“I’ve got a signal!” she cried triumphantly.
Two rings.
Now three.
Five. She tensed up, remembering that the call would go to voicemail after the sixth ring.
There was a click, and a rustling sound before—
“Hello? Who’s this?”
Without warning Karen felt tears stream down her face. Her voice caught in her throat.
“Jack?” her voice cracked with emotion. “Jack, honey, it’s me. It’s Karen.”
΅
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
PADRON FAMILY RESERVE
STAFF SERGEANT DANVERS was almost catatonic by the time the colonel had finished with his questioning, leaning unsteadily against the Jeep, his hands trembling as he wiped tears from his cheeks. Lieutenant Bianchi fussed over him, plying him with water and trying to clean the dried blood from his face. MacAuliffe stormed off to the Humvee, swearing under his breath.
Danvers' guilt was just a misunderstanding, or at least wildly misplaced. The floodgates had burst as soon as Danvers had figured out the colonel suspected him of having something to do with the nuke. His demands for a lawyer were forgotten, and he answered MacAuliffe's questions with an eagerness that verged on mania.
The reason for the sergeant's terror, it seemed, had nothing to do with his discovery of the nuclear weapon. He and a couple of privates from Camp Roberts had stopped for a break on the way to the safe zone in the town of Lodi, California, where they’d cleaned out Stogies Cigar Lounge and ransacked a jewelers store. When they reached Truckee his unit had been assigned to construction duties on the far side of the safe zone, but Danvers had slipped away to the vehicle bay find a safe place to stash the spoils. When General Bailey found him skulking around the trucks his pockets had been weighed down by a dozen gold sovereign rings, and he was pulling three thousand dollars worth of sweat-soaked Padron Family Reserve from beneath his jacket.
Danvers had considered it a lucky escape when the general ignored the cigars. He'd been relieved when Bailey ordered him to find a specific truck and root around the back in search of a particular crate, and when Lieutenant Bianchi grabbed him from the convoy and cuffed him to the Jeep he’d assumed his crime had finally caught up with him. He'd assumed he was being taken back to Beale to be court-martialed for looting. He had no idea it was anything to do with the bomb, and no clue why the colonel was so outraged over the theft of a few boxes of cigars that he’d pulled a gun on him.
Now Danvers slumped to the ground in the shade beside the Jeep, still cuffed, but this time for a crime he’d actually committed. Meanwhile Colonel MacAuliffe stalked back and forth across the vehicle bay, watching the approaching convoy like a hawk, waiting with his weapon drawn for the general to arrive.
“You need to leave now, Jack,” MacAuliffe growled, his face beetroot red as he stopped pacing for a moment. He looked about a half mile beyond furious, and ready to beat anyone who gave him a good enough excuse. “Get your people inside. This might get ugly if he’s not working alone.”
Jack couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He couldn’t believe that the colonel seemed ready to open fire on fellow American soldiers. Even if this was all true, even if General Bailey really was involved in the attacks… Jesus, surely it wouldn’t come down to a gunfight? And surely it wouldn’t all land on the colonel, his driver and Lieutenant Bianchi.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he insisted. “I can handle a gun. Just tell me where to shoot.”
“Are you crazy?” MacAuliffe scoffed. “This is a military matter, Jack. You can’t get caught up in the middle of this.” He turned to Garside and Cathy, loitering beside the Humvee. “You and you, get inside. Jack’s going with you.”
Garside noticed Jack’s reluctance. He didn’t understand what was happening, but he’d seen the colonel threaten to kill one of his own men, and he could see that he was still agitated. “Maybe we ought to listen to the officer, Jack,” he suggested. He coughed awkwardly as Jack still hesitated. “I’m sure you don’t want Boomer in harm’s way.”
That did the trick. Jack looked down at the dog at Garside’s feet, and finally his shoulders slumped. Whatever was about to happen he couldn’t bear the thought of the dog being injured. Boomer had been by Jack’s side ever since Seattle, and right now… well, right now the excitable mutt was his closest friend.
“OK, Doug, you win,” he conceded, stepping away from MacAuliffe. “We’ll go wait over in the garage. Come on, Boomer.”
