The Omega Covenant

by Richard Holcroft

  The visit to the naval base was planned as a boost to the president’s sinking ratings with conservative voters, as well as a warning to Russian Premier Sokolov to cease his saber rattling. For Kauai residents, it was with a great sense of pride that they welcomed the first-term president to their beautiful island, and most hoped all would go well.

  The launch site itself, where the gleaming white missile sat pointed west, was a spit of land jutting out into the Pacific several hundred yards northwest of the control center. Cameras would pick up the blastoff, from pre-flight preparations to first stage of its trajectory, and televise it live to the president’s party viewing it on large monitors in the control room. The target cruise missile would be fired from a Japanese Kongo class destroyer stationed several hundred miles northwest of the Kauai facility, with a successful intercept taking place outside the earth’s atmosphere at more than a hundred miles altitude.

  The president had mixed feelings about the Aegis program during his first three years in office. The project was designed to intercept and destroy short- to medium-range ballistic missiles fired from enemy submarines toward US strategic ground sites.

  And while earlier versions proved generally successful, evolving threats by North Korean and Russian nuclear submarine fleets made constant system upgrades necessary. If today’s launch proved successful, it would be the final test of the newest version before being formally certified and deployed on US warships and land-based facilities. The Barking Sands group and Department of Defense must be confident of a successful operation, one Senate committee chairman thought, or they wouldn’t have publicized the launch as much as they had, or suggested the president look on.

  Captain Walsh and base executive officer Commander David Kendall would usher the president and his party to seats in the control room five minutes before scheduled launch. Walsh assured the VIPs the countdown was going smoothly. A silver-haired lieutenant commander in charge of missile range operations, assisted by a young public affairs officer, began explaining what they’d see on the big screen in front of them in less than fifteen minutes.

  “As you know,” Captain Walsh began, “the ground-based version of the Aegis Ballistic Missile Defense system–the one we’re testing today–is planned to counter the threat from long-range ballistic missiles.” He flicked on an adjacent screen to a slide illustrating placement of the long-range missiles at Vandenberg Air Force Base, California. “It consists of a powerful, multi-stage booster and kill vehicle. The kill vehicle separates from the booster once it’s in space and seeks out its target using both land and sea-based radar updates and its own onboard visual and infrared sensors. It destroys its target by colliding with it–an action known as ‘kinetic kill.’”

  The commanding officer nodded toward the range operations officer. “Early tests proved successful,” the lieutenant began, “but they also involved scripted scenarios with targets traveling at slower speeds and lower trajectories than we’d expect in an actual attack. Fortunately, recent tests have been equally encouraging. In those we’ve used targets moving at faster speeds and employing decoys our adversaries might try to use to trick the system into hitting the wrong target.”

  “‘Encouraging’ meaning what?” the president asked. “If we’re going to station these things in Alaska and Europe, they damn well better be reliable.”

  The operations officer nodded. “Two years ago, on average, three out of four tests failed. The past six months, however, twelve out of fourteen were hits. We’re optimistic today’s launch will be just as successful, and we’ll be ready to put it into service within the next six months.”

  Several congressmen smiled at the optimistic opinion, although the president remained dour and skeptical.

  “If we launch one of these from California, say, how far away will it intercept a ballistic missile target?” he asked.

  “Ballistic missiles have three stages of flight,” the lieutenant continued. “The boost phase, which begins at launch and lasts until the rocket engines stop firing, about three to five minutes; the midcourse phase, which begins when the engines stop firing and the missile continues on its ballistic course toward the target, until it starts to descend to earth–up to twenty minutes; and finally the terminal phase, during which the missile’s warhead reenters the earth’s atmosphere. The Aegis is designed to intercept the target warhead in the midcourse phase.”

  “Which lasts from several minutes up to twenty minutes,” Captain Walsh added. “That would make intercept anywhere from 200 to 350 miles away from the launch site.”

