available?”

  “He’s in with the president, Miss Reid. The daily brief, you know.”

  Samantha looked down at her watch. “Oh, sure. Of course he’s in the Oval. I forgot about the time. But we’ve got to see him.”

  “You’re welcome to wait.”

  Samantha exchanged a glance with Angela and shook her head. “No thanks.” They headed out and hurried down the hall, through the reception area, past the Roosevelt Room and around the corner. They practically ran past the door to the Cabinet Room and turned left into the office of the president’s secretary.

  “I have an emergency,” Samantha announced. “I know Ken will want to see this and bring it to the attention of the president.”

  “You can’t go barging in there, Miss Reid. Even if it is an emergency. I’m sure it can wait a few minutes.”

  “Please,” Samantha begged. “It’s a matter of national security. And I assume the DNI is in there as well, right?”

  “Yes, of course he’s in there,” she said politely.

  “I know they’re all going to want to hear this,” Samantha continued. “Can’t you at least get a message in to them that I’m here? Please?”

  The secretary stared at Samantha, hesitated and then buzzed the military aide sitting in a small area near the door to the Oval Office. He came out and said, “Something I can do for you?”

  “Yes,” the secretary replied. “Go in and tell Mr. Cosgrove that Miss Reid has an issue of national security and asks to be admitted.”

  “Thank you. Thank you,” Samantha said to her. “I truly appreciate this. Really!”

  A few moments later, the military aide came out and motioned for Samantha and Angela to come inside.

  “What’s this?” Ken asked cautiously as the two women stepped onto the gold oval carpet. Sunshine poured through the trio of windows behind the president’s desk, shining down on the collection of family photos on the credenza. The president sat at the desk while the director of National Intelligence and the National Security advisor stood in front holding briefing books and what appeared to be a collection of satellite photos.

  “I apologize for the intrusion, Mr. President, but we have just received an email from a young man who appears to have information about a possible attack on our country.”

  “Attack?” the president asked, standing up and coming around the desk. “What kind of attack?”

  “You see, we’ve been getting, well, Angela has been getting, emails from a guy for quite some time. At first we thought he was just one of the crazy types asking for money. Things like that.”

  “What is he asking for?” Ken asked.

  “It’s rather complicated,” Samantha said. “But it looks like his family …”

  “And a lot of his people, his grandparents, lots of people …” Angela added.

  “Yes, lots of people were affected by nuclear tests that our government conducted back in the 50s and 60s.”

  “Yes. We did some testing. But what could that possibly have to do with an attack now? You mean these people, whoever they are, are going to stage some sort of attack in retribution?” the president asked. “That sounds rather specious to me.”

  “No, it’s not them,” Samantha said. “He sent this email that says he knows about an attack that is planned by another country, and he will tell us all about it if we will agree to reparations for his people, money, and medicine that he says was promised years ago.” She handed the email to the president.

  He read through it and gave it to Ken. “What do you think? Could this be legitimate?”

  Ken quickly read the message and gave it to the DNI. “Can we trace this?”

  “Sure,” the Intelligence chief said. “Says here that he had to travel a long distance to where he could communicate. Not sure what that means, but we’ll get NSA right on it. If he stays put, we’ll find him.”

  “But are we going to respond?” Samantha asked? “I mean we have to respond to the email. It doesn’t give a time frame. I mean, we don’t know how soon this could happen. If it is going to happen. We have to take it seriously, right?” she asked in a pleading tone.

  “Sounds rather strange to me,” the president said. “We get all kinds of messages about threats, terrorists, tips. Well, you know that as well as anybody. Is this something real? Hard to say at this point. As you said, it might just be some crazy guy looking for money. Almost sounds like a blackmail scheme or something. But I’ll let Ken work on the details.” He turned and sat down once again, which seemed like a signal for Samantha to make her retreat.

  “Yes, Mr. President. I’ll work with Ken on this, sir, and I thank you for your time.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  EAST OF ATYRAU, KAZAKHSTAN

  “What do we do now? We’re almost out of money,” Zhanar whispered. She sipped the green tea she had bought in the small café hundreds of miles east of her home. A few other people were seated at small metal tables by the window and a couple of men in filthy work shirts sat at a long counter. She and Pete had driven for two days, finished most of the water they had taken along from the apartment, along with some rice and beans that Nurlan had brought from the plant. But Nurlan was gone. Gone away with the other workers. Gone on a big transport plane with a dangerous cargo. Zhanar had lain awake after he left, visualizing all the things that could go wrong. They could find out that Nurlan had sabotaged the first test. The boat could hit storm waters. The bomb could go off prematurely, although she had no idea how that could happen. She still worried.

  Then Pete took over. He jumped at her idea about contacting the White House again then he had figured out a way to get them both out of town. They had packed a few clothes, the water, what little food they had left along with what meager savings she had in the apartment. Neither one of them knew how far they would have to drive. She was scared of running out of gas out on the steppe somewhere. Some place where nobody would find them. At least Pete had figured out a way to siphon some gas from a number of cars stalled around town, and they had those containers with them. They had kept driving and finally came to this town. A town where she saw lights in the windows, and that’s when she almost shouted with joy. It meant that things were working here. They had electricity. It meant that there might be a place where Pete could send an email. When they had driven down the dusty street, they had found this little café. It was where they had made a deal with the owner.

  Pete studied the old computer he had borrowed from the guy running the place. He had sent his email a while ago. He thought about the time difference. It was evening here. So it would be morning in Washington. Would they answer? They had to answer. His mes
sage had been pretty clear. Deal with me, and I’ll help you. Don’t deal with me, and you will be facing a certain attack. But would they believe him? He figured they got lots of emails. Lots of letters. Lots of phone calls. They had never answered him before now. At least this Angela person, whose name he had found online, had never answered. Maybe he should have sent it to somebody higher up. But he didn’t have an email address for anybody higher up. The only reason he found hers was probably because it looked like her job was dealing with some sort of outside groups, and his S.A.I.N.T.S. certainly fell into that category.

  He looked up and saw that Zhanar was waiting for an answer. “We have to wait. We have to see if they send a reply to this.”

  “We can’t wait here too long. That guy who runs this place keeps giving us weird looks. He probably hopes we’ll give up this table so that better paying customers can take the space.”

  “That’s the least of our worries. I tipped him to use this computer. I told him it was important, and I was going to have to use it for a while.”

  “What about the jeep? What if somebody official sees it and wonders why it’s here? Maybe they’ll figure out that we’re not military and that we shouldn’t have it.”

  “Relax. You’re getting yourself all worked up. Okay, so we managed to steal the jeep. It was the only way out of the city. You know that. We were just incredibly lucky to find it down by the waterfront. The soldiers were so busy dealing with that crowd, they never saw us. At least I don’t think they did.”

  “Actually, I was amazed that you could figure out how to start it. And then when we had to get out of town, I was really scared that they’d come after us.”

  “They were too tied up trying to keep order. They probably didn’t miss it for hours. Anyway, we made it out. We got here”