The dog perked up at the sound of her name, and she happily trailed along beside Jack as he headed for the enormous garage at the end of the vehicle bay. Garside followed behind him like a sheepdog, corralling him towards the garage as if he was worried Jack might change his mind and turn back, and Cathy strode on ahead.
“What’s going on with that guy?” she asked, nodding back towards MacAuliffe. “He looks like he’s about to have an aneurysm.”
“The colonel?” Jack shrugged evasively, wishing he could tell her what was going on. “I don’t know. Something to do with looting, I think. He has to arrest one of his men.” He felt awful for lying to her, but he’d promised the colonel.
“Looting?” Cathy shook her head with disgust. “Damn, as if we don’t have enough problems to deal with. You’d think soldiers would know better.”
You don’t know the half of it, Jack thought, looking back to the convoy of trucks that was finally beginning to crawl onto the base. He picked up his pace a little, determined to make it to the garage before General Bailey’s truck rolled into the bay. He knew a raging gunfight was unlikely, but still he felt a little too exposed out on open ground. He wanted to—
He froze. Something was vibrating in his pocket, and it wasn’t until he reached in and pulled it out that he realized it was his phone. It felt like weeks since he'd received a call.
One bar.
Unknown caller.
“Guys, hang on a second, someone’s calling me.”
Cathy stopped, pulling out her own phone. “Wow, you have a signal? Hot damn.”
Jack felt his heart skip a beat as he tapped the screen and brought the phone to his ear. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but…
“Hello? Who’s this?”
The speaker crackled in his ear. The signal was so weak it was barely there, but over a loud, constant hum he heard a sharp sob.
“Jack? Jack, honey, it’s me. It’s Karen.”
For what felt like an eternity he couldn’t speak. The words wouldn’t come. His head span, but eventually a broad smile spread across his face and he let out a joyous laugh.
“Karen! Oh my God, you’re alive!” He was almost yelling into the phone, unable to control the volume of his own voice. “Are you OK? Is Emily with you?”
“Yes, she’s with me.” Karen’s voice wobbled as she fought past tears. “We’re both OK, honey, but look, I don’t have much time, and I need you listen very closely.”
Jack’s breath caught in his throat. “I’m listening,” he croaked, overcome by a sudden sense of dread. What's wrong?
“We’re on an airplane. A…” her voice faded for a moment as she mumbled to someone in the background. “A C-130 Hercules. We’re at an airfield near Beale Air Force Base, honey. That’s west of the safe zone, on the way to Yuba City.”
“I’m at Beale right now!” Jack spun around as if he might be able to see the plane. “I can come find you!”
“No, honey, you can’t. Just listen, OK? We’re on the runway and we’re about to take off. The people flying the plane don’t know we’re here.” For a moment she fell silent. Jack wanted to speak desperately, but there was something about the tone of the silence that made him hold his tongue.
“Honey, there’s a nuclear bomb on the plane.”
Jack’s blood froze in his veins, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. “There’s a bomb on the plane?” he repeated in leaden tones.
“Jack, I need you to find someone in charge. I nee
d you to explain what’s going on. I think they’re planning to drop the bomb somewhere.” She paused for a moment, steeling herself. “And Jack. I think the people with the bomb are Americans.”
Jack was already at a dead run, the phone still pinned to his ear as he sprinted back towards Colonel MacAuliffe. “Hang on, just stay on the line,” he panted. “I’m passing you to someone.”
Jack broke his run against the hood of the Jeep, gasping for breath as MacAuliffe turned and stared at him.
“I thought I told you to get out of here, son,” the colonel complained.
“No,” Jack gasped, cursing his lack of fitness as he held up his phone. “You need to hear this. My wife’s on the line.”
“Your wife? Why the hell would I need to speak to your wife?”
“Just listen,” he impatiently ordered, turning on the speaker and setting the volume higher. “Honey, you’re on with Colonel MacAuliffe. He’s in charge here. Tell him what you just told me.”
“MacAuliffe?” This time the voice belonged to a man. “I was trying to get hold of that asshole all night!”
The colonel bristled at the insult. “I don’t know who this is, but you should know you’re on speaker. This is MacAuliffe.”