  “As we’ve recently learned, however, the Russians are claiming their new Bulava missile, with its five-thousand mile range and ten nuclear warheads, is capable of penetrating any of our missile defenses. So we’re hoping this test today goes a long way toward proving them wrong.”

  The president nodded when his deputy chief of staff whispered something in his ear related to the last intelligence briefing they’d received back in Washington. The operations officer continued talking about launch procedures as the countdown neared the five-minute mark.

  Everyone in the briefing room listened attentively, except for the officer standing at the back of the room who fingered the aluminum object in his side pocket.

  The senior Secret Service agent in the president’s detail suddenly went into high alert mode. An urgent command had come through his headset. He acknowledged the order and barked commands to the other agents to get “Double Play” and everyone else out of the room immediately. The agent nearest the president stepped to his side and pulled him out of his seat. “Mr. President, we need to leave.”

  The president looked startled but didn’t argue. He followed the agent to the exit, as did the rest of the party.

  The officer at the back of the room looked puzzled as he watched the president hurriedly leave the building. He paused for a few moments, then reluctantly closed the plastic guard on the remote triggering device and followed the president’s party out the door.

  39

  Marchetti dialed the FBI field office in Dallas. When the operator answered, Marchetti said, “Special Agent Beth Henley in counterterrorism, please.”

  “Whom shall I say is calling?” she asked.

  “It’s Mike Marchetti, and it’s urgent.”

  “Hold on, please.”

  There was a long pause before a woman’s voice came on the line. “Henley here.”

  “Agent Henley, this is Mike Marchetti.”

  She coughed and said, “Why am I so lucky?”

  “Just your day, I suppose. We’ve got a problem here on Kauai.”

  “Yeah, I heard. Sergeant Kalani talked to me a few days ago and told me you were there–wanted to know if you were reputable.”

  “Look, this is urgent, and I didn’t know who else to call. I’m hoping you can contact the necessary people.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “My partner, Tom Shannon, and I are headed for the Barking Sands naval installation. The president is there for a launch, and we have reason to believe his life may be in danger. Someone plans to expose him to a weaponized pathogen, reengineered to deter immunization.”

  “Based on what information?”

  “We’d been investigating the death of a journalist named Bradley Vaughn. That led us to an individual named Kent Hollingsworth. Hollingsworth took Tom Shannon captive, which is where Tom heard about the plot to expose the president to a deadly virus.”

  “What’s the connection with Vaughn?”

  “Tom wanted to talk to Hollingsworth about the Vaughn case, since we had reason to believe Vaughn had spoken to him shortly before he died. Something about a false flag operation set to take place in the Middle East. Tom started poking around Hollingsworth’s property, and two of his goons took him inside at gunpoint.”

  “You’re suggesting Hollingsworth had information about this false flag idea?”

  “Right. In fact, he admitted it to Tom–made comments about the current admini
stration selling the country down the river and emasculating the military. He also told Tom about a plan he and others had to expose the president to some sort of pathogen... the end result being to kill him.”

  “Good God,” she said. He pictured her shaking her head and scribbling notes. After another pause, she continued, “Ordinarily, I’d treat this as some conspiracy bullshit, but based on our past experience with you, I’ll go out on a limb and assume you two aren’t being crackpots.”

  “Thanks a lot,” Marchetti said.

  “The timing fits, too. As of two hours ago, I have reason to believe your information may be accurate.”

  “How’s that?”

  “NSA intercepted a coded message from someone on Kauai to a person we’ve been monitoring here in the DC area. We’re familiar with Bradley Vaughn’s articles and felt he put his life in danger when he pissed off the wrong people and caused the administration major problems.”

  “Which makes sense. According to Tom, Hollingsworth’s comments didn’t sound like the rantings of a lunatic making idle threats. These people are serious and apparently have enough money and power to pull it off.”

  “But why would he give details to Tom if they were so serious about it?”

  “He believes it was because they planned to murder him anyway and had no reason not to. He wouldn’t be telling anyone.”

  “What time was the launch scheduled?”

  “A few minutes ago, half past one local time.”

  “Both CDC in Atlanta and NSA are convinced someone on the island is connected to the smallpox outbreak on the East Coast. Plus, CDC and our office in Honolulu have determined initial exposure to the pathogen occurred on a cruise ship island-hopping in Hawaii.”

  “A cruise ship?”

  “Right. The most likely person of interest being one of the passengers aboard the liner Fair Winds traveling under a phony passport. He communicated with his contact in Georgetown using a disposable cell phone routed through an encrypted server.”

  “So why not bring in the contact?”

  “We plan to. Haven’t done it before now because we hadn’t confirmed the connection. We’re sure enough about it now to start bringing people in for questioning.”

  “Who’s the person of interest?”

  After another pause, she said, “Look, Marchetti, if my supervisor finds out I’m sharing sensitive information with a civilian–a lawyer at that!–I’ll find myself tracing license plate numbers in our El Paso office the next two years.”

  “That’s not so bad. El Paso’s a nice place a couple of weeks a year.”

  “Not funny,” she said. “The name he used on the cruise reservation was Walker, Charles Walker. We checked the Lihue address he gave, and–no surprise–it doesn’t exist.”

  “But you believe he lives on Kauai?”

  “Right–a good chance of it anyway. He boarded the ship in Honolulu, disembarked in Kauai supposedly for a day tour, and never got back on board.”

  Marchetti thought about it for a moment. “Couldn’t he simply have flown back to Honolulu from Kauai? Or got sick and checked into an island hospital?”

  “Perhaps, but cryptic messages he sent to this associate in Georgetown lead us to believe he’s the guy we’re looking for.” He heard her ask another agent to bring a supervisor to her office, then continued. “Do you have the president’s itinerary for the rest of the time he’s there?”

  “Not exactly. All I know is what I saw in the local paper two days ago: his visit to the naval base, a fundraiser at the Marriott, then a speech tonight at the Harborview Resort near Lihue.”

  Marchetti looked at his watch and guessed President McHugh might even be in Lihue by now.

  “I’ll call you back after I’ve notified the Secret Service and Senior Special Agent in our Honolulu office about what we’ve got. Give me fifteen minutes.” She paused again for a few moments and then said, “We’ve also got another problem at this end.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s still early in the immunization process, but CDC and Homeland Security are getting concerned. For some reason, infected patients being given the anti-viral doses are not improving the way they should.”

  “Hollingsworth told Tom they’d reengineered the virus for just that purpose.”

  “That explains it then. Five more patients have died.”

  40

  Marchetti tried to get the island operator to connect him with security at the Barking Sands naval base. But he was never able to get past the base operator to speak directly to guards at the main gate. He wasn’t sure whether she totally grasped the severity of the threat and how desperately he needed to meet with base personnel about the planned attack on the president.

  Twenty harrowing minutes later, however, when they pulled up to the main entrance, it was obvious base security personnel were expecting them. Three Jeeps and a radio van sat parked just inside the gate entrance, and a white pickup truck with red and white light bar on the top had just pulled up.

  One guard with a pistol and holster on his hip stepped from one of the Jeeps to intercept Marchetti and Tom in their vehicles before they reached the guardshack. Two others in white helmets holding carbines at the ready stood beside the Jeeps in defensive posture.

  Two uniformed personnel stepped out of the white pickup–a chief petty officer driver and full commander riding on the passenger side.

  Even in uniform, Marchetti immediately recognized the commander as the man they’d spoken to a few days earlier: base executive officer Commander David Kendall.

  Kendall approached Marchetti and Shannon and appeared to sneer at the two civilians. “What’s going on here, Marchetti?”

  “I was hoping you could tell us, and that you’d heard from the FBI and Kauai Police by now. We have reason to believe the president’s life was in danger while he was here at the base.”