“And I’m sure I’ll be mortified when this is all over, colonel, but we’ll have to save the apology for later. This is Ted Krasinski. I’m DoD, based out of Travis.”
“What’s this about, Krasinski?” MacAuliffe demanded. “We’re a little busy here.”
“Colonel, right now you have a C-130 preparing for takeoff on the old airfield in the south east quadrant of Beale. In the cargo bay is a truck that broke away from a convoy headed back from Truckee, and in the back of that truck is a nuclear warhead.”
MacAuliffe’s expression didn’t flicker as he heard the news. “Understood. Is General Bailey on board?”
“Bailey? Are you talking about Harlan Bailey?”
“Yes, son. Is he on the plane?”
“I… I don’t know, sir, but I heard one guy refer to someone as a general. Deep voice? Kind of a southern drawl?”
“That sounds like Bailey,” MacAuliffe nodded. “Son, I need you to get off that plane right now, y’hear?”
“I don’t think that’s possible, sir. We’re stuck in the cargo bay. The bay door won’t open while the plane is rolling, but if you have any suggestions I’m all ears.”
The colonel scratched his stubble, swearing under his breath. “Is there any way you’d be able to disrupt the takeoff? Could you take the plane?”
“I don’t know how I could possibly do that, sir.”
“You’re DoD? Don’t you have any combat training?”
“Ummm, no sir. I’m an accountant.” In the background the engines built to a roar. “I think we’re picking up speed now, sir. Do you know how I could kill this thing from the cargo bay?”
MacAuliffe scratched his stubble, deep in thought. “Have you tried the emergency doors? That should set off a cockpit alarm. They’ll have to abort the takeoff.”
“Emergency doors? Where can I find them?”
“You’ll see them port and starboard, just in front of the cargo ramp. Pull down on the release handle and the door should open outwards.”
“OK, I’m checking it now.” A muffled rustle came from the speaker as Krasinski climbed down from the truck.
“Son, you need to be ready to run as soon as those doors open, OK? These guys will come out all guns blazing when they realize you’re on their plane.”
“Understood, sir,” Krasinski replied. “We’re ready. Hang on.” More rustling, and after a few moments Jack heard him swear under his breath. “Sir, it looks like these doors have been sealed shut. I can see weld marks all around the frame.”
“Damn it,” MacAuliffe cursed. “He’s using a boneyard plane.” He noticed Jack’s questioning look. “Decommissioned. They weld the doors to prevent theft.” He turned back to the phone. “OK son, do you see anything around you that you could use to prevent takeoff? Anything at all. Even if it’s just a bunch of exposed wires you could tug out of the wall?”
There was a moment’s pause before Krasinski’s voice returned. “No sir, I don’t see anything. It’s pretty bare in here. The only thing I can see is a parachute hanging on the wall.”
MacAuliffe’s eyes flickered to Jack for a moment, and then down to the ground. He seemed to have something to say, but he was reluctant to say it.
“Son,” he finally muttered. “If you can’t keep that plane on the ground you understand what needs to happen?”
There was a long silence before Krasinski answered. “Yes, sir,” he replied, his voice almost a whisper. “I know what you have to do.”
Jack felt his stomach turn over. “What? What do you have to do?”
“Godspeed, Krasinski,” MacAuliffe said. “We’re gonna stay on the line until we lose you, OK?”
“Colonel, what do you have to do?” He felt sick. “Karen, what’s happening?”
“I… we’re taking off,” Karen replied. “Ted, what’s going on?”
For a moment nobody spoke. The only sound was the rising whine of the engines as the Hercules powered along the runway, and a crackle in the line as it moved to the limits of the local cell tower. Finally MacAuliffe sighed.
“We have to shoot it down, Jack.”
Jack felt his fists clench and his jaw set. “My wife and daughter are on that plane!”
“Daddy!” Emily’s voice rang out across the vehicle bay. Jack grabbed the phone from the hood of the Jeep and held it close.
“Pumpkin!” he cried, trying to keep the fear and anger from his voice. “I’m so happy to hear you. I love you so, so much.”