  “What kind of danger–from whom?”

  Tom explained, “Guys holding me captive discussed using a weaponized pathogen against the president, probably activated by remote control.”

  Shannon continued telling his story as two Marine helicopters painted in identical Marine One livery boosted their turbo engines and lifted off the ramp a hundred yards in front of them.

  “The base has been closed tighter than a drum the past twelve hours,” Kendall said. “Even if the story you allegedly heard was true, it’s obvious they weren’t successful.” He pointed to the choppers overhead. “The president’s fine and on his way to Lihue.”

  A black Ford Explorer sped toward the gate and braked to a hard stop a few feet away from the pickup. Marchetti assumed the vehicle contained Secret Service agents since it wasn’t a standard military vehicle.

  Two agents exited the SUV and quickly flashed their badges.

  The older, presumably senior, one introduced himself as Agent Howard Somers, the other as Agent Pete Henderson.

  Kendall nodded to Tom and Marchetti. “I’ve met these gents before, a few days ago. Marchetti’s an attorney; Shannon a private investigator. Both are from Texas. Seems they believe someone planned to carry out some kind of attack against the president today.”

  The agents looked at Tom and Marchetti, as if seeking confirmation from them.

  Marchetti nodded. “I spent twelve years with the Dallas County DA’s office, part of that time as chief felony prosecutor; Tom is a retired homicide detective, formerly with Dallas PD. I just got off the phone with Special Agent Beth Henley at the Dallas FBI office. If you want verification of who we are, check with her.” Henderson flipped open his notebook and wrote down the name. Marchetti then turned back to Kendall. “How can you be sure the attack on the president wasn’t successful? If it was a bio-attack–which is what Hollingsworth claimed it would be–it wouldn’t make a big flash or bang when it happened, would it?” Kendall didn’t respond. “Where did the president go while he was here?”

  Kendall looked at the two Secret Service agents as if asking whether he
had to answer Marchetti’s questions. Agent Somers nodded.

  “He spent roughly a half hour at the operations center for the launch,” Kendall said, “all in the briefing room, until word came through about a supposed threat, then they left. You may have screwed up a major operation of ours for no reason, Marchetti.”

  Tom then described his encounter with Hollingsworth in detail and related what the man told of their plans.

  To Marchetti’s relief, the agents treated the story as if credible. Marchetti heard Agent Somers tell the other agent, “Let’s check it out.” They both nodded and Somers said, “Leave your weapons at the gate and get in our vehicle. We’ll talk on our way to the ops building.” He then turned to Commander Kendall. “We’ll follow you there.”

  Kendall nodded. “Of course.”

  The agents opened the back doors for Marchetti and Tom to get in, while Somers took the jump seat. Henderson drove and followed Kendall the few hundred yards to the operations control center. Along the way, Tom’s continued recanting his meeting with Hollingsworth and being shackled by his guards.

  “Hollingsworth planned to have me killed,” Tom said. “Which is why he felt he could vent openly about the president and why he had to be eliminated.”

  Henderson and Somers looked at each other as if they were still skeptical.

  When they pulled up to the operations building, Henderson asked, “Why were they doing this?”

  “The president’s weakness on foreign policy for one; his serious dismantling of the military and trampling of the constitution; some other stuff. He told me how they figured security would be light, since they were on a military base, and how they planned to take me for a one-way boat ride afterward.” He shook his head. “I assumed I wasn’t coming back alive.”

  “And what was this virus supposed to be?” Henderson asked.

  “Smallpox, he said. It would arouse less suspicion than other bioweapons, since we already had an outbreak on the mainland, which CDC says started on Kauai. In fact, a particular strain of smallpox–one replicated by his personal microbiologist using a process called synthetic biology.” Somers again looked at him and jotted down a few more notes. “One that would make it invulnerable to existing vaccines.”