“I love you, daddy,” she cried over the roar of the engines. “When are you coming to get us?”
Jack looked up to see MacAuliffe walking away toward the arriving convoy. “I’m coming soon, pumpkin. We’ll all be together soon, OK?” He wiped a tear from his cheek. “Karen, are you there?”
“I’m here.” Karen couldn’t keep the tears from her voice. It trembled as she spoke. “I love you, Jack.”
“I’m not going to let this happen, Karen. I’m going to stop it, OK?”
Karen’s voice was almost gone now, crackling as it faded. “Honey, listen. We left Doc Ramos and his friend behind on the road to the airfield. They could be injured. You have to promise me you’ll find them, OK?”
“I promise, Karen. They’ll be here when you get back, I promise.”
“Jack, I wish we could—”
With a final crackle the call dropped, and Jack held the phone to his chest as if he were holding Karen and Emily themselves.
“Colonel!” he yelled. “You can’t do this!” He slipped the phone back into his pocket and followed MacAuliffe toward the convoy. “Colonel!”
“I’m sorry, Jack.” MacAuliffe broke off from giving orders to a handful of men climbing down from the back of a truck. “I really am sorry, but I can’t let Bailey get away with that bomb. I can’t sacrifice thousands of people just for the sake of your wife and dau—”
He didn’t see the punch coming. It was a wild, clumsy left hook, but it caught MacAuliffe on the jaw and sent him staggering back against the truck. Jack hadn’t thrown a real punch since high school. There wasn’t enough force behind it to deal any serious damage, but as MacAuliffe recovered he wiped blood from a split lower lip.
“Under the circumstances I’m gonna let that slide, Jack,” he muttered, spitting a gob of blood to the ground. “But I’m warning you, if you ever—”
He saw the second swing from a mile away. Jack telegraphed it like an amateur after a dozen beers, dipping his shoulder as he drew back his fist, and MacAuliffe deftly sidestepped. Jack’s fist sailed through thin air, and before he knew what was happening he met an upper cut coming the other way. His head rocked back, and before he had the time to recover – before he even had time to feel any pain – a neat, efficient jab flattened his nose agains
t his face. He stumbled back two steps before tripping over his heels, landing in the dirt with a thud.
“You only get one free shot, Jack.” MacAuliffe growled. “Bianchi, cuff him.”
Lieutenant Bianchi took a hesitant step forward. “Sir? Ummm, I’m sorry sir, but I only have the one set of cuffs, and… well, Sergeant Danvers is already in them.”
MacAuliffe sighed. “Then… Oh, I don’t know. Just get him the hell away from me.”
Jack lay dazed on the ground, his ears ringing, and he didn’t fight back as Bianchi took his arms and dragged him away from the colonel. Bianchi hauled him back to the Jeep, bundled him against the door beside Danvers and gave him a stern warning to stay put. In the background he could hear MacAuliffe continue to yell orders, his voice growing angrier by the second.
“OK, I want two Eagles deployed ASAP, and I want my radar up and running five minutes ago.”
Jack heard mumbling, though he couldn’t make out the words.
“What do you mean, they’re not fueled?”
More mumbling.
“Well, where the hell are my ground crew? We need those planes in the air! No, seventy five minutes is not acceptable, captain!”
Jack’s mind was full of cotton wool, still recovering from the blows. He could feel his nose throbbing, and his upper lip was wet with blood. He was certain the nose was broken, and when he saw the colonel storm around the side of the Jeep he shrank back, expecting another punch. Instead MacAuliffe dropped to his haunches and plunged his hand into Jack’s pocket, pulling out his phone.
“You’re one lucky sonofabitch, Jack,” he growled, tapping the screen as he spoke. “Looks like you got your wish.” He stared at the screen, whispering to himself. “Come on, come on, send, damn it.”
After a few moments MacAuliffe tossed the phone into Jack’s lap, turned back towards the truck and called out. “I want a Chinook ready to go right this Goddamn second, understand? Get to it!”
Jack blinked away tears and reached down for the phone. The screen was cracked and half obscured by dust, but he could see the notification still hanging on the screen.
Jack Archer (Book 3): Year Zero Page 14
